My Own Personal Boggart

My Own Personal Boggart
by writing as Terrence Tripplehorn for lj's reversathon
Date: 13 July 2007
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Snape, Neville, Hermione, Poppy
Word Count: 15,970

Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings:
[ Neville is 17 here - of age in the UK and the Wizarding World, indication and discussion of past torture & non-con (not the main pairing), humil, forced exhibition, angst, h/c, wanking, voyeurism, nipple play, oral, hand & blow job, frottage, rimming, a few truly execrable puns]

Disclaimer: All the characters are Rowling's. The situations they're in are mine. No profit was made.

Summary: Branded a traitor by the Death Eaters, broken and damaged after the war, Snape is still expected to face trial, but receives assistance and refuge from an unexpected benefactor.

Author's notes: Magic makes many things possible, but it ceases to be magical without the injection of a touch of realism. Rowling does the same, by giving us a protagonist who is a powerful wizard and yet his poor eyesight cannot be fixed. Magic sometimes cannot cure things and I delineate one particular scenario here that could explain why another character was not able to partake of the same treatment. Also, the legal procedures mentioned here do not exist outside the magical world or, indeed, my own head, and I do hope any readers who actually work in the legal system are not offended by the doubtlessly odd peculiarities contained herein.

To those who feel Hermione Granger would not be so knowledgeable after only four months - I would respectfully suggest they ask a trainee medic sent to a war zone how much experience they received in their first two weeks, much less after four months.

I must also say here and now, it was most difficult to understand Old Mr. Snape at times, particularly since his original tongue had become muddled by over twenty years spent in gaol in Leeds amidst a mix of men with their own dialects. So my deepest apologies if it is difficult to understand him. I have done my best to provide translation via the bright and charming Miss Granger.

That said, I hope you are not disenchanted with the rather morbid beginning of my meretricious little tale, but are able to continue to the ~~smuttier~~ brighter happenings further on.

Remember, in every cloud there is a silver lining... and a goblin crew trying to mine it!

It was only four months, Neville calculated.

It had only been four months since Snape had killed the Headmaster and disappeared. Now it was All Hallows' Day and they had finally found him. It had taken Remus and him a few minutes to break through the odd locking charm and pry the heavy cell door open.

The rest of the Death Eaters had already been killed or captured. There had been no sign of Snape since his escape on the Tower, and there had been no sign of him during the final battle, and the absence had disturbed or angered more than a few of the Order members, especially Harry.

Before her death, Bellatrix had told Harry and him exactly what Voldemort had done to their spy, their traitor. He had been caught trying to send a message to Dotty Ickle Potty as she called Harry. Still angered, full of resentment, Harry had told her he did not care what happened to the filthy murderer.

Oh, how she had laughed! Poor Severus, she had said unsympathetically. He never did know who his real friends were.

The entire exchange was going through his mind now as he stared at Snape in horror. It had only taken four months to bring a man to this.

How much of that time, he wondered now, had been spent here in this dark, filthy cell? How long had it been, in other words, since Voldemort had determined Snape was a traitor and a spy and not a loyal Death Eater?

It had been long enough, apparently, to learn his place, to learn the way of things.

He would never forget the sight of his Potions Professor, his very own personal Boggart, naked and trembling as he struggled to position himself, arse up and toward the door they'd just opened, head down as he waited for what was far too horribly clear to them both. He had been here long enough to know what the other Death Eaters expected of him, and his body revealed the price of that knowledge.

"Dear God," Remus had groaned, staring in revulsion at the partially healed welts and whip marks crisscrossing that pale, skinny back.

Neville, on the other hand, could not stop staring at Snape's bollocks. They looked... odd, like wrinkled leather gloves and it disturbed him. He had never thought he would ever see them, or for that matter, Snape, naked at all.

Remus had hurried forward, stripping off his cardigan as he did, and knelt by Snape, who cringed and cried out.

"Easy, Severus. Good God, man, what have they done to you?"

Lupin had transfigured his cardigan into a robe, which he gently slipped around those bony shoulders, finally covering the ravages that fragile-looking body displayed.

"L-Lupin?"

Neville's throat constricted on seeing him turn sightless eyes to Remus, on hearing Snape's voice, once so strong and harsh and now so thin and weak. He suddenly knew, without being told, exactly what had been done to him, and he vomited where he stood.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Hermione, the Order's medic and now a trainee Healer apprenticing with Madam Pomfrey, had confirmed Neville's horrified diagnosis long before he got to St. Mungo's -- Voldemort had blinded and castrated Snape.

It was a heinous thing to do, but not as horrible if he had been Muggle, she informed them, whilst looking sadly at the sleeping Snape. If they had the right material on hand, which was not a certainty, it would only take a few weeks to grow new testicles and implant them. If they did not have the needed material, there were other options.

The outcome of his eyesight was rather more difficult to determine, his eyes having been hexed, not merely removed. More advanced healers would have to determine the best course of action.

She did not know, however, she told them privately in a very sad and sombre voice, how long it would take him to heal mentally and emotionally from all that had been done to him, if he ever healed at all.

In the interim, even Harry's pale and trembling insistence was not sufficient to deter the Ministry from taking Snape into custody and charging him with various crimes of war.

Neville had surprised everyone by speaking up.

"He has private counsel. I insist he be remanded to me now you've charged him, until his trial is set."

The Auror, a thin and pox-marked Ministry peon none of them knew personally, was startled.

"Who are you?"

"Neville Longbottom. My grandmother was Augusta Longbottom and my Uncle Nigel Trent is our family solicitor. He's also Professor Snape's."

The Auror was taken aback. "Well..."

"And I insist his trial not be set until he is fully recovered! He's gone through a terrible ordeal. It's a... a disgrace to... to the Ministry to try a sick and injured man like that," he managed to stammer out in his haste.

"It's already a disgrace they want to try him at all. He's ill and injured thanks to his efforts against the Death Eaters," Remus added.

The Auror finally relented.

"Very well. As it happens, the Wizengamot cannot convene for a couple of weeks yet, at least, thanks to the war. I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to remand him to your custody. However," he wagged a finger at Neville. "I have to bind him to you, to ensure he doesn't run off. And you will sign an affidavit that you will bring him to the trial once the date is set."

"Fine."

He took the sleeping Snape's hand as instructed and the Auror pointed his wand. A wave of light glowed softly over them and, for a brief moment, Neville felt the discomfort of lying on a sore and aching back and the dragging fatigue that kept him from fully waking to do anything about it.

Then he was staring down at the heavily bandaged hand he held. What little skin he could see was bruised and chapped.

He finally nodded as the Auror reminded him of his duty. It was difficult for him to pull his hand away to sign the affidavit. He did not question his actions, though. It was simply, for him, the right thing to do.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

"So this is the infamous Severus Snape who has been bonded to my nephew?"

"You are--?"

Snape fought to keep from wincing as he spoke. His voice was a mess, thanks to long bouts of screaming through torture. He hated that he sounded weak and raspy.

"Nigel Trent, Esquire." He looked over to his nephew, who sat quietly by Snape's bed. "I'm Neville's uncle."

Snape nodded uncertainly.

"I'm also your legal counsel now. Apparently, my nephew appointed me without prior consultation."

Snape nodded. He did not know the boy was sitting there, although he had heard someone next to the bed. He had assumed either the Order or the Ministry was keeping an eye on him and that it was someone watching him to make sure he did not escape.

"I see."

"I filed a statement of refutation on your behalf, affixed with the medical testimony of one Madam Pomfrey, resident nurse and a Healer in good standing of Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as that of her apprentice, trainee Healer Granger, plus the statements of the two who discovered you, one Remus J. Lupin, and my nephew."

Snape cringed a little, but nodded.

"It may take more than that to get the Ministry to see reason and drop all charges, with the exception of the charge of murder. However, I am given to understand that the Headmistress of Hogwarts is willing, indeed, insists on testifying and states she has mitigating evidence."

He frowned at this.

"Minerva?"

"Minerva McGonagall, yes. She claims that the man you are accused of murdering, one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore left sealed memories and a diary detailing a plot worked out between you that called for his death at your hand."

"That's fantastic," Neville enthused now, relieved. This caused Snape to startle. "Oh, sorry, sir. I guess I should have told you I was here."

Snape shook his head.

"No matter. I heard someone beside me, but I did not know who it was."

"Just me. I knew Uncle Nigel was coming you see, so..."

"Do not get me wrong, Mr. Longbottom, as I am extremely grateful for your actions, however, I also find them baffling in the extreme. Why have you... done this for me?"

Trent watched his nephew who suddenly looked haunted; he had wondered the same thing himself.

"Well, sir... Remus and I found you... er..."

Snape coloured, cringing again.

"So. Pity then," he managed to squeak out with no small measure of disgust.

"No. Well, maybe a bit. It's just... we know what they did. It was wrong, and it was because you were helping us all along and I couldn't just stand by whilst they carted you off to Azkaban without even caring you were properly treated or anything," he finally burst out in one breathless statement.

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Snape finally said after a moment. His tone was not insulting. Trent's however, was.

"Tut tut, dear man. That is not Gryffindor bravado. That was spoken like a true Longbottom."

He said it, however, with a smile for them both.

Their camaraderie hit an unfortunate note, however, when Nigel regretfully informed them both he needed to witness Snape's injuries personally, in order to affix his own corroborating statement.

"I, uh--" Neville was stammering.

"It's fine, Longbottom," Snape tried to bluster, but failing as his voice trembled ever so slightly. He cleared his throat and managed to assert, "after all, what haven't you already seen?"

Neville's face grew scarlet, but he said nothing. Trent merely waited and Snape finally began to feel for the fastenings to his robe with trembling hands. They were still bandaged, though, and this made it difficult for him to do anything.

