Smoke & Mirrors

Chapter 14 Welcome Back

Harry's heart was thudding painfully fast. He quickly lit the candles and, his hands shaking, managed to remove Snape's cloak to reveal the broken shaft of an arrow sticking out of his thigh. Snape had wrapped some cloth around it to help keep it still and control the bleeding, but the wrapping had evidently come loose during his exertions on the bed. Harry took hold of the arrow, and then hesitated. Would pulling it out make things worse? He daren't leave Snape, but he had to have help.

Holding the cloth firmly against Snape's thigh to stop the bleeding, Harry called "Dobby – come quickly!" After what seemed like hours but could only have been a few minutes, the house-elf appeared with a faint pop, rubbing his knuckles into his huge eyes and yawning.

"Does Harry Potter want breakfast already?" Dobby asked sleepily, but then squeaked in dismay as he caught sight of Snape. The house-elf moved closer and examined the arrow shaft. "It is a centaur's arrow, sir! Professor Snape has strayed into the Forbidden Forest and that is very dangerous – there are rumours the centaurs are up in arms again."

"He must've come through the Forest after seeing Professor Flitwick, he probably thought there'd be less chance of anyone seeing him that way," Harry said distractedly. "Look, Dobby, can you get up to the castle quick as you can and ask Firenze to come and help? If anyone can deal with a wound from a centaur's arrow, he can."

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"You did well to send for me, Harry Potter, for there are enchantments laid upon a centaur's arrow which none but a centaur may break." Firenze swished his tail from side to side, stretched out his hand and placed it on the arrow. Eyes closed, he seemed deep in meditation for a while, then he took some herbs from a small bag slung around his neck and sprinkled them along the wooden shaft where it protruded from Snape's leg. The centaur passed his hands over the arrow and murmured a few words. Harry shouted with surprise and lunged forward as the arrow's shaft burst into flames, but Firenze easily held him back.

The flames died down and a sweetly-scented smoke drifted up. When it cleared, the remains of the arrow had vanished, leaving just a dark, hoof-shaped scar. Snape's eyelids flickered, then opened; his black eyes stared expressionlessly up at Harry and the centaur.

"I must leave," Firenze said abruptly. "It is not well for me to be so close to the Forbidden Forest: I am still banished from my herd. They have more reason than ever to hate wizardkind now a voyeuristic wizard has come to their neighbourhood: any who enter the Forest are in danger, as this shows –" laying his hand on Snape's thigh. "The human will recover in time, but you must tend him carefully, Harry Potter." He reached into his bag again and placed a bundle of dried herb sprigs beside the fireplace. "Burn one or two of these and let him breathe the fumes if he faints again, but use them sparingly," he told Harry.

As Harry let Firenze out of his cabin he couldn't help noticing that the centaur was hung like – well, like a horse. He blushed as he remembered his eleven-year-old self riding out of the Forbidden Forest on Firenze's back, and wondered what it would feel like to ride him now. Snape saw him looking and tightened his thin lips.

"Extending our fan-club to other species, are we?" Snape asked sourly. "Oh, I forgot – you already have."

"What?" Harry said indignantly, closing the door behind the centaur. "I was only LOOKING. And you might've got your rocks off just now, but I didn't get much out of it." He saw the look on Snape's face and was instantly contrite. "Oh Severus, I'm sorry – I just meant –"

He hastily climbed onto the bed and took his lover in his arms. Between kisses, Harry whispered "Oh, I've missed you so much. Oh, welcome back. Oh Severus. Oh."

Snape gently took hold of Harry and murmured "Can't do much... but can do... this" as he thoroughly explored the young man's genitals with his long, sensitive fingers before starting a leisurely circular motion of his palm against the head of Harry's cock. It wasn't long before Harry was gasping in abandonment, thrusting eagerly into his lover's hand and coating it with his spunk. "Ah... lovely..." he breathed.

