Unwell

by Skye

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry/Snape.

Warnings: Non Graphic rape.

Summary: A plan to defeat Voldemort has unforeseen and far reaching consequences. Angst with a wonderfully fluffy ending. While the song inspired the piece this is NOT, I repeat NOT, a song-fic.

A/N: I’ve elaborated in bits and pieces. Paragraphs here and there, much longer interactions with various people. I hope you find it an improvement. If not..*shrugs* I like it better anyway.

Unwell

by Skye

I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
but stay a while and you’ll see
A different side of me.

Harry was terrified.

Snape could see it, feel it, smell it. It was natural. It was expected. It would add credibility to this charade. It still bothered him, nearly as much as he’d been surprised Harry had agreed to this. So much could go wrong, so easily. This was an act of desperation which was troubling enough, but the possibility that it could end in disaster was real. So very, very, real.

Grabbing Harry firmly by the upper arms he apparated to the clearing and to the death eaters. It was time to take Voldemort his white whale.

_________________________________________

Snape was holding a large single tail whip, Harry manacled between two posts and kneeling while the circle cheered as he laid one deep cut after another along the boy’s back. It was a bloody mess already, but he didn’t dare stop until Voldemort halted the proceedings.

It seemed like forever before Voldemort was tired of watching. Apparently Harry had stopped being sufficiently entertaining. Thank God. Lowering his aching arm he waited. Finally with a negligent wave he dismissed the death eaters... "Stay Severus, you have done well. You may watch, and after I am done with him I will allow you to take him."

Oh no. That was not part of the plan. Rape was not part of the death-eater modius operandi. Albus would never, he would never, have allowed this had it been. He wasn’t even sure the ... thing... was sexually functional. There was nothing he could do now except...

"My lord. May I watch his face?"

Voldemort nodded his approval with a smirk. Snape moved quickly around the boy while Voldemort approached. Harry’s head was hanging down, eyes closed... Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be allowed that reprieve for long. Indeed, when Voldemort yanked his pants roughly down, Harry’s eyes snapped open and his head shot up. Snape immediately ripped off his mask and tossed it aside.

"Good... let him see that you have betrayed him." Voldemort commended him and Snape wanted to vomit.

Harry’s eyes locked on his. Terror, confusion, and pain all reflected there. Snape knelt in front of Harry with a small helpless gesture and shook his head. Snape didn’t look away, he paid no attention to anything beyond Harry’s face, desperately trying to block out what was happening in front of him. It didn’t work. Voldemort yanked Harry’s legs back and apart and then entered him with one brutal thrust.

Harry arched silently, eyes filling with tears and he bit into his lip, blood running down his chin. The only sound he made was a nearly inaudible, soft, whimper. After that he was silent, except the occasional low grunt as Voldemort forced himself into his body over and over. He never looked away, though the tears did eventually escape their prison of dark lashes.

Voldemort had his head thrown back, eyes slitted shut as he slammed harder and faster into Harry. As the pain increased, so did the blood flowing from Harry’s mouth. When Voldemort shuddered and held still Harry yelped sharply. Voldemort pulled out and released him abruptly and even in the dark Snape could smell blood drowning out the smell of sex.

Fastening his pants Voldemort looked up, eyes glowing brightly. Harry fell forward limply, not bothering or capable of getting back onto his knees to take the pressure off his shoulders. Snape quickly schooled his features into a mask of indifference and stood as well. He forced himself to smirk.

"You have done well Severus. You may take him, but I warn you... keep him at your Manor. I may wish to visit and I would be sorely disappointed to find him back at Hogwarts."

"As would I," Snape said honestly. After all this they could not rouse Voldemort's suscpions, "Dumbledore would be... enraged," Also true, "and I have no wish to feel his wrath-- or yours, of course."

Voldemort smiled nastily, appeased and seemingly convinced by his vehemence. "Take him."

Snape released the manacles and noticed Harry was in shock. His pulse was fast and weak, his skin colder than the warm air around them. Sensing Voldemort’s eyes upon them he pulled Harry roughly upward, ignoring the soft gasp of pain and turned to nod at Voldemort, "My thanks. I am sure I shall enjoy him."

Then dragging Harry roughly away he apparated to the front lawn of the sprawling old French Manor. Once there Harry immediately sank to his knees throwing up violently and shaking. Snape knelt behind him, held his head and carefully avoided touching the raw mass of flesh that had once been his back.

Still shivering weakly he climbed to his feet, arms wrapped around his stomach and staggered toward the house. Snape held his arm lightly, more to steady him than anything else. Once past the wards and inside Harry passed out cold. It was probably for the best, Snape reflected as he scooped Harry into his arms, feeling blood seeping sluggishly through the sleeve of his shirt.

He had Sparky draw a hot bath and lowered Harry into the tub, keeping one hand behind his head. The contact of steaming water against all those open wounds caused Harry to come around violently nearly leaping from the tub. Snape gabbed his forearms quickly and looked at Harry steadily. In response Harry gritted his teeth and sank back into the water with a hiss.

