The Semblance of Peace, part 4
Harry knocked on Snape's office door. It swung open a few seconds later, and Harry walked inside.
"Potter. On time, for a change." Snape flicked his wand, and the door fell shut behind Harry. "McGonagall had no objections to your extra lessons."
"Very good," Voldemort said.
"I assume you will be assisting Potter during my classes?"
"Yes, Harry will receive my help should he need it."
"Good. Then I won't have to waste any time on the boy this evening." Snape gestured towards a door behind his desk. "I have set up your potion in my quarters."
Harry followed Snape through the door. While he had quickly decided to lay back when Voldemort and Snape discussed Potions, he couldn't help feel curious about Snape's private rooms.
They turned out to be nothing special. An average sitting room filled with the type of furniture you found everywhere around Hogwarts. The workroom Snape led them to looked like a smaller version of his classroom, only without the student tables.
"I have encountered some problems," Snape said, halting behind a smoking cauldron. Harry stopped beside him so Voldemort could see what was going on. "I cannot get the phoenix tears to fuse with the other ingredients. I suspect I need more ingredients to make this work, though the ones I tried - dragon blood, crushed scarabs, and boomslang skin - only made matters worse.
Voldemort stared into the cauldron. "Yes, I expected that. Unfortunately, my source was incomplete." He looked up at Snape. "You'll need to consult any and all translations you can find on this subject. I suggest you start by visiting Muggle university libraries."
"That will take time." Snape extinguished the fire below the cauldron.
"I have time, Severus."
"Very well." Snape dumped the cauldron in a nearby sink. "I suggest we continue this conversation in a more comfortable setting."
They took chairs in front of the unlit fireplace, and Snape summoned a pot of tea. Harry tried to keep up with Voldemort and Snape, but it was all talk about this potion or that potion, and Harry quickly lost track. He dozed, only half-hearing what was being said. It was strangely relaxing to let Voldemort control him for a while so he could retreat in his mind after a long day of classes. He had no idea how much time passed, and it wasn't until Snape uttered the word 'curfew' he snapped back to the present.
"Yes, we should be getting back soon," Voldemort said. He placed his empty teacup on a side table. "However, I would like to make use of your services this evening."
"That would be my pleasure," Snape said with an odd gleam in his black eyes.
Voldemort chuckled. "I suspect you've wanted to try out this body since you learned of my predicament."
"You are not incorrect."
Harry wrestled himself to the surface of his mind. "Huh?"
"Severus likes fit young men, Harry."
"What?"
"Don't tell me you don't want to see your Potions master on his knees, his lips wrapped around your cock."
"Well." Harry honestly did not know what else to say. Snape liked men? Until just a minute ago, Harry hadn't even considered Snape to have a sexuality. "But -- "
"Potter, trust me, it is not you I want to pleasure." Snape got up from his chair, and lowered himself to his knees in front of Harry.
"Yes, our Severus enjoys pleasuring his master."
"You mean, he's done this before?"
Snape rolled his eyes, placed his hands on Harry's knees, and parted his legs.
"Just enjoy it, Harry. Snape's quite talented with his mouth."
Harry tried to move away, but Voldemort kept him in place, and Harry was forced to watch in a sort of horrified fascination how Snape opened a few buttons on his robes and pulled out Harry's half-hard cock.
Snape, on his knees, sucking Harry's cock inside his mouth. Through the daze of feeling something hot and tight and wet wrapped around his prick Harry realized the sight was a very enticing one. Snape, that bloody bastard, on his knees in front of Harry Potter, the bane of his existence (or so Snape always claimed).
"Yes, I knew you'd see it my way. Just relax, Harry."
And Harry felt some control flow back inside his body, and he thrust his hips up, tentative at first, but when Snape wrapped his fingers around the base of Harry's cock and moved them up and down in time with his lips and tongue, Harry became more daring.
I'm fucking Snape's mouth, he thought.
"We're fucking his mouth, my little Horcrux. For now. Next time, I'll show you other parts of Severus we can fuck."
"Oh God," Harry moaned, his legs jerking. He grabbed at the armrests, trying to keep his body from bucking.
"Touch yourself, Severus," Voldemort said. Snape complied at once. He tugged on his own robes, and released his hard cock. Harry stared at it with wide eyes. He'd never even considered Snape to have a penis, let alone a hard one. A penis he was now stimulating as he swallowed Harry's cock down.
It felt so fucking good, too good for something that Snape was doing, and Harry couldn't help but enjoy the hell out of it and want it even more. No one had ever touched him like that before.
And Snape, on his knees! That thought, that sight, sent a strange, addictive surge of dominance through Harry that gathered in his balls and cock. He thrust his hips up harder, and earned a surprised groan from Snape. It was the best sound he'd ever heard, and he wanted more of it, all of it.
"Harder," he said, and gritted his teeth. "Suck me harder, Snape."
Snape's black eyes glanced up at him as he apparently realized it was no longer Voldemort who was in control of him, but Harry. At the feeling of teeth raking across his hard shaft, Harry shot one hand out, curling his fingers in Snape's long, greasy hair. Snape moaned, and allowed Harry to pull his head closer and swallow even more of Harry's cock.
"Oh fuck yes," Harry groaned. He knew he was in control, and yet he felt helpless at this sudden desire that burned inside of him. He'd never considered this, never thought about letting a man suck his cock, never imagined Snape on his knees in front of him working his own cock with swift strokes, but now that it was happening, Harry didn't know if he could ever want anything else ever again.
It was an addictive sort of power that Harry knew should scare him, and yet all he felt was heat and want and more, give me more.
He thrust his hips up once, twice, and shot his release down Snape's throat, his body first stiffening and then melting in his chair. Snape swallowed and swallowed, and jerked around Harry's cock as he came as well, his semen spurting across the stone floor.
"Fuck," Harry gasped. Snape pulled away from him and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn't bother tucking Harry's spent prick away, but stood to adjust his own clothing. Harry felt too exhausted to move.
"Did you enjoy that, my little Horcrux?"
"Yeah," Harry said. He managed to fumble his prick back inside his pants and robes. Now that it was over, he didn't like the idea of being that exposed in Snape's sitting room. And now that it was over, it was hard to believe he had enjoyed it that much.
Snape sucking him off. Somehow, that made Harry want to laugh.
"Come, we must go." Voldemort forced Harry up from the chair, and Harry took a few wobbling steps before he found his balance.
