The Death of a Soul

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Chapter Thirteen

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Severus was cursing under his breath as he gathered the necessary ingredients. The laboratory was smaller than his normal one he usually used, however, he preferred doing his potions here because the items were close at hand and not locked up in separate cupboards. He spent no time in adding together the correct amounts, hoping that by doing so, it would get his mind off his current situation for a short while. But as he stirred each of the three mixtures, he couldn’t help but think of how foolish he was. He should've waited. He should’ve postponed the wedding for another week. He and the boy needed more time alone. He needed more time.

It was not uncommon for two betrothed to have been engaging in premarital sex or other activities; in fact, it was usually assumed that they already were. The revealing of their bodies would definitely have been less awkward and a lot less embarrassing. Yes, Severus should've waited one more week. He could’ve spent that time alone with Harry and used every available minute for the two of them to get acquainted. Amongst other things of course. Severus cursed himself again. He was a Slytherin and Slytherins were supposed to be cunning and in control at all times.

“Damnit,” he said under his breath. Once they were properly brewed, he gathered each phial and headed back.


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Harry gasped for breath as his stomach continued to convulse. He took several deep breaths to try and stop it, focusing just on that. He finally managed, but as he did he became fully aware that his mouth was dry and his throat burned from the acid that had come from his empty stomach. He swallowed hard, but he couldn’t produce enough spittle. He needed water. Harry was too weak to stand just yet so he did the only thing he could think of. He flushed the toilet and when it was replaced with clean water, he scooped up handfuls of the precious liquid, quenching his thirst. He leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes.

His throat now relieved, Harry became aware of a different kind of agony. His body ached. From his muscles, to his internal organs, to his throbbing head, every inch of him cried out. Harry had never experienced so much pain in his all of his young life. He wondered why Dumbledore allowed this type of abuse that was inflicted on him? Did he even have the slightest idea? Did he not care what happened to his favourite Golden Boy? Of course he did, Harry thought bitterly. They all did. And what about his two best friends? They said they tried, but … it didn’t matter now, did it? He was still here, married to his hated teacher and trapped inside a stupid Life-Debt.

Harry brought his legs into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them. His body was still shaking no matter how hard he squeezed them. He’d known all along that he was just a pawn, used for the sake of the Wizarding World. And now all that was expected of him was to destroy Voldemort. Harry half-laughed at that thought. Voldemort. Did they honestly think Harry would concede now? They had taken everything away from him and now he was expected to protect them? Didn’t they realise that they might have pushed The Boy-Who-Lived too far and turned him into the Boy-Who-Wants-To-Die? No. They didn’t care. None of them did.

Harry shook his head at that thought, freed his sore legs from his death grip and pushed himself away from the wall. As if going in slow motion, he lowered his body to the floor; one arm clutching the pillow while the other squeezed his side. His stomach muscles still ached from the dry heaving. Through his hazy mind he wondered if this is how it felt after a night of drinking. He remembered on several occasions his dorm mates lying in the exact spot he was in now. He also remembered that when they had finished retching they would crawl to the shower and stayed there sometimes till dawn, drowning themselves. Harry lifted his head and blinked a few times as he tried to focus on the shower stall.

No, he thought. He couldn’t make it. He was in too much pain, but yet he had to do something. His eyes fell on the sink above him and then looked back at the shower. Harry knew his only other choice was to go back into the … No, his mind hissed. He’d stay in here as long as possible. But what if he came in? His question was answered, however, when he heard the distant sound of a door being closed. Harry sighed in relief and briefly closed his eyes. He braced himself on one hand and gingerly sat up. Suddenly, he doubled over as the pain in his stomach overtook his body again. In a fleeting thought, Harry regretted not taking the potion he was offered.

Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He could do this. He had to. Still clutching his side, Harry pulled himself along the floor with his one arm and his two legs until he reached the inside of the shower. He couldn’t believe that moving just a few feet seemed to take forever. He leaned against the shower wall and turned the knobs. Harry gasped loudly as the water hit his body and instantly scooted away from the scorching liquid. He carefully crossed his legs in front of him and hung his head. He glanced back over to the basin and gasped. There was blood in front of it. His blood. He quickly looked down and his breath caught in his throat when a thin streak of pink flowed down the drain.

“Oh God,” he whispered.

They lied. There was damage. He was bleeding. Harry felt another wave of nausea and covered his mouth. Bastards. They lied. He watched until the water finally ran clear. Harry let out a small sigh of relief. It couldn’t be that bad if it had stopped, but he had to find out for sure. He twisted his body to the side and lifted himself to a kneeling position. Harry took another deep breath and carefully reached in between his legs. He hissed as his finger touched his entrance, expecting some kind of pain, but there was none. Harry slowly inserted one finger, withdrew it and held it up to his face. Even without his glasses, he could tell that there was no other evidence of blood. Harry closed his eyes and barely smiled. No damage. Thank all the Gods above.

