The Death of a Soul

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Chapter Sixteen

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Because of Malfoy’s taunting, Harry was no longer upset. Nor was he embarrassed or humiliated. He became…angry. Again. And as his classes dragged on, it only intensified. Harry could still feel the blatant staring, but now it felt different somehow. At first he knew it was out of sheer curiosity, but now it appeared as if they’re looking at him with sympathy. Or worse…pity. That’s the last thing Harry wanted. He didn’t want their pity; he wanted their apology. They should be down on their hands and feet begging Harry for his forgiveness. Admitting their guilt. Anything but pity.

By the time Quidditch practice had arrived, Harry was absolutely livid. And it showed. On any normal practice day, he would’ve been able to catch the Snitch at least three times…if he was lucky. Today though, with his anger in full swing, he caught it five times…and his teammates noticed. They watched him more than what they were doing, and because of it, they performed poorly.

After practice, Harry ignored the constant stares and whispers and marched out of the changing room without showering. He couldn’t. Because that would mean he’d have to be naked. Exposed. And Harry wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s had enough of feeling vulnerable to last a lifetime. So he stormed back to his new ‘home’, and tore off his uniform piece by piece, tossing them everywhere. There was a dark figure sitting in front of the living room fireplace, but Harry was too furious to notice.

Harry made it to the bath, turned on the tap and hot water blasted out of the faucet. As the steaming water slid down his body, Harry felt a presence in the room. His husband. He grunted with disgust and began scrubbing his skin till it was raw. Finally rinsing off, Harry threw open the curtain and glared at Snape.

“You know it’s bad enough that I have to live you, but do you have to be around me every second of the day?” he snapped.

Calmly, Severus explained. “I need to talk with you…about last night.”

“And you couldn’t have waited till I was done?” Harry shouted as he grabbed a towel.

Snape sighed and nodded. “I’ll wait in the other room.”

Harry watched him, his eyes locked on the retreating figure. He quickly dried off, resisting his urge to go slowly so the bastard would have to wait. Now dressed in casual clothes, Harry storms in the adjacent room and folds his arms defiantly.

“Well?” he hissed.

“Harry, would you mind sitting?” Severus said, gesturing to the opposite chair.

Harry paused for a moment, wanting desperately to refuse. He scoffed and plopped down.

“Well?” he asked again.

Severus looked away and stared into the blazing fire. He took a deep breath then turned back to a pair of dark green eyes.

“I know what happened last night,” he stated simply.

“Oh, you mean why you felt the need to rape me?” Harry said bitterly.

“Would you let me finish?” Snape hissed and Harry’s eyes narrowed. “As I said, I know what happened. The lotion I made was supposed to heighten your senses and…” He stopped and glanced away.

“To turn me on?” Harry cried, disbelieving. “You used a tainted lotion on me? You…you...Bastard! How could you? How could you do that to me?”

“It was only meant to relax you!”

“Bollocks! You knew all along what it was going to do to me! Didn’t you?”

Snape clenched his teeth and a red tinge appeared on his cheeks. Harry raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“But it didn’t work, did it?” Harry surmised out loud. “It didn't work on me so it backfired,” he said, realising the truth. “It did, didn’t it?”

Severus turned back to the fireplace and took a deep breath. “Yes,” he admitted softly.

Harry abruptly stood up, fists bunching at his sides. “So is that your pathetic excuse? You force yourself on me and that’s the only excuse you have?” he snapped.

“I’m merely explaining to you why I behaved that way. I didn’t know that would happen,” Snape suddenly growled, irritated at the accusation. “That is not how I normally…make love.”

Harry started breathing fast and shallow. “For your information, you have to be in love with someone to make love. Don’t you dare tell me you made love to me because that was Not... Making… Love!”

“I know that,” Snape hissed. “And before your wild imagination carries you away, I am not in love with you. It’s only an expression.”

Harry stared at him intently then said in a low voice, “You will never touch me again. Do you hear me? Never.”

He continued staring at Snape and then marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


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Harry scanned Hogwarts grounds, making sure Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be found. He slid down his large tree and wrapped his arms around his legs, attempting to shut out the world. How could he do that? he thought bitterly. Wasn’t there something in the marriage contract that forbade the use of magical coercion? Harry tried to remember, but was drawing a blank. Maybe there was some way of obtaining a copy to find out.

