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 26: Separation





He stood hovering between the two beds for a long while, watching his boys sleep. The twins were so adorable like this. It was easy to forget what mischief makers they were when they were awake.



Harry pulled the covers over their necks and tiptoed from the room. Lily had fallen asleep hours before but he went to check on her anyway. After the diphtheria scare, he was still reluctant to have her sleep away from his side. But Molly had told him it was high time Lily got her own room. So he had placed her in a chamber adjoining his.



The cottage was quiet now. Harry found it unsettling to have such stillness around him. He much preferred hearing the laughter and noise of his children, friends and family. Silence gave him far too much opportunity to think.



Whatever Snape was searching for in Grimmauld Place, it wasn’t occupying as much of his time as Harry hoped. He sent messages to the cottage but Harry pointedly ignored them, keeping company with his children and frustrating the Potions master’s attempts to communicate. So far the man hadn’t tried coming physically to the cottage but Harry had blocked the floo, just to be on the safe side.



He didn’t understand Snape. One day the man made it clear just how much he loathed Harry. Then he doped him up in order to have sex with him. Afterwards, without showing the tiniest signs of remorse, he made it clear it was just an act of expediency, designed to gain him access to the manor on Grimmauld Place. Now he was attempting to talk to Harry.



Why? Why the sudden urge for discussion? What did the man want to talk about? Potions ingredients? Proper child care? The weather? Getting his name in the papers? Out of the papers? Whatever it was, Harry wasn’t interested. The less he had to do with Snape, the better. After all, it was the Slytherin who made clear the terms of their arrangement. When Harry had tried to make matters better, Snape had pulled a fast one. As far as Harry was concerned, he washed his hands of the matter…and his bond mate.



What really shook Harry was the sex they’d shared. It had been…wild, more so than anything he’d ever done with Ginny. He’d known awkwardness, certainly, but no fear, nerves or real hesitation. It was all due to the potion, of course. Even if Snape taunted him about how much he’d liked it, Harry would never, never, NEVER do anything like that of his own volition.



But that didn’t explain Snape’s reaction.



The Slytherin had said he would bottom if Harry had wanted it. He had thought the man was kidding. Guess he had been wrong.



Harry couldn’t get the images out of his head. The man had been like a beast, screaming, cursing and begging for more. Those sallow cheeks had been flushed red, the black eyes flaring and burning with heat. When Harry closed his eyes, he could feel those supple legs binding him around the thighs, making it impossible for Harry to escape even if he’d wanted to. Afterwards, Snape had held him close, giving him a soft kiss on his ear.



Harry had been under a drug. There was no such excuse for Snape’s behavior. So underneath his scheming, he’d actually…wanted Harry. Which was something that Harry simply didn’t get.



The next day Snape had been his usual sarcastic self. He had sneered at Harry…but he’d also claimed to enjoy what had happened. He was so offhand about it too—all of which meant that Snape was gay. He must have been for a long time.



So his marriage to Harry meant…what? Was it more to him than a means of revenge and a matter of convenience? Had he actually lusted for Harry all along or had it happened gradually? Maybe he was homosexual but what had happened with the drug was simply Snape’s way of taking advantage of the situation.



Harry didn’t want to think about it. But late at night images of Snape’s naked body, rangy and powerful, that deep voice screaming with passion, would worm into his mind. It preyed on him far more than he would admit to anyone, even under Cruciatus.



It was insane. He had believed he would go to his grave with Ginny’s touch being the last erotic tenderness he knew and had been content to have it so. Then why was he stroking his daughter’s hair and remembering how soft Severus’s had been?



Harry snatched away his hand, appalled. He was even more sickened to realize he’d thought of Snape by his first name, the first time he could recall doing that. Harry swallowed and retreated from his daughter’s room.



He badly wanted to go downstairs, dig out a bottle of fire whiskey from the alcohol cabinet and drink until he collapsed. The prospect of such oblivion was so tempting. But he couldn’t get out of control like that, not when he had his children to take care of and nourish.



