Nights of Gethsemane

The library door opened and Snape stepped into the hallway. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Everything. Everything was wrong. "I...." Harry couldn't say it. The words died in his throat. How could he say it? "I feel sick."

Snape strode through the bars, a flick of his wand sending the table scurrying out of his way. He knelt before Harry, his dark eyes examining Harry's face. A warm hand rose up and pressed against Harry's forehead. His magic pushed into Harry, flowing through him. Snape frowned and said, "Can you stand?"

Momentarily unable to find his voice, Harry nodded. He clasped the offered arm and pulled himself to his feet. Swaying, he allowed himself to lean on Snape, as Snape led him out of his cell.

"Do I have my magic?" he asked. "Is it trapped inside of me?"

"I believe so." Snape's eyes remained focused on their path. "It is impossible to know either way at the moment."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would I?" Snape steered Harry towards the kitchen. "It is a hypothesis, not a known fact, and you've surmised the same as I on your own. Do you believe it to be the source of your illness?"

"No. I-" That wasn't entirely true, was it? His magic and a Horcrux were trapped inside of him. How could he go on as before knowing that? "I don't know."

Snape transfigured several of the kitchen chairs into a sofa. Harry dropped down onto it, sprawling out on the soft cushions. Snape swept away from him towards the stove.

"If you do possess your magic," said Snape, as he called forth ingredients and utensils, "I believe it would be in your best interest to try not to consciously use it unless you are in mortal peril. As no one has ever had their magic contained quite like the Dark Lord has restricted yours, there are many effects I cannot predict. For example, he may be able to draw off your power when you attempt to use your magic in close proximity to him. It is unlikely, but we must consider it."

Was that how the Horcrux had gained so much power? Had it grown stronger every time he'd tried to use his magic? Harry's stomach turned. How could he have lived all these years without even guessing a bit of Voldemort was living inside of him? But it made sense. It was why he could speak Parseltongue. It was why he had been able to see what Voldemort saw. It was why Voldemort wanted him to live.

Had Dumbledore always known? Was that just all part of the plan? Maybe this whole Horcrux hunt hadn't been set up to be successful....

A wave of nausea washed over him and he rolled over to stick his head over the edge of the sofa. Snape swept over and gently helped him upright. He pushed back Harry's fringe as he retrieved a potion with his other hand. Unable to meet the dark eyes, Harry closed his as he accepted a few swigs of the potion.

Almost instantly, his stomach calmed and he relaxed back against the cushions. Snape pressed the bottle into Harry's hand. "Drink more of this should you feel nauseated again."

Nodding, Harry opened his eyes to see him return to his cooking.

"What made you suspect that your magic is contained within you?" asked Snape in a tone that was far too casual.

"I tried to use it," lied Harry. "But I turned it inward this time."

"I trust you now know better than to try that again?"

"Yeah, I won't." Harry watched Snape dice roots, his long, elegant fingers moving in a steady, calming rhythm. The only thing Tom had said that Harry accepted to be probably true was that Snape loved him. And that was why he wouldn't tell him about the Horcrux. If Snape already knew, he had kept the information from him - possibly to try to protect him. If Snape didn't know, then he couldn't tell him because the Potions Master would surely try to stop what he needed to do.

When Snape finished brewing the brothy soup, he carried it over to Harry, conjuring a tray for him to set the bowl on. Snape Summoned a book to read and they sat together, Harry sipping his soup and Snape reading. After he'd finished his soup, Harry set the tray on the floor and leaned against Snape's shoulder, closing his eyes.

Snape sat shock still for a moment and then he relaxed, wiggling his arm out from under Harry. He placed his hand on Harry's forehead to check the temperature and on Harry's neck to check his pulse. His hand drifted down over Harry's shoulder and across his arm, moving slowly, hesitantly, as if he expected to be pushed away at any moment. He finally settled in the valley of Harry's waist, his fingers curling around Harry's side. It was strange how such a light, simple touch could leave Harry feeling so enclosed and protected. For, despite all his faults, his lies, his manipulations, Snape loved him. And that was enough, for now.

~

The smell of cooking food woke Harry. He pushed back the blanket covering him and sat up, blinking his eyes at what looked to be a hundred owls of all shapes and sizes swooping about the kitchen. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fists, and when he opened them again, the shapes were still flying every which way.

"Don't come closer, I'm cooking," said the dark blur in the centre that was Snape.

"That's cooking?" asked Harry, staring in wonder once he realised those flying objects were jars of spices; vegetables, pots, pans, and . . . a toaster? It looked as if Snape stood in the centre of a hurricane rather than the midst of food production.

