Nights of Gethsemane

[[Terrible Tues - thanks. I finally started re-reading Wuthering Heights the other day.
libldyjean, Ginnyvere, Cassandra Riddle - Thanks so much!
Rainien - Yeah, I find that set-up annoying to. Doesn't fit either of the characters in my opinion!
bella black - Ah yes, I do think Harry excels at pissing off Snape. How dangerous that act is remains to be seen.....


Here is the second part of chapter 43.]]

Snape’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and Harry sat up as best as he could, as the chain was only as long as his arm and prevented him from moving very far. Snape stepped into the library carrying the breakfast tray in his hand. He removed the chain from Harry’s cuff and Harry organised the blanket around himself so he could eat. Snape placed the tray over Harry’s lap and adjusted the legs on it to make it stable. He tapped it with his wand and a plate of sandwiches appeared along with Snape’s mug of tea, a glass of pumpkin juice, cubes of cheese, green grapes, and biscuits. Snape retrieved his mug and sat on the other end of the couch.

Harry eagerly bit into the sandwiches which were stuffed with sliced turkey. Once the food hit his stomach, the shakes left him and he felt almost physically normal again. Now that he was warm and had food in his stomach, he allowed himself to think back over the memories. As horrible as they were, he felt he needed to keep them in his mind. He'd been responsible for their capture and Hermione’s torture, but he also helped his friends escape. He now understood why Malfoy unnerved him so much. He had forgot the horrific spells Malfoy had used to torture him, but some deep part of his brain remembered all the fear and pain.

Most of all, Harry felt he could trust Snape now. Snape tried to warn him that recovering the memories might be dangerous and he'd been honest in his descriptions of what happened to Harry after his capture. The only thing that puzzled him was that one memory of Snape, which didn’t really fit with the others. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Snape had raped him shortly after his capture. But that didn’t make sense either. Snape told Voldemort that Harry was a virgin and Snape wouldn’t have lied to Voldemort.

Besides, Snape didn’t act like a man who was taking advantage of something he always wanted. He could’ve lied to Harry and claimed that Voldemort wanted multiple visions of sex or insisted on having sex with him during times when Voldemort hadn’t checked the memory. Harry wouldn’t have known the difference. No, Snape had probably been trying to heal him. Harry remembered how he had hated it when Snape touched him at the beginning, even when the older wizard had been trying to help him. He thought the worst of Snape then, but he could hardly be blamed; it wasn’t as if Snape had done anything to dispel that belief.

Harry discreetly glanced at Snape and noticed Snape was watching him while pretending he wasn't. Harry didn't think the intense fear he'd seen in Snape's eyes was because Snape was worried he'd harmed his Master's prized possession. No, it was something else, because Snape wasn’t as relaxed as normal. Even with his bad vision, Harry recognised the subtle signs – the squareness of his shoulders and the very mechanical way he drank from his mug.

Harry realised how difficult this whole situation must be for Snape. He was forced to not only align himself with the son of the man he had hated more than anyone else in the world, but also try to keep him happy. On top of that, he must remain in the favour of a demanding, cruel Master who would kill Snape the second he discovered or even suspected his treachery. It wasn't as horrific as what he himself had to go through, since Snape chose to involve himself with Voldemort and wasn't tortured on a regular basis. But … even with Snape’s mostly selfish desire to free himself of a personal hindrance, he still seemed to be trying to help Harry as best he knew how most of the time. Even with all his cruelty and insults, he still managed to make Harry feel considerably safe and protected. Snape cared for him, Harry felt sure of it, even if Snape would never admit it out loud.

“Shall I fetch more?” Snape asked, after Harry had eaten the last of the grapes, finishing off his meal.

“No, I’m good. I want to train now.”

“I feel you should rest,” Snape insisted.

“Nah, I’m telling you, I’m fine.” Harry set the tray on the floor, stood up and stretched. He felt perfectly healthy, as if the horrible incidence with the potions and the memories had never happened. He wanted to train. Now that he was sure his friends had escaped, he felt as though he should concentrate on trying to get back to them as soon as possible. Snape stood and sent away the dishes with a flick of his wand.

