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“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Harry asked, frowning.
In the seat beside him, Snape was as stiff as a board, but he didn't seem to be very happy with the Headmaster, which really should have been Harry’s first clue that something was about to go disastrously wrong.
“Bond with Professor Snape,” Dumbledore repeated, smiling benignly. “I came upon this particular bond while in an old book, while searching for a solution to the current situation. It will allow for the sharing of magic between you, Harry, making you exponentially more powerful.”
“I…” Harry shook his head. “Did you even ask Professor Snape if he wanted to be bonded to me? Or did you just decide that this was going to happen, the actual participant’s feelings be damned?”
It was Dumbledore’s turn to frown, and even Snape shifted position, turning to glance at Harry.
“Harry, my boy, anything that can help you rid the world of Voldemort is a boon, surely?”
“It’s my responsibility to do that,” Harry pointed out. “And while I don’t think that I’ll be able to do it alone, I don’t believe that we should be asking that much of anyone. Besides, don’t these rituals usually require some kind of payment?”
“Well, yes, they do. All magic has a cost, Harry.”
“And it will be us paying the cost, won’t it? So, full and complete offence meant, Headmaster, but to sit there and tell us that we’re going to do this is quite ridiculous. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got Transfiguration next, and Professor McGonagall will flay me if I’m late.”
Harry stood up, and with a respectful nod to both of his Professors, he left the office.
Snape blinked, and then looked at the Headmaster.
“I think that we just watched Potter grow up, Albus. What on earth are you going to do, now that your little weapon has grown himself a backbone?”
…
“He wants you to bond with Snape?” Ron asked, aghast. “ Why?”
Harry pulled the book from his bag and flipped it open to the correct page, before he slid it across the table so that it was in front of Ron and Hermione.
“Problem Halved Ritual,” Hermione read out quietly. “I’ve never even heard of it.”
Harry remained silent while his friends read through the description of the ritual that Dumbledore had tried to order Harry and Snape into.
“Ew, you have to sleep with him,” Ron said, when he reached the bottom. “Every night, for at least four hours, you have to be in contact with him, skin to skin. That’s disgusting.”
“Yes,” Harry said, nodding his head. “I would also have to sleep with him in the biblical sense, since it requires a loss of virginity.”
Ron pulled a face. “Gross.”
“Has Professor Snape agreed to do it?” Hermione asked, looking pensive. She kept looking back down at the book, and then back up at Harry, who shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know. We were both called to the office, Dumbledore explained, and before Snape could say anything, I kinda lost my temper and told the Headmaster that he was being a jerk… except you know, not in so many words. And then I left. So I have no idea how Snape feels about it, but I can’t imagine that he’s very impressed with the idea.”
“No,” she agreed. “You really told the Headmaster off?”
“I told him that he was being ridiculous,” Harry admitted. “Which, to be honest, I still stand by now. Don’t you think that he’s asking too much of Snape with this? Especially since the Prophecy is on my head, not his?”
“You can’t do it alone though, Harry. We’ve been through this enough times.”
“I didn’t say that I could,” Harry replied, his tone softening. “I just don’t think that he should be asking things like this from people who don’t actually need to do the ‘vanquishing’, you know? If it was a ritual that I could do myself, I’d have been more polite about it. As it is… I’m not going to do this without Professor Snape’s enthusiastic consent.”
“The day that Snape is enthusiastic about anything aside from detentions and taking house points, is the day that You-Know-Who signs up for a poetry class, and denounces the Dark Arts,” Ron muttered darkly, though the sudden laughter from Harry and Hermione made him blush and then let out a chuckle of his own.
Eventually, Hermione shook her head and closed the book, biting her lips worriedly.
“I don’t know, Harry. I want… obviously, I’d love for you to have access to extra power, but this…” she glanced down at the book again. “This is asking a lot from both of you. Especially given your… history.”
Harry sighed, sliding the book back across the table and then put it away in his bag. “I agree. And really, if you were in Snape’s position… would you want to have sex with the seventeen year old virgin son of your worst high school bully?”
…
“Potter,” Snape said quietly, as he passed behind him under the pretence of checking cauldrons. “Stay after class.”
Harry nodded silently to show that he’d understood, and focused on decanting his potion into the vials he’d arranged at the end of his bench.
He’d done the best he could, and his potion looked… similar to what it should. A few shades lighter than the expected colour, but Harry thought that it should at least merit him an acceptable.
When he was finished, he packed his bag up, and then let it settle against his ankle as he sat back down on his stool. Ron pulled a face as he walked past him, squeezing his shoulder, while Hermione just looked worried.
Harry felt bad that that seemed like a permanent look for her lately; he knew that most of her worry was for him, and he hated that he was doing that to her.
What he wouldn’t give to just be a regular teenager, where the most he gave his friends to worry about was him losing them house points, or getting his heart broken.
