During the next few days, medical experts were brought in to look at Harry's leg. He lay in his room and endured tests and remedies intended to have a cohesive effect on his magic and his body, but no changes were seen. When the CIUM agents and wizarding traffic had left Harry to mend in peace, Ash figured it couldn't hurt to add a muggle's touch and continued to check on his injuries and keep them cleaned and dressed in spite of all the magic he was told was taking care of it.

Harry didn't have any trouble dialing down the pain because his mind was occupied with thoughts of someone in more pain than he was. Like vomiting poison, at first he rejected the glimpse he'd seen of Voldemort defiling Snape, and his brain clawed to get away from it. But when the pain killers hit and he started to have a sense of relief, he felt that hidden knowing slipping away, and with it, his connection to the innermost part of Snape's mind. He realized he'd rather face his revulsion than lose precious contact with Snape's soul and secrets forever. So he made himself remember and look at it. And feel it. He replayed the scene, touches, teeth, disturbing engorgement and that strange heat ramming through him, over and over, stopping when he'd reached his tolerance threshold each time. He waited out the nausea, let it settle, then repeated the process until he could look at the memory without flinching.

During this time, his mind was too disturbed to let healing take place, as he repeatedly subjected it to stresses that began deep inside his thoughts. He tried telling Ash not to feel sorry for him. Things looked worse than they really were. But he couldn't explain that he was actually training himself to face Snape's secrets, and his body would only reflect that with slow healing. He made himself feel what Snape had felt, and factored in the months and years his former teacher must've dedicated to Voldemort, subjected to that kind of torment over decades. And it was all because Voldemort must've discovered that he had a very unusual plaything on his hands. Is that how he got the idea to humiliate Draco and Lucius so? From discovering what his father had done to Snape? That loop of responsibility overwhelmed Harry and kept him silent whenever Snape entered the room.

Each time Snape visited, Harry was sure to give him a big, reassuring smile. It's all an illusion, his grin seemed to say. All that mess, my leg, it's nothing. And it was. He wasn't worried about it in the least. He was adjusting to something and he needed Snape to bear with him.

There were moments when he pretended to sleep, because he knew that Snape was standing over him, and neither knew how to cross that chasm between them. He was touched that, him taking the injury back from Snape in such an exaggerated way, affected him at all. During those times, they both knew that he wasn't asleep, but he cooperated with Snape's need to watch him without being watched in return.

During one such moment, Snape spoke, "Harry, I know what you saw. Unfortunately, our minds share a space in which thoughts and memories are accessible to each other. I don't know if some locking mechanism is permanently stripped because of our occlumency lessons, our manipulations, or because you're the Elder Wand, or because you're Harry and you always seem to get what you want, or all the above. In any case, you must forget what you saw. Without context, it's just a nightmare from a past long gone. Do not give it present power by letting it affect you in any way."

Harry dared not peek, but he wanted to. He wanted to see if Snape shook his head when his voice indicated a small, exasperated sigh. "I tried to protect you from the evil that touches me, but you are so damned insistent. What you saw, was the kind of thing rampant in my past. I am unfit to be in your life. I am unfit to be around your child and family. I cannot separate myself from my past, so evil like that, goes with me wherever I go. I'm only talking about it now, because you saw too much. When I leave, you will have this explanation, at least, to comfort you."

Beneath his eyelids, Harry's pupils rolled with spiked tension. He couldn't keep them closed any longer. He couldn't pretend. When he opened them, Snape was staring down at him.

"That's not very comforting," Harry croaked. His throat was closing on the emotion he felt.

"You silly boy. I'll not rehash the issue with you again. This tantrum has gained you nothing."

"I take it, it worked? Your knee is all better?"

"Of course it is. You saw to that, before butchering yourself."

"Cool. You're free to go."

Snape's face tightened and they both knew Harry had him by the balls.

"Why are you doing this? Your antics are no better than a child's."