"If that is all?" Snape asked. He looked as composed as ever, as though he hadn't just had a student's penis in his mouth. Or a Dark Lord's. It was hard to tell which was which.
Voldemort approached Snape, and placed Harry's hands on Snape's cheeks. "You did well, Severus," he said, and leaned closer to brush his lips across Snape's.
Harry drew back in surprise, which got him a sneer from Snape. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, Potter."
"Yeah," Harry said, and hurried out of the sitting room. "Did you have to kiss him?" he asked in Snape's office.
"Yes."
Harry snorted, and pulled the door to the corridor open. "I liked the other thing just fine," he said, after making sure no one was lingering nearby. "But the kissing, not so much."
"You're only now starting to learn about these kind of pleasures, Harry. You'll appreciate all of them in due time."
Harry ignored Voldemort's comment, though he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in Snape's sitting room. Snape, a teacher, a Death Eater, a traitor, had sucked him off. He'd had Harry's penis in his mouth and he'd swallowed Harry's come. Somehow that thought was both horrifying and titillating, and it confused Harry so much he didn't notice he was being followed.
"Potter," a voice said behind him when he'd almost reached the stairs. "Not very smart of you to stroll around the Slytherin dungeons by yourself."
Turning around, Harry saw Theodore Nott standing behind him with his wand out. "What do you want?" he asked, and lowered his hand slowly to reach for his own wand.
"You got my father killed," Nott said. "It's time you paid for that."
Harry frowned. "Your father died while trying to escape from Azkaban. I had nothing to do with that."
"You sent him there in the first place!" Nott raised his wand, just as Harry got hold of his own.
"Crucio!"
Nott slammed to the floor as it dawned on Harry he hadn't uttered that curse, but Voldemort had. Nott thrashed against the stones, shrieks and cries spilling from his lips. Keeping his wand aimed at Nott, Voldemort sauntered closer and didn't end the curse until he was standing over Nott, both feet on either side of Nott's body.
"That was a very foolish thing to do," Voldemort said, glaring down at Nott.
"You - you - a Cruciatus - I'll tell -- "
"Oh, please do," Voldemort said. "Run along to your Head of House."
Nott swallowed and tried to crawl away, but Voldemort placed one foot on his chest and pressed him to the ground. "I won't tell that traitor anything! He was on your side all along. He betrayed us all."
"Yes, I've heard." Voldemort smirked and tilted his head in a silent dare. "Why don't you tell Headmistress McGonagall then?"
"I will!" Nott tried to move away again, but Voldemort slid his foot from Nott's chest to his throat, forcing him down once more.
"No, you won't," Voldemort said. "And I'll tell you why." He leaned a little closer to Nott's face. "No one is going to believe you. Go to the Headmistress. Go to the Ministry for all I care. Who do you think they'll believe? Harry Potter, who just got awarded the Order of Merlin, first class, for defeating the most powerful wizard in this world, or a pathetic little inbred Death Eater sympathizer such as you?"
Nott shook his head, and scurried away the moment Voldemort withdrew his foot. "You can't just go around using Unforgivables here, Potter."
"I think I just did. And you aren't going to stop me." Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "In fact, if you ever pull your wand at me again, I'll make it a Killing Curse and no one will find your body. Make sure you tell all your little Slytherin friends what they can expect if they try to go up against me."
"You're mad, Potter!" Nott scrambled to his feet and hurried into the darkness of the dungeons. "You're bloody mad!"
"Jesus Christ," Harry said when he found he could use his voice again. "You used a -- "
"Don't get all hypocritical on me now, Harry. You didn't hear me complaining when you used it on Severus."
"No, that's not what I meant." Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. "You used one at Hogwarts."
"I see no problem with that. He's not going to tell anyone, not even his fellow Slytherins. It would make him look very weak to admit Harry Potter managed to curse him."
Harry inhaled a shaky breath. "I can't believe you. You could have just petrified him or something."
"Never give your adversaries just one chance, Harry. Never allow them to think you are not willing to go as far as they are prepared to go."
"Yeah, but -- "
"Do you think he would have just petrified you?"
Harry shook his head.
"Now then. We only made sure he won't try anything foolish with us again."
When Harry didn't move, Voldemort took control again. He walked up the stairs, and ducked into the first empty classroom he could find.
"Here's another lesson for you. Aurors never check back any further than twelve spells. That's why you should always cast at least twenty after using an Unforgivable." And Voldemort proceeded to cast silencing charms and levitation spells and a stinging hex and every other type of magic an average Hogwarts student would use during his day. He ended with a firm 'Finite Incantatum', and gave Harry the control over his body back.
"All right. I can see why you'd want to curse Nott like that. But I'd appreciate it if you kept the Unforgivables down to an absolute minimum while we're at Hogwarts."
"I promise. Cross my heart."
"You mean, my heart."
"Our heart."
"Now you're sounding soft," Harry said with a grin. Voldemort's laughter echoed in his mind as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower.
*--*--*
"Harry, over here!" Hermione waved him towards a table in the corner of the common room.
As Harry sat down, Ron gave him a concerned look. "How was it? Snape as nasty as ever?"
"Oh, yeah," Harry said vaguely. "Snape was nasty."
"I bet he didn't make you scrub toilets, though," Ron said, and he took off on a detailed description of his detention with Filch. Harry, meanwhile, glanced around the common room and felt quite exposed, as if he had a big sign hovering over his head that said: I just got my cock sucked by Snape, and after that I cast a Cruciatus on a Slytherin.
"Don't be ridiculous. None of these students here are gifted with Legilimency."
Harry pursed his lips to hide his snort. How do you know?
"I checked."
Harry's eyes grew wide, and Ron gave him a confused look, so Harry quickly grunted his agreement that having to scrub toilets without magic was indeed the foulest task on the planet.
Have you been looking into people's minds? he thought.
"Little peeks here and there to make sure no one is suspecting us."
"Oh, Professor Greisenbloo asked me to give you this," Hermione said, and slid the Captain's badge across the table. "She also said to tell you she expects you to handle the tryouts."
"Thanks." Harry rubbed a finger across the badge. He'd missed Quidditch. "But I'm not holding tryouts."
"Why not?" Ron asked, his ears turning pink. "Are you just going to assign players?"
"Don't be ridiculous. We had a great team in our sixth year. We'll just continue with that one."
"But Katie Bell has left school," Hermione said. She sounded a little disapproving.
"Dean can play Chaser." Harry turned around in his seat and looked at Dean, who sat on the couch with Neville and Seamus. "Oi, Dean! You want to play Chaser this year?"