“Follow me.” Snape led him up the stairs.

Harry eagerly trotted after him. “What are we working on today?”

“I feel that you should work on aim-”

“I swear to you, I’m fine,” Harry insisted.

“You will aim first,” Snape firmly responded with a glare at Harry to silence any further arguments. “We must be prudent; especially at this stage.”

Harry nodded and accepted the laser pointer. ‘At this stage’ could only mean they were near the end and he would challenge Voldemort soon. Harry couldn’t wait, he felt more than ready.

Snape created fake Death Eaters for Harry and spelled them to dance around the room in very realistic movements. When Harry turned towards them, they began to weave and were quick to dodge at the first hint of an attack. He had to learn to target them from the corner of his eyes. He knew the laser was faster than a spell so he tried to take that into account in his aiming. He'd been practising for a few hours when the Death Eaters suddenly vanished.

“Someone is here.” Snape Summoned the hamper of cleaning supplies to himself and thrust it into Harry’s hands, snatching the laser pointer from Harry as he did so. “On your knees. Clean.”

Harry dropped to his knees and pulled out the rag. He scrubbed at a spot on the floor as he watched Snape march across the room.

One of the thick double doors to the throne room slammed open and Avery stormed in. Harry’s fist clenched the rag tightly and he held down his hate. He wanted nothing more than to stride across the room and continue the beating he'd given Avery.

“I know you killed him, Severus!” Avery yelled as he marched across the room towards Snape, his robes billowing around his ankles like smoke. Snape stood still, his back straight and his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

“Killed who?” asked Snape, his voice deep and cold.

“Don’t play games with me!” Avery paused barely an arm span away from Snape and waved a finger at him. “Hathaway! You killed him!”

“I was informed that the Order killed him,” replied Snape with a hint of amusement to his voice. Although his wand was aimed directly at Avery, his whole manner spoke more of ease and confidence than aggression.

Avery’s face, which had been twisted and red, turned an ugly shade of purple at that comment. “You did it!” Avery screamed and Harry wondered if the Death Eater had snapped. “It’s no coincidence! He had the slave suck him off and then he died! I wanted to fuck him and suddenly I’ve fallen from His favour, saved only by my father!”

“You shouldn’t blame your mistakes-” Snape started, his voice still carrying mirth.

“NO!" Avery's hand jerked at Snape as if he were casting Dark Magic with his finger tip. "You did something to me! You messed with my mind!”

“And how did I do that? The Dark Lord certainly would’ve noticed any magic cast in his presence,” Snape calmly pointed out with smooth conviction. If Harry hadn’t known Snape was lying, he would’ve believed him.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you did! I’m on to you!” Avery snarled, looking positively deranged. “You and him!” He whirled to look at Harry. “You’re working together!” He strode towards Harry, clearly intending to harm him, and Harry had to struggle to keep his smirk off his face. He wanted Avery to come and try to hurt him just so he could rough the sick bastard up again.

A red spell raced in front of Avery, nearly striking him as it crossed his path and the Death Eater stopped dead in his tracks. Avery whirled around, whipping out his wand to point it at Snape who had his own wand pointed at Avery in return and a murderous look on his face.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Snape snarled, his voice dripping with venom. He marched towards Avery, his demeanour completely changed to that of a predator. He stopped about two arm spans away from Avery and turned his glare on Harry. “Get back to your work.” He flicked his wand at Harry and the young wizard felt the telltale static-like charge of Muffliato right before it filled his ears. Harry turned his eyes down to the floor and pretended to scrub the marble.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes focused on the marble for long and he peeked up to see the wizards pointing their wands at each other, both with murderous looks on their faces. Avery was yelling something at Snape. Snape glared at him and then responded with something that made Avery’s face twist even more and he was yelling again. Snape spoke again and Avery’s face went deathly white and he stumbled back a few steps. Snape’s face twisted into that horrible smile that chilled Harry to the bone. As Harry watched with fascination, Snape slowly advanced on Avery, speaking slowly but deliberately. Harry was reminded of a cat stalking its prey and Avery looked like a terrified mouse, scurrying backwards quickly, his wand firmly fixed on Snape but trembling the entire time. At the door, he paused, yelled something at Snape, and then hurried out.

