CHAPTER 8
A/N: A last minute edit. Sorry about that.
Let me know if you think this is too intimate to be platonic. I'll set Snape on you. Or possibly Voldemort. ;)
"Crucio!"
The man resisted, but was soon on the ground.
"Find out where the boy is, Severus," Harry said, thoroughly enjoying the sight of the screaming, writhing Potions Master, "and you may be spared your pain." He watched in amusement as the man hauled himself to his knees and bowed, his hands trembling on his hips.
"As my Lord wishes."
At a nod from Harry, the man stood. He had contained his tremors admirably well, Harry thought.
The dark haired man's face morphed.
The red light struck Sirius' chest. Harry watched in horror, powerless to act, as he fell back into the Veil. Then his mouth was released from shocked paralysis. "No! SIRIUS!"
A familiar mad cackle caught his attention. Fury mingled with his terror and grief as he laid eyes on his godfather's murderer. Bellatrix Lestrange stood before him in all her glory, mocking. Harry raised his wand.
"Potter! Harry!"
Harry lashed out as he tumbled into consciousness, arms and fists flailing. He hit the dark figure leaning over him, which then staggered backward.
"Oh, my…" Harry gasped at the sight of Snape bent over the table next to his bed, clutching a bleeding nose. A bruise was forming over his eye. Harry's face throbbed in sympathy. "I'm so sorry!"
"Well," Snape said dryly, "you're the one who'll feel the pain." He drew his wand. Harry flinched, and Snape stopped, his face tightening. Very slowly, he pointed the wand at himself and healed his nose. The corresponding pain in Harry's nose disappeared. "Do you truly believe me depraved enough to punish you for a nightmare, Harry?"
It was the name that jolted Harry out of his mindless staring. His breath hitched, and he realized he had tears streaming down his cheeks. His body ached all over. The sensation brought back the memory of screaming in pain as the Bond transferred Snape's pain to him. He had cursed the madman that had bound the two of them to such a fate, and sobbed until the potions did their work and he fell into an uneasy sleep. Really, he should have expected the nightmare.
"Take off your shirt."
The command had Harry staring in panic, his mind conjuring one sordid image after another. Snape's eyebrows lowered in a thunderous frown.
"You need help, you foolish child. Do as I say; or must I take your will from you?"
Harry couldn't help the terrified sob that escaped him as he hopelessly obeyed. His fledgling Occlumency skills had deserted him; his mind was blanketed in sheer terror.
"Lie on your stomach."
He did so. The freezing air of the dungeons wafted over his aching back. "Professor, I'm sorry," Harry whimpered into his pillow, feeling utterly pathetic. Pull yourself together, idiot! he told himself, to no avail.
Soft and warm hands touched his neck. Harry went rigid, but no pain came. The fingers moved swiftly over his neck and shoulders. Wherever they passed, Harry felt his tense muscles uncoil. He took several deep breaths before speaking.
"You're…massaging?"
"No," Snape drawled. "I'm readying the red hot pokers."
Harry's face heated. "You could have told me what you were going to do."
"I greatly doubt anything I said would break through your stupefied terror."
Harry swiped at his tears as Snape continued working for several minutes, murmuring a spell now and then. His hands moved down Harry's back, and he let out an involuntary moan of relief and pleasure.
The hands stilled and left Harry's back. Harry's fists clenched. Regret and shame warred in his stomach. I probably disgust him right now.
The blanket fell around his shoulders, and the edge of the bed dipped as Snape sat down. Fingers sank into Harry's hair. He held his breath. Snape ran his fingers through Harry's messy mop. The gesture felt both comforting and paternal.
Snape was petting him.
Snape was petting him.
A shiver ran up Harry's spine, and he sighed contentedly. He felt himself again. Whatever would Ron have to say about this, he thought with amusement, picturing his friend's face.
"He was very angry, wasn't he, because you didn't go to him yesterday? Are you all right?"
Snape blew out a breath.
"...Sir," he added before Snape could scold.
"Enough unselfishness for the night, Potter," Snape ordered. His voice and touch were still gentle. "I am fine; you bore the brunt of the Dark Lord's anger."
"But the wounds would still —"
"I said, enough."
Harry fell silent. "Why do I keep shivering like that when you touch me?" He hadn't meant to sound complaining, he really hadn't... But it made him feel so silly. He really hoped it was the Bond.
"The Bond is forcing you to recognise your master's touch. "
"Oh." Enough procrastinating. Harry gathered his courage. "I think you're wrong about the Bond influencing feelings, Professor," he said quietly. At Snape's raised eyebrow, he continued. "When you wanted to help me, I wouldn't have responded like that…wouldn't have been afraid, I mean… if the Bond had me completely fooled."
Snape was silent. His hand had stopped moving, but hadn't left Harry's hair.
"Which means," Harry continued, "everything else was real too."
