Disclaimer: Not mine - just borrowing them

Warning: This story contains slash HP/SS - please do not read if you don't approve.

Beta'd by the magical irisgirl12000 -

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The last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year dawned sunny and warm. Most of the older students left the castle in high spirits waking down towards the gates to the school. The fifth and seventh years were in the middle of the OWLs and NEWTs, and most were revising frantically, so the sixth years had been charged with watching out for the younger students, who had run on ahead.

Harry led the way with a tense smile plastered on his face. He was very apprehensive about this sojourn into the wizarding village; a bad feeling had nagged at him all week, growing stronger as the day approached. He had tried to tell everyone, from the Headmaster to Hermione, but no one had taken him seriously. He had been dismissed, told that he was just jumpy after the Order of the Phoenix had thwarted an attack by Voldemort the previous weekend after one of his visions. Glancing behind him, he saw that everyone had paired up with their significant other, Ron and Hermione, followed by Neville and Luna, followed by Seamus and Justin Finch-Fletchley, and the most surprising pairing, Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

The main street was empty when the students arrived, fanning out to visit different shops. Harry scanned the area cautiously, wondering where the villagers were on this fine Saturday morning. The group split up, and he headed alone towards Honeydukes. Harry was two steps from the door when he heard the telltale crack of Apparation. Wand in hand, Harry spun back towards the street just as Professor Severus Snape ran from the far side of the building, long black robes billowing.

“Potter! It’s an ambush, gather the students and get back to the castle!”

Harry dug a gold galleon out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand, three times. Members of the DA poured into the street just as Snape skidded to a stop beside him.

“Get everyone back to Hogwarts, now! It’s an ambush!” Harry shouted urgently.

The sound of multiple Apparations could be heard from behind them as students were gathered, and urged to run in the opposite direction. Some of the DA pushed the large group of younger students in a run towards the castle, while others flanked Harry and the Potions Master. As Harry turned to face the approaching enemy, his scar seared with white-hot pain, agony shooting through his head. Occluding his mind as the tall, stoic man at his side had taught him, he was able to block some of the debilitating pain.

“He’s here,” Harry hissed, “Voldemort is here.”

“Bloody hell!” Severus Snape ground out, knowing the implication of that for his continuing role as a spy. He turned to watch their attackers approach.

A ring of Death Eaters surrounded the tall, skeletal, black-clad figure. The group walked slowly towards them, casting hexes and curses at the retreating children. Members of the DA responded to them, allowing the younger children to escape. Without thinking, Harry erected a shield behind them to cover the retreat with his left hand, as he threw blasting curses with his right. Snape stood shoulder to shoulder with him, stunning the closest of the Death Eaters, as he also shielded the running children.

“We meet again, Harry Potter,” the reptilian voice hissed. Scarlet eyes gleamed in triumph.

Harry didn’t bother answering, defending himself against the advancing Death Eaters, standing his ground and stopping their progress just meters from them.

“Severussss, you profoundly disappoint me.”

The Potions Master blocked a jet of purple spell light with his own shield. Harry’s eyes continued to water, the pain in his head intense. With a wave of his hand, he motioned Ron, Draco, and Hermione behind his shield with the remaining members of the DA. They moved quickly, reinforcing the shielding as the last of the students escaped the village.

“Not very bright are you, Tom, showing up this close to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore.”

“Flussshing out traitorsss callsss for drastic actions.”

The right flank of Death Eaters began to rush them, and as Harry stood fighting, he did not see the flick of Voldemort’s wand. A wave of dark magic rocked him as the town disappeared. He was dropped to the cold dirt floor of a stone cell, the prone figure of Severus Snape draped over his leg. More black-robed figures descended on them and Harry found himself pummeled with hexes and beaten with something heavy. The world went black.

Shivering with cold and shock, Severus Snape regained consciousness to find himself cradled in the arms of Harry Potter. Wild hair matted with blood, face pale and bruised, and shaking as badly as the Potions Master, he was holding Severus tightly. An angel to guide him through his last painful hours, Severus mused, leaning into the little warmth generated by the thin teen. When the boy opened his mouth, Severus laid a shaky finger across it, and then pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall. Looping an arm around the boy, he pulled Harry against him. A muffed gasp of pain told the older wizard that he wasn’t the only one in pain.

