62. The Truth Part 2
I'm a liar It's my secret no one knows
I'm a liar
Yeah, I know it doesn't show
No, I don't miss you anymore
No, I don't think of you
It's such a game to seem adored
No, I don't love you anymore*
In my office in ten minutes, Potter.
Severus stared at the green stone, wondering what on earth had possessed him to send that message.
The boy hadn't spoken to him since Severus tied him up and fucked him during his last detention. He could still feel his reproachful stares, and to be honest, it was starting to annoy him a bit.
He finally decided to do something about it. And since he had already finished the potions he was going to brew for the Dark Lord and a few Death Eaters, the Admorsusexcetra potion didn't require much attention at the moment and Severus had the evening off... there was nothing stopping him from-
The stone glowed, interrupting his thoughts. Severus read the message:
I'm sorry, but I can't come. I'm serving the detention you assigned me. And since cleaning bathrooms is a very long and tedious job, I suspect it will take me the next few days, or maybe even longer.
Severus had a hard time keeping himself from crushing the stone.
Potter's insolence had already reached such a level that only by some strange coincidence, he had not yet fallen to the bottom along with it. How dare he turn his words against himself? How dare he use the detention that Severus himself had given him against him? How dare he make him look for himself in all the bathrooms?
A little voice in his head reminded him that he didn't actually have to look for him. He could ignore it. He can wait until detention.
But then Potter may think he has won, and Severus will never allow that.
He looked at the jewel in his hand once more and stuffed it into his robe pocket.
Potter was doing it again. He was being forced to act again. To...commitment. The boy should run to him whenever he calls him, not stretch out his little claws suddenly and growl. He was demanding. He demanded much more than Severus had originally thought. And the worst thing was that Severus had to meet these requirements so that the boy wouldn't bite the leash and run too far.
Oh, he won't be easy on him this time. This time he would tighten it so tightly that Potter wouldn't even think about struggling again... and that he could get away with growling at his owner...
Severus was already halfway down the hall when the echo of the door slamming shut finally ceased.
The door that Severus was staring at was consumed by fire. Just like his body.
He still couldn't get the image of Potter and... Weasley out of his head. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was eating away at his insides when he saw them together in the bathroom, alone, laughing... and he could still see her lips on Potter's lips and hear her say that Potter belonged to her... . to her!
The flames turned into a conflagration, devouring the dark wood and the black-clad figure.
Potter was his property. His place was here. In Severus' chambers. In his hands. No one else was allowed to touch him. To think about him. To desecrate it. Only him, Severus.
Severus closed his eyes for a moment and licked his lips, trying to extinguish the raging fire that ignited in his veins every time he remembered Potter's whimpers when the boy was clinging to his robes and his fervent assurances:
I am only yours. I will always be only yours. I'm not interested in anyone else. I belong only to you!
Oh, how he wanted to crush him in his hands at that moment; to crush his bones, tear him into tiny pieces; to ram his madly throbbing cock into him so deep that Potter could feel his cum in his throat; to tear him apart with it and leave his mark on every cell of his body and soul... so he would never forget his place again and never let anyone get close to himself again.
Severus took a deep breath. His heavy erection was pressing against the fabric of his pants, causing him pain. He tried to control himself for a moment, but it was impossible. Just let Potter walk through that door... let him appear here, as trembling and insatiable as when he left him in the bathroom... and Severus will prove to him just how spontaneous he can be. He'll spontaneously slam him into that door and-
The chamber glowed crimson as he heard footsteps. The doorknob moved and Severus only had time to notice the green, widening eyes, wet, trembling lips, and his own hands reaching out for Potter and grasping him predatorily before everything was drowned in red and fire, and a thick fog that enveloped everything and through which two silhouettes pressed together were visible. The sound of the hips slamming frantically against the bare buttocks was mixed with the loud moans and heavy panting.
However, at some point, from among these sounds, a whisper, hoarse from screams, emerged:
"Severus... I am... only yours."
And then everything was flooded with light.
Wake up, you stupid boy! Your cauldron is about to explode!
Potter opened his eyes, roused from half-sleep, and at the last moment managed to reduce the fire under the cauldron, which was already on the verge of explosion.
Severus narrowed his eyes as he watched the boy reach into his pocket and read the message.
He shouldn't have warned him. Potter should suffer the consequences of his recklessness and carelessness, but-
Well, yes, but-
The boy raised his head, looked at Severus, gave him a slight nod and immediately looked away.
-but Potter has been acting... differently lately. He looked at him in a completely different way, avoided contact, even tried not to notice him at all. He was absent in thought. There was tension in his every gesture.
Potter had never been able to hide his feelings. Severus had always been able to easily read every, even the smallest, change in his face... and right now, every time the boy looked at him... he could see a dark shadow framing his face... and his premonition was getting worse and worse.
When he looked at Potter's hunched shoulders, his downcast face and scared look... he knew he couldn't wait for what was bothering him to develop and poison his mind even more. He must find out the truth before it's too late.
And he found out.
He saw it in Potter's mind. The dream where Severus betrayed him. He saw fear and doubt. He saw them wrap around the boy's mind, pulling him away.
He couldn't let that happen.
He controlled his own tumbling emotions so as not to damage Potter's mind and with surgical precision removed the dream from him, knowing that it would also eliminate any inappropriate thoughts that concerned him, and instead replaced it with a simple, banal nightmare.
He carefully withdrew from his mind and watched as consciousness slowly returned to him. Potter's empty, foggy eyes filled with light. The boy blinked.
That was enough. Severus released his trapped emotions.
"What happened..." Potter started, but the man didn't let him finish. He grabbed him by the arm, dragged him out of the living room, then to the door leading to the hall and threw him out.
"I told you I'm busy, Potter. Your detention won't be held today," he growled, slamming the door in his face and then turned around and leaned his back against the wooden surface. Pitch-black ichor flowed down the walls of the office, flooded the floor and crawled up to the ceiling, turning off all the lights in the room along the way.
Severus' face looked as if it had been carved from granite, sharp, with jagged features and narrowed, darkened black eyes, staring at the floor. He seemed to be barely able to breathe, unable to shake the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.
Why? How did Potter come to have such a dream? At what point did he make a mistake? Why did the boy start to doubt? Why did he start to walk away?
The black goo had almost flowed to Severus' shoes, was almost crawling onto his cloak...
He needs a drink!
He moved forward, wading ankle-deep in dark mud. He ran into the living room, went to the bar, took out a bottle of amber liquid and poured himself a whole glass, which he drank in one gulp. He filled the second one and leaned against the counter, looking straight ahead with unseeing eyes.
He can't let him do that. He won't let him go away. Never. He will give him what the boy wants. Sensitivity. More interest. Something that will make him stay...
The oppression has increased. Severus drank a second glass, but the alcohol didn't help. It only made his gaze wander.
He must make Potter look at him like that again... like before. And never draw away from him again... Never.
Severus' fingers tightened around the glass as he remembered the look in Potter's eyes... flustered, scared, distrustful... those same eyes that had always looked at him with desire, devotion... even that damned audacity...
The glass flew across the room and shattered against the wall with a loud clang.
Two days have passed. Potter showed up at the next detention with an armful of books, which thwarted Severus' plans. He was a bit surprised. For the first time, the boy focused on studying, not him. And he even tried to hold a conversation with him at a level suitable for Severus, which was astonishing, considering how much knowledge he had to acquire to do so. And yet, when Severus had asked him to talk about the blood of Erumpents the other day, only wanted to point out his lack of education. He didn't expect that Potter would take it to heart so much that he would come to the next meeting better prepared than for any Potions exam in all his years at Hogwarts. It was... unexpected.
But it made Severus decide to postpone Monday's detention, which actually didn't take place at all, until Friday. He couldn't wait until next Monday. That would be too long. He's already... shown patience.
He had plans for the boy... very specific plans. And he didn't care that Potter had a game on Saturday. This time, nothing will thwart him. Potter would be his again. He will look at him the same way as before...
This thought swirled in his head for the next two days. He couldn't get rid of it. Whatever he was doing, it was still at the bottom of his mind, determining his every step and whispering in his ear: "Soon he will be yours again..."
Friday evening finally came. Severus sat in the armchair, unconsciously drumming his fingers on the armrest and staring at the slowly moving clock hand.
Ten more minutes. Potter will be here in less than ten minutes...
And once he enters... he won't even let him take a breath before he plunges his hands, his mouth, and his cock into him...
Where will he take him? At the door like the last time? No, that would show too much impatience... The boy must come to him himself.
On the floor? He could cup his hands over those smooth buttocks, spreading them to give him the most perfect view, and then watch his cock slide into that tight little ass, sink into the red, throbbing depths, and watch Potter whimper as he scratches the floor with his nails...
No, as tempting as this vision seemed, it wouldn't help him take another step in the direction he wanted.
Maybe here, on the armchair? He could watch Potter move on top of him, rubbing his hips in circles on his lap... he could watch his face at the height of his ecstasy... he could see that moment again... the moment when everything drained from his face, leaving only pure, fulfillment radiating from it... the mouth opened from screaming, the black fringe stuck to the sweat-drenched forehead, the eyes clenched shut, twitching under the eyelids... In this one and only moment, Potter changed. He was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived or a wayward seventeen-year-old... he was a Perfection.
Severus blinked and quickly adjusted his robe, covering the erection pressing against the fabric of his pants. He glanced at the clock again and at the same moment he heard... the distant sound of the door opening.
The air was filled with the red and heat of the flames, and thin lips stretched into a faint smile. However, he managed to hide it before the doors to the chambers opened and Potter walked in, clutching... a few textbooks in his hands.
The flames immediately extinguished, replaced by darkness creeping onto the walls, smelling of cold disappointment and frosty anger, trailing behind it like the tail of a comet.
The air seemed to hiss. There was nothing visible except steaming, ember-filled red. It seeped through the skin, the trapped breath, and flowed into the mouth. It filled the entire space, bringing with it a series of different sounds.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
It was like the sound of a heart beating madly. And... there were also the breaths. Two mingling breaths, shallow and almost greedy. And... the moans. Echoing, penetrating each other and creating a whole riot of the sounds of fulfillment.
The radiant, moist skin, gliding under his fingers. The hot breath tickling his neck. The sweet, sickly scent of disheveled hair, mixed with the scent of thirsty skin. The choking fumes of moans and that tiny body, tightening and shaking with each thrust.