"Let me help," Neville began, but his uncle lifted a finger.

"Nay. The Ministry is most strict about this sort of corroborating statement and only a healer or trainee healer can do this if a defendant needs assistance. Please wait."

Trent stuck his head out of the room, waved his wand down the hall. After a moment, Hermione came in. She smiled at them all.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape. Neville."

"Miss Granger," Snape managed. Neville merely nodded nervously.

She winced a little.

"I'm given to understand Mr. Trent requires me to, er, help you undress?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. I must corroborate the extent and type of Mr. Snape's injuries."

"Very well," she managed briskly, stepping up to Snape, and then gently placing a hand on his arm. "This will only take a moment, sir."

Without further word, she pulled her wand and placed a locking charm on the door. Then she turned and reached for the fastenings of Snape's garment and began to disrobe him.

Her face expressed great pity and concern as he began to helplessly tremble, although she managed to keep it from her voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry it's a bit chilly in here, sir. It won't be very long now."

Soon, Severus Snape lay naked before them all. She was not sure exactly what Trent required, but she cleared her throat and forced herself to recite his injuries in as dispassionate a voice as possible.

"As you can see, sir, the patient has dozens of cuts, score marks, hex marks and contusions on his legs, arms, hands, feet, and torso. These marks on his ribs were made by a Whipping Hex. The scoring here on his stomach is from an AcidFlesh Curse. Several fingers on his hands have been broken or dislocated and were too long untended to be reset with a standard bone-healing spell."

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that the bandages must be removed so I can see for myself."

"Very well," she replied calmly, and she efficiently unbandaged his hands with a simple charm. "There."

"Indeed."

Neville winced at the sight of those swollen, purple hands. He remembered how elegant they normally were when preparing potions.

"The discolouration of his palms is from burns caused by the direct application of fire or possibly hot tongs."

"That is sufficient. Pray continue with your recitation of his injuries."

"Well, you cannot see it, but the privation and incarceration left the Professor with a case of pneumonia, which we've treated with Pulmonary Potion. The extreme angularity of his torso and especially his rib cage demonstrate he was starved. This hip has a bone bruise, and his leg muscles bear the mark of numerous Jelly-Legs Jinxes, Tarantallegra and Cruciatus. His f-feet," she cleared her throat to hide the growing horror. "They bear the mark of various burning hexes, as well as direct application of fire or again, hot tongs."

"They made me walk on coals," Snape whispered, trembling all over now and unable to stop it. "I fell at least once."

"Your hands," Hermione breathed.

"Yes." It was all he said, and she blinked back tears and swallowed to continue her recitation. "His, uh... scrotum, um..."

Trent cut through her stammering with a remarkably calm, but insistent tone of voice.

"I'm very much afraid, Miss Granger, that you will have to move aside the defendant's penis, so that I might better view the site in question."

Hermione winced.

"I am so sorry, sir," she whispered to Snape before applying a Shielding Charm to her hands and gently doing as Trent instructed. She pointed with one hand as she held Snape's penis up with the other. "The scrotum clearly shows where the, uh, testes were removed, quite likely with a sharp instrument."

"MacNair's knife," Snape whispered.

"And, as you can see, someone carved the word 'traitor' above his penis."

"Lucius," he said with a sigh.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. What, if any, are the medical consequences of such an injury?"

Hermione gently released Snape and winced, but gamely answered, "Well, the decrease of testosterone causes a decrease in semen production, difficulty in obtaining an erection, as well as some loss of penile and larynx size over time. There is typically loss of body hair, as well."

"These conditions are mitigated if the condition is reversed?"

"Some can be, yes, although, not always. The condition cannot always be reversed, as well. There are some treatments that can be utilized to help with the condition, if that is the case. Moreover, there are other considerations. I only listed the physical symptoms. In a mature Wizard, the loss of his... testicles, his potency, if you will, is closely correlated to a loss of magic. Not all of it, but a good percentage. This also will return if the condition is reversed."

"Thank you again, Miss Granger. Now, if I may ask - what about Mr. Snape's eyes?"

She looked to the pale and stoic Snape and moved her hand to his face to gently stroke back his hair. She could feel him trembling.

"They were, um... cooked, Mr. Trent."

"I beg your pardon?"

For the first time Trent seemed to lose his calm phlegmatic nature.

"The best we could determine was that a Heating Hex was applied either over and over or continuously--"

"Continuously," Snape interjected.

"--and they were literally cooked within their sockets," she finished in a tight voice.

"Great Mouldering Merlin..." Trent murmured, before composing himself. "I'm terribly sorry. Pray continue."

Hermione dropped her hand uncertainly.

"That's what--"

"The defendant's back, Miss Granger. Madam Pomfrey's and your former testimony included details of injuries to his back, as well as the indications of forced sexual injuries."

Neville winced as Snape cringed, but Hermione merely nodded.

"Sir," she gently touched Snape's shoulder. "Would you mind turning, please?"

After a moment, Snape did, glad to hide his face even if he could not see anyone in the room.

"Whipping Hexes, all over his back, and some, as you can see, rounded his torso to finish up on his ribcage in the front. These small scars here are where a hot poker was applied. This particular scar is a bite mark."

"Animal?"

"Quite human. Too old to gather forensic evidence, I'm afraid, but you could certainly match the teeth marks to--"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Snape murmured.

"Just so." Hermione paused, then pointed to Snape's buttocks. "There is extensive bruising, both inside and out--"

"Miss Granger."

It was all Trent said, but she nodded and gently touched Snape's lower back as she apologized again, then with her still shielded hands, she gently spread his arse cheeks.

"This ridging is indicative of penetration with a foreign object. The scars extend as far in as Madam Pomfrey could determine."

"The head of Malfoy's bloody cane," he murmured.

"The bruising and tearing is indicative of forced penetration, likely by more than one assailant."

Snape made an odd sound and finally whispered quietly, "All of them."

Hermione closed her eyes, then blinked back the tears, released him and continued to quietly speak.

"These odd scars along his buttocks are nail marks, where finger nails broke the skin. These especially long ones, here and here, were made by a woman."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. To finish... please indicate your findings of the peculiar scarring across the defendant's upper buttocks."

Hermione's voice was pained, but clear.

"That appears to be where someone attempted to brand the words 'half-blood traitor' with something hot, like a poker. The word traitor is misspelled," she finished with a whisper, placing her hand on Snape's lower back again in a comforting touch, horribly aware it was all she could do for now.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

It took another few days, long enough for Snape's feet to heal enough so he could walk, before he could leave St. Mungo's in Neville's custody.

Neville was glad to get Snape away from the curious eyes of those who knew what had happened and wanted to come stare at him. Even if Snape could not currently see, he found it disrespectful at best, and downright gruesome at worst, and despite his best efforts to stay by his side and keep him undisturbed, there were still moments when he had to eat or go to the loo when he'd returned to find Snape being gawked at.

He had not seen it himself, but his Grandmother had told him how people had come to gawk at his parents after their hospitalization; how even their friends had seemingly not been able to stop themselves from coming to stare in pity or anger. The stories had always filled Neville with an impotent anger; he could not do anything about events that had taken place so long ago. However, he could do something about Snape's travails right now, and it went a long way to assuaging his buried feelings of outrage and anger.

His reputation for being nice and rather bland took a blow from all the shouting and swearing he had done, not to mention threatened hexes to the more obnoxious looky-loos, particularly the Daily Prophet reporters.

One had managed to get a blurry picture of Snape in his hospital bed, and it was this image which graced the front cover of that evening's edition, the headline declaring: Dodgy Death Eater Dossing About On Public Dole - Disgraceful!

Neville's uncle had taken action so swiftly that the next morning's edition had a most apologetic retraction, as well as a rather smaller interview with Hermione, who had given a statement of Snape's general state of being. Without giving one salient bit of information away, she nonetheless managed to convey the seriousness of his injuries and her own impression of sympathy for his plight.

She could not, she told them, be more forthcoming as the Wizengamot had still not convened, much less considered his case, and for the time being, he was simply a patient at St. Mungo's and not to be disturbed. There were no more visits by reporters after this, and Neville was relieved when finally told one day that he could take Snape home.

His unspoken reason for gratitude was less altruistic.

His Gram had passed a few weeks after Dumbledore, just long enough to see him reach adulthood and be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix, two events that filled her with great pride. She had bid him to always follow his heart and to find someone to be with who had a good head on their shoulders, because much as she loved him, she knew he would need a partner smarter than himself to navigate through life.

Neville had not mourned overmuch, seeing as she had been frail from an odd summer cold, thanks to sitting and reading in the drafty lounge, which had left her a bit weak, and when she'd caught Summer Fever in its wake, it had finally finished her. She was very old and it was simply her time, the healers had assured him and he had agreed.

Still, it had left him all alone at Longbottom Manor, a big drafty house with naught in it but sticks of furniture, dry paintings of old relatives and seemingly endless staircases. He was pleased he would not be there by himself for the time being.

He had swiftly urged the house elves to shut up the rooms upstairs. He had them convert Gram's favourite parlour into a bedroom, and the attached solarium into a rather cheerful and tropical-looking en suite bathroom.

When he had decided to bring Snape home with him, he had them clean out Gram's own ground floor bedroom for his use. It already had an en suite bathroom, plus it was wainscotted and he figured Snape could use the filigreed edge of wood to find his way around the room.

He demonstrated it to him, described the bathroom, and then watched Snape finger his way along the room, then more confidently find his own way to the bathroom door without assistance. This pleased Neville no end.

Whilst Hermione had been kindness itself, the indignity of needing assistance with the toilet had been yet another piled onto the poor man, and Neville wanted to try to help him regain as much of his independence as possible.

This was sorely tested from their very first night.

