Chapter 1 - Survivors

"Potter? What... ?"

Harry started: Snape was finally recovering full consciousness. Harry was tired of waiting there, sitting in a chair at the foot of Severus Snape's bed in St Mungo's. Two days before, Snape had emerged from his coma, and relatives and friends had been allowed into his room. However, no one had come to visit him besides McGonagall and Harry. His friends, if he had any, were probably all Death Eaters, too busy being chased by the Aurors. McGonagall, as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, couldn't stay at St Mungo's for a long time. To everyone's surprise, Harry had offered to stay with him.

It was the least he could do for the person who had saved his life, but the truth was Harry had another reason to stay.

"Snape."

"What happened?"

"You threw yourself in front of me and took the Avada Kedavra Voldemort cast on me."

"I know that, Potter. What I don't understand is... why I am alive. Unless you have died too, and we are in hell. I wouldn't be surprised if we were."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why the heck did I want you to wake up?"

"I haven't the least idea, but if you don't answer my question I... aaah!"

Snape had tried to stand up and failed, too dizzy to move. Harry put a hand on his arm.

"Stay put. You have been in coma for many days, and you only started to regain consciousness yesterday."

"What I don't understand is why I am alive," repeated Snape.

"When the Killing Curse hit you, you fell, apparently dead. But a phoenix came from the sky, landed by your side and..."

"This is stupid. No one survives an Avada Kedavra... Damn. I should have known. This must have something to do with Albus. He must have created a horcrux for me, or contrived another stratagem."

"Is this possible?"

"I don't know, Potter, but Albus never stopped meddling in my life, even after..."

Harry caught a pained look on Snape's face, and knew it wasn't just a physical pain. "Have some rest, you're still too weak," said Harry, his hand still resting on his former teacher's arm.

Snape closed his eyes and fell asleep again. Harry went back to his chair at the foot of Snape's bed and kept observing him.

Snape, ex-Death Eater, ex-Potions master and Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape, who had told Voldemort about the prophecy, hence causing the deaths of Harry's parents. Snape, Dumbledore's murderer. And now Snape, the one who saved him from Voldemort and was apparently saved by the phoenix. How many mysteries were hidden behind that inscrutable face, sometimes clouded by strong emotions that Harry couldn't decipher?

Snape became agitated, thrashing around in the bed. A nightmare, thought Harry. He had had a lot of them the previous day. Many times Harry had heard Snape begging Dumbledore not to ask him to do that, or reliving episodes of Cruciatus and other dark spells. Now Snape seemed to be reliving a very painful moment. "Lily... Forgive me... I didn't know."

Harry bit his lip and experienced a nauseous feeling. Snape... and his mother?

Harry was awakened by a shake of his shoulder and an insistent voice. "Wake up, Potter."

Harry groaned. "What is it, Snape? Leave me alone."

"Where is my wand?"

"I hid it to prevent them from taking it from you," Harry snarled.

Snape stayed quiet for a moment. "I see. I'm a prisoner here. This is St Mungo's, I suppose?"

"Yeah."

"So they will take me straight to Azkaban. Why are you here? Why aren't you celebrating with your friends, giving interviews to the Prophet, snogging your girlfriend or creating havoc?"

"Because that'd be too boring, Snape, and I'd rather stay near the man I most hate in the world waiting for him to regain consciousness."

"If you are doing this out of guilty conscience or a sense of duty, forget it. Nothing I did to defeat the Dark Lord was because of you. You can go. Leave me alone."

"I know! I know it wasn't because of me. It was because of my mother, wasn't it? You loved her."

Snape's face showed surprise, then pain, and finally anger. "That is not your business."

"I should have known. Dumbledore practically told me, but I was too young to understand."

"And you are so much mature now," said Snape, but in a tired voice, and with far less venom than usual.

Harry didn't even register the slight insult. "What was she like? No one talks to me about her."

Snape shook his head. "This can only be hell. Why else would I be here, alive, sick and having to listen to James Potter's son's questions about his mother?"

Harry sank in his chair, disheartened. "I only wanted to know what she was like."

"Potter, each person who describes her will give you a different view. You will never know how she was."

"Thank you very much. I should've known you'd give very enlightening answers."

Snape sighed. "And you think you are so mature."

Harry didn't reply, and silence stretched. When their eyes met, Snape said, "She was intelligent, fun and..." Snape averted his eyes from Harry's "... she was the only person who was brave enough to talk to me. I have always been..."

"Weird?"

Snape glared daggers at him, and didn't reply.

Lupin had said Lily was very popular. Harry could understand why a boy like Snape - Harry remembered seeing him in the pensieve, stringy and pallid like a plant kept in the dark - could fall for a girl like Lily. Harry didn't want to ask further; it would be indecent. "Let's sleep, okay? I'm tired."

