Rubbish.

Snape stood before a beautiful building, gilded and breathtaking in its clean, simple lines, the way the sunlight glimmered off its stain-glassed windows. He felt tears coursing down his cheeks as he studied every perfect facet of the structure, the wild vines that grew up the walls, melding it to nature seamlessly, the pristine white banners that flew from its turrets. Every part was without flaw, it was a fortress and yet welcomed with loving warmth. He knew that to walk the halls of this castle would be like coming home, and he would be safe there. Safer than he had ever been before in his life. However, the tears continued to flow for he also knew that at the very heart of this gorgeous palace was a courtyard and there grew a tree both terrible in its dark beauty and its irresistible fruit. He ached to enter, but knew that one step within would find him rushing to that tree to eat of the poisoned fruit, and so he forced himself to remain outside of those beckoning walls. He was cold and lonely, desperate to feel safe and warm in the palace, but a voice whispered on the breeze, wrenching a cry from him with it's awful truth. "You must destroy that which you love to kill that which grows within it. The palace can be rebuilt, but not if the foundation is riddled with the roots of death and hate. Break it down to rebuild it whole."

Snape woke on his bathroom floor with an anguished cry, pressing his face against the tiles as he forced the dream away into the dark place where his most painful memories lay hidden. After he had regained his composure, he rose and stumbled through the office and out to his bedroom, falling into bed to roll on his side and stare over at the sleeping visage of his ward. He shuddered and closed his eyes, remembering how much better he'd felt after Albus had torn down his own castle to eradicate the breathing beast within its walls. 'But, I was so much older than Harry. I knew so much more about life and the world than he does. What if I break him and he's not strong enough to rebuild his castle?' As if she were lying beside him, he heard the lilting tones of Lily's voice. He was strong enough to live this long, to remain unbroken and alive despite all that was against him. Are you really so arrogant that you think you can destroy him beyond repair?

He shook his head and drew his blankets up over himself, hoping that Lily was right and Harry posessed the ability to rebirth from the ashes of himself as a Pheonix does, or else he would be damning himself to hell and it would be no less than he deserved.

~~:~~

Harry woke gradually, stretching and groaning as his muscles did that deliciously painful twitchy thing, toes curling up and his cock thrusting proudly under the layer of his blankets. He smiled dreamily and slid a hand under them to curl around his throbbing shaft, shifting his hips and gasping at the feel of the soft fabric sliding over the sensitive skin of his crown. He stroked slowly as he tried to remember the dream he'd been having before the insistent throbbing of his cock had woken him, his lips tingled and he remembered a mouth pressed to his own, a tongue flicking to brush against his lips with such tenderness. He arched up off the bed, parting his lips and imagining the tongue pressing further into his mouth to coil and flick against his own, a shudder spreading outward from the tightening core of his pleasure.

He poked his tongue out and wriggled it in the air, the taste of cinnamon and firewhisky filling his mouth the way the breath of his dream lover had. He imagined licking the roof of his lover's mouth, feeling them shiver in his arms, the scent of dried leaves, cedar chips and something purely male wafting to him. He twitched a bit at the realization that his lover had been a man, but the idea didn't trouble him overmuch, as he'd suspected for a while that his experimentation with women had been just that. Thankfully, the wizarding world was far less concerned with people's sexual preferances than the Muggles. The Dursley's would have been furious if Harry had let them know he was gay, but he didn't figure anyone he knew now would care.

Of course, the only person he knew now was...SNAPE! He suddenly remembered the dream, the feel of Snape's lips, the taste of his intoxicating breath, the sensation of his warm body pressed against him. He groaned and jerked his hand away from his deflating cock, feeling a dull ache in his balls as his imminent release is denied. 'How can I be having those sort of dreams about that perverted, sadistic arsehole!?' He growled and rolled over in bed, pressing his body down firmly and gritting his teeth. 'I hate him!' He clenched his fists in the sheets and let out a shriek of frustration from behind his teeth, thrashing in the covers to try and rid himself of the energy his anger sent pumping through his limbs.

"Mr. Potter, if you tear your sheets, you will pay for them as well." The sound of that cool, bland voice stabbed into Harry like a white-hot poker, stirring up his anger into a full-on rage and he leapt from the bed, hurling himself blindly in the direction it came from. "I'll kill you! I hate you, Snape! I hate you!" Severus side-stepped the charge effortlessly and with a minimum of movement, sending Harry crashing into a wall, thumping his forehead rather hard, knocking himself on his arse with a grunt of pain. "The same goes for the walls. And, as I recall you had the opportunity to kill me yesterday and didn't, so don't be too insulted if your threat causes me little trepidation."

Harry bent forward, suddenly remembering he was naked and drawing his knees to his chin to hug his legs against his chest, wanting Snape to see as little of his naked form as humanly possible. "You wait, Snape. I'll come for you in the instant that you are not looking. I'll kill you laughing." The deathly calm and coldness of his voice sent a little thrill of panic fluttering in Harry's chest like a trapped bird, his words reminding him too much of the laughter he'd heard as he'd raced down the stairs to his final battle with Voldemort. 'I'm not like him! Snape deserves to die, he's evil...he's torturing me...this is completely different.'

"I know others who have laughed as they murdered, Mr. Potter, and I do not think you have it in you. Now, get up. You're going to bathe and dress, then eat breakfast. Today you will be cleaning the house from top to bottom." Harry's head snapped up, choosing to ignore the way Snape had echoed his own panicked thoughts, focusing on the second bit. "Cleaning? What the fuck makes you think I'll play house elf and clean your disgusting house, Snape?" Snape's wand seemed to appear from nowhere and a tongue of pale blue fire flicked from the end to stroke Harry's skin, agony crackling across his nerves. The pain was gone almost before it registered, and Harry distinctly heard Snape's next words. "For your vulgar, and predictable, backtalk last night and your pathetic attempt to attack me this morning. Would you rather serve your punishment in some other manner?"

