Solanaceae Serenity

Title: Solanaceae Serenity
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/ Severus Snape
Warnings: drug use, explicit language, explicit sexual scenes with a person under 18, self-harm, slash.
Summary: Harry discovers a potion in a restricted text that helps to alleviate his troubled thoughts. Set during Harry's sixth year. AU. No HBP Spoilers.

AN: If you do not appreciate slash, meaning relations between two males, then I suggest you refrain from reading this story. Also, if you are squicked by drug abuse and self-harm, this story is not for you.

DISCLAIMER: All recognised characters are property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury publishing and anyone else I have inadvertently missed out. No profit is being made from this endeavour.




Solanaceae Serenity- Chapter Four

~~~

Gradually, over the next month, Harry became healthier, if not happier. Still he spoke to no one, a recluse, and spent as much time in Snape's rooms as the man permitted which, admittedly, was quite a lot.

But it dawned on Harry, quite abruptly, a problem he could never have foreseen or fathomed, and rendered him into a new depression. Of course Snape noticed, for now he knew Harry all too well having spent as much time as they had together, but Harry wouldn't talk about it.

Realisation really was a very frightening thing to encounter, Harry mused. Especially when the actual realisation was completely absurd and something that, no matter how desired could ever possibly happen.

Slowly but surely, Harry retreated back into his old ways, avoiding everyone, including Snape, and spending numerous sleepless hours in his brewing room. A slightly longing tempted him to again taste the deadly poison, while another urged at the no-return option. Instead, incidentally, he discovered a third option.

Darkness takes the soul,
Filling the endless black hole.
No more can light permeate,
Only can it infuriate.

A ceaseless abyss of hurt,
Hate is always on the lurk.
It doesn't matter where you are,
You'll always end up with the scar.

The scar of hate, of lies,
The scar of severing all ties.
The scare of pain and tears,
Of living all your fears.

Embrace those fears as life,
Embryoid them in your skin with a knife.
Live with them forever,
And content you'll be together.

It was crude, and harsh, but nevertheless filled the increasing void that was becoming too hard to ignore. First Harry used a burning wand tip just above his knee, but after deciding he needed a change, graduated to the use of a blade.

At first his cuts were hasty, jagged and angry, ugly. But as the weeks melted on and on into nothingness he realised that slower, more precise cuts not only felt better, hurt more, but were something nice to look at- like a tattoo of sorts. It wasn't just for the tingling sensation of skin wounds, but for the more intense flesh wounds, in which he engraved a certain persons initials. The letters were as big as his hand, situated in the middle of his left thigh, which, up until then, had remained unscathed. He reopened the wounds every week; to be sure his body would be marred with yet another scar, only one he had a choice in.

Harry knew it was useless to pine, and assumed that what and whom he was actually pinning over, the reasons for it in any case, were probably completely confused. He'd never loved anyone and neither had he been loved- so how did he know that what he was feeling was actually love, or lust? The simple answer was that he didn't. Harry couldn't be sure, but only time would tell.

It was crazy, and he knew it, but this time it was Harry who sought Snape out. Even the cutting wasn't enough of a distraction for Harry to forget those peaceful hours on the couch, simply in each others company, not having to make conversation or anything at all. He missed it, simple as that.

Timidly Harry knocked on Snape's door like he used to, swathed invisibly in his dad's old cloak. It took but a moment for the door to be answered, Snape's voice loud and clear in the almost deserted hallway.

"Yes?"

"It's me, Professor. May I come in?" Where in previous times he was polite and respectful only for show, Harry was now very conscious of the fact that he very much meant it. He was admitted wordlessly, and took his usual place on the couch, a small smile, the first in weeks, on his face.

Still unspoken, Snape handed him a bowl of soup, like the time that felt so long ago, which similarly Harry couldn't keep down on his first attempt at consumption.

"You haven't been taking care, Potter." Snape said when Harry returned from the bathroom, eyeing him hawk-like as he slowly ate the second bowl of soup.

Knowing not to shrug, Harry managed to verbalise an answer. "I've not had an appetite, Sir."

"And you haven't been to see me. Can you tell me why? I'm curious to know." And Harry knew that he probably was too, and not just saying it.

"I'd like to, but honestly I can't. You know I'd only keep my secrets for a very good reason. Not that I don't..." Harry paused, another realisation coming to him, but this time a very pleasant one. "I trust you, Professor Snape. I would tell you if I thought you needed to know. Please don't try to use Occlumency on me though, really, it's quite mundane, actually." Harry gave a grim smile, which brightened marginally when Snape's hand found his shoulder and gave a squeeze.

"I suppose I can restrain myself on this one occasion." A pause. "Do you want to stay here tonight? You're not looking very rested at all."

This time a much bigger, more genuine smiled graced Harry's pallid face. "Oh, yes please Sir."

Snape nodded. "Good, then you should rest now." He flicked his wand and summoned bedding for Harry to sleep on the couch, like he had so many times before.

"Goodnight, and thank you." Harry said softly, before shyly offering himself to Snape in hope of an embrace- Harry wasn't disappointed as he held the other man close, tucking his face into Snape's chest for a short period before releasing him.

Just the like first time, Harry slept very soundly indeed.


~~~

With morning came breakfast and, best of all in Harry's opinion, Snape himself. He greeted him with a smile and diligently ate all his breakfast- porridge with honey and, a surprise, orange juice instead of pumpkin. Snape had the same, even opting for juice instead of his usual tea or coffee.

The atmosphere was slightly tense, and Harry knew, from Snape's expression, that Snape was deeply contemplating something. It made Harry uneasy for some reason, and he began unconsciously picking at the scabs on his thighs, hardly even noticing the sting of pain that was really quite painful.

