Ensnared Chapter Seven: Comfort

A Snarry Fanfic

It’s funny how completely things can change in just a few days or even a few hours. Harry remembered times when he thought things would never change—that a year or even five could hardly make any difference. Of course, that was before he’d come to Hogwarts. Now there were so many times when his entire world had shifted in an instant, wracking up like points on a scoreboard. The latest change was of course his relationship with Severus Snape. If someone had told Harry even just a few days ago that he’d end up in the arms of the man he hated, he would have died laughing (or perhaps given the person an incredulous, disgusted look). But now here he was, descending the stairs to the dungeons without trepidation.

Ever since their inexplicable relationship had started, Harry had been going to visit Severus in his office almost every night. He found it surprisingly difficult to stay away, and Severus certainly wasn’t complaining. Usually the visits consisted of intense snogging sessions, with a break for Occlumency on Wednesdays. But sometimes they would just sit together and talk, or just enjoy each other’s company. Though they never said it, somehow they knew that both of them felt the other was the only person who could fully understand him. It was a wonderful feeling, being with someone like that, and Harry’s chest fluttered with excitement every time he went down to the dungeons.

But tonight happiness evaded Harry as he slumped down the steps. The long-anticipated Quibbler article had come out that morning, and everyone in the entire school had read it, even the teachers. The mutterings had changed from being malicious to curious. While Harry was glad of the response, it had meant a detention with Umbridge; another few hours of writing lines in his own blood, and now his time with Severus cut short. Anger and resentment fueled his footsteps, but Harry also felt something else beneath the surface—hurt. He knew he could endure the cruel punishments, the whispering and the stares, but he couldn’t help but feel the hurt these things inflicted.

When Harry got to Severus’ office he pushed open the door without knocking and hurried inside. Severus was pacing up and down in front of his desk, looking agitated. At the sound of Harry’s footsteps he looked up, and Harry could see relief flicker across his face.

“I was afraid you weren’t coming,” Severus said, stepping towards him.

“Well, here I am,” Harry said dully.

The smallest hint of a frown creased Severus’ face, and Harry tried to relax, to be his usual self, but his mood was so low he couldn’t even muster a smile.

“What’s wrong?” Severus asked, walking over to stand in front of Harry.

“Nothing,” harry muttered, eyes downcast.

Harry felt Severus’ hand grasp his chin, tilting it upward, forcing him to meet scrutinizing black eyes. Harry’s vision blurred, and Umbridge’s face swam before his eyes, along with the strange black quill and the words carved into his hand; “I must not tell lies.” Harry heard Severus’ sharp intake of breath, and the memory faded. Once again he stared up into Severus’ eyes.

Severus grabbed ahold of Harry’s left hand and pulled up upward, carefully unwinding the stained scrap of t-shirt Harry had wound around it, revealing the raw and unfading marks.

“This is what she’s been doing to you?” Severus asked, anger quivering in his voice.

Harry didn’t answer. He hadn’t wanted to tell anybody besides Ron and Hermione, but at the same time, the sympathy would be nice.

“Why haven’t you told Dumbledore about this?” Severus asked.

“Dumbledore has more important things to worry about,” Harry said, resentment barely disguised in his voice.

Severus looked thoughtfully at him, head slightly tilted, calculating.

“I can stop this,” He said quietly.

How? Harry wondered. He didn’t doubt he could, but…

“No!” He said. “I don’t want her to think she’s getting to me. I can take it.”

“I know you can,” Severus said quietly. “One moment.”

Severus dropped Harry’s hand and went to one of the shelves, examining the various bottles and packets. Eventually he selected a small bottle of some amber-colored solution, and went over to sit at his desk, beckoning Harry to join him. Harry did so, and Severus pulled him into his lap. Taking up Harry’s injured hand again, he examined it more closely. Harry flinched at the touch.

“Sorry,” Severus murmured. Then he uncorked the bottle and tipped it over a cotton ball, allowing it to soak up a generous amount of the potion. Then, ever so gently, he dabbed it over the carved words.

The stinging evaporated, and Harry sighed in surprised relief. Severus continued to dab, and Harry watched as the words faded, the skin becoming strong again. After a few minutes, Harry’s hand looked like the words had never been carved there. Satisfied, Severus tossed the cotton ball aside and put the bottle on the desk.

“Come to me after she does this,” Severus said. “Please.”

Harry nodded. “I will.”

Severus’ arms encircled him, holding him tight. Harry felt him kiss the top of his head, burying his face in the boy’s hair. Harry let himself melt into his embrace, enjoying the comfort. And why shouldn’t he? For some reason Harry couldn’t he let go of the idea that accepting comfort meant admitting weakness. But…it didn’t feel like that with Severus. Maybe it was because Severus already knew so much of his pain—shared it even—and guessed at Harry’s secret desire for comfort. And was willing to give it.

After several minutes Harry tilted his head upward, lips searching for Severus’. The man knew what he wanted and complied, bringing their mouths together. Their kiss was slow and deep, eager and yet reserved. Harry was struck by how…loving it was. He wondered, was this love? Was this what love looked like, what it felt like? Was what he and Severus had love?

“I have to leave soon,” Harry whispered. “They’ll wonder where I am.”

Severus sighed, slowly letting his arms drop, releasing Harry from their tight hold. Harry stood and stretched, making his way towards the door.

“I know you’re probably tired of hearing this,” Severus said, “but please; try not to loose your temper in that woman’s class. I can’t bear the thought you sitting there with her, carving words into your flesh, when you could be here with me.”

Harry could hardly suppress a smile. “I’ll do my best,” he said.

“Based on what I’ve seen the past five years, the assurance that you’ll do ‘your best’ doesn’t overwhelm me with confidence.”

Though it was subtle, Harry recognized the teasing note, and laughed to himself as he made his way back to Gryffindor tower.