En moi, en moi toi que j’aime,

dis-moi, dis-moi quand ça n’va pas

il n’y a que ça qui nous gouverne,

dis-moi combien de fois.

"Ah, Severus, how good of you to come," Albus Dumbledore greeted cheerfully, gesturing toward a blue plush wing-backed chair in front of his desk. Severus entered the room scowling, and crossed in his usual impatient manner. He froze suddenly at the sight of the guest sitting in the chair he normally sat in when he was unfortunate enough to be asked to the headmaster’s office. His scowl deepened to a grimace as he stared at the face of Harry Potter, the boy who refused to die.

Not so much a boy anymore, he reminded himself studying the young man. Despite the dark side’s best efforts, the boy had grown into a man of twenty-three and could have passed for much older. His gaunt cheeks appeared even hollower for their two day growth of beard. His thin pale skin contrasted starkly with the dark shadows under his eyes, which had lost their acclaimed sparkle. Even without glasses, Harry’s gaze was guarded, dulled. Eight years of war will do that to a person, Severus thought bitterly.

Eight years. Eight years of working in the shadows, and speaking in whispers. A bloody lot of good it’d done, too. Despite all of Severus’ dirty work and the heroic efforts of the Order of the Phoenix, Voldemort was still there, holding doggedly to his ambition of world domination. Still engaging in pissing contests with Dumbledore. And Severus Snape in the middle of it all: Voldemort’s whipping boy, Dumbledore’s eyes and ears. And Potions Master to boot.

He looked uneasily between the headmaster and his former student. They had decided long ago that Severus would have little or no contact with the members of the Order. The less he knew about the Order’s movements, the less he’d be able to tell Voldemort were his true intentions ever discovered. Torture was a much more powerful device than any truth serum. Severus knew firsthand just how powerful it could be.

"Hullo, Professor Snape," Harry said, an uncertain smile playing on his lips. Severus nodded in recognition and sat down. He was stunned by how much the boy had changed since his graduation five years earlier. His voice had lost all the clumsiness of youth. He looked exhausted. Of course, anyone would appear so if his head threatened to split in two whenever the Dark Lord went on a power trip. Severus grimaced at the thought.

"Would you care for some tea, Severus?"

"I’m afraid I’ve too much to do without breaking for tea, Albus," he glowered. "If we could go directly to the point of this meeting."

"Of course," the old man said, a sudden glimmer shining in his blue eyes. "You do look tired. I say, the both of you look as though you could do with a kip." The old man smiled mischievously. "As a matter of fact, that is exactly what I was meaning to discuss today."

"He looks better with age," Harry thought, staring up at his former professor. The grey which peppered his ink black hair somehow made his skin not so sallow. His nose appeared less a cruel joke of nature than Harry remembered. All these years, Harry had kept a picture of the cruel, ugly potions master in his head, but the man standing before him clashed so violently with the image he’d held, that Harry wondered if he’d ever really seen him before. Far from intimidating him, Snape’s demeanour, his way of carrying himself...even the permanent sneer etched on his face, filled Harry with a sudden impulse to slap the man silly and then throw him on the floor and fuck the bitterness from him until he whimpered for mercy. An alarming arousal swirled in his abdomen.

What the hell am I doing?

He shook off his thought and greeted the man, who nodded dismissively. Harry clenched his jaw to keep from cursing.

What’d you expect? A little recognition, perhaps. Some sign that we have been fighting on the same side for the last eight years. Some sort of friendly gesture...A fucking Hello would have sufficed. He’s a git, Harry. He always has been. And you’re delusional if you think that anything would change the fact that the man hates you, has always hated you, and will always hate you. And I hate him too. I do. Really.

Snape’s voice pulled Harry out of his mental tirade. "What the hell are you going on about, Albus?"

"Language, Severus," the old man said mildly.

Severus snorted, shaking his head. "Oh, I’m sorry. Have I assaulted Mr. Potter’s precious ears?"

"Fuck off, Snape!" spat Harry before he had the chance to edit his thoughts. He locked his gaze on his former professor’s face to avoid looking at Dumbledore.

"You see, Albus. It seems our Mr. Potter has already learned the more colourful aspects of the English language."

"If you two are quite finished," Dumbledore said impatiently. Harry and Snape were engaged in a silent war of wills and neither was willing to back down first. Their eyes remained locked in a narrow beam of loathing. Dumbledore chuckled at their animosity and rose from his desk. "If I was sure about my plan before, your exchange has only confirmed the necessity of my experiment." He turned away from the two men and walked toward the window.

Addressing the glass, Dumbledore asked, "Have either of you heard of Le Lien des Beaux Rêves?" Neither man responded, knowing full well that Dumbledore would explain what the thing was without waiting for them to reveal their ignorance.

"It was developed by the French wizard François de Boncoeur in the 17th century as a wedding gift for his bride. The idea was to allow the couple to share in one another’s dreams. Very romantic, if I do say so myself," Dumbledore said, turning now and smiling to see his audience attentive.

"Unfortunately, his gift did more than link their dreams. At that time nothing was known about the workings of the subconscious. De Boncoeur was shocked to discover he had access to his new bride’s secret thoughts and fantasies and for the time they were sleeping learned a great deal more about his wife than he’d cared to know. He left her the morning after their wedding night. What he didn’t anticipate, however, was that the link lay not in the chain itself, but within the minds of the two users. After the first night, de Boncoeur needed only to think about his bride to be able to know exactly where she was, what she was doing, and how she was feeling."

Having skipped forward along the logical path of Dumbledore’s lecture, both men sat gaping in horror. Dumbledore’s blue eyes danced with amusement as he studied one face and then the other. He crossed back to his desk, opened a drawer and extracted a silver metallic ribbon. The material shimmered in the soft glow of lamp light and poured around the man’s aged hands as though it were liquid.

As the ribbon was revealed, Snape found his voice. "Albus, if you think for one moment that I’m going to allow this..." He trailed off, his words lost somewhere in the terror of the notion. He looked over at Harry who was shaking his head dumbly, opening and closing his mouth in mute protest.

"We have since perfected the magic. We now call it the Lien de Confiance, the bond of trust. When necessary, the link will allow one person access to the other," Dumbledore explained, holding up a patient hand to silence the potions master’s dissent. "Severus, we cannot have you disappearing again. The next time one of your meetings goes two weeks later than expected, we will know whether or not it’s appropriate to plan your memorial," Dumbledore said. Snape’s mouth shut firmly against a litany of curses.

The old man fixed his eyes on Harry, who felt himself grow smaller under their weight. "Likewise, the next time the Dark Lord insists on taking Harry hostage, we’ll know exactly where to find him."

Harry looked over at Snape and could see the man’s jaw chewing on unspoken words. He imagined tracing the jaw line with his tongue, and then waved away the fluttering image, suddenly quite irritated with himself. He shifted his attention back to the lien that the Headmaster still held in his hands. The foreboding and uncertainty which waltzed within his stomach since Dumbledore had invited him to "tea", were now twirling and turning into fear when he considered that Snape might enter his mind only to discover that he’d been lusting after the man from the moment Snape walked into the room.

