Legillimens

The very next day was a Saturday, so the two met early in the afternoon. Neville was a full half-hour early this time and Snape was already waiting for him, biding his time by needlessly fussing over some slow stewing potions. Neville slid quietly behind an empty desk and waited for the professor to finish. His mood seemed darker than usual and it did not go unnoticed by Snape. After taking much longer than he really needed to, he put down his ladle and addressed the boy.



"Mr. Longbottom. You seem unusually sullen this afternoon."



Neville did not look up, but answered anyway.



"Yeah, I\'ve got a lot on my mind."



Neville spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.



"You uh…you…" His brow furrowed, "you…er…Professor, you…"



Snape smirked, knowing full well where this was going.



"Spit it out, boy, don\'t choke on it."



Neville sighed, there was really no way to pussy-foot around it.



"You snogged Harry\'s mum!" he shouted. There. It was out. He\'d said it.



Snape\'s smirk became a full sneer.



"May I remind you, Longbottom, that she was no one\'s mother at that time. She was a beautiful, curvaceous, single girl. Well, a woman, really, I suppose."



"Stop!" Neville put his hand up, palm towards Snape. "I don\'t want to hear about it! Oh shit! It\'s just so…so…wrong!! That\'s Harry\'s mum!" He covered his eyes with his hands, to block out the horror of it all. "Professor, you didn\'t snog MY mum, did you? \'Cause I don\'t think I\'d want to…that I could handle that."



"No, Neville, I did not snog your mum."



Neville looked relieved.



"Now, your father, on the other hand…"



Neville\'s eyes popped from his head and his jaw dropped open.



"I\'m joking! I\'m joking! At least-- I\'m quite sure I am…what was your father\'s name again?"



Neville made to stand up and Snape put out his hands to placate him.



"I\'m teasing boy, really. Sit down."



Neville was not entirely convinced, but sat down anyway. Snape sidled in beside him.



"Shall we begin?"



Neville nodded, still bristling.



"All right. Today\'s task is the same as yesterday\'s, but I would like you to endeavor to read my thoughts without the use of your wand."



Neville clutched his wand with both hands.



"But sir…how?"



Snape dragged his chair around to face Neville and scooted it up so that they were face to face. He leaned in close so that their noses grazed and cupped Neville\'s face in his hands. Neville stiffened and attempted a smile, but it came out as more grimace than grin.



"You must concentrate. You must focus. Try to remember what it was that you did to that Henwin fellow in the pub. I want you to go in undetected." Snape leaned in closer until their foreheads touched. "You must channel your thoughts and energy."



Neville closed his eyes and tried to concentrate only on Snape\'s silky voice. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting his mind become open and clear.



Snape paused, waiting for Neville to collect his thoughts, and sitting there with Neville\'s face in his hands, was suddenly compelled to kiss him. Oh dear Jesus, I think I\'m attracted to him! Great! Now I can add child molester to my resume. What\'s next? Groping first-years behind the Shrieking Shack?



Neville\'s eyes fluttered open and he gave a trusting smile.



"I\'m ready."



Snape broke out in an uncharacteristic sweat. He inhaled and noted that Neville smelled of peppermint and something else…peanut butter? The compulsion to feel those lips against his own remained and he clenched his jaw at the thought of it. God, he hadn\'t kissed a man since…since…No. He needn\'t bring that memory to the forefront of his mind. Not when Neville was about to begin poking around in there. He quickly covered over the thought and cleared his head.



"Please begin, Mr. Longbottom."





Once again Neville found himself in the dark cavern of Snape\'s mind. The mysterious liquid was deeper this time and colder as well. Neville held his breath and sank beneath the surface. His hands stretched in front of him, feeling along the muddy floor. Strands of memories, stirred up like silt, clouding his vision and blocking out the light.



Some memories were new, sharp and jagged as broken glass, others gone over so many times they were soft and smooth as polished rock. Neville carefully moved some aside to reveal the deeper thoughts beneath. He pushed further into Snape\'s mind, probing along to find something that glowed with fresh urgency. As he examined the thoughts, he began to see how each one seemed to have its own life. An individual colour, sound and feel. He pried further until he came across a memory that stood out from the rest. This one glittered darkly. Menacingly. Neville hesitated, uncertain, but he could imagine Snape\'s voice chastising him, so he plunged forward and grasped the memory with both hands. He slowly held it to his forehead and willed it to open.