Harry heard himself say, "This injury is a ball of blame and regret that we keep passing back and forth to each other. It's my turn to deal with it, that's all. I've been blaming you for setting me up to need you, and then being pushed away by you. What I saw in your mind tells me that I'm just another burden that you don't need. If you want to leave now, you have my blessing."

Snape leaned down. "Your blessing means absolutely nothing to me, Harry Potter! I could leave you and trust that you'll sort yourself out on your own. Or I could get down to the problem locked inside that knotted twine that you call a brain. You've been in therapy for years, yet you seem no closer to seeing beyond your narcissistic assumption that you are the common denominator of every decision I make. The truth of the matter is, if you had minded your own business, you would not have been subjected to the evils in my past. If you're scarred for life, then it's your own fault and you deserve it."

Harry winced, but said with amusement, "You're mad at me for getting to see that you're human after all. You're mad at me for being one of the few people on this planet who really gets to see who you are and what you've gone through. Be mad all you want. To me, it's an honor. I'm sorry it causes you so much shame."

Snape drew back and looked as though he could've sprayed and onslaught of nails at Harry, directly from his teeth. "You will receive no sympathy from me. You will get out of that bed and walk. I've seen what you can do with your body, there is no logical reason for you to have done this to yourself."

"It's like a cut," Harry said, looking up at the ceiling. "This thing we keep passing back and forth. When the wound is no longer there, that's the equivalent of forgiveness and completely letting go. The injury is still here, because I feel your pain and I can't let it go. I can't let my father get away with what he did to you. I can't let you stay a victim. Now that I know what it means to hold someone, where my dad used hate to make you suffer all these years, I want to use love. I can't change the past, but that's the beauty of love. It's so valid in the present, that it dominates the past."

He didn't check to see if he had lost Snape or not. He kept talking. "After Lucius did that to me, I didn't think I'd ever be able to stomach another person's touch ever again. Draco proved me wrong. He made himself vulnerable to me, in a way that I'd vowed never to become vulnerable with another person. I know it sounds crazy, but therapy comes in all forms. Think about how people are rehabilitated to walk again. They have to go through slow and painful exercises. They have to regress to tedious, childish, piece-meal steps that are a fraction of what they used to be able to do. It's very frustrating and no one would put up with it if they didn't have to. But people want to walk again, so they're patient with themselves and the therapist, and they allow new connections in their thinking and they learn anew. It could be like that. Be open to something the world might not understand. Let me show you."

"What are you talking about now?"

"What I saw. I literally saw you sealing off a part of your mind and body from the repulsion that Voldemort filled you with. When my father did it, I couldn't look at it that closely. But I had no choice when I was in your mind. I felt him. He pushed inside of me and I had no choice but to move beneath his insistence, his weight, his smell, his thrusts. No wonder you can't accept spending any amount of time with me. You can't accept human intimacy at all. Even an innocent relationship is filled with intimate familiarity.

"You can save my life all day long, but when you feel me in your heart, asking for approval, even love, you get as far from those feelings as possible. You can't let someone in without Voldemort and my father resurfacing. You can't be vulnerable without also being experiencing revulsion. I mean, you could do it, but you don't want those feelings contaminating what good you have left in life. So you try to keep it all separate."

"That's my business. I don't tell you how to handle yours."

"You do, actually. But think about it. Think about what Draco did for me. I was coming from where you're coming. He wanted me to recover so badly, that it was nothing for him to give his damaged body to me. You know how vain he is. He became selfless. He'd do anything to get me to stop replaying that horrible night over and over again. He opened his legs to me like it was nothing. And stupid me, felt entitled to take that from him. I went from using sex as a distraction, to anger fucking, to learning how to make love and make sure that the other person feels cherished and free to show who they really are in my arms. All in the span of two years."

"What are you getting at? You've already said as much. It was just as painful to listen to the first time." Snape had turned as if he were about to leave. Clearly, Harry's liberty with words, did not sit well with him.

"I'm trying to say it differently. I don't know how to say it without you running out of here like a bitchy little girl."

Snape faced him and stood to his full height. "Just say it."

"I know how to make this injury go away forever. It's just the expression of a wound that won't heal, after all. It requires therapy. I have a theory."