In St. Mungo's, with sleep potions readily available, there had been no problem. Now, at Longbottom Manor, with no sleep potions and Snape unable to brew them, Neville faced a conundrum.

He could not help it; when he heard Snape cry out in the night he went running into the bedroom. How could he not?

Even if he had not been able to hear him, though, the bond ensured he could feel him, particularly the stronger emotions, and he had come to learn that Snape was a man of powerful feelings.

When he gone to the room, he knew Snape was suffering, but he had not expected his formidable ex-teacher to be curled on his side, struggling to silence his sobs and choke back his tears.

He had not expected the feelings that coursed through him, either, the need to ease his pain, to comfort.

"Just leave me," Snape had managed to choke out, and Neville had, hating himself, but not wanting to adversely affect their uneasy and uneven situation.

He could not keep away, though, on the second night, when the screams reached ear-splitting levels and he had had to waken Snape from whatever nightmare he was experiencing.

He had been almost incoherent with fear and pulled away from Neville when he had gently touched his shoulder. Their bond intensified with contact, and Neville could feel the fear and anxiety as if they were his own. He pulled his hand back.

"It's all right. It's just me. Neville. I won't hurt you."

"I-I can't see."

"I know. We're working on it. Remember? Hermione will be coming in a few days to let us know what can be done."

"Done?" Snape frowned, and then touched his eyelids briefly. To Neville's shock, his face crumpled and Snape looked away, cringing.

"I'm sorry."

Snape nodded, but a sob escaped him and he bent his head in, hiding his face, and Neville could not stand it anymore. He took one of Snape's hands and gently rubbed it, trying to send what comfort he could, wondering if Snape even felt it or if the bond was one-way.

"Hey, it's all right. Remember what the healer said? Even if there's nothing else, they can always give you a magic eye like Professor Moody's. You'll be able to see again."

Snape nodded, biting back sobs, and finally squeezed Neville's hand with his own.

"I... didn't remember. I only remembered the cell, and the dark." His raspy voice dropped to a rough whisper. "I'm still in the dark."

Neville sadly shook his head; apparently, the bond did not work the same way for Severus as for him. He strove to sound confident.

"No. No, you're not. You're not alone. I'm here. And you'll be well again one day. It'll be all right. Just wait. Just you wait."

Snape trembled, slowly calming. He finally sighed, before he essayed in a hint of his former acerbic tone of voice, "I notice you didn't tell me to wait and see."

It was almost a joke and Neville almost smiled.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

"As you know, we can't grow a new limb to reattach, at least not an effective one, but we've had great luck growing new organs, and testes are organs. However, we would need, er, regenerative material in order to grow functional ones. Otherwise, we'll end up with inert testicles that we could implant for cosmetic purpose, but which would otherwise be non-functional."

"I understand."

"Muggle medicine has helped us make strides in re: treating someone in your condition. They prescribe a course of testosterone to replace the hormones your body cannot produce. They apparently use injections, pills, creams and patches. You would have to go to a Muggle physician, but as it so happens, I liaison with a Squib doctor who is highly discreet. I could refer you."

"I don't think that will be necessary."

Both Poppy and Hermione looked nonplussed.

Finally, Poppy spoke. "Severus... I don't wish to pry, but this affects your entire physical and emotional outlook, not to mention your sexu--"

He lifted a hand, causing her to pause.

"You misunderstand. I don't think it will be necessary because, as it happens, regenerative material may be available. If the Headmistress did not destroy it, but considering my safeguards..."

"You mean to say you have some of your own sperm stored somewhere?"

Snape's lips quirked. "Indeed. It is an ingredient used in many potions, as you know. Because it can be used for Dark Arts, as well, I always took great precautions in not only storing, but concealing it."

"You could tell me where it is?"

Snape nodded. "I can even provide the passwords for you to bypass the protective charms."

Hermione beamed. "That's wonderful! If it's there, and if it's viable--"

"I placed stasis charms on most of my fragile materials. It should be perfectly viable."

"Then we can start the process straight away."

Neville also smiled. "That's great!"

Snape cleared his throat. "Poppy, do you remember my storage cabinet, by the drying cabinet?"

As they began to quietly converse, Neville turned to Hermione.

"Um... how long does it take?"

"Growing an organ takes a few weeks. Re-implanting or replacing one takes a few hours. It's a very delicate, if not terribly difficult, surgical procedure."

"But it'll work? I mean, like before?"

Hermione nodded. "Severus should be back in fighting trim within a few days of re-implantation."

Severus clearing his throat again caused everyone to look at him.

"There remains the problem of my vision," he reminded the two healers.

"Yes. I'm afraid the solution is a bit radical," Poppy sighed.

"Go on."

"Since the loss of vision was caused by a permanent hex, we cannot repair them. However, we might be able to replace them. If you permit us to remove the currently damaged ones, give the area time to heal and for us to grow you new ones, then we could implant new eyes."

Neville winced, but Severus nodded. Hermione looked to Poppy who nodded at her, then continued.

"There is one problem, however."

Snape nodded.

"The fact they were so badly damaged means there isn't any viable tissue left to use in the Ocu-growth Solution."

"So you require a donor."

"Preferably by blood, yes. Alternatively, by blood magic. Familial connections always seem to work best in these situations, though."

Snape's face twitched briefly, but he said nothing, head dipping down, and hair covering his face. If they had not known he was blind, they would have thought him to be staring at his still partially bandaged hands in his lap.

After a moment, he spoke again, without lifting his head.

"I'll owl you, Poppy. I... may have a donor."

Pomfrey had known him long enough not to argue or press him any further. She merely gathered up her apprentice with a nod.

"I look forward to your message. Good day, then, gentlemen."

"Good day," Hermione parroted, following Poppy to the Floo.

Neville thought Snape might talk, but instead, he got up and headed unerringly toward the door to his room. Once there, he shut the door behind him.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

It was not until the next afternoon that Snape said more than two words to him again, and they were uneasy hours for Neville, who could only silently suffer along with Severus through their bond.

Neville had brought a luncheon tray of sandwiches and a bowl of soup to Snape, hoping to entice his lacklustre appetite from the morning.

"That smells good. Asparagus?"

"It looks like there's asparagus in it, as well as some duck."

"Soup?"

"You've got a good nose."

Snape almost smiled. "The benefit of being a Potions Master. The good ones develop a keen sense of smell."

"Well, you're definitely good," Neville agreed. He put the tray over Snape's lap. "Here you go. The soup is right before you. There are sandwiches to your left. I'm taking one right now."

"Thank you."

Neville perched on the edge of the bed with his sandwich in hand, staring at Snape for a moment. He was still not used to hearing those words from this man.

"Long-- Neville. There is a thing... no. There is a favour I would ask. I know I have no right to do so, seeing how you've done so much for me already."

"Not at all. I'd be happy to help. What is it?"

"First, do you know anything of the Muggle world beyond Muggle Studies?"

"I didn't take Muggle Studies, so no, not really, to answer your question."

"I was afraid of that. However, Miss Granger does. She could accompany you."

"Where would we be going?"

"To gaol."

Severus would say no more for the rest of the meal and Neville was afraid to breach the silence, wondering instead about the odd mix of loathing and dread he could feel from him.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

It took Hermione two weeks to set up a meeting with Tobias Snape and in that time, Snape's fingers healed, as did most of his hexes. Both were grateful in that Severus hated needing help to bathe, and both Neville and Hermione knew exactly how wretched and vulnerable he felt at having to accept the assistance.

It was not so much his nudity, anymore, or at least that wasn't most of it, as it was having anyone seeing the injuries he himself could not. He could feel them, however.

It was difficult, but he bit his lip to swallow the waves of emotion he experienced when he soaped up his mutilated scrotum for the first time on his own.

Where once hefty bollocks rested, there was now a wrinkled sac of flesh, like an old, empty wallet. He was fortunate, he knew. Many could not recover from such an injury at all, and the fact hope existed for him was heartening, but it still bothered him -- particularly when he recalled how it was done, something he fought to keep from his mind, but it returned now whenever he bathed.

MacNair. The knife. Brutal hands holding him down. Fenrir and Bellatrix laughing. Pain.

He cradled his empty scrotal sac gently and cursed his stupid eyes. His sight was taken, but he could still cry and this infuriated him, even as it filled him with shame.

On the other side of the door, Neville hung his head at the pain he could feel, and the muffled sobs he could hear, and wished he could do something.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

That night, Snape dreamt of Lucius, of his cane. To his horror, he could feel his body responding to the stimulation, despite the onlookers and the pain. He cried out and thrashed, but it was hopeless.

He did not want it to happen and he felt twice violated. How could his body respond when he no longer had bollocks?

He arched his back and screamed.

"Severus!"

His eyes slid open, unseeing, and he cried out again.

"It's me. It's Neville. You're safe."

"Ne-Neville."

"That's right. You're safe and sound in Longbottom Manor." Neville patted the hand he held.

A bitten off sob was all Snape managed, before he tore his hand from Neville's and turned away.

He tried to tell the boy to leave, but his voice failed him. Instead, a sob escaped and he bit his lip. His whole body began to shake.

He jumped when he felt the warm presence press against his back, slide around his body and enfold him. He did not push Neville away, however. He could not.

"Sh."

It was all Neville said. It was all that needed saying.

Neville had been holding Severus for what seemed like hours, subjected to the aching wretchedness he felt. It was actually far less time, but now he could feel faint glimmers of shame and regret sifting through the pain and sense of helplessness. Before he could say or do anything, Snape finally spoke. His voice was hoarse.

"You must think me pathetic."

Neville shook his head. "No. Not really."

"That makes one of us," Severus whispered tightly, using a fold of the bed sheet to wipe at his face and nose.

"I'd be more worried if you didn't get upset," Neville admitted. "I can't imagine what it's like."

