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sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Three: -Does being a good guy mean you also have to be a nice guy? Draco is about to find out. Companionable silences and fist fights are a good way to hide deeper emotions.
Warning: This part contains mild violence, explicit sex between men, confusion about sex (not non-con really!) and as you can guess, angst.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
Before sitting on the couch next to Draco Malfoy, Snape placed a large bowl of chocolate on the table. He had the feeling they were going to need the sugar rush soon, all of them.
"Do you think there'll be an exam later on?" Ron whispered loud enough for everyone to hear and then looked uncomfortable as he realized his quiet question hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought.
It made Snape shake his head slightly. "No, Mr. Weasley. There will be no exams later on."
The war would measure the survival skills hard enough; those who didn't die, passed.
Harry squared his shoulders as if he was steeling himself against something unpleasant and added, "We can't really practice defense here without someone noticing the Dark Magic used. Don't really want the Ministry or the Death Eaters here, do we?"
In Snape's opinion, both would be less than desirable.
No matter how he'd tried to plan for a lesson, he couldn't even pretend that he was teaching these idiots Defense Against Dark Arts. If he were, he wouldn't allow Harry Potter in his bed. He was simply going to try to start conversations that would hopefully keep more people alive.
"We are at war." At least that should be obvious by now. Then again from the startled look on both Malfoy and Weasley, maybe not. Snape took a deep breath. This would take longer than he'd thought. "Even if we can't practice defense, you should get used to the idea."
He paused again to let Weasley fidget and cast questioning looks at Harry.
As a teacher, Snape was usually impatient and curt, but he did know his subject. Be it first year potions with children gawking at the dragon scales and making faces at the newt intestines or advanced potions with various poisonous and corrosive potions, he always knew what to do, anticipated each and every way his students could ruin the potions and cause themselves harm.
That was what the word professional meant.
Potions were his true calling, his passion for knowledge and the art of brewing driving him on. It wasn't the only thing he excelled in; over the years he'd got quite good at recognizing various Dark Arts and his survival instinct had demanded that he concentrate on every possible means of controlling them and finding some kind of defense against them.
He was quite good at defending himself, and he'd been a teacher for decades. Why, then, was it almost impossible to actually lecture about the dark things waiting in the future?
"We've done this before, Ron."
It was actually surprising to hear Harry say that so calmly. Snape knew exactly how much Harry wanted to protect his friend, and had thought he'd just sit there in silence and listen.
Casting a confused look at his friend, Ron managed a weak, "Huh?"
"The Order meetings. This isn't different from them. We gather together and talk about the things that matter." Harry looked at Snape for the first time and nodded slightly.
Snape knew exactly where he should start. "There are many things we need to talk about, but I do believe the main issue we need to deal with is a probable Death Eater attack. It doesn't matter if you want to fight the Dark Lord's cohorts or not. You should at least learn how to survive encountering them."
The last bit was obviously aimed at Malfoy.
Before anyone could actually say anything to that, Snape went on, calmly recounting a basic raid on a selected target; beginning with the Apparating and going towards the moment someone sent the Mordsmorde to shine in the night sky.
Snape hated it.
No matter how Lupin's self satisfied smile and Black's witless stare annoyed him whenever they had gathered in Albus' rooms to discuss about things that went on in their world, at least those two knew exactly what they were dealing with. Snape could see by the way Weasley was squirming that the boy had absolutely no idea of what it really was to fight in the war. Malfoy's shocked expression wasn't at all better.
It made his gut clench, yanking away the pretense of being a simple teacher and tearing away the illusion of detachment.
Recounting history would be easy, but pointless. They all knew about the way Voldemort had raised to power the first time. The story of the Order would be interesting, but not really helpful at the moment. Anything beyond purely theoretic was personal.
Snape knew that nothing he could say would shock Harry, whose expression was still calm, but the green eyes were full of the all too acute knowledge of all the horrors, just like his own. There was nothing he could really teach Harry about the war. Their long talks back in Hogwarts had shown him that the Gryffindor wasn't nearly as empty headed as he seemed to be.
Listening to Harry, muttering a few words between his rambling or confirming his thoughts wasn't intrusive. The mere idea of trying to make Weasley and Malfoy understand things felt like Snape was forced to show things about himself, and as always, such a feeling made him irritated.
He had to wonder if his incapability of dispassionate approach on the subject was why Albus had never considered him to be a good choice to teach DADA.