He reached for soap with shaky hands and Snape intercepted the motion, lathering a cloth himself and washing Harry’s front first, and then braced one arm across the tub and Harry leaned forward, gripping it while Snape gently washed the wounds on his back and rinsed them. Pulling Harry from the tub he wrapped Harry in a large bath sheet, and carried him to one of the bedrooms. He put Harry on the bed, face down and left him briefly.

When he found what he was looking for he returned. Harry hadn’t moved except to push his face into the down pillow and cross his arms over his head. Snape carefully worked the thick salve into the lacerated flesh, knowing it would help with pain as well as healing. Finally coating his fingers in the stuff he placed one hand in the small of Harry’s back and pushed down. "Harry, I’m going to put this inside you. It will help. Try to relax."

He didn’t get a response, but he didn’t expect one. He had however wanted to warn the boy. He slid his fingers carefully inside and groaned and the extend of ripping and tearing he found. He wasn’t surprised, but he wasn’t pleased either. Ideally Harry should have had a doctor. As it was this was going to be hellaciously painful, and dangerous, for sometime. Harry y remained eerily silent though ever line in his body was tense with pain and unease.

Finally, having done what he could, he pulled his fingers out and found them streaked with blood. He wiped his hands on a convent towel and pulled several warm woolen blankets up. When he stood to turn off the light he was surprised when a small hand circled his wrist and stopped him. Harry didn’t open his eyes but he tugged slightly and whispered roughly, "please don’t go."

"I’m not going anywhere," Snape assured him. Harry released his arm and Snape pulled open the night stand drawer and pulled out a crystal vial and broke the wax seal and unstopped it. Harry pushed up on an elbow when he felt the glass against his lips, eyes opening briefly in a dazzling display of pain, and drank the bitter concoction without protest.

It didn’t take long to work, and for Harry to slip into drugged, dreamless, sleep.

_________________________________________________________________

Unbeknownst to Harry, both Voldemort and Lucius arrived in the next week to make use of Harry’s services. Snape put them off, saying that he would like his pet alive and further activity of that nature would certainly cause him to hemorrhage and die. He wasn’t lying.

Finally he could put them off no longer. He didn’t know how to broach the subject with Harry. He had been quiet and withdrawn since he’d arrived. Finally he just told him, with brutal honesty. Harry closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again, "Well, they will either kill me, or they won’t. We did this to get you back in Voldemort’s good graces and confidence. It’s working. We can’t throw that away now."

Snape was astounded by Harry’s courage. When Voldemort and Lucius walked in together Harry didn’t so much as flinch. He simply waited. Snape was dismissed rather abruptly and went to the formal living room where he paced restlessly. Though it felt like eternity it wasn’t long before Lucius reappeared, looking smug.

"Severus my friend I never would have believed it possible, but you’ve broken him quite effectively. I didn’t think you had it in you."

"Lucius I am not now and will never be your friend," Snape spat, "Just because my methods differ from yours do not make them ineffective. In fact I would think that the evidence points to the opposite. Mayhap you would like advice."

Lucius snarled and stepped forward menacingly.

"He’s right Malfoy." A cold sibilant voice interrupted, "he has proven himself both effective and loyal. You have not. I think a promotion may be in order, don’t you? After all he is responsible for providing the entertainment you just partook of."

"Yes, milord."

"I thought you’d see things my way. Come. Severus, we will talk later."

"Yes milord," Snape echoed Malfoy.

Finally, they were gone and Snape was free to check on Harry. He found him in his bed, face down and naked, but unbloodied. It seemed that Voldemort had taken his wish to keep him alive to heart. Any damage was minimal, he thought with relief. Then Harry’s eyes opened and he was met with utter desolation and despair. The once crystalline emerald eyes were hazy and dull, the color of scummy pond water.

"Hey," Harry said softly rolling stiffly onto his side and pulling his knees up to his chest.

Snape pulled the comforter up and Harry snuggled into it like a young child.

"Hello...," Snape said with a frown.

"Did he say anything?" Harry asked hoarsely and coughed roughly. His throat was irritated... Understanding dawned a moment later and Snape summoned Sparky who reappeared immediately with a nearly freezing glass of apple juice. Harry sat up with a wince and took it gratefully and drank it slowly before sinking back into the pillows and blankets

"I’ve been promoted, much to Malfoy’s chagrin."

"Good... I am glad."

"I know you are," Snape said thickly, pushing unruly hair away from his forehead gently, "I know you are."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Is there anything you need?" Snape asked quietly after a particularly gruesome day. Harry was past physical injury at this point. He’d learned to stay utterly pliant, but he was always sore and hoarse following these... gatherings where he was a ‘party favor’ or ‘amenity’ to be made use of.

Snape always did what he could for him, often staying the night and waking him before nightmares could truly take hold. It had started from duty. He had delivered Harry into this hellish situation, and more amazingly Harry had stayed. He played the part of his captive, not willing to give up the advantage Snape gave the Order and risk innocent lives. More amazingly he wasn’t willing to risk Severus’s life by making it known that he had betrayed, and was still betraying, Voldemort. The least he could do was sit with the boy and guard his sleep. At some point over the previous weeks a respect and affection had joined the guilt and sense of duty.

"Make love to me?" Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed looking utterly wrung out.

