The One That Got Away
by
writing as Terrence Tripplehorn for lj's reversathon
Date: 6 July 2007
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom, Luna Longbottom, the trio
Word Count: 13,350
Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings:
[Neville is 17 - of age in the UK and Wizarding world, a mispronounced spell, Rowling Latin, a drop or two of angst and humiliation, a dollop of humour, tiny dream sequence mention of Harry/Weasley Twins, wanking, wankus interruptus, first time, bottom!Snape, blow job, coming in underpants]
Disclaimer: All the characters are Rowling's. The situations they're in are mine. No profit was made.
Summary: Ever since the night on the tower, things just haven't been the same for Snape, and getting captured and stuck with Neville & Luna at Grimmauld Place just makes things worse... or does it?
24 June 1997
Neville was using Protego quite effectively, but he wanted a good and proper hex to use against the enemy. He had to do more than just defend himself. They were attacking the school!
He fought to clear his mind enough to remember at least a couple of good spells to try. He thought he remembered a leg-binding spell Hermione had mentioned when a Death Eater aimed a hex at him! He blocked it, and a blonde head popped into and back out of his field of vision -- was that Luna? What was that spell?
"Substring--uh, L-Luna!? Snape!"
But it was not Luna, and as Snape herded Draco round the corner, Neville did not notice the gold spark that shot from his wand amidst the many other hex, curse and protection spells being cast in the corridor. Then another Death Eater suddenly loomed up, and he barely had time to cast Protego before a hex grazed his torso and he fell on his back...
18 July 1997 (the next full moon...)
"You disappoint me, Severus."
Things weren't going very well.
"You disappoint me greatly."
Things weren't going very well, at all.
Severus fell to one knee, head down, before Voldemort.
"What may I do to return to your good graces, My Lord?"
He found himself rising, thanks to the hank of his hair wrapped around Voldemort's fist. He felt himself stumbling and trying to keep walking as the Dark Lord paced in a slow and deliberate circle, holding tightly to Snape's hair.
"You might try giving me the truth about why you did not return with Malfoy's wife and misbegotten whelp."
"My Lord, Narcissa--"
"You might try giving me the truth about why you did not bring the Potter boy when you made your escape from Hogwarts."
Snape winced. "My Lord, you said--"
"Most of all, though, my dear Severus, I should very much like to know why - you - took - three - weeks - to - return?"
Each time he said 'why' was accompanied by a tightening of his fist, the removal of more of Snape's hair and sparks which flew from his wand as it poked into the base of Snape's throat.
No, things weren't going very well at all, Snape lamented as Voldemort gave up on being mercifully kind and gentle and began to use Crucio.
That same night, both Severus and Neville decided to wank, ostensibly for very different reasons, but in the end it turned out to be far different from what either had envisioned.
Snape had no access, nor current ability, to make potions that might help his pained and tortured body. The only thing he could do was indulge in a slow wank. The natural hormone release would provide him some level of pain relief. He had done this more times than he could count, and he wondered now, as he slipped his hand to his trouser placket if his former students would be surprised to learn their feared and hated Potions cum DADA professor wanked as much, or more than, they did.
He gently extricated his quiescent cock and cupped it with a bruised hand. The Dark Lord had not been at all happy with him. Still... he had not killed him, merely Crucio'd, although that was bad enough.
He'd had to submit to a thorough Legilimency session, playing back the entire, and largely fabricated, chain of events that led him from Hogwarts back to the Dark Lord's lair.
Thankfully, the Dark Lord had been somewhat amused at Severus's 'decision' to celebrate the death of Dumbledore by ditching Narcissa and Draco, exhorting them to return to their 'master', whilst heading himself to a Muggle tavern he knew where the spirits never stopped flowing and the women were more than willing.
The haziness that followed this recitation of events was blamed on a nonstop orgy of drunkenness and debauchery, something he knew Voldemort found amusing even if he did not partake of it himself. The snake lord was a pervy voyeur, Snape knew, easily reeling out more fake lusty revels for his amusement, including a truly inspired game of Crucio Whoregasm, which seemed to mitigate his anger. Instead of killing him, Voldemort had allowed Wormtail and Bellatrix to beat him, a punishment intended to humiliate him and ensure he knew his place, even if he had been the hero of the battle at Hogwarts. He was lucky, he'd been informed, that Fenrir wasn't there to partake in his punishment, it being full moon.
When they were through, he had dragged himself outside to Apparate home. Albus had been his Secret Keeper, and one of his last acts had been to place Spinner's End under Fidelius, and so his home remained safe from the Ministry and from the Order. It was the only place he had now.
He did not even bother trying to go to his bedroom. He'd collapsed onto his living room couch and caught his breath.
The pain did not diminish, so he sighed and lit the fire, and closing his eyes, reeled out an entirely different tale for himself. In it, it was not his own hand, but another's that cupped his swelling cock and caressed him. The fingers trailed along his length and slid under his foreskin to skim along his sensitive glans, and he drew in a ragged breath.
He did not direct this personal vision. He let his mind provide him what it would. His mind knew what he needed.
That hand was warm and slightly rough, and he sighed as it squeezed him then fisted his growing hardness. Sparks of sensation made him stifle a moan as that hand stroked him.
His eyes were closed, so he did not notice the sparks were real and gold, but he felt a heated tingling, and he let himself moan softly, as another hand moved up and along his torso, until it found a nipple and pinched it, and he opened his eyes, shaken. For a moment, it had felt like another was with him, but he was alone, so he closed his eyes and returned to his fantasy.
He was being stroked; his bollocks cradled. Fingers caressed just behind them, not quite stroking his anus. He was panting now, trying not to thrust his sore hips up and into that grasp.
"Harry," he moaned, and then opened his eyes, glaring into the dark, dropping his cock and grabbing his wand to shout, "Lumos!"
He sneered. "Accio cloak!"
Nothing happened. There was no one in his living room. So what the devil had just happened, he wondered now.
Why had he called out the name of his most hated pupil?
Not that far from Spinner's End, in Longbottom Manor in the Yorkshire Dales, Neville tried to stop coming as he heard Snape's voice call out "Lumos!" in his bedroom.
It was useless, of course, and he had to finish jerking and trembling through his orgasm before he could reach his wand and look about the room, but no one was there. What was wrong with him?
Neville felt shame heat his face. Perhaps, it was just that he'd allowed himself to indulge in a spot of wanky hero worship?
He would die before admitting it, but he didn't always think of girls when he wanked, and these last two years, as he'd watched Harry mature and become a compactly muscled and competent leader he'd walk through fire for, he'd found himself having little fantasies about him. He could not help it, and he would never do anything about it, but he'd been saving up these fantasies most of the school year and had decided to indulge in a Harry Potter inspired wank, now that he was safely home.
Instead, he had been just about to spurt when he'd clearly heard Snape's voice. What was wrong with him?
The incident was enough to make Snape keep his hands off himself for a fortnight, although, to his growing sense of unease, he found himself suffering wet dreams of both type and quantity that he'd not experienced since he'd been a spotty teenaged boy.
Rarely the same twice, he found himself waking up shuddering and spunking to visions of nubile young females, all ex-students of his, making him feel like a very dirty old man, indeed. Then there were the other dreams, the ones involving Potter, and for some reason, the Weasley twins, usually wearing Quidditch gear.
This morning, he'd woken up crying out Potter's name again. The dream had featured both Potter and the Weasley twins and what they did with the beaters' bats was highly irregular, not to mention unsanitary. He did not wish to know where his mind came up with the idea of what they did with the snitch. He wondered now, if he was, in fact, losing his mind.
It was possible. Stress could do that. He had been under a great deal of stress for years. He had just had to complete the hardest task of his life less than two months ago. Maybe he had gone round the twist. If so, why the sex dreams?
He had a healthy Wizard's libido, which is to say, since Wizards lived twice as long as Muggles, the libido of a Muggle half his age. Still, nightly wet dreams and needing to wank at least twice every day was a bit much.
