Harry had asked him to take the time to consider this proposal, to refrain from rejecting it out of hand, but he couldn't even think about the prospect of casual telepathy without panicking. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was on his feet. For a moment, he didn't know where he was going, but then he headed for the hearth, drawn by the warmth. He walked straight up to it, getting so close that his robes were in danger of igniting in the dancing flames.
On some level, he'd always known it would come to this. It always did.
His body was never enough. Every time he'd gotten involved with a more powerful wizard, they always wanted his soul as well. Harry's motivations were nobler than those of the others, but the end result would be the same.
No matter what he did, Severus knew he was doomed. Should he agree, his secrets would be bared to the light. Harry would see what he was, how utterly unworthy he was of him, and leave. And, if he refused, Harry would leave just as surely for his lack of faith. No matter which way he played this scene, there was no chance of their relationship surviving it.
"Severus?" Harry was at his side almost instantly, reaching out to lay a tentative hand on his arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"
A thousand memories ripped through him, the most painful involving a face that resembled Harry's far too much for Severus' peace of mind. Another of Albus' idiotic ideas gone awry. The disaster of trying to teach Harry Potter the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency had been nothing when compared to what had happened with his father. As Severus stood there trembling before the fire, all he could feel was the memory of James' power surrounding him as James' mind plundered the secrets of his soul during their final lesson, when the suspicious Potter had raped his memories to guarantee his loyalty to Dumbledore. The bitterest part of it all was that Severus was never certain that Albus hadn't ordered James to do it. And now James' son was asking for access to his mind.
He tried so hard to keep Harry and James separate these days. James was his enemy, Harry his friend and lover. Lately, it wasn't even that much of a battle. But Harry's request to touch his thoughts undid all that hard work and put every instinct he owned in fight or flight mode.
Severus knew that Harry would never violate his memories the way his father had. Even if he hadn't had faith enough in his lover's character, Harry's actions had proven his integrity when he'd resisted the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity when their minds were joined in October. In his heart, he knew he had nothing to fear from Harry, except Harry's reaction to what he was underneath all his shields, but his body didn't seem able to forget what someone wearing that face had done to him once when he'd trusted and it clutched tight in panic.
"You're shaking," Harry noted softly.
Severus tensed at another touch, but it was only a blanket landing on his shoulders. Harry must have transfigured it or summoned it. Harry wrapped it around him and stepped closer to him. After a minute or so of non-response on his part, Harry's left arm gently circled his back, Harry's hand landing on his biceps. It was almost a one-armed hug, Severus realized.
They stood that way for a long time, until the trembling stopped.
"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "I knew you wouldn't like the idea, but I didn't expect it to . . . be this upsetting, but I should have realized. Back in October, you were seriously considering facing the dementors rather than allowing me to touch your thoughts. Can you tell me what's wrong?"
He felt like a fool. Not knowing what to say, Severus took a shaky breath. He could feel Harry's worried gaze digging into the side of his face.
"Never mind. Come on. Let's sit down, all right?" Harry urged.
Because Harry had never betrayed him yet, he allowed himself to be led back to the couch.
Once there, Harry glanced at the nearest end table and a steaming teapot, mugs, and milk pitcher appeared beside Harry's empty eggnog mug.
It was nothing unusual. He saw Harry do magic like that a dozen or more times a day. But for some reason, this casual display of Harry's tremendous power made him realize how entirely helpless he would be if Harry chose to force the issue as his father had. He knew Harry wouldn't, but it was unnerving to know that there would be no preventing Harry from taking anything he wanted from his mind.
Attempting to get a hold of his runaway emotions, Severus watched as Harry prepared him a cup of tea.
Accepting the offered cup, Severus curled his hands around the oversized mug, trying to absorb its warmth. Despite the blanket and hearth's proximity, he was still cold inside.
Harry watched him sip his tea for a few moments before asking, "Are you all right?"
Realizing how ridiculously he was behaving, Severus did his best to pull himself together and mutter, "Forgive me. I'm . . . fine."
"You're not fine. You're still white as a sheet." In an extraordinarily gentle voice, Harry said, "This is more than just aversion, Severus. Give me a clue as to what I'm dealing with here. Please? I've hurt you again, and I don't even know how or why."
Wondering how much worse an idiot he could make himself, Severus quickly denied, "You didn't hurt me." After a moment, he added, "You're the only lover who never has."
He could almost have replaced the word 'lover' with 'friend' and remained equally honest.
The world seemed to freeze around Severus as he absorbed the enormity of what he'd confessed. He hadn't meant to tell Harry that, hadn't intended to reveal so much. Feeling unbearably exposed, he stared down into his milky tea. He couldn't help but wonder what Harry must think of him.
Harry's hand settled on his blanket-draped shoulder as Harry asked, "Tell me, please?"
Severus knew he was lucky. With Burke or Lysander or any of the other powerful wizards he'd been sexually involved with, his mind would be under attack right now. Thinking that conversation was more easily controlled than a telepathic inquisition, Severus tentatively asked, "What would you like to know?"
"You said that everyone else had hurt you. Are we talking physical or telepathic abuse?" Harry asked in such a wary tone that Severus couldn't find it in him to refuse to respond.
Abuse? Was that what they called it?
It took Severus a while to find an answer that he could stand to voice, one that wouldn't make Harry think him more of a coward than he must already deem him. Forcing himself to hold that gaze, he answered, "I have known both . . . occasionally at the same time."
Severus waited for the condemnation, the demand as to how a wizard as powerful as he was could allow such misuse to occur even once, much less repeatedly. But Harry didn't castigate him. Instead, Harry's face crinkled into a wince. Severus realized that his confession seemed to have hurt Harry, rather than angered or disappointed him.
