Scarred Souls

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Title: Scarred Souls



Author: Misty Moonlight/Co-author: QueenBoadicea



Beta: QueenBoadicea



Pairings: Severus/Harry



Published: 12/10/2008



Summary: A widowed Harry must bond with Snape in order to save his daughter’s life. Sev gains a family, for better or worse, and the hearts of two scarred souls will be changed forever.



Warnings: Romance, Drama, Angst, Alternate Reality/Universe, Sexual Situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Anal, Language, Humor, possible MPreg, Bonding, Original Characters, Family, non-canon, OOC, WIP



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Chapter 25: The Bath





“Snape? Snape, can you hear me?” Harry placed his fingers gingerly against the man’s neck. The pulse was reedy and far too fast for his liking. He wondered if he should get someone from St. Mungo’s to help. He’d have to if this stuff didn’t work.



Inside his pocket were ten vials of the mystery potion Snape had sent him to fetch. He didn’t know what they did or how much the man needed. But he thought it best to take as many of the glass bottles away as he could carry.



Harry had found the bottles in Snape’s room. He wondered briefly that he was able to get into the place so easily; he’d have thought Snape would set up such elaborate wards that he’d have to fight to get through them. But he’d swiftly put it out of his mind when he thought of the Potions master lying so deathly still.



What was wrong with the man? Obviously, his condition must be something chronic if he had potions ready to be administered. But what could the problem be? And why hadn’t he ever mentioned it to Harry? Goodness knows, Snape had no problem firing off salvos at Harry just because his life had been rotten while Harry’s had turned out so wonderfully. Why would he keep quiet about this?



The questions could wait. Now he was kneeling beside the sofa, trying to rouse the unmoving Potions master. He’d never seen Snape look so ghastly. A film of sweat lay over his face, his skin was the color of chalk and his scars shone a sullen red against his face and neck. Harry wrinkled his nose as a sour smell emanated from his body, one he was very familiar with from changing Lily’s diapers. Snape must have soiled himself.



The man wouldn’t be happy when he awoke to find himself lying in filthy underwear. But there was nothing for it. Getting the potion into Snape was his first priority. “Enervate,” Harry thought. He’d grown quite proficient at wordless and wandless magic but thought it best to keep this hidden from his bond mate. He preferred to have some advantages over the man.



Snape’s eyes flicked open. It was as though the man had been only pretending to sleep and now had abandoned the pretense. But his faltering words belied his apparent alertness. “Pot-ter. My potion…”



“Right here, Snape.” He held up the vial. The man reached up a trembling hand but it was clear he was in condition to hold it without dropping it to the floor.



“Here, let me.” Snape’s answering glare was feeble and Harry ignored it. He eased Severus up and uncapped the vial. He held it to his bond mate’s lips and watched as it trickled down his throat.



Snape blinked and then shoved Harry aside. “Well, it seems you’re good for something after all, Potter. I wonder that it took you so long. Then again, you were probably hoping I’d die in the interim. It would be an easy way to get rid of me without the public being any the wiser.”



That was certainly a fast recovery. How swiftly Snape reverted to his typical nasty persona. Harry could feel a muscle in his jaw bunching. “You’re welcome, Snape. I’m so glad you didn’t swallow your tongue while I was gone.” He tilted his head and stared at the empty vial in his hand. “What’s wrong with you anyway?”



“That’s none of your business, Potter.”



“Oh, I think it is. Or is death by illness acceptable under the terms of the Unbreakable Vow?” Harry shot back. Truly, he had been terrified for the man when he saw Snape’s unconscious state just now. But he knew the man would reject any kind of sympathy. Best to act like he didn’t care.



Snape smiled coldly. “You wish to know what ails me, Potter? Very well. I am suffering the aftereffects from Nagini’s bite. Had you bothered to come to my aid after my collapse in the Shrieking Shack, perhaps I might have made a complete recovery. As it is, I am in continual danger of systematic breakdown if I don’t take regular doses of the antivenin that I have prepared for myself. Another curse I can lay at your door.”



Harry was appalled. He’d known Snape to have been scarred. But this was news to him. “You’re still suffering from Nagini’s bite? But that was years ago, Snape! Why haven’t you gotten better?”



“Believe me, more intelligent minds than yours worked at the problem, Potter. You needn’t trouble yourself with it at this late date. Now kindly move aside.”



“I’m sor—”



“Spare me.”



Snape swung his legs unsteadily off the couch. An expression of horror flickered over his face and Harry realized he must have felt the new moisture in his trousers. “Do you want any help bathing?” he asked innocently.



The man’s face flared white with rage. “Potter, you imbecile. You couldn’t perform a simple Cleaning Charm?” he hissed.



