The Death of a Soul

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Chapter Twenty

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Harry awoke with a start, sitting up in the bed, head jerking side to side as his eyes searched the room. He was still in the hospital wing. His shoulders sagged and he took a deep breath. He was safe and he was still alive. And now that he thought about it, he hadn’t felt this refreshed since…since…Harry sighed again. Since before all of this mess happened. And yet it wasn’t just from a restful slumber, it was from what had occurred last night. It was last night, wasn’t it? Yes. It happened last night. He closed his eyes hoping it was only a dream, but he knew that would be a lie. Harry remembered quite vividly now.

The first time was excruciating. The second and third was not as painful, but was still just as intense. The fourth time (Harry’s hands covered his face at the memory) - the fourth, fifth and sixth time - was not by a hand but by a mouth. A very talented mouth indeed. His husband had not lied, and for Harry, that made it worse than the pain.

At some point last night, Harry was hit with a powerful force. One he couldn’t name, but it wracked through his entire body like nothing he had ever felt before. A surge of power, if you will. He tried to think back on just when it was that he actually felt it. Not by the hand, he was certain of that. Not even the mouth… but when? Harry could feel his face burning as it finally dawned on him. It was the seventh time.


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By the sixth time, Harry’s body no longer felt any pain…far from it in fact. He was ashamed to admit to himself that everything was starting to feel good…Really good. So, after catching his breath, Harry’s head lolled to the side and his body collapsed bonelessly. He honestly didn’t think he had an ounce of energy left in him. He was wrong. Harry instantly stiffened as two slightly hairy legs straddled his hips. His hands immediately clutched them in a lame attempt to push them away. His husband must have somehow taken that as an encouragement, because what happened next made Harry’s stomach clench.

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them tightly to his chest. He tried to convince himself that he hadn’t responded. That he hated it. That it was someone else – anyone else – that was on top of him. But no matter how many times he shook his head in disbelief, or rocked his body back and forth on the bed, or even grinded his teeth together till they hurt… it was indeed his husband that he had fucked.

But fortunately for Harry, one thing was true. He did hate it. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he realised just why the bonding was now complete. On that seventh time, they had an orgasm at the exact same time.


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“Mr Potter. Good to see you're awake. How do you feel?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

Harry’s legs fell down with a jolt and looked up to the medi-witch that was standing by his bed. “I’m fine.”

Poppy scoffed. “I did not ask you how you were, Potter, I asked you how you felt.”

He looked down at his lap. How did Harry feel? Ashamed? Embarrassed? Humiliated? He sighed. No, those feelings were now long gone and they were replaced with something else, acceptance.

“I feel fine.”

There was an intense silence. Harry slowly gazed up at her. She was livid. That wasn’t the answer that she wanted and he knew it, but it was the only answer he could give. He turned his attention somewhere else.

“Potter, I am not your friend nor am I your spouse. I am in charge of your well-being and I want to know how you are feeling,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded. “I…I feel different. Something in me has changed,” he whispered.

He glanced up at her. She was watching him intently for any further confessions, but there was none.

She nodded once. “That would be the result from the bonding, Potter. It is now complete. You will feel many things now because of this.” She paused. “If there is any type of discomfort, you will inform me immediately. Understood?”

“Yes,” he answered softly.

“Good. Now,” she began, turning to leave. “You have visitors. Seeing that you are fine, I will show them in.”

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”


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Over the next few hours, several of his friends and classmates came and went, followed shortly by Severus. Harry had received permission to leave the infirmary and he could tell Madam Pomfrey would have preferred that he had left hours ago. He followed his husband down to the dungeons and stood just outside their private quarters, waiting for his husband to open the door. Looking over Snape's shoulder, Harry could see numerous amounts of gifts in the distance sitting on the small dining table. Severus, not looking back, explained that because everyone knew how close Harry was to dying, it was their way of showing how much they cared for him and was happy to hear that he was out of danger. He flinched inwardly. Of course they were happy. The Boy-Who-Lived was still alive.

Severus took a step forward, allowing Harry enough room to move out of the way of the closing door. Once it was closed, Snape spun around, trapping Harry against it with his body. The young wizard gasped loudly.

“Harry,” Snape breathed, bending down to his neck. “Now I can finally please you.”

