Secrets

Snape had never been so angry in his entire life. Vengeance coursed through his veins as he thought over the events of the last few nights. Without any announcement, Harry had begun sleeping in his quarters. Being in close proximity to one another had caused the magical bond between the two wizards to grow stronger. Snape began to see what Harry saw when he remembered, feel what he felt when he dreamt. The past few nights had been full of nightmares. During the day, Harry was able to function much like everyone else. It was the nighttime that haunted him now. His sleep was disturbed by excruciatingly accurate accounts of the abuse he had endured at the hands of his former guardians. Cries for help punctuated his dreams like sinister exclamation points. Begging for mercy from someone named Vernon, Harry would remain delirious even after being shaken awake. As an incognito death eater, Snape had seen just about every atrocity known to humankind, but what those muggles had done to Harry was completely unacceptable. They had caused damage to an innocent, something that even the dark lord was wary of doing. Their actions had hurt Harry in a way that might never heal.

To add insult to injury, the boy was practically useless sexually, not that Snape expected much of him. The older man simply got frustrated. It went like this, see. The pair would be cuddled on the couch, Harry leaning into Snape. Occasionally, they would kiss. The first time Snape had kissed Harry, however, he had tensed up and panicked. Instinctively, Snape had ceased kissing the boy, not wanting to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. This wasn’t what tore Snape up inside, though. What really aggravated him was that Harry thought that he had no right to stop Snape’s amorous advances. He swore up and down that he was ok when he was really trembling, told Snape that he could continue when the potions professor knew he couldn’t. The boy thought that he had to acquiesce to every one of Snape’s desires. Seeing Harry like that had driven Snape mad with rage. It infuriated him to have his lover be afraid of him, as if he too would hurt him.

He was going to kill those bloody muggles. At the very least, he was going to make their existence miserable. The way they had treated Harry was inexcusable.

That night, Snape gave Harry a dreamless sleep potion, hoping that it would allow the boy to sleep through the entire night. He lay by the boy as he drifted into a deep sleep. Once Harry’s breathing became soft and regular, Severus roused himself and cast a binding charm on Harry. Dressing in his darkest robes, he quietly exited the room and walked up to the fireplace. There was no way to apparate from Hogwarts. He could, however, get to the Durselys from his fireplace. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, he stepped into the fireplace.

“Number 4 Privet Drive,” he spoke softly. Feeling the familiar tug about his stomach, he was whirled from his own quarters into the eerily familiar living room of the muggles. He could see it all as if it were yesterday. The hallway remained unchanged from when he had rescued Harry. Every bloody detail was the same. It was as if the boy hadn’t ever been here. Silently, Snape stepped out of the fireplace and walked up the stairs, to where he knew the rooms would be. Turning towards the hallway at the top of the stairs, he saw immediately the doors he was looking for. He entered the master bedroom first, and watched for a moment as Harry’s uncle and aunt slept peacefully. Their faces looked relaxed, and it was hard to believe that such people could be so evil. Had Severus not heard Harry’s stories, seen his memories through their strengthening bond, he would not have believed these two people to be harmful. Deliberately, Snape moved to make a noise by picking up a vase and smashing it on the floor. It was time to begin.

Petunia awoke first, and screamed when she saw the large man standing in her bedroom. Vernon sat upright as if a fire cracker had gone off under his arse.

“What are you doing here,” demanded the man, “you have no right to be here in my house.”

“I am here,” spoke Snape sinisterly, “to exact my revenge.” Severely, he raised his wand and pointed it at the couple.

“What have we ever done to you,” cried Petunia, shielding herself with the blankets as if they would, in fact, stave off injury.

“You have,” Snape replied angrily, “irreparably damaged the one I care about most.” Before the pair could reply, Snape had taken a few steps toward the bed.

“Crucio,” he cried, aiming his wand straight at the couple, “you shall know his pain.”
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When Harry woke up the next morning, he found Severus lying in the bed beside him, just as he had been when the boy had drifted into sleep. Pleased, Harry snuggled into his arms. The boy’s movement roused Snape.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” the potions professor said.

“Morning,” replied Harry.

“You know,” said Snape, glancing at the clock, “if we get out of bed now we’ll just make it to lunch in time.” When the boy didn’t respond and instead nuzzled his head against Snape’s shoulder, Snape sighed and said, “besides, a certain boy I know has homework to do.” The older man sat up and gently shook Harry into alertness. Finally, the boy relented and sat up. Shyly, the boy looked at Snape and leaned in for a kiss. It would have seemed remarkably chaste to an onlooker, but to Snape, it was wonderful because the boy had initiated it.

Harry climbed out of bed and wandered to the bathroom. Snape knew what he would do today. His day would be full of homework with friends. He could see the trio now, sitting in overstuffed chairs, arguing over their homework assignments. Later, he would come back to Snape. The boy didn’t know, but Severus had invited Hermione to dinner. He knew that the boy had told her about them, and he wanted Harry to know that his friends were welcome in his quarters.

Feeling successful, the older man realized that Harry had no inkling of how he’d really spent his night. With his lover gone to do homework, he collapsed in exhaustion