Chapter 63 - The Heart that Bleeds
They returned to the castle the same way they had left it, following the hidden trail along the lake to the side entrance where Dobby had been waiting for them. This time Remus was standing guard at that hidden door, staring out into the darkness anxiously as he searched for signs of movement. When he spied the three of them making their way up the path, he rushed forward to greet them.
Sirius ran forward to meet Remus, pulling him into a crushing embrace, and from his vantage point behind them, Harry could see how exhausted the werewolf looked. He imagined the man had been worried when Sirius had left to answer the Call. He couldn't help but wonder where Severus was - would he know what had happened this night? It bothered him that he was not there to greet them.
A few moments later Remus pulled Harry into a tight hug as well, saying nothing beyond a simple, "Welcome home." Smiling thankfully Harry followed all of them into the castle, relieved to once again be back on familiar ground.
"I'll walk you down to your rooms, Harry," Dumbledore said once they were safely behind the walls of Hogwarts and the side door was sealed. "I think any discussion can wait until morning. We all need to sleep. I suspect these next few days will be trying for all of us."
Gratefully beyond words, Harry just nodded. He was utterly drained. At the moment he felt as if he could sleep for a week. Despite everything that had happened, his mind felt like it was shutting off - as if he'd passed the point where he could truly think any more.
Promising to see him in the morning, Sirius and Remus headed off toward their own rooms while Harry and Dumbledore made their way down a back stairs toward the dungeons. Dumbledore left him at his own door with nothing more than a gentle squeeze to his shoulder - the old man looked exhausted as well. By the time Harry had entered his room and closed the door behind him, he thought about simply collapsing on the couch in front of the fire. The bed seemed too far away.
Sighing, he pulled off his coat and draped it over the back of the couch - no doubt the house elves would hang it up for him before he had a chance to do so. The fire was lit, warming the place, and there were a few candles here and there indicating that Severus had been here earlier. He wondered where he was now - perhaps he was still brewing potions for the infirmary?
Pushing open the door to their bedroom, he found himself freezing in shock at the sight before him. "Severus," he whispered in horror.
Severus Snape was sitting on the floor in the center of their bedroom. He was stripped down to nothing more than his trousers, even his feet bare on the cold stone floor. But it was the nasty looking dagger he was holding to his arm that held all of Harry's attention. He could see the silver strands of metal that were still wrapped around the Dark Mark upon his forearm where Dumbledore had bound it so many months ago; Severus was trying to pry the dagger beneath those metal strands to cut out the Dark Mark. Blood was welling from beneath the metal wards, dripping down his arm to pool on the stone floor. There was a wild, manic look in his eyes as he cut away at his flesh, trying to stab at the heart of the Mark beneath the wards; he was gasping in pain alternately sobbing and cursing as he fought to free himself from an impossible bond.
Harry's shock gave way instantly to panic and he rushed forward. "Severus!" he shouted, grabbing hold of the dagger and yanking it from the man's hand. He flung it across the room so that it clattered against the far wall, spraying blood as it flew. He tried to press his hands over the wound to stanch the flow of blood. There was so much blood!
"Harry!" Severus cried, grabbing hold of his arms, seeming not to notice the blood he was losing or Harry's desperate attempt to stop it. "I can't get it off, Harry! It won't come off!" There was only madness in those dark eyes, and Harry found himself sobbing in panic as he tried to wrestle against his grip to stop the blood.
"Dobby!" he shouted over Severus' frantic pleas for Harry to help him cut away the Mark. Instantly the little house elf appeared, gasping in horror when he saw what was happening. "Get me some Dittany, quickly! There should be some in his lab." He had little skill at healing charms and could only hope that Severus' own potions would close up his wound. He'd learned first hand when he'd been shot by those arrows that if the dagger was magically enchanted in someway, the potion might be useless.
Severus was trying to reach the dagger again, and Harry struggled to hold him in place so that he could not crawl across the floor to where the blade was laying. When he realized that Harry was not going to let him go, he simply summoned the blade to his hand with an impressive display of wandless magic. Harry grabbed hold of the man's wrist, holding the dagger away from his body, his other hand still pressed over the bleeding wound. He knew he was not strong enough to win a physical confrontation with the older man. Already his muscles were shaking with the strain of trying to keep that dagger away from his body.
"Severus!" he shouted, trying to catch the man's attention. "Severus, please listen to me!"
"I have to cut it off, Harry!" Severus protested in despair, and Harry suspected that had he come a moment later the man might have succeeded in hacking off his entire arm. "I have to get rid of it! It's the only way to reach you! I have to go - the bell is calling me! I have to find you!"
