Harry couldn't fathom how much it was taking for Severus to try to speak about these issues. "I took you by surprise. It's only natural that you'd react that way."
"There's nothing 'natural' about it," Severus denied. "I don't know . . . how to get past that reaction."
"Time will probably help," Harry said. "And maybe we can take baby steps to ease past it."
"Baby steps?" Severus echoed.
"Well, you seem okay when I . . . hold you before we fall asleep," Harry pointed out, hoping that his speaking about it wouldn't endanger the privilege. "I mean, you freeze up when I first touch you, but you seem to be okay after a few minutes."
Severus seemed to consider his words. "Your magic usually surrounds me at that point. It is very . . . comforting."
Harry nodded. "I don't think that enveloping you in my power every time I touch you is the way to go, though. Do you?"
Severus gave a negative shake of his head. His eyes looked bleak and lost.
"What if we agree that sex isn't on the program anytime in the immediate future? Do you think it would help if you know I'm not . . . after that?"
"I knew you weren't after that before," Severus said, seeming even more depressed.
That being the last thing he wanted, Harry quickly said, "Yes, but you weren't expecting me to kiss you like that. Of course, you were shocked. I was thinking if we took things really slow, with the understanding that nothing would come of it, that maybe you could get used to being physical with me again. If you don't think you're ready to try it yet, that's fine, too. There's no pressure here. It's just a suggestion."
Harry held his breath as Severus considered his idea. He wasn't a psychiatrist. He had no idea if this would help or hinder Severus' progress, but it seemed that the situation might never change if they didn't work on the problem
Severus seemed to come to the same conclusion, for he gave a quiet, "What did you have in mind?"
Trying to control the burst of euphoria that came from Severus' willingness to try, Harry said, "I thought that when we were alone like this, that maybe we could . . . . " Even now it was hard to ask for a cuddle. But that was what he was considering, so, finally, he managed, ". . . . sit close and hug?"
"Do you really think it will help?" Severus asked.
"I don't know. If it doesn't . . . exacerbate the problem, it probably won't hurt. Do you want to try?"
In answer, Severus rose to his feet and sat back down on the log, leaving next to no space between them.
The discrepancy in their heights made trying to lay his arm across Severus' shoulders a ludicrous proposition, so Harry slipped his right arm loosely around Severus' waist.
Even with an inch between them, he could feel how Severus' whole body seemed to stiffen with tension.
"Is that too much?" Harry checked. From his end, it felt incredible.
"No. It's just . . . ."
"Yes?" Harry encouraged, giving Severus a light squeeze.
"This must be incredibly tedious for you."
His heart almost breaking at those self-conscious words, he swiftly offered, "There's nothing tedious about it. Look at me." When those dark eyes settled hesitantly upon his face, Harry asked, "Do I look bored or put upon?"
Harry tried to make sure that everything he was feeling showed.
Slowly, the worry tightening Severus' features was replaced by something that looked like wonder.
Their gazes locked. Neither of them seemed able to look away. The pull towards Severus was nearly irresistible.
To his amazement, Harry saw Severus' face begin to lower towards him. He held his breath, waiting for reality to intrude and for Severus to halt the gesture. But Severus seemed as transfixed by his eyes as Harry was by his.
Severus' hands braced themselves on his shoulders, and then those thin, dry lips covered his own.
Harry liquefied. All resistance crumbled from his mouth as he kissed back for all he was worth. It was sheer heaven, even more wonderful than the kiss they'd shared at the edge of the woods.
His lips parted at the first swipe of Severus' tongue. That long-missed taste flooded him, filling his whole being. It was beyond wonderful. On a mental level, Harry knew it was just a kiss, that in the cosmic scheme of the universe, it was fairly insignificant, but it felt like it was transforming his whole world.
Instinct guiding him, he pressed closer to Severus, and felt the by now familiar freeze as their bodies crushed together. His better sense prevailing, Harry forced himself to pull back.
