Down On Your Knees

Tile: Down on Your Knees

Author: Exis* Exis_@hotmail.com

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snap War Warnings: This fic will contain M/M sex....Gay sex. For those who don't like that, you should go away now. It will also highlight a love affair with a teacher so if that makes you unhappy, scram. I haven't finished writing it, but you should assume that it will have spoilers from ALL FOUR BOOKS.....if that displeases you, you can go away as well. My last warning is that this is my virgin slash fic, and my virgin Harry Potter fic. I haven't the slightest clue whether it's horrible, and I'd like to pretend it's not....

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, nor am I making any money off this. You know the drill, I won't elaborate.

Dedicated: To my Lovely Beta Tealish. Thanks for your patience, and your trust. And also to ALL THE RAVENCLAWS OUT THERE.......the greatest hero's go unnoticed...and also to the people who put me on their favorites list.....this is for you.......

Archive: Anywhere you want to....just mail me to let me know'

THE STORY SO FAR: I know it's been a long time since I put out the last chapter, so here's what’s going on in case you've forgotten the story line: Harry defeats Voldemort using an evil, old curse that puts him in trouble with the Ministry. He admits he's in love with Severus, and they sleep together. Severus kicks Harry away from him, trying to save the boy's reputation so he can overcome the backlash of the curse. Harry goes into hiding. Severus finds Harry, and makes Harry tell everyone. The Ministry takes Harry into custody, and Fudge tries to kill him, but Percy saves him. Dumbledore gives him the DADA job, and Harry goes to Hogwarts. Severus and Harry aren't speaking, and Remus has figured out that they are in love.


"There's blood on every bracelet.
You can see it. You can taste it.
But she comes to you, light as the breeze.

Now you can drink it, or you can nurse it
It don't matter how you worship.
As long as you're down on your knees."

Chapter 16 "How you worship"


Remus didn’t recall ever having been quite this frustrated in his life. After his not-quite-so-amazing revelation of the almost-affair between his almost-godson and the Hogwarts Potions Professor, almost nothing seemed normal anymore. Remus now watched them constantly, looking for the subtle clues that they occasionally dropped. However, in his doing this, Harry and Severus now avoided each other more, if that was humanly possible. Being in the same room was obviously torture, and they adamantly avoided each other at meals and staff meetings. It quickly became apparent that things weren’t going to come together if left like this, and Remus decided a direct approach might be necessary. But, if he thought he would have more luck on that path, he was wrong.
He started with Harry, since he was closest to Harry and he had a little bit of an idea as to how Harry’s mind worked. Remus started simply, bringing up Snape causally in conversation and dropping subtle hints, but Harry wouldn’t take the bait. Remus tried asking about what Harry did on his ‘sabbatical,’ as they referred to it, but no matter how many questions he asked, Harry would say nothing that even remotely pointed towards the Potions Master. Remus found it slightly ironic how well Harry had gotten at feigning ignorance. He ventured to guess that it was a practiced skill, learned from seven years of being accosted in potions, but Remus doubted that either of them would have imagined that the skill would be used like this. If Remus never heard the phrase “I have no idea what you’re talking about” again, it would be too soon.
After failing with Harry, Remus decided to try Snape. However, this brilliant scheme didn’t last very long. First, there was the logistical problem that Snape never socialized with anyone, aside from some much too infrequent meals. On top of that, Remus quickly learned that he would need a strategic battle plan to get near his personal quarters. Apparently, after having both Harry and himself drop in, Snape had strengthened his wards, and as good of a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as he was, he didn’t even want to begin to try and fight his way through that mess.
Remus played with the idea of trying to catch him in his office, but that didn’t seem like a good plan either. Interrupting Severus while he was working was a mistake no one made twice, and Remus wanted to talk, not be thrown out violently. It seemed that there were just no roads to take. The whole situation made Remus more morose than he cared to admit. It seemed so unfair to both of them, and being a Gryffindor, he had a hard time just standing by, watching them perpetuate their own misery. But, as Christmas approached, Remus realized that was exactly what he’d have to do. There was no helping them until they decided they were ready to be helped. He would just have to let things play out, and maybe give them a little push in the right direction if the situation arose. Yes, that seemed like a good plan, even if it wasn’t a comforting one. Watch and wait... watch and wait.

