CHAPTER 9

A/N:

Kisses, tears and embraces are not in themselves evidence of [slash]. –C.S. Lewis

Okay, explanations—for those who think the characters are OOC, or that my portrayal of a platonic relationship is weird/ inaccurate/ whatever, hear me out, please? The others can skip.

This story, as you may very well have figured, is a wish fulfillment technique. Pathetic, I suppose, but there it is. And writer's license and all that...

I know it's very unlikely two people would behave the way these two are in a purely platonic relationship... But the point is, I wish they would. Oh, and my little sister and I cuddle a LOT (purely platonic, obviously, eurgh), exactly like in this story. Plus, I have their Bond as an excuse to make them slightly out of character. It has practically blown apart both their barriers, laying bare their fears, weaknesses, wishes, everything. I ask you, isn't that reason enough for an unusually passionate platonic relationship? (Even then, I believe Snape wouldn't soften this easily; and that problem is resolved a few chapters later, trust me. There is a good explanation. Things are not what they seem, in this story.)

This is more passionate than an ordinary parental relationship, but then it's supposed to be. Ordinary parental relationships don't come with this much baggage, and this late in life. Also, the kind of tension here isn't usual for a family relationship, either. Both Harry and Severus are capable of a great deal of passion; only they keep it all locked away in true English fashion (rolling eyes). If they knew each other better, I think it's very likely they'd be very, very close.

But... I really can't judge my story very well, I'm too close to it. So all I'm saying is, give platonic fluff a chance, please? (A million pleases! I'm begging you!) Tell me what you think after chapter 10, or later. If you guys still think it's unlikely, I will REWRITE the whole thing. I mean it. I want my story to be at least halfway authentic where relationships are concerned, even if this story is for my pleasure. Okay? (peeking hopefully) Have I won anyone over?

Thanks to everyone who gave their opinions on this issue, they were very helpful!

SpringRoll: Thanks for the long review. I'm sorry you feel all the physical contact is weird; that must take the fun out of it for you. The cat comment made me laugh... Though you definitely have a point. Like I showed in Chapter 7, Snape's mind is flooded with Harry's emotions... He is forced to empathise with him, he can't help it. The Snape of canon is very uncomfortable with expressing emotion, but the Bond here is removing that (which was sort of the point of this story). His methods for comforting Harry... He's not comfortable with words, can you blame the guy for unconventional methods? :) This is my excuse for my self-serving scenes (I'm obsessed with platonic fluff, in case you hadn't noticed), I hope you find it persuasive.

You think Harry's OOC? Okay, think about this: JKR completely left out Harry's grieving process after Book 5. Don't you think it's likely he might have cried a little after waking from the inevitable nightmares? You do have a point here, too; Harry is usually stronger than this. But with his confrontations with Voldy, he usually has some way to fight back. With the Dursleys, I think he mostly disowned them in his mind—let it all roll off his back. Here he doesn't have those options. You see?

Oh, ew. Horribly long author's note. Here's a slightly longer-than-usual chapter to make up for it.


Harry approached the breakfast table, his stomach in knots, and knelt. "Dominus," he said, using the title respectfully.

Snape, who sat reading the Prophet, ignored him. Harry waited, but the command to rise never came. At last, he clenched his jaw and rose to serve himself, watching Snape in case the man protested, and expecting the Bond to begin punishing him.

Nothing happened.

Harry kept glancing at Snape throughout the meal. It had been a few days since that night when Snape had comforted him, and every morning since had been like this one. He shook himself angrily. It was ridiculous to feel so upset at the man's behaviour, he told himself. After all, the silent treatment from Snape was a huge improvement over his usual behaviour. And Harry's suspicion had been perfectly legitimate. Snape still hated him, he was sure; how was he supposed to trust him blindly?

He thought he saw a sudden movement from Snape just then. He can read my thoughts, why doesn't he understand? He snorted to himself. Snape? Understanding?

The memory of Snape holding him and offering comfort for Harry's grief rose in his mind.

