Hope Has a Place
Part Six
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You're mine.

Harry lay wide awake on his small camp bed at the burrow, thinking about those words. He'd been thinking about them a lot over the past few weeks, ever since Snape had uttered them in fact.

His heart swelled in his chest every time he thought of it. He belonged to Snape. Someone wanted him.

He still flushed with shame when he remembered how he'd tried to touch Snape that day, but Snape had turned down his advances and although his methods were probably not on any approved list of how to deal with rape victims, Harry was glad that Snape had done what he had.

Snape's methods may have been unorthodox, but Harry couldn't deny that they'd worked. Snape had to scare him in order to get Harry to realise that he was not ready, despite what Harry had been trying to do to Snape. But Snape hadn't sent him away and Harry had just spent the best three weeks of his life in the Potion master's company.

During the day, while Snape worked on his potions and lesson plans, Harry studied, finding himself wanting to do better in Potions to impress Snape. He never thought he'd see that day.

In the evenings, they played chess and talked about a lot of things and every lull in the conversation, Harry could hear those words in his head again. You're mine.

For the first time ever, he felt as though he belonged somewhere, just for himself.

Snape wasn't letting him stay because he wanted an unpaid servant, like the Dursleys had treated Harry.

Snape didn't care that he was the Boy Who Lived, that he was waiting on Harry to save them all, unlike Dumbledore.

Snape wanted nothing from him except his company, and maybe one day they could see where this friendship led.

Harry wanted it to be more than friendship, he knew he was falling for Snape, and falling bad. He'd dreamed about Snape's kisses, but even in his dreams, they never went further than that. Was his own mind even trying to protect him from anything that Harry might find too much?

He'd no idea how they would make love anyway, he glanced down at his disinterested groin in consternation. He was broken there, what if Snape didn't want someone who was broken? Ron snored loudly in the next bed and turned over. Harry made sure his friend was still asleep and then tugged down his pyjama bottoms to his ankles.

He'd never even tried to attempt touching himself before, knowing that nothing would happen. But he wanted to feel something. Something other than this fear that was coursing through his bloodstream whenever he remembered what Lupin had done. It was his body. He was allowed to touch himself, wasn't he?

Harry stroked his chest in lazy circles before moving lower and tracing a similar pattern on his stomach. He felt a bit tingly all over, but his prick remained stubbornly flaccid, nestling against his thigh. It didn't even feel as if it belonged to him, but was something other, outside of his body, his control. He gently stroked the length, trying to feel something, trying to coax it to hardness, but he was just getting frustrated. Nothing was happening down there and he yanked his pyjamas back up angrily.

Tears of rage and shame burned on his cheeks. "Goddamn you, Lupin for doing this to me!" he whispered hoarsely to the silence of the room.

***

The sun shone down as Harry watched the impromptu Quidditch match between Ron and his brother on the last day of their holiday. They'd tried to cajole him into joining in, but he wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to lie down on the grass in the meadow and watch them. Bees buzzed lazily, hopping from flower to flower and Harry was feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time. Content.

It was all so normal at the Burrow. Siblings squabbling, Molly shouting, but never really angry. She loved her children and Harry knew that he was counted as one of them now. When he'd accidentally spilt milk at breakfast Molly had castigated him and then looked shocked that she had spoken that way to a guest. Harry had just smiled, feeling like one of the family and not at all put out.

They would be back at shcool tomorrow and Harry was looking forward to it, to seeing Snape again. They hadn't received their timetables yet, so he didn't know when they'd have Potions. He wondered if he could visit Snape even if it wasn't a lesson? Would the man throw him out on his ear?

Harry grinned, imagining Snape's surprise if he did turn up to the dungeons one evening unannounced.

"Why are you smiling like an idiot?" asked Fred (or was it George?) as he threw the quaffle past Ron's head.

"No reason," said Harry, but he still couldn't stop smiling. He felt lighter than he had in days.

"Ohh," joined in Ron. "I think Harry's in love. You had that same face when you had a crush on Cho."