“I was more concerned with getting your potion into you. I also figured you wouldn’t want me performing any magic on your body without your say-so,” Harry retorted.



Snape glared but didn’t refute his statement. He pulled out his wand and muttered the Cleaning Charm.



Harry folded his arms. “Don’t think we’re finished with our earlier discussion, Snape.”



“We most certainly are, Potter, unless you want to take another punch at me. I don’t advise you to try it.”



Harry sprang to his feet and began to pace back and forth. “I just don’t get your motivations. You hate me. You don’t want anything to do with my family. But you seem determined to shoehorn your way into my life. The cottage isn’t enough for you so you decide to force entry into Grimmauld Place. Why? This was Sirius’s home! I figured you’d hate being here.”



Snape shrugged. “Just because I despised your dogfather doesn’t mean I hate this place. It’s quite roomy and comfortable.”



“And the cottage wasn’t?” Harry narrowed his eyes. “You were in the library this morning.”



“Very observant, Potter. Yes, that’s what the room full of books is called,” Snape replied sarcastically.



“And the cottage doesn’t have a library like that. What is so important in that library?”



“Potter, my reasons are my own. I’m certainly not about to tell you.”



“It’s something to do with the Dark Arts, isn’t it?”



Snape folded his arms and didn’t bother answering..



Harry fumed. He wished he were skilled at Legilimency. There was no chance he could browbeat his bond mate into telling what he wanted to know. But whatever Snape wanted, it had to be bad if he were poking around in books relating to the Dark Arts.



“It must be pretty important for you to have sex with someone you hate,” Harry continued, hoping to get a rise out of him. “Or was it a dream come true to have me fuck you up the arse?”



There was a stifled gasp from outside the door. Harry’s head snapped towards it. Before he could move, Snape hissed, “Alohomora.”



The door swung open to reveal Kreacher, Lily, James and Albus. The boys jumped at being suddenly exposed. Kreacher’s expression was unreadable but Lily grinned at seeing her father. “Dada! Dada! Dada!” she yelled, waving her chubby arms.



“Boys, I thought I told you not to eavesdrop,” Harry said. Heat was spreading up his ears. Great Merlin, just how much had they overheard?



“We were worried, Daddy. Last night, you were so weird,” Al whined. James tried to peer past his father’s body to look at Snape.



“Your father is fine, as you can see,” Snape murmured. Harry stiffened as he came up behind him and wound his arms around his waist. “In fact, he was quite stellar. Weren’t you, Harry?” he smirked.



It was Harry’s turn to glare and he shoved Snape in the chest with his elbow. He was shocked to see the taller man stagger backwards and sway as if he were going to pitch to the floor again. Harry reached out to grab him and locked his hands around Snape’s upper arms. It wasn’t enough to stop his backwards momentum and they both fell to the carpeted floor, Snape grunting as Harry fell on top of him.



The position was too reminiscent of last night’s sexual bout and Harry knew Snape remembered it at the same time he did. He scrambled back, flustered, and was surprised to see a red flush across the sallow cheeks.



He tried not to read too much into it. The man was probably just startled at finding himself on the floor again.



Harry scrambled up. He wanted to pull Snape to his feet. But the man waved him away angrily and made his way to the door with a stiffened gait. He pointedly ignored the children who cringed out of his path.



Albus made a face. “What’s that smell?”



“It smells like poop,” James offered, also sniffing.



Lily giggled. “Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop! Poop!”



Snape threw Harry a ferocious glare. “I see your children are still the same ill-behaved urchins. You’re far too soft on them, Potter.”



“Snape, unless you want me to drop you on the floor right now, in front of my kids, you’ll keep a lid on it. Cleaning Charms can only do so much. It smells—looks—like you need a proper bath. Do you want any help getting up the stairs?”



The familiar sneer was back. “I can manage quite well without your help, Potter. I’ve been doing so for the past several years.”



“Glad to hear it. I don’t want to have to touch you more than I have to,” Harry retorted.



Snape opened his mouth and then closed it with a frown. Harry had no idea what he was thinking now and, frankly, he didn’t give a toss. This whole morning was getting off to a bad start and he just wanted to get it over with.



The children ran into the living room and Kreacher handed Lily to Harry. He dismissed the house-elf and the Black servant disappeared to fix Harry’s breakfast.



“Daddy? Why did you leave us last night?” Albus whined, poking his father in the shin.



“Did you and Snivellus have sex?”



James’s blunt question wasn’t doing his circulation any good. Harry hoped he wasn’t flushing as badly as he felt.



“Don’t call him that, James,” he muttered.



“Well, did you?”



He juggled Lily and prayed Kreacher would bring his breakfast quickly. As if hearing his thought, the house-elf reappeared and handed Harry a big plate of eggs, bangers, mash, toast and pumpkin juice.



