Hope Has a Place
Part Five
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The next morning, it was as though nothing untoward had happened. Harry emerged from Snape's bedroom, wrapped up in one of Snape's dressing gowns. It was too big for him, Harry had rolled the sleeves up but hadn't done anything about the length. To Snape, Harry seemed like a child who'd been playing dress-up with his father's clothes. He quashed that thought. He didn't want reminding that he was old enough to be Harry's father.

A small table was set with breakfast, porridge, toast, tea, coffee and pumpkin juice, but Harry bypassed the table altogether and sat down on the sofa, hugging his knees with his hands. He barely looked at Snape.

"Harry? Do you remember what happened? Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," said Harry and then seemed to change his mind. "Did you - did you put me to bed?"

"Yes."

"Did you - did you do something to me?" His voice broke and then Snape realised what was worrying Harry. He thought that Snape might have taken advantage of him when he couldn't even fight back.

"Harry, no, I wouldn't! I put some salve on your burns, but that was all. You were unconscious, I would never have touched you like that."

"But Lupin did, didn't he? He really did that to me?"

"Yes, Harry. He did." Snape buttered a slice of toast and then set it back down on his plate. His appetite had fled. "Are you hungry?" he asked Harry instead. "You'll need your strength to open all your presents."

"Presents?" Harry glanced around the room, looking very bemused.

"Yes, I was innundated with owls at midnight last night. It's your birthday, isn't it?" he asked gently.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and lowered his head. He seemed to be finding the flagstone floor very fascinating. Snape didn't know what to do or what to say to comfort the lost boy on his sofa. He was not cut out for this, he caused pain, he didn't ease it.

Without any more urging from Snape, Harry got up from the sofa and sat down opposite Snape at the little table. "I like porridge," said Harry. "I never got to cook it though, none of them liked it."

"Help yourself," said Snape and watched in horror as Harry sprinkled not one, not two, but three spoonfuls of sugar on it. "Ugh, how can you eat that?"

"I like it sweet," said Harry and gave him a small smile, a smile that Snape was determined to see more often.

"There were some letters too," said Snape, handing him the envelopes. "Probably birthday cards."

"Probably," agreed Harry, round a mouhtful of porridge. He devoured it in a matter of minutes and ripped the first envelope open. "There's a letter from Ron too. He wants me to stay at the burrow the last week of the holidays."

Harry glanced up at Snape, from beneath lowered lashes. It was almost as if Harry was seeking Snape's permission, Snape's approval.

"And do you want to go and stay there?" For it would be a cold day in hell before Snape would make Harry do something he didn't want to. Not after what he'd been through.

"Would you mind if I did?"

"I have no objections, Harry. If you want to stay at the burrow, that's fine by me. I have staff meetings all that week anyway, so it's not as if we'd be seeing much of each other anyhow."

"Okay, I might go then." Harry poured himself a pumpkin juice and swirled it around the glass, just staring at it, not drinking it.

"Harry, I know this is probably very difficult for you, but I want you to know that if you do want to talk about what happened, I'm willing to listen. I'm sorry that I upset you by hitting Lupin, but I'm not sorry for hitting him, I can't say that and mean it." He needn't tell Harry why he punched Lupin, Harry didn't need to know what Lupin had said.

"I thought the memories were false, that you were lying to me. I couldn't imagine him doing that to me. I thought we were friends, you know? Yesterday, when I was in the bath, I couldn't stop remembering. I was begging and begging him to stop, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't stop. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear knowing that he'd done that to me, so I went away. I wish I could go away permanently, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much." Harry sobbed out the words as though his heart was breaking. Snape felt his own heart, that cold unfeeling organ he'd posessed for years, crack down the middle.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make this better for you."

Harry stared at him for a few moments, as if debating something with himself. "There is something," he said at last.

"Yes?"

"Can I - can I sit on your lap?"

"What?"

"Forget it, just forget it," said Harry, rising from the table and trying to run away.

