Nights of Gethsemane

Harry lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling rather than at Snape.

Snape nudged Harry over onto his side and ran his finger down the rows where Harry had been pierced.

“Your skin should be completely healed before the night is over. However, your back muscles are horribly knotted. If you train while you are this tense, you will only injure yourself.” The bed moved as Snape left it. “Come with me.”

Harry had the feeling that refusal would just result in magic being used to force him, so he begrudgingly reopened his eyes and slid towards the end of the bed, looking at Snape’s chest rather than his face. Snape picked up his outer robe, which had been draped over Harry’s chair, and wrapped it around Harry’s shoulders. Harry clutched it closed gratefully, glancing up at Snape to see a soft look in his dark eyes. Snape turned away and strode towards the bars.

Harry padded after him, not caring where they were going. Snape didn’t look back to see if Harry was following him, but when he reached the top of the stairs, he paused in the hallway, turning back towards Harry.

“I suppose you’ll want a shower first.”

A nice hot shower to scrub away Lucius and Snape sounded like a very good idea. “Yeah.” Harry started to retreat down the stairs when Snape strode towards his bedroom door. He opened it, glancing back at Harry as he stepped inside.

Although Harry had used Snape’s loo many times, he had never been in his bathtub, and he couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement over the prospect. He hated the feeling. He had got so used to his slavery that permission to use bathroom fixtures was now a privilege. He steadfastly strode after Snape as if he didn’t care either way.

“Shall I Summon the bubble bath?” asked Snape.

"No," Harry answered, struck with the realisation of how stupid he had been to assume that the bubble bath was Snape’s. How much of Snape’s true self lay towards the side that thought to give him bubble baths so that he would at least have some semblance of privacy while bathing, and how much of Snape had enjoyed that violent sexual session that had almost been rape? Pushing the thoughts from his mind, Harry dropped Snape’s robe to the floor and climbed into the huge bathtub. He twisted the tap and adjusted the water until it was as hot as he could stand. Closing his eyes, he stepped into the stream, enjoying the fiery spray.

Snape ignored Harry and stepped over to the sink where he began to brush his teeth as if he were trying to scrub them away.

Harry grabbed the soap and scrubbed himself down, pressing the bar hard against his skin as he tried to wash away what had just happened. He needed to be clean again. To feel himself again.

“Now that the Dark Lord regards you as broken," Snape said as he lathered up his face with shaving cream, "he has given permission for you to be brought from this place."

Harry waited for him to continue, not allowing himself to have hope.

“For weeks I have requested permission to bring you to Hogwarts so that I may resume my post as Headmaster, and the Dark Lord has finally acquiesced.”

Harry’s heart leapt. At Hogwarts, he could search for the Diadem. He could check on his former classmates and make sure they were okay. He could see Ginny.

Snape continued without lifting his eyes from the mirror. “Unfortunately, he has also decreed that you should be sent to Malfoy Manor for three days before joining me at Hogwarts. I have no intention of allowing Lucius or anyone else to take you from me. If I am forced to, I will give you a potion which realistically creates the appearance of death for several days at a time. This should give me enough time to search for the Elder Wand and the Diadem; after all-”

“Wait a minute,” Harry interjected. “What if they destroy my body?”

“They won’t,” Snape answered confidently as he flicked his razor in the sink. “The Dark Lord will be called to examine your body and, through an attempt to possess you, he will immediately uncover the ruse. When I am summoned, as Lucius will undoubtedly blame me, I will pronounce it similar to when you constructed your walls after you were tortured by the Dark Lord. I will advise them to simply leave you alone for a few days, after which you would recover with no ill effects. This plan does have its risks, which is why I would prefer to implement it only as a last re-"

"What if Lucius has the antidote? What if he calls someone who knows what it is? What if-"

"He won't," Snape said. "Only I know of the existence of this potion. The worst that may happen is the destruction of your body, but the Dark Lord would be incredibly foolish to allow that without first examining the 'corpse.' I do not think it a likely course of action, and again, this is one plan of many. Instead-"

If it was a choice between death or being Lucius's slave, Harry would choose death. "Give it to me now. Tell him that after what happened today, I went into that state and you can't bring me out unless you brew a special potion. You can leave, find the Elder Wand and the Diadem, and return to help me kill him."