Severus' fingers clenched at his shoulders, holding him where he was, refusing to allow him to put any space between them. Severus' mouth wasn't moving against his with the same fervour it had moments ago, but he wasn't pulling away.
Harry's wrists were draped over Severus' shoulders, touching his neck. He could feel the panicked race of Severus' pulse where their skin touched. But Severus still seemed intent on not withdrawing.
Harry slipped his right hand around Severus and started rubbing his back in reassuring circles, hoping to ease him through whatever was going on.
Finally, Severus drew back, releasing a shaky-sounding breath.
Harry could sympathize. His own heart was racing like a hippogriff in flight and all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the Forbidden Forest.
Stunned by Severus' temerity, he could only stare at Severus' equally flustered-looking face. He could count on one hand the number of times Severus had initiated a kiss when they were lovers. For him to do so now was . . . earth-shaking.
"Like I said, still my miracle," Harry said when he could manage speech.
A totally engaging flush tinted Severus' cheeks. Those dark eyes shied away from his. Obviously, that kiss had been a bit more than Severus had intended.
Not entirely sure what he should do now, Harry slipped his arm around Severus' waist again and leaned a bit of his weight against him.
After a moment, Severus' arm settled across his shoulders.
Not saying anything, they just sat there with this newfound closeness thrumming between them, watching the creek water rush past. It might be a pale shadow of the passion they used to share, but right now, this simple contact was the sweetest gift Harry could imagine.
*~*~*
Severus woke with a start. Since Harry had stopped enveloping him in his magic at night, he'd often wake in something of a panic. The nightmares weren't troubling him like they had last month, but those moments between sleep and waking were often rife with anxiety as he tried to determine where he was and what was happening.
Breathing out a deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes. The green velvet canopy overhead instantly told him he was in his own room, safe in his own bed.
His bed wasn't icy cold as it had been since January.
Severus' gaze turned to take in the messy tangle of black hair on the pillow beside him. The lightning bolt scar was peeking out from between two locks of Harry's hair. Harry was still deep asleep, half on top of him.
The call of nature pressing upon him, Severus carefully slipped out from beneath Harry. He spared a glance at the bed as he left it, as ever, warmed by the sight of Harry lying there.
Quickly accomplishing his business in the cold dampness of a dungeon morning, he returned to bed.
Harry had moved while he was gone. He was now flat on his back in the middle of the bed.
Severus found himself captured by the sight before him. Harry was wearing a pair of Muggle pyjamas, a cool green that nearly matched the colour of his eyes. Those eyes were closed now, his face lax with sleep as he lay there in the centre of Severus' enormous bed, tangled in crisp white sheets and a brown blanket. Taking in those sleeping features, he was struck by Harry's beauty, moved in a way he hadn't been in months. Oh, he'd known Harry was handsome. The trim, athletic body, expressive face, and gentle eyes were hard to ignore. The man was extraordinarily attractive, in a strangely unassuming way. But since January, Severus had only recognized these facts on a mental level, if he noticed them at all. Lost in his misery, he'd rarely been aware of anything other than the hell he was enduring.
But now, after more than a month of the peaceful nights Harry's magic had granted him, that hell wasn't nearly as oppressive. He still had bad moments. The sound of dripping water was still enough to send him into a cold sweat and there were times when the sight of the pink-skinned flesh of his right hand stopped him cold with the knowledge of why its skin wasn't yellowed like his left hand, but, on the whole, he was doing better.
This was the first time that he'd looked at Harry and felt something stir inside him. It wasn't the same fierce longing that the sight of that attractive body used to inspire, but it was there, and it was real, and it was something Severus had feared he would never feel again.
He savoured the sweet tingling, allowing the fragile warmth to fill him. Seeing Harry laid out there, all warm and rumpled with sleep, with that achingly innocent expression on his face, made him long to return to that bed and . . . touch him.
The impulse frightened him as much as it excited him. This tentative desire made him feel as if he were made of glass, as if the slightest tremor would shatter him.
