Title: Benefits
Author: schemingreader
Team: Dragon
Genre(s): Postwar, hurt/comfort
Prompt(s): ritual
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9,629
Summary:
A/N: Thanks to Rexluscus , timetiger, scrtkpr, regan_v, and fitofpique for reading and commenting. I apologize for anything they advised me to do that I didn't and that you wish I had, and for any other errors.
Harry was flying on his new Firebolt over Godric's Hollow, over the house he'd lived in with his parents when he was a baby. He looked at the roof. There were some loose tiles. He and Ron were going to have to get up there with some tacks and a hammer and fix that. He swooped down to look at the back garden.
His friends from school had come along to help with the renovations of his house. It was too bad Neville couldn't stay longer, but it had been good to have his help with the garden. The little trees they'd planted looked very promising. There were rose bushes in bags leaning against the house, and Harry was going to plant some bulbs that they'd ordered by owl from a wizarding greenhouse. This was why Harry had fought the war: to have a home and a normal life.
He pulled up and flew for the sheer joy of it, dipping and swooping and enjoying the late July feeling of the air here. Of course it felt right to fly--he'd been flying since he could walk.
That made him think of his parents, and then about how all of their friends who could have told him about them were dead, and that made his throat close. Harry tried to shake the thought. The whole point was to get on with things. None of this stupid introspection. He needed to get air and exercise--then he'd be able to sleep at night and not have strange dreams. He zoomed around some more. It was lovely up here.
Hermione waved up at him from where she was standing on the patio they had laid in the back garden. He smiled and waved back.
Hermione and Ron were holding hands. They'd fallen for each other, finally. His parents had probably been the same, at this age. Harry wished that he'd known them. Though as he was their son, he might not have felt so excluded and on the outside of their relationship as he did with Hermione and Ron.
Since he'd broken up with Ginny, he'd felt left out of those things. Ginny hadn't wanted to come along to Godric's Hollow if they weren't dating, and her mum hadn't wanted her to come along if they were, so she hadn't come. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to be with her or not, but he was lonely.
This was bloody unproductive thinking.
"Oi, Ron! Want to come up and help me fix the roof?"
"Ooh!" A higher voice squeaked, "Can I help, Harry?"
Luna. Oh well, she would do all right. "Yeah, why not?"
She wasn't that great on a broom, but her enthusiasm compensated for her wobbly flight. "Ron's doing dinner again tonight," she said. "So I get to use the hammer!"
"Harry! Wake up!" It was the middle of the night. Hermione was peering into his face, her wild hair brushing against him. She had that look of intense concern. "Who's alive?"
"What?" Harry tried to rub the dream out of his eyes. Luna was also sitting on the edge of his bed, and then Ron stumbled in.
So much for the pretense that Ron was sleeping in Harry's room.
"Is it Voldemort, Harry?" Hermione insisted.
"No, he's properly dead, Hermione," Luna said.
"My scar doesn't hurt or anything," Harry said. "I was having a dream about--someone."
Ron yawned and scratched his belly. "Yeah, we sussed that out, mate."
"Do you always yell when you have bad dreams?" Luna asked. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts in the Gryffindor dorms with a lot of people sitting on his bed. Luna's hair was messier than usua, her pajama top was buttoned wrong, and her face was all flushed with sleep.
"Yeah," Ron answered for him. "He does."
"I do?"
"Why were you yelling, 'you're alive!' in your dream?" Hermione was not going to let it go. She had some funny welts on her neck. Luna had them, too.
"I can't remember," Harry said.
"Do you want go down to the kitchen and get a snack?" Luna asked, yawning.
"Yes, I do," Harry said. She was always anticipating what he was about to say. He put a hand on her arm. "I remember. It was Snape," he said. "Snape is still alive."
They sat in the pleasant kitchen in Godric's Hollow. The renovations they were doing by day had included installing a huge, enchanted, blue-enameled Aga range. It was good having a magical one that didn't need a pilot, since it would be so bloody hot in August. Ron insisted that hot chocolate would cool them off, as he heated the milk on the stove and mixed in big pieces of chocolate from a yellow box.
"See, you are better at it than I am," Hermione said. "I still think it's only tea that cools in hot weather."
"It's hot in Mexico, and this is Mexican chocolate." Ron stirred the pot, facing away from them. "Yeah, of course, I'm better, because I pay attention."
Luna and Hermione exchanged a smile, and Hermione mouthed, "He does now."
What was going on with them? The chocolate smelled good, like cinnamon. Ron poured a mug of it for Harry first, floating it over to him with a wand flick.
Harry held the mug, waiting for the others to get theirs. His fingertips were cold from the eerie dream.
"So Snape's alive, eh?" Ron asked. He didn't sound surprised.
"Just because I dreamed it doesn't mean it's true."
"Yeah, right," Ron said.
"How could he have survived?" Hermione asked.
"How could he fly out the window?" Ron said.
"How could I have survived?" Harry said. "I let Voldemort use the Killing Curse on me. This is really brilliant hot chocolate, Ron."
"See," Hermione began.
"Snape sacrificed his life, too," Luna said. "Maybe he also reversed some ancient magic."
"Or it could just be a dream," Hermione suggested.
"Do you think it's just a dream?" Luna asked Harry.
"No." He took a sip of the chocolate and closed his eyes. He could see his dream again: Snape lying in a bed, eyes tightly shut and colourless mouth in a grimace, the bite mark livid on his neck, chest rising with shallow breaths. "If he survived, why is he sick three months later? Something is odd." He looked up.
Hermione was nodding. "You have had predictive dreams before, Harry. We should investigate."
"Yeah," Ron said, his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Anyway, it's pretty unlikely that this is You-know--er, Voldemort, exploiting your affection for someone who you love. This is Snape. You don't even like Snape."