"It is far more efficient to produce all meals for the day at the same time than to produce each meal individually." The oven door flopped open, two dishes sailed in, and it closed with a snap, swallowing the dishes. On the other side of the kitchen, a door opened and bowls stacked themselves before leaping up to sit on the shelf.

"Juice?" A cup floated across the room and Harry shot out a hand to grab it as he stood. Snape flicked his wand towards the sofa and transformed it back into chairs.

They ate together in silence. Harry felt Snape's eyes on him throughout the meal, but he focused on his plate.

When Harry was finished, he pushed away his empty dishes, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and said, "I want to know the plan." Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Harry didn't let him. "I know you don't think I should hear it, or you've got five million ideas and I can't possibly fit them all in my head, or something else, but this is my life - maybe my death - and I have the right to know what's going to happen. You think I'm going to fuck it up, but couldn't I fuck it up more by not knowing? Wasn't that the biggest problem at Hogwarts? You and Dumbledore always kept these secrets from me, thinking that it made me safe, thinking that it protected me and how many times did I end up in danger anyway? You of all people should know how dangerous it is to be ignorant." Having drawn the line, Harry waited for Snape to decide on which side he wished to be. He knew that he couldn't force Snape towards a decision - they both knew he'd do whatever was required to defeat Voldemort, even if it was blindly following an unknown plan. But he needed Snape to acknowledge him as an equal.

"Potter," said Snape in a cool, low voice, and Harry's heart dropped down to his stomach. "I'm delighted to hear you acknowledge your general ineptitude."

The fucking bastard! Why did he have to be such an arsehole? Harry frowned; what he wanted to know wasn't unreasonable. He pushed back his chair and slammed his hands down on the table. Snape's eyebrows rose, but he made no move to retaliate and a flurry of words burst from Harry.

"Fine, then. We'll follow my plan. Here's what we're going to do. You'll get yourself replaced as my guard. You'll tell Voldemort that you figured out how to remove my soul, but you need to collect some fresh ingredients by hand. We'll tell the Order to come break me out, I'll go get the Horcrux while you get the Elder Wand, and then, after I have the Horcrux, I'll return here alone. I'll say you told me to come back if they rescued me. We'll do the ceremony, you'll get him to possess my body, and then you'll kill me." It was a good, reasonable plan and Snape had no reason at all to object to it.

Snape waved his fingers, motioning for Harry to sit back down. "I have a better one. I'll remove myself, within two days in fact, but you'll remain here. There is no need for me to obtain the Elder Wand. If it should appear, we'll try to take it, but we must focus on the Horcruxes. I'll search for the Diadem in Hogwarts-"

No. He needed to go there. "I've been in there. I know-"

"And you think I wouldn't take a look at a secret location built by Slytherin himself?" Snape asked, his eyebrows pricking. "I've worked with the Dark Lord for years, so I know how to better anticipate what traps lie in wait."

Harry dropped down into his chair, his arms crossed. "He'll have someone trailing you and if you go to Hogwarts, he'll think you are going for the Diadem. He'll move it, or kill you."

"He wouldn't dare move it; not while I'm about. He needs me for the ceremony."

"What if he no longer wants to do the ceremony? What if he decides it's too much trouble to keep me around?"

"I have the ceremony planned within five days time. He may change his mind in that short time, but it is highly unlikely. If I must, I'll fight for my life."

Harry bit his lip. If Voldemort did suspect Snape, there seemed to be little chance that they'd defeat him. "If you fight him, he'll suspect that we are working together just like what Avery said."

"Not necessarily." Snape finished his tea and pushed the mug to the side. "Not if I pretend I wish to control you and that is why I fight him."

Harry frowned. "Would he believe that though?"

Snape titled his head, his eyes half-lidded. "It is very probable. Within the next two days, we'll begin the preparation for the soul removal ceremony, which cannot be conducted until all the ingredients are ready. Once a flower we need blooms, I'll bring you to my lab and we'll conduct the first ceremony there in order to prevent your death in the second ceremony."

He'd never heard any of this before! Harry leaned forward, frowning. "Wait, hold on a second. What's happening?"

Snape laced his fingers on the tabletop. "After I'll have left here and destroyed the Diadem, I'll return and begin a soul-removal ceremony. During the ceremony, I'll put you in a state of cardiac arrest, informing him that you must die in order for the soul to be removed. He'll cast the Killing Curse with the intention of destroying your soul. I'll restore your 'body' and invite him to try to possess you in order to confirm that your soul no longer resides in your flesh. When he leaves his body, I'll destroy it. He'll be unable to remain in your body for a long period of time and will try to escape, but he'll have no Horcruxes left and no body to return to. In order to ensure that you'll not die during the ceremony, I'll give you a potion to take right before the sacrifice begins."