Snape turned, cast the chaining spell on Harry, then strode quickly after the other Death Eater.

Harry stared at his retreating form, wishing desperately he could have heard the argument. What did Snape threaten Avery with to cause such a reaction?

After a minute, Snape returned, his posture and features back to their normal neutrality as if he hadn’t just argued with a fellow Death Eater. He spoke words Harry couldn’t understand and Harry pointed to his ear. Snape waved his wand and the buzzing left Harry’s ears while the chain disappeared.

“Never, ever look a Death Eater in the eyes,” Snape lectured. “Always play your part.”

“What did you say to him to make him leave?” Harry asked curiously.

“That’s none of your business,” Snape said firmly.

“Did you kill that Death Eater?”

“Don’t be stupid. How could I do that? You should resume your lessons.” He turned away from Harry and began to set up the exercise again.

Harry watched him from the floor. Snape had murdered that Death Eater, he was sure of it. Snape’s tone of voice and facial expression right now was exactly the same as when he lied to Avery. Had he really killed a man for sexually abusing Harry? Snape hadn’t killed Avery. But then, Avery hadn’t actually raped him and it sounded as though Avery’s father was important. Snape had been so angry the day after the rape and Harry had believed he'd just been in a bad mood. But now that he thought about it, could Snape have been… jealous? Harry knew in an instant he was right, but the thought was so startling, he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings and one of the fake Death Eaters almost ran into him.

“Don’t waste my time, Potter,” Snape said coolly. “You will train or return to your cage.”

“I’ll train.” Harry jumped to his feet and effortlessly shot down the fake Death Eater. He returned to the exercise, but couldn’t concentrate on it any longer. He kept sneaking glances at Snape who was focused on controlling the fake Death Eaters. Snape had been jealous, he was sure of it. The Potions Master had no other reason to kill the Death Eater who molested Harry.

Harry didn’t know what to think. It was the first time he was glad Snape was a crafty murderer. He was dying to know how Snape got the Death Eater killed without leaving the building. Snape said he'd heard the Order killed Hathaway. Was Snape in contact with the Order or had he been deflecting the blame? Harry hoped whatever Snape did could not be traced back to him in anyway. Harry's conscience nagged at him and for a moment he felt a bit of guilt over the Death Eater’s death, which he savagely pushed away. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he was the one who'd been abused. It wasn’t as if he told, or even suggested to Snape, that the Death Eater should be killed. Snape chose to murder him entirely on his own.

“Focus, Potter,” ordered Snape and Harry realised he hadn’t been aiming at all.

“Sorry.” He turned his attention back to the exercise. “If you were going to murder someone without getting close to them, how would you do it?”

“If you seriously think I will answer that question, then you are more stupid than I previously thought, which is really quite something,” Snape responded sharply.

Harry wasn’t going to let Snape rile him this time. “You should be careful. Other people might suspect you of murdering that Death Eater.”

“Avery is a jealous fool who has levelled several outrageous accusations at me.” Snape's voice clearly communicated his disgust. “I’m not concerned.”

Harry picked his words with care. As much as he appreciated the effort, the act was rather hot-headed on Snape’s part. If Voldemort suspected Snape had killed that Death Eater, Snape would be taken from him. Harry needed to warn Snape not to do it again. “If another Death Eater… does what Hathaway did and dies, it will look very suspicious. Or even if Avery dies, then-”

“Of course I know that,” Snape answered scornfully. “Unlike you, I do use my mind quite often.”

Harry realised that Snape would continue to insult him if he persisted so he let the issue drop. He hoped the other Death Eaters suspected Snape of killing Hathaway as well and wouldn’t try to rape him anymore. If any of them did try to touch him, he’d kill them himself, just like he’d kill Avery. The thought of it made his heart race and he turned back to Snape.