He was inside him. With quick, fluid movements, he made his way through the muscles tightening around his cock, tasting that warm, smooth skin with his lips. Potter was everywhere. He felt him with every sense, every breath, every thrust. His taut body rose and fell, giving him so much pleasure... He couldn't remember he ever felt something so-
And those green, wide eyes... hazy, in the agony of pleasure, trapped behind the round glasses, now fogged up and slightly askew. And... an intoxicated, hoarse whisper:
"You drive me… crazy..."
Yes, sweet Merlin, yes!
He wanted to tell him: Yes, only I can do this. Only I can tame you, enslave you, keep you coming back for more and more... and then - unconscious with pleasure - you will drip these sweet assurances into my ears, which will make me even harder and make me fuck you even harder, to get another confession out of you...
Crazy? Indeed, one could say that this is what we become...
He reached for the glasses, taking them off Harry's nose. Wanting to see those eyes in all their glory, not behind the pieces of fogged glass. He had too see them. He had to see that burning desire directed at him. Only at him. Touch it...
He grabbed Harry's face and pulled him closer, stroking his dark hair. He felt the soft strands slip through his fingers. He saw Harry's eyelids close like curtains, separating Severus from what he wanted to see. But he knew it was still there - something he had never seen in any other eyes before.
He leaned down and kissed those eyelids. The glowing red flickered, turning into a warm white, but at the same moment everything was drowned in an explosion, shooting sparks and hissing flames. And when the veil of the heat fell, it revealed two exhausted, relaxed figures, pressed together like wax figures melted together. Severus' hand stroked Harry's back.
A long moment passed before the man opened his eyes. But the satisfaction that burned within them slowly began to give way to something cold and dark that crept over them like a shadow, obscuring the glow that emanated from them, because for the first time... for the first time - the thought of the boy having to die - has become so... disturbing.
Hell, was he really starting to go crazy?
No. Certainly not.
He forced the cold to grow within him, to smother the fire, covering it with ice and turning it into poisonous fumes that enveloped his mind, calming it and directing it...
He can't allow himself to think like that. He can't let anything distract him from his goal... The boy isn't important after all. The most important thing is to get rid of the Dark Lord. Once and for all.
A triumphant smile appeared on thin lips.
And he will be the one to do it.
The room was small. It were filled with the smell of burnt skin and the faint glow of the single torch on the wall.
A dark-haired man was tied to a chair standing in the middle of the room. Magical bonds wrapped around his bare chest and his arms were twisted behind his back. His body was covered with many wounds - the shallow cuts from which blood was still oozing, flowing down the chest and abdomen in carved paths, dark patches of burnt, wrinkled skin, surrounded by extensive redness... His face was lowered and the strands of blood-covered hair falling on it, but they were unable to hide the deep cuts running over it. The sweat flowing down his forehead and neck mixed with the dark ichor. The man was breathing heavily, staring with wide eyes at the floor, onto which he spat saliva mixed with blood from time to time.
"I advise you to cooperate," a tall man dressed in black said, stepping into the circle of light. His voice was low, deep and composed. The face was hidden behind a white, skull-like mask. The long, pale fingers tightened around the wand, and the black eyes, shining behind the mask, expressed only cold determination.
The man tied to the chair raised his head, looking at the Death Eater standing before him with contempt and hatred in his eyes.
"I won't tell you anything," he growled, spitting blood again. "You can kill me. I would rather die than contribute to your victory."
"Oh, death is a privilege reserved only for those who deserve it," Severus said, slowly walking around the chair. "I have prepared completely different attractions for you. Everything you've experienced so far has only been a warm-up." He stood behind the chair, leaned into the man's ear and said in a frosty whisper: "A very long night is waiting for you. You will die in the greatest agony. You will experience suffering that you cannot even imagine. You will be dreaming of death, begging for it, but you will not receive it. I can keep you alive as long as I want. You'll watch your skin peel off in flakes and your bones snap like matchsticks and tear your muscles out..." He heard the man hold his breath. He could almost feel his gut-wrenching terror. He straightened up and moved on. "But you can avoid it. All you need to do is translate these few sentences for me-" He pointed to a book lying on a small table in the corner "-and you will be free."
He stopped in front of the man, looking down at his trembling lips and pale cheeks. Severus could feel the fear emanating from him, but there was also something else there... hate.
The man raised his head and... spat on his robe.
"Fuck you," he rasped.
The black eyes narrowed, flashing with ice.
Many times he wondered why so many fools considered the fierce stubbornness a sign of courage... when it brought them nothing but suffering and death?
"Lacrima!"
An almost animalistic scream filled the air. The man's body convulsed uncontrollably, throwing him on the chair with such force that he almost knocked it to the floor. The reddened skin surrounding one of the dark spots began to peel away, exposing muscles and nerves.
And suddenly everything went silent. The body went limp and the man's head fell forward.
Severus lowered his hand. The tension in his eyes faded. The fingers tightened around the wand loosened slightly.
For a moment he simply stared at the unconscious man, considering his next move.
He was tough. Tougher than he expected. He feared that the tortures wouldn't do much in his case, and he couldn't overdo it, lest it mutilate the man's mind too much, as it had done with the Longbottoms. He needed his knowledge and skills. And neither Imperius nor Legilimens Evocis could provide him with them at the same time. Not even Veritaserum, which was too much of a stupor for something as complicated as reading runes.
No, he will have to play a different card.
He reached into his robe pocket and took out a small bottle. He grabbed the man by the hair, tilted his head back, squeezed his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and poured some liquid into his mouth.
He stepped back as the man choked, his eyes widening and he suddenly leaned forward, spitting out red and green goo.
"Interesting spell, isn't it?" Severus asked when the man had finished choking and spitting. "What if I used it on your wife and children? I wonder if they would last longer than you...?"
The man lifted his head, looking at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Don't you dare touch them. If you try, then-"
It's amazing how people who no longer have any influence on anything can still delude themselves that they have any control over the situation...
"Your son graduated from Hogwarts last year, right? And he plans to become a researcher of exotic magical animals. What a waste it would be if he never had a chance to make his dreams come true..." Severus whispered, looking the man straight in the eyes. "And the daughter... she's only ten years old, right? Only in a year will she be able to go to her dream school. What if someone took away her chance to choose her first wand? What if she never got to board the Hogwarts Express and you never got to wave her goodbye? What would your wife do after losing both children? What do you think? Maybe she would take her own life?"
"Stop it..." A pitiful moan escaped the man's trembling lips.
Severus' eyes flashed venomously.
Love. The greatest weakness of this world. It can bring even the toughest person to ruin...
"The book!" he ordered, pointing to the table.
The man closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded.
"Smart decision," Snape said, removing the magical bonds with his wand. "But remember, if you try to lie to me... I'll know about it."
With the knowledge he had gained, he could finally go further. There were only a few ingredients left for him to obtain, but some of them required setting off the web of contacts again. And he began to wonder more and more seriously whether he would be able to finish the potion before Potter came up with another spectacular way of killing himself; or rather, miraculously avoiding the death.
It was enough for him to leave him just for a moment... for one short moment. But what did he expect from him? After all, he was the most nosy, the most reckless and the most unimaginative case in the entire school. Severus expressly forbade him to touch anything, but of course he did it anyway. He wouldn't be Potter if he didn't do it, and he, Severus, should have known it would end like this. Potter had an absolute talent for attracting trouble and he shouldn't have been left alone even for a second.
He still remembered the beating of his heart as he ran down the hall... and the feeling of... falling, when he opened the door and saw Potter lying on the floor... and the feeling of everything around him drowning in a sea of ice and his body filling with paralyzing darkness… until Potter started breathing again.
And now he was sleeping on his lap, and Severus wondered how it had happened... because for a while he had wanted to snap his neck for what a thoughtless, infuriating blighter he could be. But later Potter simply came to him for detention and... stayed.
Severus looked away from the book he was reading and spread his legs a little, already numb from the boy's weight, trying to find a more comfortable position and at the same time trying not to wake him up, but then an interesting moan escaped Potter's lips.
"Oooh... Severus..."
The man looked at Harry's face, flushed with sleep. The boy was still sleeping, his arms wrapped around his neck and his head buried in his collarbone. He was clearly dreaming about something pleasant, because every now and then a sleepy groan or grunt escaped from his parted, breathing heavily lips.
The man smiled to himself and returned to reading, but after a while a series of indistinct words came out of Harry's mouth, which Severus managed to understand as:
"I'm the Chosen One... And I can fuck whoever I want, whenever I want... Even at the damn match! I've already caught the snitch, and now... I just want to... oooh... Severus..."
The man's eyebrows shot up.
Well, well... Potter surprised him once again. He didn't think his fantasies could be so indecent... He himself had all kinds of fetishes and perversions, but having sex during a Quidditch match? Potter was apparently even more depraved and promiscuous than he thought... What a pleasant surprise...
The control.
He was always proud of it. He was always able to control his reactions under all circumstances, except when he deliberately gave up control and allowed his reactions to take control of him. Though lately that statement had needed redefining: He was always able to control his reactions under all circumstances, except when Potter was around...
Sometimes he wondered at what moment the boy became so recklessly promiscuous that even during lessons he would create his unsatisfied childhood visions... which almost led to disaster.
But after the lesson he punished him accordingly.
He still remembered the green eyes looking up at him and the lips that were red from rubbing... and the soft strands of hair that he clutched in his hands while his cock forced its way into that hot, wet mouth... that he fucked with the same abandon he had fucked Potter's ass, except this was a whole new level of pleasure... especially that moment when the tip of his cock pressed deep into the boy's throat, filling his eyes with tears and Severus' loins with molten lava... and when he pulled his head even closer, so close he could feel Potter's hair tickling his lower abdomen and his teeth teasing the shaft of his erection... and when he had complete control over him, holding his head in an iron grip and repeatedly smacking his lips that had said many disturbing things too often... things like "I'm sorry", "be there for me", "I miss you", "please don't be mad at me"... and don't let them whisper something like that again-
"I'm glad I was able to give you pleasure, Severus."
-because the sparks that appeared within him at those moments always drowned out the earlier pleasure... and were always followed by a coldness.
The sharp sound of a quill scratching over the parchment resounded in the silence of the living room. A small table was covered with books and rolls of parchment, between which there was a glass of amber liquid and two inks: red and black. Every now and then Severus stopped working to reach for a glass and take a sip of alcohol. After a while, he found himself glancing more and more often toward the shelf where he kept the latest issues of the Daily Prophet. After one of these prolonged glances, he quickly recovered and leaned over the parchment again, muttering to himself:
"No, it's out of the question!"
He returned to writing, but his thoughts were on completely different tracks.
He couldn't help but notice that Potter had been... actually trying hard lately. He wrote his best essay in six years of study, and yet he had never before shown the slightest interest in Potions. He also voluntarily acquired advanced knowledge of Potions theory just to show that he could become a conversation partner for Severus, even if he made a few mistakes. And he did it all for him...
