Bruise Pristine
by Eriador117

Part 1

Grimmauld Place was an ugly, spiteful place and Harry hated it even more now that Sirius was no longer there. He'd been there since the second week of July, after Remus had come to call at the Dursleys' and discovered that Harry had been locked in his room since the end of term, despite the Order's threats to his relatives at the train station. Harry had known it would never have made much difference. The Dursleys always did what they wanted, they didn't really think that the Wizarding world would ever affect them.

Each day there was a different Order member on duty at the house to look after him. Every member except for Snape, the man hadn't been anywhere near Harry since school broke up. Kreacher was still skulking about the place somewhere but he knew enough to stay out of Harry's way. Harry was so angry with the house-elf that he wanted to kill him. He dreamed of it often enough and was surprised when he woke up to find the elf still alive, if not well, he seemed delusional at the best of times.

It was Dumbledore's turn to babysit him today and for the most part, Harry had ignored the man and spent most of the time in his room, just lying there and staring at the ceiling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten and he was in a state of almost light-headedness for the past few days. The world was fuzzy round the edges, everything had lost focus, things were easier that way. He didn't want to know how hard the world really was if it made him feel like this.

In a few days he would be sixteen, Sirius had promised they would spend the day together and do something special for his birthday, but it would never happen now. Sirius was gone and the grief was like a burning ember beneath his breastbone and sometimes he felt as if he couldn't breathe. As if he didn't want to breathe. He wanted someone to pay. Someone had to pay.

It was Snape's fault. If he hadn't kept goading Sirius about being a coward, Sirius would never have left. If Snape hadn't stopped giving him Occlumency lessons, Harry would never have seen that false vision of the Ministry of Magic. (Harry deliberately didn't think of the reason those lessons had ended so abruptly.) It was Snape's fault. All of it.

***

"Harry, you've got to eat something," admonished Dumbledore when Harry finally went downstairs. There was a plate of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice set out on the table for him. Harry took a bite of one and then set it back down, everything tasted like ashes in his mouth. How could he think of eating when Sirius would never eat again? He avoided looking at the headmaster, afraid that he would feel that uncontrollable anger again, Voldemort's anger, but underneath Harry knew there was some of his own anger too. Anger at being left in the dark for so long.

"Harry, Professor Snape told me why he stopped giving you Occlumency lessons," Dumbledore said, twirling his beard. "You know why I can't give you those lessons, Harry, but you do need to resume them."

"What?" The man couldn't mean what Harry thought he meant.

"You will apologise to Professor Snape for the violation of his privacy and you will request that he takes you back for Occlumency, Harry."

"No," said Harry stubbornly, standing up so fast that his chair clattered to the tiled floor of the kitchen.

"No? I'm not sure I understand you, Harry."

"I won't apologise to him! Not after what he's done! He killed Sirius!" yelled Harry so hard he though his lungs might burst.

"Harry, you must do this. I insist," said the headmaster calmly.

"I don't care what you bloody insist on! I won't do it!" Harry ran from the room, away from him, away from the memories crowding in his mind. The surprise on Sirius' face as he felt the curse, the slow fall and Harry wanted to yank every thought from his head, not have Snape poking round in there, berating him, belittling him at every opportunity.

Harry stomped up the stairs, not caring if he woke the portrait of Mrs. Black and made his way to one of the drawing rooms. It was lined with glass fronted cabinets, filled with dark curios of all sorts. He didn't even know what half of them were. It was the glass Harry was more interested in. He felt, he felt coiled as if he wanted to snap in two, anger and grief welling up in him so fast that he wasn't sure which he was feeling more. There was a hollow ache in his chest whenever he thought of his godfather and it would never be filled. Sirius was gone and he wasn't coming back.

Harry howled and grabbed one the chairs, throwing it at the first cabinet. Glass shattered, shards flowing out and grazing his arms, but he didn't care. He needed to feel something, something other than this hollow emptiness that just wasn't getting any easier to bear as the days passed. He shattered three more cabinets, blood dripping down his arms before he heard the voice of the man he least wanted to see.

"Quite done with our little tantrum, are we, Potter?"

Harry's head snapped round so fast he was surprised it didn't fly off from his neck. Snape.

"You think that's a tantrum?"

"Yes, you're a spoiled little boy who always wants to have things going his own way. Yet again, you have given no thought to those around you. Destroying Order property, damaging yourself so that people will feel sorry for you. I have news for you, Potter. Acts like this will do nothing to garner anyone's sympathy. You're pathetic, just like that mutt of a godfather."

"You bastard!" screamed Harry. "Take that back! Sirius was worth ten of you!" Even as he said it, Harry's mind was drawn back to the pensieve and what he saw. How his father, Sirius and the Marauders had bullied Snape, just because Sirius had said he was bored.

"I believe the headmaster said you had something to say to me, Potter?" Snape continued, as if he hadn't even heard Harry's outburst.

"I have nothing to say to you," spat Harry as he headed towards the door. Snape reached out and grabbed hold of his right arm, the pain from his cuts flaring anew at the contact.

"No, Potter? I believe you owe me an apology?"

"I owe you nothing!"

Snape squeezed his arm even tighter. Harry could Feel Snape's breath, hot in his ear. He bit his lip when he felt the first stirrings of his cock, hardening against the zip of his jeans. Not now! It couldn't happen now, not here, not with Snape! "Are you sure about that?" snarled Snape, close to his ear. He was so close, Harry could smell the man's soap and a hint of coffee. He was too warm, too light-headed and he had to get away before his teacher saw, before he knew the effect he was having on Harry.

"Let go of me!" hissed Harry, struggling out of the man's grasp. "I hate you!"

"I can assure you, Potter, the feeling is entirely mutual. I suggest you get those cuts seen to. We wouldn't want them to become infected, now would we?" He dropped Harry's arm so fast that it took a few moments for Harry to realise that he was indeed free and could now move away from him.

Harry bolted upstairs, his whole body aflame, as if he could still feel Snape pressed so close against him, could still feel the man's touch on his skin. The small cuts on his arm were stinging and he was leaving a trail of bloody droplets as he made his way up the stairs, but he didn't care at that moment. All he cared about was getting to his room and having some privacy.

His cock throbbed in his trousers as he slammed the bedroom door and leaned panting against it, the urgency he felt like nothing he'd ever felt before. He'd touched himself, but it had never felt like this, as if he would go mad if he didn't do something now. He barely had unzipped his trousers and cupped his erection before he was coming almost immediately, spurting over his hands and his clothes. He could still smell Snape, could still feel the ghost of the man's touch on his skin, remember the pain as he'd held his arm.

Harry stayed hard as he thought of Snape and he rubbed himself frantically to a second orgasm as he thought of the Potions master. His legs buckled as the release left him, he landed flat on his arse by the door as he squeezed and squeezed around his prick, he just couldn't seem to stop coming and he was sobbing by the time he was fully spent.

It was the first time he'd cried since Sirius had gone and once started it was like a dam inside him had burst open and all the grief, all the fear just poured from him in waves. He wept for over an hour, resting his head on his knees as he trembled and cried it all out. Harry could almost imagine Sirius' voice in his ears, ashamed of Harry for what he'd just done.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Harry sobbed to the empty room, not entirely sure what he was sorry for or indeed who the apology was aimed at. He couldn't make it to the bed, he curled up on the floor, hugging his misery to him as if it was his only friend now.

***

The Order were wearing him down. No matter who it was, they all wanted him to take the Occlumency lessons again, although only Dumbledore knew the reason they had stopped in the first place. Harry didn't want to apologise to Snape and he certainly didn't want the man poking about in his mind again, but the nightmares and visions were getting worse and he was afraid he was going to make the same mistake again. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to say sorry to Snape. It wouldn't mean that he meant it.

The week before school started, he got his chance. It was the first time Snape had been at Grimmauld Place since that night. A meeting had just broken up and Harry caught up with Snape just as he was stepping into the Floo in the kitchen.

"Professor Snape? May I talk to you for a minute?"

Snape paused, his hand still inside the Floo pot standing on the mantelpiece. "Come to your senses, Potter, have you? Stopped sulking?"

"I wasn't sulking! I was grieving!" God, the man could rile him like no one else could. He belatedly realised that shouting at his teacher was not going to help his case.

"Oh, of course, our Golden Boy was grieving. After all, no one else has ever lost anyone, have they?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry said quietly. "I - I wanted to apologise, sir, about the pensieve. I won't do it again."

"Too right you won't, Potter, for I will not be so foolish to allow you anywhere near my memories ever again."

"But - I thought - the headmaster said..."

"You thought did you, Potter? That makes a change, doesn't it? You thought that you could come to me with an insincere apology and hope to sway me? I don't care how bad the nightmares get or how many false visions the Dark Lord sends you, Potter, you will never, never learn Occlumency from me ever again!" Snape was so angry that his face was tinged purple and spittle flew from the corners of his mouth.

"But, sir, I really need to learn it!" protested Harry, forgetting his own rule about not shouting.

"You should have thought of that before you invaded my privacy! Was it fun, Potter? Did you enjoy laughing with your little friends all about it? How the great James Potter and his friends brought Snivellus down a peg or two?"

"No, sir. I - I never told anyone."

"And I'm supposed to be grateful?" spat Snape. "I'm supposed to be grateful that you suddenly developed a conscience? Where was it in the first place, Potter? You knew those were my thoughts, they were private and yet still you looked!"

Snape's tirade woke up Mrs. Black's portrait and between her casting aspersions on Harry's heritage and Snape's ranting, Harry just wished he could disappear now.

"I - I'm sorry, sir," said Harry and this time he knew he meant it.

"Sorry just won't do, Potter. How do I know you're sincere?"

"Please, sir. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Snape stared at him, arching his left eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Yes, professor. Anything."

"You will obey me without question?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, you will report to me for detention on the first night back at school. After that we'll see about resuming your lessons."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," said Harry, even though he was wondering what he'd let himself in for.

Part Two

Harry could barely face his dinner on the first night back at Hogwarts. After the feast he had to report to Snape for detention and he was dreading it. He'd foolishly promised the man he would do anything. What was he thinking? What would the man make him do? Whatever it was, Harry would do. He knew he needed the Occlumency lessons again and if he had to be in detention for the entire school year then he would do it.

"Harry, how could you get detention your first night back?" asked Hermione, sharing worried glances at Ron. "What did you do?"

"It doesn't matter," replied Harry.

"Of course it matters!" hissed Hermione. "Harry, if Professor Snape is bullying you, you should tell someone."

Since when would that stop Snape? He'd been unfair to Harry since he first started school and although Harry now understood a bit better as to the reasons behind it, it still didn't mean that it was right for Snape to take his anger out on Harry because Harry happened to be James' son and looked like him. Harry wondered if Snape would still have mistreated him so much if Harry had allowed the Sorting Hat to place him in Slytherin after all. He wondered if Snape even knew that the Hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin first.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't tell them the reason he had detention and he didn't feel like arguing about it all through the feast either. Harry reached for a bowl of chocolate pudding and ate it, filling his mouth just so that they would stop pestering him to talk, not that he really wanted to eat it. Hermione clucked her tongue, still sharing those same looks with Ron and Harry swallowed around the ball of anger that had suddenly lodged in his throat. They'd been talking about him behind his back all summer no doubt, owls flying between them. Except for his birthday cards, delivered by Dumbledore, he hadn't heard from either of them all summer.

So Ron and Hermione wanted to discuss him, did they? Well, let them, he was past caring by now. There was a psychopath out there intent on killing him and Harry was going to make sure he wouldn't get the chance. It was probably best if he didn't have friends anyway. Look what happened to people you loved, they got hurt, they left you and Harry could not bear to go through that again. It would be easier this way.

All too soon the feast ended and Harry saw Snape lead the new first year Slytherins out of the Hall. As Snape passed the Gryffindor tables, he paused by Harry and mouthed, "Fifteen minutes."

Harry nodded to show he'd understood the directions and a few minutes later he left the feast and made his way down to the dungeons. It was early he knew, but there was no point in going back to Gryffindor Tower, it would take ten minutes to get there and back and by that time he would be late. Being late would certainly not endear him to the Potions master, so Harry just waited by Snape's office door until the man himself came gliding down the dungeon corridor, his black robes billowing behind him like wings.

"On time, I see, Potter," he said, pointing his wand at the office door so that it swung open on its own. "That's a good start. In." Snape stood by the door, waving his hand to indicate that Harry should precede him in. Harry obeyed, feeling strangely nervous. It wasn't as if he'd never had detention with Snape before, but he somehow sensed that these detentions would be different. These were something he'd asked for, he'd requested.

"Sit down, Potter," said Snape as he seated himself behind his desk. Harry sat down on the chair opposite the desk, a ladder back wooden chair that was the most uncomfortable item of furniture he'd ever had the misfortune to sit on. "I must confess, Potter that I am surprised to see you here tonight."