The hand was removed. Snape's lips twisted with some indecipherable emotion, and then his face smoothed. "Sleep, Potter," he commanded, rising from the edge of Harry's bed and dimming the lights in the room before leaving in a hurry.
'Potter' again. Tears threatened Harry's eyes, and he angrily told himself to grow up. Why was he clinging to the man like a toddler? He'd manage fine on his own. He always had.
He was careful not to scream when the same nightmare returned a few hours later, and instead lay quietly, muffling his sobs. The pillow grew damp as he mourned the loss of the only true family he had left. The events of the past few days had been so quick and devastating that he hadn't had time to think about Sirius.
The lights in the room grew bright. Harry shut his eyes at once, trying to make his breathing even and shallow. There were no footsteps, but he sensed someone drawing close.
A tear flowed down his cheek. A finger wiped it away. "If you're trying to fool someone," the silky voice drawled, "pick a victim who cannot look into your mind with ease."
"I didn't want to disturb you," Harry said, ignoring the jab. "Don't you ever sleep?"
"Why would the sight of you lying awake disturb me, Potter?" Snape said, pointedly not mentioning the tears. "And no, I have trained myself to sleep less so I can catch Harry Potter wandering the corridors after curfew."
Harry was too tired and upset to retort. He debated the relative merits of keeping quiet and flinging a pillow at the man. Another tear dripped off the end of his nose.
His mattress dipped again. "I would not recommend the pillow," Snape advised. He didn't even sound sleepy. Does he have nightmares too? "Move over, Potter."
Hary gaped at the man, wondering if he was still dreaming. A light swat to the side of his head brought him to his senses, and he slid to the other end of the bed.
"Not quite that far," Snape said patiently. Harry's stomach instantly began fluttering. Snape lifted his legs onto the bed and settled under the blanket, leaning against the headboard and looking more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him. Harry was suddenly very aware of their proximity.
Did I understand that correctly?
Slowly, tentatively, he crept towards Snape. Then Snape reached out and slid his arm under Harry before pulling him upward onto his chest. Harry let out a small gasp. As before, he relaxed completely as soon as he came in contact with the man. Snape pulled Harry close again, one arm around his shoulders and another on Harry's waist. His breath fanned Harry's cheek. Harry closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed.
"Professor," he said after a few embarrassing minutes of sobbing himself out. He wished he didn't sound quite so vulnerable. "Why are you doing this?"
Snape's fingers crept into Harry's hair again, and Harry shivered. "My condolences for your loss, Mr. Potter." His formal voice clashed horribly with their very much informal position, and Harry suppressed a hysterical giggle.
"No, you…you wanted him to…"Harry stopped, realizing he really didn't want to get into that tonight. And he noticed Snape hadn't answered his question. It couldn't be because Harry was grieving…for Snape's long-time enemy, no less. Snape wouldn't suddenly decide to be kinder to Harry because Sirius, of all people, had died. Something for which Harry still partially held Snape responsible. He taunted Sirius into leaving the house.
The answer came to him in a flash, leaving him feeling remarkably stupid for not realizing it before.
Snape was humouring him for the Bond's sake. Dumbledore must have warned Snape that Harry's health and possibly his life were at risk if they continued fighting while the Bond kept punishing him. And Snape had mellowed his attitude, not for Harry's sake, but for Lily and the war.
It was so obvious. To Snape, Harry was just a piece in a war—a vital piece, that needed to be kept alive and reasonably healthy.
He remembered the interactions between Snape and Dumbledore after he'd collapsed with pain. It had seemed like he was warning Snape to go easy on Harry. Dumbledore probably has Snape boxed into a corner...
Snape had gone stiff under him, and Harry knew he had heard his thoughts. Not that he much cared.
Snape's thumb stroked Harry's cheek, and he twitched. Snape didn't react this time. "I had no idea you blamed me for Black's death," he said, and now his soft voice was neither soothing nor reassuring.
Harry tensed. Replying was useless and unnecessary; Snape probably knew his mind inside out by now. Instead, he said, "I am grateful, you know."
Snape merely raised an eyebrow at him.
"For doing all…this." Harry gestured at the two of them. "Even if it's for the war and even if you still hate me." He was rather proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.
"Fifty lines for yet another personal remark," Snape said, lazily running a finger along Harry's jaw. The hairs on Harry's arms rose at the sensation. "And go to sleep," he added.
"That's the third time you've said that just to avoid talking," Harry complained. "You can't just send me off to sleep every time a topic comes up that you don't like!"
"As a matter of fact," Snape said, still uncharacteristically calm, "I can."
Harry saw the wand too late. His eyes began drifting shut against his will. Just before slipping into slumber, the silky voice said in his ear, "And I wouldn't judge another's motivations quite that hastily, Potter."
A/N: Short, I know. I'll try not to let it happen again.
They keep swinging back and forth, don't they, silly boys?... But I think it's more natural that way.