"I never thought that deciding between what was easy and what was right would mean a decision between doing nothing and killing," Harry muttered after Snape had snapped his mouth shut. The very accurate description of a Death Eater attack awakened too many memories. "But you know... Sometimes you have no choice."
Ron wanted to argue that, but for once he managed to stay quiet. It wasn't just because of the obvious rage burning in Snape's eyes, but the weary tone in Harry's voice.
Recognizing his own words, Snape made an agreeing sound, but didn't say anything. He could well see that both Weasley and Malfoy were having problems with the mere idea of a real fight, and wasn't going to make things easier on them by changing the subject. Picking up the last bit of chocolate from the bowl, he bid them good night and wasn't surprised when no one argued.
He did remain in the living room for a while, feeling hollow.
For once, Ron didn't try to make any comments to either Harry or Malfoy as they took turns in the outhouse and then went to bed. He wasn't sure he'd actually manage with words even if he tried. Crawling into bed was a relief, and he squeezed his eyes shut as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Harry on the other hand lay staring at the wall for a long time before sleep finally claimed him.
Everything was dark and beautiful, so quiet and peaceful it was almost unreal. The slight sliver of the waxing moon low on the sky, barely illuminating the landscape.
There was a familiar feeling about the place, reminding of home. A safe place with good people; a house full of laughter and love.
Happy memories, of warm summer days spent out in the yard. Lazy afternoons, when lying on the grass watching the clouds was absolutely the best thing in the whole world. Home made apple pie served with ice cream as they all gathered in the kitchen after the sun went down.
Leaving was always difficult, no matter how one was used to such happiness coming to an end. Coming back was always a wonder. Such a simple place for simple joys, where one could forget all about the complications of the world.
Yes. There it was; the Burrow.
No sound could be heard at the moment. All the animals seemed to be asleep, the garden gnomes hiding somewhere behind the bushes. Even the Burrow itself seemed to be sleeping, shrouding its inhabitants in dreams.
Wind was blowing gently, swinging branches, making shadows dance. It was almost as if the world was moving slowly around the old house. Darkness surrounding it, embracing it. Darkness that would chase away all light.
The silence was abruptly broken by a yell. Words of a charm or a curse that sounded surprisingly familiar.
Somewhere in the distance a dog howled, the sound heartbreakingly sad. It was as if all the sorrow of the world was contained in that one piercing wail.
Then a glowing green symbol shot up to the sky, an emerald skull with a snake coming out of its mouth like a tongue, hanging above the small cottage and twisting as it revealed hooded figures running closer...
"No!" Harry sat up, his own scream waking him. His scar hurt worse than in years.
The images from the dream still sharp in his mind, he curled into a ball, trying to hide from everything. Strong hands were taking that comfort away from him, pulling the covers off of him, forcing him to turn around. "Potter? Are you hurt? Damn it! What is it?" The words were frantic, but the voice astonishingly calm.
Harry opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He could only see a pale blob surrounded by wisps of black something, but he would have recognized the voice anywhere. "The Burrow! Dark Mark over the Burrow! They're killing Weasleys." The words came out with a wail, as their meaning really started sinking in.
"Calm down." The hands were now on Harry's face, pushing his hair to the side and away from his eyes. "Breathe."
How could he calm down? How could anyone ever just calm down and breathe again?
"What's going on in here?" Blurry with sleep, but still recognizable voice drifted from the direction of the doorway.
Harry scrambled towards the nightstand and grabbed his glasses. Now he could see the worried looks on Snape and Malfoy. He was so disoriented, he didn't even wonder what they were doing in his room. "I had a dream. And my scar is burning. The Death Eaters are attacking the Burrow. They're..." He didn't get any farther. His throat simply closed and he had to fight against choking.
A shocked silence followed his words.
He felt unreal, lost. The images were so vivid in his mind as if he'd witnessed the killings himself, standing on the small hill and watching the Death Eaters kill everyone. His hands were shaking, and he didn't even have the energy to feel amazement when two pale ink stained hands grabbed his and held tight.
Draco couldn't help it. He stepped closer to Harry, his hand moving slowly towards the scar that was burning angry red. "It could have been just a dream..."
