A Man Cannot Control His Dreams
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
59,418
Reviews:
275
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
59,418
Reviews:
275
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Now
A/N I hit 10,000 words in this chapter! Thanks for 59 reviews.
Harry Continued through the rest of his day in something of a daze. All of his thought power, instead of being dedicated to turning mice into trainers in transfiguration or taking notes in History of Magic, was trying desperately to convince him of two very different things simultaneously. One side of him was raging with fear and disgust and screaming at him to never set foot in the dungeons– never to let Snape’s hands near him – again.
The other side was simply, almost calmly, reminding him that there was really no point in resisting, not when Snape was so… persuasive. So cruel and dark and precise in every interaction, making everything an impossible trial of self control. Making every offhand comment or critique seem charged with the memory of what he’d done – what they’d done.
By that point of understanding, which was reached later that evening, the angry, self-righteously disgusted voice had been totally drowned out. All that was left as Harry went down to dinner beside his friends and fellow Gryffindors, then, were considerations of Snape’s hands, his mouth, the slim, black-clad body beneath his robes. In short, when Harry glanced up towards the teacher’s table in the great hall, there was nothing at all in his mind but the Potions Master. Nothing at all but the threat, the promise, of “later.”
****
Severus saw Potter the moment he entered the room, surrounded by his red-and-gold compatriots. Severus saw him all right, but did not dare look at him. The last thing he needed at this point was to draw attention to either himself or the boy. And, of course, worse yet would be to draw attention to himself and the boy. So he ate in near silence, curtly answering the well-meant inquiries of the rest of the faculty and generally rebuffing all small talk. He really rather wanted dinner to be over, along with the rest of the evening. He really rather wanted night to fall. He really rather wanted “later” to become “now.”
****
Well past midnight, Harry was awoken by a blurry, yet painfully familiar set of huge ears and ridiculous googly-eyes.
“Dobby!” Harry groaned, and put a pillow over his face. “What are you doing in here?” He had been having a rather enjoyable dream and had wanted to continue it. Well, so much for that. Dobby rocked excitedly back and forth on his heels.
“Dobby has a message for Harry Potter Sir!” Dobby squeaked, and bowed once or twice, his hats teetering dangerously. This news got Harry’s attention. He sat up, groping for his glasses.
“From who?” he asked, but Dobby seemed oblivious to the question, overexcited.
“Dobby did not want to bring it to Harry Potter at first, because Dobby knows that Harry potter does not like – “
“Dobby!” Harry interjected again. “From who?”
“But Professor Snape said Harry Potter would enjoy it very much. So Dobby agreed to bring it to Harry Potter!” At this, Dobby reached under his precarious stack of hats and withdrew a folded scrap of parchment, handing it over almost reverently.
“Oh… Thanks Dobby.”
“Harry Potter is very welcome! Dobby is always ready to help Harry Potter!” With that, the elf bowed low and apparated away with a pop, leaving Harry’s pulse racing as he held the paper.
“Open it,” he said to himself, as if trying to gain more courage. “Just go ahead and…oh.”
The parchment was blank, save for one word, written in neat, slanted script:
“Now.”
Oh.
Harry was already out the door.
He was well down the hall in darkness, in fact, when he realized it would probably be pertinent to go back for his cloak and map. It would hardly do to be caught in the dungeons by Mrs. Norris, Peeves, or any other late- night lurkers stalking the halls. That thought, of course, just made Harry think of Snape’s late night lurking that had so often gotten in the way of whatever slightly anarchic plans he, Ron and Hermione had been trying to execute. He smiled ruefully at the memories. This delay, however, was just enough time for his brain to catch up to his actions. In an almost unconscious contraction he crumpled the parchment in his hand, and looked at it for a fraction of a second, so small and innocuous in his palm. He flung it to the floor like a hot coal.
He couldn’t go down there tonight. He couldn’t just… obey. The thought made him flush, turning his stomach with panic. He could practically see Snape’s fury as the seconds passed, as the Potions Professor counted his lateness… or even, that he was not coming at all…
That was almost enough to get him moving again. Now that they had crossed the invisible line that made them student and teacher, there was nothing that Snape couldn’t do to him. There was no punishment out of bounds. The idea was terrifying, unexpected.
Harry would simply go down to the dungeons and tell the Potions Master that it couldn’t happen again. That he wouldn’t – he wouldn’t let it. Yes. That was all he would say. And then he would leave and come back to bed. And sleep.
Even as he gathered his cloak around him and crept through the portrait hole, the excuse sounded feeble. And yet, it was all he had to go on, so he bolstered it the best he could.
****
This time, when he reached the heavy wooden doors, he didn’t bother knocking. And this time, Severus didn’t bother with the pleasantries. Before Harry could fully remove his invisibility cloak, Snape had cornered him, and the Gryffindor almost forgot right then what he’d promised himself he’d say.
“Wait!” he said, dismayed to find his back against the stones of the potion’s classroom walls already. Time was not being wasted here – not this time.
“What, Mr. Potter? You are already late.” Severus’ tone was malicious and measured, and Harry suddenly felt entirely too exposed. He was dressed in simple trousers and a T-shirt, what he’d been sleeping in, and was acutely aware of the thinness of the fabric – the ease of removal. Severus raised an eyebrow, seeming to notice such things at the same moment. “You had something to say?” he asked, voice and intonation implying the absolute uselessness of anything Harry might have in mind. And even then, Harry knew that was true.