"Be glad you don't have to know."

"I am. Believe me. I just feel bad that you feel bad. I... I can't do anything. So really, if one of us is pathetic, it's me."

To his surprise, Snape suddenly turned. It happened so quickly he could not move away.

Those slightly misshapen fingers reached up, found his face, held it in their grasp. He could feel... something odd and unidentifiable from Snape... mixed with the shame and regret of before.

"I don't want you to say that in my presence ever again."

Neville swallowed, then nodded. "Right."

"You might be hopeless at Potions, but you are not pathetic."

He nodded again, dumbstruck by how much emotion those sightless eyes seemed to convey. Severus let him go and he sighed with relief, although they were still pressed closer than he felt comfortable with face-to-face.

He had developed an erection as he had held Snape and managed to keep the bedclothes between them, but now, it was pressing against the man's pelvis. He dared not say anything.

Snape sighed, too, and shifted slightly and Neville reddened, and then froze. He felt hardness now against his own hip. He frowned as that odd feeling intensified.

He spoke to distract himself, but to his horror what he heard himself say was, "I didn't know that could happen."

Snape did not react. After a moment, he sighed.

"Nor I. I dimly recall a text I read once that had an obscure potion requiring the emission of a castrated man. I thought, at the time, that the potion was a hoax."

"But... how?" Neville dared to ask.

Snape was quiet for a moment, and then began to speak in his lecturer's tone.

"The testes create sperm, but spunk is not composed entirely of sperm. Men have a gland called the prostate that creates the majority of the fluid that is emitted. The fluid cushions and protects the sperm. If they are not present, the fluid is, apparently, still created. At least, this is my hypothesis."

Neville nodded, then realized Snape could not see him.

"Oh. That's interesting."

"I have not asked Poppy or Miss Granger. I dare say the mortification on both our parts would mitigate the desire on my part to learn more."

Neville smiled a little as he felt the amusement sifting through.

"I could see that."

Snape's lips quirked.

"That makes one of us. For now."

Neville could not help it, the amusement had grown, the first he had ever felt from Snape, and he giggled out of nervous relief. Then he sighed with greater relief as Snape manoeuvred out from under the bed covers and made his way to the bathroom.

He made his own way back to his bedroom, where he used a Silencing Charm and took care of his still rigid erection. He was fairly certain Snape could not hear him, but he used a Silencing Charm anyway. He was not sure if he could keep from calling out.

He had, in fact, been waking up from dreams about Snape and knew this was a very bad time to be harbouring such fantasies. He lived in dread of the man finding out. What would the man think of him? Already subjected to unwanted attention... it did not bear thinking.

It was not until he was using his wand to clean his hands and belly that it occurred to him that Snape could not do even something so simple as this if he had to. He had no wand. He had told Remus that Voldemort had broken it.

He wondered now how he would feel if he had no wand, and shuddered at the thought. Hermione had told Uncle Trent that there was a loss of magic which went along with being castrated, as well. Therefore, even if he got Snape a wand, it would not necessarily follow that he would be able to use it. This thought filled him with horror. He had to remind himself that Pomfrey and Hermione were both working to make Snape well. They would not stop working, he knew, until they had made him as well as they could.

This thought finally made him relax and he was able to finally get to sleep.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

"HMP Leeds, also known as Armley Gaol," Hermione intoned as Neville watched the taxi driver operate the vehicle they were currently riding in.

Hermione waved her wand surreptitiously, casting a Silencing Charm.

"Neville, Muggles can't Apparate. They don't have Portkeys or use the Floo. They walk, bicycle, or use a motor vehicle for transport. So they can't escape except on foot."

"No family wards?" Neville knew enough of Muggles to know some held great pride in their heritage.

"No. Just Muggle guards."

"Couldn't they overpower them?"

"It's possible, but they'd still be locked inside and before you ask, no, they don't know how to use locking and unlocking spells. They use keys, both metal and electronic, these days."

"Elec Tonic?"

"Electronic. It's to do with Muggle technical devices run by electricity or batteries."

Neville nodded glumly, clearly lost, and Hermione patted his hand.

"It's nothing to worry over, Neville. We have our wands and I am not going to let them take them away. Just leave it to me."

He nodded again, less glum and more resigned. After a long moment spent looking at the passing scenery, he finally spoke.

"I can't believe his father's a Muggle."

"It is rather hard to believe any of our teachers had parents," Hermione conceded with a smile. "I find it harder to believe Severus was ever a boy. I wonder what he was like."

Neville merely nodded, but said nothing, and Hermione felt it might have been her imagination when several miles later she thought she heard him mutter, "So do I."

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

When they arrived, Hermione paid the cab driver and urged Neville to accompany her.

They had valid visiting orders, and Hermione had pre-booked their visit as was required, however, it had taken a Confundus Charm to allow them both to enter with their wands.

Hermione had urged Neville to keep his hidden, much as she did.

After a series of inspections and inquiries, which Hermione handled, they were finally escorted into a Quiet Room as Hermione had requested when she booked the visit.

Within moments, a shabby, unkempt, unkind-looking Muggle man was escorted into the room. He wore handcuffs, and the guards were not wont to remove them. In fact, they attached the cuffs to a small chain at the back of the chair, something Hermione appreciated, given the man had been convicted of the cold-blooded murder of his wife.

Neville shivered, noting the resemblance to Snape immediately, but how had he ever thought any of Snape's expressions were unpleasant? This man was the epitome of unpleasant, far more disturbing in appearance than his son could ever hope to achieve.

Greasy, curly, silvered hair framed a hard, suspicious face. His only redeeming feature, in Hermione's opinion, were his eyes. They were surprisingly clear and grey and, when he lifted a brow at her in masculine appreciation of her appearance, she had a tiny glimpse of what Eileen Prince must have once seen in this man.

"Mr. Snape?"

"Aye. Tobias. Toby to my friends."

His voice was not quite as deep as Severus's, but very near. He hawked and spat suddenly, directing the gob of spittle to the rubbish bin near the door and scoring with surprising accuracy.

Hermione cleared her throat.

"Very well, Tobias. We're here regarding your son."

Tobias curled a lip and, for a moment, both Neville and Hermione could easily see an older Severus before them.

"Oh, aye? What's the shiftless oik done? Coming at Her Majesty's Pleasure, is he?"

"No. Actually, he has done quite well. He is something of a hero. He helped save several people, but was injured in so doing," Hermione replied.

"Fancy that. So, what's he not doing here hisself then, eh? Sent the pair o' ye to throw it in me face?"

"Nothing of the sort," Hermione said repressively, finding herself disliking this man intensely, but reminding herself to remain as polite as she could manage. They still needed him.

"He's been blinded," Neville suddenly interjected, hating the tension filling the room. "We can help him get his sight back, but we need your help."

"Oh, do ye now? And who would ye be, lad? His bum boy? I'd wondered if he weren't a crafty butcher. Soft lad, he always were."

Neville frowned and Hermione winced, explaining quietly, "He means to imply that you and Severus are, um, lovers."

"Oh." Neville brightened, then frowned, looking to Tobias. "I'm Neville, and Severus is staying with me. We're not lovers. And he's not a butcher, he's a teacher."

Hermione winced again. This time Tobias explained, "A crafty butcher, lad, be a man what gets meat delivered at his back door, iffen ye take my meaning."

Neville flushed and Tobias continued with a smirk, "So he's stayin' wi' ye, and ye claim ye ain't poofters, and he's a teacher now, eh? What's he teach?"

"How to make herbal cures," Hermione said quickly, before Neville could answer. "He's quite good at it."

"Hold on a ruddy minute, lassie. I know where that worthless son o' mine went to school, and I know what juggery pokery he be gettin' up to. Tried to poison me once, the worthless sod, so best try that again."

"Fine. He's a Potions Master and he's brilliant at it," Hermione sneered back. "In fact, he's one of the best in the world. You should be proud of him, whether or not he's gay and, frankly, I've no idea if he is and I wouldn't care if I knew."

Those oddly mercurial eyes gazed at her piercingly.

"Think you're a clever lass, eh? And what is he to ye, to defend him so? Get ye up the duff, did he?"

"I thought you thought he was gay."

"That don't answer me question."

"He was my teacher. Neville's, as well. We respect and care for him enough to come on his behalf, since he couldn't come on his own."

Tobias considered this.

"So ... the worthless little sod, what ain't been to see me since I got landed here, sends ye to ask fer me help. 'spect he's hurtin' bad to even bother. He knows what I'd say."

Hermione drew in a breath.

"I'm sure you're aware we could take what we need. We won't do that, though."

Tobias narrowed his eyes. "Oh, and why not?"

"We're not like you."

"I ain't never stole in me life!"

"Oh? I thought that is what got you landed in here, as you put it. You stole the life of Severus's mother."

Neville froze, wondering if he should get his wand out, sensing the man was fighting violent impulses.

After several deep breaths, Tobias finally spoke in a voice of forced calm.

"That boy tried to poison me. The daft cow tried to stop me from giving him the right beating he deserved. 't'were her own fault she got in me way."

"I suppose it's pointless to ask if you ever considered why he might have done such a thing," Hermione sighed.

"Him and his mother, neither one o'them were right in the head. Soft. Daft. Worthless."

"Well, he's not worthless now, regardless of what you think. So will you help us or not?"

He stared at both of them for so long, Neville wondered if he had forgotten they were there. Then he hawked again and spat at the rubbish bin.

"So. My worthless sod of a son's done been blinded and needs me help. What's in it for me?"

Hermione drew in a slow breath.

"What do you need? Keeping in mind that we cannot get you out of here."

"More's the pity. Well, then... there be fags, speg, maybe a few bicky bags. I ain't had a deek at a bongo mag in yonks. Come t' think on it, a huggins o' bongo mags would keep me in good with the lads in here."