Harry ran his finger over the brushed metal of the new kitchen table. It wasn't like with Sirius, except maybe it was, a little. Snape was his mum's friend like Sirius was his dad's, he though now, though that had made Sirius love Harry and Snape hate him.
Except that perhaps he didn't quite hate Harry. He had at least been upset when he thought Harry was going to die. Harry saw it in Snape's memories in the Pensieve after he died. Or after Harry had thought he died.
"You have felt guilty about his sacrifice, though," Luna said.
"Do any Death Eaters know that?" Hermione asked. "You did tell everyone about it when you killed Voldemort."
"I didn't think it was a secret any longer, as we thought Snape was dead," Harry said. "He must be furious that I told."
"It's not as though he expects you to find him," Ron said. "If he is alive, I mean." Hermione glared at him. "You don't have to go find him," Ron insisted.
"I know where he lives," Harry said. "It was in the memories. I know the name of the neighborhood, anyway. It's called Spinner's End. He's from the same town as my mother." He paused and drank the cooling chocolate, and then rested his head on his hand. "Not that I know the name of the town where she grew up."
"Your aunt--" Hermione said.
Harry yawned. "Dunno where the Dursleys are, anyway."
Luna put her hand on Harry's arm. "You should go back to bed, Harry."
"I'm not very sleepy."
She shrugged and smiled. They all got up. Hermione set the dishes to washing themselves.
"This time," Luna said as they went up the stairs to the bedrooms, "when you have the dream, just remember it, all right?" As if he could control that. Just like Snape, telling you to clear your mind, as though you could just make your brain do whatever you liked.
Fucking Snape. If he was alive, he knew a lot more about Harry's mother than he'd ever said. Harry yearned briefly, absurdly, for Snape to tell him about Lily. Like that would really happen.
He lay down, and the rest of them went into the next room, leaving him alone. He put his head on the pillow, shut his eyes, and breathed. He saw colors for a moment before he fell asleep.
He was back in the Shrieking Shack, and Snape was bleeding, looking into his eyes. This time Harry was able to speak. "Please don't die."
"You didn't say that before," Snape said.
"I meant to. I thought I hated you, but I was only angry. I didn't want you to die. Don't die."
"Look at me," Snape said, and Harry was falling forward into the dark tunnels of his eyes.
Then he was somewhere else, a house, a bedroom, with Snape in a bed. Snape's wounds were closed over, and his chest moved like he was breathing, but Snape's eyes were closed.
"Which is it? Is this just a dream because I'm sad that so many people died? Are you really alive?"
Snape opened his eyes, and they were just sad adult eyes, not empty or cold-looking. "I wish I were dead. Everything hurts." Harry could see that, and he reached his hand out to touch Snape, as he never had in life, and woke up.
It was morning; late summer sun was coming through the window. His face was dry of tears, but his heart was going fast.
The door clicked as Ron came into the room they supposedly shared.
"The girls went out," he said. "I think they are having some kind of contest or something. You shouldn't have told them where Snape was."
"But I don't know where he is, exactly."
"But you will, by teatime. No, wait, there's the two of them now. By lunchtime."
Harry shaved, had a shower, and washed his hair. He was a lot better for the sleep. He could hear Ron banging about downstairs. Hermione had dared Ron to learn to cook, or something like that, and Ron was much better at it than she had ever been. He must have learned from his mother. When Harry got downstairs, there were two steaming plates with scrambled eggs, mushrooms, sausage, and half a grilled tomato on each.
"The girls must have got their own," Ron said, waving his wand so that the toast popped out of the grill onto their plates.
"I swear, Ron..." Even the mushrooms were amazing--tender, not rubbery.
"I know, I know, better than Kreacher."
They tucked into it silently. It was brilliant to just hang about with Ron. You didn't have to discuss things. They went out to the garden and planted a few more rosebushes, and then just messed about, conjuring gazebos and fountains to see if they liked them.
It was a peaceful morning, but in the pit of his stomach, Harry had that feeling he got before some big adventure.
At 11:30, there were two audible pops, and Hermione and Luna came running toward him, grinning.
"We found him," Luna fairly trilled.
"We found Spinner's End," Hermione corrected her, a little out of breath. "We'll need you to come along and see whether the place matches the memories."
"We found the house where the Snape family lived in the 1970s," Luna said, "in Spinner's End, in Todmorden, in Yorkshire. The librarian was amazingly helpful. Did you know about this computer thing? Muggles are so clever."
"It was very hard to tear her away, and in any case most of the information was in the telephone directories, which they had on microfiche."
"What's a..." Ron began. "Never mind."
"There were five Spinner's Ends and many Snapes, but only one Snape on a Spinner's End," Luna said.
"But why would he even be there?" Ron asked.
Luna seemed surprised. "Where else would he go?"
"I've packed our bag," Hermione said briskly. She held out the old evening bag and pulled out a map.
"See!" Luna said, "The librarian could print out the map with her computer, and she didn't need magic or anything! The printer used electricity. It was very exciting."
"Are we going right now?" Ron asked.
"If you don't need to use the loo first," Hermione said.
Ron rolled his eyes.
"I'm joking," Hermione said. "I didn't pack your things for you, either."
"I packed my own things," Ron said. "And Harry's." He held up a knapsack.
"You packed my things?"
"I told you they would get this done today," Ron said.
"I can pack my own things," Harry insisted. "You said by teatime."
"Let's go," Luna said, tugging his arm. "I made a portkey." She pulled a library card out of her pocket, the other two touched
it, and Harry felt the familiar pull under his navel.
The library card was keyed to a street in front of a row of terraced houses, all brick and old. The street was cobblestoned and quaint. It didn't look as poor as he would have thought from Snape's memories. The doors were freshly painted in blue and green. All the windows had curtains and plants.
"This is it," Hermione said, "Number 43 Spinner's End. It looks quite gentrified."