Harry sighed and watched the sun slowly fading into the horizon.

“Ginny,” he whispered as a tear fell.


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Harry could no longer deny it. He was starving. Taking long, hurried strides, he made his way into the Great Hall in no time. He took a deep breath before entering, then held his head high and tried to ignore the hundreds of curious heads turning in his direction. He sat down in his usual seat and immediately began filling his plate with large portions of food. The tense silence surrounding him was unbearable. He decided to ‘play nice’.

“Hello, Ron. Hello, Hermione,” he acknowledged, nodding in their direction.

The young witch gasped in shock and Ron broke into a full grin.

“Hiya, mate,” the redhead said, smiling.

Harry tried his best to give a pleasant smile to them before nibbling on a few carrots. He inwardly sighed as he heard the familiar voices of his classmates beginning to start up again. Harry ate slowly, careful not to gorge himself. He knew that if he did, he’d get sick because he had gone so long without eating. He actually did learn something whilst living with the Dursleys.

“Harry? Are you…” Hermione began timidly, but stopped when she saw Harry wince. She tried something else. “Ron and I are going to Hogsmeade this weekend. Would you...erm...like to go with us?”

Harry closed his eyes and thought a moment. Looking over at her, he said quietly, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that, Hermione.”

She lowered her head and barely nodded.

“But thank you,” Harry said politely. “Maybe…another time?” he offered.

The young witch looked up and smiled softly. “Any time you’re ready, Harry. We’ll be here for you.”

She saw the way Harry flinch and instantly regretted her last words. Ron stepped in, changing the subject, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Harry. You were brilliant during practice! We’re sure to win against Slytherin Saturday!”

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table. His eyes fell on Malfoy. He was smirking at him and Harry’s anger came rushing back. “Yes, we will,” he said, sneering at the blond.


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When Harry returned to his ‘prison’ – as he calls it now – he told Severus that he refuses to sleep in the same room with him, let alone the same bed. They argued back and forth for several minutes. Harry finally won. He’d sleep on the sofa.

Days went by slowly for Harry but his anger never faltered. He paid less attention in class and his grades started to slip. He was even scolded by Professor McGonagall for not bringing his wand to class. It wasn’t that Harry forgot, he just felt less and less attached to it. And frankly, he didn’t care. In fact, Harry no longer cared about anything anymore. Not even Quidditch. Gryffindor lost to Slytherin 250 to 10. It was their worst game ever.

Harry slept more, taking naps after classes, ate less and barely spoke to anyone. Especially Snape. And Snape strangely enough, never tried to force him.

On the following Sunday, Harry headed back to his prison after a long, restful nap under his tree. He rounded the corner and stopped suddenly, hearing two familiar voices.

“What’s going on, Severus?” A low voice answered Albus. “I know it’s hard on you, but remember it’s hard on him, as well.” The low voice replied again. “You know as well as I do that I cannot change the Ministry’s decision. You have to be the one to help him. You have to take responsibility. It’s all up to you.”

Harry moved closer.

“I did not want this responsibility, Albus. He won't listen to me.”

‘What?’ Harry’s mind screamed. ‘What the hell?’

Dumbledore sighed. “Severus, if you don’t take care of this, I will.”

Harry could feel the heat rising from his husband. “I will take care of it.”

“I mean it, Severus,” Albus warned.

Silence.

Harry heard the sounds of fabric rustling and quickly hid in the shadows. He waited long enough for Dumbledore to be long gone and then heard the sound of a door being closed. Taking a few deep breaths, Harry stepped inside. Snape was not there. Suddenly, there was a loud knock and Harry jumped. Opening the door slowly, Professor McGonagall stood there with a stern expression.

“May I come in, Harry?” she said in a gruff voice.

Harry grit his teeth and motioned with his arms.

“He’s not here,” he said flatly as she walked passed him.

Stopping halfway in the room, she turned to face Harry.

“Actually I’m here to speak to you, Harry.”

