Snape's Home Remedies

Chapter Four

Harry actually dozed off, likely a combination of the potion and emotional exhaustion. He slept until nearly dusk and awakened with the knowledge that he felt quite a lot better. The congestion in his chest had lessened and, although he had a slight headache, it was probably the result of too much lying down.

He was pleased to see no sign of his new nemesis. He swung his feet off the bed and changed back into his jeans while he considered possible locations for his wand. If it were in his room, he could Skywalker it back into his hand with an Accio. He tried it, just in case, with the expected negative results. Snape most likely had it locked up downstairs, or tucked into a pocket.

He quickly left the bed and headed for the stairs. If Snape had really set an alarm, it was apparently silent, for no whistles or bells sounded when he crossed the imaginary line of demarcation.

Harry tripped down the stairs, allowing himself the brief hope that Snape had departed. The hope was snuffed by the evil one himself appearing at the foot of the stairs.

"Am I allowed to use the lavatory?" Harry snapped.

Snape gestured expansively down the hall without comment. As Harry passed, he noticed Snape had changed his robes yet again. This time they were cobalt blue, a color that looked surprisingly... good on him. Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed that the idea had even occurred to him.

When Harry returned, he wandered into the kitchen, guided by his rumbling stomach. Once there, he cast his gaze about quickly, seeking his wand. Snape stood near the counter, putting the finishing touches on a pair of plates laden with food. He levitated them to the table, where flatware and wine goblets already waited.

Luckily, there were no lit candles, or it would have too closely resembled a romantic dinner for two. Harry obediently sat down without being asked--or commanded.

Snape had created a succulent meal of roast pheasant, fennel soup, and crusty fresh-baked bread. Harry didn't bother to comment on the food, as the idea of complimenting Snape grated his nerves.

When he had polished off most of his dinner and sipped carefully from his second glass of Chenin Blanc, he looked at Snape seriously.

"What do I have to do to convince you that I'm not going to hurt your precious Malfoy? I give you my word I won't hunt the hellish bastard down, nor will I harm a single, perfect hair on his hateful, sneering head."

Snape smiled wryly. "Thank you, Potter! Your word will more than suffice, considering you've never lied to me before." His tone was over-the-top Rodney.

Harry set his jaw in annoyance, but Snape had a point. Harry had lied to him so often that telling the truth had actually become a chore.

"I'm not lying now," he snapped. "You are a bloody Legilimens; you can verify it."

"I haven't seen you in years, Potter. You may have miraculously become a skilled Occlumens during that time. A very slim chance, granted, but a chance, nevertheless."

"So you plan to live here forever?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No, just until Malfoy is safely wed."

Harry gaped at him.

"You said that was a bloody month away!"

"So it is."

"No! Absolutely not! There is no way in hell you are staying in my house acting like some sort of sexual deviant for an entire month!"

Snape's black eyes glittered--a look Harry had seen countless times before. Even now, he felt a rush of trepidation at the sight. He half-expected Snape to leap across the table at him.

"If my presence is so detestable, perhaps you would be willing to make an Unbreakable Vow?"

Harry's eyes widened and he felt a wild flare of hope at the thought of being rid of Snape for good. He nearly agreed immediately, but paused to consider the implications.

"How would it be phrased, exactly? I can't promise to leave Malfoy untouched forever. What if Ginny comes to her senses and leaves him? What if he tries to become the new Voldemort and we have to kill him? What if the Ministry wises up and realizes the world would be a better place without him?"

Snape waved away his objections.

"Come up with whatever wording you like and I'll run it by the Minister. You can even make the vow to him, if you prefer. I'll be the Bonder."

Kreacher appeared suddenly at Harry's elbow, nearly startling him out of his skin. The house-elf seemed to find such antics amusing and popped up near Harry several times a week for the sole purpose of alarming him.

"Horrible, half-blood Master?" Kreacher asked. He muttered the first two words as though Harry could not hear them and stressed the word "Master" slightly.

"What is it, Kreacher?" Harry asked with a sigh. He had tried to find a way to rid himself of the house-elf, but there seemed to be no option other than freeing him. The very idea of a freed Kreacher flitting about was more terrifying than having the horrible thing stuck in the house where Harry could keep an eye on him.

"Should Kreacher clear the table now, Master?" the house-elf asked subserviently. Harry stared at him in amazement. Kreacher had never once cleared the table during the duration of Harry's residence.

"Do you know how?" Harry asked.

Kreacher hissed a sound that might have passed as a laugh on the fifth level of hell.

"Stupid, horrid Master makes a funny joke," Kreacher murmured. He waved a hand and the dishes disappeared, including the half-full wineglass in Harry's hand.

The house-elf was gone before Harry could comment. Snape smiled slightly and sipped from his goblet--the little bastard had left Snape's glass, of course.

"Kreacher seems to like you," Harry said. "Apparently evil attracts evil."

"Time for bed, Potter, before your mouth gets you into more trouble than you can handle."