"Severus, I'm right here!" Harry pleaded with him. "Look at me, Severus. I'm right here. The bell is silent - listen Severus! Listen! The bell is silent!"
For a moment Severus froze, a panicked, horrified look on his face as if he could not accept what Harry was telling him, or did not truly comprehend it. In that instant, Dobby reappeared, bearing the potion Harry had asked for, and upon seeing the two of them wrestling for control of the dagger, snapped his fingers and banished the blade from the room entirely.
"The bell, Harry!" Severus' voice sounded broken as if he'd been screaming.
But Harry just shook his head. "It's silent, Severus. It's silent. Listen - it's silent."
It seemed as if something in his words reached him for the man turned his gaze inward as if trying to focus on something just out of his grasp. It gave Harry a moment to reach for the potion Dobby was holding out for him. Gripping Severus' wrist tightly in one hand, he poured the potion directly onto the wound, praying that the warding bands that protected Severus from the pain of the Mark would not interfere with the healing power of the potion. A pale green smoke rose up from the open wound, the blood frothing as the wound began to close - but it closed so slowly. Harry was certain it should be closing faster than that.
"Harry?" Severus sounded so lost but at least he was no longer actively fighting him. "I tried to reach you. I tried to follow you."
"I know Severus," Harry nodded, wanting to sooth the desperation he saw in the man's face.
"It's inside of me!" Severus hissed in horror, that frantic madness welling again in his eyes. "It's inside - wrapped around my heart, choking me, squeezing me! I tried to follow but I couldn't breathe, couldn't think!"
Harry touched his face, stroking back his dark hair. "It's over now," he whispered, something inside him breaking at the sight of the pain in the man's eyes. "Everything is alright now. Everything is going to be fine."
But Severus shook his head almost violently, his eyes burning with desperation. "They're going to take you away from me," he accused, his voice breaking. "They're going to take you away from me! They'll say we're not real! That we're a lie! I'm supposed to protect you - I can't let them take you away!"
Before Harry could form a coherent response, Severus had tugged him sharply forward so that he all but fell against the man's bare chest, and then he was being kissed with the same desperation Severus had been cutting at his arm. The man plundered his mouth, leaving him breathless and stunned. Arms wrapped like vices around his body and with a violent twist he found himself pressed to the floor, Severus on top of him, causing him to whimper in stunned disbelief as the man pressed his hips against him, grinding himself against Harry's rapidly interested body.
Severus, hands still stained with blood, tugged at his clothes, reaching up underneath his shirt to run his hands possessively up his chest. Harry gasped in shock when sharp bursts of pleasure burned through his body as those long fingers stroked over his hardened nipples - it never occurred to him that a male body could respond to such a touch, never knew his own body could feel such a sensation - like electricity sizzling through his veins. He wanted to shout in disbelief, or cry out in pleasure but Severus' mouth swallowed the sounds he made, his tongue stroking deeply, fiercely as if trying to possess him.
Terrified and excited and confused beyond comprehension, Harry couldn't stop his body from responding, any more than he could still the frantic pounding of his heart, or the dozen different voices in his head telling him a thousand different ways to react.
Nor could he stop the realization that desperate or not, aroused or not, Severus' entire body was shaking, as if the man was rapidly going into shock despite his aggressive attack. And beyond the physical sensations, he could feel Severus' magic, strong and wild, but utterly chaotic as if completely out of control. When he tore his mouth away to catch his breath, Harry saw that he'd rolled into the pool of blood which was quickly soaking into his clothes. Half his mind shuddered in horror at the realization while the other half was swamped with pleasure at the way Severus' mouth felt against his neck, teeth scraping his flesh. Dear gods, how had he not known that his earlobe was so sensitive! But no-the blood! Severus was hurt, in danger!
He waved his hand frantically at Dobby who was still standing nearby, pulling at his ears in panic. But the motion was enough for Dobby to react - he snapped his fingers and Severus was knocked away from Harry, momentarily stunned as he lay flat on his back on the floor of their bedroom.
"My potion," Harry hissed urgently to the little house elf as he scrambled to his knees so that he could lean over Severus to see if he was all right. The man's face was white as a sheet, from blood loss and shock, and his eyes were glazed as if he'd retreated somewhere into his own thoughts. His body was shaking violently as if wracked with cold despite the fact that it was warm in the room.
Dobby grabbed one of the small vials of Dreamless Sleep from Harry's nightstand and handed it to him. Moving behind him, Harry careful pulled Severus partially upright, holding him in his arms so that he rested against his chest. Yanking out the potion stopper with his teeth, he pressed the vial against Severus' pale lips.