It was a cold night in Hogsmeade when Snape first met Tom Riddle. Lucius Malfoy had invited him to join them and some friends at the Hogshead for a drink and Snape had hesitantly accepted. He didn\'t much care for Lucius. He was a spoilt, stuck-up brat and just as much a bully as Sirius or James had ever been, but his nasty pranks had never been aimed at Snape and being with him was marginally better than constant solitude, so he had agreed to go.



Tom Riddle, however, was a completely different story. From the moment they met, Snape was besotted. He was an attractive, confident, enthralling speaker, and he had the ability to make you feel as if you were the only one in the room, despite the group of friends crowded around the table.



When introduced, he half stood and offered Snape a solid handshake, looked him square in the eye and gave him a quick wink.



"Severus, I\'m so glad to finally meet you. Lucius here tells me you are quite the whiz in Potions class." He leaned in conspiratorially and half whispered, "Quite the Dark Arts aficionado as well. Good for you!" Snape could feel a flush tint his pallid cheeks; he was both surprised and thrilled to have his reputation precede him. Snape had expected Tom to be more self-important and frankly, a bit of a know-it-all, but he turned out to be a great storyteller, an even better listener and, most surprising to Snape, a really witty chap. On more than one occasion, he had the whole group of men and women holding their sides and wiping away tears of laughter.



He had a disarming charm about him, and a couple of times during the evening while the others were prattling on about school and the upcoming NEWTs or complaining about the seemingly endless inches Professor Binns had them write about the Gnome Uprising of 1546, Snape could feel Tom\'s eyes on him. When he looked up, their gaze locked for a time, and Snape could feel something pass between the two of them. He had an odd, almost electrical tingle surge up from beneath his stomach, and he did not find it unpleasant. Perhaps, Snape thought, this is what it feels like to make a friend.



That night he tossed and turned in his bed, but sleep was not forthcoming. He slid from his sheets and went to the window, passing his roommates who knew nothing of insomnia. The night air was cool and damp and he welcomed the breeze that lifted his hair from his forehead. The lack of sleep was nothing new, but the inability to clear his head of images of his new friend was unusual. He mentally listed the last twenty Headmasters of Hogwarts, even tried remembering the complex list of ingredients for making Draught of Living Death, but to no avail. Tom Riddle\'s face, with those high cheekbones and intense sparkling eyes, kept swimming into view. Snape felt that same electric tingling, a mix between excitement and nervous anticipation, and although he went back to bed, it would be light before he was able to drift off to sleep.



On the next Hogsmeade weekend, Snape was up before the sun and first in line to leave the grounds. Filch eyed him with some amusement, and when Snape impatiently pushed at the gates before they were properly unlocked, Filch put out a hand to slow him down.



"What\'s the rush, boy? You\'ve got a date waiting for you or something?"



Snape looked down his nose at the caretaker\'s yellow grin and sneered, "Possibly, and it\'s not with a mangy cat."



Argus Filch snickered and called to his back as he strode away, "There\'s nothing wrong with a little pussy, you should try it sometime!"



Snape kept walking and the hoarse laughter was carried away by the wind.







Hogsmeade was almost deserted due to the early hour and although Snape was unsure of exactly where he was headed, his feet seemed to have a destination in mind. Most of the storefronts were still dark; Snape passed by them, his reflection regarding him in the grimy windows. After almost an hour of walking on cobblestones without a direct intention, his feet began to ache. He found a set of crumbling steps and sat down. The sun was starting to climb in the sky, taking a bit of chill out of the air, and Snape lifted his face upward, feeling the warmth.



"Lovely morning, wouldn\'t you say?"



He opened his eyes and there was Tom Riddle leaning against a doorframe across the alley from him. He didn\'t appear surprised to find Snape sitting in this alley, and he had such an affected casualness about him that Snape wondered for a moment if it were authentic or put-on. Then Tom smiled and motioned for Snape to follow, and his unease dissipated as quickly as the morning fog.



