Blind Love

A/N: Wow thank you so much for all your reviews! I love you all so much! Please review this chapter too so I know you haven’t got bored with my story!

This chapter is all about Harry and Snape practicing the Blind Love spell.

The counter-curse – Animadverto - means ‘to turn the mind to, take notice of, see, perceive’. I thought it was appropriate – I know it’s not a great use of Latin so don’t shout at me! :-)


CHAPTER 4


"Alright, Potter…"

Snape seemed unsure, awkward. He shifted himself in his chair and refused to meet Harry’s gaze. Harry was sitting in the wooden chair again, perched on his hands to stop himself from biting his fingernails in his nervousness.

The anticipation of what might happen in these ‘practice sessions’ hung heavy in the air.

"This is an awkward thing to have to prepare for, Potter…I suppose we should merely pretend I have cast the spell on you and see how good your acting skills are. When I click my fingers you will act as though you…yes, well."

Click.

Harry froze. What on earth was he supposed to do?
Snape sighed. Harry relaxed slightly.
"I suppose we need to work on physical posture. You will need to be on all fours."
Harry looked at the floor apprehensively. Snape raised an eyebrow, impatient - Harry got down slowly onto the floor and settled himself onto his hands and knees.
He looked up, eyes wide and anxious. Snape was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face; he swallowed hard.
"Right. Let's try again."

Click.

Oh, I don't know what to do! thought Harry desperately. He looked down at the floor and tried to control his breathing and...and remember the intense feelings of the other night. He heard Snape sighing harshly above him once again.
"Potter! -"
"Look, this is hard! What am I supposed to do - what does Blind Love force you to do? Do you want me to come on to you?" Harry found himself blushing at his blunt words - he quickly looked down at the stone floor again before Snape could notice.
"Well you may have to one day, Potter. As unpleasant as it is, I would rather endure your nauseating advances than die a slow and painful death." Snape’s voice was callous, cruel. Harry choked back a sob. There was no need for Snape to remind him that his affection was not returned - this fact was already haunting him relentlessly.

HARRY’S POV

I’ve got a new fantasy. It’s shameful. I feel terrible every time I think about it.

Not just because I know it would never happen this way; Snape hates me with everything he has. But because, for it to happen, all my friends would have to be dead. I cannot believe I am actually so bad as to be pining for this…situation.

We’ve lost. Voldemort has given me to Snape. Snape pretends to cast Blind Love on me. We were pretending to be Master and Slave, but, somewhere along the line, we have stopped pretending. It has become the most natural thing in the world. And we have fallen in love.

It’s a strange fantasy, especially for me, when most of my fantasies about him were so...explicit. For some reason, sex isn’t the thing I think about the most. It’s more…the lifestyle, I guess.
I’m Snape’s slave.
There are hundreds of little fantasies that wonderful fact alone gives rise to.

-----------------

I am dressing him, one cold morning. We are standing in our bleak dungeon bedroom in Voldemort's castle - I suppose he lives in a castle. The huge bed is made up flawlessly with crisp white sheets, which I took great pains to smooth out to perfection earlier. My Master likes his rooms kept in an orderly state. I am methodical in my attempts to keep them so.
I slowly slide his smart white shirt onto his broad, muscular back and slip his wrists into the sleeves whilst he stands there. He has his back to me; I take the chance to glide my hands across his skin.
To worship him.
He stands perfectly still as I stand behind him and stroke him reverently through the thin fabric.
I kneel before him and do up his shirt cuffs. Whilst I am on the floor he raises each leg, one at a time, for me to put his bare feet into his trousers. I slide them up his legs, unhurriedly, brushing the tips of my fingers over his skin as my hands progress upwards. I do up the buttons of his trousers, pressing slightly harder than I need in order to feel…to feel if there is anything…developing, underneath the fabric…
His arousal is obvious. My dressing him makes him hard. But it’s forbidden now – we are already late for breakfast. We got…carried away, earlier, when I was in the bath.

He expects me to keep myself in good condition for him, plus he likes to show me off. So I was washing myself, painstakingly, and he came in, still wrapped in a black towel, looking for his shoes.
They were sitting patiently under the sink, gleaming – I had polished them last night for him, then didn’t put them back at the end of our bed after I’d finished. Oh dear.

