Dying To Be With You

—Dying To Be With You—
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Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Genre: Romance, Angst, and Humor.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but in fact their writer, J.K. Rowling. I am not creating this story for profit, merely for an artistic way of spirit. (Wow that makes me feel intelligent.)
Summary: When you want to be with someone badly enough to give your life, you might just have to do that.
Warning: This story has been rated NC-17 for sexual content, hints of rape, adult language, violence, and language. If you do not enjoy slash, male/male relationships, I suggest you leave now.

Part II

Harry walked around the corridor, his feet weaving patterns into the stone tiles beneath him. He was somewhat lost in thought, stumbling over his own robes and his head snapping upwards when he fell, tripping over the black robes now beneath his feet. He gasped as his head hit the floor, causing dizzy spasms to rupture his vision and nausea to take its place.

The world lost balance, throwing hard balls, and Harry trying his best to hit them with all his willpower, but losing dreadfully. He was another person, watching himself from the floor. Blood trickled from the wound that was caused by sharp stone sticking from the ground. The metallic liquid pooled just beneath his head, drenching fragments of paper and thin hair around it.

He felt completely sick, dizzier than anything he had ever known. He couldn’t think, mostly because his focus was still trying to create a vision of the world around him. He noticed that when he fell, his items, belongs sprawled across the floor, forgotten, just as he was.

Hopelessness carried in through his thoughts before he had time to notice a soft knocking of its presence. Being the Gryffindor he was, he did not cry, nor shed a tear for the throbbing ache he felt in his head. He wanted to shed a tear, like no other, but out here in the cold, he saw no reason.

Against his will, one tear ruptured from his eye, falling to mix with his blood covering the floor. Blackness began to overwhelm him as he soaked in his own destruction, not willing to set out to revive what little life he had left.

~*~

“Potter, are you al—oh Merlin.” He heard the voice, as though echoing from far off in the black distance. The tone was silky, calm as always, but somehow, different from how the man usually talked. He forced his eyes to open, hoping to be killed before he saw any display of anger from his professor.

Snape looked down at him, holding him calmly in his arms. He had already preformed a cleaning spell, so the blood was no where in sight. His head was slowly throbbing out painful memory of the stone floor, but was quickly dissipating, due to the earlier potion given to him when he was unconscious. Now he was simply held in those surprisingly strong arms, watching the man look at him.

Severus looked down at Potter, watching as the face relaxed finally after the potion was administered.

“Professor?” Harry looked up at Snape, watching with curiosity that beamed adolescence. His pride was beaming regrets at him beneath his confused and curious eyes. He shouldn’t see me like this, his mind retorted eagerly. I am completely weak. Something urged him to fight, to regain the pride that was lost, but his body would not allow for any further movement.

“Come on, Potter, time to get up.” He was hoisted from the floor, his belongings gathered quickly in his professor’s arms and taken directly into the dungeons. Since when had he gotten there? He must have fallen directly outside the door.

He followed Snape into the dungeons and through to his office. A portrait lie open for him and he followed suit, climbing through into his potion’s professor’s rooms. He studied the area, which was enormous and tip-full of books from all categories. He noticed that they were all strategically placed, alphabetized. He figured that there must be some sort of spell that would allow for categorizing them, and continued his observation of the rooms.

Green velvet hung from the mantel, directly over a wide-planed fire hearth. The fire was wild, billowing flames from all corners, burning on some sort of fuel invisible to the eye. Harry turned, watching greens weave into silvers, forming glittering majesties all over the walls. The couches however were red velvet, glowing shadows from the flames that never ceased to be amazing.

“This is the living area, directly ahead of you is the bedroom quarters and to the right of that, the bathroom. You will be sleeping on the couch tonight, which I will transfigure into a bed for your comfort.” The words were empty, like most of the paid kindnesses that Severus delivered. He turned, watching the boy continually look around the bookshelves, his eyes falling sometimes to reread titles of books and then move on.

Once Harry had registered his professor’s words, he nodded and turned to Snape, finding him watching him with just the same intensity. For some reason, those eyes awoke his arousal, sending crimson shades to color his cheeks. He tore his eyes away, ashamed that he would blush at such a time as this. He moved, sitting at the couch and watching the fire.