They lay together in deep contentment for a long time. At last Harry murmured "What did you mean about me, er – 'extending my fan-club' to other species?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "Oskar Hinzel?" he said softly.

"That wasn't my fault!" Harry said hotly. "The scent of that arse potion you gave me turned him on so much he tried to jump me: that's why I left."

"He claims you led him on..." accused Snape, staring hard into Harry's eyes before sinking back with a satisfied smile "...but I see he was exaggerating."

"Anyway," Harry said "how come you were so long at Durmstrang? I thought that Wizarding Moot was supposed to be over ages ago. I was beginning to worry our Ministry of Magic arrested you – they knew you were going there, after all."

Snape gave a weak but unmistakably contemptuous snort. "Nobody from our Ministry of Magic was invited."

"What about that department Percy used to work for – International Magic Cooperation, or something?"

"A joke." Snape was dismissive. "Yes, Durmstrang has advantages... it is unplottable, and they are very careful about issuing invitations."

"Good place for hiding out, huh?" Harry said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. "Even from me?" he murmured, too quietly for Snape to hear.

"Not just for that ..." Snape hesitated. "I've been offered a job there." He rolled over, his back to Harry. "Teaching Dark Arts," he mumbled quietly into the pillow.

Harry shot up in bed. "WHAT! Dark – ? Oh, you mean Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"No, I mean the Dark Arts themselves. Durmstrang has a much more ... how shall I describe it ... enlightened policy towards the Dark Arts than Hogwarts has."

That wasn't how Harry would have described it. And if first Dumbledore and then McGonagall had felt it inadvisable for Snape to teach even Defence against the Dark Arts ... except for one short year ... and look how THAT had turned out! Harry thought bitterly –

"I haven't accepted yet," Snape offered, turning back to gaze earnestly at Harry.

"But you're considering it, aren't you?" Harry fumed.

"Yes ... " Snape's voice trailed off weakly.

There was a lot more Harry wanted to say, but his lover had (conveniently for him!) lapsed into a deep sleep. Harry sighed, blew out the candles, and settled down beside him.

*********************************

It was late the following morning when Dobby reappeared, carrying two trays – Harry's usual winter breakfast of sausages, bacon, fried eggs, fried tomatoes, buttered toast, marmalade and coffee – and a smaller 'convalescent breakfast' as he put it. He placed both trays on the bed, waking its occupants in the process.

“I thought house-elves were supposed to be unobtrusive,” Snape said coldly, watching Dobby use his favourite Hover charm to send a succession of heavy logs flying off their pile beside the fireplace to flop down onto the thick, soft cushion of yesterday's ashes. Clouds of woodash rose into the air.

“It's OK, Dobby,” Harry said, trying not to laugh. “I'll do the fire.” But the conscientious house-elf insisted on lighting the fire, cleaning the congealed blood from the floor and tidying the lovers' discarded clothing before he left.

“Now, time for your nice convalescent breakfast!” Harry said with a badly-concealed grin.

"I'm not a bloody invalid!" Snape growled, but had to submit to Harry's help in hauling him up in bed and propping him against the pillows. "Well, maybe I'm not quite at my peak, but –"

He was silenced by Harry popping a spoonful of scrambled dragon's egg into his mouth. "This'll soon put hairs on your chest," Harry said cheerfully.

"Will you stop that, Potter," Snape said in exasperation. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself." Ignoring the dragon's egg, arrowroot, and beef tea, he helped himself to Harry's toast and marmalade, but had to accept the younger wizard's help in holding his coffee cup steady before he spilled the scalding hot liquid all over the bed.

The rather messy breakfast ended with Harry licking marmalade off Snape's chest. "Dobby can change the sheets, I'm not licking those," he said, picking up the Daily Prophet from his breakfast tray and heading for Hagrid's primitive, over-large privy out in the yard.

Perched on the worn wooden seat, he stared absently out over the half-door into the snow-covered Forest, falling into a pleasant reverie about Severus Snape's return... He was brought back to the present by Snape's querulous tones floating through the open back door.