Well. That was unexpected. "I was thinking more a cup of tea and a bath," Snape choked out.

Harry closed his eyes to say, "Please.... I need to remember sex isn’t always pain and humiliation. I know you can’t stand me, and I’m sorry I’m asking you this but.. Please. I need to remember there’s more. I need--" he couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead he opened his eyes, looking lost and needy, with some indefinable emotion playing across his face.

"I don’t hate you, Harry." Snape reassured him, "but I don’t want to take advantage of you."

"You’re not."


God help him. He couldn’t deny Harry-- He couldn’t even deny himself. Lust or something deeper, he didn’t know and it didn’t matter. He knew he grown fond of Harry, and he knew he admired his courage and determination. It was, for the moment, enough.

Harry seemed to sense his wavering resolve and kissed him softly, tentative and uncertain. Lips barely meeting in a questioning, not quiet chaste kiss. Snape brought one hand to lightly hold his shoulder, the other cupped behind Harry’s neck, stroking his thumb along Harry’s jaw.

It was all the encouragement Harry needed. He moaned softly and parted inviting Snape’s tongue to explore the recesses of his mouth. Snape obliged him, stroking over his palate his teeth and sucking and lightly biting a full lower lip.

Then he retreated, slowly. Harry’s tongue emerged tentatively, like a small animal-- ready to retreat if startled. Hands rose to his chest, shaking as he tried to deal with the buttons. Snape spared a moment to be grateful he was wearing simple muggle clothes and not his typical high collared attire. Snape pulled back, breaking the kiss and asked cautiously, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Harry nodded slowly and Snape simply shrugged deliberately out of the shirt and then deliberately undressed, not taking his eyes off the undoubtedly nervous young man. He was equally indubitably determined... and aroused. Snape left the lights on, but lowered them and crawled into the bed and under the covers where Harry joined him. For a long time, Snape just held him.

After a bit Harry’s hands began to trace light aimless patterns on his chest and Snape rolled onto his back, giving Harry the access and freedom to do as he wished. Giving Harry the power, the control that had been denied him so totally these last weeks.

Harry’s face showed his surprise at Snape’s submission, and his relief. His hands grew slowly bolder, trailing down a lightly furred, well muscled thigh and back up the buttery soft inside. Snape let his legs fall open under the questioning touch.

This was so... hard for him, truth be told. Hard to turn himself over to someone else, to be so vulnerable, but its what Harry needed and damn if he wasn’t going to give it to him. Apparently he didn’t entirely succeed in masking his own unease because Harry froze, hand on his thigh and propped on an elbow above him.

Snape looked up into wounded eyes and simply pulled Harry down to him and kissed him firmly. A hand tangled in his hair, reveling in the texture and feel of it sliding through fingers, and the other trailed lightly over his erection. Snape fisted his hands in the sheets beneath him. Harry pulled back and said with a shaky smile, "This might be more interesting if you touched me," as he pulled Snape’s hand up and put it on the side of his hip, "You can even pretend I’m someone else." Harry frowned and looked away, "but if you don’t want to... after they’ve all.."

"No!" Snape said, startled by his own vehemence, "No," he repeated more softly, "I just don’t want to hurt you."

"You can’t."

CHAPTER 2

It was working...and working well. Snape had moved rapidly through the ranks and was able to report to Dumbledore and seriously undermine Voldemort’s plans. They had saved hundreds over the past months. Suscpion never fell on him, in fact to his glee most of Voldemort’s suscpion and rage fell on Lucius.

Still for all that the tide had turned in their favor, he wondered if the price was too high. Harry was simply sliding away. Dumbledore knew of course but didn’t seem to grasp how serious this was becoming. He seemed to think Harry would shake this off as he had everything else that had happened to him. Snape knew better. Harry was raped violently and repeatedly. Once the novelty had worn off, and with it Voldemort’s possessiveness, there wasn’t a death-eater who hadn’t been allowed to have him. Harry just submitted saying that it didn’t matter.

It mattered. IT mattered a great deal. Physically he could heal the boy, but the spiritual and emotional degradation was something he couldn’t touch, no matter how hard he tried. Harry was trying, and trying hard, but he was slipping into another world, a safe place where what was happening to him couldn’t hurt him. Unfortunately he was also slipping away from sanity and life.

Snape was growing really and truly desperate. Even Voldemort noticed what was happening and was not quite as sadistically thrilled as Snape would have expected. Of course, Voldemort derived a great deal of pleasure from the continued abuse of the nineteen year old. In hopes of returning the boy to the land of the living, and gaining some responsiveness Voldemort had called a temporary halt.

In the two days since Voldemort had ordered him off limits, Harry hadn’t moved except to go to the restroom or spoken. It was highly unusual. Since the night he’d shared with Harry, the boy always managed to at least acknowledge his presence with a weak smile. He wasn’t actively trying to kill himself, Snape knew that as surely as he knew Harrys’ eyes were green. He just didn’t want to emerge from he safe cocoon he’d built around himself, and every day he grew a little paler, a little quieter, and every day he withdrew further.