~*~

“Harry,” Remus called, as the children filed quickly out of the room. It was the last class on the day before the winter break, and the long awaited respite was finally within their reach. “Aren’t you going to Ron and Hermione’s for Christmas?”
“No, there’s a staff meeting, remember?” Harry said quickly, piling a few books into a case.
“It’s voluntary, you don’t have to go,” Remus countered, looking appraisingly at the way that Harry shuffled the papers.
“I know that, but I don’t want them to think poorly of me, as I’m brand new,” Harry said. Remus saw right through the obvious excuse.
“Harry,” Remus said, in that low, sharp tone that parents use to scold insolent children. Harry lifted his head slightly, giving Remus a chilled look, and blinking slowly, as if he took no notice as to what his mentor was implying. Remus sighed deeply, as if he was trying to sort out an impossible calculus equation.
“You should go to Ron and Hermione’s...” Remus started, hoping that his command would be enough, but really knowing otherwise.
“I’ve all ready told them I’m not coming, and...”
“You know they wouldn’t mind...”
“... I like Christmas at Hogwarts, plus...”
“… No one expects you to...”
“... I have the third year essays to...”
“... Sirius and I won’t be upset…”
“... I don’t have time to shop…”
“... It’s not healthy for someone as young as you to be cooped up...”
“Maybe I just don’t want to go,” Harry finally interjected with force. Remus paused and clasped his hands together in front of him. Harry looked defeated, having had his secret brought to the surface. He turned away from the older man and quickly gathered up the rest of the things. He silently wondered when running away had become such a natural impulse to him.
“You can’t keep turning away from them, Harry. They love you, and they’re worried about you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Harry snipped, shuffling together the last of the papers.
“Then why do you keep pushing away the people who want to help you?” Remus exclaimed, as Harry walked past him towards the classroom door, the frustration lining his voice. Harry stopped and the briefcase fell against his leg. He turned slowly and looked with sad, unfocused eyes in the general direction of the werewolf.
“I am not turning away, I’m stepping aside,” Harry said quietly, looking blank. “Because while I was busy fighting, Ron and Hermione fell in love, all the other Weasleys paired off to produce multiples of red-headed children, you and Sirius fell back in love, Seamus and Dean settled down, and even Malfoy ended up with someone.” Harry chucked a little and looked up at Remus.
“I know that I am welcome anywhere, but I just want to be home for Christmas, and Hogwarts is the closest thing to a home that I have.” Harry shrugged a little, and Remus looked distant, but attentive. He couldn’t help but think that the war had cost Harry entirely too much. It hurt something deep inside him to hear how disconnected Harry felt from his friends. Remus’s silence felt like dead weight on his all ready exasperated mind.
“Well, I’m going home,” Remus said finally, putting his hands in the pockets of his slate gray robes that made him look older than he was, and more tired, if that was possible. “Sirius and I are going to have a quiet Christmas in the new apartment. We assumed you’d be going...” Remus trailed off and sat down at the desk, taking his eyes off Harry and focusing his attention on the paperwork.
Harry nodded and took his cue, slipping silently out of the classroom. Remus stared with unfocused vision at one paper after another. The words dribbled together and ran themselves out of his brain. Empathy was a terrible affliction, Remus decided, leaning against the desk. He walked the razor’s edge between anger at Harry’s actions, and sympathy for his pain. He wondered how it was possible to be caught between wanting to hug the boy and curse him into the next decade.
‘Because everyone’s being punished, even after it’s over,’ his mind reminded him. Voldemort still haunted Harry, even after his death. Seven years of running and fighting and praying left its mark, right along side the lightning-shaped one on his forehead. And Harry was punishing himself for everything, which really tipped the scales towards injustice. Because, as he punished himself, he punished everyone else along with him. And now Harry was going to spend Christmas here, alone, with the broken children and the few strung out staff members that remained. At least Minerva was staying this year. Two of the Heads of House had to stay every year, just to preserve order. There was never really a fight, since Snape never went...
Snape. How could he be so dense? Snape ALWAYS stayed for Christmas, even when they were in school. It always struck Remus as funny, considering the Snape’s were old money and must have had some gothic monstrosity of a mansion somewhere. Suddenly Harry’s speech made perfect sense to Remus, and he regretted being so harsh with the boy. Harry must have ulterior motives for wanting to stay. One thing Remus had learned about being in love was that a little bit of the time with the right person would be far better than a weekend with everyone but him.
Remus realized it was too late to go chase Harry down and apologize, since Sirius would be meeting him in minutes so they could Apparate. No, it would have to wait till after the holiday. And who knew what could happen between now and then?