He considered his depleted potions ingredients and dwindling funds and finally decided on Muggle methods. Today, he promised himself, he would drag out one of the many bottles of Firewhisky that Albus and Filius and Minerva had all given him for the holidays over the years, and get pissed as a pickled newt.
Neville was trying to listen to Dunbruxl, the Goblin in charge of Estates, Inheritances and Cross-generational Cursed Artefacts.
He was at Gringott's without his grandmother, for a change, because Dunbruxl had sent a letter informing him his presence was required as regarded his parent's estate, a matter that needed attending to prior to his 17th birthday, when he'd come of age.
It turned out he would become sole inheritor of his parent's accounts, as well as become de facto guardian and conservator of their affairs. Since they were still alive, but had been medically determined to be incompetent, all that remained was his approving and paying for Gringott's to legally certify the same, by way of sending their own investigators to assess his parents. He had to sign the documents, approve the transfer of funds, and finally accept the envelope with the keys to his parents' vaults, which would remain sealed until midnight on the 29th of June.
That was all well and good, but apparently, there was no small amount of ceremony to go through, and Neville was feeling a bit... odd.
He wondered if luncheon had not settled well, because his vision was a little bit swimmy, and he felt strangely light-headed. He cleared his throat, fidgeted in his seat, and wondered why the goblins kept their offices so warm.
"So if you could re-affirm your signature with your initials in this, this, this and this box?"
"Whuh? Oh, yeah. Sure."
Neville blinked owlishly at the quill extended to him. He tried to grab it. For some reason, he missed. This made him giggle a bit nervously, and when he saw the stern expression on Dunbruxl's face, he began to laugh. Dunbruxl reminded him of Snape and the image of a tiny goblinish Snape in that harsh green wool, oversized pointy-toed shoes and a monocle was just too much for him. He began to howl.
"Mr. Longbottom!"
He laughed harder, easily hearing Snape in that growly voice and wound up wheezing for breath against the back of the uncomfortable chair, looking down at the disgruntled Dunbruxl, which, unfortunately, made him howl again.
"You cannot sign if you are not in your right mind. Since you are clearly inebriated, you will return in two days time. We will owl you a reminder. Good day."
Neville nodded, trying to indicate his understanding, but he was being levitated out of Dunbruxl's business office, which made him laugh all the harder, and outside of Gringott's proper, where he was none-too-gently deposited on the steps overlooking Diagon Alley. There he sat swaying and giggling to himself for several moments before standing and weaving his way to the Leaky Cauldron and the use of their Floo.
The second morning following his booze-up, Snape woke congratulating himself. There had been no strange wet dreams, no waking up hard as a beater's bat hungry for the bludger, only sweet, blissful sleep. It was just what he needed.
Then his head exploded.
The rush of icy pain sparked throughout his skull and he swore he felt arctic air rushing out his ears.
What was going on?
Before he could really worry about it, he found himself jittering with near-manic tension. He had to do something.
"There. We'll have no more of you going to serious meetings in a drunken and disgraceful state."
Neville merely nodded, miserably trying to ignore the aftereffects of unnecessary Pepper-Up Potion that his grandmother had given him. He jittered now with nervous tension and hurried to the door before she could give him anything else.
"Now, go!" Her customary screech followed him down the hall. "Off with you! And don't bring disgrace to our good name, boy!"
Snape Scourgified the house, top to bottom. He set rags to dusting and polishing, took the bedding, towels and his clothes to the launderette down the road, mostly because he preferred the scent of soap-cleaned laundry to the rather bland smell that laundering spells left behind. He used ironing and creasing spells when he returned, and cleaned the kitchen manually as his mother had always done. Then he made bangers, fried tomatoes, chips and tea... but it was still too early for luncheon.
Now his body reminded him he had gone two whole days without some form of sexual release. He wondered now, if male wizards hit some sort of sexual peak later in life. Perhaps it was different for them than for Muggles. He had no one he could ask. Even if his mother were still alive, he could not have spoken to her about such things. Wizarding texts were notorious for avoiding such information.
Oh, sex magic and arcane rituals you could find. You could learn how to best your enemies using orgasm denial or a potion including semen, but you could not read a simple text about sexuality. Such books were considered taboo and reputable dealers did not sell them.
Fortunately, Snape rarely used reputable dealers and late morning found him going over an old medical text he'd acquired during his apprenticeship, manfully striving to ignore his erection.
Neville thought his Uncle Alufontz would never leave!
He'd been forced to listen to two hours of mind numbingly dull discussion on the trading practices of Pakistan and the Sudan as regarded his uncle's wool and textile business, a discussion his grandmother listened to politely, as she sipped her nearly lethal tea.
Near the start of the conversation, when it became clear neither his grandmother nor his uncle cared whether he took part in it or not, Neville let his mind wander.
Unfortunately, it wandered to the fact he'd had too much tea and his prick was reminding him he needed the loo, and possibly a good wank. He had not had a wank for two days.
This did not help the state of his trousers, and he sat, wincing from time to time, as his uncle babbled on, and his prick twitched hopefully and began to slowly leak lubrication into his smalls. He could not, he knew, ask to be excused. The lecture his grandmother would later give him would not be worth it.
His uncle usually visited for two hours or so and then left, a dutiful relative, coming every two weeks.
Neville groaned as he thought about anyone coming. His trousers were an agony!
Snape gave up reading the worthless text and stomped upstairs to his bedroom, ripping off his clothes and giving in to this restless, yearning need.
He lay back on his bed and lifted one leg up and, without preamble, gently inserted one finger back, back, deeper, oh, yes...
Severus groaned as he stroked his own prostate, even as his other hand fisted his cock and ever so slowly began to milk it.
Neville managed to cover his spontaneous ejaculation with a cough, which, thankfully, made his room temperature tea spill right into his lap. He had never felt anything quite like that sensation before.
"Clumsy child!"
"Sorry, gram!"
He hurriedly got up, even as Augusta Longbottom called for a house-elf, and excusing himself from their company, Neville rushed up the stairs to his room.
Snape lay on his bed, head spinning. He was not normally that short on the trigger. Perhaps, it was some sort of Wizarding sexual peak, and he had simply gone too long without providing his body needed release?
Either way, the orgasm had been explosive and very necessary, and he curled onto his side and fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming, for some reason, of beautiful and exotic foreign women all sipping tea and talking about fabric.
Neville had never been happier to have a birthday. It was not presents he wanted, it was freedom. He was 17 now, and able to make his own decisions, and be out from under the thumb of his overbearing grandmother.
Not that she didn't love him; he knew she did, and she had become a lot more easy to get along with since the battle at the Ministry at the end of his fifth year, but she still saw him as a boy, and he wasn't, not anymore.
Thus, it was with a clear and happy heart that he finished his birthday dinner with his grandmother, thanked her, then took his rucksack and told her not to worry, that he had to help Harry Potter. She sent him off with a kiss and proud tears in her eyes.
She wouldn't be quite so proud now, he thought as he looked at his dirty hands.
The Order of the Phoenix was busy preparing for the war. The early skirmishes had been nothing compared to the battle at the school that the Death Eaters had won with the death of the Order's beloved leader.
The members of Dumbledore's Army or DA who were fully aware of events -- and who wished to help Harry and/or the Order and were able to do so by dint of being of age or able to reason with their parents or guardians -- were very few indeed. Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Luna, and Neville, himself, were the only ones who were able to assist.
Headmistress McGonagall was busy at the Ministry, at first arguing to keep Hogwarts open. The Ministry and public opinion was against her, and she and the other like-minded teachers had been fighting an uphill battle. They had finally capitulated to Ministry imposed rules. So now they were busy trying to set all the things in place the Ministry was requiring for the school to remain open. This made her, and the Auror's assigned to the school, far too busy to even come to Order headquarters, or Grimmauld Place, and without a nominal head, the Order was a bit fragmented.