"But, you said I had detention!"

"Number one, Potter. Whenever you are in this room you will call me sir or Professor at all times, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Number two, you will not under any circumstances reveal what you saw in the pensieve to anyone, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Number three, you will never speak of what happens in these rooms to anyone else. No running to Dumbledore or the other teachers because you think my methods are harsh."

"No, sir. I wouldn't."

"Number four, you will have detention with me each evening after dinner for the next three weeks -"

"Three weeks?" gasped Harry and then belatedly added the "sir".

"Do not interrupt me again, Potter. Yes, three weeks. If you can manage to cope with your detention for three weeks, then we will see if you were really sincere. If I hear one complaint from you, just one to any of your friends or to any of the other teachers that I am treating you unfairly, then this will all stop and you will forfeit my promise to teach you Occlumency. Do you understand?"

"Yes, professor."

"And now for your detention, Potter. It will be the same every night. You will kneel on the floor of this office and you will remain still for as long as I deem it necessary. When I say still, I mean perfectly still Potter. Your hands will be by your sides, you may not move them to scratch nor can you shift position once you've knelt on the floor. Well, what are you waiting for?" demanded Snape.

"Sir, I don't understand..."

"I have explained what you must do, Potter. If you cannot follow simple instructions, then how do you expect to master Occlumency? Do you wish to renege on your agreement, Potter? Did you not promise me that you would obey my instructions without fail?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry standing up and glancing at the floor, looking for a good place to kneel. The flagstone floor was rough and uneven. Nowhere looked particularly comfortable to kneel on for any length of time and Harry dithered, wondering what he ought to do.

Snape tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk. "I'm waiting, Potter."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, sinking to his knees and resting his hands by his side as he'd been ordered to do. He had no illusions on that score, it was an order and he would be expected to obey orders until Snape deemed him sincere enough to resume the lessons again.

Snape nodded lightly before accio'ing a heavy dusty book to him and began to read. After that, he ignored Harry for the most part, except when he thought Harry might have moved and his head shot up, his eyes glittered as he took in Harry's position on the floor.

Harry had never been good at staying still. He was always active, even as a child, much to the chagrin of the Dursleys. Knowing that he couldn't move made it even worse, his skin felt as if hundreds of insects were crawling all over his skin, making it itch. His knees throbbed, his back and shoulders ached for holding the one stance for so long. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead and lay hanging there on the tip of his nose, he could see it just out of the corner of his eye but knowing there was nothing he could do about it was almost unbearable. Harry desperately wanted to move but he wouldn't give Snape the satisfaction. He could do this. He could. He could.

"You are dismissed, Potter," said Snape, without even glancing up from his reading.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, struggling to his feet. His legs had gone to sleep and his feet were stinging as the blood resettled itself again. The door seemed even further away before he first came in and Harry just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, his legs seemed to have turned to water but he would not ask for the man's help. He could make it to the door by himself.

"Tomorrow evening, Mr. Potter," Snape reminded him just as Harry reached for the door handle and missed it by a few inches. What was wrong with him? Why did everything seem so weird?

"Yes, sir," said Harry, finally managing to yank the door open, only to be almost knocked over by Draco Malfoy who'd fallen into the room. Obviously the young Slytherin had been trying to listen to their conversation.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you care to enlighten me as to why you were eavesdropping?" Snape asked in a dangerous voice.

"No sir, I mean I wasn't eavesdropping," Malfoy tried to explain. "It's just some of the first years were a bit upset after your talk and..."

"Really, Mr. Malfoy? Potter, return to your dormitory at once. You have only a few minutes until curfew."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, almost running in his haste to get away from them. Draco was lying, he was sure of it, but wouldn't Snape know being the skilled Occlumens he was? He always seemed to know when Harry was lying anyway.

Why was Malfoy eavesdropping, or trying to, on Snape? Or was it Harry's conversation he was so interested in? And on whose orders was he doing it? Voldemort's? His father's? Was he even in contact with Lucius now that he was in Azkaban? Did Azkaban allow visitors or letters?

He remembered Barty Crouch's confession about his parents coming to visit him, but that seemed to be a one off thing and not something that seemed like a regular occurrence. Or was Malfoy doing it himself? Where were Crabbe and Goyle? It wasn't often Malfoy was to be found without his two sidekicks and Harry was just getting more and more confused the nearer to Gryffindor Tower he got.

Just as he was about to give the password to the Fat Lady, the door swung open from the inside and Ron gaped at Harry. "There you are, mate. I was just going to fetch you. McGonagall's been in, the headmaster wants to see you."

"Now?" queried Harry. He was tired, he ached all over and he just wanted to go to bed and forget about everything for a while.

"We'll, she did say as soon as possible," said Ron. "Harry are you all right? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine, just a bit tired."

"What did Snape make you do? Scrub out the cauldrons without magic?" asked Ron.

Harry didn't answer. He had no idea how to explain Snape's new idea for detention. He absently rubbed at the scar on his hand. I must not tell lies. "I'd better go then," said Harry, turning round before Ron got a chance to question him any further.

He wondered what on earth the headmaster wanted to see him for now.

Part 3

Severus Snape paced the headmaster's office, it was all he seemed to do in there these days. He'd gone as soon as he'd delivered Draco Malfoy back to the Slytherin dorms and interrogated him on the way. Not that he discovered much, Draco was still adamant that he hadn't been eavesdropping. Draco would not have discovered much with his own efforts either. Well aware that news of his true allegiances if discovered had made Severus a very paranoid man. All the rooms in his quarters were well warded and covered in silencing charms tied to his presence. It wouldn't matter if doors were open or shut, if Severus was in the room then no-one would be able to hear the conversation within.

"So, if as you think, he is spying, Severus, on whose orders? Voldemort's or his father's?"

"I do not know, Albus, but my guess is he is working for his father or hoping to avenge his father's imprisonment in some way. He thinks I should be doing more in order to secure his father's release from Azkaban and since I haven't, he does not confide in me as much as he used to. Either Potter or myself could be targets for his rage, but in my bones, I think he blames Potter more than me. Potter seems a much more likely target for him to go after."

"One of the many reasons I assigned you this duty, Severus. I know you will do your best, as you do in everything you attempt."

"Albus, I am still not sure this is the wisest course of action to take in regards to Potter," stated Severus. No doubt he was going to enjoy it, but that wasn't really the point. Was it for the best? He wasn’t sure what Dumbledore was trying to achieve, but he would do it because the man had told him it was important and nothing more.

"He agreed, didn't he?" said Dumbledore. "He's accepted the detentions?"

"Well, yes, but he doesn't know what's going to happen in the future though. If it gets out what I am attempting to do..." Visions of Azkaban flashed before his eyes.

"It won't, Severus. I won't be telling and neither will Harry. By the time you take him to the next stage, you will have him so well trained that he would never think of disobeying you. I know of your ... reputation in this art. Rest assured, Severus, you have my full blessing in this."

Yes, but none of the others had been Harry Potter, saviour and hope of the Wizarding world. He would be lucky to get to Azkaban for what he was going to do to the boy. The mob would lynch him if it was ever discovered.

"Thank you, headmaster," said Severus. He had the headmaster's blessing to do what he'd been dying to do to the Potter brat for years now.

To punish him. To break him.

He would not disappoint.

***

The spiral staircase was already opened when Harry reached it, which was good as he didn't know the new password. He passed Snape coming down as he was coming up, almost near the top of the stairs. It was a very narrow fit and Harry squeezed himself back against the wall as Snape passed him, even with that small distance between them, Harry's prick gave an interested twitch as Snape glowered down at him.

"What are you doing here after curfew, Potter?"

"P - Professor Dumbledore sent for me, sir."

"Did he? Very well, but make sure you go straight back to your dormitory afterwards." With that, Snape snapped his cloak around his heels and swept down the stairs so gracefully that it seemed he was floating rather than walking. Harry stared at the steps a long time after Snape disappeared from view, his groin and chest both feeling strangely painful.

The office door was already open when Harry stepped onto the small landing. He knocked on the door with his knuckles before entering and Dumbledore rushed from his seat to shake his hand. "Harry! Come in, come in!" Dumbledore beamed at him and held out a small saucer of lemon drops. Harry shook his head, feeling slightly sick.

The last time he had been in this office, Sirius had just died and Harry had destroyed almost all of Dumbledore's possessions in his rage. They were all fixed now, but he knew nothing could bring Sirius back and Harry blinked back the tears that threatened to spill.

Harry stood by the man's desk, as Dumbledore rummaged about in the drawers for something.

"Aha! Found it!" exclaimed Dumbledore as he emerged clutching a rolled up scroll tied with a red ribbon. "You were supposed to get this on your birthday, Harry, but all the red tape has only just been sorted through. The Ministry demanded a wait of thirty days at least to make sure he was really dead." Dumbledore handed him the scroll and Harry untied the ribbon, his eyes blurring as he read the first line.

The last will and testament of Sirius Algernon Black.

Sirius, oh, God, Sirius. Harry doubled over as if he'd just been punched in the gut. He felt sick and faint and he just wanted to grab a Time Turner and change everything. Only he couldn't, for in their fight with the Death Eaters at the Ministry, all the Time Turners had been destroyed. Sirius was never coming back and the parchment in his hand was the proof of that. He had to face it, he had to face it and get over it.

Sirius had left everything to him, not only Grimmauld Place but also a castle in Ireland, two cottages on the Isle of Man and a chateau in France. The Blacks had been very well connected, there were also acres of land with no buildings on them at the moment as well as all the money in Sirius' vault, jewellery and all the contents of each property. Added to his parent's legacy, Harry knew he was now a very rich young man. It didn't make the loss any easier to bear.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry and folded the scroll again.

"Harry, about Grimmauld Place..." the man began delicately and Harry tried not to laugh. He was a fool, they all pretended they were so worried about him, but really they were just worried about their precious headquarters. For a split second he felt like telling Dumbledore to stuff it, that they could just go and find somewhere else for their meetings, but his anger faded almost as quickly as it had come.

"The Order can still use it for headquarters, sir," said Harry. "It's not as if I use it that much, is it?"

"Thank you, Harry. Do you have any questions about the will? You have read it all?"

"Yes, sir. Can I go now?" For Harry was not in the mood for small talk.

"Harry, if anything is bothering you, you do know you can tell me, right?" Dumbledore twirled his beard.

"I'm fine, sir," said Harry firmly. Dumbledore was the last person he felt like confiding in at the moment.

"Very well, Harry. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

***

Harry had been in Snape's office more times than he cared to remember. His memories of the place were always of something unpleasant. Detentions, reprimands, Occlumency lessons - the reason he was here now.

His knees hurt and he shifted a little to try and get a better position on the unforgiving flagstone floor. He'd mistakenly sank to his knees just where a crack was digging into his knees. He could feel the ridge as it pressed into his flesh, even through his jeans and school robes.

"Did I say you could move, Potter?" growled Snape as his head snapped up from his desk. The quill in his hand was dripping red ink onto someone’s essay or test. Snape never used anything besides red ink, for he never wrote anything good on anyone's work. Unless they were Slytherins maybe. But Harry wasn't friendly with any Slytherins to ask about their grades.

"No."

"No what, Potter? Have you forgotten already? You will address me as 'sir' at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," replied Harry, but he gave the man a defiant glare even as he said it. Snape was bound to notice that Harry wasn't really using the title as a term of respect at all. Harry was just so confused and angry. What on earth was he doing spending his evenings kneeling in front of Snape's desk? Why did he keep coming back?

Harry didn't understand it, why did the man want him kneeling on the floor? And why was it that now when Harry himself entered the room, he knelt down even before he was asked? It was bothering him in an indefinable way, especially since the night before Snape hadn't given him his detention but sent him back to his dormitory when Harry had knocked on the office door. He missed it, he missed kneeling on the man's floor while Snape worked, sore legs and all. That was something he tried not to think of too deeply.

"Please, sir, may I move?" asked Harry, his knees were sending little pains through his body and he thought that maybe if he could just move to a smoother part of the floor he would be able to hold his position for longer.

Snape scrawled something on a piece of parchment and looked at him. "No you may not. Perhaps it will teach you next time to choose your position more carefully."

"Sorry, sir," said Harry, hanging his head to hide the tears that threatened. He didn't understand why he wanted to cry, his knees weren't that sore, but Snape's blatant disregard for his discomfort was almost more than he could bear. He couldn't cry here, not where Snape could see and berate him for it. Harry swallowed down his distress, he'd had plenty of practice at that after all and didn't move for the next hour until Snape stalked over to him, tilted up his chin and said, "You are dismissed."

Harry cried himself to sleep that night, muffling his sobs into his pillow so the others wouldn't hear.