Slowly and carefully, Harry washed his body, taking extra care with his backside. It wasn’t as difficult as he had originally thought to clean himself from a sitting position, and actually he did quite well. Thorough even. After ten long minutes, Harry rinsed and shut off the tap. He crawled out of the shower and reached up to grab the hanging towel. Harry knew he could no longer delay standing, so he gripped the basin with one hand and the sink with the other, and lifted himself up slowly. Harry’s legs almost gave out a couple of times before somewhat stabilising. He clutched the sides of the sink and gazed into the mirror.

From what he could see, his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He raised his fingers to them and softly touched his skin. They were swollen. He squinted and took a hard look at himself. A single tear ran down his face and he had to look away. It wasn’t him. It was him, but - just as he swore in his wedding vow - he was a new Harry Potter. Harry shook his head and turned away. He had to get out of there, but the only other choice was the bedroom. He toweled off and wrapped it loosely around his waist. Keeping himself braced against the wall, he trudged back in.


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Snape entered back into his quarters - their quarters he corrected himself - closing the door softly behind him. His private workplace he had left was adjoined with the living area, concealed behind a large tapestry behind the bar. Severus used that secret room primarily for special potions requested by Madam Pomfrey and the Dark Lord. It also held a large collection of tomes that consisted of illegal Dark Arts recipes, spells and potions that if discovered, would certainly mean Azkaban for life. It was not surprising then that Severus made sure it was well hidden.

Carefully holding the containers in one hand, he quietly opened the bedroom door and walked straight back to the bath, expecting to find his young spouse still huddled on the floor. Because the door was ajar, he should've known that Harry wasn’t in there, but he had to make sure. Severus backed up and turned to glance around the room, but the young man was nowhere to be seen. Surely he hadn’t gone out. And even if he had, the gown and the white robe wouldn’t still be lying on the floor abandoned. He couldn’t have gone far then.

The older wizard immediately set the bottles down on the bedside table to take a better look around. The duvet was crumpled at the end of the bed and the sheet was missing. The room was neither that large nor equipped with enough furniture for Harry to be hiding successfully in it. Severus gave the room one last sweep before turning back towards the living room, but stopped short when he heard a muffled noise coming from the farthest corner. He approached silently and peered over from the foot of the bed and there was Harry crouched in the corner, underneath the sheets.

Only a small bit of the young man’s hair was visible and the rest of him was encased like a mummy. For a moment, Severus watched the clothed figure tremble and listened to the erratic breathing that sounded to be coming from an open mouth. He gingerly knelt down in front of him, but braced himself for an abrupt backlash from his spouse.

“Harry?” he whispered gently. No reply. “Harry,” he said a little louder. Still nothing.

Unable to restrain himself, Severus lightly touched the top of Harry’s head. The boy instantly scooted further back and recoiled, tightening his arms around his legs. Severus slowly rose to his feet, backed away and inwardly sighed. Again he should've known better. It was much too soon… but he had to try.


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From under the covers, Harry was awakened by the sound of clinking bottles. He felt a presence near him and his name softly whispered. He cringed when a hand touched his hair because the last thing Harry wanted was to be touched in any manner. Especially from him. All he wanted right now was to be left alone.


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As he stood back and watched Harry shivering, Severus’s mind drifted back to the time when he himself was in that same position. He remembered just how frightened he was and how no comfort in the world would’ve helped him relax. Severus was a little older than Harry is now, but the emotions and the humiliation he must be feeling about now was probably the same. Yes, he decided… it was best that he should wait a while and try again.

Severus never received the comfort that he promised himself to give Harry, but the situation was quite different then. He remembered that he was only given one hour to recover and then it would start all over again. Severus began to wonder if that meant he was no better than the ones that had inflicted the pain on him. No! He told himself. This was different. The situation was different. He was different and his intentions were different. Convincing himself of this, Severus returned to living area, poured himself another glass of wine and sat in front of the fireplace before finally giving in to his body’s demand for sleep.


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Severus woke up with a start a few hours later, almost spilling the alcohol out of his glass that he was still clutching. He glanced up at the clock and noticed it hadn’t been just a few hours that went by, but five. He stood and placed his drink down on the bar and entered the bedroom as quietly as he could. Since he didn’t have his wand – neither one did – he retrieved a set of clean sheets and made up the bed. Perhaps he could persuade Harry to lie down. His mind abandoned that thought though when he heard the slow, deep breathing coming from the side of the bed and knew straight away that Harry was already in a deep slumber. Severus lied down, covered himself up, and watched Harry till he fell back to sleep.

Another hour had passed and Severus snapped his eyes open thinking he heard a loud groan. He leaned over and Harry was still there, but he now was shaking violently. It was now ten past eight in the morning and decided that it was time to wake his young husband before his dreams - or rather his nightmares - consumed him. Severus swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid down, kneeling before Harry. He reached out and stroked Harry’s back. The response was immediate. The sheet was yanked down and a pair of green eyes glared at him.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Harry screamed, pushing himself further into the corner. His voice sounded rough and ragged.

Severus sighed in relief. “Harry, I need to…” he began.

“Go away,” his young husband whispered, interrupting him and covered his body once more.

Severus sat there for a moment, unable to move. He was tempted to follow his instincts and make Harry get up, but instead he pulled himself to his feet. He would try again later.