Pressing his lips against the teen’s ear, he hissed at him that the cell was magically monitored and they probably would have company soon. A slight nod indicated that Harry understood, and Severus felt proud of the young man. They had trained intensely since the beginning of this school year, the death of his godfather and learning of the Prophecy having profoundly changed the young Gryffindor. Gone was the devilish grin and mischievous manner that Harry had displayed since his first year, replaced by an unnaturally serious and quiet sixteen–year-old, who had devoted himself to his studies and spent every spare moment in secret defense and Occlumency training. Now that he had superb control of his raw magic, Harry Potter was an extremely powerful wizard, with exceptional wandless abilities, which the Potion Master and the Headmaster had kept a well-guarded secret.

Harry watched as his teacher struggled with each breath, his normally sallow face deathly pale. Mentally chanting a healing spell, Harry ran his hands over the man’s chest and abdomen, and then back up to his head. He was thankful to hear an immediate ease in the Potions Master’s breathing, and he repeated the motion over his companion’s arms and legs. Scooting back, Harry was surprised when an arm snaked out to pull him back against the warmth of Snape’s side. With a soft sigh, he leaned into the comfort being offered. Severus Snape was an excellent tutor and a harsh taskmaster, who never praised his most hated student; yet, Harry had found over the past year that he had come to trust Snape implicitly, and was happiest in the older man’s company. Training hard, mastering the tasks he was being taught, and even managing to do well at potions, even though nothing he did seemed to truly please the man, he still took comfort lack of snarky comments while being in his presence.

His head continued to pound, and his scar burned painfully, but there was nothing that Harry could do. It seemed that the healing spells he had worked so hard to learn could not be cast on oneself. Checking once again, Harry made sure that the shields were up in his mind, then he allowed his head to rest back against Snape’s shoulder. Despite the pain he was in, Harry tried to examine the small stone cell they were in the best he could, attempting to find a way out through the wards he felt pressing against him.

The heavy wooden door of the cell flew open and slammed against the wall, causing both occupants to jump to their feet, only to be immediately overwhelmed by crowd of black-robed Death Eaters. Arms twisted up behind their backs, they were marched to a richly appointed chamber, with thick warm rugs cushioning the floors, and thick brocade curtains covering the windows. The room, like the hallways the two men had been led through, had a musty, unused smell. A large throne-like chair stood in front of a roaring fireplace, and was occupied by a black-clad, skeletally thin figure. Although most of the face was in shadow, scarlet eyes could be seen blazing from the depths.

Harry’s head seared with white-hot pain, and his knees buckled as he struggled to reinforce his mental walls, to seal off the pain. Both wizards were forced to their knees in front of Voldemort, who watched them with snake-like eyes, his gaze almost hungry. Harry drew support from the tall, silent man beside him, and was able to mitigate the pain to a fierce ache.

“I am mossst disssappointed in you, Ssseverusss, betrayed by one I had loved ssso much. I have debated long and hard to conceive of a punissshment that would bring you an adequate level of pain.”

A long, white, skeletal finger reached out to stroke an alabaster cheek, and Severus had to force himself not to flinch away. He knew that his former master was watching for any sign of weakness, just as he knew the torture planned would be excruciating. Having made his peace with the prospect of death two years before when he was summoned back to service by a newly resurrected Voldemort, Severus felt a calm descend on him. It was unfortunate that Harry Potter had also been taken, but Severus reflected on the boy’s seeming ability to defeat Tom Riddle at every turn, and fervently hoped that luck would hold.

“Yesss, it only ssseemsss right that a traitor sssuffer many timesss the pain I could inflict on your fragile body, Ssseveruss, therefore I have decided to cassst the Enssslavement Bond on you and Potter, then I will enssslave him to me!”

