The Death of a Soul

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Chapter Fourteen

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Severus stood slowly as he watched his young husband climb up on the bed and sprawl out face down. Snape looked longingly at him, eyes drifting from one end of his body to the other. Harry’s muscles were still very taut but it wasn’t from fear or anger. The convulsions his stomach had endured showed quite clearly why: his body ached. And Snape had caused it. He could make Harry forget last night– with spells or potions – but that would be the easiest way out. The cowardly way out. So Severus made another vow: to do anything to make Harry forgive.


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Harry sensed that Snape was hesitating, but why? Was he trying to make him feel more vulnerable than he already was? Because if that was Snape’s intention…

No, Harry thought angrily. I won't let him.

Harry had finally had enough. All of this was making him emotionally and physically drained and he was tired of feeling this way. He just wanted this to be over and over with now. Harry raised his head and looked over his shoulder to see what was going on. At the same time a thin cool material was draped over his lower back. Harry tried to twist around, but he was stopped when the older wizard spoke.

“Turn over, Harry.” Snape's voice appeared to be calm but there was the slightest hint of an order. And Harry heard it.

Harry roughly rolled over and glared up at the dark onyx eyes. It was filled with an unreadable expression. Snape quickly looked away and adjusted the sheet to better conceal Harry’s ‘private’ area. He then slowly straddled Harry’s legs, making certain that the thin material separated their skin. He avoided the piercing eyes that was watching his every movement, and leaned over to retrieve the jar of relaxant he had made just minutes ago. He poured a little into one hand, and then rubbed the two together, generously coating them both.

Severus placed his hands gently on Harry’s tense shoulders, rubbing them smoothly back and forth with the slightest pressure from his thumbs. That soft and yet subtle act alone caused the young wizard to flinch and Snape couldn’t help but glance up to Harry’s face. The boy was still watching him. He quickly focused his attention back to Harry’s sore arms, sliding both hands up and down one then across to the other. Without lifting his hands, he ran his palms over to the pale chest, carefully massaging only the muscles and intentionally avoiding his nipples. Severus’s hands were moving with such grace and agility, he wondered why his young husband hadn’t relaxed yet. But as his fingers went up Harry’s sternum, the young wizard finally spoke.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was a simple question to be sure, but not an easy one to answer. Severus knew exactly what Harry was referring to, which is why he chose to ignore it.

“You had said that your entire body hurt.”

Harry clenched his jaw. He knew that’s probably the only answer that he was ever going to get. He tried a different tact.

“Why are you behaving like this?”

That caught Severus off-guard. His hands abruptly stopped and he closed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell you something, Harry and I trust you not to tell anyone because we are in fact married.” Severus said with a serious tone his voice. “Do you know what would happen if a simple mistake was made during the making of a potion?”

It was a rhetorical question so Harry remained quiet and waited for the answer.

“The consequences of such a small error could result in a loss of life or the destruction of this school. Every potion must be carefully brewed, mixed and measured. It is a difficult skill and should be practiced with the utmost sincerity. I take it very serious and many ignorant fools do not.” He paused. “I am quite aware that I am not favoured among all the other teachers because I am strict, but I have justifiable reasons to be.”

“What does that have to do with...”

Severus held up a hand to silence him and continued. “Not many individuals know what I’m truly like in my private life because I chose not to reveal myself. It is my choice. That may sound cold, but again, that is my choice.” Severus cleared his throat and slowly began to stroke along the planes of Harry’s chest. “I’ve had a hard life, Harry and it’s been a long time since… I’ve done anything for anyone.”

“But you did – what you did – to me,” Harry said, his voice rising.

Snape remained silent for a moment. He closed his eyes briefly then carefully scooted down to massage Harry’s legs.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted.

“Do you expect me to forgive you?” he snarled.

Severus’s head shot up, his eyes meeting hardened green ones. “No I don’t and I don’t expect you ever will,” he lied.

“Good,” Harry hissed. “Because I don’t and I won't. Ever.”

The older husband flinched slightly, but Harry didn’t notice. He was too angry.

“Of course not,” Snape stated flatly.

He focused back to the tight muscles of Harry’s calves then moved down to the boy’s feet. Believing that they were finished, he looked up.

“Now, if you will allow me, I will tend to your…backside.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at that vague insinuation, but abruptly turned over. He felt the sheet move slightly to re-cover Harry’s lower spine and his bum. Severus’s hands were on him again - remoistened with oil - and began kneading his shoulders. Harry turned his face to the right and stared at the opposite wall.

How could he be so nonchalant about all of this? Harry thought bitterly. Does he honestly think that his reasons are justifiable?

Harry’s mind couldn’t even begin to fathom what Snape's true intentions were or – in Harry’s opinion – his lame and selfish motives. Just where was the consideration for him? It wasn’t mentioned and Harry doubted that it ever would be. It was all about Snape.

At that moment, he never felt so alone and so unloved.


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Severus took his time as he caressed, rubbed, and massaged - alternating between soft and firm. His strong fingers molded to Harry’s body and the lotion was rapidly becoming warm. Strange that it didn’t do this to his front. Perhaps his back needed extra attention. Perhaps that’s why he’s moving at a slower rate. Perhaps? But as Snape reached back up to his throat, Harry got his answer.