"Are you going to be out there all day, Potter? Reading the newspaper in the lavatory... filthy Muggle habit..."

Harry grinned, and glanced down at the Prophet's headlines. "They don't seem to be reporting the search for us suspected murderers anymore, wonder why?" he called back cheerfully.

"Probably because the Auror Office hasn't been able to find a corpse," replied Snape, then lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

"It is a little odd there hasn't been any trace of Quercus's body in all these months," he continued, when Harry eventually returned to the cabin.

"That's because he's not dead," Harry said gloomily. "He's hiding here, in the Forbidden Forest, in his animagus form – he's a squirrel." He slapped himself on the forehead with the rolled-up Prophet. "And – yeah – I bet that's what Firenze meant about a voyeur wizard upsetting the centaur herd, he's probably been watching them fucking! Just like him, the bastard!"

"Does he know the secret of this hut?" enquired Snape, looking worried.

"Nah, I don't trust him enough for that," Harry said. "For all I know, he might be playing a double game."

"Well done," Snape said drily. "At last you're starting to think like a Slytherin."

"Hmm," Harry said, not at all sure that this was a compliment.

"I must have a word with young Quercus, before the centaurs catch him and trample him to death," Snape said, pushing back the bedclothes and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hey, careful," Harry said, worried, as Snape stood up, took a staggering step or two, then suddenly crashed to the floor.

Harry grabbed a sprig of the herb Firenze had left, thrust it into the fire until it ignited, then waved the aromatic smoke under Snape's hooked nose.

Snape drew a wavering breath and opened his eyes. "Weaker - than - I - thought - " he gasped. "Have - to - make - Blood - Re - plen'shing - po - tion -"

"Let's get you back into bed," Harry said gently, pointing his wand at Snape. "Mobilicorpus!" He carefully manoeuvred his lover onto the bed, and tucked the bedclothes around him. Snape fumbled for his own wand, and tapped it against the back of Harry's hand. A feeble, almost illegible, scrawl appeared there.

"What the fuck's this?" Harry asked, examining his hand.

"Ingredients for the potion I need," Snape said weakly. "I would brew it myself, but I'm not strong enough... unfortunately. You will have to make it here... under my direction. You should find most of the things you need in my old office."

"Well, you'd better give me some incantation or other to get in – I'm not fucking that doorknob again."

Snape raised an eyebrow and smirked, but said nothing.

"Come on," Harry said, starting to get annoyed: "Don't tell me that's how you usually get into your office!"

"Of course not. That would be most... undignified."

"Give me a PROPER way past your wards or I'm not going, you can whistle for your Blood-Replenishing potion," Harry said firmly.

"Oh, but I'd prefer you to use the... improper way," Snape said softly. "I'd love another dream like the one I had the night you broke in." They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. "Oh, very well," he capitulated, tapping Harry's palm with his wand. "Use this incantation... but be sure nobody hears you."

"Yeah, wouldn't do for Draco bloody Malfoy to find out how to get past the spell... he very nearly did that night you know, just before me – only your doorknob wasn't quite as, er, accommodating for him."

"Ah," said Snape, leaning back on the pillows with a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. "That would explain the... other dream I had."

********************

Muttering crossly under his breath, Harry swept through the shelves in Snape's office like a tornado, hurling items into a small cauldron with satisfyingly loud noises and taking the occasional glance at the list on the back of his hand. "Other dream – CLANG – bloody cheek – CLATTER – sauce for the goose – CLANG – sauce for the gander – BOING – has the nerve to go on about MY fan club – CRASH – oops, hope there's some more of that – ah, good – THUD – cheeky sod – BANG – just wait till he's better, beat the crap out of him –"

But Harry's spiky mood changed abruptly when he got back to the hut to find Snape once more lying unconscious on the floor.