Neville frowned and looked to Hermione who merely considered this request with decidedly offended sensibilities and great care.

"Very well," she finally replied. "So. Cigarettes, chewing gum, biscuits and pornographic material -- is that all you want?"

Tobias Snape sniffed and stared at them both for a moment. "Yer a witch. Ye must know a way fer a man to get wombly in here."

She spoke sotto voce to Neville, "He's asking for spirits."

Neville nodded uncertainly, but said nothing.

"It might be possible, but I can't guarantee that one. The others are no trouble."

"Well, then, we might have ourselves a deal."

"Might?"

"Oh, aye." Tobias sat up straighter. "You tell that shiftless son o' mine to come see me, hisself. When he can see, that is."

"To what purpose?"

He glared at her, amazed.

"I may think he's worthless, but he's still me own flesh and blood, ye dozy cow. I'd like to clap eyes on him and see what he's become."

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

"Never have I found myself hoping more that a potion wouldn't work," Severus opined.

"You don't have to see him," Hermione suggested, having finished relating the tale of what happened.

Neville was seated across from her on the couch, opposite of Snape who had taken to a particular wing chair near the fireplace whenever he sat in the lounge.

Severus shook his head now. "No, I think I've avoided him long enough."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. She sipped at her tea instead. She and Neville were both startled a few moments later at his quiet murmur.

"Let the devil see what's become of his spawn."

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

As they waited on word regarding the Regrowth Solution, Neville's uncle Nigel came for a quick visit to discuss Snape's case.

"The statements were accepted by the Wizengamot, although not without a great deal of headache-inducing discussion and enough owl messages that two of my birds suffered nervous exhaustion. A preliminary hearing has been set in place that you need not attend, regarding exactly what evidence is to be admitted," Nigel said with satisfaction. "I am not entirely confident that we may be able to avoid a trial entirely. I am reasonably confident that even if we cannot, that conviction is unlikely, however."

"I am not maligning your skills, Mr. Trent, so do forgive me for saying that I'll believe that when I see it... assuming I ever do see anything ever again."

Trent accepted this assessment and opted to change the subject.

"No luck on that front, I take it?"

"As it happens, my new implants are being grown and there is every hope for recovery."

"Excellent! I'm very pleased to hear it."

Neville watched them both as a momentary silence fell. He suddenly felt wry amusement along the bond and hid a smile, aware Snape was about to make one of his rare witticisms.

"Since you are quite obviously a well-bred gentleman, Mr. Trent, I will answer your politely unasked question in the affirmative, as well."

Nigel smiled from Snape to his nephew who blushed.

"Well, that's wonderful," he enthused. "I'm delighted."

Neville had the sneaking suspicion he was referring to more than one thing, as well.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

That night Neville felt something odd through the bond and went to investigate.

It was not anything he had felt before, not pain or fear or shame or anxiety or amusement. It was almost... anticipatory.

He silently opened the door to peep in on Severus and was startled into stillness.

Snape lay back, naked atop his bedcovers. One hand was clutching what looked like a wadded up sheet of loo roll, the other... the other was gently fingering his erection.

Neville felt himself go hard almost instantly.

He should leave, he knew, but he was riveted to the spot, mouth dry as he watched Snape gently stroke along his cock.

"You're still the same, aren't you?" he whispered and Neville was hard-pressed to keep silent, wondering if the man had sensed him.

He had not, however. It appeared he was speaking to his erection.

"You don't feel any different, despite what Miss Granger said. I wonder how you look. It feels so strange not to see you."

Neville thought the cock he could see was quite imposing, not thick, but long and veiny and dark. Those long fingers gently stroked, pausing near the head to pull back the foreskin and, with one finger, gently rub just under the head.

Neville bit his lip as Snape arched his back slightly and pointed his feet. He did this repeatedly, each gentle swirl of his finger making his feet twitch.

"Oh, God, yes..."

The sense of want, of longing, filled Neville now and he fought with himself to remain where he was, not daring to move for fear of discovery. Snape must never know he had seen this, must not know he watched.

"Oh, yes, please..."

Snape had fisted his cock with one hand and thrown his head to the side, clearly deep in a fantasy of his own making, as he gently but methodically milked it. His other hand let go of the tissue he was holding and moved to his chest where he began to pluck, then pinch, his nipples. This made him thrust a bit and Neville stopped fighting the urge to touch himself and slipped his hand down into his pyjama bottoms.

He watched Snape pull and twist his nipples, wondering now at why he had never tried that himself. He wondered if it would feel as good as it did to Snape.

"Yes... yes... oh, God, Neville..."

Neville froze, dumbstruck, then watched in amazement as Snape tossed his head and pushed up, up into his fist and shuddered his completion.

To his horror, he felt his own penis jerk and pulse warm spunk over his fist and into his pyjamas. He stood shaking with reaction, fighting to keep from making a sound. Then, carefully and silently, he closed the door again, and headed to his bedroom.

In Snape's room, Severus gently wiped at the fluid, hoping he had gotten it all. He carefully wiped the end of his cock and then slowly sat up. He waited until the dizziness eased, then padded his way to the bathroom where he flushed the soiled paper down the loo.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

"Well, Severus dear, I can finally say the words you've been waiting for: it's done. They're ready."

Snape nodded at Pomfrey.

"Unless you've no objection, we can start on your surgery straight away."

Neville held his breath as Severus considered this.

"What of my eyes?"

"They're coming along nicely, but won't be ready for at least two more weeks. They're rather more intricate to grow. I thought you wouldn't want to wait on this, though."

Severus's lips quirked, although Neville could only sense trepidation and wonder at it.

"I'm grateful, Poppy, for all your hard work on my behalf. I... I'm guessing you would rather I be at St. Mungo's?"

"I know how you hate the attention, Severus, so I came prepared. It is not a complicated procedure, not dissimilar to handling a splinching. The difficult part is growing them. With Hermione's help, a little prep work, and Neville here to distract you, I dare say we can do it right here in your room. I will have to make the bed higher, though, so as to see what I'm doing."

"I'm grateful, indeed," was all Snape said, but Neville could feel his genuine relief through their bond.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Poppy and Hermione had stripped, to Neville's mortification, and Scourgified one another. They were not the least bit modest, as it was standard practice for all the healers taking part, as well as the patient and anyone watching. It was new to Neville, though, whose mortification grew as Poppy ordered Hermione to Scourgify Snape and him as she saw to the room.

Hermione helped undress Severus with a flick of her wand, then waited as the blushing Neville took everything off and left it just outside the door. He stood in the doorway as she Scourgified every inch of him, not knowing where to look, but soon the fact he wasn't the only one naked made him feel more at ease. It also helped Severus, he realized, who could not see him, but who at least knew that he was not alone in his travail.

Poppy had then Summoned clean gowns for herself and Hermione. She had offered one to Neville, who looked to Snape before shaking his head, opting to keep the anxious man company, even if he could not see it.

Pomfrey nodded and carefully levitated Severus atop the bed. Neville sat beside him, and nervously took his hand, which, to his surprise, Severus firmly grasped. The contact intensified their bond and he could sense the fear as if it was his own.

"It'll be all right," he said.

"Indeed! All will be well." Poppy was bustling around in fine fettle, ensuring everything was in place as Hermione levitated the instruments to the table by the bed. Then she made the bed high enough for Poppy to easily see and operate.

"Very good, dear. The Regrowth Solution?"

"I'm keeping it in the bag until it's needed as it can be affected by light."

"I should have known you'd be thinking ahead," Pomfrey said with a smile of approval. "In that case, please give Severus some Calming Solution, followed by Blood Replenishment Solution."

Hermione urged him to sip from one vial and to finish the other before the Healer raised her wand.

"Adflictio Ablegare!"

Neville could feel Snape relax as all his pain lifted; even more than when Hermione had him sip the Calming Solution.

"I think I love you," Severus murmured with a slight smile in Poppy's direction, startling both his former students.

"Tosh," Poppy responded briskly with a knowing smile. "You say that to all the girls."

Neville and Hermione exchanged amused glances at the friendly repartee between the two work colleagues and friends of long-standing. It was obvious they'd had such exchanges before.

"You know there's only been you, Poppy."

"You're full of flannel, Severus. Over-indulgent, potions besotted flannel."

"Ah, but you are the one who always wants to see me naked--"

"Careful there, Severus."

"--and flat on my back."

"And with good reason," she lightly replied with a smile, sticking her hands out for Hermione to cast a Shielding Charm.

"I'm glad there's something of mine that impresses you." Severus's voice began to get groggy and he sighed deeply as he finished, "Meanwhile, I have yet to see more than your kind face... and gentle hands."

With that, Severus fell into a dozy state that was only occasionally disturbed by what the Healer and her apprentice were doing.

Neither could see what was happening as Hermione draped a shielding sheet over Severus's belly, for which Neville was grateful. He really had not wanted to see it; it was enough to know.

His quiet murmurs of assurance and the warm comforting squeeze of that hand in his were enough to quiet Snape when he roused on occasion, and make him drift back down into a state of dreamless bliss.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

The recovery time was minimal. In fact, the surgery had gone so well that he was fully healed within four days, with only residual soreness easily seen to with standard pain potion. Which was just as well, since it was on day five that Snape experienced his first hormone surge.

Even after his castration, Snape had been chagrined to wake up with a morning erection. Part of him reasoned it had more to do with the need to urinate than anything sexual, but it had bothered him.

Now he woke up not only swollen and distended, but also aching to be touched.

Touch he did, not just his cock, but also his tender bollocks.

"Go easy on them, dear, they're new," Poppy had told him teasingly before leaving the day after the surgery when she had come to check on him.