Severus watched the boy, his eyebrow raised in interest. The boy had blushed, for no specified reason. Very interesting, he thought absently. He turned, leaving the boy to accompany himself. The dungeons pulled in a heavy draft, but with no windows to be provided for. Home, he thought with a sigh. He walked to his cauldron, preparing the needed ingredients for Potter’s potions.

~*~

Harry watched the fire for what seemed like hours, the flames intriguing the slightest interest of his thoughts. He was suddenly pulled out of his concentration when Snape walked into the rooms. Their eyes met, Snape stopping mid-step and Harry stopping mid-thought to watch each other over the dark shadows casted on each one of them.

Shivers ran the length of Harry’s spine as the man watched him. It felt as though time stopped as the staring continued for a few minutes more. It seemed that Snape had pulled himself out of it, but letting out a sigh and continuing forward.

Harry couldn’t help the restless sigh that left his mouth, turning his head to watch the flames. What was that, he thought curiously. Snape had seemed just entranced as Harry had, but somehow, differently. Harry soon caused himself a headache with trying to figure out what the man was thinking and stood from his seat. He went to his belongings and pulled out another book that he had been reading. Sitting back down on the couch, he continued off where he had last left.

Severus closed the bedroom door behind him, his breaths shallow and quickened. He had no idea what had just happened, but for some reason, he caught himself thinking that Potter was beautiful. He shook his head, trying to throw away the thoughts. How could he ever think that an insolate brat such as Potter to be in the smallest opinion, beautiful? It just wasn’t possible; he would never seep as low as that.

He moved over to the other side of the room and to the right, taking refuge in the hot bath that awaited him. He could relax and forget about Potter for a small amount of time. It seemed nice to think about, so he quickly strode into the door and closed it behind him.

~*~

The hot bath had, as thought, served as a good relaxation tool as Severus finally stepped from the room, fully clothed. He walked through the door and into the living area. He noticed that the fire was out. The fire only went out when either no one was in the room, or the person(s) in the room had fallen into sleep. He sighed out, turning to find Potter leaning against the arm of the chair, a book poised in his docile hands. Come to think of it, Potter looked quite peaceful, as opposed to his annoyingly arrogant self during the day.

Severus watched the boy. Potter’s chest rose and fell with soft heaves of air. He looked beau—he caught himself this time, pushing the thought in the back of his mind and transfiguring the couch into a bed. The sheets came to rest over him, accommodating his form into the soft curves. Severus allowed himself one more glance, a casting of a linking spell, and then a brisk walk back into his own rooms.

Harry turned on his side, his eyes softly lidded, but his mouth gaped, pushing out quick breaths. The dreams hurled over him, tossing his body into an arch and forcing him to scream out his pain.

“Run! Get out of here.” A man took off down the hall, his eyes running back to Harry each time he made a move. “Go, he’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” Harry tried to reach for the man back was immediately struck down to the ground.

“Vol—..” The man fell in front of him, golden beams hitting him from all sides. He screamed out in pain, his hands trying to shield away the magic, but soon collapsed into death.

Harry was hit with a beam of light, jerking his body thrown into pain. The curse was unbearable, depriving him of his air.

Harry screamed, arching completely and trying to gasp for air. Blood seeped from his scar, falling to the sides while he thrashed and writhed against the bed and the envisioned curse.

Severus ran into the room, hitting himself mentally for not giving the boy the proper sleepless draughts. He took out a calming potion, one that he had prepared that very day, and tried to awaken the boy.

Harry’s eyes jerked open, whimpering slightly at the form that hovered over him. His whole body ached and he was trembling with fever. He was forced to drink the calming solution, relaxing back into the prepared bed beneath him. His breathing slowed and he was soon given another potion, this one a sleepless draught. He felt the burden of exhaustion hang over his shoulders, so without a word, he slipped into a deep slumber.

Severus watched as Potter slipped from the world once more, and sighed out the air in which he had held through the process. He settled the boy back under the covers and left the room without another word. I’m too old for this, he growled low in his conscious thoughts.

~*~

Harry awoke to the sun seeping in through draped windows, his eyes squinting at the sudden invasion of light. He yawned restfully, his eyes widened and he sat from his resting position. He heard a small snort from the corner of the room and turned to look at Snape leaning against the door frame.