His gaze moved toward the shelf again.
This is absurd!
The squeaking of the quill increased. He pressed it so hard against the parchment that it seemed like he was trying to punish it for something.
He worked with concentration for some time, but at some point his hand stopped and his gaze once again wandered toward the shelf. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his gaze was like a hail cloud.
I must be out of my mind... - he thought, throwing away the quill. He got up from the chair and - guided by some incomprehensible force - moved toward the shelves. He quickly searched through the issues, selecting one, unfolding it and looking at the large, several-page supplement titled: "The Quidditch Week."
Harry was sitting in a black armchair, his legs were slung over the armrest, his arms behind his head, and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. There was a happy smile on his lips and the mischievous sparks in his eyes.
"I can already see the headlines," he said, lost in imagination. "Harry Potter - The Boy Who Masturbated In Class, The Golden Boy Not So Golden Anymore. Hahaha. I can already imagine the comments: 'I always knew there was something wrong with that boy,' Rita Skeeter told us. 'I warned you all, but no one listened to me! He could have been doing this for a long time! Who knows how many innocent minds he has corrupted?!' We received an avalanche of comments from parents outraged by this incident: 'My son goes to school with this pervert!', 'Please lock him up in Saint Mungo's immediately! He is dangerous to those around him! Maybe they will cure his disease there...', 'Who knows what other perversions he hides behind the façade of a normal, healthy boy, the hero of the wizarding world?' Unfortunately, the minister declined to comment. So we asked the Headmaster of Hogwarts about his position on the matter, but the only statement we received was: 'Oh, that's a serious problem indeed. Would you like some lemon drops?'" he finished, bursting into laughter.
Something strange was happening to Severus.
He was laughing.
He tried to control himself, but he couldn't. So he covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide it at all costs, or at least camouflage it.
Unbelievable. This brat really made him laugh... The feeling was... foreign. Distant. Almost forgotten... and disturbingly pleasant. It was like a tickling warmth, no matter how idiotic that term sounded.
Feeling Potter's surprised gaze on him, he finally managed to control himself and face this sudden surge of emotional sensations, but the boy still looked at him as if he had seen at least a Norwegian Ridgeback jumping and wagging its tail. At least he had the sense not to comment on it. Anyway, if he would only try...
"That would be a really... interesting article," Snape finally said, catching his choked breath.
What an impossible brat!
There was heat in the air. It was waving and swirling, forming scarlet streaks.
Severus released the red, wet nipple from his mouth and leaned back, looking at his work, then looking up at the staring green eyes, shining like in fever, and the mouth open with moans. He liked it when Potter looked the way he did right now. With blushing cheeks and crooked glasses. Hot, submissive, focused only on him...
He smiled darkly and at the same moment he felt warm hands cupping his face. Before he could react, he saw Potter's face approaching, his eyelids closing, his lips parting...
At the last moment, he managed to turn his head and move away. The heat dissipated like fog, replaced by cold and encroaching darkness.
He tried again...again! What the hell was this boy thinking?
His eyes dark with anger, he turned his head back, opening his mouth to rant, but then he saw the look on Potter's face...
So terribly disappointed... defeated... closed.
Damn, it hurt him...
"I-I... have to go," the boy muttered quietly.
Severus pursed his lips as he watched Potter slide off his lap and, with a vague "good night," almost run out of the living room. When the echo of the door slamming had faded away, Severus turned his head toward the fireplace.
Hasn't he learned anything? After all, he had long ago made it clear that a kiss was a certain barrier, a line that Severus never crossed. And he certainly wasn't going to do it now. It was too intimate. It required... commitment.
Potter had no right to demand this. He had no right to put him in this situation. An impulsive, selfish little brat who never thinks about the consequences! He wasn't aware of the danger, he didn't understand that allowing this to happen might result in... loss of control.
You can dip your hands into the stream to draw water and quench your thirst, but if you lean too far to touch the surface of the water with your lips... you can easily lose your balance, fall into the treacherous depths and drown. It was too big a risk, and Severus couldn't afford it. The stakes were too high.
And the boy will have to come to terms with it, whether he likes it or not.
Severus' gaze returned to the door.
Damn him!
He quickly jumped up from the armchair, grabbed the Invisibility Cloak the boy had left on the black armchair and ran out the door.
It was a good decision. If he hadn't done that... if he hadn't followed him... the boy could have hurt himself even more. The moment he saw his scarred hands... he realized how... fragile Potter was. How dependent he had become on him, adapting his happiness to his relationship with Severus. And how much this thought... disturbed him.
That's why he pushed it aside, devoting his thoughts to training with Nott. The boy wasn't as talented as Malfoy or Zabini, whom he had trained some time ago, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in commitment. It's a pity, however, that he wasted his power on senseless murder of animals, feeding his darkness with mediocrity, without purpose, without finesse and without control. But since his father insisted that Severus should teach his son all the most brutal spells, he couldn't refuse, especially since this way the boy could satisfy his insatiable, youthful and unproductive bloodlust without getting himself or Severus into trouble.
But of course that didn't apply to Potter, who could often be a big trouble himself. When the boy burst into his office, screaming like a madman that Severus was cheating on him with Nott - even though the idea was so absurd that only a lunatic could come up with such a thing - trashing his office and almost losing his breath at the thought that Severus could touch anyone, anyone but him... the feeling that filled Severus in that moment was... unusual. Potter's jealousy was so destructive, so biting, so devastating... that - like a lava-filled projectile - it shot straight into his erection, filling him with such hunger that he would be unable to function unless he satisfied it... unless he proved to the unpredictable kid how much he desires him... and that he is the only person who gives him so much pleasure...
"There is... only... you... Potter..."
As he said those words… as he dove into him, into his trembling body, into his greedy gaze… the pleasure was so strong it almost killed him.
But when it was all over... when they both lay in each other's embrace, trying to regain their breath and their senses... Potter did it again. He said again the words that Severus didn't want to hear-
"There is only me. And I will always be here."
-drawing the darkness back. And the coldness.
Severus hated Christmas. He considered it to be the most unproductive holiday in existence, serving only uncontrolled gluttony, spending hundreds of galleons on items that were of no use to anyone, pretending to be kind to the entire world, decorating every possible surface with tacky, terrible decorations, and spending time with people, which you didn't feel like meeting at all. The singing baubles, the twinkling lights, the bows sparkling in his eyes and the smiling faces haunting him from all sides made him feel indigestion. And Dumbledore's annual Christmas speech, which the Headmaster will probably torment them this year again, was the culmination of the whole circus.
The only good thing about this mess was that the castle would be empty for ten days, giving him a break from all the rowdy kids and most of the faculty. And maybe he would have even endured this period, if not for one irritating detail - or rather, a certain intrusive thought that was bothering him - Potter.
He wondered for a long time what to do with the boy and he finally decided: he couldn't let him leave. Potter loved to attract trouble, and that meant Severus had to keep an eye on him at all times. So the boy should definitely stay in the castle, even if it meant completely destroying Severus' annual ritual of spending this pitiable holiday with his potions, some interesting reading material and the many bottles of his favorite whiskey...
That was why he was walking toward Dumbledore's office, weaving through students rushing in all directions. He had to talk to the director and convince him to accept his idea.
And then Severus noticed him - among the crowd of students filling the corridor, he noticed the black, disheveled hair, the oversized, wrinkled uniform, and the sloppily tied tie. Potter was walking slowly, deep in conversation, surrounded as always by his friends. There was a wide smile on his face.
At the same moment, the corridor plunged into darkness, covering everyone in shadow. The only light fell on the tiny figure, on his smiling face and the green eyes hidden behind the glasses. All the other students became insignificant shadows, barely visible in the darkness. Severus slowed his pace, never taking his eyes off the boy.
And when they were almost passing each other, Potter suddenly looked away from his friends and looked straight at him. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, then he quickly looked away, a goofy smile spreading across his lips. The corridor lit up red for a moment as Severus got past him and turned his head after him, staring at the retreating figure.
Really, will this boy never smarten?
No, he'll never smarten, Severus thought, when a few days later he found him at the door of his office, completely drunk and not even remembering how to get to his own dormitory.
Letting him attend the Christmas party turned out to be a huge mistake. Not only did Severus find him in an ambiguous situation with the redhead, but when Potter was drunk, he acted as if he didn't know what the word "restrain" meant and babbled everything that came to his mind. The alcohol definitely thinned his brain, making him completely unable to control what he said and to whom. This was how Severus found out that the pink-haired, incompetent Auror whom Dumbledore had so recklessly hired as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was having an affair with one of his students. And this information gave him the perfect opportunity to expel her from school. Someone like her couldn't conduct such responsible classes...
But first he had to take care of Potter and make sure the boy would return home safely. So he forced a sobering potion into him and watched with some cool satisfaction as the awareness of everything he thoughtlessly did and said came back to the boy and hit him with the force of an exploding cauldron.
He expected Potter to fall into his alcohol-fueled depression again, but he didn't think he would be so keen on keeping the secret he had spilled that he would even give up his beloved Quidditch if Severus kept the secret to himself. He didn't think that he would consciously be willing to be punished for his irresponsible behavior... and that he would be willing to pay the ultimate price for it. Such a mature decision didn't suit him at all...
Apparently there was a way to knock some sense into him.
Although now - when Severus was looking at Potter sitting in the chair, at his lowered head and clenched fists - a thick shadow slowly crept into his thoughts, covering the light and bringing the coldness.
"You should go back to the dormitory," the man said quietly. "It's late. If your friends aren't as drunk as you are, they may realize at any moment that you're not in bed and start looking for you.
Harry nodded and stood up.
"I'm sorry," he whispered quietly, still looking down at the floor. His voice trembled slightly. "For everything I said. And for everything I've done." He didn't raise his head to look at Severus. He simply turned around and headed for the door.
Maybe it was the shadow of sadness that couldn't leave his face, maybe the look of bitterness that curled his lips... but it was something that made Severus feel an incomprehensible need to stop him and-
"Potter," he called. Harry stopped and turned away, looking at him. The green eyes were empty. As if something had sucked any emotions out of them - the emotions that had always been there, and there were so many of them, so incredibly many... And Severus felt an overwhelming desire to fill the green eyes with them again... but he didn't. He couldn't do it. He must be consistent. Potter only had himself to blame. Severus couldn't give way to him. "Go to sleep," he finally said. "I hope you have the cloak with you?" Harry nodded and took the sparkling fabric out of his pocket. "Take the shortest route. And no stops along the way. You are to go straight to Gryffindor Tower. Did you understand?"