Dean grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
"That's settled then," Harry said, and turned back to Ron and Hermione, who were both staring at him. "What?"
"Well, honestly." Hermione focused her attention on her homework.
"So I'm on the team? Again?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Thanks, mate."
"I'm going to bed," Harry said. "Full day tomorrow." And Snape sucking his cock had taken it out of him, but he didn't say that. When he felt his cheeks flush, he wished he hadn't thought it, either.
"Yeah, I'm...er...going to stay for a bit," Ron said, and gestured discreetly at Hermione.
"Sure. See you tomorrow." Harry trotted up the stairs to their dormitory. He changed into his pajamas, crawled into bed, and cast a few spells and charms on his curtains to keep prying eyes away.
"Do you like Quidditch?" he asked, as he lay down on his back and stared at the Captain's badge in his hands.
"Not particularly."
"You never played while you were in Hogwarts?"
"No, I was too busy becoming a Dark Lord. I didn't have time for sports."
Harry noticed the teasing edge to Voldemort's voice and grinned. It was becoming easier and easier to recognize Voldemort's moods these days. "Yeah, too busy playing with your Basilisk, I bet."
Voldemort chuckled. God, Harry had no idea why that felt so good, like someone tickling their fingers across his back. "Yes, among other things."
"How old were you when you first had sex?"
"If by sex you mean intercourse, then the answer is sixteen."
"Girl or boy?"
"Boy, of course. I've never been interested in girls. Though Minerva McGonagall asked me to Hogsmeade once. I think she was a little sweet on me."
The idea of McGonagall asking Voldemort out sent Harry into an outright giggle fit. "Did you accept?"
"No, I politely declined."
"So you've never had sex with a girl? Ever?"
"You're very talkative tonight, aren't you? No, I haven't."
Harry thrust a victorious fist into the air. "Ha! Then you're a virgin as well. Sort of."
"I had forgotten what it's like to be young and measure everything in life by whether someone is a virgin or not."
"Yeah, you're kinda old, aren't you?" Harry smirked at the rather playful twitch from his scar. "Seventy-two, right?"
"Seventy-one, thank you very much. My birthday isn't until December."
Harry rolled onto his stomach and placed the badge on his nightstand. He folded his arms beneath his head. "Does what I did tonight with Snape count as sex?"
"He sucked your cock. I certainly think so."
"Oh. So I had sex with Snape. That's very...odd."
"Perhaps. I think of it as pleasurable."
"It was all right. So you've been having sex with Snape for a while?"
"Severus was an eager boy when he first came to me, and like myself, he preferred men. It was a mutual decision."
"So you never...er..." Harry plucked at his pillow.
"Forced him? No. Contrary to what you might think of me, I like my partners to be willing."
"That's...good." Harry found a loose thread in his pillow's seam and tugged on it. "You know what's also odd?"
"What?
"Us talking like this. Making jokes. You're my enemy. I know that. This can't be normal."
"Well, I suppose sharing a body creates a certain amount of familiarity."
Harry considered that. "So did you discuss your sex-life with Quirrell?"
Laughter ran down Harry's spine like drops of warm oil. "No, I did not. But you're not Quirrell. You are far more important to me."
"Yeah, keeper of your soul and all that." Harry rolled onto his back again. "It's a very strange idea to be a Horcrux. Just as strange as having only a few parts of your soul left, I suppose."
"I wouldn't know. I've never been a Horcrux."
"True." Harry reached down and pulled the sheets up. "You're still my enemy. Doing stuff together doesn't change that."
"I know."
Harry remained quiet for a while, letting the evening's events pass through his mind. "Something I hadn't realized before," he finally said when his thoughts focused on their encounter with Nott. "That Snape must have a hard time with some of his Slytherin students. What with him being a traitor."
"Just punishment for his treachery."
"Yeah, maybe." Harry closed his eyes. "What will happen when you get your body back?"
"That's too delicate a subject to discuss now, Harry. Go to sleep."
"Night, Tom."
"Good night, Harry."
*--*--*
The Potions classroom no longer held Slughorn's cozy tables, but individual desks.
"Snape really is back," Ron said morosely as they entered the room.
"Indeed, Mr Weasley." Snape swept inside after them. "Sit."
They found seats beside each other, and Harry studiously did not look at Snape, because he knew he'd blush when seeing the man's face, or rather, his lips, and once he did he knew he'd remember how they'd felt around his cock the previous night, and once he did that he could kiss a proper potion goodbye. And he shouldn't think about kissing, either.
"Harry, it was just sex. And sex is never worth letting it influence your concentration."
Easy for you to say, Harry thought, and opened his bag to take out his scales and potions kit, and his brand-new copy of Advanced Potion-Making.
"No books." Snape stood beside a table which held a dozen or so trays stocked with bottles and jars. "You are expected to brew any potion this year without the aid of your book or any additional instructions."
Ron paled. "But -- "
"No buts, Mr Weasley. You are a NEWT student. If you feel you cannot comply with this class' requirements, you are of course free to leave." Snape gestured at the door and gave Ron a daring look. "You are expected to prepare for your lessons prior to class."
Even Hermione looked a little worried. Slughorn usually allowed them to use their books when it came to the more difficult potions. Apparently Snape wasn't going to be so lenient. Not that it surprised Harry.
"Today you will brew a potion comprised of these ingredients." Snape indicated the trays. "These ingredients are the basis of one specific potion. It is your task to identify this potion and brew it. You have two hours, starting now."
"He can't be serious," Ron whispered as they joined the others to collect a tray each.
Hermione studied her tray for a few seconds. "It's Veritaserum," she said. "See? These are jobberknoll feathers, and that's occamy blood."
"There will be no need for talking, Miss Granger," Snape said, sneering.
I hope you know how to brew Veritaserum, Harry thought. Because I sure as hell don't.
"I do. However, these aren't the ingredients for Veritaserum."
Harry blinked. They're not?
"Smell the blood."
Harry gave the jar of blood a good sniff. It smelled like blood; coppery and heady. But there was something off about it. For some reason, the blood reminded him of Liquorice Wands.
"Very good. This is re'em blood. It has a whiff of anise. These are the ingredients for a Memory Potion."
Harry tried to catch Hermione's attention to tell her this, but Snape was watching them like a hawk.
"Start with the blood, get it to simmer, then add the jobberknoll feathers."
Harry did as Voldemort told him, and took a moment to look around. Hermione seemed to know what she was doing, but Ron was desperately trying to glance at Harry's desk. However, Snape kept patrolling the isle between their desks, and Harry feared Ron was in for disaster.
