The way Severus was looking up at him awed him. It went way beyond mere sexual desire. This wasn't just lust, not just convenience . . . it was nearly worship.
Severus moved under him. Their bodies slid together as if they'd done this a thousand times.
Harry eased into Severus' tight, slick channel. Every nerve in his body spiked at how exquisite that slow glide felt. The rhythm was waiting for him. His hips moved by instinct, finding that hidden spot deep inside Severus that was wired to his lover's pleasure centre.
The shocked cry Severus emitted told him he'd hit home. Making sure he made contact with that point every time he entered him, Harry began to thrust in earnest. Spiralling higher and higher, they rocked together, each thrust bringing them that much closer to heaven.
All too soon, Harry came deep inside his lover, then Severus groaned with pleasure as his body froze. Harry was vaguely aware of Severus' seed bathing his belly and chest as he shuddered in helpless orgasm.
Severus and he were still locked together, kissing on the prison cell floor when the image started to fade . . . .
Harry awoke with a start, staring wildly around the room, trying to figure out where the hell he was and what was going on. There was no canopy overhead, neither green nor blue. Why he expected to see a green canopy was confusing, because he'd never had anything but blue velvet curtains after school, but for some reason, he was expecting the bedding to be green.
Harry relaxed as he recognized John Shepford's room at the Whistling Witch Inn.
"You okay?" a sleepy voice enquired from beside him. John was a light sleeper and had apparently been woken up by his sudden movement.
"I . . . yeah, I'm fine," Harry said. "Sorry to wake you."
"No problem. Bad dream?" John asked.
"Weird one," Harry said.
"You sure you're all right?" John checked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Go back to sleep."
"Okay. Let me know if you wanna . . . you know," John said, snuggling back into his pillow.
Harry smiled because the man was already asleep again. He watched that dark head turn on the stark white pillowcase. He remembered carding his fingers through long, dark hair in his dream, but it hadn't been John's hair. It had been Severus'.
What a weird dream! It had started out looking like it would be one of his usual night terrors, but then it had taken an abrupt turn in the opposite direction. He'd had erotic dreams about people he worked with once in a while in the past, but nothing like that, and certainly not about Severus. Every aspect of it had felt so real, from that first passionate kiss to that long, slow loving. Who would have thought Severus Snape could kiss like that, he thought with a smile.
Realizing that it wasn't exactly proper for him to be having erotic fantasies about a friend who'd recently been brutally raped, his smile faltered. Well, it wasn't like he'd crafted the dream to order. His subconscious had just spewed it out like it had every other dream in his life. But, even though he'd had no control over it, he found he couldn't stop thinking about the scene his subconscious had just offered up.
Dreams were supposed to mean something. Did this dream mean he secretly desired Severus? The idea was simply too absurd to contemplate. Severus and him? And yet . . . .
Unable to stop himself, Harry went over the details. The only dreams that had ever been that realistic had been his night terrors, but they never ended well. Thinking about it, he realized that tonight's dream had followed the exact pattern his night terrors had, until the point where Severus had shown up and made love to him. That was where the entire feel of the dream had changed.
What had Severus been doing in the middle of one of his nightmares?
Well, it was just a dream. Avoiding the wet spot on the sheet beside his left hip, Harry settled back under the covers. He closed his eyes, his mind still puzzling over Severus' disturbingly erotic presence in what should have been a horrible nightmare.
On the verge of sleep, he swore he heard Severus' voice saying, I wouldn't presume to insert myself into . . . so permanent a situation. If in the future you were to grow disenchanted with my charms, you would no doubt find it unpleasant for me to be so deeply embedded in your erotic dreams.
His eyes snapped open again. Severus' voice had sounded like the man was in the bed with him. Now he was having aural hallucinations to accompany his bizarre erotic dreams?
Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to forget the whole thing, but once again, his mind was having none of it. As soon as he closed his eyes, another conversation seemed to play through his head, only this time his own voice was part of it.