***

Well, Snape was right about something at least. For the next three days during his evening detentions, Harry made sure to look before he sank to his knees and placed himself on a smooth part of the floor. On the fourth night, Snape was not grading essays. He just stared at Harry the whole two hours, and Harry felt himself flush under the scrutiny. No-one had ever looked at him so intently before and he wasn't sure he wanted to be the centre of so much attention.

His heart was beating very fast and his hands were clammy, he wanted to wipe them on his robes but he couldn't move, knowing Snape would never allow it. In this room, he had to obey Snape's rules, even if Harry didn't quite know what the rules were yet. His mouth was dry, but he never uttered a sound, not even to request a drink of water. Was it some sort of test? Some way of training him to defeat Voldemort? To see how still he could be? How silent? But if that was the case, why hadn't Snape told him? Was it something else?

After the silence of the hours spent on his knees, when Snape spoke, it was almost a shock. "You are dismissed."

Even more of a shock was the fact that Harry didn't want to leave.

Part 4

"Not another detention, Harry!" scolded Hermione. "What have you done this time?" she fluffed up her scrambled eggs before taking another bite. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend and he was supposed to be going with Ron and Hermione, but Snape had other plans for him. Plans that probably involved sore knees again, so why was Harry so eager to comply?

"Nothing!" he protested, angry that his friend would immediately jump to the conclusion that Harry had been making trouble. If anything he was a lot better behaved than he had been last term, with no Umbridge treating him unfairly, he'd been a measure of calm. At least he thought so. Their new Defence teacher, Professor Allen was very shy, but competent in the subject he taught. Maybe this time they'd be able to keep one for longer than a year.

Harry hadn't told anyone else about what he'd seen in Snape's pensieve, or even that he'd looked in it. He could almost imagine Hermione's grim disapproval. You looked in his pensieve? Harry, I can't believe you violated the man's privacy like that! Ron of course would want to know all the gory details of what he'd seen and Harry couldn't tell either of them what he'd done in order to merit all these punishments.

The more time he spent in Snape's office, the more he realised that he'd done something really terrible and he deserved, no, he wanted to be punished for it. It wasn't Snape who had got Sirius killed. No the blame for that was squarely at Harry's door, even if no-one ever said it out loud to him. Everyone was walking on eggshells around him as if Harry was going to snap in two at any moment. And sometimes Harry himself felt it was more than likely.

It was Harry's fault for not trying harder at his Occlumency lessons. It was Harry's fault for not being able to close his mind to the Dark Lord. It was Harry's fault for not understanding the difference between a real vision and a false one. It was Harry who looked into the man's pensieve, although he thought he had good reason at the time. But no-one forced him to look, that was all his own decision. Harry had betrayed the man's trust, how would Harry have felt if Snape had looked into all of his personal memories? Harry knew he'd be angry too, he was just surprised at the form Snape's punishment was taking.

"Hermione, last term I did something that I wasn't supposed to and these detentions are my punishment, all right? Just be thankful we haven't lost points over it as well."

"What did you do?" Ron asked around through a mouthful of sausage.

"I can't say."

"What do you mean you can't say? Harry, it wasn't something illegal, was it? Was it because you'd used Dark magic at the Ministry?" asked Hermione, her hands fluttering around her tie.

"Look, you can't tell anyone about this, ever," insisted Harry in a low voice. "But - but I looked into Snape's pensieve when we had our Occlumency lessons. I'm not proud of it, Hermione so there's no need to look like that. It was wrong, I know it and I'm having these detentions because of it."

"Well, that's good, Harry. I'm glad to see you're at least taking responsibilities for your actions," said Hermione primly.

"What did you see?" asked Ron.

"No, Ron. I will never tell anyone that, it's private."

"Since when have you cared about the greasy git's feelings?" huffed Ron, miffed at missing out on the gossip.

"Just leave it, Ron. All right? It's none of our business and I'm ashamed that I even looked in the first place."

Ron gaped at him, doing a very accurate impression of a landed trout.

"What, Ron?"

"Nothing, it's just you - you sound like you like Snape or something."

"Don't be ridiculous. I shouldn't have looked, no matter whose pensieve it was. It's got nothing to do with how I feel about Snape."

Ron nodded and tucked in to the remainder of his breakfast, but Hermione was giving Harry a very thoughtful look.

***

Harry ran into Filch on his way down to the dungeons, holding Mrs. Norris to his chest like a baby. "You're out of bounds, Potter," growled Filch. "Only Slytherins allowed in this corridor unless it's for class. No class on Saturdays." Good grief, the man was filthy and he stank of stale sweat and other odours Harry didn't want to identify too closely. Didn't the man ever bathe?

"I’ve got detention with Professor Snape," sighed Harry, he just hadn't got the energy to trade insults with Filch today.

"You'd better get going then, hadn't you?" Filch gave him a pleased smirk as he wandered off, cooing nonsense words to his ugly cat. Harry shuddered as he made his way to the Potions office. He hated that cat. The door was wide open, but Snape was nowhere in sight. Harry knocked, wondering if he should go in without permission and start his detention, he knew what he was supposed to be doing anyway. They were all the same, as Snape had already informed him.

He knocked again and went in, since Snape did not emerge to let him in. Harry took a look at the floor, trying to judge the most comfortable position and sank to his knees, his robes pooling around him on the floor. There wasn't much to see besides Snape's desk, as he could not turn his head to look at anything else and whichever place he happened to fall to, he was always directly in front of Snape's desk. Snape wasn't there, but there was something sitting on Snape's desk that Harry had never seen before.

Instead of the usual parchment, quills and ink that usually decorated the man's desk, there was only one item on it today. A cane, the paleness of the wood a stark contrast to the dark mahogany desk and Harry felt himself flush. Whether it was from fear or desire, he never quite knew, but there was no mistaking the twitch in his groin. Harry kept his hands firmly by his side, as per orders.

He'd never been caned, Vernon had always used a belt on him, so it wasn't as if he'd never known physical punishment before, but corporeal punishment had been banned in Muggle schools for quite a few years and Harry had never given it much thought until now. Was it still permitted at Hogwarts? Would Snape use that cane on him as part of his detentions? Would it hurt more than a belt? For it had always hurt when Vernon beat him with the belt and it had never been arousing.

It hadn't happened for quite a few years now, but Harry could almost imagine he felt the sting on his backside and the tops of his thighs as the belt came down, again and again. He started trembling and tried to stop himself. Shaking wasn't being still and Harry just felt that even though Snape was not in the room, he would somehow know if Harry wasn't doing his detention properly.

Harry didn't know how long he knelt there before Snape finally entered the office. Harry could hear the man behind him, but he didn't dare look round. "Do you know what day it is, Potter?" the Potions master asked him, close to his ear, his voice like a caress and Harry forced himself not to lean back and into the body behind him. He could smell Snape, a lot different than the odours coming from Filch, that was for sure. Snape smelled of apples and freshly mown grass, Harry couldn't help the small intake of breath through his nose to hold the scent to him as long as possible.

"Um, Saturday, sir."

"Correct, but that is not what I meant. This is your final detention, Potter. On Monday evening I will schedule our first Occlumency lesson for this term."

What? It couldn't have been three weeks already, could it? The time had seemed to fly so quickly. Harry was getting used to these detentions, dare he even think it, he was enjoying them? Just kneeling on Snape's floor, no words, no-one asking if he was all right every ten minutes, no watching Ron and Hermione bickering then making up and snogging in full view of everyone else. No having to pretend to be all right because he knew everyone was watching his every move. Snape watched him too, but Harry knew it was different.

"What do you say to that, Potter?" said Snape, walking round and standing in front of Harry. Harry did not even move his head up to meet the man's gaze, he was as still as a statue, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed the only movement.

"S- sir, I don't deserve it," Harry whispered brokenly. "I - I need to be punished more, sir."

"Are you questioning my judgement in this matter, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir. No, but I do think I need to be punished more."

"You think so, Mr. Potter? Very well then. On Monday night, you will have one hour of punishment and one hour of Occlumency. As before, you will tell anyone who asks that you are taking remedial Potions. I suggest you mess up a few of your potions in class to make the story more believable, your work there has been rather adequate of late. Monday and Thursday evenings will be devoted to your Occlumency and to your punishments."

Adequate? Did Snape just compliment him? On Potions? Harry felt as if he could just fly out of the room.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, still not looking up at his teacher.

"Very well, you are dismissed. No doubt you can catch up with your friends in Hogsmeade."

"Please, sir, may I stay for little while longer?" Harry stared at the floor.

"Am I understanding you correctly, Potter? You want to remain here on your knees in the dungeons with me, rather than go to Hogsmeade and find your friends?" The man sounded shocked.

"Yes, sir, please."

"Very well, Potter. You may remain until lunch time, if you wish it." With that, Snape removed a book from one of the shelves and settled down by his desk to read.

The whole time Harry was there, his eyes wandered again and again to the cane sitting innocently on Snape's desk.

Harry couldn't stop wondering how it would feel.

***

Severus watched Potter every so often out of the corner of his eyes, he knew what the boy was looking at. The cane, sitting there in full view, but Severus made no move to touch it. He never would.

Not until the boy asked for it himself. Snape grinned.

They always asked in the end.

Part 5



"What do you mean you're not going to the Quidditch match?" asked Hermione, hands on her hips as she glared at Harry in the common room. Ron and the other Gryffindor Quidditch team members had already made their way to the changing rooms. He and Hermione were the only two left, everyone else was already at the stands. Umbridge's ban was still in force and Harry was still not allowed to play. "Ron will be so disappointed if you don't go, Harry."

"I just don't feel like it, okay?" he said, turning back to his Transfiguration essay.

"You don't feel like much these days, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just - I don't know, Harry. You seem different, you're not acting like yourself. I don't think these Occlumency lessons are agreeing with you."

"What would any of you know?" snapped Harry. "Do any of you really know me? Or is all you can see this stupid scar on my forehead? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived? Snape knows me. He's the only one who does."

"Harry, that isn't true. We're your friends," Hermione protested. "And - and I think you're spending too much time with Professor Snape."

"What? Hermione, you were the one who wanted me to go back and beg him to give me Occlumency lessons again."

"Well, I was wrong. The past few weeks since you've been having the lessons, you've changed, Harry and not for the better."

Harry slammed his textbook on the table. "All right, all right. I'll go to the bloody stupid Quidditch match, but don't expect me to enjoy it." Why didn't any of them understand? He loved Quidditch, but he couldn't play it. Yet they expected him to sit there, happy to just be a spectator when all he wanted was to be up there on the broom himself. At Hermione's appalled look, he felt the hand of guilt squeeze his chest so tight that it was difficult to breathe. "God, Hermione. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me these days."

It was true, his emotions were all over the place. One day he would be as happy as he could be, laughing and joking with Hermione and Ron like they'd always done and the next he couldn't bear to be in anyone's company. Anyone's except Snape's and if truth be told, he was a little worried about it himself. Why did he feel this sudden attachment to Snape of all people? It couldn't be normal, could it?

Harry knew that it had been some time since he'd felt his usual hatred and antagonism for the man, he wasn't sure
when the change had occurred exactly, but he thought it had been before they started on Occlumency.

"I think you're stressed, Harry," said Hermione. "You need to relax more. You're doing so much, what with the Occlumency on top of your normal classes, it's bound to take it out of you."

"That's no excuse to take it out on you and Ron, though," said Harry.

"Harry, I think I know what you're doing. It's because of Sirius, isn't it? You're trying to distance yourself from everyone because you think you might lose them too, aren't you?"

Harry turned in his chair, trying to hide that he was crying. "I still m- miss him, Hermione, I miss him so m- much," sobbed Harry. "If a - anything happened to you or Ron I don't think I - I could b - bear it."

Hermione knelt down in front of him and wrapped her arms around him in an awkward hug. "Ssh, Harry. It's okay, you're allowed to miss him, but please don't push us away just because you think you might lose us too. We want to help you, Harry. Please let us."

Harry cried, his tears staining the neck of Hermione's robes, but she didn't seem to mind. He clung to her like a shipwreck survivor might cling to passing log and he felt a little better after he'd cried himself out. Hermione handed him a clean, lace edged handkerchief with HG embroidered on the corner once he'd finished crying. Harry tried to hand it back, but she insisted he keep it.

"Is that why you're spending time with Snape, Harry? Because you think you wouldn't miss him so much if he was gone? That he's safe to be friends with?"

Harry stared at her, he hadn't really given it much thought until now, but he knew that if something did happen to Snape, he would miss him as much as he would miss Hermione and Ron.

***

Harry was glad he went to the Quidditch match in the end. He was caught up in the excitement of his fellow Gryffindors and only felt a little pang that he wasn't the one chasing the Snitch. Ginny remained as Seeker, although not as good as Harry, she could hold her own and managed to catch the Snitch right out from under David Parson's nose, the seventh year Ravenclaw Seeker.