Snape opened his mouth to word his thoughts, most likely a troubling question, when something unusual caught his sharp, black gaze. "Is that blood, Potter?" he asked, noticing the spreading dark-red patch on the boys' jeans where his fingers were fidgeting.

Harry startled, and noticed what he was doing, his eyes going wide. He jumped up from his seat- there was no way that Snape could see what he'd done to himself, for he surely wouldn't understand.

"No..." Harry stammered, "I mean yes, but it's nothing, just a scratch. I'm fine, you know how clumsy I am." He was so caught up with the fact that Snape might find out, that he didn't notice the older man standing and starting towards him.

"I think I should take a look at it anyway, that's a decent amount of blood. It could be septic." Snape said, gesturing towards Harry's thigh.

"No, really!" Harry said, his voice higher and sharper than usual, breaking slightly, unable to cover his obvious guilt. He knew that if Snape saw his own initials carved into his leg, there's be no saving himself from the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's- or Snape's wrath.

Without thinking, Harry made a mad dash for the door, but of course didn't make it- Snape's strong arms closed firmly around him from behind and in that instant Harry could do nothing other than relax into them, relishing in the embrace of the man he knew he almost certainly loved. He didn't notice the tear that leaked out of one of his eyes, tracing a crystalline path down his inflamed cheeks.

"Are you going to let me help you, Harry?" Snape whispered into Harry's ear, his grip slackening slightly as he turned Harry to face him. Seeing the tear he wiped it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

Contemplating, Harry knew there was only one possible answer. "Yes, of course." He croaked, and allowed himself to be guided into the bathroom. He sat down on the side of the tub, his shoulders cold after having Snape's warm hands removed from them.

"You need to take your jeans off Harry, quickly before the blood coagulates or they'll stick to you and make the wounds worse." Snape said, still in that softer voice he'd been using. It wasn't until then that Harry realised that Snape had called him by his given name. Twice.

He unbuckled the belt holding up his Dudley-sized jeans, pausing, as the next few moment were going to be the last that Snape wasn't aware of his infatuation. Snape would know that he, Harry James Potter, wanted Snape so much that he punished himself by carving 'SS' upon his thigh. Nevertheless, and with obvious reluctance, Harry stood and peeled away the bloodstained jeans from his marred thighs.

Snape must have been expecting self-inflicted wounds, but his eyes flickered slightly when he saw the two very precise letters- although slightly blurred, as those were the cuts that were bleeding and causing all the blood.

"Sit still while I clean them up." Snape said unemotionally, his expression bland. Harry complied and watched as Snape pressed a potion-soaked cloth to his leg. Hissing at the sting, but not moving, Harry frowned when he saw the wounds were completely healed, aside from thin, silvery scars.

"The scars will fade with time, but not entirely. A scar-reducing potion might improve it a little, but it's doubtful." Snape informed as he finished cleaning up both thighs and wiped them clean of blood.

"Thank you." Harry said quietly, standing up and feeling very exposed in just his pants. Snape was looking at him now, but Harry couldn't decipher what he was thinking.

Then, suddenly, he spoke. "Come here, Harry." He said, opening his arms slightly. Releasing a pent up breath of relief, Harry felt himself enveloped within the firm, strong embrace. His face was against Snape's thin chest, Harry inhaling the masculine potion-y scent from his robes contentedly.

Smiling when the arms tightened, Harry sighed happily when Snape's chin rested lightly on the top of his head.

"I want you to promise me you wont do that again Harry. If I've told you once, I've told you many- come down and see me, if only for a distraction. Don't be afraid or embarrassed, you can tell me what you're thinking or why..." Harry cut him off.

"But don't you see!" he said, pulling away from Snape slightly. "It's painful being around you knowing that what... what I desire, I'll never have, and it hurts! It really hurts! You've no idea..." Harry put his forehead to Snape's shoulder, resisting the urge to scratch at his freshly healed thighs.

"Harry I..." But Snape appeared to be utterly lost for words, something that he hadn't been in a very long time.

"I know, it's okay. I know you'll never like me that way, and I don't blame you but..."

"No." Snape said firmly. "It's not that. It's not only highly inappropriate, but certainly not something the school would condone, even if I don't especially teach you."

Harry looked up at the older man, frowning. "But other than that, there is the possibility?"

Snape gave a sharp nod, his eyes showing for a moment something other than hard indifference. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. "But Harry, you must realise that you're what, sixteen? I'm thirty-eight, you must remember. More than twice your age, which, even in this world, is not entirely appropriate."

"Forget age, I don't like you for your age. I like you for you, however strange that may be." Harry smiled lightly. "And I can't help that I... I never actually thought it possible for us to be together, but..." He reached up and trailed his fingertips down Snape's cheekbone, then along his strong jaw, which was marred with a slight prickle that Harry enjoyed. He desperately wanted even just one kiss, but knew it to be impossible. "How can something so possible be so impossible?" He murmured.

Snape almost smiled. Almost. "Quite easily, I would think."

"Tell me about it." Harry said, his arms now around Snape's neck, his hands twisting the long, slightly coarse black hair that hung there. He shivered in delight as Snape's large hands stroked down his back, stopping just a breath away from the curve of his arse.

Harry clenched his eyes tightly shut, resisting the urge to press and rub himself against Snape's body. "I wish you could keep touching me, I need you... I want you feel you so much... " He said breathily, pulling a little too hard on the hair entwined in his fingers, and biting his lower lip until he tasted blood.

"You're touching me now Harry, just as much as I'm touching you." Snape replied, and Harry pulled back to see an amused smirk on his face.

Harry sighed. "I know. But it'll never be enough."

It was probably one of the most difficult thing he'd had to do, and that was hiding his heart-felt disappointment.


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