It was all so confusing. Why had Snape helped him that night? Was the Bond affecting Snape that much; what with Snape's mind being swamped with Harry's emotions? Harry grimaced. That didn't sound pleasant. Harry suddenly felt a fierce wave of regret at letting his guard down around this man, of all people. What was I thinking? Even with the horrid Bond messing up my mind, how could I be fooled?

Snape stood just then, his chair nearly falling back at the violence of the motion. He silently handed Harry a list of chores and left for the potions laboratory. Harry sat looking at the door he'd left through, his breakfast sitting like a lump in his stomach.

By the end of the day, Harry caught himself wondering if the new side of Snape that had seen had been his imagination. He had spent the day working, and Snape hadn't summoned him for Occlumency lessons. He had racked his brains for days for a solution to his current situation with Snape. The beginnings of an idea had sprung in his mind as he sat at his table, writing a letter to Hermione.

A knock sounded at the door and Snape stepped in. "The Headmaster is here to see you," he said in a flat voice, and left before Harry could say anything.

That had been the only time he'd spoken to Harry all day.

Harry found Dumbledore sitting on a couch, his eyes twinkling madly, for some reason unfathomable to Harry. Snape silently took his place in a corner of the room. "My boy," Dumbledore said, seeming happily oblivious to the tension in the room, "Professor Snape tells me he thinks your Occlumency skills have progressed enough that I should test them."

Harry's jaw dropped. He glanced at Snape, wondering if the man was playing some trick. Snape's dace darkened, and Harry hastily looked away as he realised Snape must have heard that thought. "I, uh—I don't understand, Professor," he said. "I can barely block Professor Snape from seeing my memories…almost never, actually. I was able to clear my mind with a little help from him," he blushed when Dumbledore smiled at the word help, "but after that, the lessons went sort of downhill."

Dumbledore was still smiling. What did he find so amusing about Snape helping Harry clear his mind? "I know, Harry," he said. "We think it might be because of your Bond that you cannot shut him out. If, on the other hand, I legilimise you, that will not apply."

"Oh." Harry thought about that for a moment, trying not to be distracted by Snape's presence. "But I thought your teaching me was too dangerous?"

"I will not be teaching you, Harry. I believe you have already learnt," Dumbledore said simply.

Harry gaped again. Dumbledore merely looked back at him, smiling. Harry felt a pressure against his forehead, and realised he was being legilimised. He began to try and clear his mind, but the pressure vanished quickly.

"Or, rather," Dumbledore said, "the nature of the Bond is changing as your perceptions of each other change, and the Bond itself will is acting as your safeguard against outside assault."

"The Bond is protecting my mind from V—him?" He realised too late that he was still adhering to Snape's wishes about names when Dumbledore was in the room and it shouldn't have mattered.

"Yes."

There was silence as Harry drank in this startling pronouncement. "Will this put Professor Snape in danger? I mean, when he has to face V—him?"

Dumbledore sent Snape an indecipherable glance. "No, Harry. The Bond provides him with protection as well." Snape's face twisted as if he found this idea repulsive. Harry's fists clenched. "Well!" Dumbledore said happily, "this is good news indeed. Although I do think you will need to continue lessons, Harry; for when the Bond is satisfied and hence broken, the protection will probably be gone as well."

"Probably?" Harry exclaimed, and then bit his lip at the hopefulness in his voice. He wanted the Bond gone, both physical and mental. He wasn't supposed to sound happy at the prospect of having his mind open to Snape forever. Snape's face was blank again, but Harry thought he looked like he agreed. Harry bit down on his lip harder.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Clearly, we cannot predict its behaviour." With that ominous pronouncement, he stood and took his leave after wishing both of them well.

"Sir?" Harry called after Snape, who looked like he was about to retreat into his laboratory again. "Could…Could you wait, just for a minute? I have something I need to show you." He ran to his room as soon as he was sure Snape wouldn't leave, and returned holding his idea in his hands. This is stupid, Harry told himself. I'm being completely stupid. I'm supposed to be keeping him at arm's length, not apologising. He handed it to Snape.

"What is this?"