“I think we’ve been prudent long enough. I’d like to dodge.”

Snape gazed at him for a moment before he nodded. “You will attempt to ‘kill’ the Death Eaters by causing their spells to hit each other.” He created six large black clouds of balls that began to roam around the room as if they were living creatures. Harry tossed the laser pointer back to Snape and watched them as they floated around the room aimlessly. Suddenly, a ball shot out of one of them at him and soon they were all attacking him. Harry targeted one, trying to get the others to strike it.

“How will I know if one was hit since we aren’t using spells?” Harry asked, as he and the fake Death Eater both dodged out of the way of a ball at the last second.

“I have spelled them to vanish if they are hit,” explained Snape.

“You know….” Harry ducked out of the way of four projectiles and rolled across the floor before regaining his footing. “This is much more difficult than it would be to fight actual Death Eaters. These things can shoot from any direction.”

“It is better for you to be over-trained than not enough,” Snape pointed out. “Your window of opportunity is directly after an attack has been made. Like wizards, they cannot cast continuously.”

Harry nodded. He tried to keep track of how recently all six of them had fired at him, but it was too difficult and he soon got lost. He decided to focus on just two and waited for the perfect moment to dive between them. One shot at Harry before the other and he dove towards it while the other fired. His ploy was successful and the fake Death Eater vanished.

“I did it!” he shouted triumphantly and barely managed to dodge in his distraction.

“Concentrate,” Snape reminded him.

Harry nodded and picked out two more black forms to focus on. He tried the same attempt, but they had got cleverer and the second didn’t fire at Harry.

“These are smarter than actual Death Eaters,” Harry joked.

“Never underestimate your enemy,” Snape ordered him sharply. Simultaneously, the Death Eaters shot two balls at Harry and he barely managed to avoid getting hit.

Harry reminded himself to concentrate and focus. He tried several more ploys but was unsuccessful and had not managed to ‘trick’ any more of them by the time Snape stopped the exercise.

“That is sufficient.”

Harry was disappointed with himself. He wanted to be better than ‘sufficient.’ He trudged after Snape, gazing longingly at the couch in the library as he passed it. He wanted to curl up in front of the fire with a cup of tea. He was bored of his cell and its stark white walls.

He stepped into the shower and planned his approach. He doubted Snape could leave him in the library alone for long even if he were chained to the couch. He needed to convince Snape to remain in there with him.

“Could I read books on magical theory if you remained with me and took the books from me the instant someone showed up?” Harry asked as he soaped off his arms.

Snape looked up from his book. “What do you wish to know?”

Harry thought. “I guess I should read your best books on the Hallows and wand lore as well. If you had any on Horcruxes-”

Snape made a noise of derision.

“I thought that if anyone had books about them it’d be you,” Harry quickly explained. “I mean, you had already heard of them before I told you about it and Voldemort doesn’t seem like the type who would’ve shared that with his followers. Even you.”

“While I do possess a few tomes that briefly describe Horcruxes and the spell used in the creation of them, I would not be allowed to have books on such Dark Magic even in the same room with you,” Snape pointed out.

Harry shrugged. “I know I’m not allowed to be with owls either. But we’ll need to find a way to destroy the last two Horcruxes if Ron and Hermione can’t. I guess you could just Avada Kedavra Nagini, but we don’t have the sword or a basilisk fang for the Diadem.”

“As I understand it, in order for a Horcrux to be destroyed, the object in which it is contained must be damaged beyond all repair,” Snape mused, closing his book. “There are several dark spells-”

“What about that potion you are making for Voldemort? Could you give it to Nagini secretly?” Harry asked as he rinsed his hair.

“Which one?” Snape's eyebrows drew in toward each other as he frowned.

“The one that would destroy my soul but leave my body intact,” Harry reminded him. “If you make it, you could give it to Nagini and kill the Horcrux. She’d still be alive, so he’d be a lot more reckless than if he knew his Horcrux was destroyed.”