The cheers from the Gryffindor supporters surrounding them were deafening and Harry's throat was raw from his own shouting. Gryffindor had won by two hundred points to one hundred and twenty. The first Quidditch match of the season and already they were looking good for the Quidditch Cup.

"Thanks, Hermione, for making me go," Harry grinned at her. "I think I needed that."

"You sure did," said Hermione, giving him a quick hug. "I want to go and see Ron to congratulate him! Did you see those saves? He's really getting better at this, isn't he?"

"He is," agreed Harry.

"Coming?"

"You go on, I'll catch up with him later," Harry gave her a knowing wink. He was feeling very generous today and knew that the two of them would probably like some private celebrating time of their own.

"Thanks, Harry. You're an angel," Hermione gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing down the stairs of the stands. Harry sat there for a while as all the stands emptied of spectators, just enjoying the silence. Sometimes he just liked to be on his own. He knew the common room would be full of noisy celebrations and he didn't want to face that quite yet.

Madam Hooch waved to him as she collected up the Quidditch equipment. She disappeared beneath the stands, returning a few minutes later mounted on a broom and flew up to where Harry was sitting, she landed on the front of the stands and sat down beside him.

"Do you miss it?" she asked him.

"Yeah," replied Harry, his throat tight.

"Thought so," said Madam Hooch and she accio'd a broom to her and held it out to Harry. "I also thought you might like this back."

It was Harry's Firebolt, the one Sirius had given him and he quickly blinked back tears. "But Madam Hooch I'm still banned."

"You're banned from playing Quidditch, Harry, not from flying. Umbridge should have worded her decrees better, shouldn't she? One lap round the pitch for old times' sake, what do you say, Harry?"

"Thank you, I'd like that," said Harry. Madam Hooch got up and mounted her broom, zooming away. Harry stood up and stepped up to the front of the stand. It happened so quickly, one second he was about to mount his broom and the next the floor of the stand had collapsed beneath him and he fell right through, screaming in pain and terror, the he could hear and feel his bones breaking as he fell through the struts.

Harry was too shocked to even try a spell, Madam Hooch cast a levitation charm on him just as he was inches from the ground and she hurried over to him as Harry just lay there, trapped between the supporting struts of the stands and the flying instructor's spell. The spell had done nothing except stop his descent, he was still in pain, still screaming when the woman reached him.

Harry couldn't see what was wrong with his legs and hips, but he could feel the pain. He tried to move his head, but it wouldn't budge, the charm preventing him from moving any part of his body. He couldn't even talk.

"Harry, I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey, all right? You'll be fine, don't worry."

When she said that, it was all Harry could do.

***

"Thank you, Severus," said Poppy as she took the vials from Severus' hands and placed them on her store shelf. "If you do get some time, can you make some Dreamless Sleep as well? A lot of the first years are having nightmares at the moment and I'm running low."

Severus didn't doubt it, the reported Death Eater attacks were getting more and more frequent and it was more and more common that the casualties were related to those students still at Hogwarts. "Very well, Poppy. Anything else?"

"No, I think that's it for now. I wonder -"

"Poppy! Oh my God! Poppy, come quick, it's Harry!" screamed Madam Hooch as she came skidding to a halt in front of them, her flying robe billowed behind her like wings.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" asked Severus, his heart leaping into his throat. He followed the two of them without invitation as Hooch led them back to the Quidditch pitch. Potter was nowhere in sight, but a broken broom lay on the ground beside one of the stands. "He wasn't flying?" Severus demanded.

"No," snapped Hooch, "I was going to race him around the pitch, but when he stood up, the floor just collapsed beneath him."

"What do you mean?" asked Poppy. "He fell from the stands?" They all looked up at the pennants fluttering in the heights and shuddered.

"I managed to cast a levitation spell on him before he hit the ground, but he was already injured by that time. The struts," said Hooch as she cast aside the lower curtain and they all went inside. It was not a pretty sight, Harry's limbs were twisted, both by the spell and the wood. His legs were at an awkward angle and on the left one, his robes had been ripped, as had the skin beneath, blood trickling from a large gash near his knee. A shard of bone was sticking out through his left shin.

"Was he unconscious when you left him?" Poppy demanded as she cast scanning charms over the boy's still form.

"No, he was lucid."

"Well, he's unconscious now," said Poppy. "Broken legs, broken arm, fractured pelvis. Thankfully his spine seems to be fine, but he's going to be in a lot of pain for a few days while he heals. What happened, Rolanda? These stands are always checked for safety before every match."

"They are," agreed Madam Hooch. "I did it myself this afternoon, there was nothing wrong with this stand then."

"Could you have made a mistake?" asked Madam Pomfrey as she tended to Harry, splinting both his legs while he was still knocked out.

"It's possible, but if the stand was unsafe, why did it only break when Harry stood on it? There were hundreds of children who passed that same spot and nothing happened. Wouldn't it make more sense if there was the weight of more than one person on it? And Harry isn't exactly heavyweight material, is he? The poor boy's skin and bone." Hooch shivered as she caught a glimpse of Poppy trying to put the bone back into place, probably regretting her choice of words.

"Do you need me to help get him back to the infirmary?" asked Severus.

"No, we can manage, Severus, why?"

"I just thought I'd do a little investigating around here," said Severus. He left Potter in their tender care and made his way up to the top of the stands, going very carefully. The tower was a little wobbly after Harry's dive through the supports. Severus edged closer to the gap of wood at the front and waved his wand around. As he'd thought, it was a magical flaw in the wood, tied to Harry's magical signature. It would look fine and if anyone other than Harry walked past it, nothing would happen to them. But if Harry walked past, then the spell would activate and the flawed wood would collapse.

It was a trick Death Eaters had used in the last war to ambush Aurors and Snape's right hand curled around his left forearm. Surely there weren't Death Eaters in the school? They would never get past the wards, would they?

How else to explain the stand collapsing? For there was no doubt in Severus' mind as to what this was.

This was a deliberate attempt on Harry Potter's life.

Part Six



Harry had to stay in the infirmary for days, he was unconscious most of the time and when he wasn't, Madam Pomfrey dosed him with pain and calming potions. He was healing, but as the bones knitted together, it hurt. A lot. He was just glad they'd got to him in time. Madam Pomfrey had already told him that he was very lucky, even five more minutes and they might not have been able to heal him properly at all.

Ron and Hermione visited him when they weren't in class, although Hermione kept giving him his homework, he wasn't really feeling up to it, but Harry did it anyway, just to have something to pass the time. It wasn't his best work though and he didn't think he would be getting perfect grades on anything he'd written while laid up in the infirmary.

When Harry had been in the hospital wing for about a week, he found it hard to judge time dipping in and out of healing sleeps as he was, Dumbledore came to see him along with Professor Snape. They both looked very grave as Dumbledore sat down on the chair by Harry's bed. Snape stood behind it and Harry couldn't fathom the look that was in their eyes. Snape cast a strong silencing and warding charm round the bed. Harry sat up straighter, feeling his heart thud like a drum in his chest.

"Harry," began Dumbledore. "I know we've had our differences, but I hope you'll understand that what we are doing is for your own good. Your injuries, your fall, Harry. It wasn't an accident."

"Sir? You mean someone damaged the stand deliberately?"

"I'm afraid so, Harry," replied Dumbledore, patting Harry's knees through the bedclothes.

"That wasn't all, Potter. It was a trap, set for you."

"What? Someone at Hogwarts is trying to kill me?" The one place he thought he would be safe from that at least.

"It certainly seems that way," said Dumbledore. "Which is why I am appointing Professor Snape as your bodyguard as soon as you leave the infirmary. I know there has been some - tension between the two of you, but Harry, Professor Snape is the best man for the job and he has agreed to this duty. I'm hoping you will be gracious and accept his help."

"Will you be following me around all the time, Professor?" Harry asked of Snape.

"Not that you would notice, Potter, but I will be keeping an eye on you. You will be able to spend time with your friends, go to your classes and everything else as normal. The only difference is that you will no longer sleep in the Gryffindor dormitories."

Harry stared from one to the other. "The safest place for you at night, Harry, is in the cubiculum securus," said Dumbledore.

"The what, sir?"

"In essence a secret room, safe room if you will, Potter. You will spend your nights there as when you are asleep is also when you are most vulnerable to attack."

"The room itself is not actually part of Hogwarts," continued Dumbledore. "It hasn't been used in years, but it is always ready for occupation. No-one must know of your changed sleeping plans, Harry. You will go to bed as normal, wait until your friends are asleep and I will give you an emergency Portkey amulet which will take you directly to the safe room. It is keyed to you and only you, so if even if it falls into the wrong hands, no-one else will be able to use it."

"Shouldn't the others be protected as well?" asked Harry. "If there is a murderer on the loose?"

"Potter, they are after you and only you. The wood was charmed to recognise your magical signature and only yours. You are the only one who is danger right at this minute, but if I discover who was behind this..." Snape trailed off and clenched his hands into fists. Harry was shocked at how much the man seemed to be upset as to what had almost happened to him

"So - so, Professor Snape will be staying with me in the room?" Harry wondered why his tummy gave a little jolt at that news.

"Haven't you been listening, Potter? The headmaster assigned me the task of guarding you. Where else do you think I'd be? I have to be there in the unlikely event that the wards to the cubiculum securus are breached. Did you think I would be most able to protect you if I wasn't even there? You had better get used to it, Potter. You and I will be spending a lot of time together until the culprit is caught."

"Okay," said Harry quietly. He wasn't sure how he should be feeling at the moment. The pain from his injuries had mostly faded thanks to Madam Pomfrey's care and hefty doses of Calci-Mend to help the bones heal. He felt he should be more frightened that there was someone out there wanting to kill him, but he'd spent so long worrying about Voldemort trying to do him in that he'd gone way past anxiety about it long ago and was into what he could only describe as calm acceptance. He wasn't afraid to die.

Dumbledore rummaged in his robe pocket, removed a gold medallion hanging on a chain and handed it to Harry. There was an engraved eye in the middle of it and where the eyeball should have been there was a small emerald. "This amulet is only keyed to you, Harry. Whenever you press the emerald with a thumb or finger, you will be taken straight to the safe room and Professor Snape's amulet will give him a warning to let him know you've arrived there, if he isn't in the room already."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, placing the chain around his neck.

"Keep it safe, Potter," said Snape.

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, Harry, we'll let you get ready for class. Madam Pomfrey has informed me you're well enough to leave today," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he gave Harry the good news. Harry couldn't help smiling back. He spent enough time in the infirmary as it was.

Snape was giving Harry a strange look, but Harry couldn't fathom what it was. "Until tonight, then, Potter," said Snape, turning on his heel and walking away in a billow of robes.

***

Severus' amulet vibrated at ten past midnight, so he knew Potter had already gone to the cubiculum securus. He pressed the jewel on his own amulet and was deposited almost immediately into the room. It was quicker than a normal Portkey and there wasn't that same dizziness after travelling either.

The room itself was large, with pale pink carpet on the floor, pink and white flowered wallpaper on the walls and the largest four poster bed he'd ever seen. The hangings were white with small pink flowers embroidered on them and a large pink and white striped bedspread covered the bed. It would comfortably hold five, but only one would be using it tonight.

There were no windows, but a half open doorway led to a bathroom (thankfully decorated in mostly white with just a few pink accents, Severus didn't fancy bathing in a pink bath), where he could see Potter bent over the sink as he brushed his teeth. Severus tried to ignore the stirrings in his groin, but it was difficult, the brat looked so delectable bent over like that and he just wanted to pinch him.

Potter turned round and Severus was delighted to see the little jump he gave when he saw his teacher. "Professor! I didn't know you had arrived yet."

"Obviously," drawled Snape. "Tell me, are you naturally this oblivious all the time or do you have to work at it?"

The boy flushed in embarrassment at the insult but didn't retort. That certainly wasn't usual for a Potter. He stood hovering by the bed, getting even pinker than the vile carpeting. "Um, sir, there's only one bed."

"I'm well aware of that, Potter, but rest assured your virtue is in no danger from me," at least no tonight it isn't, "If you had bothered to explore your surroundings with the same zeal you give to travelling out of bounds, you would realise that there is a camp bed underneath the four poster. I will be sleeping on it."

"Oh," said Potter, just as the overly large pyjama top slipped to reveal a pale, milky shoulder. Severus wanted to lick it, the skin was just begging to be licked and sucked and bitten. Bruised too, he wondered how purple and yellow would look against the paleness of the boy's skin. Shaking his head to rid him of those thoughts, Severus bent down and retrieved the camp bed from underneath the four poster and erected it with a wave of his wand.