Harry, Ron and Hermione, were, of course, currently busy trying to find information or some artefact or other that might help them. Neville was not exactly sure which, but it hardly mattered; he knew they would not welcome his presence on their mission. The Weasley twins had their shop to operate. Lee had become the DA's procurement officer, finding or borrowing what was needed, from food and drink to secondhand wands and Pixie repellent. He also served as a messenger or delivery person when the use of a Patronus charm was not feasible.
This left Neville and Luna without anything useful to do. Neville being just barely of age and considered something of a liability, despite the fact his Defence against the Dark Arts skills were considered well up to snuff. Luna, being just barely under age, was still not allowed out on her own. She was also considered something of a liability, smart as the sting of a whip, but a bit too eccentric for most of the DA's comfort.
Harry, who was younger by one day than Neville, but head of Dumbledore's Army, had solved the problem by asking Neville to remain with Luna at headquarters, or Grimmauld Place, and mind the house and relay messages. He tactfully asked Luna to do research in the Black family library on any useful spells.
Luna had contentedly tucked her wand behind her ear and her feet on the couch, next to a stack of books, a pot of ink, a quill, some parchment, a pot of tea, and a plate full of sliced apples and mixed nuts. Neville had startled a nest of hibernating doxies on the landing and ended up cleaning doxie droppings all afternoon.
He studied his filthy hands, which even Scourgify had been unable to clean, and trudged upstairs toward a bathroom, wondering if he would ever be able to do anything to truly help in the war effort. Still, at least he could have a nice toss-off whilst he was upstairs; a thought that cheered him immensely.
Snape had ceased to question his newfound libido. He merely gave in to it.
He woke hard now each morning, when he didn't wake up spunking his bed sheets. Much as when he had been a teenager, he let his body tell him when it needed to wank. Thankfully, it seemed to be at relatively regular intervals around which he could plan.
He now ignored the odd fantasies that seemed to creep into his mind, tried to focus on the sensations, instead. He could do nothing about his dreams, but at least Harry sodding Potter didn't feature in all of them. Sometimes it was just the Weasley twins in their Quidditch gear doing filthy things with brooms.
Snape brewed lubricant. Lots of lubricant.
The next day following Neville's arrival at Grimmauld, Luna was in the same place, with different books and a plate full of currant scones next to the tea. Neville had Scourgified the first and second floor rooms and Evanescoed the many rug bugs.
The third day, Luna began to re-sort the books into specific categories and make a catalogue over tea and some Muggle biscuits Lee had pilfered. Neville had boxed up several closet skeletons and buried them in the family plot in the back of the house. Since a few tried to sneak back inside, this took several attempts and a final random scattering before he was successful.
The fourth day, Luna was making a cross-reference sheet and Neville decided to find something besides endless household tasks to accomplish... something he actually enjoyed as much as Luna seemed to be enjoying her research... something to which he was uniquely suited.
His musings led him to the roof, which was where he discovered a rather shabby and depressing looking glasshouse. It was full of dead and rotting plants of all kinds. In its heyday, it must have been quite something, he thought. Now it was a monument to the Black family's predilection for the Dark.
The only plants that still thrived were a Venomous Tentacula and an Everlasting Mortelicious vine, both quite lively and on opposite ends of the glasshouse. Nothing else between them had survived, aside from the thriving colony of Bloodsap plants that each seemed to be slowly picking and eating.
The Black glasshouse was a wreck, in other words, and Neville was delighted.
His smile grew wider and wider. Now this he understood. This he knew. This he could do. He looked into a ramshackle shed by the glasshouse and found the tools he would need.
Pulling his wand from his pocket, he headed toward the glasshouse door near the Everlasting Mortelicious, canvas sack in his other hand...
Snape looked out his kitchen window and considered the garden. It had been his mother's garden, and now he pondered all the things he could grow, not just foodstuffs, but potion ingredients.
Yes, he should start a garden. He should start one this very instant. He did not question the impulse. He fetched a piece of parchment and a quill and began to make a list. First, there was the work that needed doing to prepare the ground. Then there was the consideration of what to plant.
His mother had sworn by Irish sweet peas, particularly Cooltonagh's, and, of course, there was always Mr. Fothergill's for discerning Muggle and Magical folk.
Neville did not want to leave Luna alone in the place, although, he knew she probably would not mind, but he strongly felt if she did not accompany him, then someone else should remain with her at headquarters.
Therefore, he was grateful when Lee showed up the following day. He brought news that Remus was still recovering from his monthly bout of Lycanthropy, having been injured by another werewolf. The Weasleys had taken most of the family on vacation, with the exception of the twins, and had headed to Paris to visit Bill and his new wife. So, unless they needed anything, he said, he was going to spend time at the twins' shop.
Neville asked if he would not mind remaining at the house for a couple of hours whilst they shopped. Lee amiably agreed.
Neville asked Luna, who was glad of a chance to step out, even if it was just to get gardening supplies. Grabbing his wallet and assuring Lee they would return by evening, he took Luna's arm and Apparated.
Lee stretched out on the sitting room couch and fell instantly asleep.
Of the various ways Severus had imagined being captured, either by the Order or by Aurors, being discovered by Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood inside Whiteleys Garden Centre with one arm carrying a sack of manure and the other, a box of paving stones, was most definitely not anywhere near the list at all.
"Are you sure, Luna?"
"We can't call the Ministry, Neville. Not only would they ask lots of questions and Kingsley and Tonks and Moody are all on assignment, but the others aren't Order members. We can't even say where we're staying," she pointed out now, reminding him of the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place. "Besides, Harry wants him questioned. This way, we can hold him until Harry decides what to do, and we can give him to the Aurors later."
Snape said nothing, not that he could, having had Silencio cast on him. He glared, however, at the two of them from his position on the floor of Neville's room, bound with Incarcerous.
Initially, though, he'd been Stupefied by the quick-thinking Luna at the garden centre. She had then made Neville pick up the professor's purchased items and, tucking her wand behind her ear again like a pencil, and grabbing Snape's wand and tucking it into her waistband, informed the concerned Muggles that their 'uncle' suffered dizzy spells and they were going to take him straight home, the poor thing.
Once out of site in the car park, they had Apparated straight to Grimmauld where Luna had cast Incarcerous, then Levicorpus and calmly floated him upstairs and past the loudly snoring Lee. Neville merely followed, content to take her lead, but nervous of the fact the most notorious of Death Eaters was now under the same roof as them... and in his room, which is where Luna had taken him.
"Silly, you're both boys. I can't have him in mine, especially when I undress for bed," she had responded to his inquiry as to why she had placed him there. "And we can't put him anyplace else. All the other rooms are locked or already assigned. You have room. I can even transfigure something into a cot, if you don't mind?"
Neville had merely shaken his head and she quickly changed an old trunk at the foot of his bed into a natty cot that looked to be very comfortable.
"But we can't have him tied up all the time. How will he eat and sleep and... well, use the toilet?"
Luna considered this and looked at the still-glaring Snape. She sighed, and then reached for her wand.
She lifted it, Snape staring at her with no small amount of alarm as she twirled it around in a wide arc above her head and then pointed it at him as she firmly intoned, "Innoxio!"
Instantly, the bindings on him fell away and he gasped. Neville let him stand, but had pulled his own wand out and kept it trained on him.
"What did you do, Luna?"
"The Innoxius charm, it has to be refreshed every day, but it makes the person it's cast on harmless to everyone the caster holds dear. He can't cast any harmful spells or spells with harmful intent here. With the anti-Apparition charms Hermione set up, he can't Apparate, and the Floo is closed."
"What's keeping him from just walking out of here?"
Luna rolled her eyes. She cast yet another spell, a Tracking Charm this time. "Satisfied? Now, even if he goes, we can follow."
"I still don't trust him," Neville admitted.
"Oh, you can't trust him, but you can be sure he won't harm any of us or cast harmful spells or spells with harmful intent. We could even give him back his wand."
She was about to do that very thing, when Neville quickly took the wand from her and put it in his pocket. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"It'll be all right, Neville. Watch." To his horror, she looked over the Snape who was rubbing at his arms and said, "Go ahead, sir. Try to hurt Neville."