"Albus," Snape began in a forced calm that sounded very close to breaking into hysterical enraged screaming. "I have never denied you anything. But this...I refuse to lay my mind open for his perusal," he said, through clenched teeth. "You cannot ask this of me."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Severus, I understand your fears. But let me stress again that the magic has been perfected. Once the initial bond has taken place, Harry will only have access to your thoughts at your invitation, so to speak."

Harry shot Snape an uncertain look, wondering if that was an invitation he was ready to accept. While curious to know what sorts of things lurked behind those stunning dark eyes, given the permanent scowl Snape wore, Harry felt pretty sure that the professor’s mind was no trip to EuroDisney. Snape turned to Harry and glared, making it perfectly clear that he would sooner dress in a pink tutu and run around Hogsmeade singing "I Feel Pretty" than extend such an invitation.

With a defeated sigh, Harry asked, "What do we have to do?"

Severus led Dumbledore and Harry to his chambers in the dungeon, cursing himself for agreeing to Dumbledore’s latest brilliant idea. The old man made it sound so simple-all they had to do was go to sleep and learn to shed their twelve years of mutual animosity in order to create a lasting bond between them. That’s all. It was no big deal, after all, laying one’s mind open for exploration.

He entered the door to his chambers and spun around to watch the two men trailing behind him. "Suppose we are unable to develop the trust necessary for this to work?"

"I’ll come back in the morning. If I find that you never woke up, I will admit that I was wrong, and the two of you can go back to hating one another in peace." Dumbledore’s blue eyes sparkled back at the glowering professor. "I’ll go at once so you can get started. Have some dinner and try to get to bed early. Just place the lien over your eyes, the rest will take care of itself."

Dumbledore turned to go. "Professor?" Harry said, "What happened with de Boncoeur and his wife?" Dumbledore’s face fell suddenly and he seemed intent on not meeting Harry’s eyes. Severus noticed that the man was avoiding his as well.

"Madame de Boncoeur met with a rather unfortunate accident. François, it seems, went mad." Dumbledore opened his mouth as though meaning to continue, but changed his mind and smiled at the two men staring at him dubiously. "The magic has been perfected," he repeated quickly and then wished the two sweet dreams before taking his leave.

Severus stood staring at the door for a long moment. Dumbledore’s plan was dodgy, at best. Even with the old man’s description of what should occur, he had no idea what to expect. It will allow you to see one another free of your respective guards. This explanation was enough to terrify him. His façade, as it were, was the only way he’d managed to survive all these years. And he was quite sure he didn’t want anyone to see through it. Let alone Harry Potter, the one whose knack for uncovering things he had no business knowing about had put numerous people including Harry himself in peril more times than Severus cared to remember.

Discovering what was prancing around Harry’s pretty head didn’t thrill him either. It seemed unfair, to say the least, that Severus was forced to offer so much for so little in return. But he still wasn’t quite sure what he had agreed to offer.

"Are you hungry?" he asked his unwanted guest.

"Not especially," Harry answered, "you?" Severus shook his head. He was quite sure his stomach would violently protest anything he might convince his throat to swallow.

Severus stared a moment longer before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I don’t suppose you brought your night clothes?

Harry shook his head. "I usually don’t wear-" He stopped himself and a blush rose to his cheeks. He laughed feebly and ran his hands over his face.

Severus tried to ignore an insistent image that was conjured by Harry’s half-statement. He focused his eyes on the young man’s face and forbade them to travel lower. Swallowing an unidentifiable lump in his throat, he regained his wit. "As fascinating as that information is Potter, I do hope you’ll forgive me if I ask you to surrender that particular comfort tonight."

Severus turned on heel and disappeared into an adjoining room before returning, throwing a grey nightshirt at Harry. "The bathroom is through there. Hurry up," Snape grumbled.

"Thanks," Harry pouted, brushing past the older man and disappearing behind the door of Snape’s bedroom. Severus could hear the bathroom door click shut and reluctantly he returned to his bedroom to prepare himself for his nightmare.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom to find Snape sitting in a grey nightshirt on the edge of the bed. Harry sat down cross-legged facing the other man’s back, trying all the while to calm a panicked voice in his head which had been incessantly screaming "You’re going to sleep with Professor Snape!" The voice, he thought fondly, sounded remarkably like Ron Weasley.

"I can’t believe we are doing this," Harry chortled, and only realised the statement had come out of his mouth when he heard Snape grunt in accordance. Encouraged that he’d gotten any response at all, he continued. "Do you ever get the impression that Dumbledore’s a bit of a sadist?" Snape turned with a look of surprise on his face. Harry thought he saw something resembling a smile cross the man’s lips making them look kissably soft and tempting. Harry bit his own bottom lip firmly.

"That may very well be the most insightful thing that ever emerged from your mouth, Potter," Snape jeered. Releasing his bottom lip and crushing it into the top one, Harry tried to keep himself from analysing the other man’s backhanded compliment.

"Well, are you ready?"

"Potter...Listen to me very carefully. I’m not pleased at the prospect of you traipsing about my brain. Before I submit to this, I want your word that whatever you may discover will stay between you and me."

Harry gaped in wonder at the desperation he saw on Snape’s face. The older man’s expression was enough to make Harry reconsider his rather hastily made decision. His stomach lurched with dread. Neither of them could be sure what would be revealed on the other side of consciousness, but Harry was sure now that he didn’t want to find out. What would the man discover? What would Harry discover about Snape? He felt dizzy at considering the possibilities and the potential for utter humiliation.

"I don’t want to do this," he said, his voice cracking with panic.

"Then I suggest you go to Dumbledore and tell him that," Snape said bitterly.

He was right, of course. Dumbledore would have his way. The old man always got his way; and Harry had to admit that the Headmaster never had a bad idea. He might not reveal his true motivations for what he did, but his intentions were always good and his actions were always necessary. Harry knew that even if he did go to Dumbledore and refuse, he would be right back in a matter of minutes, sitting on Snape’s bed, confronted with the very same daunting task. He might as well get this over with.

"You can trust me not to say anything," he said quietly. "Can I trust you?"

"That, I think, remains to be seen. But I swear not to share any of your dark secrets," Snape retorted, his sarcasm slapping the younger man across the ego. Harry’s mind searched its depths unsuccessfully for a snappy retort. Defeated, he flopped back on the bed. He’d never win with Snape.

The professor took the lien from his night table and lay down next to Harry. Their shoulders touched and Harry tried to focus his attention on the ceiling to distract himself from sheer maleness of the neighbouring body. He could scarcely remember the last time a warm, heavy weight occupied the bed next to him. That this weight happened to belong to the man whose hatred for Harry ran far beyond his twenty-three years didn’t seem to register with his neglected body.

"Here," Snape said, offering one end of the silvery ribbon to Harry. The two men laid the strip of material over their eyes. Harry moved even closer to his bed partner to accommodate the length of the material. Snape stiffened slightly next to him. The awkwardness of the situation was washed away in a cool wave of sleepiness that penetrated Harry’s eyelids and drugged his mind. He felt his body relax into the paralysis of sleep and he fell gently into oblivion.

As quickly as he had fallen, Severus came back to his senses. He sat up in the bed and looked over at Harry, who had his eyes closed with an ironic smile touching his lips. The pale face had no trace of stubble, nor did any shadow darken the otherwise perfect youthful visage. Harry’s eyes fluttered open and shone with all their former youthful splendour.