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Severus glanced back at Harry before walking into the bathroom. Since it was past midnight, and all the required rituals were now over, the demand for the wedded couple to bathe together no longer applied. Severus shrugged off his robe, stepped into the shower and turned the knobs. He backed away from the sprout, letting the warm liquid coat just his legs. He reached for the soap, lathered it up in the water and then out of habit, lowered it to his groin - as that was the first thing he usually washed. Severus’s face paled.

The older wizard blinked several times in hopes that what he was looking at … wasn’t truly there. Blood. A small trace of dried blood was still clinging to his body. The bar of soap slipped through his fingers and he fell forward, catching himself on the wall. Severus’s forehead pressed into the cool tile while the water ran down his back. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He just stood there under the spray until the water finally ran cold.

After the initial shock wore off, Severus quickly finished cleaning himself and dried off. He wrapped the damp towel around his waist and timidly approached Harry. His young husband was still crouched in the corner, hiding under the dirty sheets. From what Severus could tell, the boy hadn’t bled that much, but in any case, he had to make sure. And he had to act fast. For the third time that day, he knelt before his husband.


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“Harry, please let me help you. I need to make sure…” he began but was unable to finish. He sighed again. “Are you hurt?”

Instantly, he regretted saying that.

Harry’s face appeared. “Are you mad? Of course I fucking hurt, you bastard! I hurt everywhere thanks to you!”

Severus instinctively became defensive. “I had no other choice, boy, and you know it,” he hissed.

Harry’s eyes opened wild and his body flushed with rage. “You liar! You could’ve warned me! You could’ve told me that there was a deadline!” he screamed through his raw throat. “You could’ve told me that there could’ve been a chance of …of this!” he spat, gesturing down his body.

Harry’s eyes challenged his husband to say something. Anything. But Severus said nothing. Harry took several breaths, swallowed painfully and stared at the wall.

“You…you…Why did you… why didn’t you …” Harry choked, his voice fading along with his words. His head fell back down and hugged his legs again. Harry buried his face once again into the flattened pillow that was still resting on his knees. “Go away,” he whispered.

And reluctantly, Severus left.


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Severus snuck back into the bedroom several times over the next few hours to check on Harry, but still left him alone. As the minutes turned into hours, he began to get impatient. If Harry needed medical attention, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

At noon, Dobby appeared with two plates of food, placing them on the small table. When he noticed Harry was nowhere to be seen, he looked accusingly at Snape, expecting a full explanation. Severus merely sneered at the elf and waved him away. With a snort, Dobby disappeared. He returned at half past five, again with two hot meals. This time Dobby wouldn’t budge.

“Where is Harry Potter?” he demanded.

“He is fine, now go away,” Snape retorted.

“Dobby will not go away. Where is Harry Potter?” he repeated slowly.

Severus rose up to his feet and walked over to him, hands clenched at his side. “I said, he is…”

“I will tell Mr Dumbledore,” Dobby blurted out, then vanished.

Severus stalked back to the bedroom and stood in front of Harry.

“It has been well over eight hours and I need to see if you require…” Severus began in a firm voice.

Harry jumped to his feet, staggering slightly. “Why can’t you just leave me alone! I’m fine!” he hissed. “That’s what you told Dobby, isn’t it?”

“If I thought you were in immediate danger, I would have forced you to…” Severus stopped, realising the word he had chosen.

The young wizard began laughing, almost hysterically. “No need to finish that statement, Death Eater,” Harry said crossing his arms. “We both know what you’re capable of.”

Snape began to tremble in rage and moved in close, leering down at him.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Harry challenged. “My permission?”

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by a loud knock on the door. He sneered at Harry then spun around and headed to the living room. He knew who it was. Albus Dumbledore. As he opened the door, the bedroom door slammed shut.

“May I come in?” Dumbledore inquired.

Severus stepped aside and motioned with his arms for the older wizard to enter. Albus looked around, before locking his eyes on the two plates of uneaten food. He turned to face Severus.

“I expected the two of you not to attend breakfast, but lunch and dinner?”

Snape glanced at the closed bedroom door. “I apologise, Albus. He wasn’t … we weren’t feeling well,” he lied.

“I see,” Dumbledore acknowledged, nodding his head. “Does he need Madam Pomfrey’s assistance?”

Severus looked away and sighed. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Severus,” Albus warned. “If he needs…”

“I know that, Albus,” he snapped suddenly.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Don’t put me in this position, Severus. You need to take care of this matter now.”

Severus turned his back to him and folded his arms. “I will. You can be sure of that.”

Albus said not another word and left quietly.

“Damnit,” groaned Severus.


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Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the wall, still clutching his precious pillow.

“Well?” he said bitterly. “I suppose I have to lie on the bed now so you can examine me.”

“Yes,” Snape mumbled.

Harry hung his head. “I hate you,” he whispered.

Severus crossed the room and stood in front of Harry. He slowly squat down.

“Harry, please. I didn’t want it to come to this. You must believe me.”

The young man snapped his head up. “Believe you?” he mocked. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

And with that, Harry pushed Severus backwards and laid face down.

“Well? Get on with it,” he hissed.


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