It was times like this that he missed his friends the most. Oh, he could still see Hermione and Ron when the situation called for it. But they had all grown up and forged their own lives. He’d had Ginny and then the children. Ron and Hermione had had little Timothy and were expecting another baby. Getting together was no longer the easy matter it had been when they were children in Hogwarts.



But he could talk to Hermione, couldn’t he? It was only fair; she’d been the one to officiate when he’d taken the Unbreakable Vow. She had already taken such trouble looking up the ins and outs of such bonds. She’d want to know about this latest development, especially since it involved another of his properties.



It would force her to hide it from Ron, though. He didn’t like the idea of having Hermione keep secrets from her husband. But, if his hot-tempered mate found out about how his bond mate had doped and duped him, the redhead go spare and Severus might well develop a permanent set of black eyes.



Harry grimaced. Shit. He’d thought of him as “Severus” again.



He was thinking all too much about Se-Snape. He wasn’t sure he could let Hermione know how the man was weighing on his mind. He couldn’t begin to think what she would say about it. She and Ginny hadn’t been related but both had been the only daughters to their respective families and had considered each other as being the sister neither had ever had. Would she think he was betraying Ginny if he admitted to naughty notions about his former Potions professor?



That fire whiskey was seeming more tempting by the minute. Perhaps he’d take one—just one—for Dutch courage and then floo-call his bushy-haired friend.



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“Harry, what is it?” Hermione settled back in the comfortable chair. Before he would tell her anything, Harry had insisted that she be taken care of first, getting her those chocolate biscuits she loved, a hot cup of tea and propping her feet up on a cushioned ottoman. It was very sweet of him to be so solicitous.



But she could tell he was very nervous about something. His hair was even more rumpled than usual. He’d immediately blocked the floo after her arrival, stating only that he wasn’t taking any chances. Chances against what?



“Hermione, are you okay? You’re comfortable, yeah?”



“Harry, I’m fine. But I’m going to get dizzy if you don’t stop walking around like that,” she chided gently.



“Sorry.” Harry sat down in an adjacent chair. Then his legs started jiggling.



Oh dear. “Harry, do you want something to drink? That might steady your nerves.”



He let out a bark of laughter. “No. I already had one, thanks. If I take any more, I might not be able to stop.”



“Is it that terrible?”



“When you hear what I’ve got to say, you’ll want a stiff one, too. Too bad you won’t be able…” He gestured vaguely at her rounded belly.



“I doubt it will be that bad.”



“I fucked Snape.”



She blinked. “Um. What?”



“I fucked Snape. Sorry, pardon my French. I shagged Snape.” Harry laughed wildly, making Hermione wonder if he’d had more than the one drink.



This was definitely not what she’d expected to hear. “What? You had sex with…Snape? Why?”



“He drugged me!” Harry shouted. Then he glanced at the ceiling and forced himself to speak more quietly. “He drugged me, Hermione. He doped me up with something like Amortentia. Then I took him home and practically mauled him in bed.”



Hermione could feel herself starting to shake and set down her cup down on a nearby end table. “You’re joking.”



“I wish I were.” Harry got up and began pacing again, his face set into grim lines.



A surge of white-hot anger ripped through her, so strong she could barely breathe. She’d never known anything like it, even when she thought Buckbeak had been killed, even when she’d learned of Sirius’s death. The closest she ever got to such emotion was a kind of righteous anger when she witnessed injustice or had heard Malfoy calling her a Mudblood.



“That bastard.”



“Yeah, you got it,” Harry mumbled. He plopped on to the couch beside her and buried his head in his hands.



“Harry, I’m so sorry.” He mumbled something inaudible. “What? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that.”



Harry lifted his head. His anger had melted away. Now he looked truly miserable, disappointment and a hint of something else darkening the green eyes.



“I thought he was trying to get to know me better so we wouldn’t have to be enemies, circling around one another like sharks in the water, waiting for the other to strike. So we went out together for dinner at a Muggle restaurant.”