He followed Tom through the back entrance. It was a moment before his eyes adjusted to the darkened room and he recognized where he was. The place was awash with a type of organized clutter. Memorials, bric-a-brac, and century-old tchotchkes filled the floor and walls and even hung from the ceiling. Dishes and utensils, jewelry and amulets, family crests, walking sticks, souvenirs from faraway countries and artifacts from every war lined the shelves. Each piece heavy with history and laden with secrets long forgotten. Forgotten, that is, until someone with knowledge and talent could coax those secrets out, tease them from their slumber.



Borgin and Burkes was Snape\'s favourite place on earth, and it was all he could do not to jump up and down and clap his hands with glee. Tom gave him a smile and said, "Follow me."



He didn\'t have to ask twice.



He led Snape to an adjoining room that seemed to contain mostly jewelry. The glass cases were crammed together forming a haphazard maze, and Snape followed Tom as he maneuvered through them, admiring the contents. "I wanted to show you my most recent acquisitions."



"You WORK here?" he gaped, jaw slack with disbelief.



Tom smiled, "Of course."



"Merlin\'s beard, you are the luckiest man alive." Snape shut his mouth and groaned inwardly promising himself that he would stop fawning and drooling like a schoolgirl. Tom, however, seemed to enjoy the attention.



"Oh, I don\'t know about that," he said, "but working here definitely has its perks!" He took a key from around his neck and opened the glass case in front of him. "Here, pick something out for yourself."



"Oh, no, I uh, I haven\'t got any money…with me, that is." Snape\'s eyes longingly searched the case for what it might hold.



"No, Severus, really. Take something. I\'ll have it taken off my next cheque." He winked at him and Snape wasn\'t exactly sure how to take it. Was he kidding? Was he serious? Curiosity got the best of him, and he examined the contents of the case. There were silver rings etched with lacy scrolls (dwarven, no doubt) and a whole collection of tiny golden ladles (for dark potions requiring certain rare ingredients, Tom explained). Snape eyed them greedily, but his attention caught on a pair of thick, platinum rings. Tom took them out and fingered them lovingly.



"They\'re Betrothal rings, from the far, far east." He handed them to Snape, who looked at them a moment then cast his eyes back to Tom. "They are used in wedding ceremonies where the marriage is…uh," Tom chose his words carefully, "…arranged." Snape looked again at the rings and suddenly noticed a small loop of teeth inside the bands. He could almost imagine slipping the ring on his finger and feeling the metal clamp down and the teeth take hold. He quickly passed them back to Tom, who laughed. "I understand. Let me choose something for you." He scanned the case for a moment, then fished something out from under the glass. He held it up for Snape to see.



It was a thin silver necklace with an odd, ebony stone. Snape reached out to touch it, and it glowed a deep burgundy in his hand.



"Is it…alive?" he asked.



"Not technically," Tom answered. "It\'s a blood stone, or Cruento stone."



Snape turned it over in his hands and felt the weight of the smooth warm pebble.



"Put it up to your ear," Tom offered. Snape hesitated then complied. He cocked his head to the amulet and paused, listening. At first he could hear only his own breath, intermingled with Tom\'s, then quietly, imperceptibly, he heard it. A pulse. A thin but undeniable pulse was coming from the stone.



"Fascinating," said Snape, his ear still on the necklace. "It\'s not unlike a tiny heart."



Tom smiled broadly, showing a bit too much teeth, but Snape\'s attention was on the stone. "It didn\'t start out that way. Cruentos are originally made from the heart of a giant. Usually a king or queen felled in battle." Snape raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but Tom went on. "Then the heart is put in a sort of…press…until it is shrunk to the size of a walnut. It takes about sixty years or so. It\'s brilliant, really."



He took the necklace from Snape and held it up, unclasping the delicate latch. His arms spread apart, each holding one-half of the necklace, and then he leaned forward and encircled Snape\'s neck, moving in so that their chests touched while he closed the clasp. Snape obediently lowered his head to allow Tom better access but ended up leaning his mouth on Tom\'s shoulder. It seemed an odd position in which to remain stationary, and it was not helped by the fact that Tom seemed to be having a bit of trouble getting the damnable thing clasped together again. An eternity seemed to pass, where Snape had the feeling that perhaps they should be slow-dancing, when Tom finally straightened up and removed his arms. The stone lay at the top of Snape\'s sternum, just below the hollow of his neck. Tom gave it a wee flick, to adjust it just right, and Snape looked down at the curious black rock. When he looked up, Tom\'s face was just inches from his own.