It was only after the house-elf left again that Harry felt calm enough to answer. “Boys, I wasn’t quite myself last night,” he hedged.



“I’ll say,” Albus muttered.



“Snape and I are—working out a few things. We went out so we could talk and not fight so much when we’re together.”



“But you were fighting just now,” James pointed out.



Harry sighed. Sometimes his eldest was too reasonable for his own good. “Differences take a while to sort out, James. Snape—made a mistake last night and I got caught up in it. I’m sorry if I ignored the two of you because of that. It won’t happen again.”



“Promise?” Albus demanded.



“Promise.” It was a promise he meant to keep. He felt disgusted with himself when he thought of how shabbily he’d treated his own children last night. It wasn’t his fault but there was no way he could bring himself to tell them the sordid details.



But how long could he hold out against a treacherous, devious bastard like Snape? There was no telling what the man would do to Harry if he’d stoop this low. Harry wasn’t safe here and that meant the children weren’t either.



Harry made a decision. This morning, he was going to head to the orphanage, as usual. If Corabett had any questions for him about last night’s spectacle, he’d tell her that he’d wanted Snape. He didn’t want to lie to her; the woman had turned out to be a real friend. But telling the truth would only get Snape in hot water with the rest of the Wizarding community if they got wind of it and it was Harry’s life on the line as well as his bond mate’s.



No matter how much of an effort he made, Snape was determined to make his life hell. If Snape wanted the Black manor so badly, he could have it. Harry was done trying to befriend the man. From now on, Snape was on his own.



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Severus was fuming, resting his trembling frame against the bathroom sink. Who the hell did Potter think he was? So what if Severus had tricked him? They were supposed to have consummated the bond days ago. Access to the Gryffindor’s body was his by right. Potter should just consider himself lucky that Severus hadn’t held him down and taken him by brute force.



When he thought of the things Potter had said, the vicious underhanded blow that he’d dealt, rage bubbled in his veins. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hurt somebody. Harry and his brats had better keep out of his way; otherwise he would hurl vicious curses at them.



He threw himself on to the small bath bench set conveniently next to the tub. He was always out of sorts after taking his potion. But today there was a peculiar rawness to his nerves that he couldn’t account for. His stomach was churning and the brackish taste of the antivenin had yet to abate. Perhaps a relaxing bath would help.



He thought of the humiliating sensation of waking up to find his trousers soaked with his own effluvium. If he hadn’t been so shaky from his convulsion, he would have blasted Potter for witnessing his embarrassment. As it was, he was glad to get away from him, away from them all.



Why the hell did everything happen to him? He hunched his shoulders in self-pity and began to strip himself with shaky hands.



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Severus eyed the filled bathtub. The water looked rather deep, more so than he was used to.



“Do you require any help, sir?” the mirror asked.



He scowled at the ruined face reflected in its surface. His eye was getting purple; he’d need to put salve on it before it became worse. “No, thank you. I can manage,” he said curtly.



Potter had told him that he was leaving Kreacher if he needed anything but he was damned if he was calling that house-elf for help. Gripping the edge of the tub tightly, he lowered himself as carefully as he could into the bath. Satisfied with his safe progress, he leaned back against the tub end, stretched out his legs and allowed himself to relax.



The cottage had been adequate for his needs. But, compared to the Black manor, it was a veritable shack. This bathroom, for instance, was the size of the basement lab he’d set up in Potter’s home, spacious and lined with tiles that were real inlaid stone rather than the thin, shiny stuff in the cottage. The tub was black stone, designed to hold in the heat of the water longer, and the fixtures were solid silver. He stretched out even farther, his chin barely resting above the water.



Now that he could come and go freely in Grimmauld Place, was there any hurry to head back to the cottage? He could receive summonses from St. Mungo’s just as easily from here. The Black dungeon would be far more spacious than the cottage basement, should he choose to start brewing here, and there was that capacious library, filled with more books than he could read during his lifetime.



His bond mate was the only fly in the ointment—well, him and his children. It was simply intolerable that Severus had to deal with another generation of Potters. Perhaps, if he was sufficiently cruel, he could drive the other man back to the cottage. He wouldn’t be bothered any more, not by squalling infants, pestiferous children or those animated heads. It would be bliss.



Wouldn’t it? In spite of this morning’s vicious scene, Severus couldn’t help the warmth that flooded him every time he thought of the previous night’s ecstasy. Last night had been sublime. He would dearly love to repeat the experience.



The more Severus thought about what he did, what he had wanted to happen and what had actually occurred, the more he found himself fighting a losing battle between his own satisfaction and growing regret. It hadn’t been rape, but it hadn’t been anything else. Harry’s anger was justifiable; his own actions were not.