"Now this is a very important part. Both bloodroot and thornapples are poisonous. That is why you need to crush them in the jar of bitter ash tonic to neutralize their poisons."
Again, Harry did as he was told. So what does a Memory Potion do?
"It will allow you to concentrate for a few hours at a time."
Harry wasn't very impressed. He'd expected something more spectacular.
"It is a very useful potion when doing research, as you'll be able to skim through great amounts of text searching for a handful of clues to whatever you're looking for. Besides that, the potion will also allow you to search your memory more efficiently and quickly, and you'll remember new facts more easily."
Something dawned on Harry. Snape needs to do research for your potion.
"Yes, I expect he'll bottle your Memory Potion after class and put it to good use. Now you need to add the dried toadflax."
For the next hour-and-a-half, Harry chopped and stirred and cut and diced until his potion came to a simmer one final time and turned a very light yellow.
"Perfect."
Harry smiled and sat back, glancing at everyone else's work. Ron's cauldron was steaming and giving loud, smelly burps, and Hermione kept muttering about how her potion wasn't supposed to be red at this stage.
"She forgot to detox her thornapples, something you wouldn't do when brewing Veritaserum."
Snape swept past Harry's desk, taking a quick look at his cauldron. He didn't comment, and moved on to Ron's desk.
"And what is this supposed to be, Mr Weasley?" Snape pointed at Ron's cauldron with his wand.
"Veritaserum," Ron said, and even managed to sound confident although his cauldron was now hissing.
"That is not Veritaserum." Snape waved his wand, and Ron's potion disappeared. "No marks for you today."
Snape stalked over to Hermione's desk. "And what do you have to say for yourself, Miss Granger?"
Hermione sighed and stared at her cauldron. Her potion was now an odd brown color, like clotted blood. "I don't know what went wrong, sir. I've revised the entire book over the summer and I know how to brew Veritaserum, but -- "
"Then perhaps you should have revised a little bit more, so you'd have known you weren't supposed to brew Veritaserum."
Hermione stared at Snape with her mouth opened, as though he'd just told her the sun wouldn't rise the next day.
"No marks for you." Snape flicked his wand again, and Hermione gasped at her suddenly empty cauldron.
"Mr Potter, kindly inform this class what potion you have brewed," Snape said, moving back towards Harry's desk.
"A Memory Potion, sir," Harry said. He couldn't help but feel a little smug that he appeared to be the only one who had got it right, no matter that Voldemort had done most of the work.
"Indeed. A Memory Potion. And how did you deduct that was the potion you were supposed to brew?"
"The blood smelled like anise, which makes it re'em blood, not occamy." Harry was pleased with himself. He'd managed not to think about his dick or Snape's mouth when looking up at Snape and answering the question.
Snape gave a sharp nod.
"But Memory Potions aren't in our book," Hermione said.
"I am well aware of that, Miss Granger. This lesson shows you that Potions consists of far more than merely revising a book and memorizing recipes. And seeing that only Mr Potter managed to get it right, I can't help but conclude none of you have learned anything during your sixth year." Snape turned and marched to his desk. "You are dismissed. I want twelve inches on Memory Potions this Wednesday. Potter, leave your cauldron behind."
"How did you know that?" Hermione asked suspiciously when they exited the classroom.
"Perhaps I actually learned something while using the Half-Blood Prince's book. But I'm not surprised you didn't notice that. You were too busy accusing me of cheating." Harry didn't like lying to his friends, but on this occasion he didn't mind as much, seeing as Hermione's accusations in his sixth year still stung.
"Well, I never meant - I can't believe Snape did this. He could have at least told us we'd be working on potions not in our book, so I could have visited the library last night and read up on a few things." Hermione sounded quite distressed, and Ron gave Harry a hopeless look.
*--*--*
Ron and Harry had a free hour after lunch while Hermione took off to Arithmancy. They decided to spend it outdoors, since there was still a gentle late-summer breeze, and they were well aware how quickly the weather could become cold and wet in Scotland.
They strolled up to the lake and talked about Quidditch. Voldemort kept quiet, and seeing how he didn't like Quidditch, Harry wasn't surprised by his uncommon silence. The peace and calm in his head did offer Harry the rare opportunity to see himself as the ordinary Hogwarts student, and not the hero of the wizarding world who was keeping a horrible secret.
"I'll let Ginny know you want her on the team as a Chaser," Ron said, and Harry gave him a relieved smile. It was easier if he kept away from Ginny, and even though Ron didn't know the real reason, he did seem to understand Harry's need to do so.
"And Slytherin will have an inexperienced team this year," Ron said. He threw a pebble into the clear water at their feet. "I'm sure we'll beat their arses."
"Yep," Harry said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out over the lake.
"Are you all right?" Ron asked suddenly, glancing at Harry. "I mean, you seem a little different sometimes. Is it...you know...the queer thing?"
Well, Ron, I have a Dark Lord stuck in my head, Harry thought. And Professor Snape sucked my penis, and I let Voldemort finger-fuck me up the arse.
That got him his first response from Voldemort in half an hour. A warm chuckle made the hairs on Harry's neck stand up.
He shook his head. "Not really. I mean, it's been an insane year, and now we're back here. I think I just need some time adjusting."
"Right." Ron flipped another pebble into the lake. "But how did you know? About the queer thing, I mean."
Harry frowned. His first instinct was to deny everything, but when he thought about it he really couldn't. Not anymore. He'd enjoyed having a man suck his cock. He'd enjoyed having a finger up his arse while Voldemort jerked him off. Harry wasn't sure what that made him, but completely straight wasn't it.
"I dreamed about someone," he said, staring down. Small waves licked at his shoes. "About a bloke, I mean. Doing things with him. And I kinda liked that idea."
"Ah." Ron nodded, as though he understood. "Anyone I know?"
"Huh?"
"The bloke you dreamed about?"
"No." Harry grinned. It was the truth. Ron had never met Tom Riddle. "Do you ever think of other blokes as handsome?"
Ron shrugged. "Well, I can tell if a bloke is handsome or not, I suppose. But I don't walk around thinking it all day."
Harry considered that. He didn't really walk around all day thinking it, either, but he'd always thought Sirius had been very handsome when he'd been younger, and then there was Tom Riddle. There was no getting around the fact that Harry had thought Tom was handsome. A lot. As in every time he saw the bastard.
