SS/HP, Mine Own [NC17]

Mine Own
by [ -aka- Theophilia "Feelya" Thistlebush]
for: [empathic_siren -aka- Undine Rydewatter]
Written for: reversathon 2006

Pairing: SS/HP
Implied Pairings: RW/HG and NT/RL
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: character deaths (not SS or HP), angst, one slightly non-con moment, h/c.

Word count: 13,329

My prompt: Harry/Snape. Slash. Post-war. (Snape's aligned with the Light). On-going relationship. Harry is still healing from the final battle and Severus has to use all of his Slytherin cunning to keep Harry in bed and get him to take his potions/medications, especially when Harry's stubborness causes him to take a turn for the worse.

"I fail to see why I have been interrupted from critical potion-making for a progress report on the Boy Who Bloody Well Lived Yet Again."

Poppy Pomfrey eyed Snape archly and looked over to the Headmistress who seemed amused.

"The problem, as I have stated, is that I can't seem to keep him in the Infirmary. If he is not spending his limited energy chatting or writing to friends the amount of visitors, not to mention owls, I have to deny is growing critical. Everyone wants a piece of him!"

Snape sighed. "What is this to do with me?"

"You're his bondmate, Severus. So it falls on you to get Harry to ... behave."

He paled, stared at the smug-looking Pomfrey and glared at Minerva.

"That... That is a mere technicality! It was private, as well, or it was until now."

McGonagall shook her head. "Severus, I know you were bound to Harry against your will, but needs must. Harry can get no rest in the Infirmary and we're at our wit's end with the amount of correspondence alone. If you look out my window right now you can see the crowd waiting at the gates, all just hoping for a mere glimpse of Harry Potter."

He scowled at the boiling potion in the cauldron between him and the two witches and finally relented.

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

"Poppy is going to release Harry into your care as his next of kin. You will confine him to your quarters until he fully recovers his magic and his health."

"Minerva..." he looked faintly scandalized.

"It's for the best, and really, what choice have we? Harry refuses to listen to Poppy. He will listen to you, even if he doesn't like it. I'll make sure of it. It's for his own good."

Snape hesitated, considering.

He had hoped to keep his bonding to the boy a secret, with only a few Order members knowing, including Potter's two closest friends. The bonding had been impressed on him when the brat had finally realized he was not on Voldemort's side at all, but in fact working for the Order as a very deep operative indeed.

The bonding had been required of him, but not as a matter of trust he'd been told. It was the far more urgent matter of Harry being able to gain near-instant communication through their bond, plus the ability to share Snape's magic. He'd been given no choice in the matter and by the time the issue came up, Snape was too weary of his role as a spy to put up any complaint. He'd agreed and opted to make the best, the most of it all.

As it had turned out, the bond had saved Harry's life when Voldemort had nearly drained him of magic during the final battle. Even now he could feel the strain of maintaining himself and his partner; he slept hard and long and barely felt rested, he required far more at meals than he normally did before he felt sated. This would continue until Harry recovered, which at this rate would be weeks not days.

Now he glanced up and finally nodded to Pomfrey, not meeting her eyes. What must she think of him? Bonded to a boy half his age...

"I'll tell him you've got instructions for him then, Minerva," she said, turning to leave.

"Thank you, Poppy. I'll be there in a trice."

The headmistress turned to him then and sighed.

"It won't be so bad, Severus. Truly."

He glared at her again, and then muttered angrily, "How many others are you going to tell about our bonding? I can just see news of this getting out - 'Severus Snape, In Service To The Boy Who Lived'."

He shuddered and Minerva sighed again.

"Is it really that bad?"

His face reddened as he thought of some of the speculative looks Harry had been giving him since their bonding. Snape knew the boy felt the pull, the desire, but he told himself it was only the bond. Without a spell, Harry Potter would never really want anything to do with an ex-Death Eater, most especially not one Severus Snape. He shrugged a little, changed the subject.

"Once news gets out... it will be worse than when they learned I was responsible for Albus's death!"

"Responsible, perhaps, but not to blame. You were acting on Albus's orders," she clarified. "News won't get out unless you or Harry let it. I will tell him the truth, but the rest will be told he is recovering in seclusion, because the crowds and correspondence is sapping his strength. Hopefully it will cut back on both and has the benefit of being mostly true, also. Then once he's recovered, you might be able to sever your bond."

"Tell him the truth and you tell his friends."

"They will keep silent or I will know why. They are still members of the Order and I expect obedience much as Albus did."

She looked over to the portrait where Dumbledore normally sat, sleeping, but he was currently at the Ministry, where the Wizengamot had been questioning him extensively since the end of the war.

Severus said nothing, but considered that Potter's two partners in crime had been surprisingly circumspect over the bonding. The girl he knew was reasonable, but he'd half-expected the youngest Weasley boy to create difficulty, or at least express his displeasure. Instead, both had seemed very understanding. He did not care to imagine what they must say behind his back. It was not like he could help the fact the bond required intimacy nor could he help the fact that he was not, by nature, a man comfortable with intimacy. Nor could he have known Potter would be so considerate of his needs, so generous in bed...

He cleared his throat. "When can I expect the bo-- Potter?"

"In an hour. And Severus?"

He nodded, not looking up.

"Harry is not a boy. He's nearly 20 years old and he's been fighting a madman for the last nine years, often with little support from anyone. When he learned you weren't to blame for Albus's death and Hermione Granger discovered the possibilities inherent in a bond, he did not argue nor did he hesitate to seek you out, to insist on a bonding. I think you might extend the same respect you would to any other 'boy' you'd discovered had done this. This bonding is not your fault nor need it be a burden."

Snape considered responding, but in the end he merely nodded and turned down the flames under the cauldron, preparatory to heading for his quarters.

"I'll send the house elves to help you prepare for his arrival," Minerva said before she exited.

~0~

Harry trudged back to his Infirmary bed with a sinking feeling.

The more he tried to do so as to help his friends, the more weak and sick he felt.

As it was, poor Hermione and Ron were nearly buried in the Room of Requirement, which was where the Headmistress had ordered all his mail to be sent. He'd left them when his head began to spin after writing a mere three replies to inquiries from friends, including the Patil twins who had sent him get-well flowers. Their bouquet was the 75th received so far. Professors Sprout and Flitwick had taken charge of them, Flitwick setting a spell to levitate any he did not want by his bedside to the greenhouse set up just for Harry's flowers. Fortunately the spell was voice-activated, because Harry could not currently do much magic without becoming hideously drained.

As he entered the Infirmary, he slunk behind the sightscreens Pomfrey had set up to cover the view from the windows - the one thing that might have made his stay there bearable. He could not even look outside, since owls and journalists on brooms kept flying by in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him.

How was he ever going to live a normal life if this sort of thing went on? And how could he stay in the Infirmary on his duff when so many were seeking to reach him?

It had only been four days since Voldemort's demise and each day it only grew worse.

He couldn't help but quail at Hermione's observation that if he hadn't been bonded with Snape, he'd surely be worse, if not dead. How much worse could he be?

He sighed now, wondering about the bond, wondering if breaking it would harm him. He would ask Hermione as soon as they had a private moment, he decided.

There was no rush, no reason to break it anytime soon anyway. The only other person he'd considered bonding himself to had gravitated toward another during the two and a half years he had searched for the Horcruxes and fought Voldemort's forces. She was Ginny Longbottom now and in his heart of hearts, Harry wished her well.

In his heart of hearts, Harry also felt a surprising amount of gratitude toward Snape, his bondmate. When the Order had pressed him into the bond, it hadn't been his choice, but he'd done it to ensure their trust and success. Harry had bowed to the need of it, not really caring at the time since Ginny had turned her attention to someone else.

He flushed now as he remembered their 'wedding night'.

Hermione had informed him that after downing a potion and reciting the necessary incantations, the minimum necessary was penetration of at least one partner for a true bond to be created. Not ejaculation or even genital contact, just bodily penetration by one to the other, which could include something so simple as a deep kiss.