Snape walked up the stairs and paused outside the boy ‘s room and paused before pushing the door open. He was surprised to find Harry sitting upright, in the window, looking out. Harry turned to him slowly and said softly, "Is he ever going to kill me?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Dammit," Harry said thickly, "God dammit! I was prepared to die you know," Harry said without turning and without any real... fire. "but I never dreamt this is what he’d want from me."

"No one did. If we had we never would have allowed it."

"If I tried to escape do you think he’d kill me?" Harry had forgotten he was present, just mumbling to himself, "Probably not. Damn the bastard and his honor to hell

Snape was sure he was already there, Thank you very much. Snape gripped Harry’s shoulder strongly, pulling his attention back.

"I can’t go back...," Harry whimpered and began to rock, "I can’t ever go back..." He looked up at Snape wearily. "I’m crazy I really am. I--"

"Shhhh," Snape said softly and knelt in front of the young man and pulled him into his arms. Harry shuddered hard against him.

"I don't’ want to wind up in St. Mungo’s. I don’t, I really really don’t. I’ll be with Neville’s parents and I’ll be in one of those blue padded rooms and they’ll do things to me there and I won’t like it and I really don’t want to be insane," Harry babbled inarticulately.

"Shhhh," Snape repeated softly, "No one’s taking you to Mungo’s."

"Promise?" Harry asked in a broken, child like voice.

"I promise...," Snape said softly and kissed the top of his head. "You aren’t crazy, you’re just not well right now. It’ll all be over soon (he hoped) and you’ll get better."


___________________________________________

It was over, but not quickly enough for his taste. Harry was physically better, but by the time Voldemort was defeated, Harry had utterly retreated from reality, in spite of his best efforts. He was returned to Hogwarts where he would talk to no one, and only with Snape physically holding him was Poppy able to check him for injuries and clean up the work Snape himself had done. He responded only to Snape, and then it was to cling to him with heartbreaking desperation. No matter how they reassured him that it was over, he was safe, Voldemort was dead, Harry remained withdrawn and afraid.

After a week at Hogwarts, talking to himself and staring at his ceiling Dumbledore had given Snape a leave of absence and permission to take him home, hoping that peace and quiet would help. Voldemort was dead, but Harry wasn’t even aware of it. He was lost in his mind, in the months of hell he’d endured. The visits from Weasley and Granger had terrified Harry and broken their hearts.

Back at the manor he gave Harry a new room, in a different wing, afraid that if he was in the same room he’d been used and abused in before he would be reminded of things Snape himself would rather forget. It didn’t last long. The first night back Harry disappeared and after a frantic search Snape found him in the old room, huddled in the floor near the window.

Moonlight was streaming in, and Harry looked almost like himself. It would be so easy to forget he was so broken. Harry turned to look at him and smiled, just slightly. That lop sided smile tugged at Snape’s heart in a way he’d rarely been touched. Snape seated himself cross legged on the floor with the boy and smiled in return. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hey," Harry returned and then looked at his lap where his hands were folded. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

He sounded about six, Snape thought sadly. "You’re welcome. Do you like it here?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I remember bad things but I like you so it’s ok. IT’s better than the castle. All those people talking at me. I didn’t know what they wanted me to say and they just kept asking questions and I didn’t know how to answer them."

" I know. That must have been scary." Snape said simply. At least Harry was talking and coherent... for him. He was also calmer than he had been.

"It was! They just kept talking and talking and I wanted them to go away but they wouldn’t."

"They were worried about you, but I know it was overwhelming."

"I don’t know why they were so worried. I’m fine, I don’t even hurt anywhere anymore!"

"That’s good!" Snape said, his heart breaking, "but they were worried because they knew you hurt before."

"I didn’t like what all those bad people did to me," Harry said gravely, "but you always made me feel better and you never talk too much." Harry smiled shyly.

Snape chuckled softly, "I can honestly say no one has ever accused me of being loquacious"

Harry frowned, "What’s lo, lo--" he stumbled.

"It means someone who talks all the time."

"Oh! No, you never talk if I don't’ want to. I like that."

They were quiet for a few minutes and Snape stood. "Do you want to come have something to eat and drink?"

Harry’s eyes went wide, "At night? Really? Wow! Can I have cookies?"

Snape shut his eyes briefly, "if that’s what you want, you certainly can. What kind of cookies do you like?"

Harry bounced up eagerly, "Chocolate!"

"Let’s go tell Sparky then," Snape said extending his hand. Harry took it and padded after him, holding his hand tightly.

It was the first night in a long string of nights. Snape would always find Harry up in the middle of the night, sitting in his floor. Sometimes he would be looking at the picture books Snape had brought in, or playing with a truck, but for the most part he was sitting. It was the only time Harry really talked. During the day he was virtually silent, and Snape didn’t press.

After a couple of weeks, Dumbledore came to visit. Harry smiled shyly and took the proffered chocolate frog, giggling when it jumped and chasing it around the floor before he returned to his puzzle.

"Severus," dumbledore said after they’d retired to a study, "perhaps it would be better for Harry to go to St. Mungo’s... They are certainly better equipped to handle him, and they are professionals. Maybe they’ll be able to reach him..."

"Absolutely not!" Snape said vehemently, "I promised Harry I would not send him there and I will not hear of it! It is out of the question."