Snape turned his head to look at Harry, the razor paused in his hand. "You are supposed to be broken, not hiding. If-"

"IT'S NOT HIDING!" yelled Harry. He calmed himself and then continued, "I want this over. Why wait?"

"Because he may not let me leave on my own should anything happen to you in my presence," answered Snape in a low voice. "I cannot search properly if another Death Eater has been attached to my side and my every movement is tracked." He paused and then added in a softer voice, "Just wait a few more days and this will be over."

"I'm tired of waiting," Harry said, turning away from Snape and bending his head forward into the hot water. "I've been waiting too long."

"Soon you will leave."

"Why am I even still here?" Harry whispered into the stream of water. "I need to get out of here. I can't stay here."

Snape gave no indication that he had heard. He left the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him.

Alone, Harry couldn't hold back his tears. He tilted back his head, letting the drips wash away in the hot water. He couldn't survive this. He didn't know how he had for so long, except by slowly killing parts of himself, every day. How much more of himself would he lose before he was freed? Even a few days seemed like ages; an eternity of tortures and pain which he no longer had the strength to endure. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to hang on for just a few more days. A week. He could do that. He had to.

When his tears were no longer mingling with the water, Harry stepped out of the shower. He grabbed one of Snape's thick towels and wrapped it around himself, drying his hair with another.

When he stepped into the bedroom, Snape said, "Come lie on my bed."

After what had happened, the last thing Harry wanted was to feel Snape's hands on his skin. He tightened his grip on his towel. "No. Give me the potion or whatever now and I'll return to my room."

"I need to massage it into your skin and my bed is the most comfortable surface in the house. If-"

"I don't want you to touch me," said Harry. "Just give me something to drink."

Snape's eyebrows drew in together. "I won't hurt you anymore tonight. I only want to heal you. I'll only be touching your back and your legs. I won't touch you anywhere else."

"What part of 'I don't want you to touch me' don't you understand?" Harry growled. "I'm leaving." He determinedly strode past Snape, his eyes fixed on the door.

Snape grabbed Harry's arm. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Harry yanked his limb out of Snape's grasp and slammed his fist into his nose. Bones crunched between his fingers and Snape's face and Snape staggered backwards, covering his nose with his left hand while he yanked out his wand with his right. Harry shifted into attack mode, ready to dodge the first spell, his eyes fixed on Snape’s wand. Snape aimed the wand at his own nose. When he removed his hand, there was no trace of Harry's attack. The wand slid back into the robes and only then did Harry focus on Snape's face.

Snape's dark eyes fixed on Harry. "Do you think this is easy?" he asked in a low, tense voice.

Harry laughed. The hollowness in his voice shocked him, but he couldn't keep the bitterness away. "You do it, don't you?"

Snape threw out his arms. "I've lived in his shadow for twenty-one years! Longer than you have been alive! You can't imagine what that's like!"

Holding his towel closed, Harry jabbed an accusing finger at him. "You joined him! You chose this!"

"I didn't choose this! I never wanted this!"

"You chose to join him. What choice did I have? And this-" Harry slashed his arm, his rage so intense that he was momentarily unable to speak. "This is bullshit! You've never been raped. You've never been ordered to kill one of your friends-"

"I have been forced to kill friends," said Snape, his dark eyes emotionless. "And I did as ordered. I expect I will do it again."

"You're sick," spat Harry. "Disgusting. I can't stand you. How many of your so-called friends have you killed? How many innocent people have died for you, you sick fuck?"

Snape stood there, his arms limp at his side. In a low voice he said, "Potter-"

No more excuses. "Save it," said Harry. "I'm leaving. I don't want to be anywhere near you." Clutching his towel, he marched towards the door.

Snape swept over to block his path. "I told you to tell me to stop if it was too much for you to handle," he said. "When you need help-"

"I don't need help!" said Harry, glaring daggers at Snape. "I did it, didn't I?! I did what you wanted! I-"

"I didn't want that!" insisted Snape with a scowl. "You should've said 'stop.' You should've-"

"I COULDN'T! If I had, then we would just have done it again and again until I got it right. I'd never get it right. I'd never... I'd never...." To his horror, Harry felt his eyes begin to burn and he closed them, trying to regain his composure.