They all looked at Harry. He shrugged and mounted the steps. He was halfway up before he realized that he was alone and looked back.
"You aren't coming?" Harry asked.
Ron started to follow him, and Hermione pulled on his shirt and jerked her head. "He has to do this alone," she whispered. Luna nodded to Harry, smiling.
He turned back to the door and knocked, but there was no answer. Of course if Snape was sick in bed, he wouldn't answer.
Nor would he if he knew it was Harry, come to visit him.
"Alohamora!" Harry cast softly. The door opened. The others were still at the bottom of the steps. He looked at them and they all nodded, so he went inside.
The door shut behind him.
"Professor Snape?" He kept his wand out. It could still be a trap.
He walked into the silent house, past a room full of dusty books. Snape was up the stairs in a bedroom, Harry remembered. He had seen this staircase, the dirty little window on the landing, the upstairs hall. He walked unerringly to the bedroom door, and knocked, and pushed it open.
There was Snape. He seemed smaller than Harry remembered, and even sallower and more unkempt. He was breathing, his eyes shut.
"You're alive," Harry said.
Without opening his eyes, Snape shook his head. Harry came closer, right next to the bed. Snape cleared his throat, a terrible sound. "Go away, Potter," he said, his voice gone all raspy. He tried to clear his throat again. "Go away."
"I'm sorry that I didn't understand..." Harry said.
"You weren't meant to. Just go away and let me be."
Harry reached out and tried not to think about what he was doing as he pushed the oily hair away from Snape's forehead. Snape shuddered and opened his eyes. He looked pinched with pain. Harry smoothed his forehead.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I want to take you to a Healer. I want to make you better. I told everyone you killed Dumbledore, and then I told them all you were dead."
"You were supposed to think that. I am clearly dreaming. Mental discipline shot to hell. Don't know why you aren't Lily though." He shut his eyes and a tear leaked out of one. "I did it all for her and it's always you in the dreams."
"Sorry," Harry said again. "I'm going to make you better." He took Snape's hand in his free hand and squeezed it. "I'll make you better," he said again, and a flash of light shot out of his wand and made a sigil in the air.
A little of the colour came back into Snape's face, and he took the hand Harry was holding, rubbed his face, and suddenly sat up.
"What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," Harry said.
Snape gritted his teeth. "You have once again used a spell without knowing what it is."
"No, I didn't say a spell."
Snape jerked his head at the fading sigil. "I think you have. What do you call that?"
"Er...looks like something from Ancient Runes, but I didn't take that class. It came out of my wand, but I didn't..."
Snape muttered something under his breath. "Well, copy it down before it fades, you dunderhead. Or give me a quill and I will."
Harry had a pad of paper and a biro in his shirt pocket--he was using them to plan the garden--so he handed those to Snape. The biro wouldn't write. Snape took his wand to it. Why hadn't Harry learnt the spell to make a stuck biro write? Perhaps Snape had made it up himself.
The sigil finally faded, leaving a shimmering ghost of itself on the air.
Snape stretched his arms. "I don't feel any worse, so I'm going to get out of bed and take a shower."
"You mean you're better."
"Fine, I'm better. I'm sure some important internal organ is going to spontaneously explode while I'm bathing, but while I can I'm going to get clean." Snape gestured for Harry to move, and then swung his legs down to the floor. He stepped down gingerly, then rose and stood. "I'm sure this too will have a price," he said as he moved into the hallway. He was wearing pyjamas, but he moved like he was in robes, with his typical gliding walk. "Try not to break anything." He scowled at Harry, his eyes full of sparkle and malice.
When he heard the shower start, Harry walked downstairs. Hermione and Luna were sitting at the kitchen table, reading something. "Snape has no food," Ron said.
"He thought he was going to die," Luna said.
"He has to have been here for weeks," Hermione said. "He has to have eaten something. Accio Snape's rubbish bin."
"Hermione!" Harry said as the bin flew past. "Let the man have some privacy!"
Ron goggled at him.
"There are biscuit boxes and sardine tins, and a few tea bags," Hermione reported. "He hasn't been eating very well for someone who needs to recover from being poisoned."
She put the bin down. Harry sighed; the last thing he wanted was for Snape to come in while Hermione was checking his rubbish.
"He had to eat things he could Summon," Luna said.
"Well, he's in the shower now," Harry said. "Did one of you take Runes?"
"Yes," Luna said. He held out the notebook to her, and she took it. "Oh, Harry," she said. She smiled and shook her head.
"What?" Ron said.
Hermione looked over her shoulder and went white around her nose, as she sometimes did when very upset. "Did he do that spell we--I knew it was one of the best possibilities, but he didn't even--oh Harry, you've done so much already, shouldn't we have at least tried more conventional means? I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would have treated him."
"What do you mean?"
Hermione got a little teary eyed. "You did this by accident, didn't you?"
"What are you talking about?" Was she going to burst into tears? "Maybe Luna should tell me, if she knows too."
"Tell him what?" Ron was staring at her. "He doesn't have to die again, does he?"
"No."
"All right. I'll come to Tesco's with you then, and you can tell me on the way. I'm not about to leave Harry here alone if he thinks he has to face death." Ron set down his spoon. "Though we already let him face Snape on his own, and that can't have been much better."
"But Ron, he had to," Luna said. Hermione got up and kissed Luna in a way that didn't look exactly sisterly, and then she and Ron went into the living room.
Luna looked at Harry with a sort of dottily encouraging expression. Harry could still hear the shower going and Hermione and Ron arguing in low voices in the next room. Now was his chance to find out what was going on. "Are you sleeping with Hermione and Ron?"
"Yes, and having sexual intercourse with them. It's a," Luna paused to think, "friends-with-benefits arrangement."
"They're having a friends-with-benefits arrangement with you!"