Would he wish to stay here with Severus on the premises? Harry’s first loyalty was to his children and secondly to the Weasleys. Severus’s actions of the previous night were unlikely to win Harry over to his side. But would the younger wizard uproot his family yet again just to get away from Severus? What if Harry did? What would Severus do then?



He sighed and shifted in the tub. It wasn’t like him to be so uncertain in his plans. Yesterday, he’d carried through on his original intentions and been soundly rewarded. Why feel remorse now?



And last night had been good. Bloody brilliant, in fact. Even if he hadn’t topped, the other position had brought sexual bliss far beyond anything he’d ever known in his life.



A rare smile creased his face as images from last night replayed in his mind. Severus shifted once more, letting the water slide across his skin. He was regretting turning away his bond mate. Perhaps if he’d pretended to be weaker than he was, he could have had Harry bathing him right now. It would have given him the perfect excuse to have that exquisite firm body close to his, to feel those hands caressing every inch of his skin. He licked his lips as he recalled Harry’s touch, the sound of his voice, that perfect luscious frame and the enthusiastic way he’d plundered Severus’s arse.



Trailing his hand down his chest, he closed his eyes and thought of Harry stroking his cock. The man’s touch would be more considerate now, less hurried. He brushed his fingers lightly over his cock and felt it fill, saw the water become agitated as it stirred beneath the surface.



Severus tightened his grip. “Yes, that’s it,” he muttered.



“Did you say something, sir?”



He opened his eyes and glared. He’d forgotten that blasted mirror. Picking up his wand, he hexed it into silence. He cast a Silencing Charm on the room for good measure.



Now where was he? Ah yes.



Harry was gripping Severus’s cock, slightly loose at the base and firming to a tight seal as he stroked over the tip. His pace was getting rougher, faster, just the way Severus liked it.



“Enough,” Severus muttered. “I want you to suck me.” Severus reached for the soap, slathering his prick. It wasn’t quite the same as a hot, wet mouth around him but it was close enough. He closed his eyes, picturing the messy-haired head descending over him…



Harry lapped at the tip, forcing down the foreskin with his tongue. Those plump lips were sucking at him, pushing lower over his shaft with every inhalation. Severus forced himself not to buck into that hot suction. But the man was just too good.



The Gryffindor was pulling at Severus’s sack. His touch was strong but that’s how Severus wanted it now. Then Harry pulled away, giving him that insufferable grin, the one that showed his white teeth and accentuated the sparkle in his eyes.



Those eyes were looming over Severus, the glint in them quite different now. Severus gasped, thrust up his hips, as Harry’s warmth once more made its way inside him.



The bathtub water was churning, in danger of slopping over the sides, but Severus didn’t notice. He was thoroughly engrossed in the fantasy that was gripping him.



Harry was hissing at him, the tongue flicking out to lap at his skin while Parseltongue flowed from his mouth. Severus had never understood the language but he tried to imagine what Harry might be saying.



“Bring your legs up, Severus. Fuck, so good. You feel so tight around me. Love taking you like this, fucking you, branding you. You’re mine, you hear me? No one else gets to see you like this.”



“Oh, Merlin. Yes! Fuck!” he gasped. His hips were pumping without letup, unashamedly. Harry’s hands were grabbing his wrists, forcing them above his head while he drove into Severus with almost brutal strokes. The wrinkled nutsack he’d barely glimpsed last night was smacking his arse in lusty rhythm.



He saw the green eyes darken with some nameless emotion, felt the sinewy body tense over his own. It was almost real, too much and not enough. Severus gave a garbled cry and saw the water bubble as his release shot out of him.



Severus fell back against the heated tub wall, panting mightily. Oh…damn. He’d had excellent wank fantasies before but this had been splendid. The only way it could have been better was if Harry had been there with him.



That settled it. In spite of this morning’s debacle, Severus had had a glimpse of heavenly delight. He’d be a pretty poor Slytherin if he didn’t try to repeat what had proven to be a very pleasurable encounter.



He stepped out of the tub, drying himself off briskly. When he next confronted Harry, he would be calm and relaxed. He wouldn’t let the man bait him, no matter what he said. Severus would worm his way back into Harry’s confidence…and, hopefully, into Harry’s bed.



He looked into the mirror again and frowned thoughtfully. Even before Nagini’s attack, he had never been considered handsome. The scars didn’t help. Harry no longer gazed in disgust of Severus’s disfigurement but neither did he care to linger on his face.



He could keep his hair clean and dress better, as he had last night. But Harry couldn’t expect him to change too much. He was what he was and he hadn’t survived as long as he had by being nice. However, a little concession to courtesy couldn’t hurt.



Feeling like whistling, but resisting the urge, Severus toweled off and prepared for a leisurely day in his new home.





TBC