There was a major flaw in that plan of which Harry had only recently become aware. "And what if he can possess my body?" He would not live to see Voldemort possess his body. He could think of no greater horror to be trapped inside himself and unable to do anything but watch as Voldemort turned the world to ruins. It would be almost as horrible if Voldemort took over completely, confusing Harry's allies and using Harry's face to commit terrible acts. He would'nt stand for it - no matter what the cost.

Snape leaned forward, his black eyes glittering. "Then I'll do what needs to be done."

Harry didn't doubt it, but still, he needed to hear it again. "Promise me that you'll kill him. That you'll do everything you can to destroy every last bit of him. I swear to you, I will do the same." He locked eyes with Snape.

Snape's intense black eyes never left his. "I promise you, he will be destroyed, every single last Horcrux. Now-" Snape stood. "Talk is nothing without action."

Harry pushed back his chair and walked to the practice room. "What will I be doing today?"

"More ward detection training," said Snape as he led the way.

"And wha-" Harry nearly stepped on a ward. He hopped backwards, trying to avoid setting off the trigger when Snape whipped out his wand and shot a spell and Harry rolled to dodge it, but then Snape shot another spell in the direction Harry had dodged and the world turned black.

"Oi!" he yelled. "Take this off me!"

A spell raced towards him, but it wasn't Finite Incantatem and Harry ducked, trying to remember the direction of the practice room. There he'd have space; there he wouldn't be in this tiny hallway, about to knock his head against the walls.

He weaved and dodged, crawling towards the practice room. He hated the blindness, he hated the walls which he had to treat almost like wards because he couldn't afford to hurt himself, and he hated that Snape knew he disliked Obscuro and cast it on him anyway.

Sliding to the side, his hand pressed into a corner and Harry ran into the practice room. A giant ward suddenly appeared before him and he stepped backwards, landing on his foot wrong and falling off balance. He caught himself with one hand flat against the floor, but then he had to roll and a spider web trapped his left arm to the floor.

"What the?" Harry tried to rip his arm away but it held like glue, pinning him to the floor. "Snape!" Another web appeared over his right ankle, preventing him from moving his leg.

"STOP IT!" he yelled, his heart pounding, trying to claw its way out of his chest.

"Calm down," whispered Snape, his fingers ghosting through Harry's hair at the top of his scalp.

Harry jerked back his head. "No! Stop it! I hate this!" He tried again to yank his arm out from whatever held it in place, to turn, to shift into a position of attack, but the spider webs refused to yield enough.

"Shh...."

Fingers ran down the side of Harry's cheek and Harry grabbed at the hand, but it vanished.

He was going to punch that arsehole as soon as he was free. "Snape, you fucking-!"

"Potter, if you let your fear control you, you will not be able to concentrate."

"YOU FUCKING-!"

"Stop." Harry felt Snape's body shift and then a hand pushed his shoulder to the floor. Harry grabbed onto Snape's arm with his hand, his fingers digging into the fabric. "Relax."

"How can I fucking relax when I can't see a fucking thing?"

"You can hear, can't you?" Snape's finger traced the outer edge of Harry's ear.

"Yes, I can hear! I can feel, I can smell, I can taste, but I can't bloody see!"

"Control your emotions through your body." Snape's hand pressed flat against his chest, the warmth from the fingers seeping into his chest. "Don't breathe here." The fingers slid, rippling over his torso as they drifted down to pause above his navel. "Breathe here."

Harry squeezed his blind eyes shut and focused on breathing with his gut, rather than his lungs.

"In," Snape's low, hypnotic voice rolled over him. "1. 2. 3. Out. 1. 2. 3. In. 1. 2. 3...."

Harry focused on the voice, his breath, and the numbers. It was getting easier to breathe, each exhalation a release of tension, easing the tightness in his lungs, and his guts.

"Now place your right hand over your heart."

Harry released Snape's sleeve and flattened his hand over his heart. His fingers were so cold at the tips, but then Snape's other warm hand pressed over the top of his. "Do you feel your heart rate?"

Harry felt it pound beneath his palm. "Yes." He nodded.

"Now feel it slow. With each exhalation, release tension."

"Right," said Harry. Even though he was pinned and blind, the more he concentrated on relaxing, the less his heart pounded out of control .

Snape's hands lifted, leaving him, and a spike of fear returned, but Harry focused on his breath, his heart rate, and it didn't matter as much that he couldn't see.