Slapping the hand away, Harry snarled. "You don't know what they're doing to his family, Malfoy!" Killing. Killing, killing, killing... They were killing Ron's mom and dad. Killing Mrs. Weasley, who had held him when he'd been so scared. Killing Mr. Weasley who had been overjoyed every time he'd seen Harry, not because he was the famous Harry Potter, but because he could help him understand his beloved plugs. Bill with his long hair, earring and quick smile. Charlie who was so damn brave, working with the most dangerous creatures on earth. Perfect Percy. Fred and George, twins with one warped soul, and Ginny... "You don't know."
No matter what Snape had said the previous evening, there was no way anyone who hadn't been there and seen it happen could have any idea of what it was like.
"I do know." It was Snape, his usually pale complexion now waxy white. "I do remember what it was like." He was looking from Draco to Harry, his eyes looking more dead than ever.
Harry felt like throwing up.
"And I don't think they're killing the Weasleys. It's probably just a nightmare. I wouldn't be surprised if you have more of those after the things we talked about."
Snape should have expected this to happen. No amount of chocolate could stop the memories from emerging from where they had been buried.
It was enough to keep all of them from ever having a good night's sleep again.
Shaking his head, Harry muttered, "It felt so real..."
"Then it's probably a warning." Ignoring the way the hands he held tightened their grip, Snape kept his gaze on Harry's. "They want you to think they're killing your friends, so you would do something rash."
More than anything, Harry wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe Snape would never lie to him, would never coddle him, but he wasn't sure it applied to a moment like this. "Really?" Helpless pleading in his eyes.
Snape nodded, never breaking the eye contact. "If they were killing the Weasleys, I would know."
A soft sob escaped Harry, the sound between complete desperation and relief. "You would?" His mind was still foggy after the dream, but he did know what Snape meant by that. He turned his gaze to his lap, where his hands were still holding Snape's. As always, the wiry arms were covered with the long sleeves of his night robes. "You would."
"Yes. I would know." Ignoring Malfoy's presence, Snape nodded.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He needed to think rationally and drive the foggy dreamworld away from his mind. For the first time he realized that Ron was nowhere in sight. Looking frantically around, he asked, "Where's Ron?"
"I think he went to the outhouse." Strangely, Draco's voice was bored. "Well, this will be a cheerful thing for him to hear when he comes back."
"No!" Harry knew exactly what Ron's reaction would be if he told him. "Maybe it was just a dream. Like Snape said." He wasn't sure he believed it, but right now it didn't matter what he believed. It was still about two weeks till the end of the spring term. They could not leave the cottage. If they told Ron, he'd go mad. "We can't tell Ron anything about this!"
Snape had to agree. "I do believe you're right. So none of us will mention this to Mr. Weasley." He cast a stern look at Draco, not at all surprised to see that there was no smirk on his face. He had clearly underestimated the boy. He was much better at manipulating people than he gave him credit for.
"Good!" Relaxing slightly, Harry still didn't let go of Snape's hands. His heart was pounding, the terror just below the surface. It had probably been just a dream, but it had felt so real.
After years of nightmares induced by very real events, he couldn't let go of the fear easily, but he trusted Snape was telling him the truth.
Downstairs, a door banged shut and a moment later the loud sound of footsteps echoed on the staircase. Harry fought to calm his expression before Ron got there. He didn't have time to think of an excuse for why he had the two Slytherins in their room, but hoped Snape would think of something.
Fast.
Ron stepped into the room, freezing as he saw the people in there. He looked worriedly at the scene before him. What the hell were Snape and Malfoy doing in their room? He pointedly ignored the way Snape was holding Harry's hands. "What's going on here?"
"Potter here decided to wake the whole house up with some stupid nightmare." Once again, the scorn in Draco's voice was perfect. "Squealed like a stuck pig."
Never before had Harry felt such gratitude towards the Slytherin sneakiness. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"Are you all right?" Ron pushed past Malfoy, not even bothering to glare. He was familiar with Harry's nightmares after sharing the dormitory with him for all these years. There had been times when he'd woken up almost every night, flailing and screaming.
Harry forced a smile on his lips. "I'm fine." His hands clenched in Snape's grip, betraying him. "It's nothing, really. Just... You know?" Once again he was glad Ron had never asked him to explain his nightmares. He didn't have the energy to explain anything now.
"Yeah." It was always a bit weird to nod at Harry when he said that, since Ron had absolutely no idea what he saw or felt, but he nodded anyway. Every time. "Okay."