However, (and Harry had just known there would be a however) for the full effects of the bond, for the mental awareness and sharing of power, the more intimate the contact the better.

He had been undecided at the time what it was to be, but Snape had taken the decision out of his nervous hands, and perhaps for the best.

Thus Harry had found himself walking into his room that night at Grimmauld Place to find Snape waiting for him, clearly drugged, but also naked and ready for Harry to 'take' him.

The potion they'd already both imbibed before their witnesses, Hermione and Remus during an earlier ceremony. Before them they had also recited their incantations. The witnesses had then wished them both luck and left.

Without a word, Snape had gone upstairs and Harry had headed toward the bathroom to freshen up before going to his room.

While Snape had obviously taken something to relax, Harry was still surprised that he had not been the least bit snide or sarcastic. He had not been impatient or complained; it was clear Snape felt the bond was as important as Harry himself, and for the same reasons.

Harry had been embarrassed to find he already had an erection thanks to the direction his thoughts had been circling, and seeing his former Potions Master, his former foe, all six feet of pale, scarred skin, shivering stoically, waiting on his bed...

He had averted his gaze and slowly begun to strip, feeling his cock throbbing with each movement. Then Snape had made him feel even more aroused. That deep voice was slurred as he'd spoken.

"I know I'm not what you likely hoped for as a partner, and I know I'm not much to look at, but... keep in mind that what we do here will bring about what we both want the most. Harry."

It was hearing his name spoken in that dark, unsteady voice that tore at Harry's confused heart, and he had slid onto the bed, still wearing his underpants, and shut Snape up with a kiss.

Snape had gasped and then surrendered. Harry had felt extremely humbled by his capitulation.

To his shamed gratitude, the advice from the sex manual Hermione had privately gifted him had not even been needed. Once Harry stopped kissing him, Snape had whispered that he was ready, that there was no need for him to take time preparing.

Uncertain, but willing to take him at his word and hurry through the act that was clearly embarrassing to them both, Harry had lowered his underpants, gently lifted Snape's legs over his shoulders, and carefully slid inside him. Snape had not been lying; his passage was well stretched and lubricated and Harry had been hard-pressed not to thrust wildly until he came.

Instead, he thrust gently and slowly and managed to extricate one hand enough to equally gently and slowly stroke Snape's warm, quiescent organ. It was only fair, after all, that both should find pleasure in the act.

"H-Harry!"

That only, one blurt of hesitant sound and then Harry felt that organ begin to swell in his hand. Snape said nothing else, merely closing his eyes and throwing his head back. He did not touch Harry, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly, a look of seeming pain on his face.

Harry looked away, uncertain if he should stop, then finally deciding to continue stimulating Snape and concentrate on finishing up so as to end the ordeal for them both as soon as possible. He had no intention of taking his own pleasure here; if they had to have sex for the bond to fully work, then he wanted them both to find pleasure in it. He had the feeling it was essential to the bond.

Harry did not know what Snape liked, but he knew what he liked and he worked diligently to provide it -- long, slow even strokes over the length of his cock. Snape's cock was a bit of a revelation, different from his own sturdy chub of flesh, it was long, not as thick as his own, and very rigid when hard, ropy with veins. The glans was plum-coloured and seemed to wink from beneath the foreskin each time he tugged upward and then pulled it back down. A slick bead of liquid dripped from the tip and Harry moved faster, hips and hands alike. He felt inexplicably excited, panting now as the feelings built.

Soon he found himself coming, hard, deep within Snape. As he fought to catch his breath, hips still reflexively thrusting, he heard the start of an agonized cry, bitten off, and felt Snape begin to jerk beneath him. Then the prick in his hand contracted and pulsed blood-warm fluid onto his hand, that pale belly and the bed.

He also felt a slight tingling rush that told him the bonding magic had worked. Relief had flooded him, along with other emotions he opted not to study too closely until he had more distance.

Moments later, he heard Snape's soft tremulous comment.

"You didn't have to do that."

It was all he'd said and yet it had told Harry so much about him.

~0~

At first, Snape spelled the potion bottles. It was simple enough really. A quick spell and the bottles would chime when it was time for them to be taken. Surely the b-- Potter could understand something so rudimentary?

The second afternoon he'd walked into hi-- their quarters to hear soft and steady chiming from the spare bedroom, Severus felt like pulling out his hair.

He didn't even bother checking the bedroom, it was clear Potter wasn't in the place.

He closed his eyes and focused on the tingling filament anchored to his mind, then followed it out and to... the kitchens?

Snape opened his eyes and strode up to the floo. He took out his wand...

~0~

Harry had felt silly putting on the silk robe the house elves kept leaving for him on the end of the bed, but he was too tired to get dressed and he didn't want to wander about in just his pyjamas.

He had to do something. He didn't know how Snape managed as he always left to work before Harry even woke up, but whenever he ordered a meal, Harry was getting ridiculous amounts of food. The meals were so huge and elaborate that the house elf that brought them enlarged the table so they could fit. So many choices! At least six different entrees and Harry didn't even know what some of the side dishes and condiments were.

When he got presented with five towering desserts for lunch, enough was enough.

~0~

The students tickled the pear, but faculty normally just asked the door to open and a house elf would allow them access. Snape sighed at his third unsuccessful request and reached over to the painting and tickled the pear. Soon he was inside the kitchens where he could hear a low murmur of sound and as he rounded the corner and a pair of large standing cupboards, he beheld a most peculiar sight.

Harry sat atop the middle table that was a replica of one of the tables in the Great Hall above, the Ravenclaw table Snape noted idly. What looked to be nearly the entire population of Hogwarts house elves surrounded him, rapt adoration on their small faces. Harry looked sheepish and determined both.

"No, really. I don't need so much food. I don't want any to go to waste. When I ask for lunch, I don't need a fourteen-course meal. I can't eat that much!"

"Have you eaten at all?"

Snape's sharp question caused a loud murmur, followed by a minor stampede as house elves quickly scattered to their chores, heads hung as if ashamed to have been caught shirking their duties. Only one remained by Harry and he ignored the elf as he waited for the b-- Potter's response.

"Of course, well... it was a bit rich and made me feel nauseous. There was so much food," Harry whinged. "Every time I ask for something they send way too much."

"The price of celebrity, Potter," Snape growled softly, thinking to his own breakfast of coffee and toast and the cold sandwiches with tepid tea he'd received in the laboratory. The food had been plentiful, but he hadn't exactly been given any choices. His mutinous thoughts were interrupted by a squeal.

"Professor Snape, sir!"

He looked down in astonishment at a rather oddly-dressed elf who wore a Hogwarts crested towel along with a small wool cap, one bright orange sock with dark green spots and one lime-coloured sock with purple stripes, and what looked to be a maroon jumper beneath the towel.

He was even more astonished when the elf hugged his legs, tears of what looked like joy running down his little face.

"I... uh..."

"Oh, Professor Snape, sir! Dobby is happy to see you so he can be thanking you from the bottom of his heart, sir! Dobby is so happy you saved Harry Potter."

Dobby let him go and looked from Potter back to him, studying them, and added, "I'se happy Harry Potter found a good, powerful bondmate. If Professor Snape ever needs help for Harry Potter, please just call Dobby."

"Er... you know about our bond?"

"We can sees it, Professor Snape. All elves can."

Snape paled and looked over at Harry who looked uncertain now.

"And do you share such knowledge?"

"Pardon, sir?"

Harry quickly clarified, "Dobby - do you, I mean, have you house elves told other house elves about our bond?"

Dobby looked offended. "No! House Elves keep our houses' secrets! It is the first law of being a House Elf! Keep your house's secrets!"

Harry nodded and Snape relaxed.

"That's good, Dobby, because this is a very big secret."

"Dobby understands, sirs. Dobby will keep Harry Potter's and Professor Snape's secret, sirs."

"Fine. Now that you've visited the house elves, Potter, you should really be in our quarters and in bed."