"Merlin....." swore Snape. "That hasn't been true for some time -- think of the last session during which I fed you the potion. The reason I moved you between the rooms was so that we had stopping points to return to should you need to pause at any moment, so that I could make the transitions less detectable. If you had said 'stop', we wouldn't have had to return to the beginning. I never would have put you through that without giving you a way out."

Harry stared. He couldn’t believe he had suffered through that whole horrible ordeal when he could've stopped it at any moment. The knowledge was too much for him to handle and his knees went weak. For a moment, he thought he was going to tumble to the floor and he placed his left hand against the wall, leaning on it to support himself while he tried to get his breathing back to normal.

"I'm sorry," Snape said. "I should have made sure you knew."

Harry was so startled by the apology that he was almost tempted to make Snape repeat it just to hear it again, but instead he hissed, "You didn't. You didn't tell me anything." He lifted his eyes to gaze at Snape's face and detested the look of concern and caring he saw there.

"It's over," Snape continued in the same soft, soothing voice. "There is nothing we can do about it now. You must let me heal you so that you will be able to train for tomorrow."

"Just give me a potion," said Harry, shaking his head.

"None work as well as the kind I need to massage directly into your skin."

Narrowing his eyes, Harry said, "I'll do it myself.".

"You can't rub it into your back on your own. Let me help you."

"I'm going back to my room now," said Harry, meeting Snape's gaze defiantly as he walked forward, determined to fight Snape if need be.

Snape met Harry's gaze with a shrewd look in his eyes before he spoke. "What did Lucius say to you?"

"What?" The memory of Lucius stopped Harry short. He clutched the towel tightly around himself.

"You were hostile towards me even before our performance," Snape pointed out, his dark eyes searching Harry's. "What did he say to you to cause this reaction?"

Harry looked away from him, staring at the thick carpet as unbidden memories of Lucius swam to the surface of his consciousness. "He said a lot of things."

"Such as?" prompted Snape.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Afraid to admit how terrified you are of him?"

Curling his hands into fists, Harry snarled, "Piss off."

"He lords his power over you, because you let him!" said Snape.

"I SAID 'PISS OFF'!"

"It's true...." said Snape, crossing his arms, "you all but hand it to him on a porcelain plate."

"I don't care what he thinks!"

"Then stop giving him power!"

"I'm not!" said Harry, trying to push past him.

"You are!" Snape grabbed Harry's upper arms and pinned him against the wall. "Whatever he said to you, you've accepted it as truth. Lucius is a master manipulator. He uses intimidation and the threat of pain to terrorise you and then spins his twisted logic until it becomes your reality. You've accepted whatever he told you as fact and have changed your behaviour according to his wishes. Do not allow him that power over you! Do not accept his propaganda as truth!"

"He said that if I could enjoy being raped by a disgusting, hideous man like you, then I could enjoy being tortured by him," Harry spat out, just to see the look of hurt flash through Snape's eyes.

Snape's fingers opened and he stepped back. His face smoothed over to his normal expressionless state and he stared at Harry quietly for a moment, his black eyes scanning over Harry's face as if searching for something. He finally asked, "Do you really believe that?"

Harry wanted to yell 'yes' and give Snape a taste of the pain Snape had just given him. He wanted to say 'no' and curl up in Snape's arms, letting Snape stroke him and kiss him and erase what had happened. "I don't know!" said Harry, his conflicting emotions tearing him to pieces. "I don't know what I want! I don't know who I am anymore." His legs gave out and he slid down the wall, burying his face in his arms. "How can I stop him from controlling me if he doesn't have to be here to do it? How can I even tell if he's controlling me? I just-"

"Potter," Snape interrupted. "When you stepped into the bathroom, you didn't attempt to close the door. Why?"

"You wouldn't let me."

"I couldn't," agreed Snape. "I know you. I know that as soon as that door were to close, you'd immediately search through the drawers and cabinets and try to steal things which would get me punished should you be caught in their vicinity. Lucius would seek to convince you that escape was hopeless and resistance would only lead to pain and punishment. If he took you to the shower, he would close the door and, as long as you believed his words, you would monitor yourself as if he were there, watching you. Lucius's power requires your complicity, your belief. With it, he can make you do or believe almost anything, but without it, he is powerless over you. Don't give him that power. Think critically about everything he tells you. Never stop seeking what you desire."