The cold, high-pitched laugh sent chills running the length of his spine and the Potions Master felt his stomach roll. An enslavement bond was one that bound two souls together as one, allowing the master to tap into the magical powers of the slave, and the slave to feel every emotion and pain of the master. It was a bastardization of the soul-binding spell used by life partners to bind them together in every possible way. The Dark Lord, by making Potter his master, and then enslaving the boy himself, would have at his disposal both their combined magical powers, which could well make him undefeatable, given the level of the teen’s magical power.

“Yesss, but first, a bit of sport. Crucio!”

The torture seemed to last for hours, and the pair once again regained consciousness in the cold, dank cell. Pulling the awakening teen into his arms, Severus found that Harry was trembling violently, thanks to prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. He also knew that they did not have much time before the evil bastard came for them again.

“Harry!” he hissed urgently in the boy’s ear.

“Professor, are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright,” he whispered in a pale imitation of his usual irate roar, “but you must listen to me! The Enslavement Bond only works if you are unwilling. If you are willing, it reverts back to a soul-mate bond instead. Do you understand, Potter? He won’t be able to enslave us if we willing bond to each other instead, he won’t be able to use our magic.”

The brilliant emerald eyes stared at him out of the deathly pale face, the trembling hands working automatically to cast a healing spell, and Severus was hard pressed not to shake the boy.

“Do you trust me, Harry?”

“Yes, Professor, I trust you,” came the whispered response.

“Are you willing to bond with me, Harry?”

“Yes, sir.”

The door slammed open again, and the two captives found themselves dragged once more to the ornate sitting room, where Lord Voldemort sat on his throne-like chair. Without so much as a word, the two were made to kneel facing each other, their left hands held palm out; a short Death Eater with a silver hand sliced into both palms and tied them together, so the blood intermingled. Harry could feel himself tremble, but found reassurance in the onyx eyes facing him, even as the Dark Lord began an incantation in Latin. A tingling sensation started on his skin, and Harry was surprised to find an aura of gold surrounding him, and a silver aura glowing around Snape. Where their blood mixed, the aura turned pure white, and Voldemort cackled at the sight.

“Now, we complete the bond,” Voldemort declared, before folding himself back into the throne-like chair. “Wormtail!”

Harry watched with trepidation as their hands were freed. He darted a glance at the Potions Master, surprised to see resignation and sorrow in the obsidian eyes. A hand grabbed Harry’s chin and yanked his head back, pouring a vial of bitter-tasting potion down his throat. A hand clamped across his face until he was forced to choked it down in order to breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Professor Snape had been backhanded and pushed on to his hands and knees.

A wand cast a spell over him; his head spinning, Harry dropped to all fours, the high, cold laughter heard as if from a distance. His head felt full of cotton, and an unfamiliar urge filled him, frightening him with its intensity. An erection sprung up between his legs, hot and throbbing, and Harry, a novice at any kind of sex act that didn’t involve his own hand, felt tears of mortification welling in his eyes. Just as suddenly as the arousal had struck, a new feeling of calm reverberated through him, easing the anguish. A soft, reassuring voice in the back of his mind explained that this was part of what had to be done to complete the bond, soothing him as he bit back a sob.

The horror of a circle of jeering black-robed witnesses faded, and Harry moved to frantically grab the hips in front of him. His vision narrowed so that Harry could only see Severus Snape in front of him; the voice urged him on, and he eased his way into the tight passage as he was directed, praying that he wasn’t causing pain. Something was driving him to move, and Harry did, moving in and out as he felt a coiling in his belly that he recognized. With a feeling of humiliation, Harry climaxed, instantly feeling a rush of awareness flow through him. The voice in his head was loud and easily recognized as Snape’s.

‘All right, Harry, move! Just follow what I do!’

Pulling forward, Severus shot to his feet, scattering the startled Death Eaters. Stopping only to grab Harry’s arm, he threw up a hand, and the feeling of raw power that flowed through him was astonishing.

“Accio Snape and Potter wands!”

The two wands leapt from Wormtail’s pocket into his hand, and Severus snatched them both. He fired a blasting curse, and then whipped around to fire off a stunning spell; as soon as all the immediate threats were neutralized, he wrapped his arms around the teenager. Drawing on their combined magical abilities, he Apparated them through the ward to the gates of Hogwarts, where he scooped the unresponsive Gryffindor into his arms.