"Yes, Dean explained it to me once. It's when you're friends with a person and also have sex with them."
"But," Harry tried to say something, even though his throat was all tight. Luna anticipated his thought, again.
"The reason they aren't doing that with you is that they would both be jealous. They don't have those kinds of feelings about me."
"They--what kinds of feelings?"
"You know, Hermione is jealous that you like Ron better, Ron is jealous that Hermione might like you better, Ron is afraid to have sex with another boy, that sort of thing." Luna waved her hand in the air.
"Oh," Harry said.
"If they loved me as much as they love you, they wouldn't sleep with me."
"But why are they sleeping with you?"
She shrugged. "I'm good at helping people have multiple orgasms. I think Hermione thought I had made them up, until I showed her." Harry didn't know what multiple orgasms were, exactly, but he tried to look like he believed in them. "Sometimes people can be shy with each other," Luna went on, "and I know a lot about clitorises. They're in love, and I'm helping. Ron is surprisingly open-minded. He likes to watch Hermione come."
God, how embarrassing. "But that's not fair to you, Luna, don't you need--"
"I need true friends who trust me. I like to have sex." She turned her blue eyes on him. "You don't have to protect me, or offer to have sex with me so they won't exploit me. They aren't hurting me, and you've made enough sacrifices."
"What?"
Luna smiled at him. "I don't think I'm your type."
"I have a type? I mean, no, Luna, wait, I think you're very pretty."
"Thank you Harry, I like the way you look too." She patted his arm. "But I think it's a good thing that you like men, because otherwise you wouldn't be able to have sex with Professor Snape."
Harry shook his head to clear it. "What did you say?" He must have misheard, because that was absurd, even for Luna.
"It's a good thing that you like men, because otherwise you wouldn't be able to have sex with Professor Snape. You will need to do that, to complete the healing spell. Otherwise, he'll continue to deteriorate until he dies."
Harry sat still for about a minute, a roaring like the ocean in his ears. "Hermione! Could you come back here a minute?"
Luckily, they hadn't left yet. Ron was red all over.
"Luna says," Harry began, and swallowed, "Luna says that I have to have sex with Professor Snape. That's not true, is it? It's like nargles, right?"
"Er," Hermione began.
"Why is it like nargles? Do you have to have sex under mistletoe?" Ron asked.
"Nargles are real?" Harry's voice went up on the last word.
Ron shrugged. He was still blushing. "At least you don't have to die, right?"
"Except when Snape KILLS ME! Are you out of your mind? He's going to be furious!"
"So?" Ron said. "He can't take points anymore."
Luna was laughing, a sweet and silvery sound. "You aren't afraid of Professor Snape, Harry."
"Harry wasn't even afraid of You-know-er--Voldemort," Ron said.
"Oh bollocks, Ron. Anyway, that was different."
"Why?" Hermione and Luna asked at the same time.
Why? Why? Snape no longer had any power over him. The worst he could do was say something nasty. "I just don't like it when he--" What could he say? That he was more reluctant to face insults than certain death?
Fortunately or not, Snape chose this moment to descend the stairs to his kitchen. He loomed in the doorway. Luna rose to her feet. "Professor Snape," she said. "Good morning."
"Is this a home invasion?" Snape said. "Am I being robbed? What are you doing here?"
"No sir," Luna said, "It's a rescue."
"A rescue," Snape said. His voice was dangerously soft. "Get out of my kitchen."
"Sir," Hermione began. "The spell Harry did upstairs just now..."
"Get out."
Hermione would not be quelled. "I'm afraid you will become ill again if we don't intervene and--"
"Shut up, and get out."
They were all edging toward the door. Harry could feel all the blood rushing to his face. He turned on Snape and just said it. "Luna thinks that if we don't have sex, you'll die."
"Luna Lovegood also thinks that the Ministry of Magic is being taken over by vampire dentists," Snape said.
"Harry cast Beneficus," Hermione said.
"I didn't mean to do it."
Snape looked greenish. He drew himself up. "Get out. I would not have sex with you if my life depended on it, which I'm fairly certain it does not."
"But--"
"Get out, get out, get out!" The others were on the doorstep, but Harry stood his ground.
"I think you won't do it because you're afraid." He heard the door close softly as his friends left him there.
Snape froze. "You can't manipulate me with accusations of cowardice."
Harry rather thought he had. "I know some men are afraid to have sex with other men."
Snape guffawed. "Some men! You are bluffing, aren't you?"
"I'm not afraid to do it. It's the right thing to do, if it saves your life. You think I would agree to die to defeat Voldemort and I would be too scared to have sex? It's just the once, how bad could it be?"
"Do you even know what men do in bed?"
Harry paused. In fact, his ideas about what anyone did in bed were rather vague. He liked snogging and messing about, and supposed that it was more of the same, only without clothes. He thought sex in a bed sounded brilliant, hugging and kissing and humping, without getting all damp from sitting in the grass.
"You don't know, do you?" Snape said softly. "You're a virgin. You've never even done it with a girl."
"So," Harry said. He shrugged. "I came close." His face got very warm. "I mean, I've done a bit of snogging, anyway, how different could it be." Quite different, his brain screamed. "I'm only eighteen. I've been busy. I'm not scared to try it, whatever it is."
Sudddenly Snape grabbed him. Harry jumped--Snape never got close to him this way, except for a few times when he had been furious enough to throttle Harry. He looked angry enough to hit him now.
Then Snape was on him, licking and biting at his mouth. It was some sort of violent parody of kissing. He was kissing sarcastically, kissing to make a point. He was doing what he always did, trying to tell Harry that he wasn't old enough or good enough at something, that Snape was better. It was like Occlumency lessons, or Potions, or Defence: Snape had to show his superiority, prove that Harry wasn't ready.