"Count in your head," instructed Snape in a soft voice. "The body reacts first to a frightening stimulus and then the mental reaction occurs. Calm your body to calm your mind. Are you relaxed?"

"Yes..."

"Now, I will release you from the webs, but not the blindness. Keep counting."

Harry repeated the numbers in his head and, when the webs lifted, he jumped to his feet.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Harry wiped his palms on his thighs.

When the spells came, the fear pulsed thick in his stomach, but he said the numbers in his head, breathing deeply while he dodged. It worked at first, but he was exhausting himself, shouldn't he need more air? And then he ran straight through a ward and the numbers fled his head.

"Concentrate!" barked Snape.

But he couldn't. Not while blind, trying to dodge wards, and shot at from all different angles.

"Slow down," he called to the room, unsure of Snape's location.

"Breathe," came Snape's retort.

He was breathing, but it wasn't working. "This is impossible!" Harry ran until a ward blocked his path. He tried to dodge to his right, but a ward stopped him there and to his left, and behind him. He had been boxed in. "STOP! STOP NOW!"

"Calm-"

Harry whirled to face Snape. "DON'T YOU-"

"POTTER!" The ward before him vanished and strong hands grabbed his upper arms.

Harry instinctively jerked backwards, kicking his leg as he yanked his arms out of Snape's grasp and they both fell, the wards disappearing and Snape landing on top of him. Snape shifted away before Harry could push him off and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him up to a sitting position. He splayed his hand across Harry's chest.

"You're out of control. Focus on breathing."

"You put me in a box!"

"You let yourself become too panicked to realise you were not completely encased."

"What do you want me to do now? Fly?" Harry asked snidely as he shoved Snape's hand away.

"If you had ducked and rolled, you would've found yourself clear," explained Snape in a measured tone.

"Piss off." Harry rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to know that?"

Snape placed his hand on Harry's cheek, restoring his vision. "Why do you fear being blind?"

Harry blinked as Snape's features swam into focus. "It's just stupid to train that way since they won't be shooting that spell."

"The point is to teach you to rely on your other senses. Lie down and close your eyes."

Harry sighed but stretched out, closing his eyes. He didn't mind this at all; he could open his eyes any second.

Snape's fingers scratched through the bit of hair on Harry's chest. "You breathe too much here." When Harry shifted his breathing, counting again, Snape added, "Remember, almost every situation has an escape. The important thing is to remain calm enough to search or wait for it. If you allow your fear to overwhelm you, you will never find the point of escape."

"I faced him before, you know. I can do this. When I'm out there, it'll be different."

"You were a child then, without understanding of the force you faced or the full consequences of your actions. You would have to be stupid or emotionless not to feel fear when confronting him and his followers for the last time." Snape lifted his hand, brushing aside bits of Harry's fringe. "Fear in the mind is a poison, but fear is not a useless emotion. The physical reactions can cause an adrenaline rush with shortened response time, a dulled sense of pain, and greater strength among other things. What you must do, is learn to focus your fear so that it becomes your ally instead of your weakness."

"I thought I was supposed to calm my body?"

"There are many techniques - everyone is different. You might find it best to hold onto your fear in the midst of combat and dodging, and use the relaxation technique when you are not fighting or escaping. Are you calm?" Snape pressed two fingers into Harry's neck, checking the pulse.

"Yeah."

In a calm, steady voice Snape said, "I'll take away your sight and hearing, and then I'll chain you to the floor before shooting spells at you. I'll try to panic you and, if I don't believe you are sufficiently scared, I'll escalate the situation until you are. This time, instead of trying to fight your fear, embrace it." Snape's fingers curled around Harry's wrist, gently tugging him upwards. "Stand."

Harry opened his eyes and stood, clenching and unclenching his fists. Being blind and deaf while spells raced towards him did not sound enjoyable at all, but he knew he needed to learn to deal with his fear.

Snape watched him with a neutral expression, waiting for Harry to agree.

Harry nodded towards him. "I'm ready."

Snape placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, squeezing lightly. "I'll hear your voice even though you won't be able to. But I won't always acknowledge your requests."

It should've been a terrifying thing to hear, but some of the tightness in Harry's gut eased. Dumbledore had always tried to protect Harry; even from himself, but Snape wouldn't let anything, including Harry, get in the way of his training. He wanted, needed, to be pushed beyond his limits. He had let that stupid spell get under his skin more than anything else, even Voldemort, which made absolutely no sense. "I understand."