Harry nodded again, then turned and disappeared out the door without another word.
It became quiet.
But the silence that had accompanied Severus for as long as he could remember and that he had always appreciated... was now overwhelming him.
He walked over to the bar, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and plopped down in the armchair in front of the fireplace, setting the bottle in front of him on the table and staring into the fire.
After some time, when he was finishing his third glass, he was interrupted from his reverie by the striking of the clock. Once again he involuntarily reached into his pocket, tightening his hand on the stone.
He was still cool.
Potter should've gone to sleep by now. It's been too long. He should have sent him a message a long time ago...
The lights in the living room flickered, a fog of anxiety slowly descended over the entire room.
At first, Potter's goodnight wishes irritated him. But after some time he got used to them, and even more... he began to unconsciously expect them. Every evening. And now that he didn't receive that message... he instinctively knew something was wrong.
Maybe he shouldn't have let him go alone? Maybe Potter - instead of going to sleep - hid himself in some corner of the castle again, reliving everything he did, what he said and what he had to sacrifice? Maybe it was too much for him?
Maybe Severus should have played it a little differently?
Maybe he should check... ask... if he's okay?
He took a stone from his pocket and stared at its smooth surface for a moment.
Damn him!
Potter, why are you still awake?
It's sent. That's tough. At most, it will turn out that the boy simply forgot about him and just went to sleep. In fact, this option would suit Severus best. At least he would get rid of that gut-wrenching feeling as he was staring at that pathetic stone and staring and staring and-
-and finally the stone lit up, along with the entire living room.
I can't sleep. I'll sit in the Common Room and go to bed a little later. Good night.
Instead of the expected clearing, the fog became even thicker, obscuring almost every source of light in the room.
Severus didn't hesitate. He jumped up from his chair abruptly, and a moment later he was walking down the hall, with his long, purposeful strides as each torch he passed by dimmed for a moment, swallowed up by the darkness that rose behind him like the tail of a comet.
There was a storm in his eyes, his face was a mask made of shadows and lightning.
After a few minutes, he found himself at the top of the eastern tower. He growled the password and entered the Gryffindor Common Room.
He saw him. Potter was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, his face in his hands and his shoulders hunched. He resembled someone whose world had irreversibly collapsed.
The darkness deepened, filling the air with coldness.
Severus took a few steps toward the couch and heard his own voice, which sounded as if his throat had been filled with a thousand needles.
"Potter?"
He saw Harry jerk his head up and turn it around, looking straight at him, then jump up from the couch and trip over the table, almost falling over.
"I... What are you doing here...? What happened...? I don't-" he said in a terrified voice.
Well, Potter had never been very eloquent, but certain situations could almost completely deprive him of the ability to speak...
When the boy finally regained his balance, he immediately lowered his head and looked somewhere at the carpet under Severus' feet. Before the man pulled out his wand to at least partially conceal his presence in this place, he took a closer look at the boy's hands and knees, but he didn't see any wounds or signs of self-destruction on them. The feeling of ice creeping through his veins subsided slightly.
He quickly cast a few concealment charms and put away his wand, looking at Potter's bowed head and his messy hair.
He licked his lips.
What exactly brought him here? He thought he knew, but now that Potter was standing right in front of him, with those clenched, trembling fists and his body tense like a string, as if he was waiting for another whiplash or something equally unpleasant... he wasn't sure anymore.
"Potter..." he began, his voice sounding unusually loud in the silence surrounding them. "I know you wouldn't be yourself if you hadn't ignored my command, but in this situation..." No. He should try to be more... gentle. "I have something important to tell you and I would like you to listen to me carefully," he continued, trying to keep his voice quieter and calmer. Potter still wasn't looking at him and... it was starting to annoy him. What was he so afraid of? He came here to... damn it! "And I advise you to stop staring at this unspeakably interesting pattern on the carpet and look at me when I'm talking to you."
The boy visibly flinched, but did not raise his head. Severus felt a surge of irritation.
Why didn't Potter want to look at him? If it was just a stubborn, childish kind of rebellion, Severus would have had no problem dealing with it, but he sensed something much stronger... something so incredibly strong that it was seeping into him as well... bringing with it- filling him with- making him feel-
"Don't make me say it again," he ordered sharply.
Then Potter looked up, and Severus saw it. He saw traces of the tears on the pale cheeks and swollen, red eyes...
Everything disappeared. It was drowned in suffocating darkness and deafening noise, filled with multiplied, booming beats... the beats that were shaking the entire space... and the sound of a falling rubble and a cracking wall - a wall through which something was seeping, breaking... something, what brought pain.
But before Severus could stop it, it spread through his veins like a poison, taking over him and almost ruining him.
He took a deep breath, rising to the surface and letting the thin threads of composure wrap around his mind and body again, pulling him from the lake of green in which he had almost drowned. Now he could only see the eyes staring at him, hidden behind the glasses.
The danger has passed.
But how could he even let that happen? He just came here to tell him he changed his mind. And he's going to do it, and then he'll just leave and never think about it again.
It was just a momentary weakness. Nothing more.
Nothing.
"I wish you all perseverance and courage on the winding paths of life, full of obstacles and difficult choices, but know that you will always find your way if you only follow the light of love." All the teachers and students who stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, gathered around one table, staring at Dumbledore as he was giving his Christmas speech, smiling slightly. Only Snape looked at him gloomily. "I also wish that this holiday will change something in your life, so that you can experience it with joy and a smile on your face." Dumbledore glanced at the sour Snape, and his eyes twinkled. "And I hope that we will also meet here next year, regardless of what may happen in the meantime."
At the same moment, Snape frowned, looked away and stopped at the candle burning in the candlestick.
Oh, a lot was going to happen, Severus thought. The Dark Lord would be dead and finally out of his life, once and for all. And if he's lucky, he'll get rid of that old fool, too...
And Potter...
The candle flickered and went out. It got darker. And cooler.
Potter will die too... he will die... and Severus will never see him again... never again.
It took all his willpower to push that thought away - a thought that now, in this one moment, seemed so... unimaginable.
Potter came to him right after Christmas dinner, bringing with him a whole bag of garbage that he considered the Christmas decorations. Severus only agreed to leave the small, colorful Christmas tree that now stood in the middle of the table in his living room, because apparently the boy wouldn't survive if he didn't have at least one thing that would remind him that it was Christmas. As if it wasn't visible throughout the castle. After all, all you had to do was set foot outside Severus' office to be surrounded by all this madness. The boy didn't have to drag it to his chambers as well.
But apparently Potter didn't need much to be happy, since all he needed was a small decorative tree that he could look at every now and then and smile.
And that Severus could look at it as well. At him.
The joy on his face as he was drinking the butterbeer... and the way he looked at the glass ball... and the thought that it was he, Severus, who brought him this joy seemed so... surreal.
But, despite himself... he developed a taste for it.
And he wanted more.
The air was rippling, filled with the heat and the loud heartbeats. The entire room was filled with fog that distorted everything around it, plunging the entire living room into a crimson darkness in which nothing could be seen except for a glowing creature, vibrant with its own light, sitting on Snape's lap in a blood-red shirt, his mouth open, gasping for air, and his hot erection, throbbing in Severus's clenched hand.
"Well, well, we can't let you come too quickly..." the man whispered hoarsely, trying to put a biting mark into his voice to cover up the impatience bubbling in him and tame the hunger he felt as he looked at the boy.
But he wasn't going to rush it. He wanted to take care of him properly, he wanted to stoke this desire slowly, watch it burn and grow bigger and bigger, making Potter whimper and whimper endlessly, so that Severus could enjoy this sight and these emotions pouring out of the boy as long as possible.
He grabbed his black tie, slowly pulling it down and loosening it enough to pull it over the boy's head. He threw it to the floor and, without taking his eyes off the lust-glazed eyes hidden behind the steamy glasses, he reached for the buttons of the shirt, slowly unbuttoning them one by one and taking in every inch of the fair skin emerging from under the clothes, until he finally reached the last button and could move the fabric aside, like a curtain hiding the desired view from his eyes - a view he could admire for hours. Two dark warts against the background of the fair, flawless skin, free of scars and blemishes, a small, slim, boyish frame, so vividly reminding him that he was still... just a seventeen-year-old boy. A seventeen-year-old boy who needed a Master, needed an authority, needed a strong hand that would take his breath away and shake his world. But slowly it turned out that Severus' world was also starting to shake...
With an impatient movement, he pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to his elbows and hang there, and at the last moment he resisted the urge to lunge at him and just devour him. Entire of him. Savoring every bite. Taste his youth and this limitless devotion until he's satisfied his hunger enough to not want him again just a few hours later.
But instead he just raised his hand, touching the smooth skin of the boy's neck with his fingers and hearing a soft sigh escape from Potter's lips. Harry tilted his head back, giving him full access, and Severus eagerly took advantage of it, running his hands over Harry's neck, shoulders, collarbone, chest. He was so warm. Always so warm... Severus ran his fingers over that glowing skin, knowing that every, even the smallest fragment... belonged only to him. Only he had the right to touch him. Only he could warm his cool hands with his heat. He was the only one who had Potter. Only he could caress him, could feel every crevice of his body under his fingers and try to remember them, along with his sweet scent, heating warmth and heavy, groaning breath, so that he could replay them in the dark of the night later on.
So it could illuminate his darkness...
Everything disappeared, shrouded in a sticky, heavy, crimson fog, with only the sounds coming from it. The groans, the guttural growls like a hungry animal feeding, the rapid heartbeat, the long sighs, the mingled breaths and the thick, gut-wrenching thirst seeping through everything.
And finally, out of all the flood, a face emerged - a face with wide open green eyes filled with the fire of orgasm and a slender, arched body jiggling in his lap to the rhythm of the waves of pleasure flowing through him.
And he could once again watch as absolutely everything drained from that face and only pure pleasure remained, so strong that it looked like it was hurting him; as the black strands of hair fall on his sweaty forehead, and quivering tears appear in the corners of his eyes; how his hips keep jerking, shooting out the last drops of semen; how his mouth, open from screaming, fall silent and only a satisfied groan comes out.
So perfect... so damn perfect.
Severus frantically absorbed this sight, waiting... because he knew that in a moment, in just a few seconds, the best would come.
Oh yes, right now!
That wonderfully blissful look on his face, the unconscious smile and the eyes glowing with the light of satisfaction... he saw it all before Harry froze and collapsed against him with a sigh, snuggling into his robes.
Now that Potter was satisfied, Severus could finally feed himself...