"Make your point."

"This injury is tied to you because I tied it to you, with all that I want to correct. I didn't mean to, but I did. I can't undo what my father did to you, but hear me out. When Draco and I were on the run, we took comfort the best way we knew how. He gave himself to me without hesitation, without fear, without disgust for what he looked like. And at first, I didn't want that from him. It meant something different after it happened to me, so it was unbearable. But I needed him. I needed to put my head on his shoulder and just sink into him and let all my anger out. Eventually, him letting me empty my feelings out like that, became something I couldn't live without."

"Excessive and unnecessary information."

"We began to touch again and make love again, until we tuned ourselves back to something that resembled a healthy relationship. Even great sex. He made me see that it isn't these skin suits that make all the difference in the world, it's how our minds play tricks on us and make us think a flap of skin, in the right place, shaped to look like something everyone approves of, is what defines us. It's not. It's what we have to give when we're holding another person. Or what we hand over, when we're letting them hold us. It's being that naked and honest, and trusting them with it."

"I may vomit."

"When someone loves you, and you have nothing to give them but your soul, then they really love you. And if you have the courage to expose that to them, then you have the courage to return that love. That's what my father took away from you. That's what Voldemort took from you. You're good at needing nothing and no one, because you've sealed those areas of your soul off, to protect yourself. At one time it served you well. But now, it's only keeping the love you deserve, from reaching you. Voldemort is gone. My father is gone, and yet there's a seventeen year-old version of yourself, still running around defending himself. I want to give you what Draco gave me."

"The next words out of your mouth better be, a tailored suit of clothes and a villa near Hyde Park."

Harry kept his eyes forward, so that he could get the words out without being intimidated by Snape's disapproval.

"I want to teach you to access your greatest asset. Your soul. Your pleasure in your self. Your body is that gateway. I want you to use me for pleasure. Do to me, what my father did to you. What Voldemort did to you."

"You have lost your mind."

He held his stare and spoke forcefully. "I'm serious. I'm willing, which makes it different. I see now, what needs to be done. And I'm not only willing, I want to. I want to show you that touching in a positive way, can restore you. You've handled all of this by yourself for so long. I had Draco holding me most nights. All my panic and pain, had somewhere to go. I know I sound crazy and I don't expect an answer right away. Just hear me out and think about it. It's a bombshell, I know. But so was seeing what Voldemort did to you, and in that moment I knew I had to reverse that. Hell, if I thought that's what sex is like, I wouldn't get near another human, either."

"Silence! I'll have you know, I am no stranger to fleshly matters. I have bedded women and men equally and I assure you, not that it's any of your business, but I know my way around the boudoir. Believe it or not, your assistance is not required."

"Yeah, but have you ever seduced anyone who wasn't part of Voldemort's orders, or some plan to get information out of them? Have you ever made love to anyone without an ulterior motive, or as part of a scheme to manipulate them?"

Snape folded his arms and shrugged. "Perhaps that's what I like. You weren't ready to see Voldemort in my head, you're not ready to comprehend what I do in the privacy of my own bed. Stir your own pot, Harry."

This was the equivalent of being told to stay in your own lane.

Harry remained undaunted. "I got back at Lucius when his son opened his legs for me willingly. And then Draco gave me so much more than revenge. He gave me myself back. He showed me that I didn't need revenge, I just needed to heal that part of me that Lucius damaged. Now I want to help you heal that part of you that my father damaged."

He considered himself lucky that Snape was still in the room. He pushed himself up a little.

"Share yourself with me. I dare you. Have the courage to face your own vulnerabilities with someone who loves you. Make love to me. Not for me, for you. When I know that you can give that, because you've fully recovered, emotionally and physically, from what my dad did, then I can untie the knot that binds my injuries to you. I can forgive my dad. Otherwise, I can't forgive him, if you have to hurt and run from love for the rest of your life. If you have to live with a wound, then I'll live with one too. I'll never give up on you. You never gave up on me.