When the room had emptied of the other students, and it was only Harry and Snape left, Snape closed and warded the door for privacy and then turned to look at Harry.
“You understand what the bond the Headmaster has asked us to do requires of you?”
Harry nodded silently. He’d poured over the book, both alone and with his friends, and he knew the ritual forwards and backwards. He’d wanted to make sure that, if they did do the thing, he would know everything that he should expect from it.
“I believe that the positives outweigh the negatives in this scenario, providing that you would consent to… relations between us,” Snape said, looking a little distasteful at the thought of it.
“I don’t consent,” Harry replied softly. When Snape opened his mouth to reply, Harry added. “Let me explain please?”
He waited until Snape nodded his head.
“I don’t want you to feel forced into a bond with someone that you hate—or even, uh, strongly dislike—because of this stupid war. The Prophecy is between Voldemort and myself. I don’t honestly believe that it could be legitimate, if I absolutely required the use of someone else’s power to fulfil it. I’m not trying to be arrogant, or even say that I can fulfil it, extra power or not, but… you’ve given up enough of your life to this cause , Sir.”
Snape seemed to be pondering his words, because he was silently thoughtful for a few moments, before he asked, “Your lack of consent is on my behalf, rather than your own?”
Harry nodded.
“Then you should know, Mr Potter, that what I agree to do is my own business, for my own reasons. In the way that you’ve made it very clear over the years that you despise people making decisions for you, you allow me the right to make my own decision now.”
“I understand that, sir,” Harry replied quietly. “But this is… it’s not just until he’s gone. If he’s gone, that is. Even if this works… you’ll be tying yourself to me forever. We may not have to share a bed anymore, but the bond will always remain. That’s… I can’t imagine that that’s something you would relish, given our history, and yours with my parents.”
“While the bond will remain,” Snape agreed, leaning back until he was perched on his desk, “it would remain inert, unless it was required again, which I cannot imagine happening. It’s a temporary situation for the most part, and one that is far more palatable than him running around unchecked for much longer.”
“Please don’t tell me that it’s for the ‘Greater Good’, sir,” Harry asked, looking away. “I’m tired of hearing it.”
“On your own behalf, do you consent to the ritual?”
Harry sighed deeply, and then looked back at Snape. “Yes.”
…
The ritual itself was relatively simple, and Snape did more of the preparation for it. Harry had already spoken to those who would notice his absence from the dorm.
He’d simply told them that he had been given his own room, since he spent so much time training outside of usual classes.
They’d all taken it with good grace; not a single one of them had complained about it being preferential treatment. Harry supposed that it was because none of his roommates envied his position as ‘The Chosen One’.
And it wasn’t a lie, really.
He had been given a room of his own, close to Professor Snape’s quarters, so as to keep the secret of the ritual. It wouldn’t do for it to be known that Harry was basically moving in with the Potion’s Master.
The whole point of the ritual was for Harry to have the element of surprise and power when he was ready to face Voldemort.
Readying himself in the white ceremonial robes that had been delivered via House-Elf, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He’d purposefully not given much thought to how he felt about losing his virginity in such a way.
He’d never had deep aspirations of saving himself for someone special, or anything, but he also hadn’t ever considered that he’d eventually lose it to someone who didn’t even like him, for the sake of a ritual.
Still, he supposed that it could have been worse. It could have been Dumbledore.
Shuddering at that stray thought, Harry wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself and slipped out of his new room. He walked down the corridor, and after making sure there was no one around, he pressed his wand to Snape’s door.
There was a split second pause, and the door opened, to allow him entry.
Harry closed the door behind himself and double checked that Snape was alone before he lifted the cloak off of him. He hung it up on the stand by the door.
“Hello, sir,” he greeted, watching as Snape lit the candles around the salt circle he’d created in the middle of the room.
Harry had suggested that they use the Room of Requirement for the main part of the ritual, but Snape had insisted that they do it in his own rooms. The Room of Requirement, while incredible, wasn’t completely secure.
Someone, with the right choice of words, could interrupt them.
“I believe that you should call me ‘Severus’ while in these rooms, Potter,” Snape said, not looking over at him. “It will, perhaps, help me feel less perverted about what we’re about to embark upon.”
“If you’re having second thoughts—”
“I’m not,” Snape interrupted. “That doesn’t change the fact that you are, in fact, my student, and under usual circumstances, the act that we must perform this evening would be… distasteful.”
Harry didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what he could actually say to that, since he agreed. Short of an end to Voldemort’s madness, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to sleep with any of his teachers either.
He waited silently for Snape—Severus, he reminded himself—to finish setting up the ritual, watching with curious eyes as the leaves of various plants were laid around the edges of the candles.
Harry knew that every placement had to be perfectly exact, but Snape—Severus—seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he moved with purpose.
“I can’t use magic to prepare you,” Severus said, when he finally stood up and away from the circle.
Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks at the implication, but he swallowed hard and nodded his head. He’d known that, after all. He’d considered preparing himself, but he hadn’t wanted to mess up the ritual.
“And I can’t ply you with alcohol either, as high as the urge to do so may be. Nor myself.”
Harry wasn’t sure how he should take that, so he remained silent, and simply nodded his understanding. He stepped forwards uncertainly, closing the gap between them a little.
“Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this?” Severus asked, his tone solemn. “This is your last chance to back out, and… Potter, I wouldn’t think less of you if you did.”
“I’m sure. Unless you’ve changed your mind? If it’ll make it easier to say that it was me that backed out, then I don’t—”
“I’m willing,” Severus said, shaking his head.
He held out his hand to Harry, who took another step and placed his own into Severus’ grasp. Severus tugged him closer, until they were practically chest to chest.
Harry tilted his head up, at the same time as Severus tilted his own down, and their lips met in a chaste kiss. Oddly, it seemed more intimate to Harry than the act that they were planning.
Kissing seemed more like something that he’d expect in a relationship, rather than the magical equivalent of a one night stand—they only had to have sex once to make the bond work, after all.
Letting Severus guide him, Harry was backed towards the circle. He was careful to step over the salt circle, lifting his robes to make sure that they didn’t disturb it, but that seemed to be all that he was capable of, beyond feeling.
Severus’ hands were on his waist, one of them pushed inside the robes so that it laid on the bare skin of Harry’s hip. Severus’ tongue teased against Harry’s lips until opened his mouth to allow him entrance.
He tasted like… mint, and coffee, and Harry chased the taste back into Severus’ mouth when his tongue retreated.
Around their feet, the candles flared to life, as Severus pushed the loose roves from Harry’s shoulders, until they pooled at his feet, leaving Harry bare to Severus’ eyes.
Harry tried to ignore the embarrassment, and to his credit, Severus didn’t pause kissing him to look at Harry’s naked body. With firm but gentle hands, he guided Harry until he was lying down on the floor, the soft rug beneath him pleasant on his skin.
“I invoke upon the spirits,” Severus murmured, as he ran a hand from Harry’s neck to his stomach. “Bond us in the Rite of the Problem Halved.”
He repeated the words three times, and then caught Harry’s lips with his own again.
Harry closed his eyes and let go of any doubts he might have still been harbouring. Despite his misgivings, Severus seemed to know what he was doing and it felt… different, but good.
Really good.
…
Harry woke up and immediately flailed in the bed that he instinctively knew wasn’t his own. He fished for his glasses and thankfully found them waiting for him on the bedside table closest to his head.
He shoved them on his face and then looked around. Despite it still being quite dark, he could make out Severus, fast asleep in the bed beside him. He looked impossibly peaceful, given what Harry had seen of him previously.
The memory of the night before flashed through Harry’s mind, and he felt himself flush.
Merlin.
He’d… he’d lost his virginity to his Potions Professor, and not only that, but the ritual seemed to have worked. When he thought about it, he could feel the bond stretching between them, almost like a thin piece of string connecting them from deep inside.
Harry sat up, the covers slipping down his chest to reveal that he was completely bare beneath them. He only had vague memories of going to bed, but he was fairly certain that Severus had carried him there, after he’d fallen into a doze in the middle of the circle of salt.
Still, it felt weird to be lying naked beside his Professor, with the morning light just barely peeking in through a tiny gap in the curtains. Wishing that he’d thought to bring something with him to change into, Harry climbed out of the bed and slipped into the bathroom.
He used the toilet, washed his hands, and then returned to the bedroom, where Severus was waking up, shifting on the bed restlessly. Harry continued through the bedroom to the living room, and found the white robe on the floor.
He slipped it on and belted it tight. He wanted to leave, but thought that it might be rude if he did so before Severus had even gotten out of bed.
He didn’t know what the etiquette was for a situation like this; if there even was one, given the rather odd circumstances.
Grimacing, he grabbed his invisibility cloak off the stand that he’d hung it on the night before, and then turned back towards the bedroom door. He slowly retraced his steps, and then, after another moment of hesitation, popped his head back through the doorway.
Severus was awake, and was sitting up against the headboard of the bed. He looked over at the door when he heard it open.
“I’m going to go and get ready for, uh, breakfast,” Harry murmured. I just didn’t want to, you know, leave without…”
Severus nodded at him, clearly filling in the unsaid part of the sentence for himself. “Be here at ten-thirty tonight.”
“I might be a little later than that,” Harry replied softly. “Kingsley is coming in after dinner to train with me, and he has no concept of time. I’ll try and be here as close to ten-thirty as I can, though.”
“Very well.”
“I… have a good day, Severus.”
…
“So, how was it?” Ron asked, and then blanched, shaking his head. “Nope. Absolutely not, do not answer that question, I don’t want to know the answer!”
Harry bit his lip, and then laughed anyway, while Hermione shook her head at Ron with exasperated fondness.