Snape’s eyebrows knit together in his usual expression of extreme displeasure. “While I have been attempting to develop such a potion, I have been unsuccessful in my efforts thus far. The soul – its origins, its properties, its ultimate residence within the body….” Snape shook his head. “I fear this is one area where potions will be of little use.” He sounded very disgruntled and Harry could tell he hated admitting he was unable to fix something with potions. “My main obstacle is confirming a positive result. How can I do that even in the destruction of a single soul, much less the destruction of one residing beside another? To kill is easy. Destroying a body … simple, child’s play.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Human bodies are fragile and can be created and destroyed on a whim. But a soul survives even the most complete destruction of the body for most of us.”

Harry climbed out of the tub and dried off. “What about the Dementors?”

“In the admittedly limited literature on Dementors it is most commonly stated that they remove souls rather than destroying them. No one knows what happens to the souls after the individual has been Kissed. I advised the Dark Lord against this course of action as we currently have no way of knowing how completely the soul is removed. I doubt the Dark Lord would ever allow a Dementor to approach Nagini anyway.”

Harry frowned. “So, no possibility of a potion to destroy the Horcrux in Nagini without destroying her?”

Snape slowly nodded. “Not in our current situation. We have no sure way to test the potion ahead of time. If given enough time and wider access to materials, I might be able to create one, but I cannot do it while trapped here.”

“Not a lot of bodies with two souls,” Harry agreed as he thought over their problem. “Is there a way two souls can end up in the same body besides the creation of a Horcrux?”

“There are, but it is uncommon and often involves very Dark Magic. Such magic leaves traces that would be difficult to disguise from the Dark Lord,” Snape explained.

“So you've given up on it?”

“No, not yet.” Snape stood. “Come, you need to put on your potion and eat your dinner.”

Harry snatched the bottle of potion off the tub and spread his towel on the rug before he sat down, turning his back towards Snape. He drizzled the lotion over his legs and then passed the bottle back towards Snape who took it and knelt behind him.

“Books on the Hallows should be harmless enough, right?” Harry asked hopefully as he rubbed the lotion into his legs.

“While I am loath to deny you any literature,” Snape explained as he massaged the lotion into Harry’s upper back. “I should not have those books anywhere near you. I can give you a volume on wand lore if you insist on reading works I have already perused.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Harry tried to reassure him. “There may be a clue that you didn’t recognise that I would. If you want me to read my current book, I’ll do that. I just don’t want to be stuck in my cell for several more hours alone. I don’t feel tired at all. I didn’t train long enough.”

Snape stepped away from him and washed his hands in the sink. “You may read your Muggle books in the library after dinner.”

“Great.” Harry walked back to his cell. “What are the spells that will destroy Horcruxes?”

“I will tell you later.” Snape followed him in through the bars.

“Later?” Harry stopped in his tracks, turned around, and crossed his arms. “What happens if you die?”

“I don’t intend to die until after the Dark Lord is destroyed at the earliest.” Snape stepped over to the table and the smell of the conjured food made Harry’s stomach grumble.

Harry walked over to take his seat. “Accidents do happen, you know. What if he finds out what we are doing?”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry. “He won’t unless you-”

“Do something stupid,” Harry petulantly finished for him. “When have I done something stupid in front of him?”

“You’ve engaged in plenty of asinine behaviour in front of me and that is enough,” Snape answered.

“I told you, I-”

“This argument only further convinces me you are not ready,” Snape said in an icy voice. “Only yesterday you left my presence and stole my wand. If you are serious about your training then you will prove to me your discipline.”

Harry stabbed at his odd-looking, brightly orange stew, spearing a piece of chicken on the end of his spoon. He thought it was incredibly unfair of Snape to pin the entire argument on Harry, especially when Snape had instigated most of it. If he was hot-headed, then so was Snape. “I can’t work with you if you are going to be a complete arsehole to me. I’ll show you respect and discipline if you do the same for me.”

“I will train you however I see fit,” answered Snape, his voice soft and deadly.

