Down On Your Knees

Tile: Down on Your Knees

Author: Exis* Exis_@hotmail.com

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Warnings: This fic will contain M/M sex....Gay sex. For thoes who don't like that, you should go away now. It will also highlight a love afair with a teacher so if that makes you unhappy, scram. I haven't finished writing it, but you should assume that it will have spoilers from ALL FOUR BOOKS.....if that displeases you, you can go away as well. My last warning is that this is my first slash fic, and my first Harry Potter fic. I haven't the slightest clue whether it's horrible, and I'd like to pretend it's not....

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, nor am I making any money off this. You know the drill, I won't elaborate.

Dedicated: To my Lovely Beta Tealish. Thanks for your patience, and your trust.

Archive: Anywhere you want to....just mail me to let me know


I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.

Chapter 6 "Fire in my eyes"

After a screaming match between Harry and the head of the Department of Magical Criminals and the Minister of Magic, which included more than a few not-quite-so-pleasant remarks, they agreed to hear Sirius out. Harry persuaded the Ministry to give him a week to explain the story, and they agreed to hold both Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew in high-security cells within the Ministry’s head office, but not until Harry threatened to go to the press and try the issue with the media. Harry’s reputation would win, and everyone knew it.

Once that had been settled, Harry proceeded to take a corner bed in the makeshift infirmary and slept for sixteen hours. When he finally awoke, he was accosted by Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Hermione shrieked “HE’S AWAKE!” and threw her arms around him. Everyone stood around hugging and congratulating him. Seamus sat himself right in Harry’s lap, much to Dean’s amusement, for everyone knew such things were to be expected from Seamus. They all chattered on about how wonderful the battle was and how brave Harry was. It lightened Harry’s heart considerably to hear the kind words from his friends, but he knew the question was coming, and the anticipation stung. It was Ron who finally asked.

“So, tell us, Harry, how did you do it? No one knows. All we know is that he’s dead, and you’re not. I even saw the corpse! The ‘Daily Prophet’ is going mad wanting an interview. How’d you kill him, Harry?” Harry thought he’d try to dismiss it and avoid having to answer.

“Why does it matter? All that matters is that he is dead, really, honestly, truly, dead, and you all are safe,” Harry answered warmly, trying to coax his friends away from the question.

“Of course it matters, Harry,” Hermione piped up. “You’ve just done what no other wizard, not even Dumbledore, could do. We all want to know.”

“Hermione,” Harry started. “I can’t tell you. It’s not something I can talk about. I am not just keeping you all in the dark, I can’t tell anyone. You’ll just have to take that as an answer.” The Gryffindors stood quiet. No one knew what to say, or what could possibly be so horrible that Harry had to keep it from them. It was Neville who was first to react.

“That’s okay Harry. Just know you can talk to us if you want to.” Everyone nodded fervently, to let Harry know that Neville’s statement applied to them as well. Just then, Snape walked in to break up Harry’s reassurances from his friends.

“I must ask you all to leave now. Mr. Potter will be returning to his dormitory soon, you may regale him there,” Snape said, with a touch of vinegar in his voice. He ushered the Gryffindors away from Harry, and then looked at him squarely.

“Har... Potter, I am afraid I have a favor to ask of you. Draco Malfoy wishes to have an audience with you. Do you feel up to speaking with him?” Snape asked in quite tones. He had quickly abandoned his softer side and found his hard persona once again. If it struck Harry as abrasive, he didn’t show it.

“Of course, but give me a minute to sort myself out. I will need you to show me where he is.”

Severus waited for Harry to propel himself from the bed. He tapped his foot while Harry stretched a bit, but he soon found himself at a loss for sarcastic body language when Harry took off the hospital shirt he had been wearing. His well-muscled chest was more than Severus had bargained for when he agreed to wait while Harry got ready. He looked away quickly, but it was too late. That image would haunt him. Once Harry was dressed, he motioned for Harry to follow him and he walked toward Draco’s bed.