Snape rolled his eyes, looking pointedly at Neville's wand. Neville jumped when Luna rolled her own eyes and walked straight to Snape's side.
"Try to hurt me then. Or take my wand to use it against us."
"Luna!"
Nevertheless, she was right. Snape trembled, lifted a hand briefly, and then put it down. He looked aside, an expression of disgust on his face.
She walked back to Neville. "See?"
"But how will we keep him here?"
Luna smiled brightly. "I was thinking I'd bind him to the house."
Snape began saying something urgently, but the Silencio spell was still working, and Neville was ignoring Snape for staring at Luna.
"Domi Adligo!"
Again, the spell glowed gold for a moment, before fizzling and the energy seemed to bounce from Snape and die a crackling death reminiscent of cold water hitting a hot stove. Luna frowned, going through one of her many books as Neville kept his wand trained on the scowling Snape.
"That is very odd. It seems that Professor Snape is already bound."
Neville considered this. "Maybe it's to do with his Dark Mark."
"No, this is different. I know I read something about it. Oh, here... 'castee cannot be prior bound' la la la, oh, well, that could explain it."
She turned her cornflower blue eyes back to Snape and lifted her wand.
"Revelo Adnexium!"
Snape gasped soundlessly as the spell seemed to whirl about his pelvis and lift him briefly, stirring his hair and then twirled like a whirlwind across the room to settle on... Neville. Who gasped as the whirlwind twirled his hair and whirled about his shoulders and down, around his hips. He flushed as it made him go hard.
"There. You see?" Luna smiled at them both. "You're already bound."
Snape glared now at Neville, who stood perplexed.
"What?"
Snape gesticulated at Luna who waved her wand to cancel the Silencio. He cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Miss Lovegood. Whilst generally correct, I am afraid you used the wrong verb. We are not bound. It appears that Mr. Longbottom and I are bonded."
"When did you bind me to you, Longbottom? And why?"
Neville frowned. "I didn't! At least, I can't think I did. I don't even know how."
"Per the book, the type of bond is revealed and since it started at Professor Snape's groin and settled on yours-"
"I ask again," Snape said now, clearly unsettled and angry. "Why are we bonded? Such a thing did not happen accidentally."
Neville considered this, thinking back. Snape interrupted his thoughts.
"I've been having... symptoms of this bond... for weeks."
Suddenly Neville remembered how he thought he had heard Snape in his room as he was wanking and he grew scarlet. Snape's eyes narrowed.
"I take it you have had similar... symptoms."
Neville nodded miserably and repeated, "I really don't know how it happened. If I did do it, I didn't do it on purpose."
"Well, I certainly didn't do it."
"Did you try to cast any new or different charms during the battle at the school, Neville? You used to have trouble with them during our training practice."
Neville frowned. "Maybe. I don't really remember."
"Think, Longbottom. Do you think I want to be bonded to you?"
Neville finally grew angry.
"Do you think I want to be bonded to you? I told you - I don't know how it happened and I didn't do it on purpose. If I even did it. Maybe someone else did it."
"Why the devil would someone decide to bond us?"
"Why do Death Eaters do anything they do?"
Snape's face grew outraged, and Neville drew his wand, but Snape blinked and settled back, a strange expression on his face. Luna smiled.
"See? The Innoxius charm."
Neville put his wand away when Snape refused to even look at him and he finally sighed.
"I'm going to go get the stuff we weren't able to get. If you think you'll be all right? Or I can wake Lee."
She waved a hand at him, utterly unconcerned.
"I'm fine. Professor Snape won't harm me or anyone else I hold dear."
"Yes, you've made me the perfect whipping boy, have you not, Miss Lovegood?"
She arched a brow at him then kept reading, not deigning to answer.
Neville looked between the two of them and finally asked, "What do you mean?"
Snape crossed his arms.
"The Innoxius charm was created, oddly enough, for use when visiting relatives. It ensured family harmony existed during family visits or reunions. No matter how badly provoked the person under the charm is, they cannot respond in a hostile or inimical manner. It was usually cast, though, on both sides of the family, not on an individual."
"So--"
"You could even strike me, Mr. Longbottom, and I would not be able to do anything to retaliate," Snape admitted acidly.
Neville felt a twinge of guilt, as well as an uneasy sensation as he recalled one baffling recent incident.
"Wait. Did you get drunk a week and a half ago, on the 24th of July?"
Snape frowned. After a moment, he nodded.
Neville looked relieved, then concerned.
"I don't know about not being able to retaliate then, if we're bonded," he essayed, getting up to head to the door. He paused in the doorway. "But that's just me. I can't speak for the rest, especially Harry."
Snape's expression grew sour after Neville left and he turned finally to Luna.
"I hope you will turn some attention toward this bond, specifically breaking it. I would like it lifted immediately."
Luna shook her head. "I don't think so. Being bonded to Neville is as good as being bound to the house. Besides, it can't have worked unless you both had some sort of strong feelings for each other."
He scowled. "Anger and loathing?"
"Those would work," she replied blithely, still sifting through her book. She kept speaking as if it did not really matter. "Considering it's a sexual bond of some sort, those feelings might even transmute into something more pleasant for you both."
Snape looked as if he wanted to commit some act of violence, but the Innoxius charm made even his glare soften and he finally just looked away from her, an unhappy expression on his face.
Neville hoped Harry would finish his task soon. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to deal with Snape, and he really hoped Luna would find some way to break the bond between them, although, he conceded that it was currently very helpful.
She refreshed the Innoxius charm before breakfast every day, and then they would tuck in.
Thanks to their bond and his proximity, Neville could now easily feel Snape, sense where he was and his general condition. He knew, for example, how much pain Snape was in when he woke, a condition that startled him, especially when Severus did not complain. He knew now when Snape was hungry and even what he found especially pleasing to the taste. He could almost feel for himself the immense relief and relaxation Snape found in a good steaming hot cup of tea with honey, and definitely sensed how good the heat felt to his aching hands.
Was it rheumatism? he wondered, or some side effect of having been cursed so often by Voldemort?
This peculiar sensitivity, naturally, led to some uncomfortable moments, especially after Neville realised Snape could also sense him. It bothered him to know Snape was sensing his morning glory, and that he must know when Neville retired to the lav to wank, not merely use the facilities. Not as much, though, as when he sensed Severus's own need to wank, a need the man ruthlessly ignored in a way Neville knew he could not, but then he was only just of age and still a slave to his body's hormones.
Snape said little, beyond the necessary, and had even taken over the cooking since neither Neville or Luna were inclined to do more than wait for whatever Lee brought over for the day. Lee had, at first, been startled and alarmed at Snape's presence, but quickly been apprised of the particulars and had even accepted a grocery order from the taciturn man. He agreed with Neville privately about the necessity of keeping this information secret for now, at least until Harry's return.
That was not the only area where Snape opted to help. Neville found he was grateful for the help, even if it came from an unconventional source. The glasshouse was coming along nicely.
Watching Snape spread manure and aerate the soil beds with his bare hands, and encounter an unexpected and disgruntled Bubotuber bulb, was also worth much personal discomfort.
Neville felt a bit odd taking a shower with another man in the room. He had not been on the Quidditch team at school, so he did not have any frame of reference. The dorm bathrooms had private stalls with curtains and they had been careful of each others' privacy.
Snape did not seem to care, not looking at him, merely sitting on the toilet with the lid down, waiting for his turn. He was covered in manure and streaks of Bubotuber pus. Neville abruptly felt bad for not letting Severus go first, since he was only slightly dirty.
Neither seemed to consider that Snape might have waited outside the bathroom. Neville only thought about not wanting to trail any more manure than was necessary, through the house. Snape did not think, nor did he question his impulse to remain in Longbottom's presence. He knew of their still undetermined bond, but he was unaware of the fact that it was asserting itself thanks to proximity.