He bends, picks them up – and our eyes meet. I’ve made a mistake. I should have put them back – he has had to go out of his way to find them. He has better things to do. Jobs like that are my responsibility.
He quirks one eyebrow elegantly - and I know what that means. Tonight, after he has finished work, he is going to punish me. I know I should appear sad at having displeased him, but my skin starts to prickle with excitement. I bow my head to hide my smile. I blush.

He can never resist me when I blush.

Suddenly there is the sound of bare feet on cold stone as he storms over to me, hauls my naked body out of the bath and collapses both of us onto the floor in a puddle, grasping me tightly. He can’t wait; he is going to punish me now and my brain is screaming ‘yes, oh yes!’ as I cling to him, trembling with excitement. I love this!

He pushes me roughly, so that I am lying on my front across his knees, dripping water all over the floor - then grabs my face and jerks it up, touching his lips to mine for just the briefest of moments.
Then his other hand comes down hard on my wet bottom.
Slap!
I squirm in his lap and clutch fistfuls of his towel, whimpering. It hurts, but at the same time it’s utter bliss and I close my eyes. My body starts to shiver with cold.
The towel comes undone in my hands as his unforgiving palm lands on my flesh once again; it falls away from his hips, leaving him naked underneath my wet and writhing body. His body is so hot; the feeling of his skin against mine is electric. I can feel his cock pressing into the side of my stomach and I wriggle. It’s so delicious, this slippery heat. He’s hard already, just as I am.
Slap!
“Ah!” I moan. Suddenly I need to kiss him so very badly; my body curls awkwardly, my lips straining to meet his. He smirks down at me; my eyes must be cloudy with lust, my lips quiver – his eyes travel down my twisted body and he can see the pre-come from his cock which glistens on my stomach. Oh, come down here and kiss me!
I should be lying on my front, still and submissive, but I cannot restrain myself. And he allows it, just this once – but does not give me exactly what I want.
He places his other hand on the small of my back, holding me down, and spanks me hard. My eyes water and my skin stings but it is wonderful and I do not give up, aching, as I am, to feel his tongue in my mouth. Each time he spanks me I whimper, inches from his mouth as our lips brush against each other’s oh-so softly – he is teasing me, holding himself and his warm mouth just out of my reach. My muscles strain as I attempt to contort and raise my body even more, hungry for his kisses. I cannot twist my back into the position needed to kiss him properly – he is so strong; he holds me down with such absurd ease.
Slap!
“Oh, Severus!” I wail. Then suddenly he is lifting me off his knees, he takes my face in his hands – he is going to kiss me…
He gazes sternly into my watering eyes.
“Next time, put my shoes back when you’ve finished with them. Do you understand?”
“Yes! Yes, Master, I’m sorry -”
“You are forgiven.”
I collapse against him in relief and he holds me, straining our bodies together. There is a silence while we clutch at each other and pant – his heavy breathing is the only thing that exists in my world as I lay my head against his bare chest and shut my eyes. And then he raises my head and gazes into my upturned face and finally gives me what I want; one of his kisses; oh, he lowers his face to mine and it is firm, passionate, hot-blooded…
Oh, yes! I pounce on him, knocking him over backwards. I’m straddling his chest, hunched over him so eagerly, my hands on either side of his face, kissing him back with everything I’ve got. He closes his eyes and his hands come up and rest themselves on my hips… I allowed myself to start softly mapping his body with my tongue and lips; I remember licking his shoulders, nibbling at his hipbones, taking just the head of his large, dripping cock into my small mouth and sucking gently…


He clicks those elegant fingers and I shake myself and look up – he is staring down at me, trying to look severe, but I can see the amusement flickering in his smouldering black eyes. I know we are late, but my heart aches because I want to touch him again so badly. He knows this; he reaches down and runs one perfect hand gently through my damp, dishevelled hair.

I rise and do up his shirt buttons. Our eyes meet and I smirk slightly. I take the opportunity to press myself against him; my arousal against his. His hands slide gracefully around me to the small of my back, where he strokes the sensitive skin, casually. It’s so sensual. I feel sexy, here in his arms.
The buttons are all done up. I arrange his collar. I take a long time doing it so that I won’t have to leave his arms. Until eventually he realises that I’m procrastinating and raises an eyebrow, smirking.
He moves his hands down and cups my buttocks. I moan softly then grin at him and wriggle, running my hands down his chest. I reach around him to the bed, where his belt lies, and I pick it up and slide it around him, through the loops in his trousers. I blush as I look at the belt; it brings back so many memories. He’s still holding me as I do it up at the front…

-----------------

There are lots of other fantasies. My feeding him, washing him, kneeling at his feet and licking his shoes… I need help. I must be ill. I think I’m ill. It’s terrible.
But wouldn’t it be wonderful.