“Harry,” Severus began. “I never meant it to begin the way it did. I apologise. I know I should've waited.”

As Snape spoke, his hand loosened and was using just his fingers to lightly caress his skin. Harry’s eyes widened and softly gasped. He realised that something in the tone of Snape's voice was different. It was lower. Softer. Even the way his husband was touching him was different. Harry’s heart began to beat faster and suddenly felt the need to bolt.

“Stop! What are you...”

“I don’t have much experience with relationships, Harry,” Snape confessed. “But I was just so anxious to be with you.”

“What?” the young wizard exclaimed, raising his voice.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the slight grazing of his husband’s robe on his back. Before, Snape was up on his knees avoiding any form of contact and now he was leaning over him? How could he do this to him after what happened last night? Didn’t he care?

Harry willed his muscles to clench. To tighten. To move. But they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. He was too paralysed with fear and the ‘lotion’ was now embedded deep into his skin. Fucking bastard. Everything had completely relaxed him. Everything but his voice that is.

“What have you done to me? Why are you doing this?” he said, panicking.

“Harry.” Snape whispered in a voice that was thick and sultry. “I know I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. Please let me.” Snape's lips lightly feathered over Harry’s shoulder. “I need you.”

What? Harry’s mind cried. He needs me? What a self-absorbed…

Slowly, Snape parted his robe and lowered himself until his body completely covered Harry’s. The older wizard reached down and the thin material that separated them … was removed. Suddenly, Harry’s mouth flew open.

“No!” he cried as he felt the hardened flesh press against his bum. No answer. Only heavy breathing. Harry swallowed hard and tried again. “No,” he pleaded softly. “Don’t… Please don’t do this. Please.”

Snape's hips pushed down and murmured into the young wizard’s throat.

“Harry,” he whispered. “Please, don’t deny me…” Snape paused. “…my needs.”

With those six words alone, Harry instantly froze. This wasn’t part of the marriage ritual. This was part of the marriage contract!

…Maintaining regular but moderate marital sex…

And in his own vow, Harry had agreed.

…Because of this contract, you are allowed to take your pleasure by using me as a vessel…

And Snape wanted him to honour it! Right now!

Oh God! No! NO! How could he?

Harry’s eyes teared up, and tried desperately not to cry.


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Severus slid his body down Harry's, trailing kisses along the way. Harry’s upper half was now free to move, but he kept as still as possible. He’d be damned if Snape thought Harry would respond to anything he was planning to do to him. He wouldn’t give that bastard the satisfaction.

That’s it, Harry thought angrily. He’d just have to fuck a corpse.

Severus’s face hovered over Harry’s arse and licked the top of each one tenderly. He wedged the lower part of his arms between Harry’s legs, nudging for them to open. Harry complied. His legs trembled however as they were being pushed further apart so Snape's arms could fit comfortably in the centre. His hands settled on the bottom of both cheeks and the pads of Snape's thumbs slowly pulled them apart. Harry gasped. He didn’t know how much longer he could just pretend to play ‘dead’. Long fingers touched his cleft, causing another gasp to leave his parched throat. A wet tongue ran from his balls to his puckered entrance and it was then that Harry’s fear overwhelmed him.

“N-no. Please.” He hated how pathetic his voice sounded.

“Ssh, Harry. I swear I won't hurt you. I just want to make it up to you,” Snape whispered.

Yeah right, you selfish prick! his mind cried.

The tongue circled around Harry’s entrance a couple more times before burrowing just inside. Perhaps in another time and place – and with someone else – this particular act might have felt pleasant, but right now… it was vile. Harry could no longer keep his eyes open. He closed them tight and tried to imagine that he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Harry’s eyes shot open when Snape's tongue was removed and was replaced with a lubricated finger.

“NO!”

“Shh. I can't wait until you do this to me,” his husband purred as he crawled up Harry’s body – still leaving his finger inside.


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What happened after that was a blur to Harry. He had gone somewhere else and he was watching from the sidelines.

Harry was rolled on his side and his leg hooked behind Snape's. The one finger soon became two, then three, then finally…

Snape didn’t lie; it didn’t hurt this time, but the fear, the anguish, and the humiliation… was still the same. Especially the humiliation. And through it all, Harry’s skin burned as if it was on fire. It wasn’t from Snape's careful and patient administrations or even the lotion. It was the simple fact that he was being used.

His mind repeated a single thought.

…Because of this contract, you are allowed to take your pleasure by using me as a vessel…


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At some point, Harry found himself on his stomach and reality finally had appeared when a cool draft breezed over his wet and sticky back. Was it over? It had to be. Nothing was touching his body except for the drenched sheets lying underneath him. Harry continued to lay there unmoving. He didn’t even flinch when a hand rested on his hip and a warm presence came near and leaned against him. Dark green eyes just stared straight ahead at the distant wall.

“Harry,” a low voice whispered, panting fast and shallow. “Harry. I told you it would be all right. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you,” Severus breathed, running his hand along Harry’s spine. “I only wish that I could have pleasured you like you did me.”