He removed his outer robe and transfigured it into a blanket. Potter tossed him two pillows from the large bed and Severus gaped at him in surprise. He was slightly discomfited by the gesture, that Potter cared even a little about his comfort was an unusual situation to say the least and certainly not something James Potter would ever have concerned himself over.

"Thank you, Potter," said Severus. The boy fell back on the bed, clutching his chest dramatically.

"I think I've just had a heart attack," he had the gall to grin at him. "I'm just recovering from the shock."

"What shock?" asked Severus as he made up his makeshift bed.

"You thanked me for something."

"I've thanked you before."

"No, sir, actually you haven't."

"Go to sleep," snapped Severus. They couldn't laugh and joke together, as if they were friends. That wasn't part of Dumbledore's plan but ever since Severus had seen Harry after his accident, he wasn't sure if he was the right person for the job. He hadn't told Dumbledore, he hadn't told anyone, but he was getting too attached to the boy and that did not bode well for Dumbledore's plan at all.

Potter climbed into bed, he looked dwarfed in the large bed and settled down under the covers, before casing a silencing charm.

"No silencing charms," said Snape, glaring at him. "I need to know if you have nightmares or visions from the Dark Lord. I need to hear everything if I am to do my job of guarding you properly."

"You don't need to hear everything," mumbled Harry and Snape turned away to hide his grin from view. Ah, the joys of being sixteen and slave to hormones.

Their enforced retreat was certainly going to be interesting.



Part Seven

Harry lay on the wide four poster bed, listening to Snape's light snoring. This felt a lot different to being in a dormitory with four other boys. This was a man in the room with him. A man who Harry was beginning to think of more than just his teacher, his protector. Harry often found himself staring at the man's lips, wondering how they would taste.

He watched Snape all the time now, in class, at meals, whenever he caught sight of him in the hall and always Harry would have the same reaction. He would flush and get hard, wanting nothing more than for the man to reach out and touch his cock. Not that that would ever happen, Snape had given him no indications that he thought of Harry as anything more than a student. Harry wanted to be more than a student. He wanted to be worth something to someone. He wanted to belong to someone. Snape. He wanted to belong to Snape. He wanted to curl up next to Snape in the giant four poster and feel the man's breath hot in his ear and along his neck, feel biting kisses all around his neck, like a necklace of bruises branding him as Snape's.

His one and only kiss with Cho Chang had been a disaster and he was in no hurry to repeat the experience, except maybe with Snape. He hadn't really given girls much thought since he'd been back at school, he never drooled over the pretty ones like Ron did, earning Ron glares from Hermione. Girls just didn't interest him like that, he realised now it was probably why things hadn't worked out with Cho. He just wasn't into girls. Owl the Prophet, Harry Potter was gay. He was just surprised it took him so long to figure it out.

He didn't quite know why Snape was engendering these feelings in him. Maybe it was because Snape was older, more experienced and might even teach Harry something, for Harry hadn't a clue. He had no knowledge or experience beyond his own right hand.

Harry didn't know when his feelings had started changing, he just knew they had and now more often than not, he wasn't suffering from nightmares at all but dreams of an entirely different sort. Dreams which featured the Potions master in a starring role and left Harry sticky and breathless when he woke up, the main reason why he'd tried to cast a silencing charm around the bed in the retreat. How was he supposed to explain to Snape if he called out the man's name in his sleep or something? Snape would probably hex him into next week and save the would be murderer the bother.

So far Harry had managed to block all of those memories and dreams away during their Occlumency lessons, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Snape accessed them. What on earth would he do then?

Harry glanced over at the sleeping man. Was he really asleep? Snape was facing him, the camp bed almost the same height of the four poster and he looked a lot younger sleeping, his face smooth and unlined.

It was their fifth night in the retreat and Harry was suffering a little from sexual frustration. He hadn't wanted to touch himself with the man right there, but his attempts in the shower the past few mornings had been thwarted by well meaning friends, wondering if he was all right after the attempt on his life and he had to hurry to get to class without even starting.

His cock was insistent, pressing up against the blankets and Harry knew from past experience that if he didn't take care of things now, then he ran a real risk of definitely having sticky sheets in the morning and he didn't want to have to face Snape after that. If he just wanked now, he could clean up with a spell and hopefully Snape would be none the wiser. Being sixteen was hell.

Harry removed his pyjama bottoms and turned over on his stomach, moving his head to the side so that he was facing the sleeping Snape. The man wasn't that close to him, the bed was so wide, but Harry could almost imagine that Snape's head was on the pillow next to him and Snape was kissing his neck, his ears. Harry stifled a groan as he thrust down against the mattress, loving the way his cock was trapped between the mattress and his stomach, the pressure on his cock a welcome relief. Harry gripped the pillow in his fists and his hips pumped faster and faster on the bed, he wanted to come so badly, worried that Snape might wake up before he'd finished and he needed this, God, he needed this.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed as his orgasm drew near, the vision of a sleeping Potions master shimmered behind his eyelids. Suddenly Harry was there, spurting his release onto the sheets beneath him, muffling his cries, "Sir! Sir!" in the pillow, tasting feathers and damp cotton. He lay there for a while, feeling too languid to move, not even caring about the wet patch beneath him until it began to grow cold and not very sexy.

Harry waved his wand and cast a cleaning charm over both himself and the bed, squinting with one eye to make sure Snape was still sleeping before pulling his pyjama trousers back up and grinning from ear to ear. It had felt good when he bit down on the pillow, he wondered how it would feel to be kissed as he came, would that make it even better?

He gave one last lingering look at his teacher before finally succumbing to sleep.

***

Potter was flushed as he settled himself on the bed the next night and Severus had to stamp down on the grin. No wonder, if that's what he got up to each night. For Severus had been far from sleep the night before, wondering what the boy would do if he thought Severus was asleep.

He didn't think Potter would risk masturbating right there in the room with him, he hadn't even gone to the bathroom, which had a lock. Severus hadn't seen much from beneath his lowered eyelids, just the steady rhythm as Potter humped the mattress, but oh the wonderful sounds he made as he came and the flush on his cheeks as he reached his peak, were enough to have Snape wanting to reach out and lick the sweat from the boy's skin.

Snape stretched, trying to get rid of the kinks in his back.

"Sir?" asked the boy.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Um, we can share the bed. It is big enough," he said.

"That would hardly be considered appropriate," said Severus, even though he had been hoping for an invitation.

"I won't tell anyone, sir. You can't be comfortable on that thing. It's too short for you, your legs dangle off the edge."

So he'd noticed, had he?

"If you're sure?" Severus asked again.

The boy nodded and pulled down the covers. Severus climbed in and cast a spell. "It's a shield barrier," he explained. "So we both stay on our own side of the bed." Dumbledore may have given him permission to dominate the boy, but he hadn't given permission to seduce him.

"Goodnight, sir," he said, turning over and seemed to fall asleep straightaway, much to Severus' disappointment. He'd been rather looking forward to the show and this time he was going to see if Potter would be interested in some audience participation. Severus was lying down propped on one elbow and just gazing at Harry's shoulder where the pyjama top had slipped again.

"Potter? Are you awake?" he asked.

No answer. Potter did truly seem to be asleep and Severus sighed in frustration, his cock pounding with blood beneath his nightshirt. Suddenly Potter moved to lie on his back, arching it like a human bridge and let out a moan that had Severus leaking in his underwear. "Snape! Oh, sir, Please!" the boy moaned again, his fists gripping the bedclothes beneath him in his fists. His knees were bent and there was a tell tale tent beneath the bedspread. Was he dreaming?

Harry turned again, this time clamping himself right round the Potion master's body, how on earth had he got through the shield barrier? Harry's leg twined itself with his and he began rubbing his erection along Severus' thigh and groaning loudly.

Severus knew the right thing to do would be to wake the boy up, but at that moment, he didn't care about the right thing, he was enjoying this too much. It was so wrong, so forbidden, but oh so delicious. An armful of squirming, aroused Harry Potter, even if he was asleep. In the end, he couldn't do it. Not like this, not with Potter asleep and not knowing what he was doing. "Potter, wake up," he whispered, giving the boy a slight shake.

"S- sir? What? What's going on?" gasped Potter, opening in his eyes to stare into Severus' face. He blushed as he tried to extricate himself and then his eyes widened when he realised the situation, the situation being that he was humping Severus' leg like a dog in heat. "Oh, sir, I'm sorry!"

"Hush, Potter. It's all right. You were sleeping and had a dream. Nothing to worry about."

"I didn't mean to." The boy flushed again and hung his head, Severus could still feel Potter's erection pressing into him as he was sure the boy could feel his.

"You were talking in your sleep," continued Snape, not releasing him quite yet. "You seem to have developed a fascination with me, Potter, did you realise that?"

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, shamefaced.

"Don't be. I find myself equally fascinated, as you may have gathered that isn't my wand digging into you."

Potter gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "The question is, do you want me to do anything about it?"

"Sir?"

"Students and faculty affairs while not banned are certainly frowned upon and you would have to keep it a secret, whatever might happen between us."

Potter was no longer making any move to escape from his arms and even seemed to shimmy a bit closer.

"You - you like me? Like that?" His green eyes were sparkling in the small lamp from the bedside table. He sounded so surprised, as if he had no idea of his own worth. And hadn't that been one of the problems he and Dumbledore had been trying to fix?

"I do, Harry, I do."

The boy gasped on hearing his name and much to Severus' surprise, Harry lifted his head and mashed his lips against his. It was awkward and clumsy, but certainly enthusiastic. After about five minutes or so, Severus pulled away and just looked at him.

"Harry, we don't have to rush things," he said quietly, his cock throbbing in protest. "We don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to."

"I don't know what I want," Harry said finally. "I've never - I've never," he waved his arms to encompass the both of them. "Can you just - can you just hold me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes, please," sighed Harry and snuggled closer, tucking his head underneath Severus' shoulder. "I've never been held like this before."

Below the sexual frustration that he was still feeling, Severus felt something else. Awe at how quickly Harry had grown to trust him, despite their past differences. Relief that Harry had finally seemed to think that he deserved more than being punished for things that were not his fault.

Severus just hoped that Harry never found out what Dumbledore had ordered him to do.


Part Eight

The first letter arrived on the third day after Harry and Snape had first shared the bed in the retreat. He couldn't think who would be sending him letters now, unless it was maybe Remus or Tonks. Harry hadn't heard from either of them since the fiasco at the Ministry and he wasn't sure anything they said could make him feel better about it. It was Harry's fault Sirius had died, maybe that's why they hadn't written before? They were still angry with him? Harry felt the need to suddenly be in Snape's office kneeling on the floor and he gripped the parchment firmly in his fist.

He didn't recognise the owl, a small tawny, he gave it a few owl treats before sending it on the way. Ron and Hermione were looking at him curiously as Harry made no move to open the letter.

"Who's it from, Harry?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, there's no return address."

"Well, open it then," suggested Hermione. "Then you'll know."

Harry shrugged, then slid his thumb underneath the flap to open it. The parchment inside had been folded and folded again until all that remained was a tiny square. Harry's hand shook as he unfolded it, he'd already guessed this wasn't from Remus or Tonks, they never folded letters like this, as if they were trying to hide what they'd written.

There were only a few words on the parchment, scrawled haphazardly across the page.

I know what you are.

It didn't make much sense to Harry, nor going by their confused faces, to Ron and Hermione. Harry glanced up just as Snape left the teachers' table after breakfast. "I have to go," said Harry, knowing instinctively that he should show the letter to Snape. He caught up with the man just as he was descending the stairs to the dungeons.

"Professor Snape, sir, can I talk to you?" asked Harry, following him down, even though Harry's first class was Herbology and outside, not in the dungeons.

"Is this about the letter you just received, Potter?"

"How did you - " But of course, the man was looking out for him after all, Harry really shouldn't have been surprised. "Yes, sir."

"Follow me," said Snape and led Harry into an empty classroom, not the Potions one. This one was covered in dust and cobwebs, looked like it hadn't been used for years. Snape locked and warded the door before holding his hand out. Harry placed the letter in his professor's proffered hand and waited patiently as the man scanned it with his wand.

"You have no idea who sent you this, Harry?" Snape asked, rubbing his chin.

"No, sir."

"They've been very clever, normally when you write, you leave behind a trace of your own magics, almost like Muggle fingerprints, but there is nothing on this letter at all to indicate who wrote it. Not one trace of their magical signature remains, they've hidden it or charmed it away. Do you mind if I keep this? I would like to perform some more spells on it to try and discover anything else."

"No, sir. Do you want the envelope as well?" asked Harry, holding it out.

"It might help, yes," said Snape, removing it from Harry's hand and putting both parchment and envelope in an inner robe pocket. "You'd better get to class." Snape leaned close to him and gave him a quick kiss. Harry's breath hitched, Snape had never initiated anything while they weren't in the retreat before. He wondered what it meant.