END OF HARRY’S POV

For some reason, Snape seemed loathe to cast Blind Love on Harry until the boy had mastered the counter-curse so thoroughly that he could chant it in his sleep.

One evening, five days later, when Snape had made Harry recite the counter-curse non-stop over fifty times, Harry was finally told that they would now have a go at it.

Snape was seated in his chair with his legs crossed, looking troubled as usual, but fully dressed this time. Harry was sitting on the end of his desk this time, holding a piece of parchment on which Snape had clearly printed ‘Animadverto’ - the counter-curse, so that Harry would have no excuse to get it wrong. Harry was getting irritated.
"Repeat it again."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"An-im-ad-verto."
“Don’t take that insolent tone with me, Potter.”
Snape picked up his wand, which had been lying lazily on his desk before him.
"Alright. I suppose we should try it now. It is fortunate, Potter, that this particular counter-curse does not require a wand to be effective - but timing is still of the essence. You will need to watch my body movements for notice of when to begin - although, for the present, I shall count down and give you fair warning.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry.
“Are you ready?”
Harry gulped and nodded, still sitting on the edge of the desk. He had suddenly become very nervous. Snape gripped his wand tightly and took a deep breath. He looked nervous too.
“Right. Three, two, one. Caecus Amora!"

And Harry muttered the counter-curse, closing his eyes with the effort…

And was suddenly struck, in the moment in which it became obvious his attempt to counter the spell had been successful, with the overwhelming desire to pretend that the counter-curse hadn't worked and launch himself at Snape…

HARRY'S POV

Go on. Do it! He'll never know you're pretending. And you're wearing those black lace panties for him again…

END OF HARRY'S POV

There was an anxious silence as Snape waited for the outcome of the spell and Harry fought with himself, trying to decide what to do...

Harry took a deep breath, opened his eyes and turned his head so that he was facing Snape. Snape was watching him apprehensively, still holding his wand…

And Harry closed his eyes blissfully and allowed his face to break into a blissful smile - the one which he'd noticed himself wearing the other night in the mirror, hopefully, and lowered himself backwards slowly, sensually, until he was lying on his back along Snape's desk. Seductively, or so he hoped, he stretched and arched his back.
"Potter! Get up off my desk before I hex you!" Snape's voice was harsh, but broke in places. Harry ran the fingers of one hand teasingly down his torso, moaning delightfully - and continued downwards - until his travelling hand was captured and stopped in its progress by another, larger hand, which gripped it severely.
"I said. Stop. It."
Snape's voice washed over him and through him - Harry sighed softly and parted his legs, bringing the hand that clasped his down and brushing it against his lips.
There was an audible gulp from above him.

"Severus. Come and make love to me."

He whispered it so softly he was unsure whether Snape had heard him or not, and opened his eyes. Snape was standing over him, his eyes filled with some strange emotion Harry didn't comprehend, his chest rising and falling heavily as he gazed down at Harry, who moaned softly and raised his head, parting his lips, as if for a kiss… Snape's deep black eyes widened and he began to lower his head - then froze and straightened up, looking horrified. He released Harry's hands, raised his wand and muttered something.

Harry realised that this must be the spell for the caster to remove Blind Love, and blinked hard and shuddered, trying to look confused. Snape was glaring at him incredulously. Harry tried to look innocent.
"How…how did I get here, s-sir?"
"You idiot, you got the counter-curse wrong!"
"What did I do?"
Snape froze as though he’d been slapped. His eyes widened.
"You don't remember?"
"Not a thing."
Snape looked terrified and sat down abruptly in his chair. Harry scratched his head and put on a highly puzzled expression.