He had rolled his eyes and scowled, but now, he knew what she meant. They were still a bit sore, similar to how he remembered feeling two days after having been kneed in the groin as a boy. Yet they felt quite good as he gently cradled them, felt their heft.

He gathered them in a palm and tried to raise them up a bit and winced. Okay, still not ready for that!

Instead, he let them carefully go and began to toss off in earnest.

At his slightly opened doorway, a shame-faced Neville, who no longer asked himself why he was doing what he did, watched and joined him.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Later that morning, at breakfast, Snape spoke pleasantly as he assessed his eggcup carefully with fingertips in order to dip his toast soldier in.

"I take it you like what you see when you watch me?"

His tone was perfectly conversational and no emotional overtones carried to the suddenly frightened Neville.

"Uh... I... uh..."

Snape tapped his nose with a finger.

"What did I tell you was a benefit of being a Potions Master?"

"Th-that the g-good ones develop a k-keen sense of smell," Neville stammered, feeling his face grow hot.

"I recognize my own scent, of course, but I could also scent someone else. Spunk has such a unique aroma, don't you find?"

Neville nodded dumbly.

"A-are you angry?"

Snape chewed his toast meditatively.

"I must admit, at first, I was... nonplussed, to say the least. Then I was somewhat vexed at the privacy issue, however, I must admit I'm also... flattered."

Neville stared at him, and then suddenly Snape reached over to feel along his arm, before encircling his wrist. He pulled it toward him, taking his hand in his. His tone was calm, but insistent.

"Neville. There is nothing you have not seen. We both know how you found me. We both know what has been done. What have I to hide?"

He looked into those sightless eyes and felt wretched. Severus was right. It was another violation, what he had done, truly it was.

"I... I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"No, but it's understandable, given the circumstances." Severus sighed, relaxing his hold on him.

Neville kept silent, uncertain what else to say. After a moment, he felt a slight tug on his hand and looked up.

Those sightless eyes seemed to pierce him with the intensity of their gaze.

"I would only ask this -- do not come again to my room like that... unless you mean to join me."

Snape let him go then, but not before Neville felt the desire, the heated yearnings, flare through the bond.

He stared at the man, who seemed perfectly composed, and managed to mumble something affirmative before fleeing the room.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Thanks to the surge of returning hormones, Severus needed to wank now every few hours and again before sleeping.

He hoped this would be a temporary state of affairs, but he rather suspected it wasn't. He had not felt this randy since he had been going through puberty... when his testicles had first matured. This current set, they had also just matured. He had a sneaking suspicion his libido would match his host's for quite some time.

Unfortunately, the relationship between Neville and himself had been a bit strained, as well, since his revelation at breakfast two days ago, but he had only himself to blame.

He hadn't been able to remain silent, allowing Neville to continue watching him. He had been, as he had admitted, flattered that anyone deemed him worthy of such attention. More startled than angry at the discovery, he had been humbled when he realized that Neville had actually been watching since before the surgery which meant he had registered as a sexual being, not just a curiousity, to the young man, even in his castrated state. This went a long way toward making Severus feel rather better about himself and his situation. He had never before been considered an object of desire, even when he had been whole and unmarked. The feeling was... refreshingly agreeable.

Too, the thought of replacing his memories of what had happened to him with something else, something that promised to be pleasant and enjoyable, something desired by both, was almost irresistible.

He had never known a gentle or loving sexual touch, aside from a brief flirtation and mutual wank with Regulas Black whilst at school, and he could hardly classify that desperate, panting encounter as gentle or loving. Still, at least, it had been consensual.

They had never even kissed, though, he recalled. In point of fact, he had never been kissed at all, aside from a few perfunctory busses from his mother, and one sodden, more slobber than kiss, peck on the cheek from a drunken Minerva during his first holiday party in the teacher's lounge.

His reaction to this ensured none of the other teachers ever dared approach him in this way thereafter. He had been relieved to avoid even the comradely hugs some of the faculty members shared after that. He gratefully accepted friendly pats on the shoulder in lieu, with the sole exception of the surprisingly flirtatious Poppy Pomfrey. The rather less surprisingly outrageous Xiomara Hooch exempted herself by taking great pains every year to either pinch his arse or grope him indiscreetly after downing more than a few rounds of Firewhisky.

That was the extent of his so-called 'love life' thus far.

What had happened to him at the hands of the Death Eaters then had left him feeling soiled and besmirched, a figure of pity and shame, something he could not countenance. Therefore, the discovery of Neville's voyeurism had not angered so much as buoyed him.

Was it the situation, though, he wondered? Or was there genuine potential here? Was Neville even gay? Or was he just curious as many young men were before they settled down?

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Severus got his answer that night as he stepped from his bathroom and paused. He sensed the presence he could not see.

"I, uh... I hope you wouldn't mind some company."

Neville's voice was both husky and uncertain, and it made his cock twitch and begin to fill.

He shook his head, heading unerringly for the bed. He only wore a toweling robe, having just come from his bath, intending on sleeping nude.

As he got close to the bed, he felt a warm presence, and then started slightly when a careful hand touched his face, fingers sifting through the damp strands of his hair.

He turned to it and found himself being kissed, gently, but thoroughly kissed, for the first time in his life. It made his heart start to race, and his cock hardened fully, even as a moan escaped him.

Severus lifted his hands to touch Neville in turn and paused when they discovered a firm, warm and lightly haired chest; the boy was bare.

No, he amended now as his fingers slid through that hair, feeling the play of muscles, the hint of definition beneath those ribs. This was not a boy, but a young man. Not muscular, no, but sturdy and pleasant, and Neville was entirely naked he soon discovered as his fingers slid down to his hip.

With his other hand he reached up to touch Neville's cheek, sliding it back through his hair to cup his scalp and pull him closer, kissing him deeply.

Now Neville moaned and their kiss grew heated, tongues sliding, tasting, testing, as both moved even closer until they were holding one another tightly, pressing their hard cocks together through the soft material of Snape's robe.

Severus paused for breath and pressed his forehead to Neville's shoulder.

"Neville... have you ever done... anything?"

Neville nodded tightly.

"Yes. Dean and I... we... well, we tossed off together. He wanted to try more, but it never happened, and then he got together with Ginny Weasley."

Severus nearly sighed with relief.

"Then... we are evenly matched, you and I," he whispered, still pressed to Neville's sturdy shoulder.

Neville held his breath. Was Severus... what was he telling him?

"Uh..."

"Call me Severus. Please."

"Severus... you mean--"

Snape closed his eyes tightly and bit back a curse. They were just words, he told himself curtly.

"I have never been taken... willingly, no."

To his shock, warm hands that were holding his shoulders were suddenly slipping around him, and he was clutched tightly. It hurt his chin to continue speaking, but he had to finish his statement.

"I've never taken anyone, either."

Neville nodded, but said nothing and Severus suddenly felt a suspicious dampness by his shoulder.

"Neville?"

"We don't have to do anything," he whispered in a tremulous voice. "We can just... kiss, if you like."

Snape pulled back enough to slide a hand up and confirm what he knew. His fingers slid over tear-tracks and he lifted his other hand to gently wipe those surprisingly high cheekbones. He wished now, more than ever before, that he could see.

"Whatever you like. If I was not... ready... I would not have offered more, you know. I am not an innocent, nor am I particularly fragile, despite the circumstances."

"You... you're... amazing," Neville whispered, meaning it.

"I wouldn't know," Severus said with a smile. He stepped back a little, taking one of Neville's hands, and then led him to the bed.

"Let's just see what develops."

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Severus thought he might well die of shock and pleasure... and so far there had not even been any penetration.

Neville was surprisingly oral, and once he had helped Severus remove his robe, he had proceeded to gently lick, suck, and nip his way along Snape's throat, down to his chest.

There he worked at his nipples, licking and gently applying the edges of his teeth before nipping them repeatedly and carefully tugging, until Severus had cried out from the intensity of sensation, both nubs hard and reddened from his attentions.

Then he licked along the many scars, tracing the ones he couldn't reach with his fingers, loving all of Severus, including the mementos of his tortured past.

His tongue had continued its trek downward, to that intriguing navel which he had teased with his tongue before proceeding to apply that tongue to the wiry trail of thick black hair beneath it which led to that intriguing cock he had seen before, but from a distance.

Up close, it was a sturdy specimen, long and hard and covered with dark, veiny skin. At the base, where the word 'traitor' had been carved into his skin, Neville breathed deep. The scent there was musky and warm and he gently swiped his tongue over the word as if he could erase it with his spit and some pressure.

"Neville," Snape moaned.

He took one more deep breath, filling his senses with the incredible smell, before taking that cock in his hand, gently pulling back the prepuce and beginning to carefully lick over and under the glans with slow deliberation.

"God! Neville!"

He pressed gently with his body, keeping Snape from bucking too far, and kept licking. He felt Snape slip his hands through his hair and smiled. Then he opened his mouth and sucked that wonderful cock in.

Keeping his hand at the base and gently squeezing, he slid his mouth up and down over the end, pressing it with his tongue, tasted the salty, musky, slippery drop of clear fluid that decorated the head. It tasted so good. He sucked harder.

"I'm..."

Severus's hips bucked and Neville paused in his ministrations. He used his free hand now to reach up and as he took Snape deep into his mouth, pinched one of his nipples and sucked hard.

He ignored the cry this engendered, and focused on swallowing the heady, bitter stuff that spurted forth. He rather enjoyed the taste of his own and had wondered if he would like Snape's; now he knew.

Soon, Severus lay trembling, replete. He moaned, and Neville thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than Snape's head against the pillow, his hair tangled wildly about him, a stunned expression on his sweaty face.

He gently let him go, making sure to tug his foreskin back over his glans, and slid up to lay by him.