Well, at least he was talking. "It's my album of photos of my family." Snape's head snapped up so fast he must've gotten whiplash. Harry swallowed. "I've been thinking, and from what I could make out of your memories," he hesitated when he saw Snape clench his fist, then continued, "I don't think you have many photos of her." Snape went still, and Harry knew he didn't need to clarify. "I know you won't want to see most of these, but I thought you'd like to sift through them yourself and duplicate the ones you want..."

And cut out the people you don't like, of course. He didn't say this out loud, but he knew Snape could hear anyway.

Snape shot into motion. He towered over Harry, an ugly look on his face. "How many times must I tell you not to presume…?"

The sound of his voice faded, along with the room, and all Harry could think was, Worst timing ever. He was in one of Snape's memories again.

"Hey, Snivellus!" Harry tumbled to the ground as hex tripped him up. He gritted his teeth as everyone in the corridor burst into laughter.

This time it was memory after memory of James and Sirius' Snape-hunting, as Harry now called it. Snape gave as good as he got, but by the time Harry was out of the memories, he was sick to the stomach at how many times the attacks had been completely unprovoked. And at how their hatred was mostly unfounded.

He blinked to clear his blurry vision, wondering why the pain hadn't hit yet. In the past, there had been pain every time he accessed one of Snape's memories. His vision cleared, and he realised two things: one, that he'd been crying again, hence the blurry vision, and two, that he was sitting on Snape's lap.

Well, almost.

That thought didn't help. Harry blushed, but he didn't dare move for fear of offending Snape again. He didn't dare look at the man, either, so he contented himself with pressing his nose into Snape's chest and hoping the man would leave him alone.

No such luck. "Get off me, Potter, I am in no mood to coddle you today."

Harry complied with alacrity, trying not to show how much that hurt. "You…" He sputtered in anger, not even knowing where to begin. "What do you want from me? Is it so wrong that I think you're being nice to me because Dumbledore ordered you to? I know he turned up the day I collapsed!"

"Keep your voice down," Snape snarled. "I warn you—if you collapse again now, because of disrespect to your master, I will not help you."

"Oh, for the love of—you're not my master!" The pain was immediate and horrible. Harry swayed on his feet, breathing hard. Snape sat watching him in cold silence. "I'm sorry," Harry said through gritted teeth, "for assuming the worst about you. And about the photographs. I honestly didn't mean any harm, okay? I was trying to apologise for offending you." He nearly laughed at the stunned look on Snape's face. "And I'm sorry about what my father did to you." He bit back the rest, but knew Snpe was probably hearing his thoughts anyway. Honestly, it's about time you got over it—or at least realised I'm not the same!

Harry noticed Snape's fingers were inching towards the album, but now they stopped. He pointed his wand at Harry, who only had time to stiffen before a familiar sensation crept over his back. He pressed his lips together to stop a relieved moan from escaping. It felt exactly like Snape's fingers that night as he had skilfully massaged his sore muscles.

"What is—?"

"A replicating spell. You will feel the effects of a massage without someone actually doing it for you."

"Oh."

"Come here, Harry." Snape's voice had gone soft, and not in the menacing manner this time.

Harry sighed in irritation. I suppose an apology was too much to ask for. Honestly, I don't why I put up with this. "I'm sorry, Professor." He tried to keep his tone neutral and formal, which was difficult when the invisible fingers from the replicating spell climbed up his spine and all he wanted to do was let Snape hold him. "I don't feel like being coddled at the moment either." His irritation increased when Snape merely looked at him as though he knew Harry was lying. He could tell he'd annoyed Snape, too. "Goodnight, sir."

"Wait." Harry gasped as the cloud descended over his mind. "Stop," Snape said. "Kneel. You have not been dismissed."

"Dominus." The word left his mouth against his will. Harry cast a betrayed look at the man as the cloud lifted from his mind.

"To bed, Potter."


Harry tossed and turned in bed, unable to get to sleep. There had been only silence from the other side of his door for the last hour. His lips tightened at the thought of how Snape had overpowered his will.

A sob broke through the silence.

He lay very still and listened. There it was again. Could Snape be—no. Absolutely not.

But of course he'd never be able to sleep now. The hold on his will had long faded, so he got off his bed and silently crept to the door. He slipped out and stood still, staring.