What he was aware of was how very nicely, indeed, his former student had filled out. Neville was tall and broad-shouldered, slim-hipped and had a lovely body with many intriguing freckles.
Snape looked away, fighting an unwanted erection. He did not want Longbottom to sense his arousal via their bond.
Neville was scrubbing vigorously and the steam fogged his view of anything interesting, so he was able to turn his thoughts elsewhere... until Neville stepped out of the stall, looking for a towel to dry off.
Snape swallowed hard and studied his shoes, missing Neville pointing at the stall.
"It's all yours."
Neville frowned a little as Snape hesitated, then stood. He wondered if he would have to urge Snape to undress, but the man was already unbuttoning, although very slowly. As he began to carefully fold each article of clothing, Neville realised he did not know he was planning to take the clothes and have them laundered.
"Just leave them on mine. They need washing, as they're pretty badly soiled."
"What am I to wear then? Those are the only clothes I have."
Neville looked at the growing pile of clothes, then looked at Snape again, feeling bad. Snape had been wearing the same things now for three days without complaint... and the work on the glasshouse had not exactly been refreshing the day before.
I should have thought of that!
He assessed Snape. His former teacher, Neville suddenly realized with surprise, was now a couple of inches shorter than he was. This made him suddenly remember his third year, and the Boggart Snape looming over him, and he blinked. He was now taller than his Boggart. This thought made him smile.
"I, uh, have something that should fit. It'll do."
"Very well."
Snape turned and dropped his pants and trousers, back to Neville, and stepped into the shower, sighing as he felt it start to sluice away the dirt and pus. He eventually turned to put his back to the water, closing his eyes.
Neville, still stunned at the look of that taut, perfectly formed arse, watched now as Snape threw his head back, allowing the water to drench his hair. Neville swallowed as he watched the water cascade down that long pale throat, over that prominent larynx and down that surprisingly broad, flat-muscled chest. The water continued downward to... Neville gulped.
Snape was half-hard and his cock already looked uncomfortably thick and heavy. He dared not imagine it fully erect.
When Snape began to scrub his chest, Neville shook out of his reverie and sent the clothes down to the washroom. Then he went to his room and got some clean clothes for them both.
That night, Severus's need felt like a burning coal to Neville. It made him stiff as a stick and his bollocks throbbed in near pain as the moments stretched long in the dark. Still, Snape made no move whatsoever to relieve his condition. He lay on his cot as if content, waiting for sleep, staring up at the ceiling.
"Y-you should do something about that," Neville finally stammered, feeling his face heat up. "Otherwise, neither one of us will get any sleep."
"I'll thank you to remember, Longbottom, that it is my body and my choice. Good night."
Neville stifled a groan of frustration and turned. The action made his pyjama bottoms twist and nearly undid him. He swore and threw off the bedcovers, heading for the lav.
He wasn't going to think about it. He was just going to use the facilities and take care of matters, he told himself. It was not his fault he was randy, and it was stupid to ignore it just because of Snape. After all, Snape wanked, too. He had been Neville's age once. He knew how it was and if he dared to say anything Neville would have some words of his own to say, and in front of Luna and Lee, to boot!
In the dark of the room, Severus stopped trembling from the backlash of exquisite sensation Neville had inadvertently sent him. He knew where the boy was going. He knew what he was going to do, although, that did not stop him from gritting his teeth in sweet agony as he felt the delicious sensations through the bond.
He found himself thrusting his hips and finally threw off his bedcovers, knowing he might well soil them otherwise. He only just managed to get his aching cock free of his underwear when the semen erupted from him, the sensation reverberating between them thanks to their proximity.
Snape groaned as his penis continued to twitch, utterly untouched, and thin white streaks decorated his belly. Soon nothing but a thin dribble of translucent goo, the consistency of egg white, oozed from him, and he began to catch his breath.
He just barely had time to cast a wandless cleansing charm and throw his blankets back up and around him when Neville returned, looking flushed, but otherwise unashamed and also no longer aroused. The boy clambered into his bed, curled up under the covers and fell asleep.
It took Severus rather longer so to do.
"It can't be helped. My father needs me right now."
Neville wasn't pleased with the thought of being alone with Snape, regardless of what spells had been cast to ensure safety.
"It's just--"
"You know how to cast the charm. The bond will keep him from hurting you in any case. I'm taking his wand like you asked. It'll be fine," Luna insisted, hefting her purse and smiling at them both. "I'll be back as soon as we have the next issue to the printers. Two days at most."
She touched one of her radish earrings, twisted it, and disappeared in a flash.
"All we've got are leftover bangers, some bread, and several tins of beans, sardines and a jar of low fat spread. Mr. Jordan has not been by in a few days. I hope he returns soon."
Neville considered his ex-teacher and suddenly realized the true power of the Innoxio. Luna and he had been eating what this man, this Death Eater, fixed, without the least bit of worry he would poison them.
He suddenly wanted answers to questions he was vaguely surprised he had not asked before.
"Why did you do it?"
Snape turned, pan in hand, and frowned. "I beg your pardon?"
Neville leaned back against the counter and clarified, "The headmaster. Why did you do it?"
Suddenly, Neville felt unease and his stomach clenched. No, it was Snape's stomach, and he felt a horrible wave of regret and guilt and self-loathing, and a looming, black sense of doom mixed with anxiety and a grim determination. Then Snape cleared his throat.
"I had to."
Neville frowned, but did not say anything else. The memory of the feeling he had sensed stayed with him for the rest of the day.
It happened late the next morning in the glasshouse where Neville was carefully planting medicinal herbs of various kinds, and Severus was handing him the tiny seedlings from a tray full of wee cartons.
He suddenly dropped the foxglove he was holding and gripped his arm... his left arm.
Neville could feel the burning streaks of agony on his own arm and gasped. Without thinking, he grabbed Snape's arm... and they both screamed.
Their bond flared to full life, racing through them and back to the point they were connected. Then Neville gasped for breath as he could feel the pain recede, even as Snape continued to scream, tendons on his neck sticking out in tight relief, back arched as he clutched at his arm.
Neville's hand felt wet and he realized he was still holding Snape. With horror, he noticed blood welled between his fingers.
It was not just blood, either, but it smoked and where it dripped the ground turned black. He could still feel Snape's agony, but it was dim, which troubled him. Whatever it was, it was not harming him, Neville noted. His hand did not even feel hot.
"Snape!" he screamed now, using his other hand to steady him. It was the oddest sensation, but it seemed to him as if Snape was somehow receding from him.
Suddenly terrified, he clutched tighter to him, pulling him down, into the dirt, and on instinct, he threw himself atop the still screaming, squirming man.
"Hold on!" he screamed, pressing Snape into the freshly tilled earth, unmindful of the tiny seedlings they'd just planted, straddling him now and using his hands to hold him down, one hand still on his Dark Mark, the other holding his upper right arm down and to the dirt. Blood continued to seep, and whatever magical poison Voldemort forced from his foul tattoo.
Neville felt Snape's struggles growing less frantic and realised those black eyes were fixed on him, wide with fear and wet with tears of pain. Neville managed a smile.
"It's all right," he told Severus, meaning it. "I won't let him hurt you."
He did not know why he said this. He did not know if he could even keep such a promise, but it was what slipped from his mouth now and Snape shuddered, then to his surprise, nodded.
Tears slipped down those pale, austere cheeks to the fresh soil below and Neville leaned closer.
"It'll be all right," he repeated huskily, lips nearly touching Snape's and Severus lifted his head to bridge the gap.
Not quite a kiss, it was nonetheless electrifying to them both. Power whipsawed through them from this point and sizzled between Neville's fingers on Snape's still bleeding arm.
Someone moaned and both could feel the desire coming to life, springing to fruition between them. Two erections met and pressed together, and both men ignored it for the headier sensations each found in their bond's full activation.
Neville dipped closer and truly kissed Snape now, licking along his lips and moaning as Snape's own tongue met his and dueled with it. He could feel Snape thrusting his hips up, his whole body trying to touch Neville's, and groaned.