“Did it work?” Hermione asked instead, when Harry turned his attention back to his breakfast.
He wasn’t particularly hungry, but it seemed better to focus on that, than anything else.
“I… yeah. It did. I can. Uh. Feel it. It’s like a piece of, uh, stretchy string, I guess.”
She nodded, while Ron continued to look grossed out, though it clearly hadn’t been enough to put him off his food, as he dug into his sausage and eggs.
Harry, very much wanting a change of topic, asked, “Are you two planning to come to the session with Kingsley tonight. He said that you’re more than welcome.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up, and even Ron looked excited to be training with an Auror. Given that he wished to be one, should he get the marks he needed, Harry supposed that it wasn’t really surprising.
Harry himself hadn’t committed to being an Auror yet; he just wasn’t convinced that he wanted to fight for the rest of his life, if he had the chance to live past Voldemort.
But then, he usually ignored that he might even have a life to live. If he managed to do the seemingly-impossible, and rid the world of the snake-faced monster, then he would think about what he wanted to do, but until then, it just seemed… pointless.
“We’ve got charms in ten minutes,” Hermione said, checking her watch. “You two should hurry up and finish eating.”
Harry pushed his plate away, a little glad that he could be done with the pretence of eating. Complaining—and picking up another piece of toast to walk with—Ron followed suit.
If nothing else was for sure, Harry could at least always know that his friends had his back.
…
Despite having done it only the previous night, Harry felt odd to be sneaking into Severus’ quarters at just after eleven that night. He’d stopped by his own room to shower and change after the training session with Kingsley—in which he’d set Ron and Hermione on his own side, and left Harry to defend himself against the three of them—before once more donning his cloak, and creeping towards the Potions Master's room.
Pressing his wand to the door, Harry slipped inside when it opened and closed it behind himself. Again, he placed his cloak on the stand beside the door, and then took in the scene in front of him.
Gone was all evidence of the ritual circle. Instead, there was a fire burning in the grate, and Severus was sitting on the sofa, a book open on his lap, though he seemed to have abandoned it when Harry arrived.
He surveyed Harry for a few moments, and then said, “If you’d like to go to bed, you know where it is. I’ll be up for another hour or so, yet.”
Harry, having hoped for a little time to decompress before sleeping, asked, “Do you mind if I join you?”
Severus waved at the sofa beside himself, and then ducked his head slightly, as he returned his attention to his book. Harry sat down, a little stiff at first, unsure what to do with his limbs.
As Severus paid him absolutely no mind, he slowly sunk into the cushions of the sofa and stared into the fire, mentally going over the faux battle he’d had with Kingsley and his best friends.
He’d held up against the three of them fairly well; Kingsley had said as much. While it was easier with Ron and Hermione—given the training that Harry had had, they couldn’t quite keep up with him—Kingsley was always a challenge, and with his attention split, it was no surprise that Harry had eventually been overpowered.
Still though, he’d lasted longer than he’d expected he would, and he supposed that he should take that as the win that it was. He was improving, though it was admittedly slower than he would have preferred.
With Voldemort out there, every day more that it took for Harry to be ready, more people died.
So lost in thought, he didn’t realise that Severus had moved, and had put away all of his things, until there was a gentle nudge at his shoulder.
He blinked rapidly a few times, and then looked up at the tall man.
“Are you ready to retire for the evening?”
Harry nodded, and then stood up, stretching luxuriously. He followed Severus into the bedroom, and climbed into the bed, while Severus continued onto the bathroom.
Harry was already dozing by the time Severus joined him.
He stiffened slightly when the bed dipped, as he suddenly remembered that the two of them had to be touching—skin to skin for the ritual to work—through the night.
It was only when Severus reached out and wrapped his hand around Harry’s forearm that Harry relaxed into the touch. His vague notions of having to cuddle through the whole night disproved, it didn’t take him very long to fall asleep.
…
“—and then I need to go to Scrivenshafts,” Hermione said, as the three of them walked down the path from the school towards Hogsmeade.
Ron rolled his eyes. “I notice that you didn’t include Honeydukes in that list.”
Harry snorted. It was practically a given that they would be visiting the sweetshop while they were in the village; Ron considered it sacrilegious to miss the place out.
“Yes, yes, I know that you need your sugar fix,” she huffed out, shaking her head. “But can we at least attempt to buy the things that we actually need before you waste your money on more Chocolate Frogs?”
“I don’t need anything,” Ron argued.
“You need quills,” she pointed out. “Since the last two that you ruined were mine, because you ran out of them three weeks ago.”
Harry listened to the two of them bickering with a warm feeling in his chest. He’d been feeling the pressure a lot more, lately, but just this semblance of normality was enough to remind him of the smaller joys in life, like spending time doing nothing very important with his best friends.