"Yes, sir," said Harry as he reluctantly headed towards the door.

"Potter," said Snape just as he turned the handle. "You did the right thing in coming to me."

Harry couldn't help the smile then as he hurried out, feeling as if he could float all the way to Greenhouse Three.

Praise from Snape was rare indeed, but that only made it even more special.

***

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, although Ron and Hermione did his best to pester him to try and find out who Harry thought had sent the letter. Harry had no idea and he had no idea what they meant either. I know what you are. Those words didn't seem to make much sense. What was Harry? A student? The Boy Who Lived? A teenager? And why did the thought of someone sitting down, writing those words and sending them to Harry send a shiver up his spine? They had no proof, but Harry guessed it might have been from the same person who had
set the trap for him at the Quidditch stands.

The whole school knew Harry was banned from Quidditch, but not from spectating, the culprit could be anyone and Harry was feeling slightly paranoid by the time dinner rolled around. He was just grateful that it was Thursday and he had an Occlumency lesson tonight with Snape, along with an hour's punishment. Just knowing that he could go to the man's office soon was calming him down.

Harry just toyed with the chicken pie on his plate cutting it up into smaller and smaller pieces, then mashing both pastry and filling together so it looked like wallpaper paste and decidedly unappetising. Hermione stopped him mutilating any more of his dinner by gripping his wrist firmly in her hand and giving him a pointed look, taking in all the other Gryffindors staring at him. Great, now they all thought he was crazy. Harry set his cutlery down and couldn't face another bite of food. He sipped at his pumpkin juice until it was ten to seven, then muttered to Ron and Hermione that he had to go to Remedial Potions. They were the only two who knew that he was studying Occlumency, but he hadn't told him about the punishments he still felt he wanted. He wasn't sure how his friends would react to that.

Harry had never been caned by Snape yet, even though he stared at it a lot. He was curious as to what it might feel like but he was a little frightened of the pain too. Snape had never touched the cane, but it always lay on his desk now whenever Harry arrived and he felt the time had come for him to ask for it. Maybe the physical pain would stop him thinking, for he was fed up of his thoughts going round and round in circles. Sirius, the Ministry, the attempt on his life and none of them were making much sense.

Snape was waiting by the door when Harry arrived at the man's office, his arms folded across his chest. His hair looked shinier and softer tonight and Harry had to clamp down on the urge to reach out and stroke it. That would probably get him hexed into next week. Harry followed the man in and sank to his knees in front of Snape's desk almost immediately. The cane was no longer on the desk. Snape sighed and sat down.

"Harry, we have to talk," he said and Harry felt his heart flutter like butterfly wings against his ribcage as the man spoke his given name. He loved it when the man called him Harry. "We have to talk about your punishments."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, not lifting his eyes from the floor.

"Harry, please, get up and sit down on the chair," said Snape, sounding exasperated.

Wobbling slightly, Harry got up and sat down, feeling strangely disappointed. Snape was no longer going to punish him like this, Harry had done something to offend him, he just knew it and Harry tried to swallow around the snitch that had suddenly taken up residence in his throat.

"Harry, why do you still feel the need to be punished? Your detention is over, I've already told you that and yet you still insist that you need to be punished, why?"

"I - I don't think," said Harry.

"You don't think what?"

"No, I mean, when I'm kneeling on the floor, I don't think about the things that are bothering me. I can only think of how hard the floor is or whether I'm hurting, but it's a good hurt because I know that it will end soon. Physical hurt always goes away in the end."

"And emotional hurt is more difficult to handle?" asked Snape, leaning forward and gazing steadily at Harry. "Why me, Harry? Why do you want me to be the one to give you this punishment?"

"Because - because I trust you," replied Harry, realising as he said it that it was true. Snape was the only person he could trust with the knowledge that he liked physical pain. "You would never really hurt me. You've always looked out for me, even when I didn't know about it."

"Is there a sexual component to you liking pain, Harry?"

Harry flushed. "Not - not at first," he admitted.

"And now?"

"Yes, I keep wondering what it would be like for you to hurt me. The thought of it - ar - arouses me."

"The thought of being hurt?" asked Snape.

"No, the thought of you hurting me." Harry wished the floor would open up and swallow him now, he was bracing himself to hear Snape's laughter about his fantasies, he already knew Snape liked him, but would he still like Harry knowing that he wanted to be hurt? There was a steady silence, the only thing Harry could hear was his blood pounding in his veins.

At long last, Snape spoke, his voice a register lower and Harry felt his groin stir. "Have you ever been caned before, Harry?"

"No, sir," Harry replied breathlessly. Was he going to do it? Was Snape actually going to do it?

"Then I don't think you're quite ready for that yet. Do you know what a submissive is, a pet?" asked Snape.

"Not really, sir," admitted Harry, although he had a feeling he was going to soon find out.

"You're half way there already, Harry. You feel the need to obey me, to kneel for me. Do you want me to control you? To dominate you sexually? Would you like to be at my whim? Would you like that, Harry? Would you?"

Harry had never been so hard in his life and his answer was whimpered. "Please, sir, yes, I want that." Even before Snape asked, Harry slid to the floor again and knelt with his head down, feeling hot and cold at once. Snape stood up and walked round to Harry, tilting his chin up with long pointed fingers. Harry could hardly bear the man's gaze, his eyes were just so intense.

"Harry, we are going to do this properly. Before we go any further, you must tell me your safe-word. If I ever do anything that you don't want or find too much to handle, say your safe-word and I will stop, do you understand? To be a pet, submissive, is not to give total power over to someone else. It is to feel safe enough to relinquish control and know that you are still in control yourself, through your safe-word."

"So if I don't like something, I say my word and you will stop?"

"Exactly, Harry. Your word should be something that you wouldn't normally cry out in the throes of passion."

Harry thought for a moment, he never really said much when he touched himself, as he always tried to be silent.

"Um, McGonagall?" he queried.

Snape smirked. "Indeed, that will do admirably, Harry. And now I think, it's time for your punishment. Stand up, Harry," commanded Snape and Harry obeyed at once. "Remove your outer robe and fold it neatly on the chair," instructed Snape. Harry did as he was bid, feeling a sense of nervous excitement build in the pit of his stomach and lower still.

He was left in his school uniform and stood in the middle of the floor. Snape pulled the armless chair from beside the desk and sat down on it. "Across my knees, Harry," said Snape and Harry just gaped at him for a few moments. "That will be one extra for disobeying a direct order. Would you care to make it more?"

Harry hurried across the floor and settled himself across Snape's lap, his feet and hands touching the floor, his glasses hanging precariously from his nose. "I could make some trite remark about this hurting me more than it hurts you, but we both know it would be a lie. This is supposed to hurt, it is a punishment after all," said Snape as he brought his hand down on Harry's cloth covered rump.

"Count them."

"O-one," gasped Harry, trying to ignore the burning in his backside. His clothes were protecting him a bit, but it still stung.

"That was for James," said Snape and Harry nodded mutely.

Another whack across his backside. "T- two."

"That was for Lily."

Smack! "T- t - three," Harry whimpered, Snape's hand like a brand across his arse. His cock was hardening, he could feel it pressing against Snape's thigh and he hoped the man hadn't noticed it.

"Do you want me to stop, Harry? Do you need to use your word?"

"N- no, sir, I'm all right."

"Very well, that was for Cedric."

Whack! "F- four," Harry gasped, blood rushing to his cock at the impact.

"That was for Sirius."

By the fifth slap he was crying and trying to breathe through the pain.

"That was for the pensieve."

His hand came down again and Harry wailed in pain. He didn't think he'd be able to sit down for a week after this.

"S- s- six," sobbed Harry, gripping Snape's lower legs, anything to distract himself from the stinging in his backside.

Snape's hand didn't fall for the seventh. "That one, that was for you, Harry," said Snape as he caressed Harry's sore bottom, the touch soothing now, not hurting and Harry cried even more. He didn't deserve to be soothed. It was his fault all those people had died and he sobbed harder against Snape's legs. His erection was long gone from the guilt flowing through his veins.

Snape lifted Harry up and sat him in the man's lap, being careful of Harry's sore cheeks. "Ssh, Harry, it's over now. You've been so good, such a good boy," said Snape as he wrapped his hands around Harry and pressed Harry's head to his shoulder. Harry's glasses were digging awkwardly into his face, but he didn't care.

"I- I'm not good," sobbed Harry. "I got them killed! I got all of them killed!"

"No, Harry, you didn't. None of this was your fault. It was Voldemort's fault and no-one else's. Don't let him do this to you."

Snape caressed his head, his neck, his back as Harry just cried and cried. He didn't feel awkward or embarrassed at weeping in the man's arms. It felt safe, comforting, especially after the spanking and Harry knew instinctively that Snape was not going to berate him for this.

"I'm your master now, Harry, you belong to me. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," Snape kissed his hair and Harry never wanted to leave the man's embrace.

It was the only place he'd ever felt safe.

Part Nine

Severus hissed in frustration as his latest spell caused the letter on his worktable to turn to ashes. Seven letters in three weeks and they were still no nearer to discovering the culprit, nor who had damaged the Quidditch stands. Three weeks in which he spent nearly every night comforting Harry after nightmares that left him shaking and barely coherent, he refused to talk about them, just snuggled up even closer to Severus and lay there all night, not sleeping for hours.

It was hard to see the change in Harry. From such an outgoing boy, he was getting more and more nervous, Severus saw him jump at the slightest thing and he was withdrawing into himself more and more, even Granger and Weasley were having no luck in drawing him out. He was getting paler and thinner by the day, the only colouring on his face were the purple shadows under his eyes.

Harry hardly ate and the other teachers were commentating that his written work was getting better and better but that his practical spell work left a lot to be desired, he just seemed to nervous or upset to cast spells and McGonagall had informed Severus that one day in Transfiguration, he bolted from the room in tears when Hermione Granger had turned a rabbit into a pair of slippers.

All Quidditch games had been cancelled until further notice, no-one wanted a repeat of what had almost happened to Harry and Severus had already had a visit from Draco Malfoy that morning, protesting the ban as unfair. "It's not as if Potter would have been a great loss anyway," the blonde boy said and Severus had to restrain himself from grabbing the boy by his robes and hurling him against the wall. He ordered Draco out, that he had work to do and the boy seemed glad to leave.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stave of his headache. He had never felt so out of control as he did when Draco had bad mouthed Harry, but then he had never felt like this about anyone else before. His previous lovers he could count on one hand, not counting the pets he'd trained for Voldemort. Harry was both more than a pet and more than a lover. He'd never felt the need to be constantly near someone, or this fierce protectiveness for someone before. He knew that if he discovered who had hurt his Harry, he would not be responsible for his actions. Harry belonged to him and him alone.

They hadn't yet progressed beyond kissing, but Severus knew it was only a matter of time before they did. He wouldn't rush things. Harry was still a virgin and he had no intention of scaring him away just because he couldn't be patient with him.

Since the spanking, Harry hadn't needed to kneel on the floor anymore, but he would do it if Severus asked him to, willing to obey any order Severus gave him. Harry seemed to be such a natural submissive, but Severus was finding it harder and harder to do anything that might hurt him. He seemed so fragile lately, with the killer and the letters and Severus realised he didn't want to do it anymore. Despite Dumbledore's orders, Severus had no desire to break him. He wanted to - he wanted to love him.

***

When Harry arrived at the retreat later that night, he saw that Snape had Transfigured the camp bed into a small table and chairs, set for two. There was a small mountain of food on the table.

"Sir?" asked Harry, staring at the multitude of dishes sitting on the table.

"Harry, unless we're playing our games, you may call me Severus in here rather than sir."

"Oh, oh thank you, Severus!" Harry smiled and wrapped the older man in a hug. He'd missed him all day, it being Sunday, so no classes or Occlumency lessons. Ron and Hermione had been gone all afternoon and Harry had been feeling more and more left out. "So what's with all the food?"

"Since you haven't been eating in the Great Hall, it's up to me to see that you eat."

"I- I'm not hungry." It was true, in fact Harry felt a little sick to his stomach at just the amount of food there.

"Harry, please, you've got to eat. You're skin and bone as it is. I won't let you starve yourself, I know you're scared and nervous, but I promise you we will catch whoever is doing this to you. Don't do their job for them. They're probably so happy that they've reduced you to not eating and terrified of your own shadow. Do you really want them to win?"

Harry shook his head but he couldn't help how he was feeling. He didn't like it, he didn't want to be scared of everything, he didn't want to jump at every sudden noise or feel as if he was about to burst into tears at any minute, it wasn't like him and he just wanted it to stop.

Snape sat down on one of the chairs and patted his lap. "Would you like me to feed you, Harry?"