Snape ignored the slight gleeful squeal and blush Dobby made at this and fought a blush of his own.

"Resting," he added for benefit of his sanity.

Harry nodded and followed him out of the kitchens.

~0~

Harry was annoyed when Snape opted to give him his potions directly after that afternoon. He could not really argue, though, since he had been lackadaisical about taking them. He could not help it, though. There was so much to do and he despised just being in bed.

Some small portion of his mind needled him that perhaps he wouldn't mind so much if he had company in that bed?

Harry scowled and set down the Quidditch magazine he was re-reading for the fourth time and picked up the Daily Prophet.

His feelings of resentment grew when he learned he had missed the funerals of two of his classmates, Ernie MacMillan and Denis Creevey. True, he had not known them terribly well, but it was the principal of the thing! He should have the right to do as he wanted. He shouldn't have to ask permission to go to a friend's funeral!

When he read that morning's Daily Prophet special notices section, he made a decision...

~0~

When the potion bottle chimed, Snape stopped what he was doing, set the cauldrons to simmer and headed toward their quarters.

It wasn't just that he wanted to be sure Potter was taking his medication, this way he could also make sure he was actually resting. The less rest he got, the longer Snape would be feeling drained .

The system had worked quite well for two days, and despite his initial annoyance at having to stop what he was doing to check on Potter, he found it was good for him, as well. The slight break in his routine allowed him a chance to stretch tired legs, use the loo and see something besides damp, grey stone all day.

Today, though, he noticed his legs weren't just tired, but felt heavy as he made his way to their quarters. His eyes were gritty, too, and he could feel fatigue just waiting to settle over him like a cloak.

The potions currently in progress could safely simmer until the morrow, he thought. Perhaps he should take the afternoon off, maybe even nap.

He entered their quarters on this thought only to find Potter was missing!

He was just about to floo call Minerva, when a grimy, ash and soot covered Harry slid through, collided with him and they both wound up on their backsides, leaving soot and ash all over his carpet. To add to this, a perfectly tidy Hermione Granger suddenly stepped through, cautiously avoiding their legs to stand by Harry.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she said as she noted him. "Sorry about that. Come on, Harry. Steady on."

She'd taken Harry's arm to help him up, and as Snape levered himself up, he noted Potter was pale beneath the soot, and looked rather unwell. Moreover, he was in his pyjamas, covered only with his student robe against the chill.

Hermione used her wand to spell the ash and soot away from both Harry and the carpet.

"There you go." She smiled at Harry, and then hugged him tightly and Snape felt his stomach clench. "I'm so glad you came to the funerals, Harry. I know Mrs. Weasley appreciated it."

She let Harry go and Snape was able to breathe again. She turned to him then and nodded politely. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Professor. I'll be on my way now."

She reached into her own pocket, bringing out a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the fire, calling out, "Diagon Alley!" as she stepped through.

Snape was undecided as to what to say and finally just thrust a sooty hand into his pocket, pulled out the potion that had chimed earlier and gave it to Potter.

Harry did not argue, merely took it and swigged it down, then collapsed onto the sofa where he seemed to fight to catch his breath.

"So there was a funeral, I take it?"

Harry nodded, and to his discomfiture, his eyes grew bright with unshed tears.

"Charlie and Percy."

Disquieted, Snape remembered the two boys. Whilst the first had not gained a high competency in Potions, he was still quite an academically gifted student. The second Snape silently mourned as an ambitious and methodical student. He had often wondered why the third Weasley boy had not been sorted into Slytherin. He had not heard of their deaths, but then there had been so many, and still more to come as people succumbed to their battle wounds.

"I did not receive a funeral announcement," he merely said.

"No one did. They both passed yesterday and Mr. Weasley just put a notice in this morning's Daily Prophet. Neither he nor Mrs. Weasley wanted to wait to have the funeral or send announcements. Too many of their friends have relatives in hospital and they didn't want anyone to feel they had to come."

"Ah." Snape pursed his lips. He subscribed to the less-costly evening edition of the paper, mainly to avoid the editorials the morning edition favoured.

"Er... did you want to go? I would've said if I'd known you didn't know."

Snape looked over to him and sighed.

"I might, but I'm more concerned with your health. You can't stress yourself like this. You need to be in bed."

That oh-so-familiar face grew mulish.

"Look, I wasn't missing Percy and Charlie's funerals! I didn't even get dressed. I stayed in bed until half an hour before and I threw my robes on and I tried to floo there so I wouldn't have to apparate, but your floo didn't work for me."

"I spelled it so you could not leave here unaccompanied. I did not want you tempted to go traipsing off without so much as a 'by your leave,'" Snape murmured, only his fatigue keeping him from growing strident.

"Yeah, well, I had to fire call Hermione and I was lucky she was still home. She came through and the Grangers got me to the funeral. Before you shout, I didn't stand; I sat by the Grangers and Hermione kept me from being bothered by anyone. I didn't use any magic at all. I didn't even use that much strength."

Snape sighed again and sat across from him, then steepled his fingers. He could feel Harry's resentment; it beat against his temples and raged along their bond. His voice was tightly controlled, clearly angry, but also clearly exhausted.

"The problem is you are not even using your own strength. The reason you are so tired is because you have none of your own. You are using mine. That is why you are here - to be in bed, resting, recovering your own strength, not constantly borrowing mine to do whatever it gets in your mind to do."

Harry frowned, several times opening his mouth to interrupt, then finally shutting it and sighing.

"Am I really so weak?" was all he eventually asked.

Severus considered this, and then focused on their bond. Slowly and carefully, he shut his end off. It remained anchored, but he was effectively shutting off the currently one-way traffic, so to speak.

The gasping breaths were enough to make him stop and he opened his eyes to find the boy blue-lipped and fighting for breath, trembling, having collapsed back onto the sofa.

Soon he caught his breath, lost the blue tinge and was able to sit up again. His eyes were wide with fright and he stared at Severus.

"Is that... you're doing everything for me."

Snape merely nodded. "That is a taste of what you can expect if you task me further, as well as yourself."

Harry frowned, clearly concerned. "Why haven't you said?"

"Think. Why have we been so insistent on you getting rest, taking your medications? Do you think we all like playing mother hen?"

"I mean why didn't you tell me I was draining you?"

"It is of little concern. I've made do without sleep and food before, so this isn't so bad as I can actually eat and sleep. I just get little value from them. Until you are recovered, your strength literally is taken from mine."

Harry nodded, then finally said, "I didn't know."

"Now you do, please keep it in mind before haring off again."

"Why don't I feel you?"

"You won't until you regain enough of your own strength. Excuse me."

It was all Snape said before heading back to the dungeons, too tired to work, but also too angry to remain in the room with the reminder of his frailty.

~0~

Harry sat around the next three days, trying and failing to feel mollified despite Snape's little demonstration after the funeral.

He hated inactivity. He hated being stuck in a room without windows. He hated being sick without even feeling like he was sick and idly wondered, again despite Snape's demonstration, if he wasn't just being kept in seclusion for some other reason.

It was possible. The adults around him had a history of keeping information from him. Was it possible they had decided it was best for him to lay low and not show his face? The crowds that seemed to want a piece of him certainly were unnerving, but Harry knew eventually the novelty would die down.

It didn't help to stay hidden, he thought. They just wanted to see him that much more. They might begin to send spies or even animagus news reporters like Skeeter to find him.

As the day wore on, Harry's suspicions grew, as did his irritation. He was almost 20, an adult in both worlds. No one could tell him what to do!

~0~

When the potion bottle chimed, Snape stopped what he was doing, set the cauldrons to simmer and headed toward their quarters.

More than once that day he had felt the strange urge to check on Harry. He'd even found himself staring at the fireplace and considering a floo call, but had chosen not to. He knew the gesture would not be appreciated.

So instead he chopped, diced, ground, stirred, counted, re-counted, sifted, siphoned, adjusted and re-adjusted and generally worked as hard as a Potions Master would in the aftermath of a war.