"But you've never seen a bloke you thought was handsome and then wished you could see more of him? Like, certain parts? And then maybe want to touch those parts?" Harry asked, thinking about his little games in front of the mirror with Tom Riddle.
Ron looked at him with wide eyes. "No, I can't say I have."
"Oh." Harry frowned. "Then I think I'm really not completely straight."
"That's all right," Ron said with a firm nod. He threw a few more pebbles into the lake. "Let's get back. I told Hermione I'd meet her after her class."
They walked back towards the castle in silence. Harry felt too shocked to speak. He'd just more or less confessed to Ron he wanted to do things with certain blokes, and Ron hadn't freaked out about it. In fact, Ron seemed to take the news better than Harry himself. It still bothered him he'd actually liked doing those things with Tom and Voldemort and Snape. Or perhaps it wasn't so much the things he'd done, but the people he'd done them with.
Whatever the case, it confused Harry to no end, and he really hated feeling that way.
"Look, it's Potter the pouf."
Zabini and Nott sat on the grass under a large beech tree. Nott seemed a bit nervous, but Zabini made a show of smirking at Harry and Ron.
"Shut it, Zabini," Ron said, sounding tired.
"Defending your little fairy friend, Weasley?" Zabini leaned forward, resting his elbow on one drawn-up knee. "I bet you let him suck your dick in your dormitory."
Ron's cheeks flushed, and Harry put a hand on Ron's arm to hold him back.
"Give it a rest, Zabini," Harry said. He grinned when he saw Nott tugging on Zabini's sleeve, apparently trying to warn him.
"Don't talk to me, you fucking fag," Zabini said, and pushed himself up to his feet.
"I may be a fag, but at least I'm not a pathetic little coward like you are," Harry said, and slipped his hand in his pocket around his wand. "Honestly, I have a lot more respect for Malfoy and Goyle than I have for you. At least they picked a side, and they fought. They didn't crawl under a rock like you did, too scared to show your face because there was a war going on."
Zabini's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you're the hero, Potter. You got the medal. But I got your girl."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything to say because the idea of Zabini and Ginny together still made his chest ache. He was about to close his mouth when Voldemort took over. "You think you got my girl?" Voldemort said. "All you got are Harry Potter's leftovers."
Zabini went for his wand, but a split-second later he was jerked up in the air, feet first. Harry glanced at his side and saw Ron with his wand out.
"Let's go," Ron said, and hauled Harry away from a swearing Zabini and a hesitant Nott. "If you ever call my sister a leftover again, I will smash your face in." Ron stopped and glared at Harry.
"I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to insult Zabini," Harry stammered, unsure what the hell had just happened.
"That doesn't mean you have to insult Ginny as well. It's not her fault you're suddenly queer." And with that, Ron turned and stomped towards the entrance doors.
"You fucking bastard," Harry said when Ron had disappeared inside the castle. "What did you do that for?"
"You already gave the answer, Harry. I insulted that Slytherin boy."
"You insulted my best friend's sister." Harry kicked at the grass in frustration. "Stay out of my business. I was handling Zabini on my own."
"Yes, and one choice insult about your little girlfriend turned you into a mute and thus gave your adversary an advantage over you."
"Not everything is a battle!"
"That is where you are wrong, my little Horcrux. Life is war."
"You're insane. Don't talk to me. Just leave me alone." Harry took off towards the entrance hall, wondering how on earth he was going to make this up to Ron.
"Forget about that boy. You don't need him."
Harry couldn't resist. "He's my friend. Not that that means anything to you. You've never had a friend in your life."
"I had one. You killed her."
Stumbling, Harry came to a halt. "You mean..."
"Yes, I mean Nagini. You killed my only friend, Harry."
Somehow that extinguished some of Harry's anger. "That still doesn't give you the right to insult Ron or anyone else."
"Just be glad I'm not doing to your friend what you did to mine."
Harry didn't respond to that and continued his trek to the castle in silence.
*--*--*
"Harry, we really need to visit the Restricted Section," Voldemort said for the third time that evening. Harry ignored him and concentrated on his Potions essay. With everything Voldemort had told him during Potions that day, Harry found he had no trouble writing it. Hermione was paging through various tomes looking for information, and Ron kept trying to peek at Hermione's parchment.
The problem was, Hermione and Ron were doing those things at a table in the corner of the common room, while Harry was sitting on the couch. Ron hadn't talked to him during the rest of the day. He had apparently informed Hermione what was going on, since she kept shooting him disapproving looks.
"Harry. We must visit the Restricted Section tonight."
Shut up, Harry thought. I'm almost done with my essay. We'll go after that.
"Very well. Your essay looks good."
Harry pressed his quill down a little harder while scribbling down his final paragraph. He stuffed his parchment and quill inside his bag, shouldered it, and left the common room. He noticed Hermione staring after him. Well, if they asked questions, he could always say he was shagging some bloke from a different House.
"You will be shagging a bloke from a different House soon."
"Not now." Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag and swept it over himself. "We're not discussing sex or Snape this evening."
Voldemort remained silent until they reached the library. It was already closed for the evening, but Voldemort unlocked it easily enough with Harry's wand.
"What are we looking for?" Harry asked as they sneaked into the Restricted Section. He made sure he kept his voice down.
"Soul Magic. And any references we can find to it."
Harry allowed Voldemort to peruse the shelves while he considered Voldemort's words. "Soul Magic. It's what you talked about in the British Museum, right?"
"Yes."
"Ah. So this vessel, is it Egyptian?"
"It is."
"But Snape said no one had found it yet."
"No witch or wizard had found it until a few weeks ago."
Harry frowned, and suddenly a few things made sense, like Voldemort's request to return to the museum a few times. "You mean, this vessel, it's -- "
"Sekem's Vessel is on display in the British Museum, yes."
Harry's jaw dropped. "But then how are we going to get it?"
"Don't ask stupid questions, Harry. We're going to take it, of course."
"We can't go stealing from the British Museum!"
"Why ever not? Besides, I thought you wanted me out of your body. Surely that's worth a little burglary."
"Well, yeah, but you can't just steal from a museum. They've got security and stuff."
"We're wizards, Harry. Their security doesn't mean much when we can apparate inside."
Harry sighed. He couldn't think of anything to say to that. It was going to be one more thing to add to his private resume. Harry Potter, savior who got awarded a big honking medal, murderer, successful caster of the two of the Unforgivables, possibly queer, wank-buddies with Lord Voldemort, and coming soon, burglar!