And so, when Snape took away his hearing and vision and cast the spells, Harry embraced his fear, and forced it, as best he could, into anger. It seemed to work, until Snape trapped him in a tangled mess of thick protection wards through which he had to crawl. They shrank around him more and more until he was forced to propel himself forward by pushing with his feet and dragging himself on his elbows.

And then water poured in. Harry pushed hard, propelling himself forward into a ward. Wait, where was the exit? Harry rolled onto his back and felt around the impossibly small passageway for an exit as the water rose and rose and his heart pounded in his head, a beat so loud he couldn't think. But the wards were solid and, even though he pushed at the edges of them where they ran into each other, he had no way of escape.

He couldn't get out! The water rose and rose. He would drown if it got any higher! When the water had almost reached the top, he didn't know what else to do other than escape. Gulping down a huge lungful of air just before the entire passage filled, he braced himself and shoved all his fear, anger, magic into the ward.

All of the wards and the water vanished and he lay, dry and free. Harry gulped in huge lungfuls of air and counted in his head, digging his fingers into the plush carpet to assure himself that he was free of the water. Even though he hadn't actually swallowed any water and hadn't been in any danger, his body had trouble accepting that belief and, for a moment, he could do nothing but lie there, trying to convince himself that he hadn't nearly drowned.

Snape's fingers brushed down his cheek, restoring his vision and hearing. As the darkness vanished, he saw Snape bent over him.

"Don't ever try to use your magic."

"Look," said Harry, once he could speak. "If you- if you push me, I'm going to - react."

Snape shook his head and stood. "Use your fear, don't let it use you."

Harry sat up and glared at Snape. "I was using it! What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"You needed to crawl backwards to-"

"That's bullshit!" Harry propelled himself to his feet. "I was going to drown!"

"How stupid do you think I am?" Snape rolled his eyes. "I would never let you drown."

"But you wanted me to think that! You said you wanted me to be as terrified as possible. If you want to teach me how to act when I think I'm dying, then I'm going to think I'm dying and react!"

The dark eyes narrowed. "I already warned you not to try to use your magic."

Harry clenched his fists, glaring back at Snape. "I'm not like you. I can't be you! Let me try and figure out how to do this as me."

Snape just stared back.

Harry closed his eyes and said, "I'm ready. Do it again."

"Very well. Obscuro."

They trained for hours, until Snape stopped for lunch and, by that time, Harry had had enough for the day. It was impossible to remove his fear, suppress it, or ignore it until after the danger had passed. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath shortened, and his mind screamed at him to stop, but he worked through it. Sometimes, the fear would storm through him only after the danger had passed and he could do nothing but lie on the floor and try to convince his body that he wasn't dying.

Then, Snape would splay his fingers across Harry's chest or stomach and speak softly but firmly, his words an anchor. Even at the worst of it, when Snape cast a spell that stripped him of every sense, and he couldn't even feel his heart beat because he was just a mind in empty darkness, able to think but nothing else, as soon as Snape's strong hands curled around his arms, the fear poured out of him.

He had collapsed against Snape, letting Snape talk and soothe the fear out of him. With anyone else, it might've been shameful or a display of weakness, but Snape had never seemed more proud of him, even when he said that he'd had enough for now. Afterwards, as they cooked, Snape said, "You lasted much longer than Avery."

"How long did he last?" Harry asked as he peeled the shrimp.

Snape snorted in derision. "He cried within seconds and Apparated straight to his father as soon as I released him."

Harry laughed. "How do you get out of that spell, anyway?"

"Prevent the spell from being cast. There is no defence against it and the victim inevitably loses sanity after a certain amount of time. However, it is tasking to maintain. After it has been cast upon you, your only strategy is to try and hold on as long as possible."

Harry thought he had held on for quite some time. Wondering how he compared with Snape, he asked, "How long have you been able to withstand it?"

"It has never been cast on me."

"Did you invent it?" Harry pushed the bowl of shelled shrimp over to Snape.

"Yes." Snape flicked his wand around the kitchen and the table set itself.

"Why?" Harry knew how easily Snape could slip between his two selves, but even with the rape and torture, it was hard to reconcile the Snape who enjoyed inventing spells to torture people with the man he had come to know.

"To gather information." The shrimp swirled around the pan as the noodles rose out of the pot and landed in a bowl. The alfredo sauce upended itself on top of them, then the contents of the bowl mixed themselves.

Snape had never pretended that he was anything but a monster, but Harry had the feeling he had only scratched the surface of the horror of Snape's past. "What is the worst thing that you've ever done?"

Snape glanced up from the salad he was preparing. He studied Harry for a moment, his dark eyes searching Harry's face as if he could find the answer there. He turned back to the food and prepared the plates of pasta.