As they reached the village, he waved at Neville, who was standing outside the sweetshop, and was about to suggest that they head to the furthest shop down and make their way back, when a loud crack sounded, followed by the screams of many students.
Harry spun on the spot towards the noise, already knowing what he was going to see, as his heart thumped in his chest and his wand slipped from the holster on his arm into his hand.
He heard the sounds of more people Apparating in, and quickly cast the spell to summon Prongs, his Patronus. He gave it a message and sent it galloping up towards the castle, to alert Dumbledore of the attack.
A second stag appeared from his wand, and took a very similar message to Snape.
The two of them had only been sharing a bed for a little over two weeks, and Harry didn’t think that would be enough time to actually have helped them to share magic, but he didn’t want the man to panic if it did work, and he felt his own magic being drawn away.
Harry moved forwards, a stunning spell on his lips before he’d even gotten close to the Death Eaters. Ron and Hermione flanked him, and Harry could see the shopkeepers urging the students into their shops to take cover.
A few of the seventh year students—the Lions in particular, reckless as they were—had drawn their wands and were engaging the Death Eaters.
“Is he here?” Ron asked.
Harry shook his head, not needing to ask to know that Ron was talking about Voldemort. “Not yet.”
“We should take cover, Harry,” Hermione said, though he could hear the reluctance in her tone. “The Headmaster said that it’s important that you don’t get injured before you face him. ”
Harry shot a spell at a Death Eater, who was aiming at a fourth year, and shook his head. “I’m not going to go and hide while there’s kids being hurt, Hermione.”
He engaged another Death Eater as Hermione cast a shield around them, and Ron returned fire against another on their left. They only had to hold up long enough for the teachers—or the Order—to arrive, and Harry would be damned if he slunk away when there were kids that could get hurt simply for being in the way.
Death Eater after Death Eater came towards them, and he fought with everything he had. Later, he’d be surprised how well he held up against them, but in the moment, all he could think about was protecting the people that could be caught in the crossfire.
After that felt both like only minutes, and yet also hours, Harry saw Kingsley and Remus from the corner of his eye, and then he saw Tonks running past him.
The cavalry had arrived.
And then he felt it. Voldemort had arrived.
“Fuck, he’s here,” he muttered to Ron and Hermione.
“We need to go, Harry,” Hermione urged, tugging on the back of his robes. “You’re not ready to face him, yet, Harry. We can’t be here.”
“I know,” Harry agreed, though he didn’t attempt to leave. He wasn’t going to let anyone else die for him, not today.
Surging forwards, he left his friends behind as he ran through the crowds to where he could feel Voldemort on the edge of the fight.
“Picking fights with children now, Voldemort?” he taunted, drawing his attention. “How… cowardly .”
“You’ll die today, Harry Potter.”
Harry spun out of the way as the Killing Curse flew close to him on his left, and sent back his own rapid fire of spells. He should be tired by now, he knew, and he wasn’t. His magic still felt strong, like he could last all day, and he realised that the bond was working.
Refocusing himself, he stared at Voldemort. He could end this here.
In one of the many books that he’d been studying, he’d found an old spell that could disintegrate whatever it was aimed at, but it required a lot of power.
He pulled his magic up, pulling at Severus’ through the thread of the bond, and pointed his wand directly at Voldemort’s chest.
“ Dissolvere evanescet,” he murmured.
A flash of pure white magic left his wand, and tore through Voldemort’s shield to hit him directly in the chest as Harry had aimed. The Dark Lord screamed out in pain, but as the spell ended, Harry realised that he was only injured, not dead.
He was about to cast again, when Voldemort Apparated away, his Death Eaters following suit only seconds later.
…
“You did amazingly well today, Harry,” Dumbledore said, perching himself on the seat beside Harry’s bed.
As soon as Harry had gotten back to the school, he’d been accosted by Madam Pomfrey, who’d marched him up to the Hospital Wing for a full check—and so that she could heal the cuts and bruises that were littering Harry’s body.
There were quite a lot of them that he hadn’t noticed he’d gotten during the fighting.
Harry nodded at Dumbledore, and then ran a hand through his hair. “I had hoped that the disintegration spell would work. It looks like we’re going to have to go back to the drawing board.”
“It certainly injured him,” Dumbledore replied. “I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him back away from a fight quite so quickly, my boy.”
Horry opened his mouth when Severus walked into the Hospital Wing. His eyes immediately found Harry, and he looked him over carefully. “You are well?”
“I’m fine,” Harry assured him softly. “Were you okay? With my pulling on your magic, I mean?”
Severus nodded. “I could feel it, certainly, but it wasn’t debilitating.”
“I think, next time I face him, I’ll have to pull more. Injuring him isn’t a loss, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Hopefully, when the time comes, it will be second nature to you,” Severus replied. He placed two potions down on the bedside table. “Take both of those, they’ll help with the magical exhaustion. I’ll see you tonight.”