Beautiful, Severus thought dimly. so young and so fucking beautiful.

"Snape," Harry said, grinning up at the man with bemusement. I can hear you.

Severus’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open as Harry’s voice invaded his head. "I-this is," humiliating. "We need to find a way back," and kill Dumbledore. "We can’t do this," gods, I can’t do this.

Harry’s head swam in a flood of internal and external voices coming too fast and too loud to distinguish which was which. "Whoa! Calm down, you’re making me dizzy. We can’t go back, it’s too late," and this is fun. "We will just have to figure out what we’re supposed to do here," he said, staring at the man’s panicked expression. Harry’s mouth curled into a smile as he considered his former professor. Snape’s hair fell neatly around his sharply angled face which was covered in smooth creamy skin. Snape’s eyes danced in the dim light of a lamp and, even when narrowed into an attempted glare, seemed to smoulder. He looked better than Harry could have imagined. Or we might just shag each other until-shit. Sorry professor. I didn’t-I don’t...ah hell.

Harry dropped back down into the pillow and tried desperately to quiet his brain. He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "This is going to be harder than I thought." Dumbledore’s a dead man.

Snape laughed loudly and Harry opened his eyes again, realising he had never heard the other man laugh before. It was nice.

"Very few things amuse me. But finding that Dumbledore’s little golden boy has impure thoughts about the hated Potions Master-well, let’s just say I’m surprised." Harry snorted.

Not nearly as surprised as I am...

I didn’t realise you were queer.

"Well it isn’t something one broadcasts is it?" Harry growled, his eyes narrowing indignantly at the amused expression on the older man’s face.

"Oh, calm yourself. I just meant...," Snape furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his mouth into a tight line. "I’m not about to justify my thoughts, Potter." Get the fuck out of my head.

Gladly! "So, what are we supposed to do now?" Don’t think about shagging, don’t think about...damn. "Sorry," Harry muttered, shutting his eyes tightly and trying to will himself to disappear.

"Stop apologising. I vaguely remember being your age and I can’t say my thoughts were any deep--" bad! bad word! "...er, more profound than yours."

Harry sat up and glared defensively at Snape. "I don’t only think about sex, you know. I hardly ever do...It’s just that...well," You’re a sexy bast--I mean...I’m an arse.

You’re adora---damn.

What was that professor?

Bugger off, Harry...Potter. Damn.

Harry swallowed a laugh and tried to keep a straight face. "Right, so maybe we should get out of bed and explore," he said sternly before curling his lips into a coy smle. Or stay in bed and explore.

Careful what you wish for, Snape retorted, holding the young man’s gaze with his own; his eyes sparked dangerously.

Is that a challenge, Professor? Harry smiled bravely despite the ache of anticipation tugging at his stomach. He heard the pounding of a heart but couldn’t be sure whether it was Snape’s or his own.

"We would do well to remember the purpose of this mission," said Snape, unconvincingly.

Harry’s desire grabbed hold of his good sense, beat it to the ground and stood on it for good measure. A sudden startling image of his former professor flashed across his mind. Inspired by the unlikely intrusion, Harry crawled toward the professor slowly. "I think you’re right," Harry whispered. Didn’t he say something about bondage?

As though the thought were a spell, Severus found himself bound to the bed before either of them could tell what happened. Harry hovered seductively over the professor who was astonished to find himself in so compromising a position.

"Let me go," Snape insisted, and just as quickly as before, he was sitting again in his former position at the end of the bed.

"What the hell was that?" A mystified Harry Potter spat. Did I-did he...what?

"I don’t know," Snape muttered. But it will not happen again.

Harry’s brow furrowed with concentration as he tried to replay in slow motion everything he remembered happening. "I think I...sort of...I mean, an image came into my head and...and then..." Well, there you were.

Severus sneered. "Quite. And I..." Submitted to your dream, lost control...of course.

You accepted my invitation. Harry grinned.

"I hardly think this was Albus’ idea of bondage." Bonding...damn.

"Somehow I wouldn’t be surprised if this was exactly what he had in mind," Harry laughed. Snape shot him a warning glare and then rose from the bed.

"He said something about finding a door. So let’s go. The sooner I get you out of my head, the better," Snape muttered. He crossed to the door of his bedchamber, with Harry close at his heels. His hand hung hesitantly on the doorknob. He wasn’t sure what to expect on the other side. Somehow he didn’t think it would be the sitting room.

"Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?"

Foolhardy Gryffindor, Snape thought bitterly and turned the knob.

Harry followed as Snape cautiously stepped over the threshold of his bedchamber and into a corridor. The two men faced a divide, on either side of which were hallways leading Merlin knew where.

"We’re supposed to split up, I think," Harry said, eyeing the two passages warily. To explore one another’s memories.

Snape jerked his gaze toward Harry, but the younger man was already walking toward the corridor on the right. His steps were careful but determined. Suddenly, Harry stopped as though he’d hit an invisible wall. He turned to face Snape with an apologetic smile.

"You have to let me in, you know. I need your permission."

Snape grimaced. You don’t know what you’re asking, Potter.

"Well, I do know it’s the only way we’re going to get out of here. Look, either we can spend the entire night trying to avoid thinking something we’ll regret, or we can do what we came here to do." Harry gestured to the opposite corridor and encouraged the other man to try it. Snape walked guardedly to the entrance, took a deep breath, and entered.

Harry shut his eyes against a sudden feeling that he wasn’t alone in his head. It wasn’t like before when the invasion was simply a foreign voice. This seemed much more real; even his body seemed to hold two.

When Snape stepped suddenly out of the passageway, Harry took a few steps back to keep from falling over from the sudden absence. He opened his eyes, wildly searching for something to anchor him. He found Snape’s face.

"Well, go on then, Potter," Snape scowled. I’ll kill you if you betray me.

Snape turned back into the corridor. Harry braced himself for another invasion and, taking a moment to recover, he finally crossed into Snape’s subconscious.

Harry hadn’t known what to expect; but what he found reminded him of a muggle museum he had once been to--frozen moments carefully recreated in life-sized dioramas. He passed tableau after tableau and stared forward down the long hall lined on either side with decades of memories, beginning with what had just happened before he entered the corridor. He studied each one carefully-the scene in the dreamed bedchamber, the scene from before they fell asleep, and in Dumbledore’s office.

You’d better move along, Potter. You’ve another forty years ahead of you. Snape’s voice rang through his own musings as clearly as if he were standing next to him.

"How-" he began and then realised the answer to his own question. He was able to determine exactly where Snape was in his memory simply by concentrating on the man. At first, he was surprised to realise that Snape had already travelled two years into his past. The surprise turned to horror when Harry realised, what, exactly the professor was looking at.

"My, my Potter. I never realised you were so...imaginative."

Oh good god.

"Really Mr. Potter, didn’t anyone ever teach you not to play with your food?"

Harry made what can only be considered a mental mad dash in an attempt to escape Snape’s unrelenting taunts. Unsuccessful, he tried to ignore the scoffing man, and quickly, determinedly walked forward in Snape’s memory. That Snape perceived him as a sexual being wasn’t a problem; on the contrary, the prospect was rather enticing. But that the man had become an eye-witness to Harry’s kinkier side without so much as a first kiss, was more than Harry was prepared to handle. He would have preferred to reveal his fetishes over time.