~*~

But strangely, Harry’s reasons for staying had nothing to do with the wayward Portions Professor. Really, they had nothing to do with anything. For the first time in his life, Harry was free to make his own choices for his holiday destination, and he was exercising this by not making choices. He had meant what he said about staying out of his friends’ lives, but he had neglected to mention them staying out of his. He was staying put, relishing in the freedom from his friends’ and family’s questions and noise. Silence was blissful and intoxicating to him, ringing through his chambers easily and sedating.
Christmas passed uneventfully. The perhaps exceedingly large pile of gifts under the tree in his quarters was opened casually, and for once Harry didn’t have to pretend to be ecstatic over the occasionally tacky gifts. ‘Ahh, the joys of thank you cards,’ Harry mused, as he threw the “Condensed Version of the Works of Gilderoy Lockheart” into the pile, and silently wondered what had possessed Lavender to purchase the thing. He had even gotten a few gifts from the staff. Minerva had given him a Gryffindor banner for his new living area, and Dumbledore had sent him a pair of bright turquoise pants. Harry mused as to why the Headmaster had chosen that particular gift, but the logical side of his mind reminded him that dwelling on the Headmaster’s reasonings got you no further than a headache. Harry dropped the issue, and picked up the next box.
Harry really didn’t leave his rooms till the late afternoon on Christmas Day. The children were busy playing with their new items, and most of the staff would also be preoccupied in a similar manner. Instead Harry spent the time responding to some owls from the Ministry, confirming some details that were missing or challenged regarding Voldemort’s ascent and descent. Apparently they were compiling a blow-by-blow account of the war, for reasons which surpassed Harry’s realm of understanding.
Harry had a sneaking suspicion that most of the things he wrote wouldn’t be printed, as they were the truth, and the ministry tended to shy away from using the truth whenever possible. Instead, Harry could almost recite the story the ministry would tell. Voldmort would be criminally insane, instead of cold and calculating. The Death Eaters would most likely be equally disturbed, evil Slytherins, instead of the lost, disillusioned children they really were. And the Aurors would be the heroes, winning the war single-handedly under the tight supervision of the Ministry. All the work of everyone else would be condensed to a few vague phrases, and Harry would be hailed as a poster child hero. Of course, all the information about Fudge and his true loyalties would never see the printing press. Harry could see it all clear as day, and it made him wonder why he even bothered to tell the truth when the lies were already written.
Once his quill was tired of singing across the paper, Harry stretched and rose carefully from his chair. He meandered out of his tiny room and down the hall towards the South Commons. Harry always thought it was such a shame that the students didn’t use the whole castle, choosing to remain cooped up in the House Common Rooms and the Great Hall. If they explored a little, they would most assuredly find that there were little pockets of wonder scatted precariously around the building, and anyone with a little curiosity could find them. The South Commons was one of these pockets, as it held fantastic gardens and comfortable seats. It was the perfect place to study, and as far as Harry knew, no one else ever went down there. Curling up on a soft bench, Harry watched leaves fall from the trees inside the tiny eco-dome. He paged loosely through a book and read quietly until his eyes became heavy and sleep-filled. He nodded off till dinner.
Christmas dinner also passed uneventfully. Severus stayed in his quarters, as he had done for the entire Christmas holiday, but everyone else was there, partaking in the cheer of the season. Dumbledore had once again over-decorated the hall, and red and green flooded the room, whilst little pieces of mistletoe were hung in random places. The food was superb, and, surprisingly, everyone had a good time. Even the leftover children seemed in high spirits. It seemed as though Christmas had given light to the world in a way that it desperately needed. It felt right to just inhale the light, and for once not question where it came from and what he would have to pay for it later. And that, in and of itself, was a Christmas gift.