The younger wizard braced himself for the worst. He waited.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to answer, Minerva began. “Frankly, I’m concerned about you.”

“Professor, forgive me, but we already had this discussion a few day ago,” he said slowly, careful not to raise his voice.

“I’m here as your friend, Harry. Not as your teacher.”

Harry inhaled deeply and briefly closed his eyes. “There's nothing further to talk about,” he said firmly, hoping that that would be the end of the discussion, but knew in his heart it wasn’t. “Now would you please excuse me, but I have things to do,” he said turning away.

“Like what, Harry?” Snape asked from the back of the room.

His young husband whipped around. “Where the hell did you come from?” he exclaimed.

“You haven’t done anything lately. So what is so important that demands your attention now?” Severus said dryly.

“What’s it to you?” he snapped then turned to Minerva. “And you? Why do you two care what I do?”

“Harry, we do care. Obviously, you do not,” Snape added sarcastically.

“You’re right. I don’t. Why should I?” Harry spat.

“Harry, your grades are suffering. If this keeps up, you will fail all your classes and you’ll leave school with nothing. Is that really what you want?” McGonagall inquired.

The younger wizard began pacing. “So this is what's all this is about. My grades? I knew it! You don’t give a fuck about me!”

“Harry,” the older witch warned, referring to his language.

“That’s all I’m good for, isn’t it? Graduating and defeating Voldemort!”

“Stop with the dramatics, Potter. Frankly, I'm tired of it,” Snape said, exhaling in exasperation.

“Oh, its Potter now, is it?” Harry snapped.

“Potter,” Minerva began, trying to made her voice calm. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you risk…”

“My life? This not my life. I did not choose this life. I…”

“Enough!” Snape shouted. He took a deep breath then turned to McGonagall. “Minerva, would you please excuse us?”

Not adverting her glare from Harry, she replied sharply, “Yes, of course.”

She left briskly, leaving the couple alone with their private battle. Now Severus began to pace.

“Do you think that the whole world revolves around you? Do you think you're the only one who’s suffering?”

“I heard,” he replied bitterly.

Snape spun around. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard,” Harry repeated. “You and Dumbledore. Just a few minutes ago.”

Severus slowly approached him. “And what, pray tell, did you hear?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Harry sensed that he was suddenly nervous. He smirked at the fact that he had the upper hand.

“What responsibility do you have? What exactly do you have to take care of?”

Snape looked away, focusing on the fireplace and sighed. “Have you noticed a change in your magic?”

“What? What does that have to do with…”

He snapped his head back over to Harry. “Just answer the question!”

Harry thought a moment. “So what if I have?”

“Damn it,” Snape muttered.

“You fucking prick! You said you wouldn’t keep anything from me, you fucking liar!”

Severus clenched his jaw and walked around the couch he’d been standing by and stood in front of him.

“Do you really want know the truth?” he hissed.

“Just tell me! And tell me everything!”

“The truth is that we will slowly lose our magic if we do not continue to…”

“Fuck?” Harry yelled almost hysterically.

“Yes,” Snape growled.

Harry's mouth fell open. “You said…”

“I know what I said,” he bit back. “Do you think I like this anymore than you do?”

Harry stepped closer and leaned his face in. “Yes, I do,” he challenged. “I bet you’re loving this.”

Severus and Harry locked gazes.

“You fucking bastard.”


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Harry couldn’t sleep that night. He stared absently at the wall the entire time. Snape was gentle, taking extra care in Harry’s comfort. It wasn’t rushed nor was it painful. But it still was humiliating. Like before, Harry didn’t come. And again, Harry didn’t even get an erection. He sighed when he felt the bed shift.

“Harry,” Severus said softly, turning on his side. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I just… I didn’t want it to be like this. I wanted…” Harry cringed. “I meant what I said before. You can do anything you want. Anything.” He paused briefly. “Harry, I don’t want you to change. I do care about you and I care about what happens to you.

“I know this is not easy for you. I know that. But I’m here to help you.” Severus paused again. “Harry,” he whispered. “Please don’t give up.”

Harry remained quiet, but froze when a warm body slid up next him and pulled him close.

“Please, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and tears silently fell.


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