Severus lay on his back for a moment, staring at the ceiling and trying to steady his breathing. He could hear Harry's heavy breathing next to him. He slowly turned his head and looked at him. The boy was lying with his back to him, with his legs curled up. His fair skin was glistening with sweat. The exhausted muscles trembled. He could see its protruding shoulder blades and the long line of the spine that ran all the way to the small of its back. He looked lower, at the white, thick liquid flowing from between the buttocks, settling on the black bedding.
So stained... so tainted.
No. This is not what him should look like. He should glow. He should shine.
Severus reached for his wand and whispered a cleaning charm almost silently. The sharp, irritating smell of sweat and sex disappeared, along with the cum.
The man raised himself on his elbow and looked at Harry lying next to him. His body was almost striking in its brightness against the black bedding. This sight seemed so... unreal to Severus. He wasn't used to this. To someone's presence in his bedroom. But Potter was here. In his bed. Warmed and satisfied, by his side. And Severus couldn't take his eyes off him as he moved closer, reached out and touched the dark hair scattered on the sheets.
At the same moment, the air became warmer and filled with light.
A strange mist clouded Severus's eyes as he stroked the black, damp locks that slid softly between his fingers and listened to Harry's raspy breathing slowly calming down. He ran his fingers over the smooth, hot face, stroking the boy's cheek and temple. The scent of vanilla and chocolate in the air seemed even more intense than usual. Involuntarily, he moved his face closer to Harry's neck, nuzzling the disheveled hair and inhaling deeply the incredible scent.
The room rippled slightly and was filled with loud, increasingly faster heartbeats, echoing throughout the bedroom.
He felt the heat radiating from the naked body. The warmth that seemed to seep through his skin into his core and melt something that should have been frozen forever. Something in the farthest corner of his mind was screaming. It was screaming at him to calm down, to back away, to get up and leave like he always did, to not let him, not to let anything keep him there. To nip in the bud every single spark that could nest unnoticed in his soul.
But... he was too stunned at the moment to hear those distant screams.
It's just one evening. Only one. Nothing will happen - he thought, listening to the increasingly deeper, calmer breathing right next to him.
The boy seemed to be falling asleep. In his bed...
Sobering up has come.
Severus pulled his face back from the boy's neck and frowned.
He shouldn't let him sleep here. Potter must return to the dormitory.
The man closed his eyes and pursed his lips. After a while, the room became colder, the fog slowly lifted, and the red disappeared, replaced by a damp darkness. When Severus opened his eyes, there was no trace of any emotion in them. Only unshakable coldness. He removed his hand and moved away.
"It's late. You have to go back."
When Severus returned from the bathroom, Potter not only didn't get up, get dressed and get ready to go, but... fell asleep in his bed. He tried to wake him up, but the boy seemed so exhausted after sex that he didn't make any contact at all.
So he let him stay. Just this once. But in the morning he will throw him away immediately. Don't let Potter think this is some damn hotel.
However, he was unable to wait until morning because he was woken up by the screams during the night.
Potter was having a nightmare. A nightmare in which - as Severus guessed - the boy saw his death. Inflicted most likely by the Dark Lord. He tried to calm him down, but Potter was so distraught that he jumped out of bed and run to the bathroom.
He didn't leave, definitely for way too long. And remembering the look on his face, on which terror and despair had carved such deep marks that Severus could see them before his eyes long after the boy had disappeared into his hiding place... he began to worry.
Before Severus knew it, he was standing in front of the bathroom door, staring at it and waiting...
He will give him just one more minute. If Potter doesn't get out of there soon, he'll drag him out himself. Even by force.
Fortunately, he didn't have to do that.
The doorknob moved and the door opened.
Potter froze in the doorway, looking at Severus with surprise. But before he could look away, the man noticed the look in his eyes... and something inside him jerked. Violently and unpleasant.
"I'm sorry I woke you up," the boy muttered quietly, looking at the floor. "I didn't want to. We can go to sleep now."
Without lifting his head, he tried to sidestep him, but then Severus saw his own hands reach out for him and a soft whisper escape his lips.
"Come here."
He pulled him to him and held him against his chest, enveloping him in his arms and hearing the soft sigh that escaped Harry.
He didn't know what impulse made him do it. But he gave in, feeling the warmth of the slim body pressed against him, which in some surprising way... warmed him too.
There was silence for a moment. Intersected only by the steady, smooth heartbeats.
"You'll be fine... right?" he heard an uncertain question asked in a trembling voice.
Potter was afraid. About him. The very idea that anyone could be afraid about him seemed irrational to him. Unreal.
Everyone who knew him knew perfectly well that Severus could take care of himself. They simply gave him orders and expected results. No matter what. Without wondering whether he would die in the process or just gain another scar. Nobody cared. Neither did he. He learned not to worry.
But suddenly Potter appeared. With his youthful sensitivity and naive devotion. The only person who-
Severus moved and released him from his grip, taking the boy's face in his hands and lifting it. As he looked into the fear-filled green eyes, the air rippled, filling with light.
"Yes, I'll be fine. It was just a dream," he replied quietly.
"You promise?" There was desperation in the boy's voice. As if the thought of losing Severus seemed... unimaginable.
And Severus felt an uninvited thought creep into his head...
If something goes wrong and he fails to lead the boy to the Dark Lord, or fails to brew the potion... then Potter's dream will turn out to be prophetic.
The glow faded, dimmed by the approaching darkness.
All that remained was the coldness of the inevitable.
"I promise," Severus repeated, giving in to the darkness creeping up the walls and ceiling. "Your concern is touching, Potter." Snape let go of his face and straightened up. The blackness now reached his feet. "Now go back to bed. Or do you want to stand here until the morning feeling sorry for yourself?"
Harry smiled slightly.
"No," he replied.
"That's something new," the man snorted, moving away from him and turning his head away. "You love feeling sorry for yourself."
He felt the cold fingers of anger closing around his throat. He felt like they were trying to tear him apart.
Why did Potter have to make everything so complicated? Why did he have to come to him with his pathetic, unnecessary concern? Why did Severus let him stay here? He didn't need his self-pity in the middle of the night. It was worthless anyway. It brought nothing but... agitation. It only made him anxious.
The boy's eyes widened in surprise.
"I'm not feeling sorry for myself," he replied defensively. "I just had a bad dream. I told you we could go to sleep now."
"Good, because I'm tired of babysitting you," Severus replied tartly.
Anger boiled over. He was biting. He was scratching.
Potter was to blame for this. Because Severus kept losing control around him. Because he had to be the one to follow him, comfort him, and pull him back instead of just leading him. Because the boy had much more strength than he seemed to have at the beginning.
And because with his stubborn light he was reached places that should have remained in the darkness forever.
The laboratory was dark. The only light was shed by a candle standing on one of the shelves, revealing a tall figure dressed in Death Eater robes.
Severus was standing over the Pensieve, clearing his mind. He carefully wrapped all dangerous thoughts and memories on the wand and placed them among the golden ribbons. The memories swirled and bubbled to the surface, creating interpenetrating images. Potter on his lap. In his bed. Pressed against him. Masturbating. Joyful.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop lower and lower with each ribbon placed in the Pensieve. The frost settled on the shelves and bottles, just like when Dementors were near. The only part of the room that wasn't covered in frost was the Pensieve. It emanated with heat, as if it had concentrated all the heat and light sucked from the room.
Severus put his wand away and straightened up.
He was ready.
It was always painful. The Dark Lord's mind was like a blade. It burst straight through, breaking through all defenses, and leaving behind a long, tearing wound, torn and mangled. And his laughter... was like the shards of glass that stick into the brain and sting long after the laughter has worn off.
He always laughed when he looked at Severus' memories and could see in them his greatest enemy... broken, degraded, dominated... He especially loved the memory of Potter kneeling on the table in Severus' living room, bound and immobilized, whimpering in pain, while the man fucked him hard and without remorse. Yes, this was the view the Dark Lord appreciated the most, and Severus clearly felt his satisfaction.
"Perfect," he whispered as he finally left Severus' mind, leaning back in his high chair and smiling contentedly.
Severus took a moment to recover. He felt as if painfully throbbing fissures had formed in his mind where the Dark Lord had sunk his claws. He blinked several times, fighting against dizziness. After penetration, he always felt as if he had been stripped of all his protection. As if his mind had become polluted and was beginning to fester and rot from the inside, filling every crevice with a thick, encroaching darkness.
"But it seems to me that your memories have become... poorer lately," the Dark Lord continued, narrowing his eyes and glaring at Severus with a piercing gaze.
"I decided to limit my contacts with the boy to the minimum necessary. He is noisy and obtrusive. He imposes himself too much on me, which disturbs and slows down the work on the potion," Severus replied smoothly, looking straight ahead with unblinking eyes. "But if you wish, Lord, I can see him more often." As Severus said these words, a fleeting look of disgust appeared on his face.
The Dark Lord looked at him carefully for a moment, then replied:
"I leave the decision to you, Severus. The only thing that matters is that the boy won't run away from you. It doesn't matter how you do it, but when the time comes, he must follow you on his knees, obeying your every command without hesitation."
"And so it will be," Severus replied, nodding and letting his lips stretch into a sneer.
"How's your progress with the potion? Have you managed to obtain the eyes of the Banshee yet?"
"I'm working on it. I contacted one of the best ghost hunters in the UK. He should deliver them to me right after the New Year. Apparently, most of them appear on New Year's Eve, when everything dies, only to be reborn the next day."
The Dark Lord nodded in approval.
"Excellent. If any problems arise, please let me know immediately."
"Of course, my Lord." Severus bowed and at the same moment he heard a raised voice:
"Wormtail!"
The door opened and a short, trembling man slipped inside.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Bring Bellatrix and Blackwood to me."
"I'm on my way, my Lord."
It took just a few moments, and the door opened again and Bella walked in, closely followed by her tall, bulky cousin.
"You called us, my Lord?" the woman asked, bowing deeply and staring at Voldemort with adoration. Her gaze fell on Severus for a moment, and the man sensed the excited curiosity in her. The Dark Lord had informed him some time ago that he had let Bellatrix in on their plan because she had already proven to him many times that she was most loyal to him. He did this so that Severus could use her help if obtaining any of the ingredients was even more problematic than those he had managed to obtain so far.
Severus wasn't happy about this. Bellatrix's knowledge only bothered him. The woman was thoroughly amused by his task and couldn't help but remind him of it every time they met, forcing him to tell her more and more juicy details about what he was doing with Potter, and then making fun of the boy and commenting on everything in a tone dripping with disgust.