Harry pushed his chair back.

"Fine. I'll come up with an Unbreakable Vow tonight and be rid of you tomorrow."

Snape smiled enigmatically. Harry went back upstairs, somewhat disturbed by the image. He suddenly wondered why Snape had kissed him. Was it simply to screw with his head, or something more?

Harry sat at the desk in his room for awhile, scrawling on parchment.

"I, Harry Potter, promise not to kill Draco Malfoy unless specifically requested to do so by the Ministry of Magic." That was perfect, as it left out maiming and did not specify which person at the Ministry must issue the request. Harry did have friends there. Unfortunately, none with sufficient rank to assist Harry with his Snape infestation.

As if conjured by the thought, Snape entered and set a cup of tea on the desk near Harry before putting both hands on Harry's shoulders. Harry stiffened.

"Relax, Potter, you're far too tense," Snape murmured. He rested his chin on the top of Harry's head. His hands began to massage the tight spots on Harry's shoulders and neck. "That will never do, you know. It completely leaves out bodily harm and does not specify who at the Ministry may issue the request. You'll have to be much more specific."

Harry angrily crumpled the parchment.

"I think I'll go to bed now," he said. "Alone."

Snape gave his shoulders a final squeeze.

"All right, but if you change your mind, I'll be right down the hall."

He went out in with a flash of cobalt blue and Harry prayed for strength.

ooOoo

Harry lurched out of a bizarre dream that involved a collection of pint-sized Voldemorts dancing in a circle around him while singing a children's song in high-pitched voices that still managed to sound jarringly evil.

He shook off the last vestiges of it when a cry rang through the house. Harry flung himself out of bed and automatically reached for his wand on the bedside table. His finger closed on nothing and he briefly cursed Snape on his way out the door. Another shout propelled him down the hall.

The door was open and Harry rushed inside, expecting to see Snape battling something, but the Ministry agent was alone in bed, thrashing. He cried out wordlessly with one hand outstretched as if trying to repel an attack.

For a moment, Harry wondered if an invisible menace assaulted him, but it appeared Snape was merely having a nightmare. A ghastly, petrifying nightmare, Harry amended as Snape cried out in torment.

Harry paused for only an instant. He knew firsthand about nightmares. Voldemort had brought on enough to keep Harry's subconscious busy for years. He went forward and put a knee on the bed to lean over and grab Snape's bare shoulders. He barely had time to hope the man wasn't completely unclothed before strong hands wrapped around his throat.

Harry shook the shoulders hard.

"Snape, wake up!" he cried, but his voice was muted by Snape squeezing.

"No!" Snape shouted at an unseen enemy. "I can't do it any more!"

"Snape!" The hands were tightening and Harry began to see dark spots dancing before his eyes. Harry let go Snape's shoulders and reached up to pry at the fingers on his neck. "Severus! Stop!" he breathed with the last of his air.

Harry was suddenly dragged over the bed and slammed against the mattress with Snape half-atop him. The black eyes looked like pits in the darkness and a curtain of hair fell over the pale face.

Harry stopped trying to pry Snape's hands away and reached up to grab a fistful of the hair. He gave it a swift yank. His lungs were starving for air and he pulled the dark mass sharply once more. A pall of blackness crept over him.

"Potter!"

The hands were immediately gone and Harry dragged in a lungful of sweet air. A coughing spasm shook him and he heard Snape's voice as if from a distance. "What are you doing here?"

"Nightmare," Harry choked through his raw throat. "You had... nightmare."

He felt Snape collapse on his chest.

"A nightmare," Snape repeated with an expelled breath. "God, yes." A quiver wracked his frame, followed by something that might have been a sob. Unwittingly, Harry's hand dropped to Snape's back in reassurance. Snape murmured, "I might have killed you."

"I'm all right," Harry said softly. His brow wrinkled in puzzlement when his hand on Snape's flesh encountered something odd. Harry moved his hand downward over a series of bumps and ripples. He felt Snape stiffen against him.

He tried to pull away as Harry explored the raised welts in growing horror. Harry's grip tightened.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked. Harry's mind recoiled from the possibilities. No simple accident could have caused the dreadful scars that adorned Snape's back. Severus shuddered.

"The legacy of my happy childhood," Snape said raggedly. Harry felt a wave of appalled pity at the thought of a child suffering such a fate. His own wretched childhood suddenly seemed like a stint in paradise.

Snape's head moved slightly against Harry's chest and his black hair slid silkily over Harry's shoulder. He felt Snape's hands tighten convulsively against his ribs.

"What were you dreaming about?" Harry asked quietly. Snape sighed.

"Just one of a thousand pleasant memories."

He raised his head and looked at Harry.

"You shouldn't have come to rescue me. I've done so many horrible things that defiling you won't even make the list."

With that, he levered himself up and seized Harry's lips in a bruising kiss.

Author's Note: So much for humor, eh? Don't worry, it's coming back shortly... next chapter, actually!