~*~

The staff meeting was held on New Year’s Eve. Harry thought it was peculiar to do it then, but then again, Dumbledore’s scheduling could never really be counted on to be logical anyway. At nine o’clock they all meandered into a conference room located off from the Hospital Wing. Surprisingly, most of the staff was still away, most likely partaking in the celebrations at hand, and consuming more than a fair share of champagne. New Year’s had never been one of Harry’s favorite holidays anyway, so he really wasn’t missing anything.
Taking a seat next to Minerva, Harry casually sat down and looked around the room. Staff meetings were never very interesting, as Harry wasn’t technically a staff member, filling in when Remus was ‘sick.’ He kept most of his opinions to himself, unless it was something involving information that he was especially privy to. This didn’t happen often, and the holiday staff meeting was no exception. The whole thing could be summed up by McGonagall shouting down a list full of complaints and concerns, and Snape (who had stopped lurking in the dungeons just long enough to attend) countering all the allegations. Dumbledore acted as a referee, though Harry thought he must have heard all of this a hundred times by now. Finally, in the end they decided on nothing, with Dumbledore making vague promises to keep an eye on things and to watch more carefullhat hat seemed to be enough for the Deputy Headmistress, but Snape looked displeased - though you could really say that about him at any given time, regardless of the circumstances. Harry spent most of the evening avoiding the other man’s gaze.
Finally the meeting ended, and Harry left quietly, feeling a little alien. He slipped silently back into his own rooms and shut the door quietly behind him. He had spent an hour and a half listening to those two people talk (though admittedly, most of the talking was done by Minerva), and that had taken all his energy and sanity. He smiled to himself, thinking of the day when he might be the one yelling and screaming his way through the meeting.
Harry glanced at the Muggle clock situated in the corner of the room. It was almost eleven o’clock. His eyes fell on the papers stacked on his desk, waiting for his red inkprints and he felt the bile rise up in his throat. No, correcting was not what he wanted to do. He paced slowly across the carpet in the little alcove of his living room. The bookcase looked sickening, and the radio looked evil. Alcohol sounded entirely too good to him, which worried him immensely. Shifting his hands nervously, Harry’s mind darted back and forth, trying to decide what to do.
He supposed that he could leave now and Apparate to some party in London. His presence wasn’t required, and nothing was keeping him here. He could surely find some smoky club and dance anonymously till dawn, with all the other pretty, decked out boys and girls. Or maybe he could head to Ron and Hermione’s after all. They would certainly be up, celebrating the new, Voldemort-free year, and he wouldn’t be out of place. Harry thought about several different things he could do, but somehow, none of them seemed right. But the room was caving in, and he had to do something. Harry grabbed the money laying on his dresser, as well as his winter coat and his wand. He left his room in a hurry and headed down the hall, his mind spinning.


~*~

‘What a bloody stupid holiday,’ Severus thought, as he dripped tiny dots of wax over the cork on the vial he had just stoppered. His hands worked with a force of their own, covering the top completely with a practiced manner. His quill eased over the parchment, assigning his newest creation a name, number, and shelf spot. Wiping the residue on his robes, Severus blew out the candles in his workroom and walked silently toward the desk.
The clock had rung just a few minutes ago. He still had an hour before midnight, and from the weight on his eyes, making another potion was out of the question. There was just something about going to bed before midnight that irked him; it made him feel old and dull, so he would have to find something to amuse him until the clock struck once again and he could finally rest.
It really had been a terrible holiday. The first moment he had caught word of Harry staying for the holiday, he holed himself up in his laboratory, putting out countless over-due potions. Severus was almost sure that the boy had done it just to irk him, no matter what Remus had said about grading papers and whatnot. Of course, there could be a hundred different reasons for Har- Potter staying for the god-forsaken holiday, and none of them concerned Severus. At least, that’s what he told himself.