The Dark Lord looked at the three Death Eaters standing before him and stated:
"I want to discuss with you the details of the upcoming attack. I mentioned it at today's meeting. I've decided that you three will lead it."
Bellatrix let out a scream of delight and Blackwood smiled evilly. Only Severus kept a straight face.
"Hampstone needs to burn," the Dark Lord continued. "You are to cause as much destruction as possible. This is going to be a spectacular show. Kill as many of these pathetic scumbags as you can before you are detected." Voldemort's face twisted into a cruel smile. "I want the Wizarding World to remember the Christmas gift I prepared for them for a long time..."
A shadow was moving through the halls of Hogwarts. For a moment he entered the light as he passed the torches placed on the wall, only to be plunged into darkness again. A black cloak billowed behind him - a wisp of icy darkness trailing in his wake. He headed straight toward the dungeons. When he finally arrived at the door of his office, he whispered the password and went inside. He crossed the office in a few steps and soon found himself in the living room. The elves had lit a fire in the fireplace, but the moment the man entered the room, the flames died down and the air cooled.
He directed his steps toward the bar, resting his hands on the dark countertop and lowering his head. His furrowed face showed great agitation. The eyes were like crystals carved from ice, reflecting... a suffocating, almost desperate rage, and the face of the Dark Lord twisted with a nasty smile.
It still wasn't enough for him. He still wanted more memories, more and more, to revel in them, to revel in the humiliation of Potter... to make fun of him.
Severus clenched his fists. He hit the countertop with them, making a sound like the growl of a mad animal.
He could still hear his laughter in his head. The Dark Lord's and Bellatrix's. He couldn't get rid of them. It was always like that when he came back from a meeting.
Severus, if I were you, I'd sanitize my cock every time I had to stick it up that dirty brat's ass! Otherwise you might catch something from him... maybe some disgusting... feelings.
A crack appeared in the black eyes.
His body reacted on its own, throwing down all the glasses that were on the counter with unbridled fury. The sound of breaking glass filled the space.
At that same moment, Severus felt warmth in his pocket. Involuntarily, he reached for the stone and with a trembling hand brought it to his face, reading the message:
Goodnight, Severus.
For a moment he just stood there staring at the stone, not moving. After a moment, his eyelids closed and his shoulders relaxed. The fire in the fireplace flickered and the air warmed. The darkness began to recede. The laughter stopped. The biting agitation receded, replaced by an incoming, soothing calm. His hands stopped trembling. When he opened his eyes, there was no trace of the ice filling them. It melted.
The man raised his head and looked toward his laboratory. He put the stone back in his pocket and slowly moved toward the bookcase, and when it moved aside to reveal the entrance, he headed straight for the Pensieve. He stopped above it and looked at the golden strands swirling within it, feeling their heat on his face. He stretched out his hands, gripping the edge of the bowl.
He wanted to touch that heat. To feel it inside himself again. Make it flow into him like a raging river, to fill him again
And he did it. He leaned forward, plunging his face into the Pensieve and letting the whirlpool take him away.
Severus' gaze was fixed on Harry, who held the book in his hands and seemed to be completely absorbed in what he was reading. But Severus knew it was only an appearance. Because everything he was doing was just to tempt him - an open collar that revealed fair, smooth skin and invited him to sink his teeth into it; the tie sloppily crooked; the shirt wrinkled; the legs spread too wide.
So brazenly perverse... Really, what was he thinking?
Severus' gaze moved higher and higher, stopping at Potter's lips, which the boy licked from time to time.
He tempted him, shamelessly provoked him... What a malicious, insidious little brat...
Harry flipped the page and licked his lips again, biting them.
Severus stifled a groan as his pants became tight. He wanted those lips to tighten around his cock. He wanted to sink into the hot, delicious moisture and see that lustful gaze looking at him from behind the steamy glasses, making him almost cum. He wanted... to hell with it! Why wouldn't he just get up and take it?
He got up almost silently.
The flames that had been licking his feet and cloak for a long time now spread across the entire carpet, creating a forest of fire. Without taking his eyes off Harry, Severus reached for his zipper and slowly unzipped it, pulling his pale, throbbing cock out of his pants. It was so hot that it almost burned his hand and it throbbed with the need to plunge into those parted, wet lips...
As if in a trance, he moved through the forest of flames, his eyes never leaving Harry's mouth. In just a moment he would delve into them, quenching the thirst that filled him. He'd feel relieved in a moment...
As soon as he was next to Harry, he quickly grabbed the book out of Harry's hands with one hand and grabbed Harry's hair with the other, pulling his head toward his erection and watching as the green eyes widened in surprise and his lips parted... Severus gritted his teeth, stifling a moan as he watched his cock slide into that eager mouth, inch by inch, sinking deeper and deeper into the warm, mind-numbing wetness until it finally reached his throat and Potter looked up at him with his wanton gaze and at the same moment everything was drown in a sea of fire, flooding over every thought that could disturb this moment, and effectively burning it out.
He was doing it again.
He was looking at Potter sitting in the chair across from him, wondering once again, how did this happen? How did it happen that the boy spent almost every free moment in his chambers, behaving as casually as if he was in his own dormitory? How did he slowly forget what it was like to spend evenings alone? How did Potter's presence... cease irritating him? And he started accepting it? And even more... he began to... desire it.
The awareness of this chilled him, but he had to call it by its name: He lost control over all of this.
Potter occupied his thoughts too often. He let him get too close. At some point he lost his vigilance, not realizing how deep the boy had already penetrated into his world... Potter resembled water which - although it seemed weak and harmless - stubbornly and persistently carved the rock day after day. And even if no changes were visible at the first glance, one day someone might discovered that the water had already penetrated so far that it had washed away the entire shore and that it might collapse at any moment. But it's usually too late to stop it by then.
Yes. It was definitely out of control.
But the problem with Potter was that he was everywhere. And even if Severus tried to push him away, the boy always came back. He had never met anyone like him in his life. So damn... endearing. He was still amazed by his unusual sensitivity. How was it possible - that someone who was raised by Muggles, who only hated and loathed him for all his childhood; someone who didn't experience any warm feelings for most of their childhood; someone who had to fight for survival so many times, from an early age; someone whose life has hung by a thread so many times; someone whose name was known to the entire Wizarding World, which placed such a burden on his shoulders that most experienced wizards probably couldn't bear - that someone like that remained... untainted? How was it possible that he managed to retain this extraordinary emotionality? That he still shone brightly in all this omnipresent dirt? That he didn't let the darkness get to him? Anyone else in his place would have long since sunk into the darkness.
Severus had more than enough of it in himself and he was well aware of it, but he had no intention of fighting it. It was part of him. It was so deeply embedded in his soul that it would be impossible to break it out, except along with his life. He accepted it. Sometimes he let it take control of him, and then he struck and hurt, basking in it. He fed it until it was satiated and it withdrew, only to fill him with hunger again... It was always enough to keep everyone at bay... but then Potter showed up. A sixteen-year-old boy with a scar on his forehead who allowed Severus to feed on himself; who gave himself to him at will; who was taking blow after blow, feeding his darkness and... who did not leave. He kept coming back. With all his light.
It was... incomprehensible.
But it had to be ended. As soon as possible, before it was too late. Severus had to get rid of this - of the presence of Potter following him everywhere, peering out from every corner of his chambers; of that unconditional devotion; of that sickly smell that filled his nostrils every time Potter cuddled up to him; of this... weakness.
He must build a dam that will stop the water from continuing to penetrate deeper and deeper. He must cut it off; weaken it strength; reinforce crumbled walls; and not let it break through any more, because even the smallest crack, combined with the force that was pressing down on it... could turn into a hole that he won't be able to seal anymore.
Severus tilted his glass to drink the rest of the whiskey, but at that moment he heard the rustling and the footsteps approaching him. Potter was at his side in an instant. He was already reaching out to embrace him, already leaning down to sit on his lap, once again freely entering his space with his warmth and scent... but Severus was faster.
He jumped up from the chair, shrugging off the outstretched hands and pushing him away with his shoulder, then wordlessly moved towards the bar, where he grabbed a bottle and began pouring himself another drink.
"What happened?" he heard a muffled whisper behind him. "Why are you avoiding me? Why are you running away from me?"
Ice crystals appeared in the air. The man tightened his hand around the neck of the bottle.
"What nonsense are you talking about again, Potter?" he asked in as mocking a tone as he could muster. "You must have too vivid imagination because you see things that don't exist. You can shake hands with Miss Lovegood then."
There was silence for a moment. He seemed to have managed to silence him. Not for long though. He knew Potter wouldn't give up so easily, but he didn't think he would... attack. It's like discovering that a sheep has started... to bite.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?! Do you think I haven't noticed how you treat me? Do you think that I didn't notice how you avoid closeness, don't want to hug me, don't even want to look at me in a way that's not filled with mockery? Do you think I haven't noticed that everything has changed? I just don't understand why. What happened? I want you to explain it to me!"
The ice crystals turned into flames, so cold it's almost black. The darkness was creeping onto the walls - thick and suffocating.
What right did this kid have to demand an explanation from him? What was he supposed to explain to him? That he willingly engaged with a beast that in his naivety he tried to tame, and now he's surprised that the beast still has fangs with which it can bite? That he was just a victim destined for slaughter, whom Severus should never have released from the leash and allowed to walk free because it had caused him to get too close? And now he must force him back into the cage, even if it means using a stick? Now he needs to show him back where he belongs?
He turned slowly, letting the darkness seep into him and the flames grow even colder, almost turning into icicles.
"I don't have to explain anything to you, Potter," he drawled. "Didn't it occur to you that I might just not feel like it?"
"And who's telling a bunch of lies here?!" Harry almost screamed. "Unless you decide to explain it to me, I have nothing to look for here. Let me know when you decide." He turned around, angrily grabbed his cloak from the backrest and moved toward the exit.
"Come back immediately, Potter!" Severus roared. The boy stopped and turned around uncertainly. "I didn't let you leave. Sit down!"
For a moment, Potter simply looked at him with fear and indecision on his face, that was slowly winning over the anger boiling within him. Finally he turned around and walked over to the chair, sinking heavily into it and staring at Severus expectantly.
The man relaxed. He had him in his grasp. Now he could strike a blow, he could strike such a painful blow, that would finally dim the glow in his green eyes. He must hurt him so that he loses all hope and no longer tries to climb. He must bite him so deeply that Potter won't come that close again... He must treat him as if he meant nothing...
Severus glanced at the clock. Enough time has passed. He licked his lips, gave the boy the coldest, most indifferent look he could muster, and drawled coldly:
"Your detention has just ended, Mr. Potter. You can leave."