Draco was paler than usual, if that was possible. His eye sockets were hallow and his normally cool, expressionless face was wrinkled with aftershock. Snape towered over Harry, both of them looking down on the figure. Harry’s look was one of guilt and disturbance. Snape, however, had a different demeanor. He looked at Draco with kind, soft eyes that were foreign to his face. He and Draco had had a bond, even from the first day of class, that had puzzled Harry. The cold, uncaring man had always had a soft spot for Draco, and when he thought no one was looking, he showed real concern for him. It wasn’t that he was so kind, or so loving, but that when he looked at Draco with those intense eyes of his, there was the unspoken knowledge that they lay permanently in each other’s services. Harry had thought it was a bond through the Death Eaters, or Slytherin, perhaps. But the fact remained that it was only with Draco that he shared those looks. Sometimes there was nothing Harry wanted more in the world than for Snape to look at him like that.

Harry’s musings were abruptly stopped when he sensed that Snape was leaving. Snape had left them with little more than a nod. Apparently, whatever Draco had to say, he wanted to say it in private. Draco met Harry’s eyes, and motioned for Harry to put up a silencing charm. Harry nodded and took his wand from his pocket, casting a rather potent spell. No one would be disturbing them any time soon

“Potter, er, Harry, what I wanted to talk to you about...” he paused, as if to search for the best way to express his intentions. He paused for a moment, and then shifted himself in bed. He once again met Harry’s eyes, this time with his usual Malfoy air in place.

“Potter,” he began without hesitation this time, “I feel there is something I must discuss with you. It’s about my father. I’ve been told he became a casualty of the war.” Harry could feel the bile rise up in his throat. He hadn’t really thought about having to face the family of those he had killed. He had once again failed to draw a line between duty and real life.

“Er, yes... I do believe he is no longer with us,” Harry replied, choosing the most diplomatic path.

“Am I to understand that it was at your hands he fell?” Draco asked, his cool statement never slipping. Harry twitched uncomfortably under Draco’s gaze. There was little use in denying it, so instead of coming up with a lengthy soliloquy, he just nodded, and cast his eyes at to the floor. It was only then that Draco’s mask came off. His cold eyes softened, and closed a moment. Harry was just about to leap into an apologetic sonnet about the cruelties of war, but Draco beat him to speaking first.

“Well, thank Merlin for that!” Draco exclaimed suddenly, shocking both himself and Harry by the expressions on their faces.

“But I thought...”Harry started, and then stopped knowing that whatever he had to say, it wasn’t going to come out right. Draco sensed his hesitation, and looked Harry over for a minute, to determine whether he was trustworthy. Then he slowly turned around and lifted up the back of his shirt. Harry felt sick at the sight that lay before him. Across Draco’s back were scars that wound their way through his flesh, marring the almost flawless boy. Draco only let him look for a moment, and then quickly snapped back into his previous position. Harry once again felt compelled to express the profoundest apology to Draco for all the wrong doings of the world. He wanted to, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead he looked at Draco who was now avoiding his eyes. Harry sat himself at the foot of Draco’s bed, and caught the pale fingers with his. Draco hesitantly met his eyes.

“It was the least I could do,” Harry professed, meeting Draco’s eyes in an understanding they had been fighting for since their first year. He let Draco’s hand go and got up to leave the room, knowing that Draco needed time to deal with this. Harry was just about to cross the threshold of the door when he heard Draco’s voice behind him.

“I’ll never be able to repay you, Potter. Not for my father’s death, and not for keeping me out of the Dark Lord’s ranks. And you know what, when those sodding reporters come to ask how you managed to kill him, tell them to piss off. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. People don’t understand that when it comes to war, we do what we have to.”

‘Déjà vu,’ Harry thought, and smiled to himself, never turning to face the boy who spoke to him. Instead he looked thoughtfully out toward the crowd, still oblivious to their conversation.

“There is one person I owe an explanation, but he’s the one person who will never ask...” Harry almost whispered. He undid the silencing spell and quietly walked away from Draco, leaving them both to deal with the travesties of war alone. It was a long walk back to his bed.