"Drink, Severus," he whispered into the man's ear. "Please!" He saw Severus swallow convulsively, drinking down the potion without further prompting. Harry stroked his hair back from his face trying to offer some comfort.
"Harry," Severus whispered, turning his head to the side. With his back resting against Harry's chest, his body had grown limp and unresponsive. "They're going to take you from me."
"No," Harry promised him. "I promise, Severus. I promise!" Drawn like a moth to flame, craving contact, craving a connection, Harry found himself gently kissing the man's face. He kissed his faintly stubbled cheek, and then the bridge of that too crooked nose, before touching his lips to Severus' mouth. He was frightened at how cold the man's lips now felt - only moments before they had been so hot and demanding. Now it seemed as if the life had utterly drained from his body.
For a moment those dark eyes flicked upward, meeting his own gaze. "I have to find you, Harry," Severus whispered.
"I'm right here!" Harry cried, but Severus' eyes drifted shut in sleep and he didn't think the man had heard him.
For a long moment Harry just sat there, holding Severus against his body, his arms locked tightly around his bare chest. He ran one hand down Severus' arm to the coils of silver wire, trying to inspect the wound beneath the ward. He could see the Dark Mark beneath those wires, looking raw and swollen - the wound had mostly closed, though there were several areas that still oozed blood. But he was certain he'd healed the worst of it - there was only the blood loss to contend with - and the madness.
He looked down at the blood now smeared across the floor and tried to judge the amount - was it enough to put his life in danger? He didn't know enough about healing to judge - and yet he was hesitant to send for Madame Pomfrey, assuming she was even available with the other wounded in the castle. Somehow he doubted Severus would want anyone to see him like this.
"Dobby is getting a blood replenishing potion," the little elf announced and vanished again. He reappeared a moment later with another glass vial labeled with Severus' neat printing.
Surprisingly Harry trusted the elf's judgment better than he trusted his own - and in any event he knew from potions class that the potion would not hurt Severus if he did not need it. It took some doing but he managed to get one or two swallows down the man's throat. While he did so, Dobby set about cleaning up the blood. Between the two of them they managed to get a bandage pressed between Severus' damaged skin and the silver coils of metal around his arm - never had Harry been more grateful for the little elf's aid.
Exhausted, Harry tried to get Severus off the floor and into bed. He finally had to pull out his wand and levitate the man up. He took a few moments to Scourgify the blood from both of their bodies before stripping down to his under shorts and climbing into bed beside Severus. He pulled the covers up around both of them, worried about the coldness of Severus' skin. Pressing his fingers against the man's throat he felt for the pulse - it was strong, already slowing down as the Dreamless Sleep Draught calmed him.
He found himself running his fingers slowly across Severus' chest, tracing the scars that lined his body. So many scars - and all from past events that he knew nothing about. They spoke of a life of pain and hardship - and the muscles beneath those scars spoke of strength and the determination to overcome whatever life threw at him. Severus would overcome this too, he told himself - no matter what this madness was that had gripped him, Severus would survive it. He had to. Harry couldn't imagine any other possibility.
He leaned down and gently kissed the man's chest, directly over his beating heart. Then he laid his head against that spot, and wrapped his arms around Severus. He could hear the slow steady beating of Severus heart beneath his ear.
"Severus," Harry whispered, but the man did not answer. Harry closed his eyes and ignored the slow leak of tears that slipped from between his lashes.
When Severus awoke the following morning, shaking off the linger effects of Dreamless Sleep - he couldn't remember taking the potion - he found himself wrapped around Harry. It took him only a moment to realize that they both felt naked - Harry's chest was certainly bare. But no - he was still wearing - Severus frowned, his trousers? Why was he wearing his trousers to bed? And where were the Muggle-style pajamas that Harry seemed to favor?
And then he remembered the events of last night, and the blood in his veins ran cold in shock.
His eyes moved instantly to his forearm and the silver bands wrapped around the Dark Mark. He could see a bandage beneath the bands and he remembered far too clearly cutting away at his own flesh. Oh, god! Harry had found him like that - after everything else Harry had been through that day, he had to return home to find Severus sitting in a pool of blood attempting to cut off his own arm.
Horrified, Severus carefully extracted himself from his tangled position around Harry, moving carefully and cautiously out of the bed without disturbing the sleeping the boy. Silently he moved across the room and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door and sealing it up with a silencing charm. He found himself staring into his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. The man staring back at him looked almost like a stranger.