Snickering at himself, Harry focused on what Voldemort was doing once again.
"Absolutely nothing." Voldemort shoved another dusty book back on the shelve. "Not one proper book on Soul Magic. Not even a proper book on early magical history."
"Why is that?" Harry asked. "All we ever learned in History of Magic was about stupid Goblin wars."
"Those Goblin wars influenced how the wizarding world is being governed today."
"But a lot of magic must have come from before those wars. Like ancient Egypt, as you told me."
"It does. However, it isn't of interest to our community in general. They have magic. They hardly care where it came from or how it was developed."
Harry sat down at one of the tables. "Like with dinosaurs? Wizards just aren't interested in that kind of history?"
"Tell me, Harry, how many magical museums have you seen?"
"Er...none?"
"The only museum of magical history in Europe is located in Paris. We don't even have one in Britain."
"But you're interested in it, right? You like ancient Egypt."
"Yes, my heritage stimulated me to learn more about the real history of magic."
"Ah." Harry nodded. "Being the heir of Slytherin and all."
"Yes. Early magic was developed in societies that didn't have many restrictions yet. That is why so much of it is considered Dark Arts today."
"So people would rather forget about it than study it."
"Exactly. It is a waste. People prefer to hold on to what little magic they know today so they can feel safe, instead of trying to understand the nature and possibilities of magic."
"Yeah, that seems rather strange," Harry said. He'd certainly enjoyed everything Voldemort had told him about magic in ancient Egypt. It really seemed odd no one was interested in it.
"Well, we won't find anything useful here. We must wait for Severus to finish his research."
"And what if he doesn't find anything, either?" Harry got up from the table and wrapped his cloak around him.
"I'm sure he'll find something. But if he doesn't, we'll go to Egypt ourselves if we have to."
Harry grinned. "You want to go on another holiday with me? Careful, or people might think you actually like me."
"I'll show you how much I like you when we get to bed, my little Horcurx."
Harry tripped over the hem of his cloak, and grabbed a bookcase to keep his balance. He ignored Voldemort's laughter as he fled the library.
*--*--*
The next evening, Harry made his way down to the dungeons for another few hours of remedial Potions with Snape. Classes had gone well that day. Both Hestia Jones and Fleur Delacour took their new positions very seriously and proved decent teachers. Harry enjoyed both subjects, and combined with the usual commentary from Voldemort, the classes didn't seem very difficult.
His confrontation with Nott still fresh in his memory, Harry kept a close eye on his surroundings as he navigated the narrow corridors, but he met no resistance besides his own hesitation. Was Snape going to suck his cock again? And why didn't Harry find that thought just a little bit more repulsive instead of vaguely arousing?
"We're going to see Severus for research, Harry. If he is willing to be of additional service, I don't see why we should object."
Harry could think of a few reasons why he should object, but he didn't feel like another discussion about such an embarrassing subject. He knocked on Snape's office door, and it opened a few seconds later. Snape waved him into his private rooms and Harry obediently shuffled ahead.
Snape's sitting room was packed with boxes and books and files. They were everywhere; every surface was covered, including most of the floor. Only the two chairs in front of the fireplace were left empty.
"I see you've been busy, Severus," Voldemort said, as Harry gaped at the mountains of paper.
"Indeed." Snape glanced around the room as though he couldn't quite believe it was all there. "I have borrowed this from Oxford's archeology department. It didn't even make a dent in their archive."
"You mean, we have to read all this?" Harry asked, imagining having to spend hours and hours with Snape. He did not look forward to that.
"Yes, Potter," Snape snarled. "This, and much, much more if we do not find what we are looking for on our first try. There are many more universities and museums in Britain I can visit."
Harry swallowed. "We're looking for information on Sekem's Vessel, right?"
Snape rolled his eyes and turned his back to Harry.
"We are," Voldemort said. "The problem is, however, that Muggles have no idea what Sekem's Vessel is, and thus we will not find any outright references to it. Instead we'll have to look for any information that could pertain to Sekem's Vessel."
"Then what do Muggles call it?" Harry asked.
"A food bowl from the fourth dynasty, according to the sign." Voldemort sat Harry down in one of the chairs. It was the same chair where Snape had - Harry shifted and cleared his throat.
Snape offered him a vial. "This might help with your reluctance, Potter."
"My Memory Potion?" Harry accepted it with a frown.
"No, it's an intricate poison I'm quite sure the Dark Lord will let you drink to put you out of your misery." Snape whipped around and sat down in the other chair. He downed a similar vial and picked up a nearby book.
"Drink it, Harry. It will help with research." Voldemort gave Harry's arm a little nudge, and Harry popped the cork and drank the potion. It tasted vaguely of spinach. Harry blinked a few times against the slight itch behind his eyes, and picked up a book nearest to his arm. He opened it in his lap and sat back. He stared at the text and figured Voldemort would do the actual reading, since Harry really did not know what to look for.
And sure enough, after a few minutes, Voldemort turned the page, and Harry allowed his mind to wander to other things. Now his lips itched, and he rubbed at them irritably. From the corner of his eyes he saw Snape reading. There were a few creases between his eyebrows, which were very black, as though they didn't belong to the rest of him with all his pale skin. Snape's lips were pursed, and those were the lips which had been wrapped around his cock only two nights ago.
"Harry, stop distracting me. Try to concentrate on the book instead of on Severus."
"Sorry," Harry mumbled. He stared at the text, but it all made little sense. There were a lot of names he didn't recognize. Snape turned a page, and Harry's focus shifted again. Snape had very long fingers, and the tips weren't as stained as they'd once been. Those fingers had touched his cock, those very fingers that belonged to Snape.
Snape had swallowed his semen, Harry remembered. He'd seen Snape's throat work and he'd felt Snape's tongue suck. Snape darted the tip of his tongue out, licked his index finger, and turned another page. Harry knew what that tongue felt like when it licked the head of his cock. Teased his slit. Lapped up little drops of pre-come. Harry remembered exactly what Snape looked like with his mouth full of Harry's cock, how his cheeks hollowed and his thin lips glistened and his black eyes burned with desire.
"Harry -- " Voldemort gave a restrained gasp, and suddenly Harry remembered what it was like to thrust his cock inside Snape's arse, how Snape's hips felt beneath his grasping fingers, how Snape clenched around him, how Snape sounded when he pounded inside, how Snape smelled covered in sweat and semen.
Harry was on his feet and he didn't recall getting up. He remembered how much Snape enjoyed being fucked. He stood in front of Snape, but Snape still stared down at his book. Harry put his hand on Snape's shoulder and pushed it.