~0~

Harry knew he should not and probably could not apparate, but McGonagall had said more than once in her advanced Transfigurations class that a wizard or witch in their animagus form used less energy. A witch or wizard in their Animagus form could run for hours as a dog or horse, for example, before tiring, whereas a human could only do so for minutes.

Thus Harry had reasoned that he could take his animagus form and would use less energy and still be able to move about the castle and not be a worse drain on Severus.

So it was that a small calico kneazle had made its way through the castle all morning, stopping hither and thither to sniff scents, watch the staff go about their work, stare with trepidation at the crowds just past the gates, and generally enjoy its meandering constitutional.

Harry luxuriated in his form, feeling more free than he had in many a day. No one bothered him, no one even knew it was him. Only Ron and Hermione knew Harry's animagus form, just as only he knew theirs, and they wouldn't tell anyone.

He was happily sunning himself on a window ledge after his nice long stroll when he felt himself being picked up by warm, firm, work-roughened hands.

"Mraow!"

"Hush up, now, there's a good boy. I'm just taking you to the Greenhouse. There's a family of mice trying to turn into a colony there and you can have a lovely scrummy time catching them to your heart's content."

Just what I always wanted, thought Harry the kneazle as Pomona Sprout carried him away.

~0~

Where was that dratted brat?!

Severus drew in a slow deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on their bond.

He could feel the pull toward the eastern side of the castle... outside? His scowl grew very black indeed as he pocketed Harry's potion again and flooed to the teacher's lounge, the closest floo to where he could feel Harry.

~0~

Harry was huddled between a Screechsnap plant and a huge Mimbulus mimbletonia that would have made Neville swoon. Ahead of him, a venomous tentacula was dozing and behind him... he could hear the dedicated munching sound the family of mice made as they chewed through the wood of the baseboards.

He didn't dare move, although, if he had to, the direction of the Screechsnap was his safest bet. He did not wish to be covered with Stinksap or poisoned.

Sprout had placed him there firmly, shushing the Screechsnap with a wave of her hand and gentling the mimbletonia back into a restful state.

"There you go, tiger," she had murmured, patting his head and heading out of the greenhouse.

He didn't know how long he'd been out, but he felt quite tired and he knew Snape would be coming to give him his afternoon potion. He had to get back to the dungeons.

His best option was to bunch up his hind legs and make a running leap for it. Once outside, he could hightail it for the dungeons and, hopefully, make it back before Snape.

He wiggled further down, waited for the Screechsnap to settle and then launched himself toward the greenhouse door. Landing safely on all four paws as stinksap flew behind him and screeching filled the greenhouse, the impact nonetheless winded him and he trotted now instead of running toward the castle proper, feeling the stinging pain in his paws as he moved, but ignoring it.

~0~

Snape winced as he climbed out of the floo in the teacher's lounge.

Pain had suddenly lanced through his hands and his feet and he began to hurry, feeling the effort intensely even as he wondered what the foolish brat had gotten himself into.

~0~

Harry was now walking very slowly. He had been trotting, but soon got out of breath and needed to slow down. Worse, some stinksap had gotten on his tail. He could smell the wretched stuff and tried to hold his tail as far from him as possible.

Now he wasn't even sure he would make it to the castle, much less the dungeons. He was listing drunkenly and so he limped to the nearest bridge wall and leaned against it, still padding slowly towards the castle.

No one really noticed him and for that he was grateful. He wasn't sure if he could make it. Maybe if he rested?

That sounded like a wonderful idea.

Harry the kneazle collapsed by the entry to the castle.

~0~

Rubbing at his aching hands and ignoring the pain in his feet, Snape rushed across the covered bridge, feeling an odd heaviness in his limbs, worried about Harry.

There was no one on the grounds, aside from other teachers and the crowd beyond the gates that called continuously for Potter. One teenaged boy of average height should not be so hard to find.

He got to the other end of the bridge, but the bond felt further so he took the time to look over the bridge railing, but he didn't see Harry below. He hurried back across the bridge, passing a rather handsome kneazle napping by the entryway to the castle, and headed back toward the teacher's lounge.

None of the staff he passed had seen Harry.

~0~

He could feel cold stone beneath him when he woke and opened his eyes to realize he was still in kneazle form, sleeping at the entry to the castle past the covered bridge junction.

He was still winded, still in pain, and he didn't think he could move. He also knew he couldn't stay in his animagus form because help would not find him. Right now, Harry would happily trade the pleasures of the day for a soft clean Infirmary bed.

He looked around, noted he was alone and loosed his shape. It took nearly all the energy he had left.

Soon the human Harry lay on the cobbled stones, breathless and rather smelly, looking up at the archway of the bridge and noting its architecture with intense interest.

"Oh, my!"

He could not move his head, but he saw a brief blur of movement. Then he heard the voices. Professor Sinistra, he thought, and Flitwick and some of the teacher's assistants.

"It's Harry Potter!"

"Harry!" "It's Harry!" "Harry Potter!"

"Is he all right?"

"Snape was looking for him. Worried he was."

"Someone get Snape!"

"What's that smell?"

"Someone get Pomfrey!"

"Did he soil himself?"

"The poor boy..."

"Step back!"

"Now just hang on, Snape--"

"Some people have got past the gate, you fools! Stop them!"

"Someone alert the Headmistress!"

"Forget Minerva, Hagrid get those idiots back!"

"Right!"

"We need to get the boy out of here."

"Is Pomfrey coming?"

He could hear the low black boots before he could see the face, long, black hair dipping low as his tired and worried-looking bondmate leaned in to study him before scooping him up and heading toward the Infirmary, great black brows meeting as he frowned.

Harry knew he was very lucky Snape did not believe in saying "I told you so."

~0~

To both their chagrin, Madam Pomfrey would not allow Harry to stay in the Infirmary.

She healed his bruised hands and feet (he'd said he hurt them when he collapsed) and gave him a general tonic and pronounced Harry fit enough to go back to their quarters and have a bath and bedrest, in that order.

Both scowled, but finally nodded their acquiescence.

~0~

That night, Snape tossed and turned and finally gave up trying to sleep. He was exhausted, but his body refused to allow him any respite.

He could feel Potter, sleeping lightly in his room, not yet in deep enough sleep for him to be able to effectively take care of his current problem. He was the cause of the current problem.

Harry had been far too worn out to bathe himself, so Severus had done it for him. Despite the smell of Stinksap, the young man was exceedingly attractive.

He turned onto his back now and lay staring up at the dark, ignoring the hopeful throbbing between his legs.

He wasn't sure if he could block such an action from Harry; in fact, he was fairly certain he couldn't. The bond did not work that way. Morever, masturbation lowered one's reserve, one's mental shielding, even further.

Snape sighed and wondered how long this would go on, when Potter would recover and ask for their bond to be dissolved. Until then, the bond would try to assert itself, particularly when it came to matters of a sexual nature. He knew if he tried to wank, Harry would feel it, just as when Harry tried to wank, he would feel it.

Fortunately, despite Harry's age, his energy depletion had been too great and so the boy hadn't felt the need to do so... yet. Today's adventures would likely set him back a few more days in that department.

Severus hoped that day would be long in coming since Harry would be getting the energy to do so from Snape himself. Worse, he would feel it and be unable to do anything. Or more specifically, he would be unwilling to do anything.

He did not want to get them any further embroiled. It would make it more difficult to dissolve the bond and he did not want to stand in Harry's way.

He knew very well that Harry would not want to be joined at the hip to a worn-out, ugly, greasy ex-Death Eater with potion-stained fingers and a skinny, unattractive body.

He sighed with relief now. His ruminations had made his erection deflate. Soon he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

~0~

The next morning found Harry scowling at the horrid Daily Prophet article about his ignominious adventures.