SNAPE'S POV

He doesn't remember a thing! How can this be? Oh, Merlin! This is unfair - this is too cruel, this is far too tempting… I mustn't! But if he doesn’t remember…
Damn him! I cannot allow myself to sink to this level, it is utterly pathetic…
And if he were not under the spell he would never, ever, ever want this… Oh, look at him! I can hardly keep myself in my chair when he is around. I cannot do anything else now, I must - the desire to hold him, to touch him, it is too strong, and he’d never know, he’d never know...
But I cannot; I’d never forgive myself! He deserves more than this, he deserves to be made love to, not groped by a sad old man whom he hates…no, you can never give him more, Severus, because he would not want it. He does not want you. This is all you can ever have with him…

Oh, what am I going to do?

END OF SNAPE’S POV

Snape was shaking.
"R-really? Nothing at…at all? This is very important, Potter - are you sure?"
Harry shrugged.
"I really don't remember anything, sir. Was I…was it really dreadful?"
Snape looked up.
His eyes were on fire.
Harry shivered.
"I'm afraid it was, Potter, but no matter. We'll do it again. Get ready."
He pointed his wand at Harry and spoke the curse again. Harry, feeling bold now, muttered the counter-curse very quietly (so Snape wouldn't hear that he'd got it right) and then looked up.

Snape was watching him carefully, his black eyes flashing.
"Well, Potter?"
Harry advanced on him, smiling.
"Well, Severus?"
Snape smirked and just stood there, watching him. He put his wand down and placed his hands on his hips.
"So. It hasn't worked again?"
Harry didn't stop moving towards him, and their eyes locked.
"Oh, Severus. I love you."
Harry had reached him. Gathering all his courage, Harry allowed his hands to reach out and touch - to snake up Snape's chest and onto his shoulders. Snape didn't stop him and he allowed himself to move even closer. Snape's eyes positively smouldered as Harry gazed up at him. Suddenly Harry felt hands grasp his buttocks and he was pulled roughly against his professor. He gasped in surprise and lifted his head, burying his face in Snape's neck and moaning softly.
"Mmm, Severus…what can I do to please you? I want to please you."
"Do you now?"

Severus was looking at him as if Harry was edible and Severus hadn't eaten in weeks. Years.

"I do. There's nothing that I wouldn't do to please you, Se -"
But he was cut off - Snape had slid one hand up Harry's body to his face, lifted it…and pressed his lips to Harry's.
He took control instantly – all Harry had to do was respond as his mouth was filled and licked, thoroughly. Harry moaned loudly as his lips were parted and a warm tongue slid into his mouth. Snape smirked against his lips.
"Wanton little creature, aren't you?"
Harry nodded happily and moaned again.

HARRY'S POV

Oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin I can't believe this is really happening! Oh I think I’m going to die! He kisses in exactly the way I'd pictured him doing - dominant, passionate - it's so wonderful, so perfect… I'm so hot; my fingers dig themselves hard into his back as his free hand slides up my bottom to the small of my back, pulling my quivering body even closer, hard. And oh, I am! I really, really am!

END OF HARRY'S POV

And then, to Harry's delight, those hands paused - and suddenly delved into the back of Harry's trousers and grabbed Harry's buttocks again, this time underneath his clothes. Harry groaned loudly. Snape froze.

SNAPE'S POV

What’s this…is he…is he really…wearing l-lace knickers? Oh Merlin, he is so beautiful - I have to look - I need to see this! Is he wearing them for me? I hope so! I need this. I need to see… I need to see…

END SNAPE’S POV

Snape pulled back and fumbled almost frantically to lift up Harry’s t-shirt and undo his trouser buttons. Harry moved toward him and deepened their kisses and, through the glorious yellow haze that seemed to be surrounding him, Harry felt his trousers slide down his hips and puddle at his feet. He looked down. There was a very loud groan from above him.
“Oh Merlin, my - Harry!” And Snape had grasped his buttocks again and was groping him roughly. He obviously likes the lace, Harry thought, grinning to himself against Snape’s lips. Snape’s hands slid inside the knickers and grabbed him again, even harder.

And Harry started to worry.
It suddenly struck him that he wasn't ready for whatever Snape might want to do him. What if he wanted to go further than kissing and…and this touching?
Surely he wouldn't? He wouldn’t take advantage?
Harry had never really been with anybody like…like this before. He was starting to get nervous. Was he ready? Was this the right time? No. He didn't want this - he wanted to be in love and make love and…he didn't want a quick, guilty fumble and then for Snape to ignore him afterwards – and didn’t Snape HATE him? Why was he groping him if he hated him? What a bastard! Harry suddenly felt used and angry - didn't the man have any morals - why was he taking advantage like this?