He saw Harry's eyes widen in disbelief and fill with... disappointment, and with pain. And he knew he had hit in the right spot.
He smiled with cruel satisfaction.
Potter's lips pursed into a thin line and his chin began to quiver. Severus just watched as the boy jumped up, grabbed his cloak and ran out of the chambers, slamming the door.
Excellent. Let him go as far away as possible. He doesn't need him at all. He doesn't need his naive assurances; his promises; his presence; his sentimental gestures; his goofy smiles; or adoring eyes staring at him that only cloud Severus' mind and obscure his purpose.
No. The only thing he needs now is... a drink.
As soon as he saw Potter at breakfast the next day... he almost choked. Oh, he knew perfectly well how impulsive the boy could be and how much he get emotional, but... but the state Potter was in... It was like a blow. Like a blow straight to the windpipe, and Severus really had trouble breathing for a while as he looked at the scratches on the boy's cheeks, the blood-soaked bandage on his right hand, and the huge bruise under his eye.
In that one moment he wanted to grab him, drag him out of the Great Hall and ask him why did he do this to himself? Why did he always have to be so damn sensitive? Why did he have to be so fragile and make him feel this… this… writhing, gut-wrenching agitation? An agitation that didn't want to leave him, that made him send him a message and then follow him to the Ancient Runes Classroom, even though he had to keep Potter at distance.
But Potter always could find a way to keep Severus from getting away from him.
The green eyes was staring at him with bitterness and resentment, so intensely that Severus could almost feel their touch on his skin. They made everything inside him seem to twist, biting at his insides and wanting to rip out of him; to lunge forward and devour this sorrow. His cock was almost throbbing in his pants. He reached for it, freeing it, and without taking his eyes off those glassy eyes, he found Potter's tiny hand and guided it towards his eager erection. The boy inhaled sharply when his warm fingers touched the smooth, heated skin and tightened around the man's cock. Even more sparkling bitterness filled his eyes and his mouth tightened, and Severus felt himself getting harder.
"Come on," he whispered urgently.
Potter started moving his hand. And the moment his hand began to slide over Severus' twitching erection, everything around him began to swirl, flooded with the first drops of red.
"Why are you like this?" he suddenly heard reproachful, quiet words. "Why do you treat me like this? I... I'd do anything for you and you know it. So why do you only give me... bleeding wounds in return?" The bitterness that was flowing from the boy's mouth was like lava flowing straight toward Severus' throbbing erection, heating and teasing it. The man groaned and leaned his forearms against the wall on either side of Harry's head, pressing against him and thrusting his hips. "No one will ever want you like I do. No one will ever look at you like I do. Don't you understand this? When you treated me like a random student yesterday... do you know how I felt? Shall I tell you about it?"
Severus bit his lip.
He wanted to answer him. He wanted to tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself, to stop tormenting him with his childish expectations, endless devotion and his irritating personality; to leave him alone for a moment because he couldn't focus on anything. He wanted to tell him that everything was out of control and that he felt like getting drunk again… and how dared he enter his life uninvited, even though he was supposed to stay away from him. He wanted to tell him that he was just a boy who desired the wrong man.
But only one word came out of his mouth:
"Faster"
Harry's hand sped up. And after a while it was joined by the other hand who started stroking the moist tip. Severus bit his lip almost to the point of blood and let out a strangled grunt.
Oh yes! Just like that! Absolutely wonderful!
Up and down and again and those warm fingers so perfectly teasing the head of his cock and collecting the drops of cum.
Harry's hands caressing his erection were slowly making him lose his mind. And at the same time, the boy looked at him so bitterly, as if he blamed Severus for all the evilness in the world.
"Or maybe you want to hear about something else?" he asked in a quiet, hoarse voice. "Shall I tell you about the time when I broke a statue and its fragments injured my whole face, but I didn't feel it at all because the pain was so strong that it completely drowned out the physical suffering? Shall I tell you about it?" He squeezed Severus' throbbing, hot erection tighter.
It was perfect, it was exactly what he wanted to hear. Let the boy remind him how cruel and vile he was, what an unscrupulous bastard he was, only capable of inflicting pain; so that he would never forget what he would have to do; so that he would never forget that this was all just an illusion that would have to be destroyed... and that he would have to destroy it himself by his own hands; so that he wouldn't forget how he functioned before Potter came into his life, because soon he would be alone again... and he would never again be able to whisper in a tortured growl:
"Potter..."
"Or maybe you'll tell me how it feels when you treat me like that?" Harry continued, moving his hands even faster. "How do you enjoy punching me and watching me writhe in pain? How much satisfaction do you get when you humiliate me and watch me fall? Why don't you tell me about how you love hurting me?"
The burst of the hot flames filling the room was sudden and violent. The benches and chairs in the Ancient Runes classroom were spinning around them in a dizzying whirlpool. The walls turned red.
Just a little more. He will allow himself to remain in this illusion for a little more time before he returns to his chambers and will dead drunk himself. Just a little more, he will awaken in his eyes - staring bitterly at him - the same fire that he had seen in them so many times... and that he longed to see again.
Just a little more.
A fiery glow was rising above the houses, illuminating the darkened area. The air was filled with pre-agonal screams, the cries of pain, fear and desperate suffering. The black-clad silhouettes were moving like shadows among the torn or burned bodies lying in the street, following the rest of the Muggles who'd survived and were still trying to escape.
Severus looked away from the man who was twitching on the ground, burning like a living torch, and looked down the street. The Death Eaters spared no one. He saw Adraught pulling a young woman by her hair, dragging her along the ground behind him. He heard her wailing desperately, but it was probably not the pain that caused it, but the dead, two-year-old child that the woman was holding by the leg, dragging it behind her, as if she still believed that it was not too late. But it was. Severus could see the streak of blood shimmering in the firelight and trailing along the ground behind them.
"Helpaaaarrrggghhh!"
Severus turned around just as a young boy with messy black hair fell right on top of him. His blood sprayed over the white mask and the robe which the man was wearing. Severus caught him involuntarily, and at the same moment the entire area was plunged into the thick darkness, the only light falling on the boy's face frozen in terror - the dark, disheveled hair, so familiar... and... suddenly Severus was hit by a vision in which those pale blue, fading eyes turned into emerald green eyes hidden behind the round glasses, and he felt as if something had grabbed him by the throat and was trying to drag him into the muddy swamp of darkness where he was kneeling, holding a limp, lifeless body in his arms.
Is this what it will look like? Is this how he will be holding Potter after the Dark Lord takes his power and life?
"Leave that carcass," he heard a snort come through the darkness, and everything that was happening around came back to him. However, it seemed to be coming from behind the glass - the screams, the flames, the gushing blood; his own hand rising and casting a curse; the body of a woman rolling in agony on the lawn; Blackwood's roaring laughter and his excited words.
But despite all the torment surrounding him, Severus could still only see that dark hair and the empty eyes. He couldn't take his eyes off them until Blackwood's voice came to him, saying that one familiar word:
"-Potter in our hands, the Dark Lord will allow us to have some fun with him."
Severus tore his gaze away from the body lying on the ground and slowly turned his head toward the man standing next to him. An icy gust filled the air.
"Don't tell me you didn't feel like it all those years when he was just at your fingertips," the Death Eater continued. "Imagine this... to fuck their 'Golden Boy', their 'little treasure', the 'hope of the wizarding world', this lousy 'Chosen One'... To crush him into the ground, to trample him, to inflict such pain on him that he could never imagine, and then fuck him until he loses consciousness, just like we used to do... Oh, it will be so much fun!" Blackwood let out a guttural laugh that sounded like a wheeze.
The obsidian eyes didn't move, but something hidden behind them was struggling madly, as if it was trying to break free and tear the throat of the man standing next to it. And rip him to shreds.
Severus was already seeing it in his mind's eye - he saw Blackwood writhing in agony at his feet, subjected to the most terrible tortures; he saw the life slowly draining out of him, and with it the desire he had dared to feel.
He will never touch him. He will never even come near to him. He has no right to breathe the same air as Potter at all; walking on the same earth; exist right next to him.
The moment he desired him, he brought death upon himself. And Severus would love to give it to him right now, at this very moment, so that he wouldn't be able to think even for one second about what else he would do with his Potter... but he had to stop himself. There were too many witnesses around.
"Will it be?" Severus asked, without taking his thoughtful look away from Blackwood, but the man completely ignored it, continuing his fantasies with his eyes shining with vindictive excitement:
"I'll be the first in line for his virgin ass..."
Snape took a step toward him. The frozen grass crunched under his shoes.
You're already dead, Blackwood... it's only a matter of time.
"I can't wait to see it, Blackwood."
He just wanted to go back to his chambers and rest; wash away all the stench and the filth covering his robe; cleanse his mind of the images; get rid of the dirt that filled him and had built up over him like a crust, and then, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, stand over the heat pouring from the Pensieve and drink sip after sip, drink until he no longer cared and he would be ready to throw himself into the fire again...
However as soon as he crossed the threshold of his chambers and he heard rustling behind him, and he turned around, wand ready to defend himself... he saw Potter.
Potter, whom he didn't want to see. Not now, not at this moment, when the structures of his mind were already severely weakened after a whole day of pretending, murdering and playing several different roles... when he knew that one stronger blow would be enough for him to no longer be able to maintain them... and for everything to end in disaster.
He tried to get rid of him. He tried everything, but Potter didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go, didn't want to leave him alone. He just kept spouting his naive, ridiculous nonsense, and even when Severus started throwing curses at him… he was still there. Like a light that cannot be extinguished in any way, and which dazzles all the time, until in the end all you can do is to cover your eyes from it and pretend that what it brought out of the darkness does not exist at all.
And that this deepening tightness in his chest doesn't exist either.
"I don't want to die..." Harry's whisper was extremely quiet, but it was enough to wreak devastating destruction and awaken the demons. A dead body at his feet... the dark hair scattered on the grass... the dead, dull eyes... and after everything-
-a void.
Nothing else.
He managed to emerge at the last moment. He focused his gaze on Potter sitting on the floor and tightened his grip on the wand, pointing it between his eyes.
"You're not the only victim in this war, Potter," he drawled, struggling to control his voice. "You're not the first and you won't be the last one. Do you think that all those who'd died didn't want to live too? Do you think they wanted to sacrifice their lives? Do you think that only you have to sacrifice something that is dearest to you?!"
He almost choked when he realized what he had just said, or rather shouted in Potter's face.
But luckily, the boy didn't seem to notice... or understand.
That's good.