“And?” she prompted.



“Corabett and her husband Owen showed up. I knew they went there regularly. In fact, Corabett had said she’d be there that same night. So I thought it would be a good idea to have her see me and Snape together, have her spread the word that he wasn’t such a bad bloke. Snape didn’t see it that way. He thought it was a set-up.”



“Well, technically, Harry, it was.”



“I know! But it was meant to be a good thing. Dinner at a restaurant in the Wizarding World would have been the same, except that I’d be worried someone would take a shot at Snape. In a Muggle setting, there’d be far less danger of that happening. I thought it would be a good way of relaxing.”



Hermione frowned, picturing the scene in her mind. “It sounds like Snape was upset about Corabett. Do you think he drugged you because of her or is it what he intended to do all along?”



“He must have planned it from the start. He brought the potion with him. When I confronted him about it, he just said that he was a Slytherin and I shouldn’t have expected anything better.”



She reached out to touch him on the shoulder. “Harry, I’m so sorry this happened.”



“So am I, Hermione.”



“I never thought Snape would do anything like that.” No matter how mean the man had been in school, she’d thought he had some sense of honor.



“And I never expected to have my life ending up like this: me locked in a hateful marriage with my old Potions master.”



Hermione said nothing. She didn’t know of anything she could say that would make it better. The law was not on Harry’s side. The only thing she could do was provide comfort.



“It would be easier if he just stuck to being an arse. But he pretends one minute to want to be on better terms and the next he reverts to being the greasy mean-spirited git who used any excuse to dock house points. It’s like he’s constantly trying to keep me off balance.”



“Really? That doesn’t sound like the Snape I remember.”



“Maybe he’s gone barmy from Nagini’s bite,” Harry mumbled.



“Nagini? What does she have to do with this?”



“Oh, I didn’t tell you that part. The morning after we…you know…Snape had some sort of fit. He fell down, went into convulsions and then passed out. I had to give him this antivenin potion when he woke up.”



“Antivenin?”



Harry nodded. “I think that’s what it is. Accio Snape’s potion.” A small vial came winging into the room and slapped into Harry’s palm. He extended it to her and Hermione surveyed the contents curiously.



“How long has Snape been taking this stuff?” she asked.



“He says he’s been on it since he was rescued from the Shack and treated for his injuries.”



That didn’t sound right. Hermione knew people suffered from snakebites in the Muggle world. She hadn’t heard of anybody who needed to take medicine for years afterwards to relieve the symptoms. Granted, Nagini wasn’t your ordinary snake. But Arthur Weasley had been bitten by her and he didn’t suffer from convulsions and blackouts. What was going on here?



“Harry, what’s in this potion?” she asked, jiggling the vial in her palm.



He shrugged. “No clue. I had no idea he was even on this stuff.”



Hermione rolled it in her hands in a considering fashion. “Do you mind if I keep this?”



He waved his hand. “Go ahead. I don’t think he knows how many I took from the cottage.” He looked at her quizzically. “Why do you want it, Hermione?”



“I’m not sure. I think it should be analyzed.”



“But he’s a Potions master. If it was dangerous, he’d know.”



“Just humor me, Harry.” She tucked it away in an inside pocket. Changing the subject, she asked, “How are things otherwise? How are the boys and Lily?”



“They’re fine. The boys really don’t like Snape and they’ve never gotten along. I think they were playing nasty tricks on him the first few days he was at the cottage. Hopefully, they’ve stopped that since he’s no longer here.”



“He’s not here?” She looked up at the ceiling. Given Harry’s distress, she’d thought that Snape was lurking somewhere on the premises.



“He’s at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Since the two of us… he’s been free to come there whenever he wants.”



“I’m sorry, Harry.”



“Well, you told me that’s what would happen if we slept together. I just didn’t think he’d want it that badly. I should have been more careful.”



“What does he want at Grimmauld Place?” It had to have been pretty important for him to go to such lengths as subjecting Harry to a drug.