The man pulled back just enough to focus on the pair of bright, horrified, green eyes. He smiled seductively and plunged down again to devour Harry’s throat. The young husband gasped again and instinctively tried to push him away. His eyes widened when he felt a strong hand stroking the front of his trousers.

“P-please,” Harry whimpered.

The hand pushed harder. “I’ve waited so long to do this, Harry,” he murmured. “I should be the one who is begging.”

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. Snape had misunderstood his words. How could he be so blind as to have missed what he meant? Harry grimaced and tightened his eyes. ‘Oh, God. No.’

Unbeknownst to Harry, he suddenly found himself on the ground, covered from head to toe by the weight of his husband, who was still biting, licking, and kissing his neck, inching down Harry’s body. When he was halfway down, Harry’s hands flew up to his face, shielding the image of this outrageous scene playing before him. How could Snape not know what he was doing to him? What Harry was feeling?

Harry cried out when his trousers came undone and his cock – which now had a life of it’s own – sprang free. He reached down and gripped Snape's hair as a soft pair of lips slipped over his glans. He wanted to scream, to yell. Anything to get this man off him.

‘Nonononono! Stop! Stop!’

After pulling away and licking the top, Severus whispered, “Harry, can you feel it? Can you feel our powers joining? Can you feel how much I want you? How much I need you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he engulfed all of Harry’s length and ran the flat of his tongue against the protruding vein as he pulled up. The young husband tightened his fists in the man’s hair and his torso bucked up and down in an attempt to wiggle himself free. But unfortunately, his lower half wasn’t listening. He soon felt himself on the brink of an orgasm.

“No!” Harry cried, covering his eyes.

Snape stopped and slowly slid his lips back up his shaft and then paused for a final lick. Harry felt him move away and began to shake with relief. But just as his panic lessoned, his breath hitched instantly when his trousers, pants, shoes and socks were removed and Snape climbed on top of him, positioning himself. The older wizard lowered himself, easing down slowly inch-by-inch till he was completely deluged. Harry’s head arched back and howled. Snape rested on his arms, hands on either side of his young husband’s head, and raised his hips slightly. He began increasing the pace of his assault gradually.

“Harry,” Severus panted between thrusts. “Oh, Harry,” he whispered softly, leaning over to kiss his husband’s lips.

Harry turned his head so all Snape caught was his cheek. He didn’t notice, nor did he notice the tear-streaks running down Harry’s face. Abruptly, Snape arched backwards and latched onto Harry’s thighs, speeding up his rhythm. One hand clenched around his own erection and he stroked in time with his thrusts. Harry couldn’t stop it. He knew he was coming and he. Just. Couldn’t. Stop it. And with a painful scream, he erupted with full force, not realising that his husband came, as well.

Harry’s back hit the floor and his entire body went limp. He choked on his own tears and covered his face in shame. As he cried softly, his mind scrambled with unanswered questions.

Was this it? Was this now whats to be expected of Harry as part of his duties as a husband? To be used? To be fucked anytime and anywhere whenever his husband wanted to? ‘No!’ his mind yelled over and over again.

‘This can't be happening.’

But it was and Harry knew that from this moment on, this was the price he had to pay.


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Snape gingerly rolled off Harry and curled up next to him. He caressed Harry’s exposed stomach and fingered his own spunk. He bent down and ran his tongue across, gathering it all up and swallowed it. He sat up and looked down at his husband’s calm and relaxed body. His face was turned away from him however. Severus leaned over him and pulled Harry’s right palm to his mouth and softly kissed it.

“Harry,” he whispered. “Let’s take a shower.”

The older wizard stood and pulled him up to his feet and Harry allowed it. He was led into the bathroom and once there, Harry slowly began to unbutton his now-crumpled shirt, ignoring the watchful eyes of Snape. Now standing fully naked, Harry kept his eyes lowered and stepped into the steaming shower, completely aware of the presence that was following him. Harry closed his eyes again and tilted his head back, letting the warm water slide down his front. He flinched suddenly as a pair of hands began to caress his backside with a lathered flannel.

“Harry,” Severus whispered, his lips grazing Harry’s ear. “I am truly sorry for the way things have turned out.” He wrapped his arms around the young wizard and pulled him in close. “I want to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you,” he breathed in his ear, fingers curling around Harry’s spent cock.