A picture (and just who had a camera with them at that moment?) of him, pale, sweaty and faint on the floor gaped up at the reader on the front page. BOY WHO LIVED AGAIN PAYS HUGE PRICE FOR KILLING YOU KNOW WHO proclaimed the headline. The article was nothing but a mess of avid speculation and a plethora of quotes from some of the teacher's and teacher's assistants who'd found him. Fortunately, none of them had seen him change forms, so his secret remained safe. However, now the Wizarding World thought he was too weak to even control his own bowels.

The Weasley Twins had sent him a package of U-NO-POO without a note. He guessed they were using humour to blunt the edge of their grief, but he hated being the brunt of it.

Worse, though, was remembering the embarrassing bath he'd been given last night. Thankfully his body had been way too tired for him to get an erection, but with Severus holding him and touching him so intimately, he couldn't help recall that first week after their bonding. He'd kept watching Snape's face, not sure if he was hoping to see interest or hoping he wouldn't because he couldn't do anything about it.

The man did not have an iota of expression, however. It had remained carefully blank during the whole bath and Harry had gotten the impression he just wanted to get it over with. Needing to bathe him probably just annoyed him.

Now as he tossed aside the paper, Tonks's mobile face suddenly appeared in the flames of their fireplace.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

"Tonks!"

"Shirker!" she cried. "That Prophet article said you were an inch from death's doorway and you look good enough to lead a battalion against some Death Eaters to me!"

Harry winced. "Well..."

"Listen - can I come through?"

"Sure."

Soon enough, Nymphadora Tonks stood flicking ash off her clothes onto the carpet.

"I'll fix that, don't you worry."

She reached for her wand in her pocket, struck her elbow against the mantel and knocked all the curios off of it.

"Oops."

"I'll get those, Tonks," Harry said, hurrying up to the fireplace and carefully picking up a small figurine of a unicorn, studying it to be sure it wasn't broken.

It suddenly struck him to wonder why Snape had a figurine of a unicorn on his mantel. He knew so little about his bondmate.

Maybe, he thought now, as he was going to be here for the foreseeable future, it was time he learnt...

~0~

While Tonks visited with Harry, Snape was delivering the latest batch of healing potions to the Infirmary. He was reading Poppy's assessment of the efficacy of some of the specialized ones he had brewed and had borrowed her quill to jot some notes down when she startled him by speaking.

"The healing can go faster, you know."

Snape looked up to find her carefully counting out the potion bottles and entering them onto the Infirmary ledger. She did not look at him.

"Poppy..."

"We are currently alone and there's no need to be shy. We are both adults and I am your healer as well as your husbands'."

Snape fought a wince as he looked around, but they were indeed alone.

"We are bonded. That is as much as I will concede. It is not a... love match."

"Look, I don't care about the reasons or what your marriage is like, you are both of age and it is none of anyone's business but your own. I am speaking as your healer. The fact that you are treating him like a delicate flower is doing more harm than good and actually slowing both of your healing processes. He is perfectly capable of having sex. In this instance, having sex would also be of great benefit for you both."

Snape grit his teeth and said nothing.

"Have you even informed him that his healing would be aided by sexual contact?"

"Poppy..."

"I thought not. Tell him! The sooner he heals, the sooner you won't have to deal with his boredom and the less likely he'll be to wind up collapsed and on the front page of the papers."

"And if I choose not to?"

"I'm his healer, as well, and this pertains to his health. I'd be remiss not to mention it if you don't. If he doesn't wish to have sex, that's one thing, but if he doesn't even know about the option--"

"Fine."

Snape seethed, but he finished the note he was making and setting her report on the counter before her, he strode out the door.

~0~

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll ask him."

"Really, I..."

Before Harry could finish speaking, the door to their quarters opened and a weary-looking Snape stepped in, then paused as he noticed Tonks.

"Wotcher, Snape!"

Harry winced. He could have told her based on how Snape looked alone that this was a spectacularly bad time for either questions or cheeriness.

Tonks was oblivious.

"Ms. Tonks," Snape gravely intoned, looking at Harry briefly.

"I'm glad you're here, Professor, because I need, well, we need your permission for Harry here to come to my mate's medal ceremony. End of this week. Ministry Hall. Huge, huge thing for the ministry. Won't take no for an answer."

Snape drew in a breath and Harry knew what his answer would be.

"I'm afraid, Ms. Tonks, that no will have to be your answer. Neither Mr. Potter nor I are able to attend."

Nymphadora frowned. "What's this Mr. Potter stuff? I thought you two we--"

"Tonks!" Harry shrieked.

She jumped and stared at Harry who warned her with his eyes, blushing furiously. He couldn't believe the temerity of some people.

"Ms. Tonks. Whatever relationship Mr. Potter and I have it is none of anyone's business but our own. Now, I believe you have taxed Mr. Potter's energy and my patience quite enough for one day. Would you please leave?"

She glared at Snape.

"See here, you great big bat - I was just being polite! Harry has every right to go to Remus's medal ceremony and you can't stop him!"

The muscle by Snape's eye twitched and he strode to the fireplace and reached for his box of floo powder... and missed. He stopped, looked at the mantel and frowned.

Harry winced.

"Uh... I'm sorry. It was my fault. I put them back up there and I wasn't sure where everything went."

Snape looked at him, then picked up the box of floo powder from its new place and opened it, extending it to Tonks.

"If you please, Ms. Tonks. I need a word with my bondmate."

Nymphadora knew when she was not wanted, but she clearly did not want to leave Harry to face Snape alone.

"I'll go. You promise to treat Harry right, though. If you hurt one hair on his head, I'll--"

"I'm quite sure you can do damage, Nymphadora. It does seem what you're best at," Snape murmured nastily.

Harry winced again. He knew Snape was not happy, but he wished he didn't have to take it out on everyone else.

"Why you--!"

"Please."

Harry surprised himself by finding he was standing between them. He placed a hand on both their forearms. He squeezed Snape's arm slightly, placatingly, and urged Tonks with his other hand toward the floo.

"Tonks, I'll write you, okay?"

She glared at Snape, and then relented. She quite deliberately kissed Harry's brow, took a pinch of floo powder and turned back to Snape, waving a sooty finger in his face and sprinkling floo powder all over the carpet.

"The mantel wasn't his fault. I dropped everything when I came through. So don't blame him!"

Then she threw what was left of the powder on the fire and stepped in, shouting, "Ministry Of Magic!"

Snape said nothing after Tonks left. He merely took out his wand, removed the soot from the carpet, then turned to the mantel and stared at his belongings, noting their misplacement.

Perhaps it was apropos; everything seemed misplaced of late. He sighed.

"I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know where anything went and--"

"It is of little import. I can re-arrange them."

Snape kept his back to Harry as he began to do so, but as his fingers touched the small ivory unicorn, Harry spoke.

"If you don't mind me asking - was that a gift?"

Snape paused, looking at the tiny figurine in his ink-stained palm and then to Harry.

"My mother gave me this when I was a boy."

To his bemusement, Harry fought a smile.

"It's nice," was all he said, though.

"Indeed." Snape put it on the left side of the mantel, near the box of floo powder he'd already placed there. He picked up a small, engraved silver apple and placed it a little to the right of the unicorn.

"And that?"

He looked to Harry and considered, then sighed again.

"Albus. He gave it to me on the anniversary of my first year teaching. There is a Muggle tradition about taking an apple to your teacher. Albus was fond of obscure bits of trivia. He thought I needed a memento of the event."

Without prompting, he picked up a tiny silver teacup and the small, strangely ornate stand it was on and placed it near the middle of the mantel.

"This is from your Head of House. Something of a challenge. When I became Head of Slytherin House, the house cup had been Gryffindor's for many years running. Minerva informed me so it would remain and that even if Gryffindor lost the house cup, it would never, so long as she was able to draw breath, be Slytherin's."

Harry smiled. "She is a bit Quidditch-mad."

"Indeed. She gave me this cup at the end of my first year as Head of House. She told me it would be the only cup I would see whilst she was Head of Gryffindor."

"You didn't win that year?"