"Severus," Dumbledore pointed out reasonably, "Harry can’t remember what you promised him. Surely you do not want to take care of him for the next century."

"No. I’d much rather him take care of himself, but baring that I have taken responsibility for him. He saved the whole damn community, Albus, and I will not allow him to be locked away and forgotten. You can see that he is content here, and as long as he is at peace, then I have no reason to seek outside ‘help’."

Dumbledore sighed, "It is your decision of course. I am actually rather relieved that there is someone who cares enough and has the resources to look after him, but I must confess I am surprised to see you willing to take on the role. Black was willing of course but..."

"Black is a flighty fool. He has neither a steady income, or the patience to deal with Harry now."

"I know, and I told him that. However, you should be prepared for his visit..."

"When," Snape asked with resignation. Maybe seeing the mutt would do Harry good.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Great." He said without enthusiasm.

_______________________________

Black arrived and after grumbling and throwing insults in Snape’s direction stalked off to find Harry, Snape one step behind him. When Black stormed into the room, he pounced immediately, hugging Harry. "Harry! I’ve been so worried about you, how are you doing?"

Harry whimpered and tried unsuccessfully to push Sirius off. "Black," Snape growled in warning, "let him go."

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed as he released his godson, "What’s Snape done to you?"

Harry looked at the floor and said meekly, "I like Severus. He’s nice."

Sirius blinked in shock. Hadn’t Dumbledore explained Harry’s situation to him, or did he simply think it didn’t apply to him? "Harry, this is Sirius. I bet he’d help you put together that new airplane."

Harry looked at Sirius eagerly and Black nodded with a dazed air. Harry scampered off to get the toy that had arrived the evening before and Snape had purposely refused to help assemble.

"Dear God," Sirius murmured, sliding down the wall to the floor.

"Problem Black?" Snape asked as he leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

"Are you joking? Of course there’s a problem, my godson has gone crazy."

A loud clatter announced Harry’s presence. The box was on the floor and after staring at the men for a split second he turned and ran.

"Harry! I’m sorry," Sirius said plaintively, "I just don’t know how to handle this. Gods, Snape, I can’t even handle myself most of the time, what the hell am I going to do? I can’t stand seeing him like that! What am I going to do?"

Snape thought Sirius sounded less sane and mature than his godson at the moment. "Grow the hell up for starters. You’re not fit to take care of Harry in this condition, Black," Snape fairly spat, "You don’t have the resources financially or mentally. You’ll destroy him and yourself to boot. While I don’t particularly give a damn what happens to you, I don’t need you dragging Harry under with you."

Black’s eyes narrowed suscpiously, "You better not be taking advantage of him Snape or I swear, I’ll..."

Snape felt overcome with rage momentarily, " I would never," he ground out, "And you know it. I have spent a decade risking my life doing my best to protect him while you sought your revenge and lived your life on the run. Don’t you dare insinuate that I would every so much as think of taking advantage of his current condition."

Fortunately Black missed the qualifier ‘in his current condition’ and nodded slowly. Like it or not the greasy git was right. He couldn’t even see Harry at this point. It was too close. Too close to what he had feared his fate would be in Azkaban. Truthfully it still worried him at times, and he knew he couldn’t be responsible for Harry. Not now, and if he was to be candid about it, he never had been.

It was perhaps the most mature decision of his life, to date, when he nodded slowly and agreed to leave Harry in Snape’s care.


Snape found Harry huddled in the attic after an hour of searching. Sparky had actually found him and Snape crawled up and into the dusty space on his hands and knees. Harry was sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth, clutching a ratty bear he must have unearthed in one of the boxes scattered about the massive room that stretched the length and width of the house.

"Hey," Snape said softly in greeting as he moved to sit beside him under the sloping ceiling.

"I’m sorry." Harry said softly, "I don’t mean to be crazy. Are you going to send me away?"

"No." Snape said firmly, "never. You’re not really crazy you know... you just had some bad things happen that made you sick."

"Am I ever going to get better?" Harry sniffled, eyes wide.

"I don’t know, but it doesn’t really matter," Snape assured him, "as long as you’re happy."

"I am."

"Good. Now how about that plane?"

________________________________________________

It was nearly a month later when Harry appeared at his bed, clutching the tattered bear he’d found by the ear.

"Something wrong Harry?" He asked, sitting up.

Harry stared at him for a moment and then burst into tears. Snape blinked and hugged the boy without question, deciding it really didn’t matter what set him off. There were so many possibilities, and he had ample reason to cry. "It’s ok. You’re safe now."

Harry held onto him, one hand fisted in the shirt, the other clutching the bear

Harry fell asleep in his arms that night, still holding him.

The next morning he went to his office, closed the door softly, folded his arms on his desk, put his head down. He cried then, quietly and ungrammatically. Cried for the boy had been, the man he had been becoming. Cried for the selfless, courageous young man they’d destroyed so utterly. And he cried for himself and the chance he was sure he’d lost. The chance to have something... more with Harry. The chance to have someone who understood scars and demons and masks. Who understood him, who knew him, and didn’t recoil.