Harry nodded eagerly and clambered into the man's lap, sitting sideways on. Snape began by feeding him slices of melon, the juice trickling down his chin, Snape deftly licked it off and Harry moaned. Oh, he liked eating like this, pity they couldn't do this in the Great Hall, he would probably eat a lot better. "More?" asked Snape, close to his mouth. Harry nodded, not sure whether he was replying to get more food or more licking.

Snape moved a forkful of tomato pasta to Harry's mouth and he swallowed it eagerly, eating didn't seem half so bad with Snape feeding him. After the first forkful, Snape kissed him hard and long on the mouth. "A kiss for every bite you eat," Snape said then. "Your reward."

After Harry had been rewarded twenty times, he just couldn't eat anymore. His cock was hard and straining against the crotch of his pyjamas and he just wanted to keep kissing. "More," said Harry breathlessly and Severus reached down to the plate again. Harry shook his head, "No, more kisses, please," he begged. "Please." He knew Severus loved it when he begged.

Severus' eyes darkened as he lowered his face to Harry's and Harry lost himself in the sensation that was kissing Severus. He could never get enough of the man's lips and tongue and he opened his mouth wide as they kissed and kissed. Harry could barely breathe but it didn't matter, all that mattered was the man's mouth on his, the scrape of stubble against his cheeks and the sweeping sensations low down in his belly.

Snape's hand moved, slipping beneath the pyjama top and he began toying with Harry's left nipple, making it stand in a little peak. Harry groaned and his hips bucked almost of their own accord, as if a string had connected his nipple directly with his cock and balls and he clutched Snape's waist for dear life. He'd never really thought of his nipples as sexy before. The hand moved lower, caressing his chest, the planes of his stomach and then hovered by the waistband of his pyjamas. Harry tensed a little, Snape must have sensed it for he stopped kissing him and stared at him.

"Harry? Are you okay? Do you want me to stop now?" Severus was breathing heavily and had two splotches of colour high on his cheekbones.

"I- I'm a little scared," he admitted. "But it feels good, please don't stop."

"Don't be scared, Harry. It's just going to be touching, I just want to make you feel good, okay?"

Harry nodded and leaned his head on Severus' shoulder, looking up at the man's face. "Can - can you keep kissing me?" he asked shyly.

"Whatever you want, Harry," smiled Severus as he leaned over and once more claimed Harry's mouth in a heated kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' waist again and tried to relax as Severus reached below his pyjamas and started fondling his prick. It felt different to how Harry touched himself, more intense, knowing that it was someone else doing it and he widened his legs so Severus' hand could get a better grip. As the stroking became faster and more frantic, so did their kisses, teeth clacking together, chest heaving with the effort as Harry writhed on the man's lap. He was dimly aware of something hard digging into his hip, but Harry was so far gone in his own pleasure that he didn't register what it was then.

Severus rubbed him faster and faster, spreading precome around the tip and Harry thrust his hips in a ragged rhythm, already he could feel a delicious ache low down in his belly and the base of his cock and in a few more strokes he was there, spilling himself in copious spurts over Severus' hands, biting Severus' lip in his ecstasy. His whole body was trembling as Severus continued to stroke and milk him, still holding him until Harry softened completely.

"Sorry," mumbled Harry, only now realising that it was Severus' erection that had been digging into him.

"What for?"

Harry reached out and caressed the man through his trousers. "I didn't take care of you. Do - do you want me to do that to you?"

"Not tonight, Harry. I just wanted to make you feel good, this was for you. I'll calm down in a minute," he smiled then and kissed Harry, just a soft brush of lips on lips, not to arouse this time, but to comfort.

"I was being selfish, wasn't I?" Harry asked from his perch snuggled beneath Severus' shoulder. He should have touched Severus too, shouldn't he? Isn't that what lovers did?

"No, Harry. You were just lost in the moment and it was gratifying to see it. To know that I could give you such pleasure. It was beautiful, just like you."

Harry blushed. "Thank you, no-one's ever called me beautiful before."

"Then they're blind. And now I think it's time for bed." Severus cast a cleaning charm on both of them, before standing up with Harry still in his arms and placing him tenderly on the bed. Once Severus was settled, he opened his arms in invitation and Harry scooted across the bed and cuddled up next to him. That night, Harry slept free from nightmares.

***

Just as the sixth year Gryffindors were coming out of Transfiguration the next day, the seventh year Ravenclaws were getting ready to go in, but David Parson, the seeker, stayed behind for a moment or two. "Harry, I wondered if I might have a word?"

Harry waved Ron and Hermione on, he thought David probably wanted to discuss the Quidditch ban with him, but he was unprepared for what the boy said next.

"So, Harry. The next Hogsmeade weekend is on Halloween and I wondered if you might like to go with me?"

Harry gaped at him. "Do - do you mean like a date?"

"Yes, you do like boys, don't you?" He didn't sound at all embarrassed to be discussing orientation right here in the corridor.

"Er, yes, but I'm sorry, David. I can't go with you, I'm already seeing someone." Severus would have a fit if anyone found out about them though, so Harry just hoped David wouldn't ask who he was seeing. It wasn't as if Harry could reveal it to anyone.

"Oh, okay then. Didn't hurt to ask though, did it?" He smiled then and made his way to class and Harry hurried off to Care of Magical Creatures. He wondered what Snape would say when he told him he'd just been asked on a date.

Harry smiled to himself. Maybe he'd get a spanking.

Part Ten


They had Potions just before lunch and Harry could barely concentrate on the lesson, so focused was he on the teacher. Every time he caught a glimpse of that dark eyed gaze upon him, he couldn't help remembering the night before, when Snape had fed him and the touching afterwards. He spent most of the lesson half hard and as red as a tomato, he was sure. Hermione thankfully didn't seem to notice anything amiss, probably putting Harry's distraction down to nerves at being in Snape's class, but she didn't know why Harry was so much more nervous now.

"Time is up," called Snape, striding round the room and glancing in everyone's cauldron. Harry had to tear his eyes away in case anyone noticed his new obsession. He had a collection of them now, watching Snape walk, watching Snape eat, watching Snape talk, watching Snape's eyes flutter closed as leaned in for a kiss...

"Mr. Potter," the voice of his fantasies dragged him out of his reverie. "Yet another dismal effort from you. See me after class." It was barely perceptible, but Harry saw the small wink his teacher gave him and his heart sped up.

"Yes, sir," he agreed readily as his heart seemed to jump from his chest to his throat. He didn't care if he missed all of lunch as long as he got to spend some time with Snape.

"Rotten luck, Harry," whispered Hermione as Snape left their table and headed towards Malfoy's. "I thought your potion was rather good today."

Harry could hear Snape singing Malfoy's praises, look at the exact shade of purple his spot shrinking solution was, the right consistency, the correct aroma. Malfoy earned twenty points for Slytherin and Harry bristled. He wasn't bothered about the points, he was bothered by the way Malfoy was smiling up at Snape, touching him on the arm and batting his perfect blonde eyelashes like a bloody girl. "It's because you're such a good teacher," simpered Malfoy and Harry felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut. How dare Malfoy touch Snape and suck up to him like that! He had no right, Snape was his!

The bell rang before Harry had to endure much more of Malfoy fawning over Snape, over his Severus.

"See you later," Hermione called as she left along with the rest of the class. Once everyone else was gone besides the two of them, Snape cast warding and silencing charms on the door. Harry hadn't moved from his desk, he had the feeling that Snape was about to make up for last night's tenderness and that he was in the presence of his master now.

"Stand up," Snape commanded as he walked round and stood in front of Harry's desk. The voice was cold, but his eyes radiated heat and Harry hastened to obey. He stumbled a little as he tried to get out of his chair. "Go and face the wall."

"Sir?" Harry was confused at the order and stood in the aisle between the other desks. Snape yanked Harry forward by his tie so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"Are you disobeying a direct order?" Snape hissed at him.

"No, sir, no," whispered Harry. Snape let go of his tie, Harry took a deep breath before heading to the wall and doing what he was told. He was unprepared for Snape to wrench his arms backwards and grip both of them with his fist. With his other hand, Snape pushed Harry's cheek harshly into the wall, Harry could feel grit from the stones embed themselves in his skin and he panted for breath. Snape leaned heavily on Harry's body, he could feel the man's very prominent erection on the small of his back and Harry bit back a whimper, both one of arousal and a small touch of fear.

"Do you think I wouldn't know?" asked Snape hoarsely. "That I wouldn't find out? You belong to me. Only to me, do you understand?"

Harry nodded slightly, his movement hampered by Snape holding him, he didn't think he could speak.

"You should have not been talking to that Ravenclaw," Snape continued as he pressed against Harry.

"How did you - "

"I did not give you permission to speak!" snarled Snape as he yanked Harry's head back and clamped his mouth around Harry's neck, sucking hard. Harry thought he might have fallen to the floor if the man hadn't been holding him up. "Do you feel that?" Snape pushed his erection firmly along Harry's back. "That's for you. Your punishment for flirting with Parson. You'll be on your knees," Snape paused, panting for breath, Harry could feel the air brushing along his neck and ear and he shivered with desire. Snape released his hands and stepped away from him, Harry couldn't stop the small whine of protest as the well muscled body was removed.

"Put your hands on the wall above your head, stretch as high as you can."

Harry had learned his lesson, he didn't question his master's orders, but obeyed them at once, stretching on his tip toes, with his palms flat on the dungeon wall. He rested his forehead on the wall, wondering what was going to happen. A spell from Snape removed his robes, then Snape's hands were on him again, fumbling with his belt and trouser fastenings and Harry moaned at the thought that soon he would feel Snape's hands on him again. Trousers loosened, Snape pulled down Harry's trousers and underwear in one fell swoop, leaving them bunched around Harry's ankles and shoes.

Harry could hear similar noises behind him and he turned his head to try and get a view of the man's cock, he hadn't seen it yet, but Snape forcefully put his head back on the wall. "Don't look or I'll stop," Snape warned.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, hoping that he wouldn't be in trouble for just agreeing to a command. Snape stepped closer to him again and Harry could feel the man's cock against the cleft in his arse, already sticky with precome and he so wanted to turn round and look, to see, to taste, but he knew he wasn't allowed to yet. Snape made no move to penetrate him, but he rubbed up and down along the cleft until Harry was practically climbing the walls. No-one had ever touched him there before, he had no idea it would feel so good. Snape's hands were on his waist, holding Harry where he wanted him. Harry didn't want to be anywhere else but here.

"You will be on your knees," said Snape again. "And you will take all of me in your mouth, even if it chokes you and you will," Snape's thrusts speeded up and Harry's own cock was dragged across the rough dungeon stone and he didn't want Snape to stop. Ever. "Swallow every mouthful! Ahh! Ahh!" Snape wailed as he came, spurting hotly over Harry's naked skin. The wet heat was enough to send Harry hurtling over the edge of his own orgasm and he spilled himself against the stone, some dripping onto the floor and his clothes. Harry's knees buckled, but Snape still had a firm grip in his waist and he didn't fall. "Oh, God," Harry moaned through the aftershocks. His legs felt like rubber and he wasn't sure he could move anywhere at the moment.

Snape knelt down on the floor and pulled Harry onto his lap, hugging him close and kissing him all over his face.

"All right, Harry?" he asked, concerned. Harry was sitting awkwardly in the man's lap, his clothes around his ankles, his come on the wall, his clothes and the floor, the air heavy with the scent of sex and he had never been better.

"Better than all right," he grinned, giving Snape a few kisses of his own. "What brought that on? You don't normally do anything when we're in school."

"I know, I just wanted to stake a claim on you after I heard you were being pursued. Oh," said Snape, glancing at Harry's neck. "I've bruised you, I hadn't meant to be so rough."

"It's okay," said Harry. "I'm fine Severus, I would have used my word if I wanted you to stop."

"I know, sometimes it scares me how out of control I get around you."

"Severus, you do know I'm not interested in David Parson, right? I didn't encourage him." For that seemingly was what the punishment had been about, hadn't it?

"I know, I just thought it was a good scenario, a reason for hurting you."

"You don't need a reason. Just do it when you feel like it."

"Harry - Harry, you don't want to be hurt all the time, do you? I don't think I can handle that." Severus kissed his nose. "I don't want you to be with me just because I hurt you. I hope, Harry. I hope there's more to this than that."

"I do too, Severus. I'm not with you because you hurt me, I'm with you because you can see me. The real me, I mean. Most people can't see past the scar on my forehead, but you've never subscribed to all that nonsense about the Boy Who Lived. You were the only one who ever treated me as normal and punished me when I deserved it, the other teachers let me get away with things just because of who I am or because I was grieving, but you never did. If I acted up in your class, I got detention or lines, it helped. You were treating me as if I was real, a person, not a prophecy. Yes, sometimes I enjoy being hurt, but not all the time. Just being held in your arms is good too. It's because it's you, Severus, not because I'm being hurt. It was always you."