Harry wasn't going to be intimidated by the likes of Snape. If adults kissed hard, Harry would kiss hard. Fucking Snape! He wasn't going to win this one. Harry kissed back with all his might.
Snape let Harry up for air and began licking his throat. Harry bit Snape's earlobe and Snape made obviously phony groaning noises and shoved his pelvis against Harry's. He grabbed Harry's arse and squeezed.
Then he backed away and dropped his hands. "You see, you have no idea."
"That wasn't sex, you were just being a prat--" He looked down. Snape had a hard-on, too. Good; Harry didn't want to be the only one. Even that sort of fake kissing gave him an erection.
"Ah, so you're willing to take a cock up your arse, but you aren't willing to kiss me."
"What? I didn't say that! I kissed you! Cock up my--are you making that up?"
Snape gave him a scornful look. "You don't know what buggery is, and you want to step right up and volunteer for some." Oh right, bugger meant that. He'd known that, he'd just... Harry had mainly thought of it as a rude word that Aunt Petunia had used as an excuse to wash his mouth out with soap. Now he looked a right prat. "Were you thinking you would be on top? Are you up to sticking your fingers in my arse?"
"Is that really part of it?"
"Oh my God, you are a complete idiot."
"Listen Snape, if you are going to die if we don't do it, then I'll bloody well stick my fingers, or whatever, wherever I have to."
"Well, I don't want you to, so fuck off."
Harry stood his ground. "At least let's find out whether Luna is right."
"At least just LEAVE ME ALONE!" Snape began storming up and down, doing his red in the face, spittle-flying temper tantrum, like when Harry had helped Sirius escape, in third year, or when Harry looked in his pensieve, in fifth year, or when Harry called him a coward, in sixth year. Snape had tremendous self-control, except sometimes when he didn't.
"No," Harry said. He came in closer. It was like approaching Buckbeak; a dangerous creature that needed a show of tentativeness and respect. "No, I'm not leaving. You can't die."
"I hate you."
"I know." Harry got in close enough to touch Snape on the arm. Snape jerked away but seemed to calm himself.
"I've stayed alive for you long enough."
They just stood there, almost touching, eyes locked. Harry didn't even know why he was doing this.
The front door opened. "Professor? Harry? We're back." Luna came in smiling. "We got some food at the market, and the other things you are going to need for your sex ritual."
"Shut up and get out," Snape said again. He turned suddenly and swept up the stairs, as much as one could sweep in Muggle clothing.
"Getting on better, then?" Luna asked Harry.
"No," Harry said. He turned to the three of them. "What did I do and why does it mean that I have to have sex with him? And what does 'sex' mean, exactly?" Ron was all red again. "I mean, what does it mean for the purposes of this spell."
"You made a magical vow," Hermione said. "Did you say something three times, with your hand on your wand, and clasping his hand with the other? You pledged to do whatever he needed to recover, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I meant that I'd take him to St. Mungo's!" Harry couldn't meet Ron's eyes now.
"When he nearly died for you," Luna said, "he passed through a liminal state demarcated by blood as a bodily fluid, and the breaking of the physical boundaries of his body. For one reason or another," she and Hermione exchanged a significant glance, "Professor Snape survived the snake bite, though he appeared to have died. He has remained in a liminal state since then, not dead, but poised on the brink of death."
"What do you mean, for one reason or another?" Harry asked.
"Luna thinks it's because he was willing to die for you, and I suspect that he had anti-venin and blood replenishing potions on hand that he took as soon as we left," Hermione said. "In any case, the spell pledged you to give bodily fluids to replace the ones he lost."
"So why does it have to be sex?" Ron asked. "Can't he just, I don't know, give blood? Or, or, spit? Or piss?" Ron was never going to be the same after this conversation.
"It's because of the sigil," Luna said. "For some reason the sigil that appeared is the one that pledges semen. Perhaps because of your sexual attraction to men."
"Wait, Luna," Harry said. "You keep saying that I have a sexual attraction to men, but I don't think I do. I've only liked girls so far. You know, like Ginny, and Cho Chang."
"I don't think anyone could avoid being attracted to Cho Chang," Luna said. "She's terribly pretty, and very intelligent as well."
"And she's a brilliant Seeker," Ron put in.
"And Ginny--" Harry stopped because of Ron's expression. "Anyway, I've never liked any boys." Hermione cleared her throat, and everyone looked at each other and then looked at the floor, or the wall. "What?"
"Well, you did have that thing about Draco Malfoy," Hermione began. "You were following him around."
"But I didn't like him! He's a coward and a prat!"
"And Oliver Wood, back in third year," Ron said. "And you had a bit of crush on Cedric."
"Well, anyone would have," Luna said again.
"And Ron's brother Bill," Hermione went on.
"Oi!" Ron said. "I don't want to know about that."
"But I didn't like them," Harry insisted. "It wasn't like that." They looked at him. "Was it?" None of the other three said anything.
"Let's have lunch," Hermione said. "Professor Snape needs to eat; he's wasting away."
"I'll help Ron with the sandwiches," Harry said quickly. They left Hermione and Luna in Snape's murky livingroom. Snape's kitchen was relatively light, since the curtains over the windows weren't as heavy.
"This is one of those old houses that had the shower off the back door, practically in the garden," Ron said. "Must have been a right pain in the arse in the winter."
They talked about how to use magic to fix plumbing, and then about which plants might do well in the back garden, and then talked Quidditch for a bit. Everything was starting to feel normal, as though Harry wasn't in Snape's old house making sandwiches and trying to work out how to get into his pants.
Eventually Snape came downstairs--the tomato soup actually smelled good, Ron had done something to it--and they all had a very awkward and polite meal. Perhaps the professor was pretending that they were all back at school. Harry was stiff; he didn't want to make a mistake with his table manners. They ate in silence, Snape chewing his sandwich with ferocious precision. When he'd ground up every mouthful of bread, soup and butterbeer, Snape stood, nodded to Ron, and went upstairs.