Harry took off his robes and put on a nightshirt. Snape didn't take his eyes off him, and suddenly Harry felt embarrassed. He couldn't understand why - after all, they were both male - but he was too tired to think about it. He slipped beneath the blankets and turned to face Snape, who was still staring at him in the half-darkness.

"Potter, just tell me one thing," Snape said, his voice low and controlled. "You hate me. You have always hated me, and you blame me for Dumbledore's death. Then..."

"No. I don't blame you for Dumbledore's death. I blame myself."

"What nonsense is this?"

"Do you think I don't know? My friends and me did a lot of research to find the locket and destroy the spell. And we found out that that potion I forced Dumbledore to drink was a poison for which there are no antidotes. Dumbledore was going to die anyway. Because of me."

Harry closed his eyes, but opened them when he heard Snape snorting.

"Don't be an idiot. Albus was dying since he tried to destroy the horcrux spell encased into the ring and was hit by the protection spells. I could only delay his death, but he wouldn't have resisted much longer. Knowing he had only a few months of life, he devoted all his time to the search for the horcruxes, and he knew very well he wouldn't survive. He was aware that the Dark Lord had ordered Draco to kill him, and that I had been forced to make an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa. He made me promise I would kill him when the moment was right, that is to say, when he decided so. And I obeyed him, as I always did."

Each of Snape's words made Harry's heart beat faster. Harry had no reason to doubt him. He knew how Dumbledore could be persuasive and authoritative. He himself had been required to promise blind obedience to Dumbledore, which had led him to force the Headmaster to drink a potion that would end up killing him. Harry knew that what Snape was telling him was the only explanation that made sense. For a whole year, he had hated Snape more than he hated Voldemort. And now he was realising how mistaken he had been. "I'm sorry," he managed to say to the man he once loathed.

Snape closed his eyes. "I am too, Potter. More than you can imagine."

On the fourth day, Snape seemed to be feeling better, which meant he had recovered his full ability to be a prick. "Don't you have anything else to do?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be studying? Hasn't Hogwarts reopened yet?"

"I'm not going back," Harry replied.

"Are you insane? Didn't you want to be an Auror?"

"I've changed my mind."

"Potter, just because you are the Golden Boy and saved the Wizarding World again it doesn't mean you can..."

Harry lost it. "Enough! Spare me your sermons, okay? By the way, you're wrong, as always. I haven't saved anyone."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at your Mark."

Snape frowned. Then he pulled his left arm from beneath the sheets, pulled up his nightshirt sleeve and observed his Mark. It was rather pale, but it hadn't disappeared. Just like the first time Voldemort had been defeated. "How..."

"I don't know, Snape, I don't know how. I, Dumbledore and my friends destroyed all the six horcruxes: the diary, Salazar Slytherin's ring and locket, Helga Hufflepuff's cup, Rowena Ravenclaw's wand and Nagini. And we killed Voldemort. However, somehow, he's still alive."

A strange light sparked in Snape's eyes, inscrutable and lifeless until then. "There is another horcrux left intact."

"I am a horcrux," Harry snapped.

Snape lifted his upper torso, his face contorting in shock. "That is too horrible to be conceived."

"But it's true. Hermione warned me about this possibility, but I didn't want to believe it. Yet, it's the only possible explanation."

Snape pushed off the sheets and sat at the side of the bed. "Potter, take me out of here. Let's go to a safe place, just you and me."

"But you still haven't recovered completely!"

"There is no time to lose. Apparate with me, now."

Harry ran his hand through his unruly hair, not knowing what to do. Then Snape pulled him closer. "Apparate now, otherwise I will have to take more drastic measures."

"Take your hands off me," said Harry, angry, and felt a strange regret seeing Snape flinch. "Let's do this right, okay? You're sick, and if you splinch yourself, you'll be screwed."

Harry showed Snape a parchment with a statement by Aberforth Dumbledore, held Snape's arm firmly and focused on his house in Hogsmeade.

Chapter 2 - Decisions

The terraced house where Harry had lived since he had come of age was protected by a Fidelius Charm. Aberforth, the Secret Keeper, was also the owner of the house, but he preferred to live in one of the Hog's Head's rooms. The house had a small parlour, a living room and a kitchen in the ground floor; two bedrooms - one of which was piled with boxes of miscellaneous objects Aberforth had left there - and a bathroom in the first floor. There was a tiny but lush garden in the back.