*
*
*
*
*
tbc
Harry Continued through the rest of his day in something of a daze. All of his thought power, instead of being dedicated to turning mice into trainers in transfiguration or taking notes in History of Magic, was trying desperately to convince him of two very different things simultaneously. One side of him was raging with fear and disgust and screaming at him to never set foot in the dungeons– never to let Snape’s hands near him – again.
The other side was simply, almost calmly, reminding him that there was really no point in resisting, not when Snape was so… persuasive. So cruel and dark and precise in every interaction, making everything an impossible trial of self control. Making every offhand comment or critique seem charged with the memory of what he’d done – what they’d done.
By that point of understanding, which was reached later that evening, the angry, self-righteously disgusted voice had been totally drowned out. All that was left as Harry went down to dinner beside his friends and fellow Gryffindors, then, were considerations of Snape’s hands, his mouth, the slim, black-clad body beneath his robes. In short, when Harry glanced up towards the teacher’s table in the great hall, there was nothing at all in his mind but the Potions Master. Nothing at all but the threat, the promise, of “later.”
****
Severus saw Potter the moment he entered the room, surrounded by his red-and-gold compatriots. Severus saw him all right, but did not dare look at him. The last thing he needed at this point was to draw attention to either himself or the boy. And, of course, worse yet would be to draw attention to himself and the boy. So he ate in near silence, curtly answering the well-meant inquiries of the rest of the faculty and generally rebuffing all small talk. He really rather wanted dinner to be over, along with the rest of the evening. He really rather wanted night to fall. He really rather wanted “later” to become “now.”
****
Well past midnight, Harry was awoken by a blurry, yet painfully familiar set of huge ears and ridiculous googly-eyes.
“Dobby!” Harry groaned, and put a pillow over his face. “What are you doing in here?” He had been having a rather enjoyable dream and had wanted to continue it. Well, so much for that. Dobby rocked excitedly back and forth on his heels.
“Dobby has a message for Harry Potter Sir!” Dobby squeaked, and bowed once or twice, his hats teetering dangerously. This news got Harry’s attention. He sat up, groping for his glasses.
“From who?” he asked, but Dobby seemed oblivious to the question, overexcited.
“Dobby did not want to bring it to Harry Potter at first, because Dobby knows that Harry potter does not like – “
“Dobby!” Harry interjected again. “From who?”
“But Professor Snape said Harry Potter would enjoy it very much. So Dobby agreed to bring it to Harry Potter!” At this, Dobby reached under his precarious stack of hats and withdrew a folded scrap of parchment, handing it over almost reverently.
“Oh… Thanks Dobby.”
“Harry Potter is very welcome! Dobby is always ready to help Harry Potter!” With that, the elf bowed low and apparated away with a pop, leaving Harry’s pulse racing as he held the paper.
“Open it,” he said to himself, as if trying to gain more courage. “Just go ahead and…oh.”
The parchment was blank, save for one word, written in neat, slanted script:
“Now.”
Oh.
Harry was already out the door.
He was well down the hall in darkness, in fact, when he realized it would probably be pertinent to go back for his cloak and map. It would hardly do to be caught in the dungeons by Mrs. Norris, Peeves, or any other late- night lurkers stalking the halls. That thought, of course, just made Harry think of Snape’s late night lurking that had so often gotten in the way of whatever slightly anarchic plans he, Ron and Hermione had been trying to execute. He smiled ruefully at the memories. This delay, however, was just enough time for his brain to catch up to his actions. In an almost unconscious contraction he crumpled the parchment in his hand, and looked at it for a fraction of a second, so small and innocuous in his palm. He flung it to the floor like a hot coal.
He couldn’t go down there tonight. He couldn’t just… obey. The thought made him flush, turning his stomach with panic. He could practically see Snape’s fury as the seconds passed, as the Potions Professor counted his lateness… or even, that he was not coming at all…
That was almost enough to get him moving again. Now that they had crossed the invisible line that made them student and teacher, there was nothing that Snape couldn’t do to him. There was no punishment out of bounds. The idea was terrifying, unexpected.
Harry would simply go down to the dungeons and tell the Potions Master that it couldn’t happen again. That he wouldn’t – he wouldn’t let it. Yes. That was all he would say. And then he would leave and come back to bed. And sleep.
Even as he gathered his cloak around him and crept through the portrait hole, the excuse sounded feeble. And yet, it was all he had to go on, so he bolstered it the best he could.
****
This time, when he reached the heavy wooden doors, he didn’t bother knocking. And this time, Severus didn’t bother with the pleasantries. Before Harry could fully remove his invisibility cloak, Snape had cornered him, and the Gryffindor almost forgot right then what he’d promised himself he’d say.
“Wait!” he said, dismayed to find his back against the stones of the potion’s classroom walls already. Time was not being wasted here – not this time.
“What, Mr. Potter? You are already late.” Severus’ tone was malicious and measured, and Harry suddenly felt entirely too exposed. He was dressed in simple trousers and a T-shirt, what he’d been sleeping in, and was acutely aware of the thinness of the fabric – the ease of removal. Severus raised an eyebrow, seeming to notice such things at the same moment. “You had something to say?” he asked, voice and intonation implying the absolute uselessness of anything Harry might have in mind. And even then, Harry knew that was true.
*
*
*
*
*
tbc