But Harry couldn't pull back - he was supposed to be under a spell, after all.

Harry realised how much of his fantasies about Snape were not just about the sex – it was the emotion that they shared in the fantasies that made it so wonderful. Whenever the Snape in his head touched him, it was because he loved him.
The real Snape hated him – the real Snape wasn’t in love with him; the real Snape was a bastard who just making the most of an opportunity to grope his hated rival’s son and get his own back, and get a few moments of guilty pleasure.

Wasn’t he?

Completely confused, Harry tried to slow down their kisses, gently licking at Snape's upper lip with his tongue. Suddenly (and to Harry's slight relief) Snape froze and pulled back. He had an appalled and disgusted look of 'Oh Merlin what have I DONE?' plastered across his face and Harry melted - it's alright, Severus, I don't mind - and he reached up to kiss his professor again, trying to stroke his face. And found himself held back by the same strong arms that had been clasping him so tightly only moments before. He struggled slightly.
"Stop. Sort your clothes out then go and sit in my chair." The voice was cracking with emotion.

Harry pulled his trousers up and slid past Severus and sat in his chair, doing up the buttons. And then Severus had his wand again and had spoken the counter-curse aloud and Harry was blinking in confusion and rubbing the back of his head and asking what just happened and…and Severus looked so upset that Harry almost flew out of the chair and wrapped himself around him and kissed him and told him it was ok and he didn't mind and, actually, would Severus please do all that again, please…

But he didn't. Because he didn’t understand.

Harry just sat in Snape's chair and stared at him. Snape's chest was heaving - he looked as though he might explode at any moment. Harry blinked.
"What did I do that time?"
"It doesn't…oh…oh, POTTER YOU MORON how can you have got it wrong twice in a row?" Snape screamed, snatching up a jar from a shelf and flinging it angrily in Harry's direction. It hit the wall about half a metre from Harry's head and Harry covered his face with his hands. Then glared at Snape indignantly from behind his fingers.
"What's wrong with you? I'm sorry I got it wrong - do you want to try again?"
All the colour drained out of Snape's face and he shuddered. Harry couldn't help feeling hurt.

"No I do not - I shall get somebody else to perform it on you. You are dismissed, Potter."

Harry sighed and got out of the chair, sadly. As he passed Snape, on his way to the door, he paused. He thought he ought to give it a try, so he whispered softly:

"Was I really that bad?"

"OUT, NOW!"

And several of the jars lining the walls erupted over his head and Harry was running out of the room and down the corridor. He didn't stop until he was in his bed in Gryffindor tower with the covers pulled over his head to hide the fact that stormy tears were streaming down his face from Ron and the others, who were all in bed. After about ten minutes, Harry found himself prodded in the back and surfaced. Ron and Neville were looking at him nervously.
"What's happened, Harry?"
"Nothing."
"Snape being a bastard as always? He's never made you cry before, Harry. It must have been bad."
"It's alright. I'm not having any more extra lessons with him. It's ok."
"I should think not. Maybe you should tell Dumbledore if he's being really mean to you, Harry."
"No, no, it's fine, Ron, really. I'll go to sleep now."

Harry lay awake most of the night, wrapped up sadly in his blankets and wondering what on earth he was supposed to think now. Snape hated him. But Snape had touched him and kissed him and moaned so wonderfully against his mouth and seemed to want him so badly... But Snape hated him. And therefore Snape was a bastard for touching him. But he liked Snape. But Snape hated him…

If only Snape had confessed feeling for him after that kiss, it would have been ok. But instead he threw Harry out and shouted at him. So Snape definitely hated him, so Snape was definitely a bastard…

With all the thoughts whirring around in his brain, it took him hours to drift off to some form of sleep, and he finally closed his eyes just as the sun was starting rise. Little did he know, many floors below him, someone else had given up on sleep completely and had taken to pacing about his rooms in an attempt to calm the overwhelming panic and guilt that was steadily rising inside him.


A/N: Aww they like each other and don’t know it! Fancy any more? I will finish writing other chapters if you do – please let me know! In the next chapter, Harry and Snape will probably finish off practicing Blind Love so that in the chapter after that there’ll be Voldemort and they’ll have to do the spell for real…
I’ve had a very difficult week – reviews (and writing this story) really cheer me up! Love to you all! Meiow!