"I, uh, made sure to wank earlier, so I wouldn't be so randy now," he admitted, although he wasn't really sure how much longer he could wait; his cock was hard as a stone. Then, because he was young and needed reassurance, he essayed, "so... what did you think?"

Snape's response was non-verbal, and Neville soon found himself being snogged relentlessly as a firm, long-fingered hand stroked his climax from him.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

The next morning, they shied from kisses until Neville cast a mouth-cleansing charm on them both, and focused instead on rubbing their erections together as they ran hands freely over their bodies, still exploring, still learning each other.

Neville learnt not to explore the still sensitive whipmark scars on Severus's back. Severus learnt that Neville's nipples were not as sensitive as his own, but that his bollocks were almost painfully so.

Together they learnt of the pleasure to be found in mutually sucking each other, comfortably supported by the bed and various pillows, discovering each others most sensitive areas.

It was very nearly idyllic. Severus decided that, even if he did not regain his vision, he had gained so much else that it would be churlish to feel disappointment.

Still, when the bandages were removed from his eyes a week after the surgery, tears filled his eyes, and not merely from the unexpectedly painful reaction to light.

He only just managed to not sob, and was grateful for Neville's hand in his own, giving him much needed comfort and support.

Poppy's face was never a more welcome sight and he told her so.

She beamed at him. "And you, Severus Snape, are also a sight for sore eyes." Then she sobered. "However, I think you might not appreciate the difference."

"Difference?" He frowned.

A smiling Hermione placed a mirror in his free hand and he beheld his new eyes.

To his shock, they were not black, but a warm, clear hazel. He could easily read the shock in them, then the moment he reasserted himself. These eyes were most definitely a mirror of his emotions, he saw with disquiet.

"Disappointed, dear?"

He blinked, then looked over to Poppy who watched him with concern. He managed a slight smile.

"No. It's just... a surprise." He looked back in the mirror to assess himself, noting the strands of silver now in his hair where none had existed before. He nodded, then felt the warm hand still in his, tighten in reassurance.

He set down the mirror and turned, looking on his lover for the first time.

He was a bit taken aback at seeing the youthful face, but gratified to note there was no longer any hint of boy at all. His face no longer held any of the so-called baby fat of boyhood. It was a pleasant face and those blue-green eyes were filled with pure joy.

"Well? How do I look?"

Severus swallowed.

"Like a man. You are the best of both your parents. They would be proud."

Neville beamed.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

They shared breakfast with a delighted Poppy and Hermione, discussing things of little consequence. It was refreshing to Severus not to have to put his fingers in his plate from time to time, to assess where his food was, and his sense of gratitude and happiness grew.

This was an unfamiliar state of affairs and it left him feeling a bit odd, even after the two witches left for their duties.

Neville turned to him after, stepping close. Severus was a bit uncertain.

Not being able to see had lent itself well to intimacy, he realized now. Neville studied him uncertainly.

"Is something wrong?"

Snape shook his head. How to explain?

"It's all just... new. I think I need some time to assess."

Neville nodded agreeably, then stepped even closer to kiss him briefly. Severus found he had to force himself to stand still, to not pull away.

Neville eyed him as he pulled back, looking a touch disheartened, but it wasn't in his voice when he spoke.

"I'll let you get some rest then, or whatever. I want to go to Diagon. I'll meet you later, for tea."

Severus nodded, and watched Neville Apparate.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

The bath he'd taken had left him unsettled.

For the first time he had looked in the mirror and seen what exactly had been done to him.

The scars he could live with; there were just more of them now. It was the carving and branding that left him feeling decidedly nauseous.

How could anyone look on him this way and not see what had been done, not know, and in knowing, not feel either contempt or, worse, pity?

Was that what Longbottom felt? Was that why he'd brought him here? Was all they'd been doing born of pity?

Did Neville truly desire him or merely wish to assuage the hurts he could read in the flesh of his otherwise unremarkable body?

Severus dressed, glad to cover the foul words carved and burnt onto his skin. The one on his backside particularly bothered him, as it wasn't even spelled correctly. "Half-Blood Tratyr" it proclaimed. It was clear the same person had not done both. It was clear, he knew, to anyone who saw them that more than one person had assaulted him... disfigured him.

He was also glad now, that Neville and he had not chosen to have full on sex. The thought of presenting his arse, knowing his partner would not see him, but the brand, filled him with revulsion.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

"Severus?"

He woke from a nap, still a bit surprised to discover anew that he could see when he looked toward his doorway.

Neville stood with a paper sack in his hand.

"I brought dinner from the Leaky Cauldron. They had roast beef."

"I'll be right there."

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Neville's voice faded off as he watched Severus eating, meticulously using his fork and knife, every movement as precise as before, although his hands were still a little stiff, not entirely recovered from their ordeal.

Snape, he knew, was not listening. He could feel it through their bond -- the distancing, the uneasiness, the nervous tension.

He reached a hand across the table and took one of Snape's in his. The bond flared and he could feel the startlement, the fear. He frowned.

"I wish you could tell me what's wrong," he finally said with a sigh, before letting the hand go.

Snape swallowed.

"I told you earlier. It is a rather large readjustment to have to make."

His eyes, though, those warm hazel eyes he'd never expected to see looking at him from Snape's face, spoke of evasion.

"You're lying," Neville said flatly, pleased to see him blink astonishment. "If you don't want to tell me, fine, but don't lie to me in my own house."

That warm hazel grew surprisingly chilly as those eyes narrowed.

"I am not lying."

Fed up, Neville pushed his plate aside and let his inner Gryffindor speak for him.

"Yes. You are. I can feel it. We're still bonded, you know." He stood, looking down at the open-mouthed Snape. "You've been pulling away from me since you could see again. I'm not stupid, Severus. I know I'm not much to look at. Plain as dust like Gram used to say. So just tell me if you've changed your mind. J-Just tell me if you think I'm not someone you want to have s-sex with anymore."

He withdrew then before Severus could say anything, and even as Snape broke from his inertia to call out his name, Neville ran for his bedroom and slammed the door shut.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Without a wand, it was rather difficult to get past a door locked with a charm.

This was why Severus found himself on the stoop outside in the light of the setting winter sun, assessing the frost-covered grounds, before heading down the steps and searching for a ladder.

He finally had luck in an old shed in the back. It appeared to be a pre-charmed ladder apparently used to clean the windows. He had to wait for it to trot from window to window before it finally reached the one he wanted, the only one of two with a light shining in it, and he could climb it.

"Neville!"

His calls were ignored, so he rapped loudly on the window pane.

The still figure that had been lying on the bed jolted, then turned. He could see Neville look puzzled, then exasperated, before he got up and headed toward him.

"What are you doing out there?"

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm not re-enacting bloody Shakespeare," he snapped, irritated at the question. "Nor am I out here in the cold for my health. Open the window if you're going to lock your door. I've no bloody wand to dramatically fling it open and swoop down on you, as you well know."

Neville was taken aback by this, at turns confused, angry, then amused. He unlocked the window with his wand.

"Shakespeare?" He asked as he helped Snape clamber inside.

Severus grunted as he heaved himself over the window ledge.

"You know: 'But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?'" he quoted, finally standing in the bedroom he had not seen yet, adding, "I'm no Romeo and you would make a very hairy Juliet."

Neville snickered at this.

"Although," Snape sighed now. "Perhaps it is apt in that Romeo is confessing his feelings. Neville... I've not changed my mind, nor is it that I find you unattractive and do not wish to have sex with you anymore. Please do not think that."

"Th-then... what?"

Snape's lips twitched and he finally managed a weary smile.

"If anything, I am the unattractive one in this pairing, and it is you that ought to be reconsidering your decision. I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Frankly, I'm rather surprised things have gone so far. What is it that you possibly see in me, boy?"

Neville's expression hardened. "I'm not a boy. And you aren't unattractive."

"No, well, not to the first, but I stand by my assertion about my appearance. I..." he paused, uncomfortable to be standing discussing his feelings with someone that he abruptly realized he'd had sexual contact with several times already, but had never seen naked yet.

"Severus, I like the way you look. Your scars and hexmarks? They don't matter to me, except as signs of what you've been through. They make you more... masculine, if anything."

Snape looked at him, stricken. His voice was faint, but he forced himself to speak.

"I have my sins carved into my skin, Neville. Burnt in. Forever. Much as I might change that, they speak not so much of what I've been through, but what I am. What others think of me. A traitor. A half-blood. A... freak."

He only realized he was crying when Neville lifted a hand to his cheek and swiped at the moisture. His eyes closed then and he dropped his head, striving for a measure of control that he could not seem to achieve.

Suddenly, he found himself enfolded into those strong warm arms, and he closed his eyes, accepting the embrace, even as his body remembered. This was his lover. His body knew him, knew his feel, his sound, his smell. He clung to him now, to the blessed familiarity. He was not lost, after all.

"I think I've fallen in love with you," Neville whispered now in his ear.

Then again, Severus thought, maybe he was.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

This first time Severus could see his lover and see what his lover felt, Neville decided to remind him of their actual first time and to assert his feelings through his actions.

He began kissing him slowly and tenderly, not letting Severus go, slowly undressing him as he did, kissing, licking or sucking at every newly exposed part of him. He could feel Severus trembling and ran his hands gently through his hair and made him look at him, then hold him close until the trembling eased.

Once naked, he quickly stripped off his own clothing and lay him back on the bed, looking at his lover by moonlight and candle glow. Those warm eyes were so very expressive and they implored him silently now.

He moved closer, feeling his need climb more quickly than he'd hoped. They had been making love every day now, at least three or four times in deference to Severus's still burgeoning hormones, and he hadn't had an orgasm since last night.

"What's wrong?" Severus's voice was soft and earnest.

"I-I'm close," Neville admitted.