There was a moment of silence. Draco tried not to stare at Harry, who was looking paler than usual. Next to him, Ron was definitely staring at Snape, who was still sitting on Harry's bed, holding his hands. It was the most unreal thing Ron had ever seen in his life, and considering all the things he'd seen during his years in Hogwarts he was definitely freaking out now.
"I assume we can now get more sleep." Letting go of Harry, Snape sat up. "Unless you need something. A sleeping potion perhaps?" He would have to dose it carefully, otherwise Harry would be sleeping till noon.
Harry shook his head slightly. "No thank you. I'm fine." He didn't want to take anything. He never did after a nightmare. There had been times the dreams had been so frequent he would have spent months in a drugged haze. "I'm sorry I woke you all up."
The only reply was a soft snort. Snape cast one more look at him, and then turned to walk out of the room, herding Draco Malfoy in front of him. He pushed the door shut behind them.
Finding he could breathe more easily now, Ron let out a deep breath and padded to his bed. "Can we turn the lights out?"
"Of course. Nox." Harry had never been afraid of the dark, and once again he found the lack of light calming. He pulled the covers tighter around him, suddenly cold. "Sorry about that."
He didn't know why he was apologizing. He hadn't woken Ron up. Still remembering the images of his dream, he stared into the darkness, hoping it had been just a figment of his twisted imagination.
"It's okay." A yawn broke Ron's words. He was still exhausted, and it was better to concentrate on being tired than in seeing Snape in their room. If he weren't this tired, he'd probably feel a lot more nauseated by the whole thing. "Night."
"Good night, Ron."
Harry put his glasses on the night stand before lying back down. He listened to Ron fidget for a moment before finding a better position. It was good to concentrate on the sound. Then it was quiet again. No sounds in the room.
He didn't want to close his eyes; didn't feel at all sleepy. He never did after a nightmare.
There had been so many awful nights, ever since his first year at Hogwarts. Dreaming of people chasing him, dark robed figures everywhere. Flashes of things really happening, memories of things past. Living through Cedric's death over and over again in dreams.
Sometimes Harry almost missed the cupboard. Cramped and a bit smelly with spiders on the wall and sawdust falling from the ceiling, it had still been a peaceful resting place. Back then, sleep had been a relief from reality. Now there didn't seem to be any such relief. Life was usually painful, and that pain never let go, following him into his dreams.
It was worst when he couldn't tell the difference between a nightmare and one of those dreams that simply reflected reality. He was so damn tired of being connected to Voldemort. Tired of having to witness things he and his followers did.
He hated when he couldn't do a thing about it. Seeing those horrible images usually meant that they were already happening. There was no way to prevent them.
Ron turned to his side, his breathing evening. Harry smiled slightly, glad that he could take this so easily. It had always been a part of their friendship; he'd never felt like he should burden Ron with his nightmares, and liked the way he seemed to still accept that. There were probably hours before dawn, and he knew Ron would fall asleep soon, snoring away the night before waking up all rested and cheery.
Staring at the damn rafters was getting really annoying, even though he couldn't really see anything in the darkness. Even after all these years of insomnia and nightmares, Harry found the nights as tedious and long as ever. He simply lay here, trying not to think too hard about anything.
Of course it rarely helped. The silence usually invited thoughts in, making it impossible to relax.
Harry sighed, knowing this wasn't going to work. It never did. He'd realized that a long time ago, so it was pretty silly for him to even try now. That was why he'd wandered around the castle in the past. That was what had made him seek for company.
He didn't really want to bother Snape because of this, not when things weren't uncomplicated anymore. But it would be idiotic to simply stay here and fret about the nightmare.
Harry sat up slowly, reaching out for his glasses after a moment of hesitation and wondered why his mind was always making everything so damn complicating. There was nothing keeping him up here, away from Snape.
Moving quietly, he pushed the covers back and stood up, shivering as his toes hit the cold floor but trying to make as little sound as possible. He didn't want to wake Ron up.
"Where are you going?" Sounding a bit groggy, Ron lifted his head and stared into the darkness. He could see Harry standing by the door. "Are you all right?"
"Damn, you scared me!" Harry exclaimed, jumping a little. He'd been convinced Ron was asleep. "Um... I'm fine. Just... Not sleepy. I think I'll just go and... you know." He was pretty sure Ron didn't want to know.
"Oh." Sounding a bit disgusted, Ron mumbled, "Okay." He lay down again, pulling the covers up. It was late, and he was really too tired to even think about the creepiness of Snape holding Harry's hands.