In his lifetime, Severus had experienced many forms of pain - from the common injuries endured in the sword duels he'd fought, to the extremes of the Cruciatus. But even under the blind, mind-rending agony of the Cruciatus Curse, Severus had never really felt himself in danger of losing his mind. Somehow he'd always been able to separate his emotions and thoughts from the physical sensations tearing through his body.
But last night, for the first time in his life, he truly believed he had gone mad. At first it had been the bell ringing - growing louder and louder until he thought it might deafen him. But when the pull came - the Calling - and he'd realized that he would not be able to answer it, he thought his heart was going to burst from his chest. He'd known immediately what was wrong - could feel the Dark Lord inside his mind, wrapped around his soul, draining his magic. He'd fought it - tried desperately to reach beyond that horrible grip - tried to access the part of his soul that the bell was Calling to. It was like being born all over again - only to realize at the last minute that he was not going to be able to attend his own birth.
Nothing he did could push past that grip that held him - he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think. His magic, which had always been so strong, failed him utterly. But beyond the sheer wrongness of the situation, beyond the pain of being denied what was his, came the panic when he realized that Harry would be there. Harry would be summoned to this place and Severus could not reach him. Severus could not protect him.
The idea to cut the Mark from his body seemed perfectly logical at the time - and by then he was beyond feeling simple pains like torn flesh. When he could not cut the wires binding the Mark, he'd shoved the blade underneath them. When he could not easily carve out the Mark, he though about simply shaving all the flesh right off his bone. An ax or a saw would probably have been better - he could just cut off his forearm entirely - he'd been desperate.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut in horror. Harry had walked in on that - he remembered fighting with Harry for control of the knife. Had he hurt him? He couldn't recall cutting him. But he could have done so accidentally so easily.
His eyes flew open in shock - he'd attacked Harry. He wasn't certain of the sequence of events, but he distinctly remembered attacking him - kissing him, forcing him to the ground, tearing at his clothing. Was that why he was nearly naked in their bed? Had he raped him? He barely made it to the toilet in time as nausea rose within him and he threw up what little he had in his stomach.
It took several minutes for his stomach to settle, and he sat on the cold floor of the bathroom, shaking in reaction while he tried to piece together the sequence of events. Someone else had been there in the room - Harry hadn't been alone. Someone had helped him - someone had stopped Severus.
"Dobby!" he called out, and instantly the little elf appeared in front of him. Surprisingly the creature was holding a small potion vial in his hand. He recognized the label as one of his own.
"Master Severus should drink this, Dobby is thinking," the little elf urged, holding out the potion to him.
Confused by the behavior - elves were not known to prescribe potions for wizards without being prompted - Severus took the bottle. It was a Calming Draught, something he knew he desperately needed. He pulled out the stopper and drank it down. Then he stared hard at the little elf. "Did I hurt him?" he asked. Dobby was one of Lucius Malfoy's former house elves - he would know all there was to know about how a man could hurt another.
But Dobby shook his head, ears raised as he faced Severus. "Dobby is not letting you hurt Master Harry," he answered. "Dobby is helping Master Harry with bringing the Dittany and banishing the nasty knives. Dobby is knowing what to do."
Relief washed through him. He hadn't hurt him - frightened him perhaps, but Dobby had stopped him from hurting him. "Thank you, Dobby," he whispered, never before so grateful to an elf. He pulled himself carefully to his feet. "Bring me my clothes," he ordered and the elf nodded and vanished.
Stripping out of his trousers he climbed into the shower. He could tell that he'd been cleaned with a Scourgify Charm - they were good in a pinch but left his skin feeling itchy and dry. The water soaked immediately into the bandage on his arm, and he pried it loose from his skin. The Dittany had healed his knife wounds - ten point to Gryffindor for remembering such a thing. But the Mark still looked angry and swollen and the sight sickened Severus.
Voldemort still owned him. It didn't matter where his loyalty lay, didn't matter whose side he fought on - Voldemort still held full claim to his power, and all this time he hadn't a clue. None of them had.
He could not imagine there was a Wizard or Witch anywhere in the world who would have taken the Mark if they had truly known what it meant. It was supposed to be a means of communication - a way for Voldemort to contact his followers, and a way for all them to tune their magic together so that they would be capable of tandem spells. But this went so far beyond that - it gave Voldemort complete access to all their power - without their consent. And there wasn't a damned thing they could do about it. Even with his Mark warded by Dumbledore so that Voldemort could not torture him through it, his power was still controlled by the Dark Lord. When the time came and Voldemort fought Harry, Severus' own magic would be used against his bondmate. The very thought was unbearable.