"You know, Potter, if you were to put all of that in the other end, you might not be so thin. But I am glad to see young men so enthusiastic about their vegetables."

"Right, are you finished?" Harry said finally, gasping for air, or dignity...he couldn’t be sure which. He could hear Snape chortle, but the teasing ceased and Harry could feel him move on. He took a quick mental inventory of memories he might have forgotten about-intentionally or otherwise. His previous "I’ve nothing to hide" confidence was blown away by the full realisation of just what could be exposed through this experience. Harry trembled in the wake of the awareness, and clung desperately to the hope that maybe Snape wouldn’t notice those particular memories; maybe they would blend into the thousands of other far less humiliating scenes.

Tearing himself away from the dark hand of dread, Harry focused his attention on the scenes offered to him. Snape’s life as it was laid out swung between extremes. On the one end there was the life of the Potions Master. Image after image of Snape’s classes were, to say the least, dull. Harry’s former image of the professor was confirmed by the pictures he now perused. Snape had no private life.

However, scattered among the scowling scenes of confrontations with scared students were disturbing scenes of Snape’s life as a Death Eater/spy. Harry studied these images carefully. He’d never before realised just how closely his former professor played with death. Always a moment away from being discovered. Harry had had his fair share of the Cruciatus experience, but the other man seemed to accept it as part of his daily regime. A startling impulse to comfort his former professor surged through Harry. Whatever torment Voldemort had caused him, his experiences were nothing compared to what Snape had suffered.

Harry wandered on and eventually found himself back in his own school days. He smiled fondly at the various images of his frequent confrontations with the professor. Memories of detentions in the dungeons scrubbing out cauldrons or preparing various potions ingredients for use filled Harry with a strange longing to go back. Everything seemed simpler then-well for him, anyway. The older man seemed knee-deep in Death Eater nonsense. Harry wondered vaguely how the professor had managed to keep his cover all those years. Surely, Voldemort would expect that Snape help to capture Harry.

When Harry found himself gazing through the images of his fifth year, he suddenly stopped dead, gaping at one memory in particular. He approached the image, fascinated and sickened by the content. Snape, on his knees before Voldemort, completely naked and apparently beaten bloody. The Dark Lord’s robes were opened and Harry retched at the realisation of what Snape was going to do. A half-circle of Death Eaters looked on like eager vultures. Harry reached out absently to touch the barrier between himself and the tableau and found that the barrier gave way at his touch. Guided by his curiosity, he walked through.

Harry nearly buckled under the wave of pain and fear that assaulted him on the other side. The image sprang to life and he found himself living the captured moment. He could feel Snape’s torment, the aching of his body, the humiliation of his position. The tangy metallic taste of blood floated over his tongue like a ghost.

"You should thank me, Severus, for allowing you to live."

Voldemort’s thin, cold voice penetrated the atmosphere. Harry shuddered with real and reflected disgust and fear. Snape’s voice responded weakly.

"I am grateful, my lord, for the opportunity to serve you again. I was a fool to have waited so long. You are most merciful."

Harry felt his stomach lurch with loathing, and then became aware that the feeling was not his own, but Snape’s. Voldemort’s condescending laugh cast another wave of terror. The Dark Lord reached out and laid one bony hand on the professor’s head in a mock caress that made Harry’s skin crawl. Snape flinched visibly.

"Yes, Severus. You are most fortunate. I expect that your position in Dumbledore’s school will be useful to our cause."

Voldemort’s hand closed around a handful of blood-matted hair and he yanked Snape’s downcast face up to meet his eyes. The tip of his tongue darted between his lips momentarily before disappearing again. He hissed softly, "But first, let’s see just how well you can serve me."

Moved by impulse, Harry lunged forward, as though he would be able to stop what came next. He was powerless to touch Snape, powerless to help the man. Closer now to the scene, the emotions intensified and Harry could hear Snape’s thoughts whip around his head like the cold north wind.

Don’t think...it won’t last long...god, let me die...you deserve this...you owe it to Albus...the boy will be safe now...let me die...saving him...die

"Get out!"

An insistent force pushed Harry from the image and he fell back to the floor. Trembling from the combination of shock and relief at having been thrown out so violently, his hands clutched at his head as though trying to tear the memory away. His throat closed around a scream which found it’s way out in a hacking cough. Although the sensations he’d experienced had been left within the image, their impression lingered around him like a dense fog.

Once free to sort out and identify his own emotions, he found himself filled with an inexplicable rage. As much as Harry had loathed the ominous, scowling dungeon dweller, he couldn’t bear to see the man so broken. It wasn’t shocking really that Voldemort could be so evil, but that Dumbledore would ask Snape to submit himself to that left Harry wondering if there really was a good side in this war.

"Harry." Snape’s cold voice resounded in his head reminding Harry that he wasn’t alone.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered and then examined the phrase to see if there was any possible way of transforming it to mean everything he wanted to say. After a moment of bitter silence he heard Snape’s voice again.

"You should move on now."

Harry took a calming breath and fixed his attention on the other man. Apprehension filled him as he pinpointed the professor’s location. He shook his head frantically and silently begged Snape to walk away from the image before him. "We should stop. This wasn’t a good idea," he called out, springing to his feet and searching for an escape. Trapped and helpless, he began pleading. "Please don’t."

The memory came alive in his mind the moment the professor entered it. As though a switch were turned on, Harry found himself reliving one of the most painful moments of his existence. Once more, he could taste the grass and blood on his lips, and smell the earth as his nose smashed painfully into it again and again. The ghostly fingers of Crabbe and Goyle dug into his skin and Malfoy’s warm breath whispered against his ear, "What’s the matter, Potter. I thought queers liked it like this." Harry felt his knees go weak under the remembered pain of the wooden handle being rammed into him and he cried out as he fell to his knees. He panted when the sensations stopped, leaving him breathless and bewildered.

"Why didn’t you tell anyone?" The question rang through the fury of the aftermath. The voice didn’t wait for an answer but said, "This is why you quit Quidditch."

Raising himself back to his feet, Harry snorted with bitter laughter. "I guess my love for broomsticks dwindled after that."

"I was cruel to you. I--"

"Forget it. You didn’t know. Listen, you won’t-"

"Of course not."

Harry wandered silently down the corridor for what felt like an eternity. Occasionally, memories would wash over him. Snape, it seemed, was satisfying his curiosity about Harry’s actions while still in school. Every now and again Harry would hear, "Ha! I knew it!" But there didn’t seem to be bitterness in the voice and often Harry was surprised at how well Snape reacted when certain mysteries of the past were solved.

"Granger? She’s the one who broke into my office? Little cow had guts."

For Harry’s part, he was reluctant to examine any of the memories more closely. Snape’s memories were filled with visions of torture and while Harry was curious and spent a lot of time staring at the images, he didn’t wish to experience the pain. He didn’t want Snape to relive the memories either. So he contented himself with studying them from afar.

By his calculations, Snape had made much better time than he had. Harry still hadn’t made it through to his fourth year yet, and the other man was traversing the images of Harry’s first year. When Harry had passed what he suspected was the summer after Voldemort had risen, he was stopped by the image of the end of term feast.