"I was just surprised, that's all. I wasn't sure you wanted to be touched. You may sit in my lap if you wish." Snape pulled his chair out from beneath the table to give them more room. Harry stood nervously by his side for a minute or two, taking deep breaths, before sliding sideways onto Snape's legs and wrapping his arms round Snape's neck. Harry lay his head on Snape's shoulder and just sat there silently.

Snape brought his hands up and held Harry by the waist, but not moving his hands. He didn't want to worry Harry that this might become something other than a comforting touch. "Is this okay?" he asked Harry.

"Yes. It's nice," mumbled Harry to his shoulder. "I've never been held like this before. I feel - I feel safe."

Safe? Harry felt safe with him? An ex-Death Eater who used to torture and kill?

Harry's dressing gown slipped open and Snape was treated to a view of bare shins, knees and a small patch of smooth thigh. It would be so easy to lower his hand, trace a pattern on that tempting flesh, but Snape did nothing more than tighten his grip on Harry's waist. Harry breathed on his neck, little puffs of air against his skin and much to his horror, Snape felt himself grow hard at the contact, innocent though it had started out.

He shifted slightly, not wanting Harry to discover his condition, but Harry moved too and his thigh pressed against Snape's erection. Harry moved his head to look into Snape's eyes.

"You're hard," he whispered, stating the obvious.

"Sorry," mumbled Snape.

"No, it's okay," said Harry and before Snape could think, Harry's hand moved from his neck and was gripping him firmly between the legs. Snape gasped in surprise.

"Harry? What are you doing?" he pressed his hand to Harry's, stilling them both.

"I - I want to help you," explained Harry. "To thank you for letting me stay here."

Dear Merlin, this was worse than he thought.

"Harry, there are no conditions to you staying here. You're staying because I want you to. You don't have to do anything. I'm not expecting payment of any sort."

But Harry didn't seem to hear, or pretended not to. He managed to remove his hand from Snape's and once more delved between the Potion master's legs, trying in vain do undo the many buttons on Snape's trousers.

"Harry, stop it!" commanded Snape. "I don't want you to touch me, all right?"

Harry pulled his hand away as though it had been burned. He stood up, tears trickling down his cheeks, magnified by his glasses.

"You don't want me," he sniffled. "Because of what happened. You don't want to touch me becasue I'm dirty."

And in his heart, Snape knew that Harry believed every word of that.

"It isn't that at all, Harry. You're not dirty," sighed Snape, wondering how many times he would have to have this conversation before Harry believed it. If ever. "But you've just found out you were raped. Do you honestly believe you are ready for such an intimacy?"

Harry nodded his head. "Prove it," said Harry. "Prove you don't think I'm dirty. Why don't you fuck me?" his face flamed, two spots of colour on his cheeks.

How was he going to get through to Harry that he was nowhere near ready for sex yet? Talking didn't seem to be working.

"Very well," drawled Snape, standing up and stalking towards Harry. "The sofa is just about the right height, isn't it?"

"The - the sofa?" Ah, was that a flicker of fear? Time to press the advantage.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Just the right height for a fuck. Bend over." Snape slowly began to undo his trouser buttons.

Harry gaped at him, his eyes wide behind his glasses, blinking rapidly.

"That is what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"I - yes - I - I don't know. No," admitted Harry and sank down on the sofa, cradling his head in his hands. He was trembling and Snape could have kicked himself for being the cause of that fear.

Harry glanced up at him and peered over the rim of his glasses. "You stopped."

"You said 'no', Harry," replied Snape gently. "I will never take you against your will." And neither would anyone else ever again, not if Snape had a say in it.

"But you will take me? One day?" Snape wasn't sure whether or not Harry was horrifed or eager at that prospect.

"One day," agreed Snape. "And when that day comes, Harry. I will do nothing so banal as fuck you. I will never fuck you." He reached out and caressed Harry's hands.

"No? What will you do?"

"I will be staking my claim. You're mine."

Part Six