At a half run, barefoot and half naked, the Potions Master made his way to the hospital wing. Shouting for the medi-witch, he collapsed on a bed, his arms still cradling the pale sixteen-year-old boy whose haunted green eyes were fixed on his face. Although he had been the recipient of the final act in the bonding ritual, Severus felt as if he had raped the boy. Severus knew he preferred men to women, but Harry had been given no choice, and was now bound to him for life. Poppy ran to him from her room behind her office, eyes flaring at the tattered and bloody sight of them both. Without question, she went to work on the teenager’s many injuries, stymied only by Harry’s death grip on the older wizard.

Albus Dumbledore appeared at his elbow, looking weary and haggard. In clear, precise terms, Severus relayed to the powerful wizard what had transpired during the twelve hours of their captivity. Unflinchingly, he revealed everything, the torture, the forced bond, and the way the two had circumvented the enslavement; he included the consummation as well. Describing the immense magical power that he had felt once the bond was complete, the Potions Master did not admit that the sheer force of the magic was frightening in its intensity. Severus chose not to tell the Headmaster the fact that he had already sealed off the bond, ruthlessly squelching it from him side. The boy didn’t need a constant reminder of the damnation Severus had brought to them both, courtesy of the snake-faced bastard he had chosen to serve before the boy was born. The elderly wizard had merely listened and nodded his head.

“I will leave it to you to explain to Harry the ramifications of the soul-binding, and what he needs to know in order to deal with it. I would not be surprised to find this liaison leaked to the Daily Prophet, as it would bring suspicion to bear on you once again. It will also, I am certain, portray Harry in a bad light.”

Severus had already come to the same conclusion, and was well aware of the resulting difficulties this would bring to the Boy-Who-Lived. Poppy pronounced that Harry would survive, healed the last of his injuries, and poured a vial of Dreamless Sleep down his throat. As the potion went to work, and Harry succumbed to sleep, the Potions Master was finally able to pull away. Pressing a kiss to the wild mop of hair, he made his escape when the nurse left to retrieve a hospital gown for the boy. He encountered no one on his journey through the shadows to his rooms in the dungeons, slipping in through the heavily warded door as the castle slept. Showering and assessing his own injuries, he took several potions to aid in healing, and then downed a vial of Dreamless Sleep himself.

It was still dark outside when Harry opened his eyes. Feeling disoriented, he wasn’t sure how long he had slept. As the confusion waned, Harry was hit broadside by wave after wave of memory and emotion, as the scenes from being held captive in Voldemort’s lair played at high speed through his mind. Feelings of horror, humiliation, and self-disgust at his actions were supplanted by an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. Sitting up, he buried his head in his hands. The knowledge that he had raped the person who had come to mean so much to him weighed heavily on his heart. In his secret heart of hearts, Harry had harbored a feeling of attraction, and the deep desire that Severus Snape might some day come to see him as something other than a means to an end, a nuisance, and possibly something more than just James Potter’s son.

As he silently got to his feet and located the change of clothing that had been left for him, Harry reflected on the Prophecy that had overshadowed his life since the end of his fifth year. He was not a stupid child who could be consoled with vague interpretations of the words he now knew by heart, it had taken many hours of deep thought that summer as he mourned the death of his godfather, but he now knew, and accepted, that he was to die in order to kill Voldemort. Dressing slowly, his body screaming at the movement, his muscles taut and sore, he slipped out of the hospital wing and crept down towards the main Entrance Hall. The Great Hall was full, and Harry could see that he had slept clear through to dinner Sunday night.

Feeling as if he would choke on anything he put in his mouth, Harry continued silently across the entry and up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. Retrieving his invisibility cloak from his trunk, he made his way to the solitude of the Astronomy Tower. The chill in the Scottish air went unnoticed as Harry slumped down beside a parapet, his cloak concealing him from most eyes, and cried. Deep sobs that seemed to start from his toes shook his body, and he did nothing to stop them. He was a coward as well as a rapist, and an inadvertent murderer, with the blood of many people, most of them those who had loved him best, on his hands.