"Use my body. Use me, to show my dad that you are whole and you are a man, and nothing he's done to you, is stopping you from loving yourself and others. That's what pleasure is, you know. That's why it feels so good. It's the soul knowing that it deserves love, no matter what it does or what anyone thinks. That's it's birthright. And that's why shame feels so horrible. It's the complete opposite. Shame is others trying to convince the soul that it has no right to feel good, especially when they can't, and that's just bullshit."

"Harry, you're so lost." Snape rubbed his forehead. He might've been staring at a rubble of devastation, not knowing what to tackle first. Harry could tell that his suggestion overwhelmed him, so he rushed on, trying to get out every single word before Snape turned his back on him.

"You have a right to life and life is all about standing in the sun and soaking up all that light. Consider sleeping with me. I'm restored. I'm that light, because Draco's love put me back together and makes me want you to know what it's like to love life again. I want to give you something I've never even given him, though he's the inspiration for it. You've seen me change my body. I want to offer you an opportunity. Forgive me, but I want to open my legs for you. I want you to do to me, what my father did to you. I'll play that part. That role."

Snape bared his teeth and frowned as if Harry had just bitten his hand. "You certainly will not and I ought to purge that filth from your mind with a good memory obliteration."

"Then do it, because I know what I'm talking about and my mind is made up. When I felt what Voldemort was doing to you, I felt your soul shrink to hide itself, to diminish it's presence. You wanted to die and never be found again by him. He did that to you so many times, that you just stayed in that dark and learned to exist in it."

"That is your interpretation of events, for which, you have no context."

"You wanted to die, but you wanted to save so many people, that you just took it. I've gone back to that over and over. I can see your wheels, you know. I can see you shutting your love of yourself and your body, down. And all that stuff that makes life feel good. You shut it down and told yourself that it wasn't real, no matter what people say. If someone like my father can prance around in love and acting as if life was really wonderful, then it's all a sham and everyone's in on it."

"You don't know my thoughts. Those are your assumptions."

"Prove me wrong. I'll get out of this bed. I'll walk. I'll get myself ready and one day soon, I'll present myself to you. Make love to me. Use me. Just go to that place with me where two people have to be completely absent of ego. I'm not just talking about stupid sex. I'm talking about… well, love. Believe me, I know the difference."

"Harry Potter! You are twenty years younger than me, you most certainly do not know the difference. You don't know anything. How dare you degrade the time you've begged me to give you, with such talk."

"I know you're old enough to be my dad. So what? You're not related to me, you said so. As long as we're adults, what does it matter? You have a wound and I know how to fix it. And it's sexual in nature, so what's the point of pretending that's off limits? Boundaries were crossed when these wounds were created, so they'll be crossed in attempting to heal them. We can act like moral hypocrites about it, or we can set all that aside and try something mature and meaningful. And besides, I've always wanted to kiss you."

Snape ignored the irrelevant flattery that he considered to be false.

"What makes you think it's okay to speak to me this way? What signal have I given you to deceive you into thinking I am at all receptive to such ideas?"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I told you. I saw it and I felt it. The minute I became you, beneath him, I saw how the whole mechanism worked. I saw the key that fits the lock. I'm telling you, it's sexual. Please don't drag this through some socially inappropriate, morality bullshit. I'm not a student anymore. Hell, I nearly let Ash fuck me before I knew who he was. I'm far from innocent. Lucius saw to that."

If he'd wanted to win Snape over, this was the wrong thing to say. Disgust made Snape look like he was sucking on a lemon. He jabbed back at Harry, "You can delude yourself all you want. But I refuse to participate in your maladjusted fantasies."

He turned, and Harry called after him, "I know it sounds disrespectful, but I mean the exact opposite."

Before he could finish his sentence, the door slammed closed.

In the hall, Snape was a flourish of long strides, quickly passing Ash walking in his direction with a tray towards Harry's room.

Ash brightened, "How's he doing?"

Snape brushed passed him. "Harry is evil."

Ash pondered this as he watched Snape take the stairs without another word. Snape's behavior troubled him, but he was learning not to ask questions that had answers he really didn't want to know.