"That's not the point!" Potter also shouted back. "Not long ago I would have done it without hesitation. I didn't care. But now... now I have... something. You. And I'm afraid because I don't want to lose it. Killing Voldemort used to be the most important thing to me. Now... now you are the most important! Don't you understand this?" he finished quietly.
Severus pursed his lips, trying to ignore the abyss opening beneath him.
How could he not understand this? He understood all too well...
But he certainly won't accept it. He will not accept anything that could threaten his greatest desire - the desire that kept him alive until now... Even if he had to rip it out from himself with his own bare hands, no matter how painful it would be and how much blood he would lose in the process.
"Sometimes you prioritize what's important over what's personal," he said in a hoarse, distant voice. "And you have to accept it, Potter."
"No! I will never accept it! You can reconcile it-"
"Reconcile?" Snape interrupted him. "Believe me, you can't. If you let personal feelings get in the way of your priorities, you've already lost."
This stupid boy didn't understand anything! No, he just fucked with his life, regardless of anything and naively thinking that feelings are something that can be worn like armor and that they have no impact on the victory; on the survival.
They were the greatest weakness. A terrible, pathetic weakness and only fools allowed them to take over them, to guide them... Fools with their hearts on their sleeve, who thought that this weakness could give them any protection, that it would allow them to survive... But it was not any armor, but just rags that obstruct the view and make movement difficult. It's something that could only kill you, and it would do it at the first opportunity.
Potter frowned, looking at Severus with a searching, scrutinizing look. And after a while he asked, narrowing his eyes:
"And what are your priorities, Severus?"
They were moving along the dangerous edge, getting closer and closer to the abyss with each passing moment.
"Don't provoke me, Potter," Snape growled, trying to control the trembling of his voice.
"I have no intention of doing so," Harry replied calmly. "I just want to know what is so important that prevents you from... being with me. Sometimes I feel like you are trying to discourage me with your behavior. As if you want to keep me at a distance. I don't understand why you do this. But I want you to know that your attempts are in vain. It's impossible, because you are always with me-" Harry moved his hand and placed it over his heart "-here" he whispered quietly.
Always.
It happened in silence. It drowned out the collapsing wall, the cracking shield, the barrier crumbling into dust. It filled every crevice, spreading liquid calm throughout Severus' body and causing - for one brief moment - everything that might disturb him to fade away... The Dark Lord, every curse, every mind penetration, every scream of agony and fading eyes...
All that remained was him - only Potter.
And a desire - a desire so strong it's almost suffocating. Now, when there was nothing inside him, when everything that had kept him afloat was gone, when everything he had fed on had been sucked out of him... only hunger remained. And the void - the void that only Harry could fill... that only he was able to fill.
He felt his knees buckle beneath him and his arms stretching out to reach for what he needed to survive. And he took it, pulling Harry close, and he was already immersed in him, in his heat and his smell, in his gaze and his devotion, feeling how it all fill him, how it grow inside him, reaching deeper and deeper and warming him, warming every fragment of his icy soul.
But it still wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted even more of him.
So he reached even further - to his mind, that was now open like an outstretched hand that only wants to give. And he almost went into anaphylactic shock when he was suddenly surrounded by... this. It was everywhere. Strong and hard like a diamond, yet soft and delicate like a down... and so incredibly warm... and it belonged only to him. All this... power, because he couldn't name it anything else. Directed only toward him. Ready to do anything for him.
The strength hidden under the mask of... a weakness. Is this what it looked like? Has it always… burn like this?
He wanted to... no, he had to taste it... to dive deeper into it.
And he did it.
The pleasure he felt at that moment seemed almost unearthly to him, even though it was only a fraction of the power that lay dormant in Harry. It was like bathing in lava, and he barely managed to surface out of it.
He fell onto the shaking body beneath him, gasping for air as it had escaped from his lungs. He felt dizzy and for the first time was unable to recover from his orgasm. He felt as if his entire body was pulsating with the fire that had just consumed it.
And then he felt Harry's arms wrap around his neck and pull him even closer.
"Damn you, Potter..." he panted with difficulty when he managed to find his voice. He was sure the boy was smiling, but at the moment he didn't care at all. He just wanted to stay like that, feeling him with every part of his body, with his every sense - his touch, his scent, his calm breathing...
He moved and propped himself on his arms, looking at the flushed face of the boy and the crystal green eyes staring intently at him. Involuntarily, he raised his gloved hand and touched the lightning-shaped scar that crossed the sweat-drenched forehead. He slowly moved his finger to Harry's temple and cheek, watching with fascination the trail of blood that his touch left. The blood of all those who died today, glistening on that fair, flawless skin... was like a desecration.
He moved his finger to Harry's chin and finally stopped it on his parted lips, staining them with red.
He swallowed, feeling his throat suddenly go dry.
For one crazy moment he wondered if he could lick those wet lips? Just run his tongue over them once to feel their taste...
But he knew that if he tried to do this, it would be one step too far... and then he wouldn't be able to stop himself from sinking deeper into their taste, into their heat... and that would be the end of him.
No, he needs to taste it in a different way. There was another way to quench this still unfulfilled thirst that was consuming him from the inside.
So he started moving further, leaving a bloody mark on the boy's skin until he finally reached his penis. He removed the glove with his teeth and wrapped his hand around Potter's erection. It was so hot it almost burned... like the fire he felt when he was inside him. And he wanted to experience it again, he wanted to see it in those green eyes, as soon as possible... The boy moaned and whimpered as Severus ran his hand over his cock, wanting to squeeze an orgasm from him at all costs, wanting to see that brightness spread over his face again, needing to see it! And he didn't have to wait too long.
The slender body arched and something like a wailing sigh escaped Harry's lips. The boy's arms wrapped around Severus' neck tightened even stronger, as if trying to crush him, and a hot breath wrapped around his neck.
He felt warm streams of semen settling on his hand.
He licked his lips involuntarily, feeling his mouth dry again. He needed it. As soon as possible. This desire... burned.
He freed himself from Harry's grip and rose on his hands, looking down at his red, radiant face and the damp strands of dark hair stuck to his forehead. He saw fire burning in his wide open eyes - a fire that almost reached into his mind and Severus felt it so clearly as if it was burning inside him too.
He released the hot penis from his hand and raised his cum-covered hand to his mouth.
He licked it.
It tasted... delicious. It poured into his mouth like a stream of cool water into a dry throat, instantly quenching his thirst and bringing relief incomparable to anything else. All the taste of Potter... all his enthusiasm, unpredictability, naivety, devotion, all the power within him... all contained in this white, bittersweet liquid. In his mouth. In his throat. Therein. Spreading over his body and extinguishing the ruined mess that remained inside him after what he had experienced. Bringing... peace.
He gave in to it. He dropped to his elbows, nuzzling his face into Harry's hot neck and immersing himself in his overwhelming, relaxing warmth.
"Come back tomorrow night. I'll prepare a dinner. And... bring your pajamas and a toothbrush. If you want."
He was a fool. He thought he was invincible, that all he had to do was build huge dams with thick, solid walls that would be able to stop anything. But such an element couldn't be stopped. It seeped in unnoticed, permeated so long and so persistently, until it finally created a hole wide enough for it to break through and flood everything in its path, ruining the carefully built structure.
But only true fools could believe that it was over. True virtuosos were able to raise their structures higher and higher, even in the midst of the elements raging around them. That's why they were called Masters.
Severus looked at Potter falling asleep on his lap. The evening turned out to be a success. They ate dinner together, which Severus had prepared... and then they simply let themselves be carried away by their perverse fantasies. And now Severus had the boy here, next to him, so close that he could almost hear his heartbeat and his breathing becoming calmer. The dark strands tickled his neck, and the scent of vanilla seeped into his robe. Potter snuggled into him as if Severus's arms meant the world to him and he didn't need anything else. Anything.
"Enough of this," the man whispered quietly. "You are going to sleep."
He slid his hands under the boy's buttocks, lifting him up, getting out of the chair and heading towards the bedroom.
He wasn't going to fight it any longer. Let it continue while they still have time. Until it's taken away from him.
He placed him in his bed, gently taking off his shoes and pants, and the glasses.
But when that moment comes-
"W-what... do-?"
"Shh, sleep now," Severus murmured, pressing his lips to the boy's temple.
-he won't hesitate even for a moment.
He sacrificed too much. Too many lives had been sacrificed for him to give up now, now that he had almost reached his goal, now that he had it within his reach.
He lifted him carefully, pulling his shirt over his head and laying him back on the cool sheets.
Some things were more important than the other ones. Only weak people put their feelings first and considered them the most important. Only blind people couldn't distinguish what was important from what was personal.
He covered him and straightened up, watching as Potter rolled over and whispered sleepily,
"If you ever... moan my name... I'll tell you my secret."
Severus allowed himself a weak smile.
The boy enthralled him, but it didn't change anything. Absolutely nothing.
He reached out and gently stroked his cheek.
"Then your secret is safe. Goodnight," he replied quietly.
Only the naive ones thought they could have it all.
He withdrew his hand, turned and headed for the bathroom, but before he reached it, he heard him saying in a soft, sleepy whisper:
"Goodnight... Severus."
He closed the door behind him.
Severus wasn't weak, he wasn't blind and he wasn't naive. He knew what had to be done and he wasn't going to back down from it. It was too late for that. It had taken too much effort for him to get to this point.
He will do it. He will sacrifice him. He will sacrifice him for the desire to which he had devoted almost his entire life... for which he had even sacrificed his own soul... And he will achieve his goal, he will reach the very end, even if it meant... tearing out his heart with his own hands and crushing it. Even if it takes his breath away and he can't be able to breathe again.
When he emerged from the bathroom, the silence in the bedroom was filled only by the soft, even breathing. Potter was already asleep.
Severus walked over to the bed and slipped under the covers, looking at the warm shape lying next to him in the dark; at the gentle line of the neck; at the hair sticking out in all directions; and the naked arm sticking out from under the blanket, which was moving slowly with each breath.
He carefully moved closer. Harry didn't move. He was sleeping with his back turned to him. So Severus could move even closer to him.
He raised his hand to touch Harry's bare shoulder and slowly ran his fingers over it in a gentle, almost imperceptible caress.
He moved even closer, pressing himself against the smooth, bare back and... reached for him. He wrapped his arm around Harry's waist and, as gently as he could, pulled him closer, positioning himself so that he could feel him with his entire body... and so that he could warm himself with his undying heat. His lips found Harry's shoulder and pressed against the skin, absorbing its taste and scent with all his needy senses.
"I can't change it," he whispered, feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He moved his head, finding the hot neck of the boy with his lips and placing a gentle kiss there. "I can't..."
You will remain in my memories. And you will be in them forever. With me.