Harry nodded as Severus nodded his head to the Headmaster and left. He drank the potions, wincing at the taste—he was still sure that Snape did that on purpose—and then looked at the Headmaster.
“Any more books that you recommend I read, sir?”
“Not right now, Harry, but I’m sure that I’ll have a few more for you in the next day or two. You and Severus seem to be getting along well.”
Harry shrugged. “I suppose that being forced to share a bed every night is as much a bonding experience as the actual bond, sir.”
Dumbledore smiled. “Quite right, my boy, quite right. It’s good for him, not being so reclusive all of the time. You’re good for him.”
Harry snorted. “I won’t tell him that you said that.”
…
Harry woke up slowly. He was extremely warm and comfortable—even more so than usual, which was saying a lot, because Severus’ bed was what dreams were made of.
He moved to stretch himself out, and found that he couldn’t. He also found the reason for the abundance of warmth, when he realised that Severus was plastered to his back, an arm wrapped securely around Harry’s waist, holding him close against him.
Harry froze, and then slowly, he relaxed into the hold, because it felt… It felt good. He felt safe. He felt wanted. He felt… loved.
Unsure what to do with that revelation, he concentrated on evening out his breathing, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure Severus would react, if he woke up to find himself in such a position, only to realise that Harry was awake and enjoying it.
The very last thing that Harry wanted to come from this was Severus being angry with him; he wasn’t sure that he would be able to handle the emotional whiplash.
They really had been getting on well since the bond had started. It had been almost like an unspoken agreement to take each other as they were, rather than the people that they each thought the other was.
It had been surprisingly easy to treat Severus like a… like a friend, Harry supposed.
He’d consider them to be friends now, he realised.
A disturbing stray flew through his mind, where he might even consider them more than friends, but Harry forcefully pushed that one away. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—ruin things between them for the sake of his teenage hormones, or for something unrequited, that had the power to destroy the peace that they’d managed to find between them.
He felt Severus stirring behind him, and concentrated on his faked sleep. He was expecting Severus to pull away immediately, but it didn’t happen.
The arm over Harry’s waist tightened slightly for a moment, and then he heard Severus sigh.
A kiss was pressed to the bare skin of Harry’s shoulder, and almost a full minute later, Severus finally moved away, rolling to the other side of the bed to sit up.
While Severus walked into the bathroom, Harry opened his eyes, and then let himself roll onto his back to stare up at the ceiling in disbelief.
Unrequited, huh?
…
“Surely we should take advantage of the fact that Potter has injured him?” Moody demanded. “Launch an attack now, Albus, away from the school!”
“I agree with Alastor,” Kingsley said, nodding his head. “It’s been merely days since the Hogsmeade attack, he wouldn’t be expecting a retaliation.”
“We don’t know where—”
“He’s at Malfoy Manor,” Harry said quietly, interrupting the Headmaster. “Draco told me as much, just yesterday.”
There was a sudden silence, and then Dumbledore asked, “Draco told you?”
“He wanted to know if I could help get his mother free. I told him that I’d get back to him later today with a definite answer, if he thought that his mother could last that long. Draco assured me that she could.”
“How do you know that you can trust it?” Moody asked. “You could be walking straight into a trap, boy.”
“I could,” Harry agreed, inclining his head. “But trusting my gut has gotten me this far, and I believe that Draco would do absolutely anything to keep his mother safe. Severus agrees with me. Draco didn’t want the mark, once he realised what would actually be expected of him. Yes, he’s a prat, but he’s not a murderer, and he doesn’t… I don’t think he has it in him to be truly evil. He can be cruel with his words, and he’s a bully, but he’s not… he’s not a Death Eater.”
“The mark on his arm leads me to believe differently.”
Harry sighed. “Perhaps in name. But I don’t believe that people necessarily have to be willing, to be marked. If his mother’s safety was threatened, then it’s entirely possible that Draco took the route that kept her safe.”
“He can get you into the Manor, Harry?”
Harry nodded silently.
“Then, perhaps, we should begin planning,” Dumbledore said, with a heavy sigh. “It is imperative that we keep Hogwarts—and more importantly, the occupants—safe. If Voldemort has no remorse in bringing the fight to the castle, if he allows the torture of school children, then it becomes even more apparent that this war needs to be ended sooner, rather than later.”
…
“I should be coming with you.”
Harry looked up to where he’d been fastening up the buttons on his battle clothes. Severus was watching him with pained eyes.
“You can’t,” Harry replied softly. “Not only will you be the number one target of his followers, for being a traitor, but if I need to use more of your magic than last time, it would basically leave you as a sitting duck.”
He shook his head. “Besides, you need to be here to protect the students. Just in case. If Dumbledore… if he doesn’t come back, then you know that the wards will fall to you to hold.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to stay home, while the rest of you go out to fight, Harry. Surely you understand that?”