~*~

Even as a young Slytherin, Severus had had the corridors of Hogwarts memorized. This was no easy feat, as things changed and moved both at random intervals and set times. After he had taken sanctuary at Hogwarts, it was something that comforted him. On some level, Severus felt at home simply walking the paths he had charted out in his mind, and knowing where he was going to end up. Control was funny that way. Something as simple as knowing the destination of the Hogwarts hallways seemed like freedom to a man who constantly tumbled with chance.
He remembered things as he walked. That was one of the prices you paid for living in a place with this many memories plastered to the ceiling and walls. They dripped down like glue and stuck to the hapless people who were unfortunate enough to come across them.
He avoided the inner depths of the dungeons that night. The recesses that lay there seemed to repel him, and attract him all at once. As dismal as they looked, they still held magic for him. They were the playground of the Slytherins, a place of hushed whispers and shady dealings. If the walls could talk, how many lives could they save, just whispering the things that have been mumbled against them by the wayward children who walked them? How different things might be...
But things weren’t different, and Severus had no desire to relive his own wayward moments. The magic of the hallways was uninviting to him, and instead he walked upward, toward the surface level of Hogwarts, and continued upward, moving further and further away. The pathways narrowed as he went farther back within the walls, letting himself walk the forgotten bricks. Hogwarts was much too big to be used completely, especially since a great deal of the rooms further back in the castle tended to move as they pleased. They were seldom used by anyone except for the Ravenclaws, who took some of them for their personal use. They were, after all, in Ravenclaw territory.
Eventually Severus was far away enough that his pace slowed to quiet, casual steps. He hadn’t been up to this part of the castle in so long; it felt like a time warp. No one ever came back here, save for storing odds and ends, or retrieving the odds and ends that were stored. Even the hormone-ridden lovers of youth steered clear of this area, for fear of the rooms changing and the path back disappearing. But Severus knew it well. Though his reasons were all the wrong reasons, and as he walked past a familiar bench, the memories came crashing back.
He remembered how Lucius has sat, so still, and so straight. His whole body seemed falsified, and his eyes were glassy. He had been gone all day, and his normally porcelain complexion had a rosy tint to it from the cold, February air. He had almost fallen into the Common Room, and he had grabbed Severus bluntly on the shoulder and ushered him out, meaning for the younger boy to follow him. Snape was not in the habit of following blindly, but something compelled him to do so, expecting explanations when he got to where they were going. Lucius had led him up to this little bench, moving easily through the twisting turns of the hallway, and pulling him into the alcove. Sitting, wound up like a spring, he began to talk in whispered excitement, with his usually crisp words running together. Looking back, Severus considered that Lucius had probably been drugged, but at the time he hadn’t noticed. His lips were redder than usual, and they moved so quickly, saying things like ‘pride’ and ‘power.' Severus’s mind reeled with strange speed, trying to piece together the broken words, but they were like wet jigsaw pieces and they didn’t seem to want to fit together.
Severus couldn’t make out the whole of what was said, but there was one thing he was absolutely clear on. When Lucius rolled up his sleeve, the dark mark stood emblazoned on his forearm. Neither of them said anything, and Severus stared at it for what seemed like several minutes. He reached out with the tip of his finger and traced the mark carefully. Then, hypnotized by some power that was beyond him, he placed his whole hand over it and felt energy jolt through his body. He locked his eyes with Lucius’s, and in that moment, there was just the two of them, sitting in a hallway no one ever visited, with the world at their feet.

Look how much has changed since then.