"How do I know what I really want?" asked Harry, lifting his head and meeting Snape's eyes. "How can I tell the difference between what I freely chose and what you've made me want?"

Snape sighed. "There is no easy answer to your question. The question of free will has been debated by philosophers for ages." He paused and then asked, "Have you chosen to fight the Dark Lord of your own free will?"

"Yeah," nodded Harry. "I'm going to do anything I can to get rid of him, because I want to."

"Yet, did you really choose that fate or was it chosen for you?" pressed Snape. "If the prophecy didn’t exist, would you be so determined to give your life should his destruction require it? Would you be so willing to sacrifice your freedom and remain in this prison if you believed that you were one of several with the ability to destroy the Dark Lord, rather than the single prophesied Saviour?"

"I..." Harry wanted to say that he would, but as he thought about it, he couldn't be so sure. He would want Voldemort destroyed to be sure, he’d never not want that, but would he be so willing to give up his freedom and even his life? If Neville had been marked instead of him, would he have tried so hard, even with the death of his parents? His world was spinning and he placed his head in his hands. "I don't...."

"Potter," Snape said sharply, causing Harry to snap his head up to look at him. "I was merely playing devil's advocate to show how anyone as skilled as Lucius is can cause you to doubt even what you most firmly believe. You always have a choice. Always. I believe that you would maintain your current convictions simply because you've always been stupidly stubborn and far too much of a Gryffindor to be concerned with saving your own neck at the expense of others. When have you ever shown reason and self-preservation in your attempts to thwart the Dark Lord's plans? You were reckless at eleven and, despite my best attempts to change that, I don't believe that I've yet managed to instil in you a proper level of restraint and rationality." He paused and then added, "If anything, you need to learn that, despite what well-meaning fools have told you, the entire world doesn't rest on your shoulders. There is no point in sacrificing yourself needlessly. Especially for this world which has only sought to use you to fight its battles."

"But how do I know?" asked Harry, searching Snape's eyes for an answer. "How do I know I'm choosing what I want?"

Snape's black eyes were fixed on his. "You don't," he said. "None of us ever do. There are precious few who even realise what it is that they really want and most individuals live far less complicated lives than yours. Furthermore, often what we choose isn’t what we really desire. You've decided that you wish to destroy the Dark Lord even at the expense of your own life, but you can't convince me that's where your heart's longing lies. You would've preferred a family of your own, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, suddenly sad for the family he might never have; the simple choices that had been stripped from him the moment he had been marked. It was true that he was freely choosing to give his own life to destroy Voldemort if necessary, but it was also very true that it wasn't what he really wanted. What he wanted, more than anything else in the world, was to marry Ginny, work as an Auror, and have a family of his own. He remembered when Snape had pressed the cup of fake poison to his lips and asked him to decide between life and Voldemort. His answer remained unchanged, but, for the first time, he understood what he was really choosing. "Is it certain that I'll die?"

"No," Snape answered easily and with conviction. "You'll probably marry Miss Weasley and have a million brats just like you." It was clear from the tone of his voice that Snape thought that to be a curse rather than a blessing. Snape continued, "My only consolation for more Potters in this world is that I won't have to suffer through trying to teach them."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "I don't think I want more than two."

"Let me guess," said Snape dryly. "A boy named James and a girl named Lily?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "You wouldn't get a kick out of bossing around a James Potter?"

"I think I've suffered through enough Potters to last me a lifetime," sighed Snape as he stepped away from Harry and over to his bedside table. He removed his wand from his robes and tapped the table. A pot of tea appeared along with a cup and saucer. "Tea?" he asked as he poured a cup.

"Yeah, thanks." Harry climbed to his feet and, holding the towel in place, walked over to sit on the bed.

“Wait.” Snape stopped him with an outstretched hand. He strode over to his cupboard and opened the door. Harry watched him curiously, but Snape’s back was to him and he just looked like a large blot of black doing something with black pieces of clothing. After a short bit, he turned around and approached Harry again, carrying black cloth.