You must have used a spell to replace Voldemort's. How did you word your changes? Harry heard himself ask.
Severus' voice answered, I changed the scene, saying that the man you loved, the man you trusted more than any other, would enter the cell, heal you, and make passionate love to you.
There you have it, then, Harry heard himself say in an oddly contented tone.
What? Severus replied.
You know, for such a bright fellow, you can be pretty dense at times, Harry heard himself complain.
Your point is? Severus didn't quite snap.
The subconscious doesn't lie. How could I trust some fantasy you made up more than you? The man I trust more than any is the one who's been sharing my bed these last two months. That's you, Severus.
Sharing his bed? For two months? Few of his relationships lasted longer than a weekend. Even his connection with John was doomed to end tomorrow when his lover flew back to the States.
Okay, this was getting weird. The conversation playing through his head didn't feel like something he was making up. It felt like a memory. But . . . The man I trust more than any is the one who's been sharing my bed these last two months. That's you, Severus.
How could that be a memory? How could . . . .
Harry pushed at that conversation, trying to force more detail. Instead of a conversation, an image flashed through his mind. It looked like the Forbidden Forest. It was summer or maybe spring, for everything was green and blooming, and there were thousands of big black bugs blundering around the place. Severus stood in the centre of that image, set against a background of forest below an orange and magenta sunset. As he watched Severus' oddly sensual and intense face, Severus leaned in closer and closer . . . until those slender lips brushed his own.
What the hell? Was he cracking up? Did he have some kind of perverse hard-on for Severus hidden in his subconscious?
That didn't feel right. The conversation and the unnerving image he'd just seen; they once again felt more like memory than fantasy. But how could that be? How could he be remembering having sex with someone he was merely friends with?
Concentrating all his will on that image of the forest, Harry tried to push for more . . . only, he banged up against the mental equivalent of a stone wall. He followed the conversation he'd remembered back to the same obstruction. He could almost feel the hotbed of memories and feelings seething on the other side of that wall. As he poked at the barrier, it became clear that someone had cut off a considerable portion of his memories.
It at least explained why he had no memory of what he'd done on the weekends for the last few months. Someone had messed with his mind.
Who? How? Scared now, because that kind of manipulation was rarely benevolent, Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Merlin alone knew what was hiding behind that wall.
Gathering his power, he pushed at the obstruction. It took a surprising level of energy to topple it, which told him that whoever had created the mental block, had been considerably powerful.
Harry gasped as the roadblock in his mind crumbled and a million conflicting thoughts and emotions tumbled into his being. For a horrible moment, he teetered on the edge of insanity, as two dual sets of realities tried to cohabitate in the same part of his mind. But then those blocked off memories slid into their proper place like a foot into a custom-made boot, and he knew exactly what had happened.
SEVERUS.
The name shrieked through his being. His love and an equally sharp sense of betrayal roared through him. He remembered everything, from their first kiss in the Forbidden Forest in early November to the night he'd begged Severus to remove the memory that made it impossible for them to be together.
Severus hadn't simply removed that memory. He'd walled off their entire affair. The skill it had taken to accomplish that feat was amazing, for Severus had had to pick and choose what he isolated. The fact that he would actually do it was even more unbelievable.
He'd trusted Severus with everything he was, and Severus had . . . . How could he? Who could do that to someone who loved them?
The hottest fury he'd ever experienced blazed through him as Harry slid from the bed.
"Harry?" John's sleepy voice called while Harry was donning his clothes. "What's going on?"
Harry looked over at the sleepy man in the bed he'd just vacated and froze. He couldn't just storm out on John without an explanation. None of this was John's fault.
"I'm sorry. I have to get back to Hogwarts," Harry said.
"What's happened?"
About to say 'nothing', Harry took a deep breath. John deserved the truth. The man had been a good friend to him, no matter how short their acquaintance. But, how to explain any of this to a Muggle-reared wizard who knew nothing of simple magic, let alone such arcane arts as Legilimency and Occlumency?