"No. However, Slytherin won each year thereafter... until you arrived." Snape cleared his throat.

"If it's any consolation, I'm sorry I broke your record."

"Really?"

"Well, I'm not unhappy Gryffindor won, but I know how bad it feels to break a winning streak."

Snape nodded and tried to think of how to bring up the dreaded subject Pomfrey had forced upon him.

"What's that then?"

Harry interrupted his thoughts and he looked at the object he had indicated with his chin. It was the last object on the mantel, at the far right hand side, seemingly apart from the rest because there was nothing between it and the silver cup in the middle.

A round, flattened disc, carved of Beech wood and embossed with gold, so perfectly made it felt satin-smooth to the touch. It was on a small tripod stand made of the same highly polished wood and Snape winced to see that whoever had put it back on the mantel had placed it upside down. The ornate lettering looked utterly alien that way, he noted.

His fingers clenched into a fist and he fought to keep from reacting. His voice was rough, however, when he answered.

"The Malfoy's presented that to me... when I became Draco's godfather."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry."

He refused to look at Harry now, reaching up to fix the token and willing his fingers not to tremble. Properly placed on its stand it read deuxiéme pére.

He closed his eyes against the incipient headache and finally shook his head.

Without a further word he escaped the room, leaving behind a worried Harry.

~0~

Harry felt awkward.

He had almost gone after Snape when he'd left earlier. He wanted to say how sorry he was that Draco had died in the final battle. He wanted to say that he had changed his mind about Draco those last two years; that he'd thought Draco wasn't so bad after all. Such things though, coming from his mouth, would be unwelcome, he knew.

So he stayed in their quarters and worried. Then he wondered if he could talk to Hermione about it, which led him to wonder if he was being disloyal to Snape somehow by revealing such a thing. Their whole relationship confused him. Perhaps it was best if it was dissolved after he got better.

If he got better, he thought as he made his way to his bedroom, kicked off his slippers and then realized he was too tired to call up a single wandless "Nox."

After retrieving his wand and needing two tries before he managed the spell, he decided he would talk to Pomfrey about it tomorrow. Maybe there was something else he could do to get better faster, and get out of Snape's hair. He felt more like an interloper than a bondmate. That afternoon's mantel incident only reinforced this feeling. Shouldn't he know more about Snape? Was it wrong to ask questions? What did Snape feel about their bonding anyway?

They hadn't done anything since the week of their wedding. After that amazingly revelatory wedding night, Snape had mostly avoided him, until one night when Harry had come to their shared bedroom and found him nude on their bed again. Snape had haltingly suggested they should have sex again, this time with him on top. It would, he said, facilitate a more balanced bond.

Harry had no objections, despite never having bottomed. He knew Snape wouldn't hurt him, and they'd already had sex so it should be no big deal.

As it turned out, it had been rather a big deal. Snape was surprisingly knowledgeable. There was a moment as he strained on all fours while Snape painstakingly prepared him that Harry had actually embarassed himself by thinking that Snape was, in fact, a Sex God. Until that time, Harry hadn't known he was even capable of coming four times in one night.

The memory of that night still gave him a raging erection. He had harboured some unspoken hopes that it might be repeated, but so far, nothing. He tried to ignore the throbbing between his legs now to decide what was best to do.

It was no good, though. He couldn't ignore it and he finally opted to give in. He hadn't wanked since before the final battle, so it was over a week now and obviously his body wanted some attention.

He turned onto his side and reached down to push his pyjamas beneath his bollocks, then slowly began to stroke his aching cock.

~0~

Snape finished his second glass of house wine in the teacher's lounge and scowled as he poured himself another glass. The wine was good, but not nearly strong enough for his tastes, and he refused to return to his quarters just to get hold of his brandy. Going to Hogsmeade was out of the question in his current condition. He was far too maudlin and far too emotional.

Poppy was right. He and Potter were doing poorly and the answer was simple. Or it would be if he didn't feel like he was taking advantage of the situation.

Harry was a beautiful young man, in the style of Greek athletes of old - compact, flat-muscled, well-proportioned, fine skin with a hint of honey to it. He'd been graced with strong limbs and an exquisite face, masculine, but with a hint of fragility; just enough to remind one this was not a young god, but a young man. Snape felt old and used and pathetic next to him.

He guzzled down the glass of wine and suddenly felt a warm glow settle over him, slowly concentrating on his groin. He frowned.

To his chagrin, he began to get an erection. Not a minor uprising as happened from time to time during the day, nor a reminder to use the facilities, but a bonafide boner, hard as stone and uncomfortably confined in his pants. Even as it manifested he could feel the drain, the increasing pressure in his head, and the heaviness in his limbs. His bollocks began to tingle.

He could sense the slight swell of feeling, the pull from the bond, and he knew his bondmate was pleasuring himself.

Angered beyond reason, Snape got up and rushed down the corridor toward the staircase.

Foolish, insensitive brat!

~0~

Harry had only begun to really get into his masturbation session, pushing his hips into his fist, when the door to the quarters slammed open. He froze, listening to Snape stride in. He waited in the dark of his room, hoping the man would just go to bed or at least leave him alone, when the door to his room slammed open.

He hastily threw the bedcover over himself. Snape was breathing heavily, and Harry noted now in the light that spilled through the door from the other room that the man looked poorly. His skin tone was splotchy; he looked tired to the bone and his normally greasy hair looked even lanker than usual, tangled about his neck.

"You... fool..." Snape breathed.

Harry frowned.

"You take my strength. I didn't want to touch you... out of courtesy to you. Out of ... concern for your sensibilities. Yet... you drain me... without a single thought for my ... feelings."

Harry considered all this, then paled, feeling himself shrinking.

"You mean you could tell I was, um..."

"You were pleasuring yourself. It comes from me. The energy to do that is coming from me," Snape replied. Then he shook his tired head and added, "It's hopeless. You will continue to take without considering what it does to me. It is how it always has been."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I wouldn't have if I'd known--"

"I told you, you foolish, foolish b--"

"Don't call me a boy!"

Snape was taken aback and Harry pressed his point.

"I'm not a boy. Not after we've had sex. Not after what we've been through. Call me names if you like, but don't say I'm a boy."

Severus stood, looking down at his bondmate, a haze of anger and lust filming his vision and he took a lurching step toward Harry.

"You are right. You aren't. And if you need sex, then it is up to me to give it to you."

Without preamble, Snape yanked at his collar and ripped open his robes. Buttons scattered even as he stripped off the garments and soon he was wearing only a pair of visibly distended trousers.

Harry gaped at this, and then edged back a little on the bed. Surely he wouldn't?

Snape took more care with his trews, unbuttoning them and pushing them down after kicking off his low boots. He stood before Harry, nude and hugely erect.

"What do you need, Harry?"

Harry flinched at the intimate use of his name and could not find his voice. Snape did not seem to care.

"My mouth? Would you like me to suck you? My hands? Do you like a good hand job? Or do you prefer my cock? Shall I grease you up thoroughly and plumb your depths and fill you with my strength?"

"I..." Harry's mouth went dry and his wilted cock sprang to life. He swallowed as it began to throb in his lap.

"The last, I think, is best for us both."

Without a further word, Snape threw aside the bedcovers and slid onto his bondmate.

~0~

It was nothing like that first night Snape had taken him. There was little gentleness, but Snape was still quite thorough.

Those long, talented fingers reached deep within him, spreading warmth along with lubrication. When they withdrew they pressed along a spot that made Harry whine, then flush with embarrassment.

Snape had not bothered to turn him over, merely placing a pillow beneath his hips, so Harry was able to watch his bondmate's face as he worked.

He would never again think of Snape as impassive. Those eyes told everything as he thoroughly took possession of Harry, and it was a claiming. Harry knew it, could feel that, even as Severus's eyes proclaimed it with every heated glance.

Every time his fingers found a new pleasure point, those dark eyes would gleam with satisfaction. Every time Harry winced, the gleam in them would die and those fingers sought old pleasure points and stroked them until Harry gasped with pleasure again.