Black eyes looked up, and Harry remembered what those eyes looked like when Snape begged for release.
"Potter?"
"Severus," Harry said, and leaned down to press his lips to Snape's.
"My Lord?" Snape asked, pulling away from Harry.
"No. Yes." Harry shook his head. "I feel strange."
Snape stood, and stared down at Harry with a frown. "How exactly do you feel?"
"Like this," Harry said and leaned against Snape, pressing his hard cock against Snape's hip. "I feel like fucking you. I remember fucking you."
Snape's eyebrows shot up. "My Lord?"
"No, it's me. I didn't fuck you, did I?" Harry rested his chin against Snape's chest.
"What were you concentrating on after you took the potion, Potter?"
Harry's cheeks flushed. "You. Your lips, and your tongue, and your hands, and -- "
"That's enough." Snape pushed Harry a small distance away. "My Lord, can you hear me?"
"I'm having the boy's memories."
"He's having the boy's memories," Harry repeated dutifully, and let himself slump against Snape again. "You like it when I fuck you hard, don't you?"
"Of course," Snape said, and then stared at Harry with wide eyes. "No - I meant, of course he's having your memories. And you are having his. You both are reacting to the potion, but since you are sharing one mind, something went wrong. Just sit down, Potter."
"No," Harry said, and grabbed Snape's crotch. Snape was half-hard. "I want to hear you scream."
"Potter, I have no intention of -- "
Harry grasped the sides of Snape's face and crushed his lips to Snape's. He remembered kissing Snape. He must have kissed him a hundred, no, a thousand times. He liked it. Snape didn't respond and kept his lips pursed, until Harry dragged his tongue across them. Snape seemed to come alive, all lips and tongue, and hands gripping around Harry's shoulders and down his back.
"You are going to regret this in the morning, Potter," Snape said after he drew back. He sounded particularly pleased about that.
"I don't care." Harry gave Snape a shove in the direction of his bedroom. "As long as I get to fuck you now."
Harry remembered fucking Snape the night Snape had killed Dumbledore. He'd felt so exhilarated and jubilant, he'd fucked Snape three times in a row. First against the wall with their clothes still on, then on the floor of his bedroom where he took Snape from behind, and finally in his bed where he lay atop Snape and Snape wrapped his arms and legs around him.
"Potter?" Snape had already taken off his robes and was unbuttoning his shirt. They were in his bedroom; it was just as unremarkable as the rest of Snape's rooms.
"Yeah," Harry said, and started on his own clothes. He didn't feel nervous - how could he? He'd fucked Snape often enough - though he thought perhaps he should.
Harry remembered fucking Snape for the first time, only a few weeks after Snape had come to him and he'd given Snape his mark. Snape had been a nervous, skittish boy, barely a man, and so eager to please but with no experience to aid him. All innocence in some ways, and all darkness and horror in others. He'd taken his time with Snape then. He'd gone slow and made sure Snape enjoyed it, and he'd groomed Snape to serve him privately ever since.
They were naked now, and Snape pulled him onto the bed. Snape was pale all over, with wiry limbs and sharp bones. Harry crawled on top of him as Snape spread his legs. Snape's cock was hard and flushed, and Harry wrapped his fingers around it as he'd done so many times before. Snape stared up at him, black eyes narrowed and lips parted. The corner of his mouth twitched. Harry frowned and scooted closer, the head of his cock brushing across Snape's entrance.
"What are you thinking, Potter?" Snape reached for his wand and cast a quick spell. Suddenly Harry's cock was slick and pressed inside Snape just an inch.
"How I fucked you the night I returned," Harry said, and gave a gasp when his cock slipped inside all the way.
Harry remembered fucking Snape in this new, unfamiliar body. Snape had tasted of fear and he'd begged forgiveness, but Harry hadn't given it. He'd just taken from Snape that night, fucking him and using him, and Snape had begged him for more.
"Traitor," Harry whispered, and leaned over Snape, hooking his arms around the back of Snape's knees, drawing him open. He thrust his hips, cock buried in slick heat. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against Snape's throat. It was moist with sweat and desire. "This is our little game, isn't it, Severus? You betray me time and again, and yet you cannot resist me. You cannot refuse my cock. You cannot deny my power."
Snape raked his fingers down Harry's back. It drew a sharp hiss from Harry, and he pumped his hips harder and faster. He wanted to punish Snape, he wanted Snape to know who was his real master, who'd always be his real master, not because he was stronger or more powerful than Snape, but because no matter how many times Snape betrayed him, Snape always wanted more of him.
"My little deserter. You'll never be free of me. I'll always be inside you, no matter the times you stab me in the back." Harry raked his teeth across the soft skin of Snape's throat, and thrust his cock inside as deep as he could.
And Snape met every thrust, curving his back and pushing his hips up, his cock trapped between them. Harry could hear Snape grit his teeth and he felt Snape's jaws clench, and yet Snape pulled him closer and bucked up harder, and Harry knew Snape had missed it - him - when he'd thought him dead.
"You were lost without a master, weren't you, Severus?" Harry drew his head back so he could stare down at Snape. He slowed his thrusts to long, deep motions, and reached for Snape's cock. "You need me," Harry whispered against Snape's lips. "But that is not what eats at you, what haunts you at night. No, it's the fact that you want me that blackens your soul."
Snape squeezed his eyes shut and released a strangled groan. His cock twitched and spilled in Harry's hand. Harry stroked it a few times more, and started thrusting harder and sharper, and with the knowledge that Snape was his, would always be his no matter what he tried to do, he found his release and came deep inside Snape, marking him all over again.
Harry collapsed on top of Snape, sticky and sweaty and exhausted.
"Potter?" Snape sounded hoarse.
Blinking against flickers of light and shadow, Harry tried to lift his head, but he couldn't move. He tried to talk, but there were so many voices inside his head that deafened him.
Little Amy Benson cried for him to stop, and Mrs Cole threatened him with the asylum, and Father Hughes warned him he'd go to hell if he refused to go to confession, and the Sorting Hat told him he was a true Slytherin, and Morfin called him a Muggle, and his filthy father begged for mercy, and Slughorn explained about Horcruxes, and...
There were a thousand voices in Harry's head, accompanied by a thousand images and feelings that weren't his. There was so much hate and fear it chilled him to the bone, and so much longing and craving it melted his insides, and so much triumph it burned him up.
