Bonds of Affection

Harry woke up with a splitting headache, and a nausea that defied reason. He opened his eyes, and saw a blurred face above him.



“Hermione,” he said.



She pointed her wand at him and pronounced healing and restoration spells. He breathed deeply as he pounding between his temples began to ebb away. The nausea receded as well. He attempted to sit up, but couldn\'t – and he just collapsed on his back again, and surveyed the room he was in. It was Ron\'s room, at the Burrow.



“How long was I out?” he asked, his voice sounding unusually hoarse.



“Just the day,” she said. “You really did a number on yourself this time, Harry. Whoever gave you the idea to mix hypnotic with pumpkin juice?”



He winced as his stomach lurched again. “How did I get here?” he asked.



“The hostess firecalled, when you passed out on the floor,” Hermione said disapprovingly. “Oddly enough, she decided not to send you to St. Mungo\'s. Probably not good for business to advertise that the teenage legend of the wizarding world got overserved in her fine establishment.”



Harry nodded slowly. “Hedgwig?”



“She\'s fine,” Hermione assured him. “What happened with Snape?”



“Nothing,” Harry said sullenly, turned on his belly, and buried his face in the pillow.



“Did he hurt you? Did you run away?” she demanded. “Tell me.”



She sat on the bed next to him, and waited. Then Harry broke down and talked, telling her absolutely everything. He even told her about his first time with Severus, which normally would have left him mortified to talk about, but he no longer cared. All his defenses and inhibitions were completely gone, and it was as if his entire body and mind were beginning to weaken, and fade out of existence. Finally, he finished, and stopped, only to realize that he was crying. In complete silence, Hermione hugged him and held him in an iron grip, while he sobbed, agony stabbing through him with every breath.



He cried for a long time, sobbing desperately in her embrace. Eventually, he ran out of tears, having cried himself to complete exhaustion.



“You should eat something, or at least drink something,” she said gently.



He shook his head. His insides were a knot of agony and tension. His throat was constricting with every breath.



“Is it the slave-bond?” she asked softly. “Urging you to kill yourself?”



He almost laughed at her question. “What do you want me to tell you, Hermione? There are no voices in my head telling me to off myself. But I really think I might as well die this time. I mean... we all know I should, one way or another.”



Hermione\'s grip on him tightened even further. “Not like this,” she said firmly. “We\'ll figure something out. I am not sure what... but we will.”



He turned to her and shot her an incredulous look. “You think I should go back?”



Hermione sighed deeply. “We should tell Dumbledore....”



Harry laughed with a shrill note of despair in his voice. “Dumbledore can piss off. He doesn\'t care. He cares about the war, not about me.”



Hermione shook her head.



“Look, Harry,” she said softly. “We\'ll figure something out. Something you can live with, okay? Maybe Snape can drop by a few times a week to give you ... you know... a fix of his presence... just enough to satisfy the damn bond. Or if you need to go back, Ron and I will come with you, so that you are not alone there. I don\'t know. I just know that we can\'t let you die. Not like this.”



Harry shrugged indifferently. “Whatever, Hermione.”



“Well,” she said sadly. “Go back to sleep then. We\'ll figure it out tomorrow.”



He stretched himself out on Ron\'s bed, and fell asleep almost instantly.



In his dreams, green flashes of raw energy washed over him. He heard a woman scream, and her cry was both distant and hauntingly familiar. He felt someone\'s arms lifting him and cradling him; then, carrying him away. The stark, bare branches of trees loomed over him, swaying in the cold wind, against the dark, starless sky. There was a smell of wilted grass, and smell of autumn leaves, all around him. He awoke – but the smell of October still lingered in the air, even after the dream had dissipated.



Harry opened his eyes, and saw him – Severus – sitting on the floor, across the room from him, leaning against the wall.



Neither said a word.



Harry wondered idly how Severus got in... whether Ron or Hermione got nervous and firecalled him, or whether he came on his own... but then Harry decided it didn\'t matter.



He looked at Severus. The black eyes met his gaze and held it firmly, and Harry looked away almost instantly. He had never felt so much despair and resignation in his life just being next to someone.



This man had seized him, took him away from his murdered parents, cradling him as he carried him away, forcing the irresistible attachment to form, binding Harry\'s soul and body to himself. The man was his captor, his owner...his master. He had always belonged to this man – body and soul, without ever knowing it. Voldemort\'s potion was just the finishing touch in his enslavement.



“You came to take me back?” Harry asked, still looking away. Suddenly, he realized he no longer cared, one way or another.



The man\'s answer, however, surprised him.



“No,” Severus said quietly. “You don\'t have to come with me. I came to... try and explain...”



Harry glanced at him disbelievingly. “Explain? Well , explain this. You were already working for Dumbledore then?”



“Yes,” Severus confirmed reluctantly. “I was. Not long, but yes, I already was. Never defying Voldemort, or going against his explicit orders... just... slipping information to the Order now and then.”