Soon, Severus slid between those bent knees and he braced himself atop Harry with that rigid, thickly veined cock pressing at his opening.

It felt like stars, like triumph, like the rushing wind as Harry felt himself filled, felt himself taken.

Snape moved within him fast and hard and good and when the head of his cock prodded that pleasure spot inside, Harry cried out and Snape moved faster still.

In the haze Harry was in he could barely hear anything except the rush of his own blood, but as they moved in this strange and savage dance, he suddenly realized he could hear his bondmate. He kept saying the same thing over and over as he thrust into Harry.

Severus was taller than he, so his face was beside Harry's, his panted breath in his ear as he moved. Sweat dripped from his hair onto Harry's neck and face, but he found it unbearably erotic. This was his bondmate, his bondmate's sweat, his scent, his passion, his essence.

Harry began to ejaculate without a single touch to his penis, his seed striping his neck and chest and Severus's stomach.

"Mine," Snape growled one last time before he began to come deep inside his bondmate.

~0~

Severus lay catching his breath, grateful for his long hair that covered his face, even with the dark of the room.

He felt... shattered.

The urges that had filled him upon entering the room and finding his bondmate pleasuring himself were unspeakable.

He was surprised he had managed to retain his sanity long enough to ensure Harry found pleasure in his taking. Taking it was, too, he would not deny it. He had claimed Harry, taken him, and he wasn't sure if he could let him go... unless Harry insisted.

Whatever Harry wanted, needed, he would provideâ€¦ even if that meant his absence.

~0~

Sometime later, Harry roused in the dark.

He felt amazingly good.

He looked to Severus and found the man peacefully sleeping on his belly beside Harry.

His face did not look splotchy anymore, although he could only see his lips and chin and neck in the dim light. His breathing was deep and even, though. His hair was still greasy as ever.

Harry smiled as he touched those black strands and wondered if Snape had ever tried decent shampoo. There hadn't been any in the en suite bathroom they shared and when he'd asked what he could use to wash his hair, Snape had merely pointed to the bar of soap.

So that's why his hair is so lank and greasy, he'd realized.

"What's so amusing?"

Harry jumped, and then realized Snape's eyes were slitted open, their gleam hidden in the shadows.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"Just resting. How do you feel?"

Harry considered this, and then smiled.

"Better."

"Good. Poppy was right. We did need to do this."

Harry frowned. "She never said anything to me."

"She expected me to tell you, as your bondmate." Snape sighed and turned, sitting up, before explaining honestly, "I've avoided the issue. I... figured you would find the act repulsive and unnecessary."

Harry's frown deepened as he considered this. Snape's tone had been even and matter-of-fact.

"But we've had sex before. Why would you think that?"

Snape sighed again. "Yes. We had sex because we had to. This... we don't strictly have to. You will eventually recover if you allow yourself to rest and gain your own strength."

"But I'd get better faster if we had sex."

Snape eyed him. "Yes."

Harry nodded then, relaxing. "That's fine with me."

Snape snorted, then essayed, "I suppose at your age there are more pressing considerations than how unattractive your partner is."

Harry frowned again. "Is that what you meant when you thought I'd find this repulsive?"

The muscle by Snape's eye twitched, but he merely nodded.

Harry reached over and took his hand.

"No. You are not the sort of person I normally consider that way, but you are not unattractive, Severus."

Snape pulled his hand away. "There is no need to flatter me. I will concede to have sex with you until you are fully healed."

"I'm not trying to flatter you."

"Then you are endeavouring to engage in Gryffindor charm. You needn't bother. I know what I look like, Harry."

Harry smiled. "I think I like it when you say my name."

Snape stilled, then looked to him. "Don't be foolish. When you are well, you will look back at this and... cringe. Keep it as it is. Keep it... a necessary duty. It needn't be more and then it will be easier later."

That said, Snape got up and picked up his torn and scattered clothing. He paused at the door, the light from the other room limning his tall, pale, nude form as he turned back slightly to speak, not looking at Harry.

"Good night."

The muscles between his shoulder blades quivered for a moment when Harry softly replied, "Good night, Severus."

~0~

Snape woke in the pre-dawn hours to the sensation of Harry snuggling up behind him... naked. His erection was nudging at the base of his scrotum. He froze.

"Shh... It's okay," Harry whispered.

Snape managed to extricate himself and turn to look at his bondmate sternly.

"We can't. I mean... not like this. While you are debilitated, I can give you strength, but until you are well, it's not very practical for you to--"

"Top?"

Snape flushed. "Yes."

"Oh." Harry settled back, frowning.

"Did you... had you..." Snape wasn't sure how to phrase his question.

"I would like sex, yes. Please," Harry added with a slight smile to show he wasn't upset about having his plans changed.

Snape nodded, then squeezed Harry's arm. "Give me a moment in the loo."

Harry nodded and watched as Snape slid out of bed and headed for his bathroom.

Snape soon returned, having used the toilet, brushed his teeth and washed his face. He didn't want to take the time to shave, so Harry would have to put up with his bewhiskered cheeks and chin.

He approached his bed and paused. He had never had sex here, not on this bed. He'd never brought anyone to his rooms as a Professor. He'd never found anything but solitary pleasure here. It was a trifle unnerving.

To be having sex with anyone here seemed wrong, but to be having sex with Harry... it seemed almost sacrilege.

"Is something wrong?"

He looked to Harry and shook his head, unwilling to admit his feelings. For some reason, this made him dizzy.

"I can feel it, you know," Harry said quietly and he fixed him with a sharp gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"I can tell you... you feel odd."

"How so?"

"I can tell you feel... uncomfortable for some reason," Harry clarified.

Snape swallowed. "You feel what I'm feeling?"

"Not exactly. It's more like... an echo. When I look at you or think of you... I can pick up a faded impression of what you are feeling."

Snape frowned and Harry sat up.

"Is that bad? You said I'd feel more when I got better. I thought this meant I was getting better. Doesn't it mean that?"

Snape sat down on his bed, back to Harry and he ran his hands through his hair. He looked pale and unsteady.

"Severus?"

He froze, then turned to look at his bondmate and tried to speak without agitation.

"You're not at the level of strength yet where I would have thought it possible. It's... a possibility with the bond, for some people. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"What can it mean?"

Snape closed his eyes and sighed. Was he never to have a single thought to himself anymore? Fear rushed through him, but he tamped it down.

"It's... it means the bond might be stronger than we thought at first."

Harry considered this, then shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

"Oh, well, that was good then. It helped us beat Voldemort."

Snape nodded, flinching a bit at his old master's name. He could not help it. It had been, in some cases literally, beaten into every Death Eater that their leader was not only supreme, but immortal. Familiarity with the Dark Lord meant punishment, and if he was especially displeased, it meant death. Severus did not think he would ever be able to say his name freely without fear.

He remembered one time now when he'd been about Harry's age, elated with a discovery he took to the Dark Lord. Young and full of self-importance, he'd crossed one of the Dark Lord's boundaries. His stomach clenched and his back muscles rippled now as he remembered his punishment...

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you."

Snape stared at him now, a haunted look in his eyes. Harry pursed his lips.

"Is this a bad time then? For sex, I mean?"

Snape blinked and stared at Harry who watched him, and then finally sighed, striving to relax.

"No. If you require sex, as your bondmate, I shall endeavour to provide it."

Harry giggled and Snape glared at him.

"I'm sorry, but you sound so serious."

"Do you not find sexual matters serious?"

Harry considered this. "Sometimes. Mostly, though, it's just... fun."

"Fun."

"Yes."

Snape thought back over his own sexual history, of lies, furtive coupling in the dark without words, tense with as much fear as lust, of whores, of coercion, of harsh laughter, of rape, and swallowed tightly, closing his eyes. He could feel the sting in them and swallowed again, past the tightness, past the harsh dry feeling that made him think he would choke.

We are too different, this bright young man and I.