This memory, for some reason, had always stuck out in his own consciousness. He remembered the feeling of Snape’s eyes watching him. He had looked up and met Snape’s eyes and was puzzled by their regard. Harry had continued to watch the man after he’d turned away, trying to determine what exactly was going on in the man’s head.

Harry approached the tableau cautiously, reassuring himself that the memory was harmless. He entered the image and was immediately struck by the almost unbearable noise that filled the Great Hall. In Harry’s memory the crowd of students had been much more subdued than usual. Reflected sensations of anger, fear and pity clashed within him as he drew closer to the professor. A whirlwind of thoughts filled the air.

How did he do it? How does he always manage to escape shaken, but otherwise unharmed? Physically, anyway. I wonder if he knows that the Hufflepuff boy is better off. He’ll be plagued for the rest of his life with the memory. Go on Potter, laugh with your friends. Pretend that you have any innocence left. Pretend that you are a normal boy and that it doesn’t bother you that neither of them will ever understand. Don’t you realise you should fear for your life?

Harry felt the professor tense as his own younger face focused on Snape. Harry could hear the blood pounding in the professor’s head. Harry was surprised that of all the conflicting emotions the professor was experiencing, hatred didn’t seem to be one of them.

Stupid boy. Why can’t you just be normal? Foolish, beautiful, sad little boy. I will end up dying to save you. And you won’t ever know.

When Snape’s attention turned toward his meal, Harry left the scene behind. He was responsible for all of it. If Snape died, it would be his fault. My blood. My fault.

"Nonsense. He’d have found a way to come back, Harry...Potter."

Harry started from the intrusion, but relaxed immediately, relieved for the company. "You can call me Harry, you know. Strange for my own head to call me Potter."

"I should say that that is the least strange thing that’s happened tonight."

"Good point," Harry snorted. "But if all of this will help to save your life, I’m glad we’re doing it. I don’t think I could handle it if you died."

No sooner were the words spoken than Harry felt the floor give beneath his feet and he was jerked downward. He awoke with a start and sat up; the ribbon fell from his face. For an instant, he couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming. Looking over, he could see the shadowed face of Snape, the dark eyes glinting up at him. The ribbon laying limply beside Snape’s head confirmed that the dream had, indeed, ended.

Harry fell back into the pillow. He couldn’t help feel a little disappointed that they were called back so soon. There were so many things he hadn’t seen yet, so much he still didn’t understand about the man next to him. He realised, also, that there were so many things he wanted Snape to see. The epiphany suspended itself within his conscious mind and he examined the significance of it. He wanted Snape to know him.

"Oh god," he murmured, and then looked over at Severus. He had never felt so empty before. Snape’s absence from him had gouged a bottomless pit into Harry’s gut. He rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, examining the professor’s face; searching for some sign that Snape felt the same way. His heart sank to see the usual stone cold mask staring back at him, telling nothing of what was going on behind those eyes.

"Did it work?" Harry asked. "I mean, we woke up, right?" The other man looked up at him silently. God, let it have worked, Harry prayed. "I can’t ...I mean...I-"

"Stop stuttering, Potter."

At the sound of the voice, Harry couldn’t be sure from where it came. Can you hear me? He tried to will his thoughts to enter the other man’s mind. A smile played on Snape’s lips, but no voice answered. Harry bit down on his bottom lip in frustration and sank back down into his pillow. Should’ve shagged him when I had a chance, he thought bitterly, closing his eyes, only to open them again when he felt the bed shaking with silent laughter.

"You!" Harry shouted, and Snape laughed out loud.

"Sorry," Snape said, gasping for air. "But the way you are able to jump from desperate isolation to ‘should’ve shagged him’ is quite remarkable."

"Then-but I...why-"

"Well, you’ve not been trying, have you?" Snape scoffed.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated again on Snape’s mind. He could feel something give, opening up and receiving him. He smiled with relief.

We won’t be making a habit of this, Potter. I expect some peace, after all.

When you want me to leave, just ask me to go, Harry responded contentedly, relishing in the feeling of being so completely joined with another person. Even if that person was Snape.

"What time do you suppose it is?" Harry wondered aloud. He wasn’t anywhere near able to fall asleep and from the feel of things, Snape wasn’t either. The two had been having a silent conversation about what they had experienced when the conversation lapsed into two different streams of consciousness weaving in and out of each other lazily. Harry rolled over onto his elbow and stared down at the man.

"Around 4 am, I think, why?" Snape said, staring up at the younger man. He wet his lips almost automatically; his breath hitched. He didn’t have to read the man’s mind to decipher the look on Harry’s face.

Because I want to kiss you now. Before this is all over. Harry leaned in close to Severus’ face. Harry’s tongue darted between his lips as he hovered over the other man. "Is this all right?" he whispered. Please say it’s all right. If I don’t have you right now...Oh, damn. You can hear that, can’t you? Sorry. I mean, you can say no. I-

Snape reached up and pulled Harry’s mouth down to meet his own. For a moment, all movement and thought gave over to sensation, the physical splendour of skin and nerve endings creating a chain reaction of heat running the length of both bodies. Harry opened his mouth to gasp for air and then brushed his tongue across Severus’ lips, asking permission to enter. A new flood of mutual awareness rushed over them as Harry buried his tongue, tasting every inch of Severus’ mouth.

Oh...you taste...god... Harry shivered under the inundation of feeling-both his own and his partner’s. He could feel, almost physically, everything that Snape had felt. He was giving and receiving all at once in endless reflection.

This is dangerous, Severus whispered into Harry’s consciousness.

It’s right, Harry responded, trailing his fingers down Severus’ torso. Perfect, brilliant.

Harry’s lips moved in a slow rhythm with his lover’s, before finally breaking free to travel to the man’s jaw line, tasting trails into salty-sweet flesh. He trembled with reflected arousal. Incredible. His fingers caressed Severus’ chest, finding the hard nub of an aroused nipple. He moved his fingers over it sensing a shiver of anticipation run through Severus’ body.

You’ll destroy me, Snape complained weakly. Harry grinned wickedly and gave the nipple an experimental pinch. Severus gasped and arched into the younger man’s touch. Harry nuzzled into the smooth white skin of Snape’s neck and bit the tender flesh lightly, amazed at the responses he could elicit.

Snape’s arm snaked around him and he pulled Harry onto his body. Harry straddled the older man’s stomach, and tugged up the borrowed over-large nightshirt. Severus stared up at Harry, watching the young agile body manoeuvre out of the clothes. The pale skin burned orange in the soft glow of the lamp. So beautiful.

Harry beamed as the reality of the moment sank in. "I’m going to shag Professor Snape," he laughed. And I have never wanted anything more in my entire life, he added silently, leaning into kiss the man. Harry felt a sort of joy wash over him and he couldn’t be sure if it was his own feeling or a reflection, and he wasn’t sure he cared to know. That it was there...that he was there was enough.

Incorrigible, Snape teased, reaching up and trailing his long pale fingers down the young man’s rib cage, and marvelling at the intensity of feeling this simple action caused. He shut his eyes to trap the sensation.

You’re lovely, Harry answered, and shifted off Snape to undress the man who sat up to help. Within seconds exquisite, white skin was revealed. The sight of Snape’s erection fighting for freedom against the thin fabric of his boxer shorts made the young man quiver. Harry reached out to brush it with his fingertips.

Black silk, Snape? How decadent!