Would it have been better if Voldemort had killed him? Probably, but it was too late now. The boy trusted him so completely, to take care of him and make it all better, but he couldn’t fix this. Harry didn’t even seem to know he was broken... one small blessing in this nightmare.

Harry opened the door sometime later and Snape looked up and hastily wiped his eyes with one hand, pushing the hair out of his face with the other. Snape couldn’t believe he’d bawled like a baby. He didn't’ cry. IT was humiliating.

"Were you crying?" Harry asked innocently.

Snape thought about lying but decided it would be insulting and foolish to deny what was so obvious, "Yes."

"How come?"

Snape arched an eyebrow, "I was sad."

"Oh. Was it cause I’m sick?"

"A little bit. I miss you."

Harry’s eyebrows drew down in confusion, clearly trying to work out how Snape could miss him when he was right there. Finally he just said, "You can have my bear. He makes me feel better."

It was the bear he’d found in the attic. When Harry extended it to him, Snape took the ancient plush toy and smiled wanly, "thank you. I feel better already."

Harry smiled brightly, his whole face lighting up, "I don’t want you to be sad."

"Thank you," Snape said again and looked at the bear. It was missing it’s nose. "Why don’t you go find a button and Sparky can give him a new nose..."

Harry nodded and ran off, leaving Snape holding the battered toy in one hand, forehead resting in the other.

CHAPTER 3

Granger and Weasley appeared at his door, Granger with a large shopping bag full of... toys. Snape eyed them warily and then let them in.

"Hi, Professor Snape, I thought we’d come by and see Harry," Ron announced uneasily.

"I am sure you are aware Harry--"

Granger cut in quietly, but firmly, "You have to get out, Professor. You look done in. Go see a movie or something. We’ll keep him amused and safe. I even brought bribes."

Snape shook his head. He wasn’t sure he was leaving yet, at all. Harry would probably have a strongly negative reaction, and as good as their intentions were he doubted these children were prepared to handle what Black had essentially run from.

They found Harry in his room reading a book...or looking at the moving pictures on the pages. "Hi!" Hermione said brightly plopping down on the bed.

"Hello..." Harry said sucspiously.

"I’ve got some new puzzles and Severus told us you were really good at them. Do you think you could help me?"

Harry glanced at Ron who smiled and said, "Don’t look at me, mate. They’re beyond me."

In that brief exchange Harry was won over, and in minutes was wrangling with one of the wooden puzzles. Hermione looked up and shooed Snape away. After a moment he left. The brat was right. He was at the end of his rope. His head hurt, his heart hurt, and he needed to get away from the grounds.

He went to London. He ate at a nice restaurant and had a glass of wine. Then he went back to Hogwarts where he chatted about nothing with Albus. He could see that the Headmaster wanted to ask, but also knew Dumbledore could read him well enough to know that he wasn’t willing or able to discuss this just now. By the time he got back to the Manor Hermione and Ron were sitting in the living room playing exploding snap.

"Harry’s asleep," Hermione announced, then wrinkled her nose, "Where did he get that bear?"

"The attic I believe."

"Ah well that explains it. That thing must be two hundred years old."

Snape snorted and they were packing up their things. "Thank you." He said quietly as he escorted them to the door.

"Not a problem," Ron said, "He does still have friends you know."

"It’s the least we could do, Professor," Hermione said as they walked to the door, "if you ever need help, don’t hesitate to call." She paused looking thoughtful, "Come to think of it, we’ll be back anyway. We all had a good time."

That night it was Harry who found him sitting in the floor by the window. It was the first time he’d arrived first. A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up into Harry’s face as Harry sat beside him. "I can almost think down here sometimes, at night." he said softly, and the tone... this was no six year old child in a man’s body, "I just can’t hold onto it ... but I’m trying."

"I know." Snape said leaning his head against the wall, and closing his eyes. He wasn’t aware that tears were sliding down his temples and disappearing into his hair until a feather light touch brushed one away.

"Dear God," Harry said looking with awe at the moisture glistening on his fingers, "I’m sorry," he was still speaking very softly, "I had no idea how badly this was hurting you. It’s the last thing I wanted."

Snape was silent for a moment, " It isn’t your fault," he finally said.

They sat in silence for the rest of the night, but Snape felt the moment Harry lost his tenuous grip on coherency. He began to fidget, picked up the bear and curled up beside him. Snape just closed his eyes again and told himself that at least Harry was still in there and wanted out. There was hope still.


Eventually Snape decided to return to teaching. He needed to get out, he had to use his mind for something more complex than twelve piece jigsaw puzzles. He felt cut off and alone, and he was sure his brain had turned into oatmeal. Harry was becoming more coherent for longer periods of time, but the vast majority he was still extremely childlike, incapable of completing more than the simplest tasks without help. It was a great pride to Harry when he learned to make a peanut butter sandwich and pour milk without spilling.

When he returned to the old castle he hired Hermione and Ron. They helped keep Harry amused and made sure he was safe and fed while he taught his classes or supervised detention. They disappeared in the afternoons and he and Harry would spend a couple of hours together. In the evenings they would return and Ron would play with Harry and Hermione would help him with marking.