For a moment he wondered if he should try to stay up and talk to Harry, but he wasn't really up to it. Maybe later.
Harry didn't say anything more. He quietly opened the door and then sneaked out.
It was dark, but he found his way to the stairs easily. He moved quietly , not wanting to draw any attention. He didn't know whether Malfoy was awake or not, but he knew he didn't want to face him right now. It was pretty weird to actually feel grateful to the blond Slytherin for his quick intelligence and the sneer that seemed to be a constant expression.
He had no idea why Malfoy had been so cooperative, but was glad for it anyway. It was probably because of Snape. Harry had never understood the Slytherin adage of loyalty before seeing how those two acted together.
No, he wasn't jealous. He could so clearly see that Snape felt it was his duty to protect Malfoy. Acting as the Head of his House really meant something to Snape. It was different between the two of them; what they shared was more personal.
Moving across the small hallway, Harry smiled. He still had no idea what this thing with Snape was about, knew no definition they could both agree on, but it didn't matter. He wasn't idiotic enough to force the issue. Whatever they had was fine by him and he was not going to drive Snape away by babbling about things like friendship. He didn't need to babble about something that was quite clear to him already.
The door to Snape's room was slightly ajar. It was somehow warming. Clearly, Snape was expecting him. Not bothering to even pause at the doorway, Harry stepped in. "Hi."
"Good morning, Potter." Snape looked up from a book he'd been staring at with unseeing eyes. "Even though I don't believe that 'morning' is the appropriate word."
"I guess not." It was still dark, and the clock on Snape's wall did indicate it was 'night'. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly towards the book he held. "Nothing important. Close the door and sit down. It's too early to be hovering there like that." He gestured at the bed.
The words brought up a smile on Harry's lips. He swung the door shut behind him and then walked to the bed. The covers were drawn to the side, and he hesitated for just a brief moment before crawling there.
His limbs felt heavy, the feeling unlike the weight that had seemed to crash down on him upstairs. He didn't know why.
Placing the book down on the table, Snape stood there with his back at Harry for some time. Then he glanced over his shoulder, a clear question in his eyes.
Whatever he saw didn't make him come any closer. Instead, he grabbed a pouch and started to work on something. Not saying a word.
Harry curled on the bed, snuggling against the sheets.
The light didn't disturb him; not even the flash of flames when Snape lit up the fireplace. He watched drowsily as Snape moved around the room, collecting items for a potion. He didn't know what he was making, and didn't really care. The scents filling the room were comforting, the sounds achingly familiar.
Voice quiet, Harry muttered, "I don't want to talk about the war anymore." He didn't even realize he was going to say something until the words were already out.
"Why?" There didn't seem to be any censor in Snape's question.
"Because..." Harry didn't have the proper words to describe the need to shut away all the horrors for just a little while longer. He had the fleeting thought it was cowardice, but right now he needed this time when the biggest issues in his life were chores and deciding just how much time he could spend alone with Snape. "Because I don't really need to."
Snape stood still for a while, apparently lost in thoughts.
"I won't forget what it'll be like when we go back even if we don't talk about it. I just want to have this..." It was too big a thing to describe, so Harry repeated it, this time more firmly. "I want to have this."
Hearing all the unsaid things anyway, Snape turned around. He wanted to argue on principle and point out that it wasn't just about Harry and his needs, but he couldn't say a thing. Explaining even the simplest things to Malfoy and Weasley had not been easy, and no matter how a part of him thought it was his duty, Snape didn't want to spend another evening like that.
Reality never went away. Both he and Harry knew it, and these weeks wouldn't change a thing.
He could see from the look in Harry's eyes that he wasn't far from begging, and before that could happen, he nodded curtly. "I doubt there is anything new I can tell you about the war anyway." Surprisingly it didn't feel like giving up after all.
Harry's smile was radiant. "Thank you." Not talking about the war wouldn't take the horrors away, but it meant he didn't have to be anything but himself for a little while longer.
"You don't have to thank me, Potter," Snape snapped, disgusted by the gratitude he could feel as well. "Not on this."
He was not going to have this discussion with anyone.
Casting a half hearted glare at Harry who was still smiling at him, he turned back to the cauldron and the quiet comfort of simple work.
Not tired enough to actually fall asleep, Harry simply lay there and watched Snape work.