Shut up and come here. Now.

Harry lunged forward to claim Severus’ mouth once more. His hands smoothed over every inch of skin he could reach. He trembled under their mutual excitement and pushed his lover back down to the bed to gain better access. His mouth went to work immediately, laving every inch of flesh, tugging mercilessly at the excited nipples while his hand desperately moved over the parts his mouth had neglected. Harry was unable to tell the difference between the outward gasps and the inward echoes of pleasure. He could scarcely separate his own excitement from that of the man underneath him. Severus’ hips bucked up against Harry’s stomach, sending a jolt of yearning through him. He slid down slowly, savouring the sensations this simple action provoked. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Severus’ boxers and pulled them off quickly, before attacking the newly exposed abdomen with his mouth.

He was drunk from the overload of pleasure and could hardly control himself. I know why De Boncoeur went mad, he thought vaguely, trying to breathe and gather enough wits to be able to remember what to do next. A voice echoed in his head. You’ll destroy me. Harry came to his senses long enough to realise that the voice was not his own.

"I think we might just destroy one another," he said out loud. Sweet destruction.

He traced the length of his lover’s erection, leisurely, enjoying every shudder. His tongue flickered further down to tease the hinge of Severus’ thigh. Nuzzling gently against the soft skin of Snape’s scrotum, Harry breathed in the man’s musk. He held the swollen sack tenderly and took the balls into his mouth, encouraged by the oh gods, please he was greeted with. He focused his attention completely on the task at hand, rolling the tender flesh along his tongue, sucking lightly, while his fingers moved to massage Snape’s prostate from the outside. When Snape began wriggling beneath him, Harry moved up, plunging his mouth around the stiff shaft, swallowing the entire length. Harry...oh fuck...

Harry began to move along the sensitive flesh, moving his tongue and hand in harmony.

"Stop...I can’t," Snape gasped, and stilled Harry’s head with both hands. It’s been too long. And your mouth...gods.

"I want to taste you," Harry hummed against the swollen, leaking tip. He lapped away the clear droplets, and shivered. After a moment’s hesitation, the hands fell away and Harry dived in again.

Perfect, you’re oh...

Harry moved methodically. His lover’s arousal threatened to engulf him. His body shuddered under an assault of pleasure, and he moaned in unison with the other man. He could feel the shaft beginning to swell and he plunged the entire length, feeling the warm liquid coat his throat. A groan caught in his throat as he swallowed and slid up slowly to capture every last drop of the surprisingly sweet liquid. He rested his cheek on Severus’ abdomen as they recovered. He listened as Snape’s breathing slowed to a normal rhythm, and panted to catch his own breath.

Still there? he asked after a long moment.

"Mm-hmm." Harry crawled back up to kiss the groggy man, before falling back onto his own pillow, nuzzling his head into the crook of Severus’ shoulder. Severus lay on his back with his eyes closed, and Harry watched him languidly.

"You’re incredible, Severus," Harry said, and licked his lips to taste the foreign word that had brushed them.

"You’d feel that way with whomever you were bound to."

Don’t ruin this, Harry pleaded.

"It’s true, Harry," Severus argued.

"Maybe, but I’m bound to you. Besides, I wanted you even before we were bound, remember?"

Snape snorted. "You’re 23. You want everyone."

The words stabbed him like a sword through the stomach. Snape felt it too and opened his eyes in alarm. "Oh gods," Snape gasped, and searched the younger man’s eyes. "Pot-Harry, that...this isn’t right."

"Too late," Harry sulked. What’s done is done.

"You know this can’t continue," Snape said quietly and was answered by a wave of denial, pain and fear which left him breathless. "Stop--" he gasped before his words were covered by Harry’s mouth.

Shut up, Harry pleaded. Just don’t think about it.

Under the shock of reflected emotions, Severus shut the younger man out of his mind and lingered in his doubt alone. He felt Harry’s desperate pleading gradually give over impassioned longing and let his worry be drawn up into Harry’s mouth along with his tongue and his will. Under these circumstances, there was nothing he could deny the younger man.

As the kiss flamed into an attempt to swallow one another alive, Severus lost control of his blocking mechanism, flogging Harry with the full force of his own reawakening desire. Harry groaned from the attack and was helpless to stop Severus from rolling him over onto his back. Severus slid his leg in between Harry’s knees. Harry moaned softly as Severus’ thigh brushed against his erection. Oh god, touch me... Harry thought. Snape laughed throatily. "Patience, Mr. Potter." Harry bit Severus’ lip to reprimand him and gasped again as he felt Severus’ fingers brushing along his ribcage.

Harry floated in a stream of sensation, falling under the spell of agile fingers playing him like a harp. The faint voice of a forgotten fantasy called from the midst of confusion. Under Severus’ weight Harry tensed up. Oh no...not like this, he told himself, trying to ignore Severus’ insistent hands ravaging his body. With one quick movement, the positions were reversed and Harry grinned down at the confounded man. I have to make you pay for seven years of torment.

Severus’ eyes widened and a smirk fell across his lips. You think an a great deal of yourself.

Harry grinned wickedly and sat up so that he pinned down Severus’ rapidly swelling erection. The breath of both men hitched and Harry shook his head. He was certain he could coax the older man to writhe and whimper. He was less confident in his ability to keep from doing the same. He would have to be careful.

"Watch," Harry commanded, locking his eyes on Severus’.

The image alone of Harry wrapping his long, agile fingers around his own cock would have been enough to drive Severus from mere arousal to desperate need. Add to that the fact that he could feel exactly how much Harry was enjoying his hand, and Severus’ own shaft began twitching uncontrollably. Both men moaned low in the throat when Harry began stroking.

Through the fury of pleasure and need, Severus’ mind managed to conjure a fleeting but frightening thought: If he was tortured like this every time Harry masturbated, he might never get any work done.

That’s a lovely idea, Harry laughed, imagining the professor trying to teach potions under an attack of Harry’s own pleasure.

"Potter!"

"Shhh..."

Harry quickened his strokes and the professor’s mind fell silent. The pressure from the younger man’s arse against his cock drove Severus to madness. His hips lurched up and the head of his shaft found the spot it was looking for. Harry jerked up suddenly, leaving Severus panting in disappointment. I don’t think so, Harry teased, and moved lower, trapping the other man’s penis between his thighs. Harry began stroking himself again slowly, concentrating on the increasingly lost expression of his former professor. With a sadistic grin, Harry slid his other hand down to tease the tender head poking out from between his thighs. With a yelp, Severus tried to still Harry’s hands.

"Tut, tut, professor," Harry mocked, pushing the pleading hands away. "This won’t do at all." Harry shifted off the other body and bounced off the bed, before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned seconds later and stood in the doorway. He could feel the other man frantically searching his brain for an entrance.

What are you up to, Potter?

Harry laughed coolly and then did his best to affect the Potions Master’s sneer. "Professor Snape," he reproached, "You cannot be trusted to restrain yourself. You’re intractable behaviour will not go unpunished."

Severus saw a sinister grin fall across Harry’s lips and then he caught a glimmer of the young man’s wand shimmering in the torch light. He managed a wordless protest before finding himself bound to the bed. He watched helplessly as Harry slinked across the room and climbed onto the bed. Harry leaned over the flustered man and nipped at his neck. Pressing his soft lips to the older man’s ear he whispered, "Déjà vu." Harry flicked the lobe of Severus’ ear lightly and rose up to stare sternly at the older man.