A pale sliver of dawn was lighting the eastern horizon before he was able to rouse himself enough to silently make his way back to the Tower. Showering and dressing, he again wrapped himself in his cloak, and lay down on his bed to wait for the castle to awaken for a new day. Only five more days to get through, before Harry would be on a train back to the Dursleys, so that they could lock him in Dudley’s second bedroom, at best to ignore him and starve him, at worst to express their displeasure in chores and punches. It didn’t seem to matter anymore to him. The great empty space inside him would still be there, and he was destined to die, sooner rather than later, he hoped fervently.

Harry managed to make his way through his classed mechanically Monday and Tuesday, avoiding discussions of what might have happened to him, and begging off both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall’s attempts to invite him to tea. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, and never would be. Rumors were circulating wildly through the castle. His eyes glued to the floor in front of him, he did not even attempt to find Professor Snape, and avoided the Great Hall at meal times, finally attempting to eat some soup that Hermione forced on him just to get her to leave him alone. It took less than five minutes for his stomach to reject it.

Late Tuesday night, back again at the top of the Astronomy Tower, the thought of having to walk into the Potions classroom the next morning had him swaying as he stood in front of a low wall, surveying the ground a hundred feet below. The self-loathing struck him so hard, Harry felt he could not breathe; the bloody Savior of the wizarding world was a coward who could not even end his own pain. How could a weak, despicable freak like him defeat a powerful Dark Lord, when he couldn’t even stop himself from bleeding out inside?

Severus Snape sat in a leather armchair staring in to the brightly burning fire; June in the dungeons carried a chill, but nothing like the cold tendrils that wrapped around his heart. The Potions Master had kept to himself since his escape from the hospital wing in the early morning hours Sunday. Refusing all attempts to draw him out, he had attended his classes, assigning bookwork so that he didn’t have to expend the energy necessary to supervise brewing. He had begged off the Headmaster’s summons for tea, indicating he was still feeling the affects of the weekend torture. Students had been whispering, and he had heard to rumors that Potter had all but disappeared from view, except for his classes. Severus swirled the brandy in the snifter he held, ruthlessly pushing back the loneliness and guilt trying to seep out from under the walls he had erected.

A pounding at the door to his quarters was the only warning he received, before the towering figure of Albus Dumbledore stood before him. The half invisible form of Harry Potter floated behind him, and was settled gently on to the plush sofa. Opening his mouth to object, vehemently, Severus snapped his jaw shut when he looked into the older wizard’s eyes. The normally twinkling blue eyes were hard chips of sapphire, the anger radiating from the powerful wizard in waves, and he took a step back unconsciously.

“Albus?”

“I love you like a son, Severus Snape,” the Headmaster bit out, “but I will not hesitate to do you serious harm if you do not fulfill your responsibilities and start acting like an honorable adult!”

An arm clad in violently bright blue waved at the extremely pale boy lying all but lifeless on the couch.

“I just retrieved Harry from the Astronomy Tower, where he appeared to be poised to leap off. I have cast a sleeping spell on him, as he has not eaten nor slept since he awoke, alone, in the hospital wing around dinnertime on Sunday!” Dumbledore took a step toward him. “You have closed the bond off, Severus; you have taken from Harry the one thing that might have comforted him in the wake of what happened last weekend! Do you have any idea what your selfish act has done to him?”

Severus winced at the disappointment in the voice. True displeasure, the likes of which hadn’t been directed at him in decades, flashed through the blue eyes boring through him.

“You have not bothered to explain to Harry what the bond means, nor have you tried to dissuade him of the idea that he raped you! He is slowly dying, Severus, and you don’t seem to care at all!” Albus Dumbledore raged at him. “And yet, you are well aware that if anything happens to him, you will die as well! I will not lose either one of you, Severus, and you will rectify this situation immediately!”

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore levitated Harry into the bedroom, settling the boy into Severus’ bed before gently removing his shoes and outer clothing, then tucking him between the sheets. He marched back into the adjoining sitting room, his eyes again pinning the Potions Master with a steely gaze.