Trying to keep it simple, Harry said, "That dream I had . . . it shook me up. I need to get back to the school to -"
"Make sure someone's all right?" John suggested, his eyes filled with compassion instead of the irritation Harry would have fully understood.
"Something like that," Harry agreed. "I'm really sorry about all this."
"No problem. I've had a few nightmares like that myself," John said, sitting up to watch him dress. When Harry was fully clothed, John asked in a quiet voice, "Will I see you again?"
Harry sighed. This was far more complicated than he liked his life to be. But none of it was John's fault. The man had been good to him. He couldn't just breeze out on him like so many of his own lovers had done to him. "Yes. I'll be back in the morning to take you to the airport like we planned. Once again, I'm -"
"Sorry. I get it. Go on. I'll see you tomorrow," John said, lying back in the bed.
"Thanks," Harry said, softly slipping from the room.
He made his way down the creaky old stairs to the inn's common room as quietly as possible. The Whistling Witch was on the floo network. He was so angry that he would have apparated straight to Severus' chambers, only he was reluctant to make a habit of forcing Hogwarts' wards, unless it was a life or death crisis.
Despite the unholy hour, there was still a small fire flickering in the hearth. Harry took down the jar of floo powder that sat on the mantle, clearly enunciated, "Severus Snape's chambers, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding, Scotland," and stepped into the resulting flare of green fire.
It was after two on a Sunday morning. Severus normally would have been in bed for hours by now, but since his abduction, he'd been sleeping as irregularly as Harry used to before Severus fixed his dreams.
Harry wasn't even surprised to find the man in his sitting room when he stepped out of Severus' hearth.
Severus was fully dressed, including his robes. He was sitting in the wingback chair nearest the hearth, just staring into the flames. He blinked as Harry materialized.
"You son of a bitch!" Harry shouted as he took in those unsurprised features. It was clear from Severus' expression that he knew exactly why he was here. "How could you?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Severus employed the sarcasm that was as much a part of his character as his dark, stringy hair.
"Don't!" Harry warned. "Don't you dare joke about this! I trusted you with everything I was and you . . . you . . . ."
"Betrayed that trust," Severus said in such a calm tone that Harry thought he might actually blast the man with a curse. "I did warn you from the start that it was unwise to trust a Slytherin."
"Don't you dare try to bring house politics into this. This has to do with you and me. You bastard! How could you do this to me?" Harry demanded, staring at that chalky white face, trying to understand why Severus would have done this. He was so furious, he could barely think. The only person he could ever remember being angrier at in his life was Burke when he'd seen what the fiend had done to Severus.
"You did tell me to remove anything that disturbed me," Severus reminded. He was no longer using his sarcastic tone. Instead, he was watching him closely, as if waiting for a major explosion.
The reminder of how much he'd trusted this sick bastard drove him right over the edge.
Harry was moving before he even realized what he was doing. His hand bunching in the front of Severus' robes and jacket, he hauled Severus out of his chair. Vaguely, he was aware of several of the buttons on Severus' jacket popping off and falling to the floor as he shoved Severus up against the wall beside the hearth.
Due to their disparity in heights, trying to intimidate Severus this way wasn't as effective as it would have been with someone shorter than him, for Harry had to look up to meet Severus' eyes.
The move hadn't exactly been planned out. Now that Harry was here pressing his front against Severus to hold him pinned to the wall, he hadn't a clue as to what he was going to do. His fury was unmanageable. He wanted to strike out, to hurt as he'd been hurt. But he didn't dare vent this wildfire blazing through him.
They stared at each other in the sudden silence, the only sound that of their laboured breathing, and the shifting of air currents as Harry's anger-fuelled magic seethed around them, searching for a target.
Harry's nerves were stretched to the breaking. He didn't know what he wanted from Severus now. It felt like Severus had killed everything that had ever been between them. He couldn't have felt more betrayed if Ron had sold him to Voldemort for money when they were in school.