"Now, Severus. These are the rules. The ropes will allow you to move so long as you’re relaxed. If you choose to fight, either them or me, they’ll tighten." Harry looked very pleased with himself, and Severus’ expression wavered between anger and amusement.

It seems you’ve been dabbling a bit in the Dark Arts, Mr. Potter.

They have their uses. Harry trailed his wand down the torso of the bound professor, stopping to tap at the tip of his cock. Severus’ muscles tightened as he strained against the ropes.

Potter!

"Shhh..."

"Don’t shush me and keep that thing away from my..."

Harry muttered something and Snape arched in pleasure, as his cock tensed up visibly under the charm. Harry steadied himself with a hand on Severus’ stomach as a jolt of electricity ran directly to his own cock. Careful... he told himself.

Harry straddled the older man backwards and bent down with his chin nestled just under the ball sack. Resting the top of his head on the bed in between Severus’ bound legs, Harry began playfully flicking his tongue around the inner thigh, his hands slid under Severus’ ass and spread the cheeks apart, deliberately brushing his fingers just barely over the man’s opening. Severus groaned in anticipation, and Harry could feel warm gentle hands move to his hips and stroke the pale flesh.

Harry began lapping the underside of Severus’ scrotum and felt the older man’s cock jumping against his chest. He raised himself out of reach and heard a disappointed gasp escape his lover. He sucked gingerly at the swollen sack and closed his eyes to concentrate, shutting out another wave of longing. His fingers moved temptingly around the older man’s opening-stroking not quite close enough to give Severus what he was silently pleading for. The hands on his own ass became more insistent and then disappeared altogether. Harry chuckled at the frustrated dammit that resounded through his head. Sitting up and sliding himself down, he pulled Severus’ shaft up to meet his own and began stroking the two together in painfully slow motions. Painful for both of them, and Harry found it required every last ounce of will to keep from quickening his pace. When Severus’ hips jutted up, Harry stopped, glancing back behind him.

"I have ways to keep you still," he purred, and reached down for his wand. Severus let out a protesting groan and Harry eased off of the man, turning to face him. He leaned in to kiss Severus softly, despite the hungry mouth straining to crush itself against his own. You’re beautiful when you’re helpless.

Angry black eyes glared up at him. "I’ll get you back for this," Severus snarled.

Sounds promising. But first... Harry aimed his wand and Severus shut his eyes apprehensively. "Don’t worry love, I’d never hurt you," Harry cooed softly before straightening up and concentrating on the words. "Fructus Relaxatio absque Contentio," he whispered. After uttering another spell to unbind the man, Harry looked down adoringly at the completely tranquil professor lying on the bed.

Severus felt his trepidation drain from him in one long sigh. A warm rush of serenity flowed through him. He smiled as he considered the irony. He was going to be tortured with the exact opposite of the Cruciatus curse. His skin, he remarked, was no less sensitive and when he felt the warm breath against his opening, his entire body tingled as though Harry had breathed life into his nerve endings. He tried to jerk against the warm, firm tongue penetrating him, teasing him into a puddle of sensation, but he found his muscles uncooperative. He couldn’t will them to move. An expert finger replaced the tongue, breeching him with little resistance, followed almost immediately by a second. Severus began moaning constantly as the fingers found his prostate and massaged it relentlessly. He opened his eyes lazily to see Harry kneeling between his legs, his mouth open and his eyes fighting to stay focused on Severus’ face.

I swear I’ll die if I don’t fuck you now...

Severus let out a loud groan of agreement and Harry withdrew his fingers. "Lubrication," the younger man managed to pant.

Night stand. Severus answered, unsure whether or not his mouth was capable of forming words.

After a bit of frantic fumbling, Harry extracted a small jar and, opening it, began to coat himself. He positioned himself in between Severus’ thighs and hauled the legs up to drape over his shoulders. Severus accepted the new position as though it were the most natural in the world. Harry leaned over to lock his mouth onto the other man’s and nudged the head of his shaft against Severus’ opening. As he eased in slowly his brain swam in a flood of ecstasy. He nearly screamed from the rush of relief and pleasure coursing through him. He lifted his head and focused again on Severus, who was watching him just as intently. His own arse clenched down as he felt himself easing further inside his lover. Amazing...god Even with the relaxation charm, Severus squeezed around him tightly. After what seemed like an eternity, he was buried and nearly spent from the effort of controlling himself. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and he was already completely covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"Harry," Severus panted, "You’re going to kill me. I have to..." god let me move.

Harry blinked at the man as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. Please, Severus begged. Harry smirked.

"If I let you go, will you do as you’re told," Harry purred.

Not daring to withdraw, Harry groped around the bed for his wand. Finding it, he raised an eyebrow and wet his lips.

Fine. I promise.

"Evervate." Harry muttered, and then gasped as he felt the already heavenly tight ass clench around him. Oh holy fuck.... He leaned carefully into the back of the man’s thighs and waited for the wave of giddiness to pass. He opened his eyes and searched the other man’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Severus ceased to think as every muscle in his body spasmed back to life. Not painfully, exactly...just acutely aware. As though trying to catch up and give delayed responses to every single touch they’d been tortured with since their forced relaxation.

"Should I...do you want me to stop?" Harry’s voice wavered. "Severus? Are you all right?" Harry couldn’t quite identify the feelings flowing through him. There were simply too many, all ringing out like a disjointed orchestra-thrashing and crashing about. I’m so sorry. He began to pull out carefully when Severus’ legs fell around his waist and held him in place.

Severus’ eyes fluttered open and up to meet Harry’s green eyes which flickered with concern and passion. Severus managed to growl, "Don’t you dare stop," before his eyes fell closed again. He bit his lower lip.

Harry pumped once cautiously and immediately began thinking about what he always thought about when he was trying to distract himself from pleasure.

Boomslang skin, crushed beetles, leeches...

Only when he felt the bed shaking with silent laughter did he realise that maybe he should rethink his tactics. "Find that funny, do you?"

I’m pleased to know you found some use for my class, Potter.

Harry pulled back and thrust in hard to punish the man for his cheek-crying out as he did so. Severus bucked up against him and for all his former insistence upon control, Harry couldn’t contain himself any longer. Using his last conscious thought to angle himself just right, he began pounding into Severus fast and hard. Fucking him the way he had wanted to since the moment he’d seen him. He grasped Severus’ cock and began fisting it. With the addition of this new sensation, both men called out. As they were assaulted and crushed by wave upon wave of ecstasy, rhythm became obsolete. Nothing mattered except that they continued to move and thrust together, driving one another up and over the edge blissfully, ecstatically. Individual thoughts became lost in a stream of inner and outer voices; a chorus of echoes ...ohtheregodhardfuckdeepyesmetightdestroyimegoingtolovecomeyou...

Harry felt Severus erupt over his hand, and the shock waves of Severus’ orgasm thundered through him. He buried himself deep and collapsed onto Severus’ chest, his own orgasm colliding with his lover’s violently. Both men trembled in the wake.