For Snape, the force of the bond was driving away the pain, the rage, the horrible sense of doom and fear and vindictive anger that the Dark Lord seemed to instill in him through the mark on his arm. To obey it was normally paramount, but now... now it seemed to recede, the feelings distant as this new feeling asserted itself.
He felt more tears sliding from his eyes at the realization that these feelings were somehow pure, free of taint, fresh and green as the tiny life they had been trying to nurture in the new soil beneath them. They seemed to wash through him, and somehow he was better for it, somehow not so old and careworn and bitter. Old slights played through his mind and receded to insignificance. He thrust up and into this feeling, wanting it, hardly daring to believe it could be his, accepting it with all his being.
Suddenly Snape threw his head back and Neville could only watch as Severus unraveled beneath him, issuing forth into his pants even as the sensation reverberated through them both, even as he joined him, coming hard, semen flooding his smalls and cementing their bond.
They remained unaware that as Severus wept and came, as his Dark Mark bled into the soil and was absorbed by the earth, Voldemort began to vomit bile black as tar, and grew so ill that his Death Eaters were afraid for their master.
Neither said anything as they stepped into the house and climbed up the stairs. Neither spoke as they entered the bathroom together and began to strip their filthy clothes off.
Evidence of what they had done was smeared on their bellies and hips, but they ignored it to climb into the shower stall together, gasping as one as the water began to wash down over them and carry away the dirt.
Neville moved first, taking Snape's arm in his again to look at the Dark Mark. A faint outline existed, lined with blood, and as Neville gently wiped at it, he noted the outline was thin, like a scrape against the skin. The mark otherwise had no colour.
"I don't know how you did it, Lon-- Neville. However, the dark presence in my mind is gone. I can still feel him, distantly, but he is not invading my thoughts."
"I didn't do anything," Neville demurred; uneasy with what had happened, even as he accepted it.
Snape did not argue, merely reached for the soap and as Neville watched, began to wash as if far more than mere dirt was being swept down the drain.
They had barely dressed again, when unexpected visitors arrived.
"So what exactly did you do, Miss Lovegood?"
"The Innoxius charm," she answered Lupin, who was staring uncertainly across the table at a remarkably calm Snape. She had finished early at the Quibbler, and had arrived with bags of groceries and Remus in tow, having met him at the green grocer.
Remus blinked at this, then suddenly began to laugh.
"Oh, that's rich! I would never have thought of that, but it's brilliant."
"Indeed." Snape sighed.
"Oh, you just hate being outsmarted, Severus, and by two students besides."
Snape said nothing, merely staring at the tabletop. Neville could sense that his comment had not been snide, but sincere. He could feel the sardonic amusement from Severus over Luna's use of the Innoxius charm.
Lupin was oblivious. Neville decided to keep their bond to himself, and he felt the agreement resonate silently between them.
"Well," Remus said now with satisfaction. "I think when Harry returns we may have much to celebrate."
That night, Neville locked his door and cast a Silencing Charm after they had both visited the loo and undressed for bed. Snape watched him uncertainly as Longbottom slid under the covers, then pulled them down and looked over at him expectantly.
Severus slid in with him, and to his surprise, Neville turned on his side to face him, taking his hand in his.
"I want you to do something for me."
Snape nodded.
"I know you can use the Mind Arts. Harry told us once about the lessons you were giving him during Fifth year. I want you to show me what happened that night."
Snape did not ask which night. He knew what Longbottom meant. He tried to tamp down the sorrow and guilt and regret, but the boy, no, the young man whose purity of heart had released him from vile bondage, this young man who had silently asked him to his bed, squeezed his hand in a comforting way and he realized Neville already knew. He just wanted to see for himself.
For what he had done, he owed him a lot more than this. If anything, he owed Neville a life debt even greater than the one he owed Harry.
He squeezed Neville's hand back and whispered, "We'll need a wand."
"Legilimens!"
The images scrolled past fast and heavy and Neville tried to keep up. It was just as chaotic as that night, all flashes of spells and dark and fighting. The focus was directed to his arrival on the battlements of the tower, the necessity for taking one life to save two others, three, if one counted Harry, who Neville suddenly realised Snape had known about, thanks to Dumbledore. It was all there - Albus in his mind, asking him to commit himself to the greater good. Out of love and with pure self-loathing, Severus did.
He saw more, the escape, hampered by needing to protect Draco, and then Harry. Then he saw a Hippogriff and felt pain in his shoulder and abruptly found himself back in bed with Severus Snape.
Those gleaming black eyes watched him and Neville tried to smile, but could not. Instead, he reached a hand to the shoulder the Hippogriff had scored and Severus swallowed as Neville caressed the faint scars.
His breath stilled as Neville dipped his head to kiss them and he trembled as Neville shifted to lie partially atop him, his erection pressed to a hip whilst his own rubbed along a warm thigh.
"I've not done this. Not really," Neville admitted, as he moved up to look at Severus.
"Nor I."
Neville stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
"That's good. We won't know if one of us is crap."
Severus's lips twitched in amusement. He finally asked quietly, "Are you quite certain, Neville? You might prefer to do this with a girl. Someone your own age."
He shrugged. "I've kissed a few. I've kissed a couple boys, too. I don't think I have any real preference. Except right now, I want to be with you."
Snape nodded.
"Then you'll need that wand again."
To Snape's surprise, Neville gently traced a line down his erection with his wand, along the ridge of his scrotum and below, leaving a trail of tingling sensation, before stopping at his opening and carefully intoning the words he had taught him, "Laxo et oleum."
Severus convulsed as the spell loosened and prepared him. A single drop of oil dripped from him and he held his legs up higher, holding his knees with his hands.
Without a word, and with one warm hand pressed to Severus's cheek, Neville gently and carefully slid home.
Snape's indrawn breath made him apologize, until Severus shook his head, panting for breath.
"It's... it's intense."
Neville could not argue. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. His hands, rubbing against a pillow, even the one time he had managed to successfully use a jelly spine hex and lick himself to an orgasm was not like this.
Encased in hot silk, his foreskin retracted with each thrust forward, making his bared glans slide against that slick, tight, smooth heat, then become covered again as he pulled back. Neville knew he would not last as shudders raced along his spine.
He looked at Severus and lost all control.
Neville never thought to see his former professor, so rigidly controlled and fearsome, give himself over to pleasure. That same throat he had watched water cascade down from was bared, his head thrown back, black hair a fan on the bedspread. His wiry arms flexed as he held his knees up and apart. His hugely swollen penis lay flat on his stomach, heavy with veins, only a hint of glossy red glistening where his glans peeked out from beneath that lengthy prepuce.
Neville began to thrust faster, harder, and reached one hand down to touch, to caress that incredible looking cock. He fisted it, and then stroked it, and Severus arched his back, clenched tight around him and began to ejaculate.
Neville did not hear himself exulting, calling out Snape's name. The only sounds he heard were Snape's stifled cry and subsequent moans, followed by the rush of blood to his own head as he began to experience the most powerful orgasm he had ever had.
As Neville and Severus joined together and affirmed their bond, Harry Potter and his two best friends were trapped by Death Eaters. Somehow, in the very moment Severus was breached, a still-recovering Voldemort became so unsettled by the unfamiliar emotions of caring and devotion he was suddenly visited with, that he became distracted. The distraction lasted long enough for Harry's Eiecto! to drive him, back first, into a protruding tree branch.
The tree was small, but one branch had been sheered during the firefight and it was what had impaled the Dark Lord. What had killed him, though, and along with him all his marked followers, was another thing entirely.
"Circis siliquastrum," Hermione noted, seeing the pale purple flowers, which she knew were used in various potions.
Safe now, as the last of the Death Eaters all slowly died as the poison from their Dark Marks was released into their systems, the two boys crept out from behind the rock they'd used for shelter and stared at the dead sorcerer.
"Is that a spell?"
She shook her head and smiled at Harry.