On a mental level, he knew he was in absolutely no danger from Harry. He'd never known that the type of tender care Harry had lavished upon him these last weeks was even possible. The unfaltering patience, the gentleness, the safe space Harry had created for him, all of these made Severus know that were he to follow through on the impulse to touch, it would go no further than he was ready for it to progress.
He knew that what Harry and he had shared had nothing to do with what Burke had done to him. In all the time he'd been with Harry, there hadn't been a single instance of force or violence. Even when Harry had been furious with him for altering his memories, the most violent gesture Harry had managed was pushing him up against a wall. For all that Harry had the power to take anything he wanted, it was not in his nature to do so. Severus knew this. He'd never had faith in anything the way he did in this man's character.
But, despite his utter certainty that Harry would never harm him, emotionally, he was absolutely terrified by the thought of moving to that bed and reaching out to touch his lover.
Lover. He hadn't thought of Harry that way in a long time. After the mistake he'd made on the quidditch pitch in February, Severus had been convinced that he'd never be this close to Harry again, but, against all odds and better sense, Harry had forgiven him. If he'd had three wishes granted to him, that would have been the first. The ability to make love with Harry again would be the next. More than anything, he wanted to somehow find the courage to overcome what had been done to him.
His conscience kept hounding him, reminding him how unfair this setup was to Harry.
Harry was young and virile. He deserved a lover who would burn for him, the way Severus used to. He remembered how Harry used to make him feel. There wasn't a night they were together that he hadn't wanted Harry inside him . . . but those memories seemed alien and strange now. The thought of getting naked with someone, even his gentle, loving Harry, of letting another man touch and enter him, made his whole body cringe with revulsion. The idea of penetration always brought him right back to that torture chamber and the horrible things he'd endured there. And, no amount of knowing that Harry would never partake of such actions could get him past the memory his body had of those rapes.
Severus bit his lower lip as he struggled to master his fear. He could almost feel that tender desire dying on him, leaving him nothing but cold and lifeless flesh. Harry deserved better than this. Staring at Harry's face, he clung to that fleeting yearning, stoking it with the memory of every tender kiss Harry had given him these past few weeks.
This man loved him. He didn't understand the emotion, much less how Harry could still feel these things for him, but not even his doubting mind could question Harry's feelings for him. That precious gift deserved something in return, something more than a hug and the occasional chaste kiss.
He was no coward. For Harry's sake, if not his own, he had to get past this.
Breathing deeply to still his shaking, Severus forced himself to return to the bed.
He'd worried that the jostling of the mattress would wake Harry, but Harry always slept deeply unless he was troubled by nightmares.
Severus slipped back under the covers on his side of the bed, which was dramatically smaller now that Harry had claimed the centre.
Turning on his side, Severus studied those familiar features. He remembered how he used to love to trace that lightning bolt with the tip of his tongue. He could almost taste the sweet flavour of Harry's peaches and cream skin. The thin eyebrows had a salty tinge to them, his ears an addictive bitterness, his mouth . . . .
Severus needn't look back far to recall that wonderful experience. Harry had gifted him with one of those soft, endless kisses right before they'd closed their eyes to sleep last night.
The tingle turned to a flutter as he remembered that kiss.
Giving his lips a nervous swipe, Severus leaned forward. A kiss. He could manage a kiss.
Breathing in Harry's sleepy, sweet scent, feeling the heat pouring off Harry's body the closer he got, Severus felt his jagged nerves start to relax. It was going to be okay. This was Harry. His body knew this was Harry, and Harry meant safety.
It felt almost natural to cover that sleeping mouth with his own. The initial, inevitable freeze happened, but as Harry was still dead asleep, Severus tried not to let it bother him. He just waited for his body to remember whom he was with. It took a while, but finally, the paralysing fear left his flesh.
Searching himself, he rediscovered that flicker of desire. Fanning that sputtering flame for all he was worth, Severus threw everything he felt for Harry into the kiss.
In his excitement, it was possible that he cut off Harry's air, for Harry gave a confused sounding "Hmmmm?" into the kiss a heartbeat before his eyelids snapped open.