“Of course I do,” Harry replied. “You know that I do. How many times have I railed against that very thing? I understand that this sucks, Severus, but… sometimes, it’s just your turn to sit it out, and you’ve got to accept that.”
Severus shook his head, and stood from where he’d been sitting on the bed. He crossed to the dresser, and picked up a belt, before he took a few steps to Harry’s side. He fastened the belt around his waist.
“Potions, and weapons,” he murmured. Pointing at each one, he said, “General healing potion, blood replenisher, concussion solution, poisoned dagger, and an explosive potion. For the latter, throw it, and then shield yourself immediately, it goes off with quite the blast.”
“Thank you,” Harry replied, resituating the belt just slightly. “I’ll make sure that he feels your wrath, Severus. It’s both of our magic, right? It’ll be from both of us.”
“Be careful, Harry. And… come back in one piece. You’re better than he is, just remember that.”
Hesitating only for a second, Harry leant up to press a kiss against Severus’ cheek. “I’ll come back.”
…
Malfoy Manor was turned into a battle ground in minutes .
Harry had gone in first, alone, to remove Narcissa Malfoy from the house. She’d floo’d to Hogwarts, where both Severus and Draco were waiting to greet her, safe from the fight.
Once she’d left, the Order, led by Dumbledore, had surrounded the Manor, and tore their way through the wards.
As Death Eaters had spilled out onto the grass, Harry had gone in search of the Dark Lord. He’d found him easily, in an office space, watching through the window as the battle started in earnest.
“Recovered yet, Tom?” Harry asked, as he slid the Invisibility cloak from his shoulders.
He wouldn’t hit Voldemort in the back with a spell. He had more honour than that.
“Potter. I wondered if you would find your way to me,” Voldemort replied, as he turned to look at Harry.
Harry built his magic inside of him, pulling more and more from Severus as he did, until his skin was practically glowing with the sheer amount of magic he had at his disposal.
“Fight me like a man,” Harry murmured. “Instead of running away like a coward.”
“I’m going to kill you, Harry Potter,” Voldemort murmured softly. “And then nobody shall ever question me.”
Harry wondered if that meant that people—perhaps even the Death Eaters— had been questioning him since the Hogsmeade skirmish.
“Then let's fight.”
Harry played defence for a while, watching Voldemort’s spell patterns. Despite the man being as mad as a hatter, he was an incredible wizard, and his creativity was inspiring to watch.
Eventually, Harry found a break in his pattern to take advantage of, as he’d known that he would.
With every bit of power he had, Harry used the same disintegration spell that he’d used before, and he let the magic flow from his wand, holding it longer than he had before, until he could see parts of Voldemort literally flaking away.
Only when there was naught but dust left, did Harry stop the spell, falling to his knees.
It was over.
…
“I can’t believe you did it!” Hermione squeaked. Her face was ashen, and she had marks on her face where he assumed she’d been clutching at her cheeks, while she waited for him to return.
“I can’t believe that you didn’t take us with you,” Ron added, pale faced himself, though he was grinning widely, despite his words.
“It was worth it, to keep you both safe,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “I’d have been devastated if anything had happened to either of you.”
“Snape was an absolute mess,” Ron added, lowering his tone.
Severus was just across the Hospital Wing, giving potions to the Order members who’d been injured in the fight. Harry glanced at him, and then looked back at Ron, questioning with an arched eyebrow.
“Pacing, checking the time, growling every time someone made a sound,” Ron explained, shaking his head. “I don’t think that he liked being left behind.”
“I don’t think anybody does,” Harry replied.
“He’s always protected you,” Hermione pointed out softly. “It must have gone against every single instinct in his body to watch you go off to fight, while he was staying behind, safe in the castle.”
Harry twisted his lips thoughtfully. She had a point. Despite protesting his ‘special treatment’, and fighting against him over the years, Harry knew that Severus had been protecting him since the very first moment he’d stepped into the castle. He’d been a bastard while he was doing it, of course, there was no denying that, but Harry knew that he was safe with him.
Possibly the safest he could ever be.
“So… what happens now?” Ron asked, tilting his head slightly.
Harry shook his head, and then smiled slightly. “I guess… I guess that I can make some plans for after graduation now?”
Hermione smiled. “I have all of the pamphlets from the careers advice, in our fifth year, if you want to look at them all again?”
Harry grinned. “Of course you do.”
…
Harry stared at the canopy of his bed. It was just after midnight, and he’d been lying there for over an hour, sleep illusive. It just… didn’t feel right.
He was cold, and the scent of the bed wasn’t right, and there was nobody touching his arm, and—
He wanted to go back to Severus’ quarters.
He sighed, and turned over, punching his pillow to try and make it more comfortable, before he lay his head back down and closed his eyes.
He imagined that Severus was probably enjoying having his bed back to himself again. Now that Voldemort was no more, they had no reason to encourage the bond between them to remain open to sharing their magic, and no reason to share a bed anymore.