It was exhausting and complicated but he felt better for it. Snape honestly wasn’t sure he would have spent much longer locked into the big old house alone with Harry and emerged with his sanity in tact. There were times when he wanted to shake Harry, scream at him, or yell. There were times, even here, when he just didn’t know how much more he could handle. In those moments someone always arrived and he left Harry in their hands, gratefully. Glad that he had managed, again, to escape ripping into Harry and destroying the trust he had in the man he obviously adored.

More than the help and stimulation it was the occasional glimpse of the REAL Harry that kept him going. Late night snippets of conversation. The glimmer of hope that Harry was fighting it and still there. Yet as glad as he was for them they were painful. He learned more about Harry in those brief moments than he had in the years Potter had been his student. What he learned was a revelation. He didn’t simply admire or respect him, he really liked Harry. He was smart and funny and sensitive. Then, of course, the man would slip away from him and the man would be replaced with a child, leaving Snape grasping at nothing, trying to hold on to those too brief moments of mutual understanding.


Minerva proved a surprisingly difficult person to deal with. She insisted, loudly, that all Harry needed was a little push. That Snape was coddling him and enabling him. Minivera wasn’t a vicious woman, by any means. She was however strict and uncompromising. She was strong and demanded others be just as strong as she was. She was, also, ignorant. She had less knowledge than your average first year of psychiatry and mental illness. In her sadly narrow view mental illness was a sign of weakness, something that could be thrown off with determination.
If they were strong enough. Of course the strong never became mentally ill... Knowing all this he dismissed the comment. He had neither the time or energy to attempt to educate an ignorant woman who did not want to learn.

He should have taken her more seriously. His third year potions class was interrupted when Granger tentatively knocked and then entered when he motioned her in.

Speaking so quietly the class couldn’t over hear, "McGonnogal came and wanted to ‘talk’ to Harry. Honestly we didn’t think anything of it. Everyone’s been so nice, but she’s still there and Harry’s--"

"Finish my class," he said thrusting his notes at Hermione and storming out of the room.

He found McGonnogal still there, badgering Harry, ignoring Ron’s protests " Silence Weasley, Come now, Potter, I know you remember these things. You’re too strong to have become so completely infantile." Harry was red faced, his cheeks covered in tears and his nose was running.

"What," Snape ground out, "do you think you are doing?"

"Helping," She spat, "I am sick of this. The boy is fine. He just needs to get over it and move on."

"Helping?" Snape repeated incredulously while Ron pulled Harry away. Harry hid his face in the redhead’s shirt, smearing mucous all over the plaid flannel in the process, "Helping?" His voice rose as he spoke until he was shouting, "You meddlesome, incompetent, bitch. Get out and so help me if you get near him again I’ll break your scrawny neck!"

Unwisely, she didn’t leave. Instead she continued, "yes helping. I can’t believe you of all people are tolerating this. All he needs is a little push. Potters’ been through much worse in his time without retreating into infancy. There’s no reason to believe he should now."

"You are clearly as utterly stupid as the students. Where do you get your information? Divination?" Snape sneered, "Get out of my quarters. Now."

When she ignored him, making no move to exit, Snape picked her up by her biceps, sat her down outside his door, and then slammed it as she was saying, "The headmaster will hear of this..."

Snape didn’t care. Let them fire him. He’d like to see the catty old wench survive being raped by every death-eater in the country without mental problems. God damn, santamonious,

"Bitch."

Snape startled, thinking for a moment that he’d spoken. He only realized it was Ron when he looked up to find the young man’s face as red as his hair, eyes blazing.

"Quite." Snape agreed and reached for Harry. Harry nuzzled into him sniffling and whimpering. Snape sat on the ground and Ron followed them. "It’s ok, Harry," Ron said softly, "she’s just not a very nice lady sometimes. She doesn’t mean to be nasty, but she’s very..."

"Full of herself," Snape supplied.

"That’s one way of putting it," Ron said with a frown, trying to get his temper under control, "she just always thinks she knows what’s best."

"I really didn’t know what she was talking about and she just kept getting louder

"I know," Snape said stroking unruly hair, "but it really doesn’t matter. She didn’t know what she was talking about either."

Snape was gratified to find Albus had in fact been told of the incident, with results Minerva had not expected. She was formally reprimanded, and forced to take two weeks unpaid vacation.

That night Harry laughed uneasily about the scene, and said only that McGonnogal had never been particularly forgiving of his weaknesses, and said very little else simply allowing himself to be held. It was clear that returning mental coherence hadn’t taken away the sting of her remarks. Just before he drifted off into the fog again, Harry murmured, "I’m really not pretending..."

"I didn’t think you were," Snape said firmly, but Harry was already gone.


It was during McGonnogal’s ‘vacation’ that Snape’s mother died. The owl arrived, he read the letter and contacted Granger and Weasley. They came over at once, much to Harry’s delight. Snape explained as briefly as possible what had happened and that he had to go away for a couple of days to take care of things. He remained as impassive as possible. They took Harry to the Manor, he went to Scotland.

He closed her house. He arranged for her ancestral home to be taken possession of by a distant relative who bore her maiden name. He arranged and then attended the funeral. He dealt with his relatives and returned to France and Snape Manor absolutely exhausted, physically and emotionally. Harry was awake and playing innocently on the rug by the fire. Snape asked Ron and Hermione to stay until Harry slept, feeling incapable of dealing with Harry at the moment.