"Potter? Can you hear me?" Snape sounded distant, as if he was speaking from five miles away.
Something cold and wet touched Harry's forehead, small drops sliding down his temples. Harry still couldn't move, couldn't even open his eyes. They were glued shut with images of Hogwarts and the basilisk and Borgin and Burks and places he didn't recognize.
"Even if I had an antidote, I couldn't give it to you, Potter. There is no predicting how you or the Dark Lord would react to it in this state. A Memory Potion usually lasts for two to three hours. You'll just have to ride it out."
Those words didn't make much sense when they were combined with memories of killing and torturing and rage and contempt. The only thing Harry knew for sure was that his head was going to explode, because there was no way it could hold so many different memories of places and people and curses and feelings and smells.
At last he recognized a face. It was his father, right before Harry killed him in the hallway of their house in Godric's Hollow. His mother was next, and she refused to step aside, so Harry killed her as well, and it made him feel so warm and content.
And when that sank in, Harry finally found his voice again. He screamed.
*--*--*
Harry woke up to the dim light of a single candle burning on a nightstand. Beside him lay a sleeping figure, and it took Harry a moment to realize it was Snape lying on top of the covers of his bed while Harry was buried beneath a heavy blanket.
Yeah, it would be really weird for Snape to crawl under the covers with him after Harry had fucked him --
Things came back in a dizzying rush, and Harry remembered everything. Everything he'd recalled or relived or experienced.
"Tom?" he whispered, unsure what had become of Voldemort. He got no reply, and that was both relieving and disturbing. "Tom? Talk to me."
"Not now, Harry."
Harry released a small sigh. Voldemort was still there, safely in his mind. "What happened? I saw - I was - I was you, Tom."
"And I was you!" Voldemort sounded positively enraged. "Every single one of your memories you forced upon me."
"I didn't do - but you already saw all of my memories. Why is that so bad?"
"Because before they were just memories. Now I - now they were real."
"Oh God." Harry remembered killing his parents. He drew the blanket up higher. "I was you. I felt everything about you. Did you -- "
"I'm not discussing this now!"
"You did, didn't you," Harry whispered. "You were me."
There was no reply, and it made Harry restless. Voldemort couldn't just ignore him like that, not after what had happened. He had questions that needed answering.
"Tom?" Harry reached out a hand, but Voldemort wasn't there. He only found a bony shoulder in a worn nightshirt. "Tom! Talk to me, dammit!"
"Potter, stop this ruckus." Snape sat up and glared at Harry.
"Er..." Harry had absolutely no idea what to say to Snape now that he'd had his penis buried in Snape's bum.
Snape sighed. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Dizzy. Tom's not talking to me. He's angry, I think."
"Oh, it's Tom now, is it?" Snape sat up a little higher and crossed his arms.
"That's what I call him. He hates it." Harry looked up at Snape with wide eyes. "What happened, Professor?"
"You dragged me to my bed and fucked me." Snape sneered. "Despite my warning you'd regret it, I might add."
"That's not what I meant." Harry knew he'd fucked Snape. And he didn't regret it. Not really, since it had felt so natural and familiar at the time. Of course, he wasn't going to tell Snape that.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, and Harry wondered if he'd kept Snape up all night. He had no idea what time it was.
"The Memory Potion is designed to improve one's memory and concentration for a short period of time, usually no more than three hours. In your case, however, the potion met not one set of memories, but two. It improved your access to one set of memories. They just weren't your own. The potion merely did its work."
"I remembered everything from his life," Harry said. He felt a bit queasy. "I remembered fucking you, killing my parents, trying to kill myself. And I liked it." His stomach roiled, and Harry leaned over the side of the bed and threw up.
"Yes, that is exactly what was missing from my already delightful night. Harry Potter puking on my floor." The mattress dipped as Snape got up.
Harry groaned; the back of his throat felt as if he'd swallowed acid. The mess beneath his face vanished, and a glass of water appeared in his line of sight.
"Drink. And then get out." Snape swept back to the other side of the bed, but his gray nightshirt just didn't have the flair his robes usually had. All it did was flutter around his skinny legs.
"What time is it?" Harry took a careful sip of water, and tried to sit up.
"Six."
"Six in the morning?" Harry jerked upright, spilling half his glass on the sheets.
"No, it is six in the evening exactly one year since you had your little Memory Potions episode, and I just left you in my bed to rot all that time." Snape swished his wand and magic breezed against Harry, drying the wet sheets. "Have you no control over yourself at all, Potter?"
"I don't feel very good." Harry sat the glass down on the nightstand, and was surprised to find his glasses there. He slid them on and started getting up out of bed with slow calculated movements. Everything hurt. Every last muscle he used ached.
"You experienced some sort of seizures," Snape said. He'd crossed his arms, but not even that made him look like the old Snape Harry had known for seven years. Harry feared nothing would ever make Snape look like his old self again now that Harry had fucked him.
"It hurts. Everything hurts," Harry whispered. He clutched at one of the bedposts as he planted his feet on the cold floor.
"I can't give you any potion for the pain. It is a risk not worth taking again. Merlin knows what it could end up doing to you both."
"I'd think you'd be eager to make me feel miserable."
"In case you forgot, Potter, I took a vow not to hurt you. Now that I know certain potions have a peculiar effect on you in your current condition, I am not taking that risk when it's my own life on the line."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, it's always about your own life, isn't it? You were bloody eager to accept that vow."
Snape looked livid. "You have been living with the Dark Lord inside your mind for weeks now, and last night you sounded exactly like him when you fucked me, Potter, and you dare question my motives in this? I don't see you doing all you can to get rid of him once and for all!"
"I can't do anything! He's there all the fucking time! He'll kill my friends if I try something, if I even think about doing something, don't you understand that?" For some reason it was very important Snape understood that, because Snape was the only person who knew what Harry was going through.
"I understand that better than you think, Potter, which is why I thank you not to question my motives. Now get out!" Snape stalked into the living room.
Harry located his clothes on a chair near the door. He wobbled towards it, and had to grab at the wall to keep his balance. He managed to get dressed, though it took him at least ten minutes. He didn't even bother trying to lace up his shoes, and instead just tucked in the laces. His fingers were too stiff.
The trip through the sitting room took him another minute, and Snape waited for him at the door impatiently.
Harry stepped inside Snape's office and turned to look at Snape. "I don't regret it," he said, carefully taking in Snape's expression. It stayed blank. "I don't regret fucking you. It was... all right."
Snape slammed the door shut in Harry's face.
Part 5