Snape sat on the sofa, hunched over a few rectangular pieces of paper that he clutched in his hands. Harry's album sat by him. Tears ran down his face, dripping off his chin and nose.

Oh.

He really should leave, Harry thought, before Snape saw him. He didn't need another —quite literally—painful lecture on privacy. He stiffened and almost stepped back in panic as Snape suddenly rose. But the man swept out of the door without a look at Harry.

Strange. He always knew when someone was in the room, especially when he could sense that someone's mind all the time. He had to have known Harry was there.

Harry followed him out. The black-clad figure (it suddenly made sense why Snape always wore mourning colours, Harry thought with a tightening of his throat) swept out of the dungeons and up staircases. They ended up in the Owlery. Snape headed for a window and stood leaning against the window sill, head bowed.

Harry couldn't bear it any longer. He walked up to the man slowly; making sure Snape heard his footfalls. Snape showed no reaction except for the hitching of his breath. Harry extended his hand and put it on the man's arm.

Snape stood as still as a statue.

Harry's hand trailed upwards towards Snape's shoulder.

It was difficult to say who moved first, but a moment later Harry's head was on the potions master's shoulder and they were in each other's arms.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Professor," Harry whispered, echoing Snape's words to him as he had grieved. Snape's only reply was to move his fingers into Harry's hair. They stood in comfortable silence, Harry unable to believe his luck.

"You fool," Snape said softly after a long while. "Comforting your tormentor and enemy, feeling compassion for their sorrow…you are entirely unfit for any kind of war, Potter."

Harry's only reply was to insist, "Harry."

"You're going to regret this," Snape promised. He was still stroking Harry's hair, which Harry thought was a little contradictory. He felt Snape's touch on his mind. The man jerked and stepped back. "You've been hiding your pain from me."

"Erm," Harry replied, remembering the number of times in the past few days that he had nearly collapsed from pain. He had thought Snape knew, and was refusing to help. "It was nothing."

"Liar." Snape's tone was cool, clinical. "From now on you will come to me when you are in pain resulting from punishment by the Bond. That is an order."

Harry recoiled in horror as the cloud descended over his mind. "No!" he said, hissing at the pain caused by his fighting off the influence.

At once, Snape grabbed him into a firm but gentle hold. "Stop fighting it!"

"Stop ordering me, then!" Harry pushed weakly at Snape's chest. "Please, Professor!"

Snape growled in frustration and pulled him closer. The cloud lifted from Harry's mind. "Why can you not see that I am doing this to protect you from your own foolish pride? The Bond's punishments may well end up killing you!"

"I don't care!" Harry said, and added mentally, Because this is one of the few things I have control over anymore!

Snape's lips were set in a stubborn line. The cloud suddenly returned, swamping Harry's mind completely, and he slumped against his teacher. "I'll do it," he heard himself say. Then his mind was his own again, and he felt something soft and warm on his forehead.

Snape was kissing him, now. A shiver ran up Harry's spine. He wanted to cling to the man and he wanted to run away.

"Whatever else you may believe of me," Snape murmured against Harry's skin, "believe at least that I wish you to remain alive and healthy."

Don't, Harry pleaded silently.

"Don't what, child?" Snape sounded so gentle it made Harry's breath catch.

Don't act like you care.

Silence. And then Snape called, "Dobby!"

Harry started when the elf appeared with a crack. "What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter sir and Professor Snape sir?" he said, his eyes large and eager in the darkness.

"Take us to my bedroom," Snape commanded. Harry only had time to let out a flustered, "What?" before space twisted around them and spat them out in an unfamiliar room. Snape held him up as he staggered and nearly fell.

"You are weak and pale," Snape accused.

"Er…"

"Sit." Snape pushed him into a chair, and then wordlessly summoned a vial of potion. He extended it to Harry, who slowly took it and looked up at Snape fearfully. Snape's face darkened.

"What is it?"

"You'll see." Snape stood over him menacingly. "Drink it."

"Why have you brought me here?"

"For goodness' sake, Potter!" Snape exploded. "Must you make it so difficult for someone to help you?" He waved his wand in a complicated movement, and a cold sensation filled Harry's stomach. He looked down to find the vial empty.