“Again, no clue. He wouldn’t tell me when I asked so it’s probably not a good thing. I just hope he’s not planning on hexing anyone.”



“If he were, I wouldn’t think he’d need to dig into the Black library. Snape has probably forgotten more hexes and curses than we’ve ever learned.”



“Well, maybe where Snape is concerned, a little more knowledge never hurt…especially when you’re hurting the other bloke,” Harry muttered snidely. “The weird thing is…” His voice trailed off and he looked really puzzled.



“What?”



“Ever since we had our row about what he did to me, he’s been trying to get in touch. Sending owls, trying to get through the floo. I set up Anti-Apparition Charms all over the place, so he can’t get in that way. He has to walk to the front door and I don’t think he’s willing to risk it. He’s still Mr. Unpopular, you know.” Hermione was distressed to see Harry’s mouth turn up in a bitter smile when he said that.



She turned things over furiously in her head. “Harry, I think if Snape wants to talk, you should try to meet him halfway.”



“I don’t want to talk to him, Hermione,” he responded tightly. “I tried talking to him. I tried having a nice, civilized dinner with him. He used it as an excuse for rape.”



“Harry, I’m not excusing what he did,” Hermione said patiently. “But if it seems like he really wants to talk—”



“No, he really wants to use me again. Maybe he didn’t find what he wanted in Grimmauld Place. Maybe he needs something in his bedroom…more of those potions, maybe. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’ll just bundle up his things and have them sent to the manor. He can have the place, if he wants it so bad. I’ve never liked it anyway.”



“Harry, you’re not being very mature. Sirius left the place to you,” she scolded.



“I’ve tried maturity. It’s a losing battle with Snape. He insists on feeling sorry for himself, as if he’s the only one who ever suffered, and taking out his petty grievances on me. The worst of it is he keeps blaming me for how shitty his life’s turned out to be.”



“That’s not fair.”



“That’s Snape.”



Silence fell after that retort. Hermione glanced at Harry as he stared broodingly into the inactive floo. In the dim light of the room, he seemed so much older than her Ron did. Hermione had some idea of Harry’s awful home life; she’d seen how his adopted family treated him when they came to pick him up at Kings Cross Station for the summer holidays. Ron had told her of one harrowing time when he’d rescued Harry from his room after he’d been locked in like a prisoner.



She suspected matters were far worse than she’d been told. But Harry never let on how really bad things had been for him. If he hadn’t told her, it was unlikely Snape knew. Perhaps if he had, the man wouldn’t be so inclined to think the worst of Harry.



“You’re welcome to stay the night if you want,” Harry murmured, interrupting her train of thought.



“No, that’s okay. I told Ron I’d only be gone for a little while. He wanted to know what you wanted so late at night. But, since I didn’t know, he didn’t push.”



“What will you tell him?”



Harry sounded casual but she’d known him too long not to be fooled. “I won’t tell him about what happened between you and Snape after the restaurant,” she said quietly.



His shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks, Hermione. I know it’s a lot to ask, keeping secrets from your husband—”



“No need to explain, Harry. I know about Ron’s temper. He wouldn’t take this at all well and I don’t want him going after Snape.”



“Yeah. He’s a good mate but he can fly off the handle pretty quick.”



She smiled at him. Her husband’s temper was fierce but it sprang from protectiveness and loyalty and she couldn’t fault him for it. She just didn’t want Harry getting hurt because Ron lost his head and hurt Snape—or worse.



“Well, I must be going.” On impulse, she leaned over and kissed Harry on the head. “It was good seeing you, Harry.”



“Even under these circumstances?” he asked wryly.



“I’ve seen you under worse,” she reminded him.



“Yeah, I guess.” He stood up and hugged her. He saw her to the floo and she braced herself for the familiar whirlwind journey. She hoped this late night confession had helped Harry. But she very much feared that nothing she said would be enough to lighten the misery she saw in those dull eyes.





TBC