"You'll have to stop passing out on me," he said, after bringing his lover round again and reinstalling him in the bed. "Stay in bed until I've fixed the potion, OK?"

"I had to go out to relieve myself... must've blacked out on my way back," muttered Snape. "Did you get the potion ingredients?"

"Yeah, well, nearly all of them," said Harry, glancing into the cauldron he'd brought back from Snape's office, and checking off its contents against the back of his hand. "There's one or two you hadn't got... but I expect Hermione can get them for me from Professor Slughorn, she's still a star member of the Slug Club." I hope she visits me soon, or I'll have to go looking for her he thought, looking worriedly at Snape's drawn features.

But in fact Hermione arrived during her lunch break, having been told by Professor Flitwick, in strict confidence, that Snape had returned. She hadn't, however, heard about the centaurs' attack on him, and was shocked to see him lying fast asleep, even more pale and haggard than usual. Harry quickly explained what had happened. "And I've got to brew the Blood-Replenishing potion – maybe you could help me? Oh, and I'm still one or two ingredients short, do you think you can sweet-talk the Slug into letting you have them?"

"Of course I'll help," Hermione said warmly. "Let me have a list of what you're short of... I'll tell Professor Slughorn I need them for a research project. I expect you'll want to get Professor Snape back on his feet as soon as possible."

"Yeah, he's a dreadful patient," Harry said. "Won't do as he's told, keeps trying to get out of bed and collapsing."

"As bad as Ron," Hermione said, trying to smile.

"Hasn't Madam Pomfrey let him out of the hospital wing yet?"

"She was going to, but then he got into a fight with one of the Slytherin Quidditch players in there... she's mended their broken noses, but she's insisting on keeping them both in; more as a punishment than anything, I think."

Harry was so euphoric about his reunion with his difficult, tantalising and gloriously sexual lover that he wanted his friends to be as happy as he was. "Er, Hermione," he said. "Is it Ron for you? Or Viktor Krum?"

Hermione sighed. "Up until the summer I'd have said Ron, definitely," she said. "But he's been so vile about Malfoy – as though I enjoyed what I had to do to get that Portkey – and it makes things worse that all three of us are together in some of the NEWT classes now. That's why I'm trying to get through the work as quickly as possible. Malfoy keeps winding Ron up and Ron keeps calling me horrible names..."

"He doesn't mean it, it's just he gets so jealous sometimes, and that owl of Percy's didn't help," Harry said. "Ron's the first to jump to your defence, really."

Hermione sniffed, and pulled out her handkerchief. "It's sweet of you to say so, Harry, but I've not noticed him do much defending recently."

"Of course he has!" Harry said. "Look, Ron only tried to strangle Kreacher because he started slagging you off!"

"Really?" Hermione asked doubtfully, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, Kreacher said - uh - soon everyone will see my master willingly ravished by dozens of Dark wizards, flaunting his naked body for all to see – just like the Mudblood witch Granger – sorry Hermione – and that last bit made Ron go berserk, he yelled Liar! and grabbed the little scrote's neck. It wasn't me he was defending, Hermione, it was YOU."

"Oh!" Hermione said, turning pink with pleasure. "Well! Of course he shouldn't attack house-elves, but still..." Then she suddenly looked sharply at Harry. "But what did Kreacher mean about you being ravished by Dark wizards?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose I'd better tell you... I've been keeping quiet about it... and for God's sake don't tell anyone else..." And he recounted all Quercus had said about creating a realistic memory of one of the most pornographic of Harry's wet dreams, and that the only thing still lacking was a Pensieve. "And if they get hold of one," Harry finished bitterly "soon the whole wizarding world will be able to watch me being fucked senseless by a bunch of Dark wizards and looking like I'm enjoying every minute of it."

Hermione gasped, her hand to her mouth. "Oh dear! Does Professor Snape know about this?" she asked.

"Not yet, I didn't –" Harry began, but was interrupted by a dry voice from the bed.

"He does now."

TBC >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>