“I don’t need to be trained every hour of the day.” When Snape opened his mouth to interject, Harry quickly continued. “When I’m in front of him, I know what I’ve got to do and I’ll do it, but I can’t stand being a slave every second of the day. If you want to insult me and try to make me lose my temper to test my patience, that’s fine, just tell me before you start.” Snape didn’t say anything in response and Harry looked down at his stew. “Is it supposed to be this colour?”

“It’s murgh tikka masala. You’ve never had it before?”

“No, they never had it at Hogwarts.” Harry stared at the piece of chicken on the end of his spoon suspiciously.

“The fodder you preferred at Hogwarts is hardly the epitome of cuisine.” Snape gazed at him with contempt. “Have you never been to a restaurant?”

“I rarely got to go places with my relatives,” Harry answered sullenly, hate stirring up in him. He wanted to dump the bowl over Snape’s head.

Snape adopted his neutral expression again. “It is a chicken curry that is one of the most popular dishes in all of Britain.”

“Curry … that’s Indian, right?”

“It is similar to an Indian dish known as murgh makhani - butter chicken, but murgh tikka masala, which translates to 'chicken pieces with spices,' originated in England.”

Harry hesitantly took a bite. It was quite delicious – moist, succulent chicken marinated in an unusual but savoury blend of spices. It was a bit spicier than anything else Snape had served him, but he could handle it. Snape motioned to the plate beside Harry which contained cut tomatoes, onions, a bowl of strange-looking white stuff, and flat pieces of bread in the shape of fat teardrops.

“In India, curries are traditionally eaten by hand, using pieces of naan," he pointed to the bread, "to scoop up the ingredients. The cucumber raita,” he motioned to the bowl of chunky white stuff, “is a yogurt side that will offset the spices. If the dish is too spicy for you, add more of that.”

“It’s fine,” Harry answered, feeling the slow burn of the spices coming on. He tore off a piece of the naan and used it to scoop up some stew, discovering rice which had been buried under the sauce. With the bread, it was absolutely delicious. He tried the raita, but the taste wasn’t to his liking.

“Mix it in if you wish to cool the dish down,” Snape instructed. “The flavours will grow on you.”

“You got a new cookbook?” Harry asked.

“I’ve had this one for several weeks.” Snape sipped his tea. “I had difficulty collecting the various spices in their unprocessed form. They aren’t very common here and Strix balks at flying far distances.”

Harry wondered where ‘here’ was but knew better than to try to ask. He assumed their location was somewhere outside of England, especially if Strix had to fly a far distance to collect ingredients for a popular British dish. Maybe he was on the mainland. “Did you make Strix fly it in the end?”

Snape snorted. “I would be waiting weeks.”

“Weeks?” Harry echoed. They really must be far from England. He tried to remember how long it had taken Hedwig to fly to France and back.

“Not for the reasons you are thinking,” Snape quickly corrected him. “She delivers and fetches post at an astoundingly slow rate. I assumed that she was carrying everything to a third party-”

“That’s how they're reading your letters?” Harry interrupted. He thought of his letter and how he had trusted Strix not to show it to anyone else. But if she had taken it to this other person…. She couldn’t have. He would’ve got in trouble for sending it.

“I assumed so.” Snape nodded. “If I was the Dark Lord, that’s what I would do. It would also help keep this location a secret, particularly if that third party had many different owl visitors. I have not discounted that possibility, but I have also begun to suspect that she is simply lazy and would rather hunt than deliver materials. Sometimes I have stepped out with a letter for her and she is no where to be found. When she finally returns, she has no new post for me. I have also purchased special food for her so that she will not have to spend time hunting and she will eat all the food and still hunt,” he complained, sounding very disgruntled.

Harry chuckled. “Where did you get her anyway?”

“The Dark Lord procured her for me when I was positioned here. I now rely on fellow Death Eaters to bring me anything of importance.”

“You must not get packages very often then, because they only arrive every three days at the most,” Harry commented as he chased the last piece of chicken down.

“I have visitors almost every day,” Snape informed him. “Most of them arrive and leave before you wake.”

“Why so early?”

“They have to go to work.” Snape sent away his empty mug.