After Ash set his tray down, he made an attempt to get a smile out of Harry. "I don't know what you said to get that man all flustered, but it worked. He passed me like a fart on the wind."

Harry lay there wanting to kick himself. He knew he'd said everything all wrong. Of course Snape was going to turn his back on nonsense that sounded like that. He'd made it sound so impersonal, like the act of taking medicine. He knew better, he just didn't know how to say it better.

"Wanna talk?" Ash risked his peace of mind, but Harry seemed so miserable.

Harry shook his head, but showed his appreciation by answering, "Thanks, though."

Ash left him and he searched his mind for how he should've handled Snape. He discovered that he was of two minds. The rational one tried to consider Snape's feelings and took great pains to reduce therapeutic sex to fact-based activity and physiological responses. It tried to spare them both those sloppier, awkward feelings between 'weird' and 'wrong' and 'icky'. But it was just the face of something more anxious and practically simmering in emotions and a molten center too sensitive to show openly. He wanted to make love with Snape. To Snape. Now that he knew the power of it, the answer of it, he wanted it as sincerely as he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Draco would get it. He'd understand. The curse had already broken that aspect of their psyche. They had no more games to play, as far as sex was concerned. It wasn't some holy, sacred, magic, so pure and far above the antics of humanity that it had to be placed on a pedestal and reserved for "special people." Maybe it was that, for people who never had to survive inhumane treatment. But for him, sex was energy-releasing, factual biology, as integral to people as sleep, digestion, and all other expressions of biological rhythms. Even masturbation could be a rich sex life with one's self. It had certainly fulfilled his needs before he hooked up with Draco.

Snape had stopped this rhythm and flow within himself, and his body and mind lived in the shadows that denied him the warmth of nurturing, sensual sunlight and touch. What Harry offered, was akin to holding a flame to a wick and restoring a light that's gone out.

As much as no one wanted to be on the receiving end of pity sex, Snape wasn't exactly open to being desired and seduced, so Harry had hidden that part of the explanation. He tried to use transparency instead and only sounded worse for all his clinical assessment and solution. But he was trying to avoid seeming as much like his father as possible. Snape had to know his intentions up front. And more importantly, he had to be willing. Once they got past that, Harry could pour on as much charm as he wanted. It might be fun, although that's not the word that comes to mind when he thinks about his fantasies of Snape in school. More like dangerous and hot, which is why this could've been so fucking perfect.

Timing was crazy-perfect. Draco had practically pushed him away. If his words from a couple of months ago were any indication, he might as well have yelled at Harry, "Don't come back until you've fucked him and gotten it thoroughly out of your system."

He knew Draco hadn't meant it like that, but they both had deeper issues when it came to sex, that almost made sleeping with Snape par for the course. They both had wild cards and knew those would appear from life's shuffled deck sooner or later. Draco had buried any hint of an incestuous past with his father, but he couldn't extricate himself from the stigma and shame. And he knew that Harry's obsession with Snape leaned on the unhealthy side. So get it over with. Go for it. Especially when it's the answer to healing.

Maybe this was his magic throwing a tantrum. Maybe he's always wanted to be closer to Snape, never daring to dream that sleeping with him was a possibility. But his subconscious desires were way ahead of him and his magic wasn't about to lose Snape forever without taking that trip down ecstasy lane. He hadn't wanted to reduce such a meaningful relationship to skin and disposable fluids, so some part of him had doctored all of this. This dance back and forth with the injuries, just to get him to let himself have what he wanted from Snape. To get him to ask for it. And now Snape believes he's become some sexual charity case, when the truth is, Harry would give anything to know what it feels like to have Snape deep inside of him.

He wanted to memorize the man's fluids burning his inner lining. He didn't want to have sex with Snape because he felt sorry for him. He wanted to do it, because he wanted to enjoy it. And that was the line that he hated himself for crossing. It made him look like a just a horny bastard, no different than his father, and Snape deserved more respect than that.

Fuck.