“Your towel is damp,” Snape explained as he pressed the pieces of clothing into Harry’s hand. Harry didn’t understand why he didn’t just use a spell to dry the bed covers, but he preferred clothing to a towel, so he pulled on the black T-shirt and pyjama bottoms which had been cut short so that they stopped just above his knees. Once dressed, he accepted the cup and saucer from Snape who sent the towel back into the bathroom before Summoning a cup and saucer for himself.

Harry sat down on the bed, surprised when he sank further than he expected into the amazingly soft covers. He had never been in a bed that luxurious before and he noted Snape watching him apprehensively, as if worried that he would spill his tea all over the bed covers. Harry placed the saucer on his lap and clutched the cup tightly to reassure both of them that he wouldn’t spill it. He enjoyed the feeling of warmth that soaked into his fingers as he took a sip of the slightly bitter tea.

Snape poured his own cup and then took the chair by his writing desk. He was far less graceful than Lucius in everything he did. Although he had his own elegance, the way he held his tea was more casual than the refined grace of the blond wizard and he had the annoying habit of lightly licking his lips with every fifth sip or so. His hair was stringy and unkempt and, even though he had finally learned to use shampoo, still a little greasy. Although he no longer wore the permanent sneer that had always been etched into his face around Harry, the lines of his face were still sharp and harsh as if he had been cut from unyielding stone. His huge hooked nose served to make what would have been a tolerable face downright ugly. His body, currently hidden under layers and layers of clothing, was only slightly better. Harry supposed it wouldn't have been so bad had it not been covered with discoloured scars and marks that marred his pale skin. Severus Snape was definitely an ugly man. He would never be called sexy or handsome by anyone except the most generous of souls trying to be charitable.

As his nearly complete opposite, Lucius was far more cultured, handsome, and graceful than any other wizard Harry had ever met. If any one of the two should be attractive to Harry, it should be Lucius, but there was something disgusting and foul about the blond wizard that left Harry feeling unclean, as if he had just waded through raw sewage every time they had interacted.

It didn't make sense the way Harry wanted Snape's affection. The way he still wanted Snape to touch him even after what had just happened between them. It was almost as if he had fallen in love with Snape, but that didn’t make any sense, because he didn’t find Snape attractive at all, and he was pretty sure that you had to be attracted to another person before you could fall in love with them.

“Does it bother you?” Harry asked, causing Snape’s black eyes to dart up from where they had been fixed on his cup. “That you’re forced to have gay sex? I mean, you’re straight, right?”

“While I have an inordinate fondness for large breasts-” Snape began, causing Harry to choke on his tea. Harry sputtered, trying to catch himself while Snape frowned at him, his eyes fixed on Harry’s shaking teacup with apprehension. Harry recovered himself and finished off the remaining liquid quickly.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he assured Snape as he set the saucer and teacup down on the bedside table. “Large breasts?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow at his former Professor.

“Yes,” Snape nodded seriously and continued in the same business-like tone as if they were discussing potions ingredients. “Some men say that more than a mouthful or a handful is a waste; however, I beg to differ. There are few things as enjoyable in this world as fondling a large-breasted woman.”

“I dunno, I’m fine with smaller ones,” said Harry, thinking of Ginny. Once she had let him stick his hand up under her blouse and he still remembered with excitement how they had felt: soft and supple and- He quickly shut off that train of thought before it took him places he didn’t want to go in front of Snape.

"Madam Rosmerta's tits have never interested you?" asked Snape with raised eyebrows.

Harry coloured, disbelieving that he was having this conversation with Snape. "I’ve always preferred-" Harry racked his brains, trying to think of a woman to use as an example, as he didn't think he should mention a classmate to Snape. "-girls like Dulcinea, the black-haired Honeyduke's assistant." Too late he remembered that she had only been two years before him.

"Miss Turron? She's completely flat."

"She's not flat," Harry argued. Ginny's breasts were similar in size. "I like them smaller anyway. Madam Rosmerta's are kinda... big."

"She's perfect," insisted Snape. "When the girls your age begin to fill out, you'll come to enjoy them more."