The young wizard hung his head, not knowing it was giving Snape encouragement to nibble on his ear. Soon, tears mixed with the warm water flowing on his face as he rested his head back on the tall man’s chest.

He snapped his eyes open, blinking furiously under the spray as he heard one word being whispered to him.

“Mine.”


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Severus stood behind his young husband, toweling him off. “Are you hungry? You must be.” Harry barely nodded. “Would you like to eat in the Great Hall?” Harry shook his head. “I’ll have Dobby get you something then. Something light perhaps?” Harry nodded again.

Severus helped Harry into a new robe that he had especially made for him. It was a brilliant red, trimmed with gold. On the right was the crest of Gryffindor and on the left had Harry’s name in large gold letters. Snape paused and furrowed his brows at his now-quiet husband. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Harry winced and bit back his rage. He was too tired for that and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. This is the way it is. Harry nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

“Very well. Try to eat as much as you can, Harry. Poppy has already scolded me enough for your diminished state,” he mused. “I’ll be back in a bit. That’ll give you some privacy to open your gifts.” He leaned over, rubbed Harry’s arms up and down and kissed his cheek. “I won't be gone long.”

In an instant, Dobby appeared with a bowl of broth and small pieces of cheese and bread. Harry thanked him as he sat it down in front of him. He nibbled on a few of the cheese cubes, then took a sip of the hot liquid. Harry sat the cup down and pushed it all away. He placed his head down on his arms, and wondered briefly if the marriage bond would prevent suicide. He snapped his head up at that thought.

‘No. As much as I hate it, this is my new…life. I need to accept it or I’ll go mad.’

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Yes, he had to accept it. What else could he do? His body had already betrayed him – just like everyone else in his life had.

He leaned back in his chair, examining all the shiny packages before him. One was from Hermione and not surprisingly, it appeared to be a book – and it was of course - “The Wizard’s Guide to Passing the N.E.W.T.s”. Another was from Ron and his entire family – a year’s subscription to “Quidditch Weekly”. From his classmates were plenty of sweets from Honeydukes. And finally, Professor Dumbledore gave Harry another book – “The Intermediate Guide to Becoming an Auror”.

There were only two presents left on the table. One was large and flat from Severus and the other was a small square box with no name on it. Harry looked at it suspiciously but then decided to open his husband’s first. It was a photo album. Harry thought it was an odd gift for he already had one. Upon opening it, he noticed that it was filled with pictures of all his friends making faces at him and the rest were his teachers waving. He barely smiled, feeling a little warmth inside. He sat the dragonhide-covered album carefully aside and timidly reached for the tiny box. He wondered what could possibly be in such a small box and just who had given it to him. Basically everyone he knew was already accounted for.

Curiosity finally got the better of him. Inside was a small ball with some sort of spinner in the middle. At the bottom of the container was a note. “The arrow will spin if someone around you is lying.” That was it. That’s all that was written. Hearing that his husband had returned, Harry quickly tucked the ball into the pocket of his bathrobe as he was firmly pulled to his feet. He was led back into the bedroom.

Snape wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to make up to him.


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Days dragged into weeks and with it came a daily-established routine. In the morning Harry’s body was tenderly bathed and then he was stroked to completion. After school, before the evening meal, Severus would lay Harry down on the bed - or sometimes on the couch - and proceeded to give Harry the most intense orgasm from his talented mouth. At the end of the day, the older wizard would give him a fully body massage, worshipping his body as if it was a temple, followed of course by an hour or two of sex.

Through it all, at no time did Harry initiate it. Not once. One thing was certain, however. With each passing day, and with both wizards simultaneously having an orgasm, Harry could feel his powers grow stronger. His grades had improved considerably but not as much as they could’ve, had he been left to his own devices, and Hermione’s aggressive tutoring. Everyone took notice, but frankly Harry didn’t care at this point. He had a job to do and he was just biding his time until that moment arrived.

Harry started to realise that now that he had fully given in, everyone became ecstatic and suddenly alive around him. No one had seemed to notice the sadness coming out of his eyes, the emptiness in his voice or the lost expression he wore on his face as he stared at nothing. It really did seem as if they didn’t care how Harry was or how Harry felt so long as they had their saviour back and their hope reestablished.

No one cared. But yet there was one person who kept watching every move he made. Draco Malfoy.

Soon Harry didn’t care about that either.


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