In a low voice, Snape spoke. "How can one measure sins? Crimes are even less comparable than acts of devotion and, just as one would not compare the love of a parent to the love of a spouse, the murder of either would be impossible to measure against the other except, perhaps, on the individual level." In a lighter tone, he added, "Sit. Lunch is ready."

Harry stole extra shrimp from Snape's plate while Snape poured the tea, his back to the table.

When Snape sat down, Harry met his eyes and said, "I know what mine is."

Snape's left eyebrow lifted slightly, but he gave no other response.

Harry added sugar and milk to his mug and stirred his tea slowly with his spoon. He lifted his spoon from his tea and laid it on the table, watching his movements as if they would help him form what he wanted to say. "Hermione warned me that I had a 'saving people thing' and that Voldemort would use that against me. I didn't listen to her. I didn't trust you to help us-"

"You shouldn't have," interrupted Snape.

Harry shook his head. "I didn't think about Kreacher. What he was like. What he thought of Sirius. I-"

Snape sighed. "Potter-"

Harry held up his hand, stopping Snape and looking him straight in the eyes. "I didn't practise Occlumency. I did.... I did so many things wrong. And I blamed Dumbledore. I blamed Kreacher. I blamed you."

Snape looked at him, but did not interrupt.

"I blamed everyone but myself. Even though I was responsible. And yeah, I know what you'll say, that you can't control the actions of anyone else. That Sirius was ultimately responsible because he chose to come rescue me." Harry looked down at his teacup. "But still, I should've listened to people who were trying to help me. Instead I was stupid and Sirius died because of me." Harry did not want or expect pity. It was an acknowledgment more than a confession, but he needed to say it.

When Harry said nothing more, Snape spoke. "Black," he said, with an air of finality, "was an idiot."

Harry barked out a laugh. He couldn't help it. Snape's face was set in a scowl as if simply hearing Sirius's name caused him pain. And he couldn't, even now Sirius was gone, say one kind thing about him. Snape turned his frown on Harry, which only caused Harry to laugh harder until he was inhaling great gulps of air and his laughter was almost hysterical. His eyes grew wet with tears and he was helpless to stop them as his laughter turned into sobs and the tears overflowed his eyes, running down his cheeks.

When Harry could finally breathe again, he wiped his face clean. He hiccupped a few times before looking at Snape, who was sitting rigidly, staring down at him with a blank stare. Harry smiled at him. "That was strange," he said, reaching for his fork and twirling it in the pasta. "I know you hate them, my dad and Sirius, because they were such arseholes to you. But isn't that like me and Malfoy? They can only hurt you if you let them. And they're dead, so there's no point in hating them." Harry shrugged.

Snape said nothing. Instead, he focused his eyes on his plate as he ate.

Harry took a few bites before he said, "I'm really sorry about your Pensieve. I shouldn't have looked in it. You made it very clear that you didn't want me to look, and I did it anyway."

Snape took a sip of his tea. With a shrug, he said, "It was foolish of me to leave you alone with it. I thought you had more sense, but obviously not."

Determined to impress upon Snape that he didn't approve of what James did, Harry said, "You know, afterwards, I asked Sirius how my mum could ever stand my dad."

Snape glanced up from his meal but remained silent.

Setting down his fork, Harry said, "He said my dad got a lot better in his seventh year, and that my mom didn't know that he kept hexing you. Is that true?"

"Your mother," said Snape with a voice tinged with bitter ice, "never saw your father attack me after that incident."

"But he kept attacking you?"

A shadow crossed over Snape's features and any openness slid behind a mask of coolness. "It's none of your business."

Harry knew that no amount of prying would get that ice to melt. He'd have to wait until Snape relaxed, like a hedgehog uncurling from its tight ball. Until then, any attempts to learn what lay behind that guarded surface would be met with heavy resistance.

Snape's ill mood lasted through the second bout of training in which he made Harry practise dodging, shooting with the laser pointer, and avoiding wards. By the end of it, Harry was trembling on his legs like a newborn colt and Snape had to feed him potions to prevent Voldemort from feeling the growing pain in his legs.

"You need to be more careful," chided Snape as he worked out the knots in Harry's legs. "We must not call his attention to us."

"It didn't hurt at all until the end." Harry was leaning on his elbows, his legs stretched out behind him.

"Adrenaline masks pain, and testosterone causes you to overestimate your abilities."

Harry couldn't resist teasing him. "Are you going to wank me to get it out of me?"