Harry didn’t come. He didn’t even get hard.

“Come on. Let’s take a shower.”

The young wizard remained where he was until a firm hand pulled him up and off the bed. He let himself be guided into the bathroom, all the while staring at nothing. Harry’s body was numb and he was barely aware that he was being cleaned. He felt nothing. Not the water, the soap, the hands… nothing. He wondered if that made him nothing.

After he was dried off, they returned back to the bed where new clean sheets and duvet was waiting for them.

“Harry? Are you all right? You seem rather quiet.”

The young wizard wanted laugh. Not scream or cry, but laugh. So instead of answering, he crawled to the left side of the bed and slowly curled up, facing away from his husband. Harry didn’t flinch as he was covered, nor move when a tall body pressed against him. The lights flickered briefly before extinguishing, but Harry’s eyes remained open, staring blankly at the same wall. Sleep never came to Harry.


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Severus turned over on his back and stretched the length of his bed. He rubbed his face briskly then batted his eyes to adjust to the well-lit room. The candles were enchanted to light when the occupant …or occupants… awoke. Harry must be awake then. Snape rolled over and stroked Harry's arm under the duvet. Even though it was thick, his skin felt cold.

“Harry?”

Silence.

“Harry? Are you awake?”

More silence.

“Harry. It’s time for breakfast. We already missed lunch and dinner and we need to at least make an appearance. Plus you haven’t eaten since… well, since yesterday.”

Still no response, but there was the sound of heavy breathing. Severus gently turned Harry over and looked into the young man’s eyes. They were just as expressionless as the owner’s face. Snape ran the palm of his hand over Harry's cheek and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Harry,” he breathed into his mouth. “Don’t be nervous. There’s no reason to be. No one will say anything. I promise.”

Severus barely smiled, and to Harry, it looked strange on him. He watched Snape as he rolled over, stood and then began to dress. Harry still didn’t move but continued to watch him. After putting on his last piece of clothing, Snape sat down next to Harry and his eyes narrowed.

“Harry. Get up and get dressed. We’re going to be late,” he stated with a touch of annoyance.

Snape rose off the bed, taking Harry with him and Harry let him. The young man followed him to his new wardrobe closet and looked at it blankly then back to his husband. Severus took that as a sign that Harry didn’t know which outfit to put on. He didn’t understand the boy’s confusion because they were Harry’s old clothes. Severus sighed and picked out some for him, then handed them to Harry.

“These should work. Do you need any assistance?”

Harry shook his head. It was the first movement Harry had made by his own admission. Snape gave him a small smile. He stepped back and watched as his young husband go through the simple routine of dressing. Severus nodded at Harry when he was finished, then motioned with a tilt of his head to the door. They walked into the living area and made it as far as the entrance when Snape noticed that Harry wasn’t behind him. He was standing in the centre of the room.

“Harry,” Severus began as he approached him. “It’s all right. I told you. There's nothing to worry about. No one will say anything.”

Harry stared at him for a moment and then reluctantly complied.


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The Great Hall was alive with chatter. When Harry stepped through the main doors however, the room instantly became deafly quiet and hundreds of eyes focused in on The Boy-Who-Lived. Harry immediately bowed his head to conceal his reddened face, and briskly walked to his seat between Hermione and Ron. He still could feel everyone gawking at him as he gingerly sat down. Taking a few deep breaths, he placed his hands on his lap and waited. Harry heard the sounds of several whispers until others soon joined in and the Great Hall was filled once more with noise. He sighed in relief.

Harry timidly raised his head just enough to locate the pumpkin juice and poured himself a small glass. He knew he his classmates were observing every move he made. Even though they were talking amongst themselves, his knew the topic was about him. Harry’s embarrassment grew with each passing second. Suddenly, he wished he was still back in that atrocious bed. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at that thought.

“Hey mate,” Ron said, attempting to break the ice.

Harry glanced up and gave him a small fake smile then looked back to his plate. He hadn’t even touched it. He just wasn’t hungry.

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione tried.

He flickered his eyes up just long enough to see everyone at the Gryffindor table was watching him. He sighed.

“I’m fine,” Harry muttered, hoping that would satisfy everybody.

It didn’t.

“Harry,” Hermione began softly. “If there’s anything we can do…”

“I said I’m fine!” Harry barked.

The young witched gasped and quickly looked away. Ron frowned then put a hand on Harry’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Harry, we’re only…”

“Don’t touch me!” Harry screamed, jumping to his feet.

The occupants of the Great Hall froze. The young wizard stood there panting heavily, glaring down at his two best friends. His face was bright red and his fists were clenched tightly at his side. He scanned the room hatefully and then bolted out as fast as he could. Ron pulled on Hermione’s sleeve and gestured for them to follow. She shook her head frantically.

“Hermione. Come on. He may not say it, but he needs us.”

The young witch thought a moment before nodding once. Before leaving, both of them glanced at Snape. He gave them a curt nod. They quickly ran after Harry. Everyone in the large room was in a state of shock save one.

Draco Malfoy. He snorted at the retreating figures then turned and sneered at Professor Snape.


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