"That's fine. You're always ready again soon. Just let go." Severus shifted closer, and slid down against his body, resting against and between his legs. "Let me."

Before Neville could stop him, Severus licked the tip of his cock a few times, before gently sucking him in and twirling his tongue tip under his foreskin.

"Oh! Severus!"

Snape reached a hand up, intending to stroke Neville's shaft at the same time, but found his mouth filling with semen before he could manage it. He closed his eyes and murmured appreciation, comforted by the remembered scent and taste from the last two weeks.

He finished swallowing and gently licked Neville's cock clean, working out every bit of spunk from beneath his foreskin and under the bell end, before letting him go. He lay beside him and watched as his lover caught his breath.

"Sorry about that."

"No need. I told you -- you'll be ready again soon. I'm in no hurry."

"Well, at least I'll be able to concentrate," he said with a smile. "It's your turn."

Death by sex. Severus had never heard of it, aside from some tall tales involving male giants and humans, but he thought if Neville kept doing what he was doing, he might well experience it.

He lay on his back, legs spread, knees bent, as Neville first fellated him, then licked and sucked each of his bollocks repeatedly and with great care. The sensation was entirely too intense. He wondered if that was because his bollocks were still relatively new, or if they had always been that way. He had no idea since he'd never had that done with his old bollocks.

What a load of bollocks, his mind irreverently supplied as he felt Neville gently lick his scrotal sac and toy with the ridge of flesh that lined them from top to bottom.

When he pressed that active tongue to his perineum, Severus arched and moaned. When he sucked on it, he thought he might well ejaculate right then and there, but Neville stopped and blew over the area, cooling his ardour.

"God, Neville..."

He gasped as Neville suddenly hefted his hips upward a bit more and placed a pillow beneath his lower back.

"W-what are you--"

Severus cried out and writhed. He had no words for the sensations sifting through him now, nothing in his experience had equalled it.

It was impossible, unlikely, unsanitary, but Neville was licking his anus. Moreover, he was doing it as if he was enjoying every minute of it, even humming slightly to himself, the feeling communicating itself along that juicy tongue and making Severus cry out again.

"Good lord..."

It was the last coherent thing Severus said as Neville pointed his tongue tip and began to stab at that sensitive pucker of flesh.

His world revolved around that fleshy point, which wiggled and worked, worming it's way until it just barely breached the tight ring. Severus panted for breath now, fighting to get more of that sensation.

He did not hear Neville Summon the bottle of lubrication, but he saw the vial float by him to the end of the bed.

Soon, he felt a warm, slick finger gently swipe at his opening.

After doing that for a few moments, the finger slowly, ever so excruciatingly slowly, began to penetrate him. Severus closed his eyes and gasped.

He had been afraid that such activity would inevitably remind him of his captivity, of what had been done, but to his immense relief, it did not. This was so far removed from what the others had done as to be an entirely different activity.

None of the Death Eaters had taken any time to prepare him, nor to see to his pleasure. Certainly none had bothered with lubrication besides spit, nor had they taken any time to stretch him the way Neville was carefully attempting.

Having a crack at, his mind irreverently added, making Severus abruptly giggle in mortification and decide that apparently, sex made him lose his mind.

"I love the sounds you're making," Neville said darkly, causing him to refocus just in time to be pole-axed by the sensation of that finger sliding over his prostate.

It slid back out, then slid back again, and soon was joined by another, even as Severus's mind gibbered. They did this for awhile, causing his cock to start leaking a copious amount of fluid.

He jolted as Neville gathered that fluid and stroked his cock with it, even as he knelt up and gently placed the tip of his renewed erection to Severus's puckered opening.

Neville leaned over, piercing him, even as he stroked him, and Severus found himself staring up into those beautiful blue-green eyes helplessly. Everything Neville was feeling was there, easily readable in them.

There was no pity, no disgust, no betrayal, not even a sense of dominance, as Neville began to gently thrust inside him.

The only thing that shone from those eyes was something Severus had only seen directed at him by one person in his life, and this was even different from that.

"Severus."

He nodded, grabbing his knees to bring his lover even closer, and Neville complied, bending low and thrusting shallowly to kiss him.

The unfamiliar tang reminded Snape of what Neville had been doing, but it was not bad, was not even off-putting, merely another thing for his addled mind to try and note as they parted and Neville began to milk his response in time to his own thrusts.

Snape arched, reaching for it, needing to feel it, even as part of him still whimpered in fear.

When Neville's thumb slid under his foreskin and gently swiped the head of his cock, Snape erupted. Neville held on through the spasms, feeling the cock in his hand jerk as several spurts of semen decorated them both, feeling the exquisite sensation surrounding his cock as Snape's passage tightened, released, then quivered.

It was enough. Neville cried out as he also gave himself over to the convulsive pleasure.

"Severus!"

He moaned as the last dregs emptied and he fell against his lover, his beloved. "Oh, Severus... love..."

He fell asleep to the sight of warm hazel eyes watching him with astonishment.

The next morning, the same expression was in them again as Nigel Trent conveyed the momentous news that the Wizengamot had finally decided that, based on the evidence provided, that the case of mitigating circumstances could and would be proved to the gallery, and therefore, it made no sense whatsoever in wasting the money to try one Severus Snape.

The expression grew a bit hazy as a delighted Neville flung himself into his arms and swung him around. This reaction swiftly shifted to a resigned sort of aggravation as he noted the immensely pleased and decidedly far-too-knowing expression on Nigel Trent's face.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Neville watched those hazel eyes grow cold as they studied the man before them.

"So..." Tobias studied Severus with a calculatedly dodgy expression of his own. "Ye've come up a lanky streak of piss, ain't ye? Yer face is longer'n a wet weekend."

Neville bristled, but Severus calmed him with a look.

"Yer eyes got light 'n' all. Ye've got our Reeny's eyes now."

Severus cleared this throat.

"I was rather fond of Aunt Irene."

"Say, 'ow is she?"

"I last saw her at Mum's funeral," Severus said with a fussy sort of precision. "She was fine, if upset, at the time."

"Ye done yer Mum up right, I hope?"

Severus arched a brow.

"Do you really care?"

Tobias's face twitched and he shrugged minutely.

"Well... o' course. She were me wife, weren't she?"

Neville could feel the quiet rage building and could keep silent no longer.

"We've done as you requested. You've seen him," he told Tobias. He turned to Snape then. "We can go now."

Surprisingly, Severus looked at him and his expression softened minutely. He finally nodded and turned to go. Tobias stood.

"Half a tick. Tell us, our Sevvie -- what's this lad here to ye, anyroad?"

Severus turned, nostrils flaring as he looked on this man who had taken the only person who had ever cared for him, unconditionally, away. His rage seethed within, then damped down as he felt a warm hand touch his arm and then pull discreetly away.

No one would ever take Neville away, he thought now fiercely, not unless Neville himself chose to leave.

He fingered the end of his new Rosewood wand, the core of unicorn horn a symbol of not only masculine potency, but purity of spirit, something he had never felt could be said of him. Ollivander insisted, however, that the wand had chosen him. He had to admit the wand was far more responsive than his last one had been.

He stared at his father for many long moments. The sneer came to his lips naturally, as did his acerbic tone as he replied, "Why? Didn't you guess? He's my lover."

Without bothering to call for the guards, who would be extremely puzzled for the rest of the afternoon, he grabbed Neville's ready hand and Apparated, leaving a stunned and somewhat frightened Tobias Snape alone in the Quiet Room.

~O~ * ~O~ * ~O~

Poppy had assured him nothing would be simpler. However, as her hands were not as steady as they had once been, and her highly skilled apprentice needed the practice, she thought Hermione should do it.

So once again, Severus lay naked, although only from the waist down, and flat on his back, this time on a proper examining table, as Hermione bent over and studied his genitals with an assessing eye.

"Well?" He essayed, feeling decidedly uneasy despite knowing this woman had not only seen him naked before, but had even seen the most intimate parts of him spliced open.

"I can do it."

"By all means, Miss Granger."

She nodded then, and smiled at him. "All right then."

She pulled out her distinctively carved wand and intoned, "Auctum Capillatus."

She waited until she saw the golden glow at the tip and then carefully began to trace the area just above his penis where the words TRAITOR stood out in pale scar tissue. As she did, hair began to fill it in. Soon, the word was hidden by new hair growth.

She studied her work with decided pleasure.

"When your hair starts to silver, you can have the area bleached so it all matches."

He nodded, and then looked at her handiwork in the mirror she gave him. He betrayed not an iota of expression on his face, but his eyes spoke satisfaction as he noted the unscarred look of his groin. He nodded.

"That's very good, Miss Granger. I appreciate the handiwork."

He was about to get up when Hermione stopped him. "I, um... have an idea, Severus. I'm not sure you'll either appreciate it or find it appropriate, but..."

"Pray continue, Miss Granger, you intrigue me," he admitted.

She drew in a breath, and then began to outline her idea.

Severus frowned at first, and then considered her opinion judiciously. To his surprise, he found himself nodding in agreement.

Soon, he was prone on the table and trembling slightly. Hermione gave him a sip of Calming Potion.

"It wouldn't do to have it look blurry."

He nodded, feeling the potion take effect, and then sighed.

"I'm ready."

"But are you absolutely sure? It is permanent, you know. The Muggle method is, at least, reversible."

"I'm positive, Miss Granger."

She nodded then, pursing her lips, before intoning, "Subnoto Cuticula!"

The only people who ever knew Severus Snape had the words Half-Blood Satyr, with the S in a highly stylized and overly ornate form of lettering, tattooed above his arse, were Severus, Hermione and Neville, who teased him about the truth of it from time to time for the rest of their lives.

~ FIN ~

Posted: 13 July 2007

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