"No. It's the Latin name for this tree. It's a Judas tree, also known as a love tree. The flowers are used for potions and the wood is very valuable."
"Love." Harry stared at the unseeing eyes of Tom Riddle and the look of shock on his face and shuddered slightly. "That was what Dumbledore told me would be stronger in the end. I believe him now."
Predictably, Harry had not been so easy to convince when it came to Severus Snape.
"I don't care what everyone else seems to think, you're still a Death Eater!"
"Oh, Harry, of course, he isn't."
He glared at Hermione. "Stop defending him!"
"Then stop yelling and act reasonable," she quipped back, annoyed. She handed the Daily Prophet, with its front cover picture of a triumphant Scrimgeour with his arm around a dour-looking Harry, to Ron. "You were there the same as I," she pointed out. "All the Death Eaters died. Their marks killed them."
Harry frowned. "Then maybe he was too far. That's why he survived."
"The Death Eaters in Azkaban died, too, Harry," Ron said now, reading the article for himself.
Remus pulled back from Snape now, a look of uncertainty on his face.
"Severus. Let's see your left arm, please."
Snape scowled up at him, then calmly unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed up the fabric to reveal the almost gone scratchy outline of the Dark Mark. There was no colour to it at all, just the thin scratchy outline that delineated where it had been, where it had bled out into the soil.
Neville tensed. He really did not wish to reveal their bond, at least not in front of so many people, but he also could not expect Snape to keep silent if goaded much further.
Harry suddenly, and amidst various exclamations, jabbed his wand into Snape's forearm and shouted, "Revelo!"
A wisp of smoky vapour seeped from the area the mark had been and slowly dissipated. Nothing else happened.
The rest all stared, thunderstruck, and Hermione gasped. "I didn't think that was possible."
"I believe that is fairly conclusive as regards Severus not being a true Death Eater, Harry," Remus opined. "Not to mention he has been here several days and has not once attempted to run."
"Of course not. He was gathering information and just waiting."
"Nor has he harmed anyone."
"That noxious charm you told us about."
"Innoxius," Remus corrected.
"Whatever." Harry did not look away from Snape, glaring at him. His voice held hatred and contempt. "That's all as may be, but he still killed Dumbledore. I saw him."
It was in this accusatory, uneasy silence that fell that Luna abruptly Apparated in.
"Oh, sorry, Ron. Hello," she smiled at everyone in the room.
"Miss Lovegood." It was all Snape said, but several people were startled at his calm and pleasant tone of voice.
"How are you Professor? Did Neville treat you well?"
Neville felt his face grow very warm. He noticed Severus also grew a bit pink as he inclined his head in confirmation.
"Oh, good. Are we celebrating then? I would have been here sooner, but we had to stop the presses and add a small notice about the end of the war. It was hard, but we squeezed it in between our cover story on the deadly Acromantula conspiracy and the discovery of magic-draining leeches in the waters of the Black Lake."
"Not exactly, Luna," Ron murmured. "Harry is a bit... upset with Professor Snape."
"Stop calling him that. He's no Professor. He's a murderer."
"Oh, was it proven then? Or did you confess?" Luna turned big blue eyes on Severus.
Harry groaned. "I saw it, Luna! He doesn't have to confess."
"Oh, but Harry, you thought you saw Sirius being tortured once, too. But he wasn't," she pointed out reasonably.
"That was different. Voldemort was sending me images."
"Well, maybe he sent you images of that."
"Luna, Dumbledore is dead," Ron said gently. "Whether Harry saw what he thought he saw or not..."
"I know what I saw!"
"Harry, please stop shouting," Hermione pleaded.
"Perhaps it wasn't really him," Luna suggested. She looked at Snape. "Polyjuice?"
Severus shook his head.
"No, Miss Lovegood. It was I that night." His voice was rough and grave.
"Were you under Imperius?"
He continued to look at her and finally shook his head.
"Were you coerced?"
The rest all watched this odd tableau, Luna's clear and lilting tones somehow captivating them, keeping them silent, watchful and expectant.
"By whom, Miss Lovegood?"
"Someone who you owed a favour to, perhaps. Or someone you felt you owed and that had asked you to do it."
He swallowed, fighting against the instinct to withdraw and avoid answering. Only the warm acceptance from Neville through their bond kept him from doing so.
"That, Miss Lovegood, is an astonishingly astute conclusion."
Harry scoffed. "So you're saying someone forced you to kill Dumbledore?"
Tired and rather bleak black eyes regarded the Boy Who Had Triumphed Over Evil.
"No, Mr. Potter. That is not what I am saying. I wasn't forced. I was asked."
"Well, I know that already. Your master asked you, didn't he?"
Snape's lips quirked slightly, but he finally nodded. "Yes, in fact."
Harry sat back, satisfied. "I think that's good enough for the Wizengamot."
"Which one?"
Everyone started and looked to Luna who was gazing serenely at Severus. He seemed surprised, but then, to everyone's shock except Luna, he nearly smiled.
"Albus, of course."
In the course of the kerfuffle that ensued, when the enraged Harry had hurtled across the table at Severus, Snape did nothing to defend himself, aside from turning aside and letting Harry slide past his shoulder and into the countertop.
It was Neville and Remus who had to hold Harry back from the unresisting Slytherin, and despite the fact Severus had not lifted a hand to defend himself, Harry looked in far worse shape. In fact, his nose was definitely swollen, thanks to its encounter with the counter edge.
"Easy, Harry." Ron urged, standing in front of the weary-looking Snape, who was watching Potter's still-flying fists.
"That lying, two-faced bastard!"
"Now Harry..."
"What Hermione? Am I wrong?"
She shrugged. "About Snape's true motives? I've come to no conclusion. But there's no need for coarseness."
He rolled his eyes.
Luna added, "Besides, the Professor isn't a bastard. His parents were married when they had him."
Snape could not help it; he smirked. Harry scowled. Neville sighed.
Then he gasped, remembering something.
"She's right, Harry. You're wrong."
"Fine. He's not a bastard. He's a two-faced, lying sneak!"
"Not about that. Remember what Remus told you about the Innoxius?"
Harry nodded.
"Well, um... he hasn't been under it for two days now. I, um... sort of forgot to cast it."
As one, they looked at Snape, who merely looked at Neville with an unreadable expression. He finally looked to Potter.
"Albus did not want you to be the instrument of his death."
"I would never!"
"You misunderstand. I am not saying you would kill him deliberately. That night, you had given him poison, if I am not mistaken. It was this, which would have killed him at your hand. So he asked me to remove this burden from you, and secure my own position amongst the Death Eaters."
All eyes turned to Harry, who glared at him. Hermione spoke.
"Harry... you did say Dumbledore made you make him drink that liquid. Remember what you said it did?"
He hesitated, uncertain, and Snape sighed.
"While I'm sure what I have said so far will not convince you, I know Albus showed you the difference between tampered memories and genuine ones."
Harry nodded.
"Would my memories of the events, to be viewed only by any here present, satisfy you?"
Harry considered this, blood dripping slowly from his broken nose and finally nodded again.
"You didn't say anything."
"Nor did you."
"Yeah, but I thought... well..."
"Go on."
"It's just... it's not my liberty at stake."
Snape looked at Neville and finally nodded.
"True enough. However, I figured you would not appreciate our bond being made public. It shall be difficult enough if I am tried and incarcerated."
"D-do you w-want me to speak?"
Snape stared at him for a long moment.
"I will not make your choices for you. I will keep silent as far as I can." He sighed. "I cannot vouch for what may happen if the Ministry uses Veritaserum or a truth charm, however."
Neville looked troubled, but nodded. Then he cast the Silencing Charm and locked the door.
"Then we'd best make the most of tonight, eh?"
Severus lay in the dimness, staring up at the wooden ceiling, trying to recall if anyone had ever held him the way Neville was holding him.
He did not remember it, although, he supposed it was possible his mother might have when he was a slip of a lad. He certainly did not remember it happening after he was in school.