“Your classes are covered tomorrow, and you are not to leave this room until you have come clean with Harry, and gotten him to eat something. Do not disappoint me again, Severus!”

He watched as the powerful wizard swept out of the room, swallowing stiffly. Severus knew that everything the Headmaster had said was true, and he’d been trying to deceive himself that closing the bond was to protect the boy. He had been in denial, true, but he had not thought it would have this profound an effect on the beautiful young man now sleeping in his bed. With a sigh, Severus waved down the lights, and took care of his nightly routine. For a long moment, he stood beside the bed clad in a silk nightshirt, looking down at the pale face.

Sitting on the edge, he gently brushed the fringe off Harry’s forehead, his breath catching as the teen leaned into the caress. As he carded his fingers through the soft hair, he concentrated on slowly releasing the block he’d used to seal off the bond. Slipping into bed, he lay on his back, and it was no hardship at all to pull Harry into his arms and cradle him against his chest. With a sigh, Severus closed his eyes, not expecting to sleep at all, yet falling immediately into a deep sleep.

The first thing that registered in his consciousness as Harry became aware was that he was warm and safe; the second was that the great emptiness inside him was gone, and then, that he was not alone. A warm body pressed against him from behind, an arm wrapped around his waist and legs tangled with his almost comfortably. Harry didn’t even have to think, he knew it was Snape with him, and his breathing hitched, catching deep in his chest. He moved, trying to think of a way to get free, to run and hide. The arms tightened and he cried out, struggling.

“Shhh, Harry, don’t. It’s okay, just take a deep breath for me,” a soothing voice whispered in his ear.

Drawing in a breath, Harry slowly forced himself to relax and ease back into the embrace. As he did, Harry felt something let loose inside him and to his horror, he was crying again. Strong arms turned him and he was cradled against a hard chest, a silky layer of cloth absorbing his tears as they fell, a gentle hand rubbing his back. At the show of comfort, wracking sobs welled up in his chest, and Harry gave into the maelstrom of emotion that he’d been feeling inside.

Severus closed his eyes, and felt the heart he wasn’t supposed to possess ache as the young man cried. Dumbledore had been right; if he’d had the courage to stay with the young Gryffindor that night in the hospital wing, he could have saved him so much grief. Instead, he had left Harry with no idea how to deal with what they had gone through, slinking back to the dungeons in true Slytherin style. Reaching through the bond, he felt almost overwhelmed by the guilt and self-loathing, and now, confusion.

As the sobs slowed down to hiccups, Severus moved one arm down to brace Harry against him, and the other to gently stroke through the raven hair. Gathering his thoughts and his courage, he began to speak.

“The Headmaster is rather upset with me, Harry, and he is right to be. I should have stayed with you in the infirmary that night, instead of wrapping myself in my uncertainty and disappearing to the dungeons. Would you like to go out to the sitting room and have some tea?”

“No, I’d rather stay here, please.”

“Under the concealment of the dark, Mister Potter, how Slytherin of you,” he waved up a single small candle

“Yeah,” came the muffled reply, “should have let the stupid hat put me there like it wanted too.”

The Head of Slytherin House blinked once, and then again, before pushing that conversation away for some other time. He cleared his throat lightly, wondering how to start in a way that would not further the damage already done. He settled Harry against him so that his length was pressing against Severus’ side, his head resting on Severus’ chest. In a gesture meant to comfort, his hand still carded slowly through the soft raven hair.

“First and foremost, I want you to know that your actions during the time we were in captivity were well thought out and well executed. Do you understand what I am saying? You did everything right, Harry, going into the binding willingly and even…consummating the bond…”

Harry had stiffened, and tried to pull away, but Severus held fast, hand continuing to stroke through the silky hair.

“Wormtail poured an aphrodisiac potion of some type down your throat, which is why you acted as you did.” Fingers slid from his hair to his chin, bringing up his face until they could see each other’s eyes. “The only thing I regret is that I was not able to forewarn you. I feel that I am the one who has impinged on your virtue.”

Holding the emerald eyes in the dimness, Severus leaned down slowly and pressed a kiss to the surprised lips. The rightness of it and the pull of the bond fought him as he drew back, and Harry caught at his nightshirt.