"Right," Hermione said. "Now this is what we know about the sex ritual." She and Luna took up the books they had been consulting in the living room before lunch.
"I don't have to do it naked outside in the moonlight, do I?" Harry asked.
"No."
"Good."
"But you do have to get your semen into Professor Snape's body," Luna said. Harry shut his eyes. "And you do have to be naked." She pointed to the book. "See, it says 'with no let or obstacle, I allow you entrance.'"
"Entrance!" Ron repeated. "I'm going to do the washing up."
"The dishes wash themselves," Hermione said, putting her hand on his arm.
"He doesn't have to stay," Harry said. "Wait! I don't have to do this in front of anyone else?"
"Bad enough you have to do it in front of Snape," Ron muttered. "Or behind him, I suppose I should say."
"Ron!" Hermione said.
"Do I have to, um, go behind him?"
Hermione and Luna said "No" and "Yes" at the same time. "Well, I suppose he could use a face to face position," Hermione said. Ron looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.
"No, I meant that the Professor could take in Harry's semen by mouth," Luna said. "A blowjob, Harry."
"Yeah, right," Harry said. "Like people really do that."
"Harry?" Ron said. His voice was very gentle. "People really do that. What do you think Malfoy meant that time when he said that thing about sucking--"
"Oh come on, Ron! You know I've heard of them, but I thought it was just a being-disgusting-in-the-dorm thing. I mean, does anyone normal really--" They were all quite red now. "I've been busy," Harry said. "I had a lot on my mind."
Ron got up and went into the kitchen. Harry heard him banging the tea kettle onto the stove.
"All right," Harry said. "So it has to be naked, and I have to, um, yes, whatever that's called, and he has to agree--right? I can't just, I don't know, do it while he's sleeping..."
"That would be immoral, Harry," Hermione said. "Also you both have to recite some things."
"In Latin?" Harry said.
"Mostly English," Luna said.
"Okay. I want to make two copies."
"Done," Hermione said. She pulled out two pieces of parchment, but Harry was too wound up to try to read.
"Any specific time of day?"
"Night is better," Luna said. "You have to sleep touching."
"I have to sleep? Can I take a potion? I have to sleep, or just shut my eyes?"
"It should be okay," Luna said. "A lot of people find it easier to sleep after they've had sexual congress."
"With Snape?"
Luna smiled.
Harry knocked on the door to Snape's bedroom. "I've brought a cup of tea." He set it down on the night table next to the bed.
"How useful of you, Potter." Snape was stretched out on his bed as he'd been in the memory Harry'd seen in fifth year, long legs crossed. He had his wand out and was drawing shapes of light with it.
"I'm sure you heard everything we said."
"Yes," Snape said, "I'm amazed you could work that out."
"You were a spy. You'd hardly be able to collect information if you couldn't overhear conversations."
"You know more about spying than you do about sex."
"Here's the spell," Harry said. He handed Snape the parchment. "Sorry about this."
"I'm sure you are."
Harry held onto the doorknob. Would Snape have preferred Harry to be enthusiastic about this? Harry thought about it.
"I'm sorry I'm not my mother," he said.
"I'm sorry you were ever born, Potter, but it can't be helped now," Snape said. Harry must have flinched a little then. "Oh dear, did I spoil the mood?" Snape said.
"No, that's what I expect of you, more or less," Harry said.
He left the room, closing the door just in time for the teacup to smash against it.
It wasn't any harder than fighting a dragon, facing a giant spider, or stealing from Gringotts. Though he'd never had to sleep with the dragons or goblins. And it was much easier than diving naked into ice water. Or maybe it was the same as diving naked into ice water.
He made his way down the stairs. Perhaps he'd go for a walk before the sun set. He wanted to see the playground where his mother had played with Snape and Aunt Petunia.
Why had he known them, the jealous, bitter ones, and not her, the one who wanted only to make things bloom?
It didn't take long to find the little playground; he just walked toward the center of town. It had new brightly coloured equipment, and there were children playing there. They looked happy and tiny. He pushed one little fellow on a swing for a while, and then said goodbye and walked back along the river.
Maybe his dad had been an arrogant, entitled sod in school, but his mother was someone he would have liked to know, and Snape had known her. Whatever it meant for someone as twisted and unhappy as he had been to love someone, he had loved her.
Harry had hated him and then had seen him die, and wished like hell he could call him back. Harry had a second chance.
He walked back to the house.
Luna, Hermione, and Ron were sitting on the front step with their arms linked. "All right," Harry said. "I'm ready."
They stood up and dusted themselves off. "Good," Hermione said. "We've got a meal for you to share, and candles, and wine."
"It's like a date," Ron said, "Except not with someone nice."
"Okay Ron, thanks," Harry said.
"You say the words of the spell--there's another copy with the food, just in case--and then--"
"All right, Hermione, I think I've got it."
"There's lubricant, too, Harry," Luna said. "You can't use a condom for this, I'm afraid."
Harry found the basket with everything in it right on the staircase. He shuddered, squared his shoulders, and went up.
Snape was sitting up in a chair, writing.
"What are you writing?"
"Not that it's any of your affair."
"Not that it's any of my affair."
"I'm writing a letter to you. I meant to write it years ago." He stood up, holding the parchment in his hand. Harry put the basket down. "It's about your mother," Snape said, looking at what he had written, "the late Lily Evans Potter. She was my childhood friend." His voice caught. "My schoolmate, and someone I-- cared for very much. I thought she would want me to tell you some of the things I remember about her, since she loved you and wanted you to be happy."