~*~

The shock of the final battle was somewhat evident in the students themselves. Even though they were safe in the common room, the threat of the awesome event occurring somewhere that they had forever considered safe was enough to upset them. Exams were called off for everyone but the students who were taking their N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s. They were, however, allowed to take the tests at their convenience during the summer months, if necessary.

Between the approaching tests and the issues with Sirius, Harry hardly had any time to think about the war during the day. Trying to cram seven years worth of material into your head while freeing your convicted godfather wasn’t an easy task. It was especially difficult when you had to try to win over Cornelius Fudge. More worried about his image than the truth, Fudge had little interest in seeking the innocence of Sirius Black. He insisted that Pettigrew would have to voluntarily go under truth potion, as would Sirius. Harry spent the better part of two days threatening the little weasel into drinking the potion. Harry reminded him that should he set foot on free soil, he would personally see to it that he begged for Azkaban. Apparently, Pettigrew thought the threat was considerable enough to finally agree, as long as he was granted immunity from the kiss. After some more threats from Harry, Fudge eventually agreed to the terms.

Then he dropped an even bigger bombshell on Harry. He would have to acquire the potion from a certified source. Certified meaning he would have to get it from a real life Potions Master, so the Ministry could track the ingredients and such, should it be necessary. There were plenty of them working in the Ministry, and had it not been for this particular cause, any of them would have jumped at the chance. But the dangers of crossing Fudge on something like this put a serious threat on your job. None of them were willing to help. That would mean that Harry would have to look outside the Ministry.

Searching through the library he found the list of noted Potions Masters. The first, Bridey McTufket, currently resided in western Cambodia. After 112 years of potions making, McTufket had become reclusive and now only accepts visitors on the second and third Tuesday of September. The next choice was Lionel Tocklien, a alchemist from Kenya who, during a freak accident ingested some strange chemicals, and now refuses to speak with anyone not related to his pet frog, Kingston. The list went on and on, the illnesses getting stranger as he went. One after another, Harry shot down all the potential people. After four pages of nut cases, Harry finally reached the bottom of the list. And there in tiny handwriting, was the one name he feared most: ‘Professor Severus Snape, Teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ Things weren’t looking good.

~*~

It was two days before graduation before he got up the nerve to ask him. Were it for anyone else, Harry would have had no qualms about it, but with Sirius being who he was, this could get messy, and Harry knew it. To make matters worse, Sirius was not being as helpful as he could be. When Harry told him that it was Severus that he was asking, Sirius voiced his immediate disapproval. Harry didn’t have the energy to argue the facts with his irrational Godfather. Perhaps, in time, Sirius would understand... perhaps not.

Exams were easier than Harry had anticipated. He had so much practical application with magic that he found most of it unchallenging. He even figured that he even did all right in Potions, but with a teacher like Snape, you had to do well to survive. The Gryffindor Tower was abuzz with excitement and sorrow. Everyone had the weight of the pending departure on their shoulders, and it wasn’t totally uncommon for you to find groups of people hugging and crying in any random place. Even the teachers seemed particularly sad to see that generation go.

Nostalgia was in the eyes of one and all, except the Slytherins. Whilst every house had a certain number of casualties, Slytherin suffered the hardest. At least a third of the children had lost a loved one in the fight, on both sides of the line of battle. While everyone else looked back with fond memories, the Slytherins stayed silent. No one cried, and no one hugged. They beard their crosses by themselves.

Harry seemed to be the only one who really noticed the goings of the Slytherin House. The added knowledge that Snape had to deal with these children made Harry even less excited to descend to the dungeons and see his help. But, knowing that tomorrow he would never get a chance, as it was the last day, he had to do it then. There was no putting this off. Time was ticking and the Ministry was impatient.

Harry stood outside the large oak door that would allow him access to the Potion Master’s office. He thought about how many times he had stood there, waiting for instructions for a detention, or to break another school rule. Harry exhaled one last time and banged his fist on the door. Insults could be heard under Snape’s breath, and Harry waited for him to unspell his doors.

“Come in,” he shouted. Harry opened the door with a little less trepidation than he had been faced with earlier. He leaned on the door frame and crossed his arms, eyeing up the man who sat before him.