"Of course, it\'s generally given as a token of love. Giving your heart over to someone else, so to speak." Snape gave a weak smile, fearing what was probably going to happen next, and he was not disappointed. Tom\'s mouth was on his, kissing him fiercely, and Snape kissed him back so hard their teeth clicked. His lips were hot and insistent and Snape could barely keep up with his tongue, which darted and flicked like a snake hunting its prey.



"Oh, Ssssseverus. We\'re so alike, you and I." He ran his tongue up to Snape\'s ear and warmed it with his hot breath. "Thick as thieves we are."



Then his mouth was on Snape\'s again as they went to the floor in a flurry of swirling capes and groping hands. Soon they were skin to skin, slick with sweat, all hipbones and elbows, these two lanky men, looking more like brothers than lovers. Then Tom was on Snape, his expert tongue and divine grip touched him in all the right places, in all the right ways, and when Snape neared climax, Tom seized him all the harder and demanded, "Call me Lord. Tell me I\'m your Lord." Snape, delirious with lust and shaking with desire, obliged.



"Yes….oh yes, m\'Lord."



"I rule you, Severus. Tell me."



Snape came and came and came, moaning, "YesLordYesLordYesLord."







When they were done and dressed (and the room had stopped spinning), Tom ushered Snape to the backdoor where he had entered and gave him a parting kiss.



"I liked it when you called me \'Lord\'," Tom said. Snape shifted uncomfortably but Tom, unaware, went on. "Please continue to do so; everyone else will be soon enough." Snape went to push the door open but Tom called him back.



"Remember, Severus," he admonished, tapping his own neck where Snape\'s necklace sat at his collarbone. "Thick as thieves."



Snape stepped out into the bright mid-morning sunlight, near blind and as unsteady as a bear roused from its winter nap. A whirlwind of emotions churned within him, but none seemed to quite fit what he was feeling. Confused. Exhilarated. Mortified. In love?



He promptly leaned forward and puked all over his shoes.







Snape puked again, but this time it was on the dungeon floor, not in Hogsmeade. He tried to stand but his stomach clenched and he fell again, retching and vomiting. Eventually, he was empty but he continued to heave and cough until strong arms lifted him up and sat him on a chair. A wet cloth was placed in his hands and he gratefully wiped his face, the warmth reviving him a bit.



"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom." It pained him to say it. He hated to appear weak in front of anyone, let alone a former student.



"Here, sir, I found some chocolate."



Snape\'s stomach rolled at the thought of it, but he knew better and put some in his mouth. Immediately, he could feel the strength returning to his legs. When he felt it would be safe to stand, he did so, leaning on the desk beside him.



"That was a successful session… of Legilimens," he said, his breath still uneven, "but I would not exactly call that entering \'undetected\'."



Neville looked at the floor guiltily and murmured and apology.



"I have some work to attend to, Mr. Longbottom. Shall I assume we will commence at the same time tomorrow?"



"Actually, sir," Neville replied, "I have to go out-of-town for a couple of days. My cousin is getting married in Skivenshire and he\'s asked me to stand up for him."



Snape kept his expression even, but he was surprised to find that he was disappointed.



"A wedding. How droll."



Neville shrugged noncommittally. Obviously the boy was so starved for entertainment that even a wedding seemed fun. "Well," Snape continued, "you\'ll be bringing a date, I suppose?"



"Well, I will be paired up with the Matron of Honour, so, sort of, I guess."



"Charming. Here\'s hoping she\'s more Veela than Vampire. Do enjoy."



"I will, sir. Thank you. And I guess I will be back on Thursday for another…lesson."



"I\'ll be waiting with baited breath."



Snape grimaced as he stood, his abdominal muscles exhausted from his pathetic and seemingly endless round of cookie tossing. Neville stood to assist him and Snape waved him off rudely as he hunched away.



"Do you need some help, Professor?"



"Despite the way you design to treat me, I am not an invalid, Longbottom. I have been quite capable of taking care of myself for the past forty-odd years and I will thank you to quit fussing over me like some overzealous nursemaid!" He turned to leave and caught his shoulder on the door frame. He bounced off and stumbled slightly, then regained his balance and marched through the opening.



Neville bit his lip, suppressing a giggle.