Snape made a noise of derision. "Increased sexual contact stimulates testosterone production. Why do you think this is growing so fast?" Snape brushed his fingers against Harry's jaw.

Harry rubbed at his stubble. "More sex means more facial hair?" He'd have to have more sex then!

Snape's hands returned to Harry's legs. "The body increases testosterone production during periods of heightened sexual behaviour in order to produce greater quantities of sperm, increase strength to defend one's partner from competitors, and raise the libido to facilitate more frequent copulations."

"You make sex so . . . boring."

"Hmph. I don't believe that uncovering the processes behind a phenomenon decreases one's appreciation for it. On the contrary, I believe the reverse to be true. Think of potion creation. One would never expect nightshade and hellhound blood - two deadly poisons - to create Develum, which can be used in healing salves amongst other things."

"Wait a minute." Harry glanced back at Snape. "You put two poisons together and get something used to heal people? How does that work?"

"This is why you could never brew properly without my help," sighed Snape. "A potion is not merely the sum of its ingredients. In addition to the order in which they are added, the stirring pattern, the temperature, how long you allow them to brew . . . ingredients interact with each other to produce effects that are more than the sum of their individual properties. This is true in the Muggle world as well. Think of table salt. It is composed of sodium and chloride. Have you ever seen what happens when you put sodium in water?"

"No." Harry shook his head.

"I'll show you later," promised Snape. He patted Harry's thigh and stood. "Your legs need time to recover. I'll work on your muscles again after dinner."

"Could you massage other parts too?" asked Harry. He really wanted another back and shoulder massage. The last one had been so relaxing.

"Your penis?" Snape deadpanned with raised brows.

Harry bit back his laughter. "I meant my back!" He rolled over and displayed his soft penis to Snape. With a crooked eyebrow, Harry purred, "But you can massage that too if you want."

Harry expected Snape to roll his eyes or call Harry a hormonal teenager again. Instead, Snape arched a brow to match Harry's and said, "Later," in a voice as rich as dark chocolate.

Holy shit! Harry had just been having a laugh, but that word said in that tone made his cock start to fill. He lay there for a moment, just staring up at Snape. Snape smirked, then whirled and marched towards the kitchen, his robes swirling around his feet. Harry got to his feet and followed, his mouth dry. Snape had flirted!

Harry couldn't concentrate at all while they cooked. He had no idea what they were even making, he just did whatever Snape asked him to do, sneaking glances at the Potions Master. He never would have thought that flirting with Snape could be so entertaining or exciting. He imagined it was a bit like approaching an unfamiliar dragon: You didn't quite know whether you were about to get your head bitten off, or receive a friendly nudge of the tail.

After he had finished washing the vegetables, Snape offered Harry a huge knife. Harry stared at it. He had never been allowed a fork, much less a butter knife, and now Snape held out one of the biggest, sharpest knives Harry had ever seen.

"Take it," ordered Snape impatiently. "I'll enchant it so that you can't be hurt by it."

Harry took it, his eyes focused on the blade as Snape cast the spell.

"Cut the vegetables into bite-sized chunks," said Snape before he turned back to the fish in front of him.

Snape hadn't said that he had spelled the blade to protect himself from harm. Harry could possibly kill him. Of course, Snape rarely remained unguarded, and Harry knew his chances of committing murder would be slim, but still there was an unspoken level of trust with the knife.

Harry grabbed the carrots and caught the cutting board that flew towards him. He chopped them as Snape ordered, but he had barely begun when Snape interrupted.

"It isn't that hard, Potter. Here," Snape swept over and pressed his warm body into Harry's back. Harry became very aware that he was naked except for a thin apron. Snape's long arms reached around him, curling around the hand that was holding the knife.

Snape's deep voice stirred up the hairs near Harry's right ear as he instructed Harry on how to properly chop vegetables. Harry could barely concentrate with Snape's scent crowding out his thoughts and that sensual voice sending shivers down his spine straight to his dick.

"Isn't that far more efficient?" asked Snape, his voice deep.

It took a bit for the words to make sense in the aroused mess that was Harry's mind. "Yeah, much more." He turned his head, meeting Snape's eyes, their lips inches from each other. "What do you want me to do now?"

Harry deliberately left the question open; almost a challenge. Snape caught the double meaning, a fire lighting in his dark eyes. His gaze swept over Harry and then he bent down, whispering in Harry's ear, "Now you cut the celery," before sweeping off to the other side of the kitchen, leaving Harry hard and wanting.

Harry swallowed and turned back to the food. He would not allow Snape to beat him at the self-control game. Besides, it was more entertaining this way.