Severus hugged him tight and kissed his hair.

"So tell me, how did you discourage your suitor?" asked Severus and Harry's tummy growled. "You'd better eat some lunch. You can tell me tonight, you're not getting out of your punishment that easily." Severus cast a cleaning charm over both of them and Harry's skin felt a little raw afterwards.

Harry stood up and put himself to rights, grinning at his lover as he donned his robes, for that's what they were now, wasn't it?

"Don't worry, Severus. I'll be on my knees for you tonight."

Part Eleven

That night was the first time Harry had needed to use his word. He'd been on the floor of their bedroom retreat, sucking on Severus' cock as though it was the most delicious lollipop in the world and Severus lost himself in the sensation of that hot wet heat engulfing him. He was in Harry's mouth and he could almost come just from that thought alone.

He bit back a moan as Harry licked the sensitive vein on the underside. Harry hadn't got him very far in his mouth at all, it was his first time doing it and his technique could only improve with time and with practice. Oh, yes, he intended to ensure Harry got lots of practice at this. He wanted to reach down and pet Harry's head, when he remembered this was supposed to be a punishment, not a reward and he growled down at the boy instead.

"You can do better than that. Take all of it in your mouth, boy," he ordered and was shocked when Harry spluttered, choked and removed his mouth altogether from his cock. "M- M-McGonagall," sobbed Harry, curling up in a ball by the foot of the bed and wrapping his hands around his head as though to protect it from blows.

Severus felt as if he'd just been doused in ice cold water, the shock was so great and his erection faded almost at once. He didn't know what he'd done to scare Harry, but there was no denying that's what was wrong with Harry now.

He knelt down and rubbed Harry's back. "Harry?" he asked softly, but Harry just whimpered and pulled away from him, tucking himself against the bed. "Harry? What did I do? Why did you need your word?"

Harry shook his head, unwilling or unable to tell him. Severus lay down and wrapped his arms around the crying boy and rocked him. "Ssh, Harry. It's all right. It's all right," he crooned over and over again until Harry fell asleep on the floor.

Severus put him to bed, then lay down beside him and nestled Harry against his chest. He hadn't meant to hurt Harry or scare him but if Harry didn't tell him what the problem was, then he risked doing it again.

That was something he tried not to think of too much.

***

"Tea, Severus?" asked Dumbledore as he conjured a pot, two cups, sugar bowl and a small jug of cream out of the air.

"No thank you, headmaster," replied Severus and Dumbledore banished the extra cup with a wave of his wand. He fixed his own tea, lots of cream with four sugars as Severus watched and winced. The man had a sweet tooth a mile long and Severus could almost feel his own teeth ache at just the thought of all that sugar.

"So, how is everything going?" asked Dumbledore as he sipped his tea. Translation, what is happening with you and Harry and how near are you to catching the culprit?

"Not too good, Albus," admitted Severus. "There is no trace of a magical signature anywhere on the letters and I thought we might be looking for a squib, but the magic used on the Quidditch stands could not have been performed by a squib of any sort. No, we're definitely looking for someone magical. Some of the owls used were from the school and some from the post office in Hogsmeade. I've already spoken to the Post Mistress there, but she doesn't remember everyone who's used their owls and no-one stood out as a stranger. It's someone from within the school, Albus, I'm almost certain of that."

"Not Death Eaters?" The headmaster glanced briefly at Severus' left forearm.

"No, I don't think so. This isn't their style. Whoever this is, I'm not sure they're trying to kill Harry outright. Oh, I think they have murder in mind eventually, but they want to terrorise him first. Want to see him suffer as much as possible beforehand."

"Torture?" gasped Dumbledore, setting his cup on the desk between them.

"Psychological torture. Letting Harry know that he's being watched, but that he doesn't know who it could be, so he suspects everyone."

"Does he? Suspect everyone, I mean."

"No, but I think it's only a matter of time before he does." And before I lose him, Severus thought sadly.

"So we are no nearer to a solution."

"No, Albus."

"Minerva has noticed Harry's absences from his bed, as have his friends, Severus. I think it might be time for Harry to return there. He can't stay in the retreat indefinitely."

"Why not, if it keeps him safe?" Severus had grown rather used to sharing a bed with Harry these past few weeks, his own bed would seem lonely without him. "He feels safe there, can you not let him have at least one place where he feels safe?"

"How would it look if the governors were to discover that Harry spent his nights with a professor?"

The words were said easily but Severus sensed their threat. Did Dumbledore know? Did he know what had happened between himself and Harry? What was still happening? He Occluded his mind at once, Dumbledore never waited for an invite before making himself an unwelcome guest in someone else's mind. He couldn't know, he was guessing, suspecting, that was all. At least Severus hoped it was.

"You were the one who suggested it," said Severus.

"Yes, yes, I did," he agreed, nodding. "But I'm afraid I may have been mistaken. Very mistaken. The two of you spending so much time together can only hinder our cause, Severus. You do remember what I requested of you?" Dumbledore's eyes were no longer twinkling, but cold like two chips of blue ice.

Requested, oh, Severus liked that. As if the headmaster had ever requested anything. His words may have been couched in flattery and soft terms but they both knew that the headmaster only ever gave orders and expected those orders to be obeyed without question or Severus would no longer remain under the protections at Hogwarts.

"I remember," the statement was the truth as far as it went. Severus did indeed remember what Dumbledore had ordered him to do, but what the headmaster didn't need to know was that Severus had long since stopped doing what the headmaster had wanted. He was no longer following Dumbledore's agenda, but his own and Harry's.

"And?"

"It is taking longer than I expected."

"You do know how important this is to the cause, don't you, Severus?"

"Of course, Albus, but I need more time."

"Very well," sighed the headmaster. "I will give both of you another week in the retreat, but after that I'm afraid you know what has to be done."

Severus tried not to show any thoughts on his face. A week! Harry would never be ready in a week, but by the looks on Dumbledore's face, he didn't particularly care. He was quite willing to sacrifice Harry to the cause. What the old coot hadn't reckoned on was that Severus wasn't.

***

Harry dreaded the arrival of the morning post owls now, always wondering if there was going to be a letter that day from his stalker. Halloween morning was no different, despite the decorations of pumpkins and live bats fluttering around the ceiling in the Great Hall. The letters didn't arrive every day, nor even every second day. There was no pattern, they arrived randomly and that made it worse as he couldn't even prepare himself.

His heart fell to somewhere near his shoes when Hedwig swept towards him, a large envelope in her beak. She slid gracefully to a halt beside his bowl of cornflakes (uneaten, growing soggier by the minute) and dropped the envelope in front of him. Harry recognised the untidy scrawl at once and bile rose in his throat. This was too much, now they were using his own owl to send the messages to him.

Hedwig lowered her head and hooted softly, wanting to be petted. Harry obliged, wondering at the last person who had maybe touched his owl, stroked her as if they were a friend, for that was the only way Hedwig would have delivered letters from someone other than Harry.

Harry glanced up to find Snape staring steadily at him and looking pointedly at the envelope.

"Harry? Aren't you going to open it?" asked Hermione as she sprinkled some sugar on her porridge.

Harry didn't want to open it. "What's the point? It's just the same old thing over and over again. I'm fed up reading the rubbish they send me."

"But there might be a clue," persisted Hermione, her hand hovering by it. "May I?"

"Go ahead, but I don't think it'll help," said Harry, turning to Ron and for a few moments they discussed the Quidditch ban and when they thought it might start up again.

"Oh fuck!" exclaimed Hermione, loud enough for the whole Hall to hear. Ron and Harry turned to her, surprised, Hermione didn't normally swear.

"Hermione what - ?" asked Harry and then he saw them, scattered on the table like the tattered remnants of his life.

He felt as if he wanted to puke, to cry, to faint, or maybe all three. His lungs were bursting with pain as he tried to breathe through the terror that had crushed his chest. There were photos, hundreds of them. All of him. Harry asleep in his bed at Gryffindor Tower, playing Quidditch, in lessons. Photos of the tasks at the Tri-Wizard tournament, flying on Buckbeak. Photos of his first ever Quidditch lesson with Oliver Wood when he first started school.

When he was eleven.

Harry stood up, swaying as he took in the images, blurring into a collage of his life at Hogwarts. He felt sick and shaky and just knew he was going to throw up there on the floor, there was now way of stopping it now. He sank to his knees and retched, bringing up what little breakfast he had, trying to avoid staining anyone's shoes, but he felt so awful by that point that he didn't really care if he did or not.

A few moments later, Ron and Hermione were beside him, Hermione rubbing his back as he three up twice more and Ron vanished the vomit as soon as it appeared. Ron handed him some minty sweets from his pocket and Harry took them gratefully. His mouth felt as if Hedwig had been using it for a nest.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, although what for he wasn't sure. He knew the whole school was staring at him, at the display he'd made of himself and he just wanted to run and hide somewhere. Somewhere with Snape.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Hermione, making no effort to remove her hand from his back.

"I think I'll go and have a lie down," he said, pushing himself to his feet, Ron and Hermione following. Ron stuffed the photos back in the envelope, grimacing as he did so.

"Aren't you coming with us to Hogsmeade?" she asked. "The fresh air will do you good."

"Do you want me to? I thought the two of you might, you know, want to be alone."

"Harry, of course we want you to!" exclaimed Ron with such enthusiasm that Harry suspected it was a lie.

"I don't want to be in the way," Harry protested.

"You won't be in the way. It'll help take your mind off things, won't it?" continued Ron.

"If you're sure?"

They both nodded frantically.

"Mr. Potter, a word please," said Snape as he arrived where they stood by the table. "Bring that with you," he pointed to the envelope.

"I'll meet you in half an hour or so," Harry said to his friends as he followed Snape out.

Snape led them to an empty classroom where he locked and warded the door and then wrapped his arms around Harry in a comforting hug. "Are you okay, Harry?" he asked gently as he stroked Harry's back.

"No, not really," he admitted. "I'm really scared, Severus. It wasn't a letter this time. It was photos."

"Photos?"

"Yes, photos of me. There were even photos of me when I'm asleep in my dorm. And - and, Severus - " Harry paused, he had no idea how to tell Severus the next part, unsure of the man's reaction.

"Go on, Harry, I'm not going to bite. Not unless you want me to," Severus glanced down at him with a grin. Harry returned it, feeling a lot better now that he was wrapped in his lover's arms.

"Some of them aren't recent. They go as far back as when I was eleven."

"Eleven?" gasped Snape. "You mean this has been going on for years? This stalking? But why have they only attempted to contact you now?"

"Because they know about us," said Harry. "You've read the letters. They called me Snape's little whore. in a few of them."

"They also called you Voldemort's, Hagrid's and the headmaster's if I'm not mistaken," replied Snape.

"Yes, but I think that was just to throw us off track. I think we might be able to find out who sent them."

"How, Harry? I've cast every reveal spell I know. They've hidden their magic too well."

"Yes, but what about fingerprints? Muggles use them to catch criminals sometimes, perhaps Mr. Weasley would know someone who could help?"

"Harry you're a genius! If they're pure blood, they might not have even considered that and not taken any care with removing them. This is worth a try, Harry. I'll get onto Arthur right away and get the ball rolling." Severus bent down and kissed Harry fiercely, as if he was drowning and Harry was air.

"I promise you, Harry, I won't let the sick fuck get away with hurting you."

Harry didn't doubt it for a second.

Part Twelve

It started to rain as the trio made their way to Hogsmeade so that by the time they arrived, the bottoms of their cloaks were soaked and mud splattered and their steps were little more than squelches in the mud covered ground. Ron and Hermione were a little way ahead of Harry, holding hands, their heads close together and giggling in that secret way between lovers. Harry's chest hurt at the sight. Severus had never held his hand like that, he never would while Harry was still a student. They'd never be able to be open about their relationship until Harry left school. They had to hide, as if it was something shameful and sordid.

To some people it might be, a teacher involved with a student, but Harry had never felt ashamed at anything he'd done with Severus. What upset him, what had him shivering in revulsion was the knowledge that someone was watching him, photographing him without his knowledge or consent. Watching him sleep was the worst. How close were they to him to take those photographs? Had they been close enough to touch him? Had they touched him while he slept? Without him knowing? The thoughts brought bile to his throat and he swallowed quickly, trying to dispel it before he threw up again. He didn't want to break down right here in the middle of Hogsmeade. Harry rested his hands on his thighs as he took a few deep breaths.

Ron and Hermione turned round when they realised Harry wasn't keeping up with them. "Where do you want to go, Harry?" asked Hermione as she wandered back to him and linked her arm through his. Harry tried to ignore the look on Ron's face as she did so. Great, not this again. When was Ron going to realise that Harry