He wanted this even more than he'd wanted the few crumbs of Sirius' memories of his dad. Harry couldn't move or speak. He wanted to weep, or to throw his arms around Snape and hug him tight, like he would have done with Sirius.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I've always--"
"Good," Snape said. "I thought that was what you wanted. Now you don't have to go through with this farce."
"What?"
"I've given you what you wanted and you can let me die."
"You know, Professor, I tried that the last time," Harry said slowly. "I let you give me what I needed, and I let you die. I don't think I could live with myself if I did that again."
They were both frozen. Harry's pulse sounded in his ears. He had to do this. He crossed the room and slid his arms around Severus Snape, and looked up at him.
Though Snape's hair was already lank again, Harry pushed it away from his face. It wasn't long, sweet-smelling hair. Snape's eyes didn't shine adoringly up at him or anything like that--he was still taller than Harry, a beaky man with bushy eyebrows. He would never be a pretty girl, but he could kiss so that Harry felt that he was the only real thing in the world, so that Harry's consciousness shrunk to his body where it touched Snape's: at the fluent tongue, the soft, thin lips, the arms, like tensile metal bands around his body.
"No," Harry said again, "I won't let you go."
At this, Snape held him hard for a moment, so hard that he nearly forced the breath from Harry's lungs. When he let go, he didn't look at Harry. "Fine," he said. "We'll do it then." He did not look happy or resigned as he pulled out his copy of the parchment, which he had annotated. Harry took the candles out of the basket and set them on the night table.
Harry took out his wand and lit one at the same time as Snape lit the other. He took a silver goblet from the basket and poured some wine into it. Then Snape took the bottle and filled the cup the rest of the way. Then the bread, they each broke a piece and put it on the plate.
Snape recited the spell, "From the union of physical and material, I will be healed. Sharing substance and shadow, spirit and light, I will be healed."
Harry picked up the parchment and found his place. "What you need to heal, I will share." He offered the cup to Snape, who shook his head and indicated that he should drink first. He took a sip of the wine and then held the cup so that Snape could drink. Then they each held a piece of bread out to the other, and ate.
Snape chewed the bread and then held up the cup again for Harry to drink, and they drained the goblet in sips. It seemed to grow more potent and fizzy as they got closer to the bottom. Harry was almost relaxed enough to think about taking off his clothes, which he knew was next, but he still felt like an idiot.
Luckily, Snape couldn't say anything because the ritual required them to be silent when they weren't reciting things. He stood facing Harry across the bed and watched him. He looked at Harry's chest, and arms, and oh God, he was definitely checking out Harry's prick, which for some reason liked the attention and was getting hard. Harry finally caught his eye and gave him a significant look. It's your turn he thought as loudly as he dared.
Snape's face went all blank. Harry watched his expression as he unbuttoned his shirt and hung it over the chair. Then Snape took off his trousers. Harry couldn't just stand there and look at his body while Snape took off his underwear. His face was too hot. He watched Snape's face, still blank and neutral. It was like being in the Quidditch locker room with Oliver Wood, he was so embarrassed. No, it wasn't, because then at least he had his glasses off and couldn't notice how bloody well hung the other bloke was. Why hadn't he taken off his glasses? Snape had a monster. He made Oliver look small.
Harry supposed he had noticed, actually.
Buggery was when men put their pricks up other men's arses. He didn't think he could fit that thing in his mouth, much less his arse. Harry was very hard thinking about it, Snape's cock up his arse.
Snape looked at him, and his fingers were cool on Harry's hot face as he reached across the bed and removed Harry's glasses. Harry shut his eyes and heard the click of the frames as Snape folded them. His heart pounded. Snape came around the bed to him and Harry sensed the warmth of his arms before he felt them on his shoulders. He found Snape's mouth with his eyes shut and kissed. Snape's hot cock fit into the curve of Harry's groin. His chest hair brushed against Harry's nipples.
Harry pushed him down onto the bed, rubbing his cock against the other man's body. Snape ran his hands over Harry's back, and rested them on the small of his back, and Harry just thrust against him. He had to stop or he'd come from just this. Snape licked his jaw and his throat, and then his hands were playing with Harry's arse cheeks.
"With no let or obstacle, I allow you entrance," Harry gasped. Snape started to laugh, so that his chest vibrated under Harry's. He repeated the words, and flipped Harry over so that he could put his mouth on Harry's cock. It was so warm and good, he was sucking, his finger was between Harry's arse cheeks and now probing inside, and Harry couldn't stand it. He groaned, he was sure it sounded false, but had anything ever felt this good? That finger was pressing something deep inside him and Snape's tongue was teasing the head of his prick, and then Snape took him all the way into his throat and hummed. Harry felt his balls pull up and the muscles of his arse contract around that finger and then he was crying out and coming.
Snape swallowed. He sat up. Harry lay there, panting. He looked at Snape, whose face had more colour and more life to it than before.
"You can speak now," Snape said. "And put on your clothes."
"No," Harry said. "Please?" He held out his arms. "I--could we--"
Snape's mouth was crooked like a smile. He came down to Harry's embrace, and Harry kissed him. His mouth tasted of Harry's spunk, something a little salty.
Harry loved kissing. He hadn't done it for a year. He could kiss for ages. Snape wasn't kissing so hard this time, just letting Harry feel their mouths and tongues, moving together. Snape was touching him, stroking down his sides, fingertips skating over his nipple so that Harry could feel his cock hardening.
"You're humming," Snape said. "You like this."
Harry looked up. He was looking right into Snape's eyes. Snape's cock was hard against Harry's belly. "Yes," Harry said. "I think I'm volunteering for buggery."
"Are you?" Snape asked. "Even now that you know what it is?"
"I knew what it was! I just--Yes. If...if you want to."
"Oh, I want to."
"What do I have to do?" Harry asked.
"Turn over."
"That's it?" Harry's voice squeaked a little.