Harry avoided Snape throughout the rest of the preparation. When Snape complained about how he chopped the onions, he stepped away from the board and motioned from a safe distance for Snape to come and show him. Then, after Snape had returned to the other side of the kitchen, Harry said, "I'm not sure how small the potatoes should be."

"Bite-sized," said Snape as he slid over. Harry pushed the cutting board, knife and potatoes towards Snape. As he began to chop, explaining as he cut, Harry inched closer, finally leaving only a handspan between them. Pretending to pay attention to Snape's demonstration, he breathed in the earthy smell of the Potions Master and watched the elegant fingers move. As soon as Snape finished, he turned to Harry, his hand still holding the knife and said, "Now you try it."

"Yeah," said Harry as he moved away to grab a bowl. "I've got it now." Snape, realising the game Harry was playing, returned to the oven and didn't attempt to touch him again.

Just before they finished, Harry brushed against Snape's back on his way to the teapot, letting his hand linger over the swell of Snape's arse. He acted nonchalant as he poured himself tea, pretending that he hadn't just groped Snape.

They ended up making a stew that Snape left to cook on a back burner, along with fish and chips which were fancier than any kind Harry had ever had before. Snape had a stack of letters near his plate, and he wrote scathing responses to most of the ones he read.

Harry remembered all too well that sharp tongue turned against him and how much he'd hated it. "Must you do that now?"

Snape crooked an eyebrow at him. "Why not? Do you have something better to suggest?"

"We can talk," Harry waved a hand between them. When Snape's eyebrows drew in towards each other in displeasure, Harry headed off the upcoming storm. "If we're going to be casting an important spell soon, then I should know as much about it as possible. I want to know the details."

Snape sent the papers to the side with a wave of his hand. "The spell requires minimal input from you. I'll give a line for you to repeat, but I'll do most of the casting. What we'll be doing in essence, is creating a potion for you to take before the second ceremony."

"How will it stop me from dying?"

"Drinking the potion will anchor your soul, causing it to remain in your body for the brief period while your body dies."

"I thought you were just going to pretend to kill me?" Harry frowned in confusion.

"As nothing can stop the Killing Curse, you will clinically die. If you do not take this potion we'll prepare soon, your soul will pass on and there will be no way to revive you."

But would this potion anchor the Horcrux as well or would it be removed? Harry had to be sure. There was no way he'd allow Voldemort to piggy-back to life. "How does it work? And how do you know it will anchor my soul?"

"It works the same way any bit of magic works: through a presently unknown mechanism. There is a chance that you will die, but I'm certain your soul will be preserved."

He needed to be certain. "And if I don't take this second potion, then I'll die for sure? No way that I'll survive?"

Snape set down his fork and fixed his dark eyes on Harry. "You assured me that wouldn't be a problem. Have you changed your mind?"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "No, of course not. Earlier you said that souls were nearly impossible to separate from the body. How can you be sure that my body will die and my soul won't? What if he doesn't try to possess my body? What if he cancels the ceremony?"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Why do you think I have spent these months training you in dodging and aiming? If all else fails, you will snatch a wand and cast the Killing Curse upon him."

"I can't cast with these!" Harry motioned toward his cuffs.

"If you reveal your intention to fight, there will be Dark Magic cast towards you."

It didn't escape Harry's notice that Snape said Dark Magic would be cast towards him rather than that he would be casting Dark Magic at Harry. Since Voldemort had declared that Harry should not be hurt, Dark Magic would only be cast towards him by someone willing to disobey Voldemort. That meant that either Snape had an ally, or someone would likely use the confusion to attempt to kill or severely harm him.

Snape continued speaking, distracting Harry's thoughts. "Right before the second ceremony, you will drink the potion. The Dark Lord will give you a separate potion that will kill your body. There is a chance that the first ceremony won't work and you'll die at this point. Most likely you'll remain unconscious for a brief period of time while the Dark Lord attempts to de-soul you. The potion he'll feed you to kill your body will wear off quickly. When you wake, you should find the Dark Lord dead. If not, you must concentrate on removing the cuffs, obtaining a wand and killing him yourself. Understood?"

"Earlier you told me not to try to get a wand because I wouldn't know if it was compatible with me or not."

"Ideally, you will cast as infrequently as possible. Yes, using a wand not your own will affect your magic. However...." Snape's eyes narrowed and his expression darkened. "I trust you have the hate in you necessary to destroy the Dark Lord, even with the wand of another."

Harry assured him with a coldness in his voice that surprised him, "That won't be a problem."

Snape picked up his fork. "Eat, and there may be time for more training after dinner."

[Thanks for reading and please review!]