Now it was just Severus sitting in the little alcove. The years had tallied themselves on his face with their lines, and Lucius was lying in a traitor's grave. The world that was once so precariously laid at his feet had moved and spun out of his grasp when he wasn’t looking, and instead he now only had its blood on his hands, and its troubles on his shoulders. He wondered when everything had gotten so far away from him, when he had lost so much control. Severus shut his eyes and leaned back against the stone wall. His mind quieted and he sat back to listen to the silence of the place that had long since stripped him of any innocence he had left.
But it wasn’t silence that he heard. There were soft footsteps from far down the hall. They were moving sharply, but not with any particular speed. His mind reeled with the list of who could possibly be there at that time of night. Cloaked in shadows, Severus listened and watched as whomever it was came close and closer down the hallway.
Finally, the mystery figure appeared. Not looking around in any particular manner, someone, undoubtedly a man (though Severus couldn’t get a good look at his face), carefully walked down the hallway leading toward Severus, who sat hidden and perfectly still. But, before he reached his watcher, he turned off and walked down a different hallway, away from Severus. Once he had reached the far wall he took out his wand and ran its tip down a defined crack. The wall seemed to blur and distort, and the man moved through the wall, as if it wasn’t even there, and Severus watched as the portal closed behind him.
Everything had happened so suddenly that it took Severus a moment to determine whether the event had actually happened, or whether he had dreamed it. But he determined it was too strange for it to be a dream, so it must have been a reality. The strange thing was, Severus couldn’t imagine anyone else who would be aware of that passage, and even if someone was, how would they know how to find it, let alone open it. They would have to have a huge amount of knowledge about the castle to be able to...
And then it hit him. Once he remembered to drop his mind out of spy mode, he remembered to look for the obvious, and the answer was clear. Only someone who really understood the inner workings of the castle and how it was bonded in and of itself would know how to get the walls to open like that. There were only two other people who would even have the faintest beginnings of that knowledge, and he knew for a fact that one of those two people was snug in bed, dreaming of rainbows and candy canes. So that left only one other person, and now the real question was what Harry Potter was doing roaming the forgotten parts of the eastern wing of the castle.
The thought of Harry following him flitted through Sev’s mind momentarily, but that didn’t really make sense. He couldn’t have possibly seen him or heard him, and if he did, he wouldn’t detour away. Harry would most assuredly make a production out of whatever reason he had sought the other man out and force Severus to listen to it. No, if Harry was following him, his actions made no sense at all, so their meeting was chance. But if the boy wasn’t following him, what was he doing here?
These questions tumbled through his mind until the most obnoxious corner of his mind whispered, ‘You could always find out...’ Severus felt a little smothered. He had one thing clear, though. He was not about to go and follow Harry Potter around like a lovesick schoolboy. If the boy had business in this part of the castle, why should he care, let alone interfere? He had no knowledge of him wanting anything to do with Severus, and they had been doing their best to avoid one another. What place did he have walking after him?
But, there was always a but. His calm, logical mind spun all the different reasons he should walk away and forget about the Wonder Boy and his late night wanderings, but his feet wouldn’t move. His eyes stayed glued on the point of disappearance, and his heart was beating faster than it should have. It was so wrong to feel so wrapped up, and yet as much as he tried, he couldn’t unwind himself. His iron will kept the thoughts at bay and his face stoic and unmoving. His natural sarcasm kept his words masked and gave them a biting edge. Everything he said and did pointed towards the callous and aloof feelings he indoctrinated into himself and others... But...
But his heart just didn’t want to let go. And, even though he knew he could walk away, and he could make Harry not love him, or not like him or not lust after him, or whatever the boy claimed to feel, if he really wanted to. But he didn’t want to, and common sense just stubbornly refused to help him refrain. So, slowly, one foot after the other, Severus Snape made a lazy walk up the set of cement steps with his footsteps echoing down the hall. He could kick himself later, but tonight... Tonight he just had to see.


***************
Authors Note: I feel kind of embarrassed writing this. I should have had this chapter done weeks and weeks ago, and I know I should have. But, it seems I've come down with a terrible affliction that only lets me write things a paragraph at a time. And, if you believe that lie I'll tell you another one...
But, this is only about half of what I intended to write in chapter 16. The other half was truncated
and pushed into the now half written chapter 17, which I am working on, and I should have it out within a week or so. With the FF.Net restructuring issue and some other personal ones, this chapter has kind of been a cross to carry, but not any more.