The way Snape's beetle-black eyes moved over him made Harry shudder and he shook his head, forcing himself to his feet, turning slightly and cupping his hands over his genitals to hide them from Snape's scrutiny. "No...no, cleaning is good." A cold smirk curled Snape's lips and he nodded firmly before turning to stride from the room, leaving Harry to his morning ablutions.

~~:~~

Six hours later, a dusty, sweaty, cranky Harry almost wished he had requested a different form of punishment, even getting raped by a sadistic arsehole had to be better than trying to clean away a decade of dust with nothing but a nailbrush and handsoap. He felt as if his bones had been replaced with jelly as he carried the last pail of filthy water out to toss it in the backyard, but he also felt a strange sense of accomplishment. He returned and surveyed the house with a little smile, breathing deep of the fresh-smelling scent left behind by the soap, having rid the house of the musty smell of long disuse. Everything sparkled and gleamed, the whole house was as pristine as the day it had been built, and he had an idea he would be sleeping like a rock tonight.

He returned the cleaning supplies to the cabinet beneath the sink and headed back to the bedroom, in desperate need of a shower and a fresh change of clothes. He paused when he saw Snape exiting his office, the one room he'd been forbidden to clean, a frown on his face. "Something wrong, sir?" The heat of his rage had been scrubbed out by his strenuous work and he was feeling somewhat amiable towards his guardian. "Mmm? No, no...Something good, I think, actually, Harry." Snape held forth his left arm and lifted the sleeve of his robe, revealing his forearm, which was far more attractive than Harry had anticipated. Snape's skin was like flawless bone china, the black hairs making the lean musculature far more masculine than it might have been. "I...don't see anything, sir."

"Precisely, Harry. The Dark Mark has vanished." Harry's eyes widened and he leaned closer to study the skin intently, making sure it hadn't just faded. He caught that familiar musky, cedary, leafy scent and felt his cock titch along his thigh like a sleeping animal. As he watched, the skin under his gaze acquired goosebumps and the muscles twitched before Snape drew his arm away sharply and snapped. "It's gone, Potter. Now, go shower...you smell like one of your pitiful attempts at brewing a potion." Harry glanced up and straightened, tilting his head as he studied his guardian calmly a moment before heading into the bedroom, only allowing his smile to appear once his back was to the older man.

Severus slid his right hand beneath the arm of his robe and rubbed at the mutinous skin of his left forearm, still able to feel those soft, warm puffs of Harry's breath against it. He swallowed thickly and headed into the kitchen, willing his body into quietude, thankful for the strict self-control that came from being a spy for fifteen years. He could only hope that Harry either didn't see, or wouldn't guess the reason for, his reactions to the feel of the boy's breath.

Harry closed the bathroom door and made himself strip and set the water in the shower before allowing his mind to wander back to the way Snape's arm had twitched. His cock, already half-hard, slowly grew harder as he remembered every detail of his guardian's bared flesh, having seen so little that it somehow made even his arm sensual. 'Like those blokes back in the old days who'd get excited over looking at some brazen hussy's ankle.' He snorted and ducked under the spray of the hot water, licking his lips as he remembered the dream the night before, how Snape had kissed him until he'd felt positively dizzy with need. He imagined kissing that pale forearm, licking over the unblemished skin that once held the mark of his servitude to an evil Master, marking it for his own with nibbles and suckling kisses. He wondered if Snape would twitch all over, instead of just in his arm.

His right hand lowered to curl around the base of his cock and he leaned his shoulders back against the shower wall, tilting his hips forward to let the water fall over them and his weeping length. He brought his left arm up suddenly and pretended it was Snape's, licking away beads of moisture from his smooth skin, imagining himself slowly, eagerly making love to that, and only that, part of his guardian. He pictured the way Snape's composure would snap and pleasure would ripple across his aristocratic features, how he would call Harry's name as he licked across his inner elbow and then suckled firmly. A jolt of pleasure shot from Harry's arm straight to his cock and he groaned, hips rocking to thrust his length through his fingers. He bit at his inner elbow softly and another jolt of sweet electricity traveled across his chest and then down to his groin.

Somehow the idea of having only that small portion of his guardian to please thrilled him even more than the idea of having his whole body. He shuddered and groaned into his arm, suckling his way back up to his wrist, nipping there before moving higher to trace the lines in his palm with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck!" He hissed the word against his hand as a crackle of pleasure thrummed across his nerves. His hips thrust faster, hand turning and twisting on his length to make sure no inch went untouched, and he flicked his tongue against his palm again. "Yes...Mmm..." He was close, he could feel it, and he thought he knew what would send him over the edge, so he pressed his lips firmly to his palm and whispered desperately. "Severus!" The name became a cry of ecstasy as his cock twitched hard in his grip and ropes of cum erupted to paint the walls of the shower, leaving him feeling drained, satisfied and utterly limp.

He slid down to sit on the floor of the shower, trembling and purring with the delicious after effects of his orgasm, mulling over the odd discoveries he'd made. 'Who knew that the inner elbow and palm were so sensitive? Gods, that was hot. But, it's weird that the idea of licking and sucking on Snape's arm got me off so hard. Eh, it's probably like I thought, just the 'ankle syndrome'.' He stood when his legs felt stable and continued with his shower, having to finish in cold water since masturbating had used up so much of the hot water. Still, it was definitely worth it.