“If you made this from scratch, then it must’ve taken you a long time to cook,” Harry mused. “And yet you have three full meals prepared each day, you still create new potions, brew ones for Voldemort and for me, do the household chores, read your books, interact with the other Death Eaters, and spend hours training me. I don’t think I sleep that long.”

“I take a potion that allows me to decrease the amount of time I spend asleep by removing the unnecessary stages. I have another potion that allows me to avoid sleep entirely if necessary, but I have found that my cognitive functions decline after its use, so I try not to take it more than once a week as necessary,” Snape explained. “I also use magic to aid in the household duties.”

“Can I take the potion? I could train for even longer.” Harry pushed his mostly empty dishes away.

Snape cleared them and stood. “'May I' and of course not. Youths need several hours of sleep more than adults and your body requires time to rest and heal.”

“I’m an adult,” insisted Harry.

“You’ve finished growing?” Snape arched an eyebrow at him.

Harry narrowed his eyes. If he said ‘yes’ then he would be admitting that he would always be smaller than Snape, but if he said ‘no’ then he would have to acknowledge that he wasn’t fully an adult yet. “I don’t know.”

“Then we will err on the side of caution. Fetch your book if you wish to read in the library.” Snape stepped out through the bars.

Harry retrieved his book from under the mattress and followed Snape into the library. He started to sprawl out on the couch when Snape ordered, “On the floor. If someone should come in, then you will do exactly as I command.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, disappointed that he couldn’t lie on the couch. He understood why he had to remain on the rug, but he hoped that Snape would relax his guard and let him on the couch. Snape started the fire again and Harry lay on his stomach, enjoying the warmth of the fire against his skin. Snape Summoned a thick packet of papers and sat on the couch, his feet near Harry’s.

Harry flipped to where he had left off in his book. The lights in the library were dimmer than the bright lights of his cell and even with the firelight, he had to strain his eyesight to read properly.

“You will injure your eyes,” said Snape. “Here.”

Harry turned his head and saw his glasses in the air about an arm span away. He reached out, grabbed them and slid them on. “Thanks.” He grinned at Snape, who gave him a curt nod and returned to his thick pile of papers.

With his glasses on, it was much easier for him to read and he finished the last few chapters of the book. He placed it on the floor and turned back to see Snape angrily writing all over a piece of parchment with the same type of quill he used for grading papers.

“Are you grading papers?” Harry asked, not believing what he was seeing. There was no way Snape was teaching along with everything else he was doing.

“No. I am correcting this imbecile’s grammar and spelling.” He slashed out an entire section with a vicious jerk of his quill.

Harry crawled closer and saw a pile of read letters on Snape’s right that were full of red ink as well. “Why do you correct them if they are never going to see the letters?”

“They will see it,” Snape answered, writing furiously at the bottom of the letter. “I send the originals back with my reply.”

Harry grinned. Only Snape would feel the need to instruct and insult at every single opportunity available to him. He inched closer to see what was written on the papers, but only managed to make out a big, red ‘NO’ before Snape put his hand on the papers, blocking Harry's view. “Do I need to take away your glasses?” He frowned disapprovingly at Harry.

Harry sat back on his heels. “Requests for potions?” he guessed.

Snape added the letter in his hand to the pile and picked up another one from the pile on the table. “Yes. There are far too many Death Eaters who believe that wearing black and swearing loyalty to the Dark Lord gives them the right to request asinine favours of his other followers.” His quill flourished as he made his corrections. “It’s amazing how some of these cretins ever managed to graduate from Hogwarts.” He crossed out a large chunk of text and wrote a very vicious looking reply at the bottom before tossing the letter on top of the corrected pile and picking up another. He skimmed it quickly, shaking his head. “Yes, another member of Pan troglodytes asking if I have a ‘quick, affective potion that will kill a person without leaving a trase,’” he read, emphasising the misspellings.

“They’re Death Eaters,” Harry commented contemptuously.