Dobby left his clothes sitting on the bathroom counter. Severus dressed in silence before exiting the bathroom, taking down the silencing charm. Across the room he could still see Harry sleeping soundly in bed, still insensate to the world. Severus exited the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him. A quick wave of his wand built up the fire in his fireplace - it wasn't cold, but he wanted the familiar light. Despite the Calming Draught he still felt unsettled, and he found himself pacing back and forth in front of the fire as he replayed the events of yesterday over and over again in his head. Gods, he thought, what was he going to say to Harry? How could he possibly apologize? How could things have spiraled out of control so quickly?
He tried to reconstruct the events of last night - everything was still so fuzzy. What had he said to Harry? He remembered yelling - he remembered trying to explain ... something ... to him. But the details were all gone. Had Harry fought him when he'd attacked him? He remembered blood on his hands - on Harry's hands. For eight months he'd worked hard to build trust between the two of them - to try and give Harry a home that he could feel safe in, welcomed in - and in one minute he'd destroyed all that. And at the worst possible time imaginable - when the whole world was literally pounding at Harry's door, demanding a piece of him.
A loud thump from the bedroom startled him and he turned swiftly around in alarm. The bedroom door flew open, and Harry came running from the room, shouting his name in a panic. The look of terror in those green eyes froze Severus in place.
Seeing him standing there, Harry skidded to a stop, staring at him as if in a daze, one hand coming to rest against his own chest as if to still his pounding heart. Severus couldn't help the utterly inappropriate voice in his head that pointed out that Harry was nearly naked - and dear god the young man was beautiful!
"Are you all right?"
It took Severus a moment to realize that Harry had asked the question - shouldn't he have been the one asking such a thing? Harry was worried about him? He mentally shook himself - wanting to give himself a good swift kick in the head. Of course he was worried - he'd walked in on him trying to cut off his own arm last night and had awakened to find him gone.
"I'm fine," he assured him quickly. What was he to say? How was he to fix this? "Harry, I owe you an apology. I can't begin-"
Severus words were instantly cut off has Harry swiftly crossed the room and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Don't," he pleaded. "Just don't!"
Shocked at the sudden press of warm flesh against him, Severus' thoughts spun in confusion as he hesitantly brought his arms up around the boy. That was it? He was forgiven? Just like that? It didn't seem even remotely possible - nothing in his life had ever come so easily. But the way Harry was hold him spoke of a desperate need for normalcy or comfort that perhaps transcended his atrocious behavior. Maybe Harry could forgive him - but was he supposed to forgive himself as well? Could he really accept something so good and pure into his life without destroying it?
And then he realized that his hands were slowly stroking the smooth skin of Harry's back, and his head had turned so that he could inhale the sweet scent of heated flesh rising from the body in his arms as his magic greedily drank in the power surrounding him. His body was already growing hard with need, and he knew there was absolutely nothing good or pure about the directions his thoughts were going. In fact he was very likely to do something else unforgivable any moment now unless he put a stop to this.
"You realize of course that you're practically naked," he informed the young man, trying to keep his voice light and teasing.
Harry squawked in shock and drew back, glancing down at himself in mortification, all that bare skin turning bright red in embarrassment. A second later he bolted across the room and slammed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Severus alone in the living room to bring his painful aroused body back into his control.
He sank wearily down into one of the arm chairs - how in Merlin's name was he going to survive like this? He wanted him so badly it hurt! And it had gone beyond just craving his body - he had a horrible suspicion after what had happened last night and the realization that Voldemort was draining his magic, that he was also craving Harry's power. How sick was that - this young man who was willing to sacrifice himself for everyone, who forgave Severus his crimes - and all Severus could think about was feeding on his power, like some lust driven vampire.
What a wonderful human being he was, Severus thought in disgust. What a great protector Albus had picked for the Boy Who Lived. What a wonderful, virtuous, unselfish man the Marriage Stone had chosen as the bondmate for the Wizarding World's Savior. Arthur Pendragon had been married to the beautiful Guinevere - but poor Harry Potter got stuck with the evil Black Knight.
A sound at the owl entrance distracted him from his increasingly dark thoughts, and Harry's white owl Hedwig flew in, dropping the morning paper on Severus' lap before landing on her perch and staring at him. She looked slightly rumpled this morning, and Severus frowned in concern. But she just chirped at him, and looked rather pointedly at the paper she'd delivered.
The Daily Prophet was unusually thick today. Severus unfolded it and stared down at the headlines. All the other millions of things he should be thinking about instead of how sweet Harry's skin smelled or how perfect his body felt pressed against his own came rushing back to him.
Oh Merlin, he though in shock as he stared down at the blazing headline and the photo on the front page. He was married to the King of the Wizarding World. How in Salazar's name was he supposed to deal with that?