“He trusted you,” Harry muttered under his breath. “And yet, you still turned me into Voldemort\'s Horcrux...”



Severus nodded slightly, and continued talking, as if unwilling to be deterred:



“I had participated in a number of raids before the assault on Gordic Hollow. But those were more like real battles, Harry... never, when.. it was just a family being slaughtered, with a child being there. When... we entered the bedroom, where Lily was holding you in her arms. She looked at me, begging. But what could I do? Voldemort was too strong. He could not be defeated by any spell or curse from me. Except... well... when he cast the Killing Curse on your mother, I cast the Horcrux spell. Based on my understanding of Dark Magic, I had thought – I had hoped, that if a part of his soul embedded into you, then his Killing Curse would rebound off of you. Turns out, I was right.”



Harry gave him an incredulous stare. “So you made me into Voldemort\'s Horcrux to save my life?” he asked bitterly.



Severus nodded dejectedly. “I – I figured I had maybe just a second or two before he turned on you and tried to kill you as well. And I wasn\'t a particularly powerful wizard. All I had was my book smarts. And honestly... I just couldn\'t think of anything else at the time. So I cast that damned spell. Without saying the words out loud. He never knew I had. No-one knew.”



“I see,” Harry said tiredly. “And then?”



Severus continued softly: “Then, when he vanished... I knew what I had done... and that he would return, eventually... Then, I took you out of Godric Hollow. It was the last day of October. It was cold. I wrapped you in my robe and carried you to Hogwarts. I gave you to Albus and Minerva, and left. I was gone for over a year. But I couldn\'t stop thinking about you... about what I had done to you. Then I came back, and asked Albus to take me back, and let me help, so that we could be ready when Voldemort returned.”



Harry glanced at him. “But this time, you didn\'t come to the Order just as a casual informant. This time, it was different. You actively defied Voldemort... and went against his orders, over and over again... and your bond to him punished you worse than before... ever since he incarnated again.”



Severus shrugged. “Albus and I had expected that, but we had ample time to prepare. He taught me how to re-channel the mental discomfort of the bond into the physical pain. He saved my mind.”



“Right,” Harry whispered. The familiar feeling of guilt returned, as he looked at the anguished smile on the man\'s weary face. “Why didn\'t you tell Dumbledore?” he demanded.



“I was too ashamed... and too afraid. Afraid that he\'d think you\'d need to die because of this. And then, when he had finally guessed that you were a Horcrux... he was so broken... so devastated – then I was just ashamed.”



Harry opened his mouth to say something kind, but nothing came to mind. A heavy silence hung between them instead. Finally, Harry spoke again, with renewed hope:



“Look... Severus... if you are the one who created the Horcrux... you have the power to destroy it. I\'ve read about it... if the creator of the Horcrux repents... then it destroys the Horcrux... if you repent, then – the piece of Voldemort\'s soul in me will be destroyed.”



“I can\'t,” Severus said softly. “Believe me, I\'ve tried to. I\'ve been trying for over a decade now. I can\'t. I regret, I am remorseful, I dread what I had done... but I cannot repent of it. Me casting that spell saved your life at that time. I can never repent of it, for as long as I live. I want to. Truly. But - I am just not able to.”



Speechless, Harry stared at him, not knowing what to say to the man who had assisted in Voldemort\'s survival in the attempt to rescue Harry from him. The man who had spent the last fourteen years atoning for the crime that had saved Harry\'s life, enduring unspeakable torment, and never feeling he could do enough. Fury, compassion, rage, guilt, resentment, and gratitude all welled up inside, aching and demanding to be let out.



Harry barely moved his lips when he spoke.



Severus looked up at him, startled.



“What... what did you say?” he asked with a tremor in his voice.



“I forgive you!” Harry shouted on top of his lungs, certain that he was loud enough to be heard throughout the Burrow and outside of it.



Severus looked at him painfully. “You shouldn\'t,” he said in a quiet voice.



Harry smiled a little. “Too late.”



Harry was still sitting on the bed, when Severus came to him and knelt in front of him, burying his head in his lap. Harry stroked the silky black hair gently and then leaned in to kiss it. The smell of October made him nearly dizzy, filling him with a faint, faded memory of death, loss, and salvation. He slid to the floor, and wrapped his arms around his his nemesis and savior, holding on to him fiercely.



“I am so – so sorry,” Severus whispered. “I just wish I had thought of something else back then...”



Harry kissed him on the lips, drowning his apologies and protests. He tasted the tears on his tongue, and kissed deeper and deeper, until he had invaded his mouth, until he was almost forcing himself into him. Severus kissed back, with wild, unrestrained passion, holding Harry\'s face in his hands.



When Harry finally pulled out of the kiss, it was only to say breathlessly:



“Master? Take me home.”