Bonds of Affection

Long silence hung between them. Harry opened his mouth as if to ask something – or say something, but no sound came out. He continued standing in front of Severus, who was looking at him thoughtfully.

Eventually, Severus pulled up a chair, and pointed to it. “Please sit down, Harry.”

Harry sat instantly, clenching his hands. “Are you angry?” he asked. His voice rang with anxiety.

“No.” Severus stood above him, holding Harry's shoulders. Harry lifted his head and glanced at him dubiously. “Well, maybe just a little,” Severus admitted. “But I also realize that I shouldn't be.”

Harry did not look reassured a single bit.

“Do you trust me?” Severus asked as gently as he could. “Do you trust me to do what is good for you?”

Harry nodded without saying a word.

“Remove your shirt for me, please.”

Harry's fingers flew to undo the buttons on his shirt, but his hands were shaking – and he could not undo them. Finally, in frustration, he simply ripped the shirt open, tore it off his body, and threw it onto the floor. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and shut his eyes. His entire body was trembling slightly when Severus ran his hand over his back, the fingers trailing along his spine.

Harry did not move when Severus reached for his wand, and remained absolutely still, until the tip of the wand touched the markings of Harry's slave-brand, the wooden point coming in contact with the image of the Snargaluff grafted onto his skin. It was then that Harry leapt to his feet as if he had been burned.

“Severus... no ... what are you doing?” Harry asked with dread. “Master?... please....”

Severus laid his hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him to sit down again. Harry complied reluctantly, his eyes fixed on Severus, watching him intently.

Severus sighed and stroked Harry's head with gentleness. “I am un-doing a mistake, Harry – mine. A proud, brave, independent seventeen year old boy has better things to display on his arm than an image of a dead stump with thorny tentacles.”

Harry covered the brand on his shoulder with his palm protectively. “Why?...” Harry asked miserably. “I thought.... ” he stammered and fell silent, as if he was short of breath. Finally, he managed to utter a pitiful plea: “Severus – I am sorry... I really am... Dumbledore was right..McGonagall too... you all were. I know that now! I shouldn't have decided something like that alone. I am sorry for going without asking you.... But please – don't.... don't reject me... ”

Severus watched in dismay, absolutely stunned, as Harry slid off the chair and knelt in front of him, grasping his legs, burying his face in them.

“Harry – calm down,” Severus said quickly. “I am not rejecting you. Just... please. Get up and listen to me. Would you?”

Harry shook his head, and made no move to get off his knees – he only pressed his face deeper into Severus' legs. “I can listen from here,” he mumbled weakly.

Severus stroked his hair again. “Alright... then...Harry. Listen to me. There are two ways to live this kind of life,” he said softly. “Both are valid, and both can be immensely enjoyable.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked weakly.

“Yes. One way is to simply be your own person, and live this sort of life on your own terms. You can play, you can make love however you want, and you can even surrender yourself to the other for a brief stretch of time, but at the end of the day, you only answer to yourself for what you do with your life.” Severus paused slightly, then continued: “Another way to do this, is to grant the person of your choosing a greater level of... control, if you will. It goes beyond playing. It involves deciding that someone else has a say in what you do, that someone else has a claim on your body, on your choices, on your very life. This way of life involves real punishments, real discipline, real obedience – even when you might disagree. It is not necessarily a better way. And I don't think that's what you want, deep down.”

Harry glanced up at him painfully. Severus gave him a small smile, and gently freed his legs from Harry's grip, lifting him to his feet.

“Let me tell you what I think will work best for us,” Severus offered. “I think you enjoy surrendering in love-making, and being on the bottom, so to speak. But I also think that you want to make your own choices, live your life on your own terms, and answer only to yourself. You want to belong with someone – but not to anyone. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. And I would not reject you, or love your any less because of this. Harry – you must understand, you don't need to be owned, in order to be loved.”

His explanation should have reassured Harry, or at least Severus was hoping that it would; but instead it caused his eyes flood with tears, and Severus swore inwardly. He reached to take Harry's face into his hands, and Harry shamelessly pressed his face into Severus' palms, sobbing quietly and dejectedly.

“Harry,” Severus called to him, but the sobbing did not subside. “Harry... you understand what I am saying, don't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered through the sobs.

“Then why are you crying? What's wrong?”

“Because... I am losing something,” Harry said quietly. “I really do want you to own me... not in order to be loved - but because I know you love me... more than I could ever love myself... That's why I need to be yours; and stay yours... I need you to speak into my life... every day, every time... and have a say in everything I do...” Severus only gazed at him speechlessly, as Harry's hands took his, and their fingers locked together.

“Back in Voldemort's hideout, after Pettigrew had me, or after Lucius ordered for you to punish me, why do you think I called you Master?” Harry spoke painfully but insistently. “Do you think I was playing? Or do you think I was trying to impress Bellatrix? I called you Master because it kept me going... knowing that in the midst of all of that, I was yours... in a secret way... in a way that none of them knew.. Knowing that when I got hurt... I could bring that pain, and put it in your hands... and you would take it and own it, along with the rest of me...”

Harry's hand was again curled around the slave-brand, shielding it from the wand. “Please don't,” he repeated, again and again. “Don't. Do something else – anything else. Cane me every day. Whip me. Find another way. Just don't give up on me...”

Severus sighed deeply and gathered Harry in his embrace, kissing the top of his head. Harry sobbed quietly, shuddering in his arms. “Please,” Harry repeated again. “There must be something I could say – some way I could beg to convince you...”

“You don't ever need to beg,” Severus cut him off, and drew him even closer. “Not for something like this.”

Harry laughed through the tears. “I thought you enjoyed it when I begged,” he said with quiet embarrassment.

“Of course,” Severus said softly. “But only for something you want. Never for something you need.”

Harry relaxed a little in his embrace. “You will let me stay... owned... then?” he asked with desperate hope.

“Yes.”

“You will .. punish me?” Harry asked, and there was a distinct tremor in his voice. “For real?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Harry said faintly and buried his face in Severus' chest. Severus stroked his bare back, sensing the heat emanating from Harry's skin. Harry stood still next to him, as if not daring to move and lose his touch. Finally, Severus leaned, bringing his lips to Harry's ear and whispered in his best sinister voice:

“Detention, Mr. Potter.”

TO BE CONTINUED...