Harry buried his face against the pillow, and barely resisted the urge to scream into it.
It all just felt wrong.
…
“You look awful, Harry,” Hermione said, when he joined them at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”
Harry huffed. “When did I leave the Hospital Wing?”
“That was four days ago!” Ron said, after swallowing a mouthful of food. “Mate, why aren’t you sleeping?”
Harry just shook his head. He couldn’t tell his friends that he couldn’t sleep because their Potions Master wasn’t lying in the bed beside him, could he?
“We’ve got Potions first,” Hermione said, looking concerned. “Are you going to be able to make a potion without blowing it up, Harry?”
“I… I’ll be fine,” Harry said, unsure if he believed his words, and sure that Hermione definitely didn’t.
He didn’t bother trying to eat breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, and his stomach was rolling uncomfortably in a way that told him that if he did try to eat anything, he’d likely only end up throwing it back up sometime in the near future.
Instead, he waited for Ron to finish eating, and then followed his friends down to the dungeons, and into the Potions classroom.
The other students took their own seats just before Severus stormed into the classroom. One look at his face, and it was clear that he was in a horrendous mood.
Harry put his head down.
Despite them getting on so much better, he had no doubt that, should he mess up today, it would bring Severus’ wrath down on his head like a tonne of bricks.
He tried his hardest to focus on the lesson, but it was almost like he was underwater. The world was going in and out of focus, and the words didn’t seem to make much sense.
“Potter?”
Harry blinked, and then looked up to see Severus watching him with an arched eyebrow. Around them, the other students were rustling around, getting their ingredients and setting up their cauldrons.
Harry didn’t even know what potion they were supposed to be brewing.
“I… don’t think that I should brew today, sir,” Harry said softly, praying that Severus wouldn’t be annoyed with him. “I think that I’d probably blow it up if I tried.”
“Do you require the Hospital Wing, Mr Potter?”
Harry shook his head. He really didn’t want to go and see Madam Pomfrey; she’d dose him with a sleeping potion, and he’d managed to get some rest, but it was only prolonging the inevitable. Eventually, he’d end up exhausted again, staring up at the ceiling of his bed, and wishing that he was somewhere else.
“Hm. Well, perhaps you should work with Miss Granger today, Potter. To save my classroom, if nothing else.”
Harry nodded his head gratefully, and shifted along the bench, to where Hermione was setting up her own workstation.
“Here,” she murmured, pushing a mortar and pestle towards him, along with some bicorn horn. “Grind this up.”
He smiled at her, knowing that she didn’t trust him with either the actual brewing, or a sharp knife, and he thanked Merlin for the millionth time, for the friends that he had.
…
Despite his utter exhaustion, Harry found himself still unable to sleep that night. He was almost ready to cry in sheer frustration, and in a fit of pique, he threw the covers off himself and sat up.
Grabbing the cloak, and his wand, he covered himself and crept from his rooms, down the hall to Severus’ rooms.
Instead of attempting to let himself in with his wand, he knocked softly on the door instead. There was a tense pause, and then the door swung open.
Harry removed the cloak, and looked up at the Potions Master.
“Harry? Is everything okay?”
“I can’t sleep,” Harry said, his voice little more than a whisper. “I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to eat, because I feel sick, because I can’t sleep, and—”
“Harry?”
“My bed is… it’s not right. It’s too cold. And, and I, it… it doesn’t have you in it, to keep me safe.”
Severus stared at him for a long moment, and then ushered him inside. “I don’t know if this is a side effect of the bond, Harry,” he admitted. “I’ll have to do more research into it, but—”
“I think it’s just a side effect of you,” Harry said, rubbing his tired eyes. “You make me feel safe. You make me feel… wanted.”
“Harry, I—”
“I was awake. That morning when you woke up, and you kissed my shoulder. I was awake, and I’d been thinking about how good it felt to wake up with you all around me,” Harry shook his head. “And then you kissed my shoulder, and I felt wanted. ”
“You’re my student,” Severus murmured, reaching up to cup the side of Harry’s face with his open palm. “I can’t… we can’t… it’s not right.”
“Can I please just sleep here? Just sleep, I promise. We can… we can revisit the rest later, when I’m done with school, but I just… I need… please, Severus?”
Severus stared at him for a long moment, and then silently nodded his head. “You know where the bed is. I’ll be there soon.”
…
Harry woke up to find himself warm, and comfortable, and well rested. There was an arm wrapped around his waist, and he relished the feeling, smiling slightly to himself.
When a sneaky kiss was pressed against his shoulder, his smile widened, and he rolled over in Severus’ grip.
“Morning,” he whispered.
“Morning,” Severus replied, smiling slightly.
“You were in a bad mood yesterday,” Harry murmured, as he pressed his face against Severus’ chest. “Was everything okay?”
Severus’ arm tightened slightly. “You weren’t the only one having trouble sleeping alone, Harry.”