"I enjoy them fine now!" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ve never understood the appreciation many men seem to have for girls of your age,” Snape confided with a hint of scorn to his voice. “In addition to the general stupidity and lack of maturity that follows youth, girls are best once they develop into women and no longer possess the flat chests and skinny hips and legs of a fourteen-year-old boy. Once you are older and develop some stamina, you’ll appreciate extra ‘cushioning,’ so to speak.”

“I have stamina now,” Harry protested. “I just don’t see the point in waiting for one orgasm when I can have several instead.”

“Youth is wasted on the young,*” Snape said with a shake of his head before he took another sip of tea.

Harry wasn’t sure what Snape meant, but before he could ask, Snape stood, placing his empty cup on the bedside table.

“Lie down on your side so that I can massage your calves,” Snape instructed as he produced a wide, flat jar from his robes.

Harry lay with his head on the incredibly soft pillow and his legs curled under himself. Snape sat down on the bed by Harry's feet and gently picked up Harry’s left leg, pulling it out and placing it over his lap. He smeared his hands in the substance from the jar and then placed his warmed hands on Harry’s leg, pressing his thumbs into the muscle.

“Ow!” Harry jumped, yanking his leg away. “Don’t squeeze so hard!”

“I’m not pressing any more firmly than I usually do,” insisted Snape as he lightly pulled Harry’s leg back onto his lap. “Your muscles are knotted. Tell me where it hurts.” Starting at the ankle, he slowly massaged his way up Harry’s leg, his fingers working methodically as the warm heat from the potion sank in.

“There,” Harry announced when the rubbing started to become painful.

“Yes, I can feel it.” Snape’s hands roamed around the thickest part of Harry’s calf, lightly feeling the muscles. He placed both of his hands on Harry's leg and began to knead it.

"My muscles are in knots?” asked Harry as he relaxed against the sheets, pressing his head into the soft pillow. "How did that happen?"

"Not literally," explained Snape as his hands continued working Harry's leg. "Knots result from stress -- either physical or psychological. As the majority of your exercise stresses your back and legs, it is to be expected that most of your knots form in those areas. However, knots may also form independently of physical stress." He massaged it silently for several minutes before he released Harry's leg. "Now we need to let it rest. Give me your right leg."

Harry curled his left leg back up and stretched his right leg across Snape's lap. Snape gently pressed his fingers over the muscles.

"Right there," Harry noted when Snape's fingers began to probe a spot more sensitive than the others. .

"This is worse than the other," Snape commented as he explored Harry's calf. "You must be preferentially putting weight on it when you practise

"You're getting rid of the knot completely?" asked Harry.

"As much as I am able," said Snape as his fingers began to press harder. "It will reform unless you remember to stretch properly before you begin your exercising and always use the muscle potion afterwards."

After a short while, Snape released Harry's leg and said, “I’ll work on your back now.”

Harry, who had gotten quite relaxed in the soft sheets, reluctantly pushed himself up into a sitting position and stripped off his shirt, tossing it to the side. He lay back down, closing his eyes. He felt the bed shift as Snape moved to position himself by Harry's side. His potion-warmed hands gently touched Harry’s shoulders and began caressing the flesh.

“You’re tense here,” Snape noted softly as his hands explored the area between Harry’s neck and upper arms with feather-light touches. His hands drifted down Harry’s spine, sweeping outwards and then back in to the centre again. “You also have a knot here,” he tapped his finger to the left of Harry’s spinal column about halfway down his back. His hands returned to their light sweeping movements, stroking Harry softly. He ended his exploration just before the waist band of the bottoms Harry was wearing and his fingers left Harry’s back. When they returned again, they roamed over Harry's back, moving in wide circles and gradually pressing deeper.

It was so relaxing. Harry allowed himself to drift, lost in the softness of the bed and the gentle movements of Snape’s hands. The warmth of the potion and firm touch seemed to flow into his skin and seep through to his bones, working out the tensions of his muscles. Every time Snape's wandering hands returned to his shoulders, it hurt less and less even though he could tell Snape’s fingers were pushing harder into the muscles. He hadn’t realised how tense his body had been, but now he could feel the tightness slipping away. His limbs felt like water and he didn’t think he’d be able to stand if he tried to get off the bed.

“Did you make this potion yourself?” Harry mumbled into the pillow.