“Good to see that you finally decided to join me, Mister Potter,” he drawled out lazily before moving to the far end, where Harry was currently. Harry watched him, feeling the sudden need to hide beneath the covers and never return from his dreams, or lack there of. It was a sad thought, thinking that tomorrow would be Christmas and in the following two days, he would finally see his friends, questions to be answered.

Snape walked to the chair that sat nearest the couch/bed, sitting down with a book in hand. Harry couldn’t see well enough for the title to be read, but figured it had to do something with potions. He rose from the now made couch, which surprised him for a few seconds, before giving up hope to know how the man had done it.

Severus looked up from his book, seeing that Harry had finally decided to move and snorted again, turning the page of his book. He was thinking shallowly about the day after today. Was he at some sort of obligation to give the boy a present? He certainly didn’t see fit to get Potter a gift, so decided against it.

Harry on the other hand had already chosen a gift for Snape. He had picked it up on the last visit to Homesmade. The small silver object carried two serpents on the top, which swirled on the top into small formations. By placing a potion into the small funnel, the item would then read out the order of ingredients and how they could be made. Harry felt that it would come in handy, since everyone used books to make a certain potion, when all they needed to do was get a sample and be able to create it themselves.

He smirked at the idea of Snape receiving a gift. It warmed his heart, knowing that the professor would find it tomorrow morning, without hint as to who had bought the gift for him. It was the perfect plan; that way Harry wouldn’t have to convey his feelings or lie about why he had given Snape such an extravagant gift. To be honest, it was truly extravagant. Not only was the function expensive, but also the gold and silver that encased it.

He walked over to the door and turned, looking for permission to take a shower and when a nod was give to him by his professor, he made his way into the bathroom to take a quick bath and explore the grounds today. He needed to practice a bit for Quidditch.

~*~

The day passed without interruptions. Harry had gotten a good few hours of practice, before the darkness threatened to overtake him and he was forced to return to the dungeons. He wasn’t so much giddy for receiving gifts tomorrow, as he was upon seeing his professor come out and notice a gift neatly wrapped for him. Harry quickly downed the potion that Snape told him to take and went to the couch, resting his head on the arm and drifting off into a deep sleep.

Severus sighed audibly as he noticed that the boy had once again fallen asleep without asking him to transfigure to the couch. He pointed his wand and quickly transfigured the couch into a bed and left to go into his bedroom, refraining from the memory of how much the boy reminded him of a sleeping kitten.

~*~

When Harry had awoken, it was not by his own will, but from the hushed curses of another person. He looked up, noticing Snape, but not quite seeing him since he was without his glasses, or contacts. The man quickly looked at him and scowled. He was holding a small wrapped gift, which was covered in silver. With a closer look, Harry noticed it to be the gift he had given him. Harry looked at the time and sighed, noticing it to be eight in the morning. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Bloody Dumbledore, how many times I have told him to refrain from gift giving.” Severus slowly unwrapped the gift, paying no attention to the boy that was slowly rising from his slumber. When the small circular object was revealed, he couldn’t help a small gasp that escaped his mouth. He had seen one of these, but they were rare to come about, since they took so much time to create. He looked up, seeing the smile that played at the boy’s lips.

Harry bit his lower lip, forcing his grin to turn into a confused look. “What is it?” he began, trying to sound interested and curious. Snape looked at him, his eyes watching him with a silent glare. Harry’s heart sped up, as he tried his best to control his breathing.

“Potter, do you know who gave me such an exquisitely rare item?” Severus’ eyebrows raised in inquiry, watching the boy fidget under his gaze. He felt his hands shake with fury as the boy continued to look away. He couldn’t have…

Harry looked up, seeing the anger in the man’s eyes. He felt his face heat with embarrassment, “I’m sorry, I…” he felt a sting at his heart, watching the man grow angrier. “I thought, well…”

Severus couldn’t believe his ears. Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, had bought him Severus Snape, feared potion’s master, a gift? He lost it, standing and walking straight towards the boy. “What in Merlin’s name gave you such an idea to give me this?”

Harry couldn’t find his words as his throat contracted to moisten the dry length. He felt a hand on his chin, jerking his head to look up. Snape was standing over him, fury coming out his ears.

~*~

Author’s Notes: To answer Moi’s question, yes English is my primary language. At first, yes the story is weird. I guess I never claimed to be very good at writing stories, but it is what I love. Thank you for the reviews and I hope to hear from more.