The rather endearing kisses he did remember, youthful experimentation that had not progressed any further, giving him a glimpse of a world that resisted him, a taste of a future not meant for the likes of him.
He looked now at this young man and felt something odd within. Perhaps it was the bond. It made him want to hold on to him and not let go, but that was exactly what he had to do. He had no choice. In fact, it might be best if the rest thought the boy had been coerced or ensorcelled.
It would keep his name free of taint. He could go far on the sympathy. Find another. Someone younger and less careworn. Someone more worthy.
The thought burned much as his Dark Mark used to, although the sensation was not centred in his arm, but in his chest and gut.
"What's wrong?"
The whisper, soft as it was, still made him jump and alarmed Neville.
"Severus?"
He swallowed down his emotions and nodded at Neville.
"I'm fine."
Neville relaxed, but whispered, "is it tomorrow? Are you worried?"
He merely nodded and Longbottom considered this.
"Does this help? We don't have to, if..."
Snape considered this and was surprised to find the earnest offer nearly made him weep. He swallowed down the feeling, which re-emerged as Neville gently caressed his cheek in a comforting way.
"I mean it."
Severus nodded. "I know you do."
He drew in a deep breath, pushed down the knot of emotion that threatened to envelop him and looked up at his bond mate.
"I would prefer we continue. It may be a long time, after all."
Neville finally nodded, then slid down to kiss his chest. Severus trembled, trying to relax, his emotions still roiling inside.
He tensed, though, as that warm and generous mouth tongued him, then gently sucked him in.
"Ne-Neville..."
Now this he had never experienced before. It was far more intense than he had heard described. He found himself hurtling toward a finish before it had barely begun.
"S-stop!"
Neville looked up at him and he drew in a breath.
"It's a bit much. I almost..."
To his astonishment, Neville grinned at him. Severus had never expected to have anyone give him that look at all, much less under these circumstances.
"Good."
Neville dipped his head back down and Severus arched his back as the sensations returned, twice as strong and overpowering, and he clutched at the bed sheets as he emptied himself, some spurting into that moist warmth and the rest gifted to the air and his own belly, as he shook himself to pieces.
The next day's evening edition of the Daily Prophet was a best seller. The front cover had a picture of a solemn Harry Potter standing in front of the statue at the Ministry Atrium. The banner headline read: Boy Who Triumphed Tantalizes Public With Hints Of Secret Conspiracies.
There was a smaller image in the lower corner of Snape's wanted poster, which morphed into an image where half of him was in a prison uniform, and half in his school robes. This had the small headline: Death Eater Or Do-Gooder? Snape Survives Sorcery Slaughter! Testifies Before Wizengamot!
It was the morning edition of the following day, however, that sold so many copies the Prophet had to reprint it.
Neville Longbottom graced the cover this time, next to a rather stoic-looking Severus Snape. The headline read: Friend Of Harry Potter Shocks Ministry! Reveals Bond With Former Death Eater!
There was a smaller image below that in the lower corner. Hermione, Luna and Ron were bent over a prone figure. The caption read: "Harry Potter fainted with astonishment at the Hall of Records when he discovered his schoolmate and fellow member of the Order Of the Phoenix was bonded to his former enemy, Severus Snape. See 'Longbottom Heir Stuns Ministry' on page 2."
The article did not state that Potter had been roused by Luna Lovegood, who had used a well-aimed Aquamenti spell, and then diagnosed him as having been infested with Wrackspurts.
The evening edition on that same day was less popular. Longbottom Matriarch Stands By Her Grandson read the headline. The small caption beneath her vulture-hatted image simply said, "Augusta Longbottom scowls at reporters, stating Severus Snape was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and a good teacher she was proud to accept into her family."
The Quibbler's extra edition at the end of the week was more to the point: Dumbledore's Man Through and Through, an exclusive with Severus Snape, by Luna Lovegood.
She was quite busy that particular edition, as she also had to write an article about the Wrackspurt infestation at the Hall of Records.
The Tattler, of course, was as salacious as ever: Snape Evades Prison, Claims - "I Was Never A Death Eater!" The picture, a simple one of Snape taken as he left the Wizengamot, still wearing Neville's old clothing, bore the caption, "The dreaded Dark Mark mysteriously missing from his arm, Severus Snape leaves the Ministry a free man, having finally admitted his true leanings."
The fact that he only had eyes for Neville Longbottom in the image, who was gazing back rather longingly at him, made it one of their personal favourites.
"Well, it's done. If Harry doesn't forget to water them, the plants will all be fine, and he should have a good crop of herbs."
Neville sighed as he looked around at the orderly glasshouse.
Snape eyed his bond mate. "Why then do you sound wistful?"
Neville sighed again. "It's just... I love doing this. Gram has allergies, so she converted the glasshouse to a sunroom where she can have tea with her Lady Unicorns club."
Severus considered this.
"Do you plan to live with her?"
Neville shrugged. "She'd like that. It's where I've always been, but that doesn't mean I want to stay there. I've told her before I feel like we're two peas rattling around in a great big empty shell there. I've got lots of uncles and aunts. When Gram passes, I know the house will be fought over, even if I inherit. It's too big and musty for just me, though. I'd as soon sell it and let them split the monies. My folks left me enough. I don't really need it."
Snape nodded, looking at a tiny mustard seedling.
"If that is indeed the case..."
Neville looked up at him, and then stood, dusting off his hands on his trousers. "What is it?"
"Would you be interested in fixing up another glasshouse, not as large or fine as this one perhaps, but still in need of repair and replenishing?"
Neville smiled. "Sure. Do you know of one?"
"I may have exaggerated. It is actually not in need of repair so much as construction... from the ground up."
"Oh?"
"I've always wanted a glass house for my potion ingredients," Severus said quietly, looking anywhere but at Neville. Not that he had to, their bond had slowly ripened to the point each could easily sense what the other was feeling.
"You mean at the school." Neville was not sure if he wanted to return to Hogwarts.
Severus shook his head. "No. I truly do not wish to return to teaching. It was never my original career goal."
"What would you like to do?"
"Have a shop. Sell my potions. Perhaps sell arcane books, as well. I fancy having a cat that stalks the shelves and customers, closing the shop for tea time and making trips abroad to acquire rare ingredients and books from time to time during the year."
"Sounds nice."
"Unfortunately, I do not have the funds for it. So I'm afraid I will be making potions at home and selling them via owl-order for the foreseeable future."
"Home?"
Snape smiled. "I do have one. It is where the aforementioned glass house does not yet exist."
Neville smiled, too. "Well, in that case, I'm your man."
Severus's expression deepened. "Yes. You are."
Neville swallowed as he felt his bond mate's desire.
"Uh... if you had the money for this venture? Would you like a partner? A silent partner, that is. I wouldn't mind selling things and growing your plants."
"And feeding our cat?"
Neville's smile broadened. "Oh, aye! And, uh... traveling with you. It sounds great."
"Indeed."
Severus stepped closer and took Neville's hand. Their pulses began to quicken.
Neville looked down at their joined hands and then up at Snape.
"There's only one problem."
"What?"
"Gram is going to want to visit. Every week. And discuss your business."
"Our business. And I do hope you mean the shop and not our personal lives."
"Oh, aye. She's nosy, but she knows what's proper."
"In that case," Severus drew closer still to put an arm around Neville. "It's not a problem at all. We'll just make sure we keep her favourite tea and biscuits on hand."
Before Neville could respond, Severus was kissing him. Soon he forgot about speaking to deepen their kiss, holding his bond mate even closer.
The summer sun beat down on them as they sealed the agreement of their future together amidst the burgeoning new life in the Black family glasshouse.
post A/N: a few links of possible interest
http://www.cooltonagh.co.uk/
http://fothergills.co.uk/
Term: circis siliquastrum
n : small tree of the eastern mediterranean having abundant
purplish-red flowers growing on old wood directly from
stems and appearing before the leaves: widely cultivated
in mild regions; wood valuable for veneers
syn: judas tree, love tree
Posted: 6 July 2006