“I modified an existing potion,” Snape explained as he began to really dig into the knot near the middle of Harry’s back. “When Avery gained control of you, I purchased a few books on sports medicine after realising I knew very little about the subject….”

As Snape droned on about the very boring process by which he had developed the potion, Harry ignored the words, focusing just on the soothing touch of Snape's hands and the relaxing timbre of Snape’s voice. The soft rumble reminded him of distant summer storms and Harry was taken back to one of his fondest childhood memories when he had escaped from the Dursleys for a day and lain in a field, watching as a huge summer storm rolled in. He'd had to return home once the torrents of rain had begun, but Dudley had been too busy stomping worms and trying to catch frogs to bother him. Dudley hadn’t been able to actually catch any frogs, but Harry had grabbed nearly every one of those he had targeted. He imagined challenging Snape to a frog-catching contest, feeling quite certain that the Potions Master would have to cheat and use magic in order to catch as many as he had that one day.

Snape broke his monologue to say, “I’ll be using this potion on the rest of your legs and also your arms. I don’t expect to find any knots there, but I’d like to be sure. I won’t touch anything covered by your clothing.”

“That’s fine,” mumbled Harry, too relaxed to lift his head from the pillow.

Snape shifted down and lifted Harry’s left leg, placing it on his lap. His hands returned to the spot with the knot which barely hurt despite the fact that he was kneading it quite firmly. He massaged it for a bit before he began to work his way down towards Harry’s foot.

As Harry lay there and let Snape turn him into a puddle of mush, he knew Lucius was wrong. He had hated it when Snape had treated him roughly. It wasn’t the sex to which he had become addicted (although he did appreciate the mind-blowing orgasms) but this: the close intimacy shared between them. It was the way Snape protected him, cared for him, and guided him. It was possible Snape only saw him as a tool to be fixed when broken and everything Snape did to help him was carefully calculated and only undertaken as it benefited the Potions Master, but Harry refused to believe that was true. On some level, Snape cared for him, for him as a person. He felt it when Snape kissed him and he had seen it in Snape’s eyes when they fucked.

Lucius only saw what was on the surface; the cold harsh lines of an ugly, greasy Death Eater. He didn’t know about the books, the contests, or the treacle tarts. It wasn’t Death Eater Snape who gave Harry pleasure, it was Professor Snape; the man whose hands were stained with potions instead of blood. The type of person who went out of his way not only to properly aid him, but also to try and make him happy as best he could without coddling him. Harry understood what that horrible session had been about. Snape had expected him to tell him 'stop' when it had become too rough. He had trusted and respected Harry enough to leave the decision to stop entirely with him. While he did think Snape to be at fault for not properly explaining that they'd be able to start the session over without beginning at the start, he realised now that he himself had also been responsible for his misery. He had been so focused on trying to hate Snape, he had allowed himself to be hurt.

To test his theory, he opened his eyes and asked, "What would you have done if I couldn't have done it?"

"If you couldn't have performed?" Snape asked as his thumbs dug into the ball of Harry's left foot.

"Yes."

"I would've put you under the Imperius Curse if you'd preferred, and-"

"But I can fight that," Harry pointed out.

"I have a potion that allows me to cast it more effectively, but if you had agreed to it, I'd have expected for you to bear it willingly," said Snape as he pulled on the toes. "If you had been unable to do that, I'd have tried to think of an excuse for the Dark Lord and take my punishment. However, due to the risky position we are both in at this time, I would only engage in that method as a last resort." He paused and then asked, "Would you like me to take away the memory?"

"No," Harry closed his eyes, secretly pleased that Snape would take the Cruciatus Curse rather than force him into a painful situation. "If I get rid of my memories from whenever I get hurt, I'll never learn, will I?"

"No," agreed Snape as he pulled on Harry's toes.

A memory returned from a time that had almost been forgot. I can’t give you what you want, but I'll give you what you need, Snape had said then and at the time it had made no sense, but now Harry understood. Snape had meant that he would give Harry what he needed to survive, but not what he really wanted. It wasn’t entirely true anymore though, for Snape had found a way to give him much of what he wanted as well. And right now what he wanted more than anything else in the world was sleep.


*George Bernard Shaw
[My betas had very mixed reviews of this chapter. Some of them said that it made the character of Snape clearer, others thought he became more confused...]