"So who's the lucky girl?" asked George and then winked. "Or is it a lucky fella?"

"None of your business," said Harry, standing up and brushing loose grass from his jeans.

"Oh, so there is something to know?" persisted Ron, lowering his broom and dismounting beside his friend.

"No, there isn't. There is nothing going on."

"Aw, come on, you can tell me. We're best mates, aren't we?"

Just then, Molly called them all in for dinner and Harry was saved the necessity of a reply.

"Oh, I forgot to get the wine glasses, the good ones. We're having company tonight," said Molly and headed for the kitchen.

"I'll help," said Harry before he even sat down. He always liked to feel that he was paying his way, even if it was only to help lift a few glasses down from the shelf. Molly had already told him that she never used magic around her delicate crockery, too many things could go wrong.

"Thank you, Harry dear," she said, pointing with her wand. "It's those crystal ones at the back. They were a wedding present from Arthur's parents, you know. And not one broken since."

"They're beautiful," said Harry as he lifted them down one by one and placed them gently on the counter next to the sink. "How many do you need?"

"I don't really want Fred and George drinking, but they're eighteen now, can't really stop them, can I? So we'd better bring five, just to be safe."

Harry guessed that two of the glasses would be for the twins, two for Molly and Arthur and one for the expected guest. His tummy fluttered a little, he was hoping that Snape had been invited for dinner, he sometimes was after Order meetings. Molly had seemingly been concerned that Snape never ate except at Hogwarts and was determined to change that.

"Can you bring them in to the dining room, Harry? I just have to check on the casserole a moment."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, looking daunted at the task before him. His hands trembled a little as he lifted them up, two in one hand and three on the other. It was nerve wracking carring the Weasley family heirlooms and he dreaded what would happen if the twins chose now to play one of their pranks on him.

But it wasn't the twins he needed to be worried about.

The glasses didn't fall, but Harry's magic flared, as uncontrollable as the time he blew up Aunt Marge and they shattered in his hands. Slivers of crystal embedded themselves in the flesh of his hands, but he barely felt it. Was only aware that he'd cut himself when he smelled the coppery tang of blood in the room. His legs had turned to water and it was as if all the air in the room had disappeared.

He would not faint. He would not faint. He would not faint.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Remus Lupin was sitting at the Weasleys' dining table.

He was smiling. As if they were still friends. As if the werewolf had never held Harry pinned against a desk and thrust into him, despite his protests. "Hello, Harry."

Harry turned and bolted from the room. He barely made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything he'd ever eaten. It felt as though he'd torn out his stomach lining. His throat was raw and even when his stomach was empty, he still couldn't stop retching, but nothing was coming up except bile and sour spittle.

"Harry, dear, are you all right?" came the concerned voice of Molly Weasley from the other side of the bathroom door.

"I'm not feeling too well. I don't think I'll be able to manage dinner." It helped that he had to vomit again and she heard him.

"All right, is there anything I can get you?"

"No, thank you. I'm just going to go and lie down for a while."

And by that time, Lupin would have left and Harry would never have to see him again.

***

"Albus! You cannot mean this!" Snape couldn't believe the man had even entertained the idea, never mind acted upon it. It was his final staff meeting before school started again and as usual, the headmaster had left it to the last minute to reveal to Snape which incompent he had hired to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"It's all been arranged, Severus. There's no need to get so upset. I thought it would be best. You know how difficult it is to get good candidates these days. I know you feel that job should be yours, but I really don't think you are the best one for it."

"This has nothing to do with professional jealousy, Albus!" Oh, if only it were that simple. Professional jealousy he could handle, he could handle anyone taking the job. Anyone other than him.

"This is mistake, Albus. I will not allow this to happen."

"Allow? Did you become headmaster in my stead, Severus? I believe that the hiring of staff falls under my duties, does it not? I expect both of you to work together as colleagues and put your personal differences aside," said Albus. It wasn't a request.

Snape glowered at him, but refused to answer. He could only think of Harry now.

How was he to tell Harry that the man who raped him had been appointed the new DADA teacher?

Part Seven