Severus felt his heart stop. Of all the people he expected to pound on his door in the middle of the night, Harry Potter was the least expected. He took a good look at the boy in front of him. He wore a burgundy sweater, and blue jeans. His unruly hair fell in front of his piercing eyes, and the look on his face was unreadable. The candlelight that came from the room in which Severus was working accented the boy perfectly. He silently cursed whatever god that had created Harry for making him look like that. But before he let his thoughts run away with him, he pulled himself back into character and met his eyes with a cold glare.

“Pray tell, Mr. Potter, what brings you down here? Seeing as how there are only two more days left for you and your obnoxious friends, why is it that you feel you must grace me with your presence? Am I to be forever plagued?” Snape quipped, with a bored look on his face. Harry just smiled, and walked forward toward the great mahogany desk at which Snape sat.

“Why, Professor, I am here for the same reason any Gryffindor calls on a Slytherin. I need something.” Harry still looked calm. Seven years of dealing with the man had taught him that self-assurance could be a good thing when it was done carefully. Severus sighed, and took off the glasses he had been wearing to read the fine print in the ancient Latin text that was sprawled across his desk. He rubbed his eyes.

“Well, get on with it, Potter. What do you need and why?” Harry jumped into his story of his godfather’s innocence and the problems with Fudge. Snape looked annoyed, but continued to let Harry talk without interrupting. It wasn’t until Harry was finished that he finally said anything.

“I see. So, you naturally looked up the Certified Potion Masters outside the Ministry and came across the largest running list of the mentally ill ever recorded, if the list is the same as the last time I read it.”

“That’s correct, Sir,” Harry replied, feeling embarrassed about having not come to Snape in the first place.

“So, when you saw that I was the only semi-lucent member, you decided it was worth a stab.”

“I’m doing what I have to, Sir,” Harry replied once more, meeting Severus’s eyes with his. The expression on Snape’s face changed as he recognized his own words. His eyes softened, and he looked at Harrth ath an inquisitive glance. Then a flash of something spread across him, and he folded his hands on his desk.

“Very well, Potter. Mind you, I am only doing this because I hate Fudge more than I hate Black. I’ll need to collect certain ingredients for this, which will take me awhile. We’ll need something more complex than normal truth potion to get through whatever Voldemort has placed on that sniveling rat. I’ll owl the Ministry immediately to let them know.” Harry’s eyes lit up.

“Thank you, Sir. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Snape said off-handedly, and got up to open the door and show Harry out. He had one hand on the doorknob and was standing toe to toe with Harry. Harry looked up once more to meet his eyes.

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry said one more time, in the tiniest whisper, the words barely making it out into the world. Snape relaxed his face and looked at Harry closely. The gravity between them magnified intensely at that very moment. The world blurred, and for a millisecond, nothing outside the two of them existed. All they could concentrate on was the senses that were swirling around their brains. Lightning surged through them as their hands met. Snape leaned down over Harry and put his face just centimeters from Harry’s. Both of them stopped breathing. But at that very moment, the spell was broken by a knock at the door. They instantly let one another go.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow when you can pick up the potion,” Snape replied gruffly. Harry ran his hands through his hair and nodded. Snape opened the door, and there stood a third year Slytherin boy, who obviously needed to speak with his Head of House for one reason or another. Snape looked kindly at the young boy and ushered him into the office.

“Give me a second, Mathiaus. I am just seeing Mr. Potter out.”

And with that, Harry walked down the hallway toward the Gryffindor Tower. He mused about what had just happened. Things had gone much better than he had inteneded. Once he was finally tucked safely into bed, he let his mind wander back. He closed his eyes, and once again, held that energy between them. His last thought before falling asleep was, ‘How extraordinary.’


***Authors Note******
This chapter was longer, I hope you're into it. I don't mean to keep you on the edge of your seat. I am working lots of different things into this, so I'll try to write lots and lots.........I would like you thank all of you who reviewed. The number of people is just extraordinary. You have pleased me beyond anything I could have imagined. It really keeps me writing, and makes me feel loved. Each and every message is special to me.....

And he sayth unto them: Review thy Fic....
and it was done!!!!!