Snape fixed him with a glare. “What have I told you about underestimating your enemy? I’ve conversed with many Death Eaters who are far more intelligent than the likes of you. Even without prejudice on my part, the Slytherins would’ve earned marks above most of Gryffindor. There are too many who hold high rank due to birth rather than merit, but even among those there are plenty who are quite astute. Do you believe yourself to be more intelligent than Lucius?”

“I just don’t understand how someone who is smart would willingly become the slave of someone else since that’s basically what you are to Voldemort. I know you said the ideas were more important, but I still don’t understand why you hate Muggles so much that you’d give up your independence. Maybe they treated you like shit and that’s why you hate them, but my dad and his friends treated you like that, too, and they were mostly pureblood. And Voldemort treats you like shit unless you do exactly what he wants. I bow before Voldemort, because I have to, but you freely gave him control over you. Why become the slave of someone who wouldn't think twice about murdering you?”

Snape gazed at Harry for a bit, his eyes searching Harry’s face. Finally, he asked, “Do you want to know why I joined the Death Eaters?”

“Yeah.” Harry watched him. He had the feeling that he was close to an answer.

Snape raised his hand and a small, thin, red paperback book flew to him. “I will tell you why I joined the Death Eaters if you can read and understand this book.” He handed it to Harry who took it and read the title.

“The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe.” Harry glanced up at him. “I don’t understand why you want me to read this first.”

“I want to see if you can understand it. I’m curious to see if you really are more intelligent than the average Death Eater,” Snape explained. “If you can comprehend what’s written there then I will tell you what you want to know.”

Harry looked down at the cover of the book. “And if we fight Voldemort before I finish reading it?”

“Then I will tell you after,” Snape promised. “If you understand it.”

Harry nodded. He could always have Hermione explain it to him if it came to that, but he hoped that he’d be able to understand it for himself. He wanted to prove himself to Snape.

“I must return to my brewing.” Snape stood and organised his letters into two neat piles with a swish of his wand.

Harry stood and walked back to his cell, carrying his new book. Snape followed and spelled the bars open for him and Harry stepped through. He took off his glasses and handed them back through the bars to Snape before walking over to his bed. He placed his new book under the mattress. “D’you want the art book back?”

“I don’t intend to read it anytime soon. You may keep it.” Snape tucked the glasses away.

Harry decided to keep it. If nothing else, he could use it for wank material while Snape was off training Draco. Snape stepped in through the bars. “I will need to change your sheets.” He strode over to the bed and used magic to remove all the sheets with a quick flick of his wand. He examined the mattress closely, waving his wand over the surface and a green glow appeared.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Some time ago, I cast a spell on the mattresses to prevent fluids from penetrating into the fabric. I am checking to make sure it is still in place.”

“Why don’t you do that to the sheets so you don't need to wash them as often?”

“It makes the surface rough.” Snape waved his wand and the green glow disappeared. “Touch it now without it.”

Harry ran his hand over the surface; it was very soft and pliant under his touch. As soon as he lifted his hand, Snape waved his wand again. “Try it now.”

Harry returned his hand and found that the surface was harder than before with a slight rubbery feel. “Can you do that to clothes, too, if you wanted?”

“I always use this spell on my robes before I brew anything caustic.” Snape stepped away from the bed and floated the sheets out of the cell. He strode through the bars, closing them behind him.

“Why am I never allowed to see what’s in the laundry room?” Harry asked as he walked over to the bars and watched Snape float the sheets into the forbidden location.

“If you guess correctly, I may tell you.” Snape informed him before he stepped through the door.

Harry waited until Snape returned with the other set of linens before guessing.

“Dangerous chemicals.”

Snape did not respond as he opened the bars.

“Loads of sharp objects.”

Snape refit the mattress silently.

Harry thought. “Poisonous plants or animals or something.”

“I will see you in the morning.” Snape strode out through the bars.

“’Night.” Harry crossed over to the sink and brushed his teeth. After he had finished his evening routine, he retrieved his new book. It was a play and looked to be as challenging as Midsummer Night’s Dream. He glumly stared at the lines of Latin interspersed through the text on the first page, trying to read them with unfocused eyes. He would try again later. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and replaced the book, sinking off to sleep.

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