"Hey!" It was the oddest sensation; much like he imagined Alice in Wonderland would have felt when she shrunk down to the size of a small rodent. In his case, he seemed to have shrunk to the size of a five year old. He jumped up in alarm, only to trip over his now overly large clothes. Snape flicked his wand again, and Harry's clothes shrunk down to his new size, but Harry was in no mood to appreciate the gesture. He clenched his fists. "What have you done?" He wanted to ignore the pain that came as a result of this disrespect, but Snape bent down and awkwardly picked him up, ignoring Harry's loud protests.

"Shut up, Harry," he said wearily, sitting down in the armchair with Harry in his lap. Harry squirmed uncomfortably, but Snape held him fast.

"You can't—why did you…" Gracious, even his voice was high-pitched like a five-year old's.

"Because it is not appropriate for a teacher and a teenaged student to behave like a pair of new lovers," Snape stated.

Harry glared, trying not to blush at the description. "And this is your grand solution, is it?"

"Manners, Potter," Snape drawled. "I realise you will not particularly like it at first, but it is the best way I can help you keep the Bond satisfied and simultaneously keep your sanity and health intact. This is my condition, P—Harry."

You aren't leaving me much choice, are you? Harry thought in resentment.

Snape tilted his head like a curious cat. The comparison did not help remove the sense of surrealism that had descended over the entire conversation. His fingers trailed up Harry's back and traced patterns on his neck. "Would you truly prefer suffering all that pain to this?"

Harry growled in frustration when his body responded with a shiver to Snape's touch. "You haven't even told me exactly what 'this' is!"

"Your body has been shrunk down to the size of a five year old, although you look even smaller." Snape's lip twitched at Harry's scowl. "Your mind and abilities: mental, physical and magical, remain exactly the same."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. That was actually better than it could have been. Another thought occurred to him. "But then I'm actually a sixteen year old! What difference does any of this make?"

"Perception," Snape said in a flat voice, and Harry could tell he was losing patience.

He sighed. "You know, by this argument you could shrink me down so I could fit in your palm—Professor!" he exclaimed in alarm at Snape's speculative expression. "I wasn't serious!"

Snape looked amused again; an odd expression on the usually dour man. He stood, put Harry in the chair, and said, "You may sleep there—," he transfigured the chair into a bed—"or return to your room. If you need me at night, you may call me or share my bed." Snape had reduced the light levels in the room, so Harry couldn't tell if he'd imagined the awkward expression on his teacher's face. His voice had been as smooth as ever.

Harry lay staring at the ceiling of Snape's room after Snape had gotten into bed. The ceiling was charmed to have little twinkling lights on it. The effect was not quite as realistic as the stars on the ceiling of the Great Hall, but still very beautiful. Who would have known Snape appreciated such things?

Return to your room. Your room. Snape had been referring to his spare bedroom as Harry's for a while now, but Harry hadn't really noticed. Odd, that his living conditions were better as Snape's slave than as the Dursleys' unwelcome resident.

Did you charm the ceiling, Professor? He was learning not to think too loudly so that his voice wouldn't be the mental equivalent of a shout in Snape's mind. He didn't want to wake the man if he was already asleep.

Snape took so long to respond that Harry thought he really was asleep. "Yes."

It's fantastic.

"Goodnight, Harry." Snape sounded tired. Harry felt a stab of guilt at causing him so much trouble.

"Goodnight, sir."


A/N: Okay, I know Harry's being confusing. That's coz he's confused :) (Actually, the same thing applies to Snape.) With everything he knows about Snape now, he can't really return to simply hating him, especially after Snape started to be nice to him. Also, Harry is (I believe) far more mature and forgiving than Snape is. Witness how he named his son after his childhood tormentor, in canon. Would Snape ever have done that, if the positions were reversed? Nuh-uh. And all this is without taking the Bond into consideration.

Next chapter: A glimpse into Snape's thoughts during this fiasco. Prepare for at least a mild shock. (Understatement, methinks.)

It's midnight and I'm half asleep; please excuse any mistakes I've made—tell me and I'll correct them (this applies to all chapters, really).