He drew in a startled breath when he felt Harry slip his arms around him suddenly and hold him. Snape was frozen with uncertainty.

"I'm sorry it's not always been... pleasant for you. I didn't know," Harry said softly, almost sadly. His voice was a whisper as he added, "No one should go through anything like that. Nobody."

Snape swallowed harder now and fought to keep from succumbing to a raging fit, or possibly, tears. He felt close to both. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

The bond asserts itself...

It had to be the bond and his own fatigue, sapping his vaunted strength of mind, of will. He should be frightening the boy with his wrath, driving him away. Instead he was fighting to keep from trembling in his arms, fighting to keep from the humiliation of tears, of giving in, of letting go.

Severus lost his fight not with Harry's next softly spoken words, but with the waves of warm comfort that flowed from his bondmate as freely as water from a tap washing soil away. In this case, it washed free his fears, his buried feelings, exposing them to the crucible of their bond.

His chest tightened, his eyes began to burn, his shoulders hitched without his consent as the feelings began to rip through him. For the first time in his life he did not feel weak or inadequate for his loss of control. Harry did not let him, merely holding him tighter and whispering in his ear.

"There's no shame in crying. Honest."

~0~

His name was spoken over and over. A gentle sound, soft and sibilant, it sounded like a benediction.

He'd never heard it spoken that way before, but then he'd never been held this way, through pain and anger and tears. So many tears it felt as if the room could not contain them all and still more came.

He could not breathe, he could not, and yet somehow he did. His strength was not ebbing as he'd feared, but growing stronger. He felt the room stop gently rocking and felt his center of gravity return and he was sitting on his bed being held by his beloved bondmate.

Snape froze.

When had he started thinking of Harry this way?

"It's all right," Harry soothed.

Snape wondered exactly how he meant it. He was too tired to think, though.

He found himself being gently pulled, tugged down, back down to his pillow on his bed and his long, long legs were stretched out and the fragrant warmth beside him snuggled closer and he breathed deeply. Snape slept.

~0~

Harry took rather longer to sleep, full of deep feelings, mostly a great swell of tenderness toward his bondmate.

He wanted to hold him until all the pain was gone. He could sense he nearly had.

Somehow, he also felt stronger now. It was like when Snape had fucked him - giving him his essence.

In a way Harry supposed Snape had given him something. Not seed, but tears. Not strength of the body, but strength of the spirit.

Harry had felt ten feet tall while he held Severus. Now, looking at his softly snoring bondmate, he felt quite small, but quite safe.

He was, he knew. He was in the arms of his beloved.

~0~

Severus drifted on a dark, dreamless river. He floated, free, serene. It was a marvelous feeling and he savoured the quality of his sleep. It was rare that he could sleep so well, so deeply.

It was not the movement that woke him, nor even the touch, but the awareness of the bond pressing him, filling him with gentle coruscating tingles of magic.

It swirled around him and through him, focusing on the spot where Harry's mouth surrounded him.

He groaned.

Harry was in his bed, lying on his side much as he was, except that Harry was gently, slowly, thoroughly sucking his cock.

Snape moaned.

He became aware of Harry's hand, which was firmly stroking the base of his cock up to the point where his lips were sucking. Up and down, slowly and deeply in the same rhythm of the sea he'd been gently floating on.

"Harry..."

The movement got faster, harder, and he fought to keep from thrusting, but he couldn't help the jerking of his hips.

"H-Harry..."

Harry swallowed, his teeth gently pressing just below the glans, scraping lightly on his frenulum, even as that warm hand stroked up, even as Snape froze, feet arched, toes curling, and his cock shot out blasts of come, painting Harry's lips and cheeks and neck.

He continued to shudder for some time after, feeling the intensity of his orgasm in each jolting aftershock. Had he ever come so hard?

"Oh, Harry..."

He turned to his bondmate now, concerned, but found him smiling, an impish expression as he wiped his face and neck with a corner of the bed sheet.

"Good morning to you, too."

Snape relaxed. He cleared his slightly sore and congested throat.

"I thought we'd agreed that I would be the one giving, not the other way around."

"I feel great. How about you?"

Severus considered this. He actually felt quite well, apart from the grittiness of his eyes and the soreness of his throat, which he knew was attributable to his crying jag. He flushed at this thought, but nodded at Harry.

"I'm fine."

"I meant what I said earlier."

Snape frowned and Harry took his hand and squeezed it gently.

"There's no shame in crying."

To his chagrin, he reddened even further, but he said nothing, looking away.

"There's no shame in wanting your bondmate, either."

Snape turned to stare at Harry who merely stared solemnly back.

"Don't say anything yet, let me talk."

Snape closed his mouth, surprised to find he had opened it and nodded.

"I think you've been thinking that our bond is something I wouldn't want or find shameful and disgusting, am I right?"

Snape drew in a breath and nodded again.

"Well, you've never had the right end of the stick about me yet, so that's not surprising."

Harry smiled to take the sting out of his words.

"That first time in Potions class-- you thought I wasn't paying attention when I was actually writing down every word you were saying. You've done that since then, every time you think one thing about me it's usually been wrong. And you're wrong about this, about us.

"I'm not disgusted. I'm not ashamed. I told my friends when we bonded. They might feel disgusted or ashamed, but I can't be held responsible for how they feel. Just me. And I don't feel disgusted or ashamed of having to be with you, of having sex with you, of being bonded. I can't. There's nothing shameful or disgusting about it."

Snape sighed. "You say that now, but--"

"I'll say it next week. Next month. If you like I'll say it once a week for the next few years until you begin to believe me."

Snape stilled.

"Years?"

Harry smiled. "I'm not a shallow person. I'm not good at love-em-and-leave-em. I like being with one person, learning all about them... coming to care for them, growing closer."

Snape considered this, but said nothing.

"You don't believe me, but you will."

Snape drew in a breath and tried to still his thoughts, especially since it seemed he was broadcasting them to his bondmate.

"Is that a prophecy?"

Harry smiled and drew closer and put his arms around Severus.

"Consider it a promise from your bondmate."

~0~

FIVE YEARS LATER

"Harry?"

Snape brushed off soot from his robes, and then used his wand to tidy up the carpet. He listened, but heard nothing.

He felt along the bond and sensed Harry's amusement. His bondmate was in the Great Hall, apparently playing with Weasley and Granger's latest offspring. He received back a warm welcoming rush of affection for his troubles, and Snape sighed, gratified.

Their bond had cemented firmly in place with their first coupling, although they hadn't known it for a few weeks. By then, it hardly mattered. What one needed or wanted, the other strove to provide it. The bond had made sure of it; first increasing Snape's protective nature, and then Harry's compassionate one.

The two were a formidable pair, and while Severus's Potions students appreciated their slightly less imperious professor in the classroom, Harry's DADA students found him a rather more serious one, one they only underestimated once before being squarely brought to order. The same worked in reverse as Harry taught Potions forms 1 through 4, whilst Severus taught Defence forms 4 through 7.

Snape looked at the mantel now where a small gold apple sat atop its stand, a third of the way between the silver cup and the Malfoy's godparent gift. He'd given it to Harry on the first year anniversary of his becoming a professor.

Two-thirds of the way between the gold cup and the Malfoy's godparent gift to him was Ron and Hermione's godparent gift to Harry for their first born. No doubt another would join it soon, Snape thought now.

There was one other memento Snape had, as well, but it was not kept on the mantel.

Severus lifted his hand to look at the platinum ring he bore. It was inlaid with gold writing in his husband's distinctive hand that encircled the ring with the sign of their commitment.

Severus Meus - Compar Meus - Obligatio Meus

~0~
END
~0~

post A/N:

- yes, yet another bonding fic, I fear, however, those two simply would not succumb to passion without a little assistance. I hope this does not detract from your reading enjoyment.

- yes, calico's are usually female, but I wanted Harry to be unique even in his Animagus form. :)

Posted: 29 July 2006 to reversathon 2006

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