He locked himself in his study and sat. He tried to think, tried to work and failed both miserably. Finally he just started drinking. He felt like one raw nerve. He was jumpy and agitated. He hadn’t slept since he left, and with luck he’d be drunk enough to pass out tonight. Sparky could keep an eye on Harry when he woke tonight, and would probably even feed him cookies. Quite against his will he found himself remembering that one night they had spent together. Harry clinging to him like an anchor. He surely felt as though he could use an anchor himself tonight.

Ron and Hermione came in to announce that Harry was asleep. One look at his red eyes, shaking hands and pale face and they announced unanimously that they were staying. Snape vetoed the idea rather harshly, but they weren’t offended. They left saying they would check back in a day or two and to call if he needed anything. Snape snorted and slammed the door behind them.

That night Harry found him when he didn’t show up. It seemed Harry was having one of those rare, too brief moments of clarity. When he didn’t answer the knock he just walked in and found Snape sitting in a chair, staring into the fire. Harry knelt beside him and took his hand. "I’m sorry."

Snape opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t quite manage. Instead he just squeezed the hand in his gently and sat silently. He hurt. That was the long and short of it. He hurt and he was so damn tired. Harry tugged him down to the floor and he went a bit bemused. Harry was always on the floor...

Arms went around him, a hand found it’s way to his hair and pushed a thick lock behind his ear. Snape shuddered but stayed silent. He knew he was wasting what little time Harry had, and that he would regret it later, but he just couldn’t bring himself to speak. He was sure if he opened his mouth he would make a fool of himself. Harry had already seen more of his tears and pain than anyone in the past forty years.

Finally he managed a gruff, "It doesn’t really matter. We’d been estranged for years." Since Voldemort. She’d been a decent woman who could not comprehend his decisions. She’d never learned that he was spying, and he’d never been able to tell her. It would have compromised her safety and his cover. She had died thinking her son was a Death-Eater.

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked

Snape snorted at the incongruous question. Harry spent his days and most of his nights coloring, how the hell was he going to help.

"I’m here, Severus." Harry said astutely, and kissed him softly. "I don’t know for how long, but I am here now," he finished, pulling away barely enough to speak. So close Snape could feel more than hear the words as soft lips and warm air moved against his face.

For however long it lasted, he had found that anchor. He wasn’t aware of much beyond the warm hands and soft reassurances, but it was enough. It was more than enough. He would feel guilty about this later, wonder if he had taken advantage, but for now... He needed this. Needed to hold and be held, touch and be touched. He needed Harry.

"You’re less aggravating when you’re six," Snape said as he scrubbed his face with both hands sitting against the maple headboard, sheets and blankets pooled around their waists.

Harry smiled wanly and said, "I doubt that somehow. I don’t know why I’m still here. I should be locked up somewhere."

"I did tell you I wouldn’t send you away, you know."

"Yes but that was before you gave up your life to baby-sit a man who can’t tie his shoes."

"At least," Snape quipped half heartedly, "you’re toilet trained."

Harry snorted, "Well yes, there is that."

The banter lightened Snape’s mood considerably. It helped, and Harry seemed to know that and didn’t press.

Finally Harry said softly, "Go to sleep." And snape realized he was drifting off, sitting upright "and take the bear."

Snape looked down to realize that at some point Harry had summoned him. His nose was replaced by a button from one of his frock coats, "Why you little...,’

"Go to bed. Get some sleep." Harry repeated.

Snape went the last feeling that of lips ghosting over his forehead. He woke up clutching the bear.








Epilogue

That night was the beginning of Harry’s true recovery. It seemed that Snape’s pain brought him back when nothing else could. He was present and himself more and more, though he still had moments when the past would overwhelm him. He no longer retreated to child hood, but would freeze and tremble uncontrollably. Snape would hold him and know that he was fighting not to slip away again and that it wasn’t easy.

One day after a particularly bad episode Harry just lifted his head and kissed Snape. Snape froze for a moment and felt like a pedophile. Harry chuckled softly and said, "I’m not really six you know," and kissed him again. This time Snape responded and kissed him back, opening his mouth to the slick tongue, and wondered if he’d ever have allowed Harry this close if he hadn’t spent the better part of a year taking care of him.

He had seen a side of Harry he would otherwise have never known existed. The boy, no the man’s courage was remarkable. He had come through it all. He had scars, as did Snape, but the trust Harry had in him was absolute. Snape wondered too if that would ever have happened without the past year. He doubted it, quite seriously. The year had been hell, but they had learned and they had gotten through it... together.

Snape wound his arms around Harry and held him closer. He never wanted to let him go. He never wanted to be let go. Snape nipped an ear lobe and Harry gasped quietly and pushed closer into his body and warmth. "I love you," Harry said simply.

"I know," and he did. There was no doubt in his mind that Harry loved him, or that he loved Harry. After all they had endured there was no other way for this to end. They had come through fire, and it had fused them, melded their hearts and souls and lives together. He could no more chosen to not love Harry than he could have grown another limb.

END