“Would you…would you do that again?” The green eyes seemed to glow, and Severus found he could deny them nothing.

Leaning in, he captured the slightly chapped lips, sucking the lower lip gently as he ran his tongue along the seam. Harry opened his mouth with a soft sigh, and the kiss turned desperate and needy. Harry was inexperienced, but not at all tentative, mimicking the older man’s actions until Severus ripped his mouth away. Panting, he pulled the teenager’s head back to his chest and struggled to slow his breathing.

“The bond the Dark Lord used was ancient magic, which binds us for life, and in all things. As such, we will be able to hear what each other is thinking, feel what the other is feeling, and only be able to have consensual sexual relations with each other. I believe that there is also a proximity bond woven in, which will require that we spend at least a few hours of each day together.”

“I am not sure what all that means, exactly, but I do know that I feel differently now than I did when I woke up,” Harry replied. He tilted his head up, the emerald eyes beseeching him. “You did something to the bond, didn’t you?”

Severus closed his eyes tightly, “Yes, I thought if I closed it off, you would be better off.”

“You thought? Leaving me to wake up, alone and aching with emptiness? That was how you thought I would be better off?” Harry snarled, struggling again to get free.

Severus kept his arms locked around the young man, wondering how to start to untangle the mess he found himself in, one of his own making.

“What can I do, Harry, to reassure you that it will never happen again?”

The obsidian eyes did not flinch as Harry glared into them, trying to gauge their sincerity. The tight knot in his chest had eased as the older man continued to hold him, the sense of wellbeing seeping into him from their entwined bodies. Harry knew enough about soul-bonds to know that this was forever, and knew that he would need this contact, this warmth, to ground him.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t try and shut me out again, Professor, and that if this is to be our bedroom, that when we are in this room, there is no fighting, no sarcasm, no hurting, just us, okay?” The emerald eyes beseeched him, knowing that he needed a refuge against the turmoil in his life.

Obsidian eyes met his, and Harry could feel the older wizard reach through the bond to understand what it was he needed. As he watched the shifting emotions in the depths of the darkness, he felt tendrils of gentle, unsure emotion reach out to each other, and Harry’s world shifted as recognition passed between them. It was tentative and uncertain, but it was a base to build love on.

“I give you my oath, as a wizard, that I will never attempt to seal off our bond, Harry, and that our bedroom will be a sanctuary from the outside world, for both of us.”

Warmth burst from his chest and radiated outward, but he did not break eye contact. There was one last thing he knew they must do before he could accept what had happened to them completely.

“I accept your oath, Professor, and pledge an oath of my own as well to do the same.”

Severus smiled slightly, “I think you should call me Severus when we are in our own rooms, Harry. Now, we need to get you something to eat…”

“No…Severus, I need you to…to make love to me, now, to take away the memories of being forced,” Harry implored him, a trembling hand reaching up to stroke his chest.

Severus searched the pale face intently before groaning and taking the soft pink lips in a hungry kiss. Despite what had happened between them, he knew Harry was still an innocent, and set out to seduce him with soft hands, and warm lips. Clothing was shed and magic crackled between heated skins as Severus slowly worshipped the lean, toned form beneath him. Fingertips stroked, finding sensitive spots, lips teased nipples and trailed down a firm abdomen. Taking the burgeoning tip into his mouth, lean hands anchored the bucking hips as he took Harry to oblivion in just a few strokes. With gentle fingers, Severus prepared his bond-mate, softly explaining what he was doing, and how it should feel, as Harry’s erection returned rapidly. Easing himself into the tight, velvet heat, the older man was lost when Harry arched up to meet him. Allowing Harry to dictate the motion, Severus lost himself to the rhythm, spilling himself explosively into the young wizard as he felt Harry’s second climax take him.

A whispered cleaning charm was followed Severus tugging the blanket up around them, knowing that they both had felt the world right itself as they had come together. With a sigh, Severus gathered Harry to his chest, and for the first time since they were captured, allowed himself to believe that the two of them had a future together. Pressing a kiss to a sweat-damp temple, he followed Harry into sleep.

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