Severus appreciated that Harry didn't drag him into a hug, but gave him the physical distance he needed at the moment.
It seemed to take Harry a couple of minutes to find his voice before he hesitantly enquired, "How bad?"
"The ill treatment?" At Harry's nod, Severus took a deep breath and offered, "Depending upon my partner's . . . proclivities, the physical could be as intense as Cruciatus, the telepathic as . . . intrusive and painful as what you experienced with Voldemort in the final battle."
"Your lovers did this to you?" Harry accentuated the word as though he simply couldn't wrap his mind around the concept.
Unable to withstand the emotions in Harry's too perceptive gaze, he lowered his own to his cup, and answered, "I'm not the sort of man who inspires tenderness in partners."
"That's bullshit!" Harry spat, drawing closer rather than pulling away. "You're the most considerate lover I've ever had."
"It's . . . different with you," Severus softly protested.
Harry didn't immediately discount his words, asking instead, "Different how?"
He supposed he should have anticipated that question. His mouth running dry, Severus tried to find a means to explain that would allow him to retain something of his pride. But there was nothing in the truth that would allow him any dignity, so he tried to deflect Harry by telling him about their encounters, rather than the humiliations of his youth. "You have treated me with respect, as an equal from your first touch."
"And the others didn't?" Harry questioned, seeming genuinely confused.
Severus couldn't conceive how anyone could look at him and still fail to understand, but Harry truly didn't get it. "Over the last two decades, I have refrained from sexual activity, but when I was younger and my hunger more intense, I would . . . attempt to find satisfaction as any young man might." Severus gulped hard and forced himself to continue. "Only, I wasn't like most young men. I have always been . . . . " Even though Harry knew it as well as he did, it was still difficult to say this to his lover, ". . . painfully unattractive. I had neither riches nor social graces to make up for my physical shortcomings. But I burned like every other young man my age and needed the same as they. I was also drawn by intense magical power, even then." He stopped speaking, glancing over at Harry and praying that Harry would piece the rest together, but his lover's face was a frustrating blank.
"I still don't understand how that relates to what those bastards did to you," Harry softly said. There was anger in his eyes, but it didn't seem to be aimed at him.
Severus could feel his face burning with shame and the tea churning in his stomach. His grip went white around the mug in his hands as he gave Harry the unadorned truth, "The men I was drawn to, they could easily have their pick of lovers. In order for them to consent to be with me, I had to offer them . . . the sort of things most men would never voluntarily engage in. Some preferred physical torment, but the most powerful enjoyed mental domination."
"Oh, my god," Harry whispered. His expression seemed to suggest that the obnoxious eggnog and their Christmas dinner were about to make a reappearance.
Harry's reaction being fully as shocked as he'd dreaded, Severus continued in a voice that sounded dead to even his own ears, "I'm not proud of what I permitted, but at the time I was . . . quite desperate, and there really was no other way."
Severus looked back down as warm liquid splashed onto his hands. Surprised, he saw that they were shaking so badly that the tea was sloshing out of the mug.
Harry's hand came into Severus' line of sight, took the cup from his clenched grip, and silently levitated it to the side table. "No wonder you don't want anybody mucking around in your head. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"How could you?" Severus replied, stunned by his lover's acceptance of what he considered shameful failures on his own part. A man like Harry would never have allowed himself to be brutalized that way.
"You've never told anyone about any of this, have you?" Harry asked with unexpected gentleness.
His gaze jumped to Harry's handsome face. The anticipated disgust wasn't there. Harry looked angry, and faintly sick, but mostly concerned . . . for him.
A breath away from falling apart totally, Severus forced himself to give a characteristically disdainful snort as he answered, "Until a few weeks ago, there wasn't anyone who would have cared."
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
Confused by the apology, for all he could think was that Harry was apologizing for his need to break things off now that he knew the truth, Severus gathered his controls tightly about him as he asked, "For what?"
"That you suffered that way. That there wasn't anyone there to care. I wish . . . ." Harry's words faltered as he looked down to where his hand rested on Severus' shoulder, lying on the blue blanket that was wrapped around Severus.
"What do you wish?" Severus tensed. Common sense was telling him that Harry was wishing that he'd never heard any of the no doubt disappointing things Severus had just told his lover, but his heart heard the raw emotion in Harry's voice and insisted that his mind was wrong, that Harry wasn't disgusted with him.
"I wish that we were the same age, that I could've been there for you," Harry softly offered.
"You would have hated me the same as your father," Severus said.
"No," Harry insisted, his voice tense and angry. "I'm not like him. Even if we'd hated each other, I would never have done the things he did to you."
Severus gulped as he stared into Harry's troubled gaze. After a moment, he allowed, "No, you wouldn't have. But that doesn't mean you would have liked me."
"I suppose you're right." Harry sighed. "I just wish I could have protected you from all that."
Severus started, unable to hide his shock as he stared into Harry's upset face. Harry's desire to protect him was as unique in his experience as Harry's love for him.
After a moment, Harry's hand slipped down from his shoulder to clasp his hand as Harry said, "Severus . . . the way you talk about this, you make it sound as though . . . mistreatment were the best you could hope for from a lover back then. There wasn't anything wrong with you or lacking; it was the men you were associating with. If you'd had a different type of partner . . . ."
"I would never have had sex at all," Severus finished, appreciating what Harry was attempting to do, for all that it wasn't true.
"That's ridiculous," Harry denied. "Of course you would have had sex."
"What normal man would . . . choose to be with me without compulsion or ulterior motives?" Severus asked.
"I know I'm not anyone's idea of normal, but I'm not that much of a freak, am I?" Harry uncertainly questioned. "I chose to be with you. Anyone in their right mind would have done the same thing after the sex we had in the forest that first night. Severus, you have a lot to offer anybody."