Severus panted, completely shattered by the force of their lovemaking. He had no recollection of ever feeling so sweetly wasted, and he wondered vaguely if he’d ever recover. Not caring one way or another. Somewhere in the static silence of his mind he heard a voice whisper, I’m going to fall in love with you if that’s all right.

Whether the thought was his own or not, he couldn’t be sure.

"Ahem..."

Harry opened his eyes and gazed hazily at Albus Dumbledore, who stared down at the pile of bodies and limbs with a look that seemed both satisfied and concerned. Harry’s stomach jumped in horror as he felt the thing he’d been sleeping on stir.

"Perhaps the two of you would like to get cleaned up and join me in the sitting room," the old man said awkwardly and then quickly exited.

"Kill me now," Severus groaned, and pushed Harry off of him.

"I don’t ever remember having a hangover from sex before," Harry grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "I’m knackered." He smiled lazily and focused his eyes on Severus, who had returned to scowling at him.

"Bathroom. Now," Severus ordered. He walked stiffly across the room and disappeared behind the door. Harry stumbled after him seconds later. At the sight of Severus standing under the shower, Harry felt the resurrection of his desire. The images of the night before played like a filmstrip across his consciousness.

"Here," Snape said, handing Harry a washcloth and chamomile soap. Harry poured a bit of soap on the cloth and began massaging his lover’s chest.

"Not me. You," Snape grumbled.

Not nearly so much fun.

"Potter."

"Oh no," Harry laughed. "You’re not about to start that again." Harry raised himself onto his toes to kiss his lover’s mouth. Severus’ lips remained tight under his own, but he could sense the man’s body giving in.

"Albus is waiting, Harry," Severus croaked and then pushed past the disappointed younger man. Harry hurried to clean himself and came out after him.

"You won’t get rid of me that easily, you know," Harry warned, drying himself off.

"Don’t you understand?" Severus snapped. "I can be killed for something like this." The statement, delivered as a matter of fact, hit Harry like an unexpected fist in the stomach. Harry saw Severus wince and knew that he felt it too.

"Don’t say that. Ever," Harry choked. Severus finished fastening his robes in silence and left Harry to get dressed.

Harry found the headmaster and Severus in the sitting room. A tray of tea and scones sat on the corner of Snape’s cluttered desk. Harry poured himself a cup and walked over to where the two men sat by the fire. As there were only two chairs, Harry took a spot on the floor between them and rested his back against Severus’ chair.

"Severus has just been telling me of your adventure," Dumbledore said, his mouth twitching with a suppressed smile.

What did you tell him?

Nothing.

"It seems that the two of you were successful in completing the bond."

Harry nodded. You have no idea.

Severus choked on a mouthful of tea. "I trust," Dumbledore began carefully, his eyes narrowed on Harry, "that you two have, er, experimented with the connection outside the dream."

Harry chased back a laugh with a sip of tea.

"But, are you able to control it?" Dumbledore said smiling.

"Yes Albus. I can manage to keep my thoughts from him. But is it possible to block out Potter’s thoughts?" Severus asked, his tone heavy with resentment.

Why do you want to, you big git?

"I’m afraid, Severus, that’s not possible. Harry must be able to contact you if necessary." Yeah! Ha! "But I am sure Harry understands that he must only use the power when necessary," Dumbledore continued. Harry felt himself blush and he flinched in anticipation of a scathing remark from his lover.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry began, not knowing exactly how to put his question. "Can the connection...I mean, will it...er..."

"What Mr. Potter is stumbling toward is will the connection make me more likely to be killed? To which the response is yes. If Voldemort so much as suspects-"

"We may now be able to get there in time, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly.

.

"Doesn’t take much time to say Avada Kedavra, does it?" Severus retorted.

"To answer your question, Harry, Severus is no more vulnerable now than before. So long as he’s able to keep a safe distance from the Order," Dumbledore explained.

"What does that mean?" Harry felt his face go flush with panic.

Goodye Harry.

"It means that your contact with Severus must be kept to a minimum." Dumbledore looked at the young man apologetically. Harry’s heart jumped to his throat.

"Then I don’t want to be a part of the Order," he said, firmly.

What the hell are you doing?

I’m not giving you up.

It was just sex, Potter.

Dumbledore’s eyes searched both men’s faces. The lines about his mouth deepened into a frown and he shook his head. "Harry, whether or not you’re a part of the Order, doesn’t change the fact that if you insist on keeping close contact with Severus, you not only endanger yourself, but place Severus in great peril." Harry lowered his eyes and clenched his jaw obstinately. "I must apologise, Harry. I admit that I had hoped the two of you would bury your enmity. I hadn’t considered how deeply the bond would go. I must ask that you try to understand."

A violent storm of rage and loss thundered in Harry’s chest making it impossible to breathe or speak.

Harry, you have to stop, please. Severus’ voice invaded him.

Let me feel you, Harry pleaded.

No.

I need to know.

Harry felt the man open to him. All at once, Harry was pummelled by a sorrow so intense that it amplified his own infinitely. Like two mirrors staring at reflections. The pain was crushing and Harry lost awareness of his body. Instantly, the feeling was lifted as Severus managed to close himself off. Harry floated back to awareness, a sob trapped in his throat. He realised he had sunk to the floor and was still trembling from shock. He looked up at the Headmaster whose expression was frozen in terror. Harry felt a sudden violent hatred for the old man, a hatred fuelled by the injustice of the situation.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes flashing toward the man sitting across from him. "I think you and I had better go now."

Harry looked behind him to see Severus slumped weakly into the chair, his face curled into a grimace and his hand clutched his chest as though trying to keep his heart from escaping.

God what have I done? Harry thought, stunned.

Shut it off, Harry, I can’t...

Harry concentrated hard on containing his thoughts, his emotions, locking his lover out of his mind. He watched the relief relax the older man’s face, and Severus breathed.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t realise," Harry whispered.

Snape shook his head. "I know."

At the touch of Dumbledore’s hand on his shoulder, Harry started. "May I speak to him alone?" Harry croaked, his heart pounding in panic. His voice was laced with antipathy.

"Of course," Dumbledore said, and walked toward the door. "Please come to my office later, Severus," he said gently, and left the two men behind.

Harry kneeled before his lover and laid his head on the man’s chest. For a moment he only listened to Severus’ heart beating, steadily now.

"I don’t think I have ever felt so alone before," he laughed weakly.

"Nor I," Severus answered, running his fingers through Harry’s tousled hair.

"The war can’t last forever," Harry whispered. "I’ll be back."

"I know."

Harry looked up at him and held Severus’ face with his hand. He kissed the man sweetly, softly. Severus pulled him in to deepen the kiss. After a few seconds, they broke apart.

"Can my thoughts come to visit you sometimes?" Harry smiled.

Severus grunted and shook his head. "I don’t dare to think I could stop you."

"I’ll end up crazy if you die, you know," Harry said, not managing to affect a humorous tone.

"I’ll be careful. Do try to stay out of Voldemort’s reach," Severus said in a voice Harry knew as the Potions Master voice.

Harry nodded and walked back toward the door. He turned to stare at his lover and after a moment silently said, I love you, Severus.

With an exasperated sigh, Snape watched him walk out the door. That will be my dying thought.

Fin

* Rough translation of opening song lyrics: "In me, in me you whom I love,/ tell me, tell me when it’s not all right,/ there is nothing else which governs us,/ tell me how many times.