"No." Snape began to run his hands down Harry's back. He traced the shape of Harry's shoulders. He kissed down the length of Harry's spine, his breath tickling the skin, his tongue just damp. He bit the top of Harry's buttock, and then the insides of his thighs, his teeth sharp.
Harry was very hard now. Snape spread his thighs, and he was pushed against the bed. He pulled Harry's cheeks open and then breathed down the crack of his arse. He licked his way down to the skin around Harry's hole, and then licked that soft skin.
He stopped and snickered. "Yes, people really do this," he said. Bastard. Harry was humping the bed mindlessly, trying not to make noise and failing. Snape's finger was in his arse, and he was going mad. One finger was a lot. The teasing was endless. He had two repeating thoughts: how was Snape's cock going to fit inside him, and when, when was he going to finally put it in?
Snape had the lubricant from their basket and was greasing his fingers with it. He'd managed to get two in there, and was pushing them in and out. "Now?" Harry asked.
Snape grunted. He pulled his fingers out of Harry's arse and slicked his cock until he dripped with the stuff. He pulled Harry up to his knees to expose his arse completely. It felt completely strange and wrong, this huge, hot object, the head of Snape's cock, pushing into Harry's body. Yes it hurt a bit, but it was more the stretch of his skin, the slowness, the frustrating exquisite hot slow push inside him that had Harry groaning. Snape continued to push in and there was more, further to go, until he was flush against Harry's back, and Harry could feel his balls hit the backs of Harry's legs.
"How is it?" Snape said low in his ear.
"Big," Harry said. "It's big." Snape reached around and began to touch his cock. Harry felt himself hardening up again as Snape played with him. When Harry was pushing against his hand, Snape began to move. Harry grunted with the first thrust because it was strange. Then Snape pulled back and pushed in again, and Harry grunted again.
Push, grunt, push, grunt, it felt like he was going to burst, his balls were so full, and then Snape leaned down and said, "Yes, you're going to come for me, Harry, you are going to scream and come," and it was true, he was yelling as the thrusts hit something inside him, and Snape was grunting too and thrusting hard and Harry felt him still. The ripples of Harry's orgasm clutched around the huge prick inside him, and he thought he must have spurted up to his own chin.
Snape pulled out of him very slowly and then lay by him on the bed. Harry let one arm creep around Snape's body.
"You can't go to sleep yet, Potter," Snape said a little bit later, breaking through Harry's doze. "Come on."
He rolled out of the bed, and Harry followed him down the hall.
"Was this bath original to the house?" Harry asked.
"No, I put it in during my first year teaching," Snape said.
"Where are my glasses?" Harry asked. He could see his blurred reflection in the mirror.
"It's all right, we're going right back to bed. It's gone eleven."
"Oh, okay," Harry said. They stepped into the shower, and Snape soaped Harry's body, which was almost as amazingly pleasurable as kissing. Semen ran down Harry's legs, and his arse felt sore and smarted where the water hit it, but it was okay. At close range, Harry could see the scars on Snape's neck and the swirls of dark wet hair on his chest. His body was wiry and a little too thin, but he didn't look ill. He was less pale than he'd been at Hogwarts, perhaps because of the heat of the water.
They stepped out of the shower, Harry still sleepy.
Snape brushed his teeth while Harry tried to dry off. He rinsed his mouth a lot. Well, Harry couldn't blame him for that.
He followed Snape blearily back to the bedroom and put on the pyjamas that Snape handed him, and then got under the thin blanket and soft, worn sheet with him. He put his arm around Snape's waist, and Snape let him.
"You're all right now," Harry said as he drifted off. "I kept seeing you die in my dream, but you're all right now," and then he was asleep.
At some point close to dawn, Harry felt Snape kiss his forehead and slip from the bed. He roused himself to squint into the grey light but couldn't see more than a shadow standing at the window. He sat up.
"I don't love you," Snape said. It was quiet in the room, but for the far-off sound of the river, and maybe some traffic, coming through the opened window. "You don't have anything to say to that?"
"That's not really news, is it?"
"How did you like your buggery?"
Harry smiled. "I liked it. I would do it again."
"With me?"
"Yes."
"But you don't love me, either."
Harry had to think about this. He didn't love Snape, but he didn't not love him. It wasn't that simple. "I would like to be friends, though."
"Why?"
"Where are my glasses?" Snape came back to the bed and handed them to him, and Harry put them on. Snape's face came into focus in the half-light. "I know I didn't like my Potions teacher, but I liked the bloke who wrote in my potions textbook. He was funny." Snape didn't say anything to that. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space. He was all nose and eyebrows from this angle. Harry sat up against the headboard.
"I always thought," Snape said, "that I would marry Lily and be happy. Then I made a mistake and we were never friends again. She married someone else, and then she died."
"I'm sorry that you never got to make things right with her. I thought I would never get to make things right with you, when you died. When I thought you'd died, anyway. Even though I hated-- we weren't friends, I was very sorry about it."
"It's not the same. She was the love of my life."
"But this wasn't the first time you'd had sex," Harry said.
Snape pursed his lips. "Of course not."
"Because you're bloody good at it."
"How would you know?"
"Point," Harry said.
"I am good at it," Snape said. "I've had a lot of men."
"Yeah," Harry said. "So if you like men, why did you want to marry my mother?"
"I loved her."
"Do you wish," Harry said. "that you had someone to love, now?"
"Not you." Snape's voice was blunt, hurt-sounding, as though Harry were the one rejecting him.
"Of course not." Harry held his arms out, and Snape slid between the sheets with him.
"Because I don't even like you." Snape's spine slowly relaxed into the curve of Harry's torso, making spoons, and he exhaled through his nose, a contented sound. "I don't."
Harry arranged his arms around Snape, curling around him even more. He put his lips against the bone at the back of Snape's neck. "Yeah, I know."
THE END
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