Harry concentrated upon his destination, and they Apparated straight onto Harry's bed, because Snape wasn't supposed to be on his feet yet. Harry had heard the Trainee Healer telling Snape that morning that he needed to rest, otherwise he risked slipping into coma again.

"What a mess," Snape complained, sweeping his eyes over Harry's bedroom. Indeed, there was an open trunk on the floor and things scattered all over.

"I'm sorry, Snape, but I don't have house-elves working for me, and I had no time to clean the house for you," Harry snapped, standing up and adjusting the pillow and the blankets so that Snape could lie down.

But Snape wasn't taking any of that. "Stop it. Sit down. We have decisions to make."

"You must stay in bed!"

"The destiny of the Wizarding World depends upon our next decision and you choose precisely this moment to be concerned with such a trifle as my well-being?"

Harry couldn't help a half-smile. "I am special, you know."

Snape glared at him. "Special or not, you have very few options. The wisest one would be to kill me now."

"To kill you?" Harry looked at him astonished, and then smirked. "Great. The idea of getting rid of you is quite interesting and satisfying. There's just one problem: I don't know how this would help me to finish Voldemort for good."

"Very funny, Potter. However, I hope you are mature enough to understand how grave the situation is. What I am proposing here is that you kill me and create a horcrux with my death."

His blood freezing in his veins and making him dizzy, Harry sat at the edge of the bed. "You want me to kill you and create a horcrux? N-no. No way."

"Don't be foolish. Why not?"

"This is the Dark Arts at their worst."

"And you are too pure for the Dark Arts." Snape snorted. "Dumbledore's man through and through."

"Well, I'm very proud of it!"

Snape sighed. "I should have known. You, Gryffindors, are a pain-in-the-neck."

"Oh, you are Slytherin through and through." Harry's voice dripped sarcasm. "Sacrificing yourself for the others is a typical Slytherin trait."

"We do what we have to do, when the time is right."

"Really? Then you won't mind if I ask you to kill me. Because that's the right thing to do. If you kill me now, it's the end of Voldemort. I suppose he hasn't found a lackey to give him a new body yet; it's not an easy spell, and his closest friends are all dead, imprisoned in Azkaban or hiding from the Aurors. But he'll find someone eventually. If we wait too long, we'll lose the opportunity."

"Exactly. That's why I'm saying we have to do it now."

"So you agree to do it?"

"To kill you? Of course not."

"Why not? You agreed to kill Dumbledore, who was your mentor and protector. Why not me, the son of your enemy, the obnoxious brat who only causes you problems?"

Snape's lips curved in a sardonic smile. "It's a very tempting proposal, Potter. I am afraid I will have to reject it, though. I have a life debt with your mother."

"With my mother? I thought it was with my father."

"Your father saved my life, it's true. However, as I have already told you, there wasn't anything noble in his act, considering he and his friends were the responsible for that very attempt of murdering me. It was your mother who made him go and save me. He would not have gone if Lily hadn't insisted."

Ah. Finally that old story started to make sense to Harry. Hearing Snape talking about his mother disturbed him. At first, Harry had thought it was because he had always idealised his parents' relationship, and had never imagined there could have been someone else in the life of either of them. Besides, it was highly disturbing to think that Snape, of all people, could have been that person. But now Harry was starting to realise there was another feeling growing within him, a feeling he couldn't understand very well: he was jealous of the obsessive love Snape devoted to his mother.

"Couldn't you pay this bloody debt by doing me the favour of killing me?" Harry asked ironically.

"I doubt your mother would be happy with that proposal."

Harry sighed. "Then we're at a dead end."

"There is a third way out of our impasse."

"What is it?"

"I can try to remove the piece of soul the Dark Lord encased in you."

Harry widened his eyes. "Is that possible?"

"Honestly, Potter, I don't know. I know, as much as you, how to remove the horcrux spell from objects. Albus explained the process to me in detail. When he considered the hypothesis of Nagini being a horcrux, he confessed he didn't know whether the removal would kill the snake or not."

"I... killed Nagini first, and removed the spell later," said Harry, dispirited.

"You did well. It was the most logical and practical way."

"Yes, but we still don't know if we can remove the spell from a living being whilst keeping them alive." Harry gave a deep breath. "Unfortunately, there's no other way, and no time to lose. Let's do it."

"There is no time to lose, but we should not be hasty. You must understand what might happen and be prepared. When I cast the removal spell over you, the piece of soul the Dark Lord put inside you might fragment itself and spread through your body. And your body might reject it; your soul might be unable to stand it, the same way the Dark Lord's soul couldn't possess you due to... certain particular traits of your soul."

Love, thought Harry, not without a dose of irony. "So what can I do?"

"Be mentally prepared for this inner fight, and clear your mind. Perhaps more than a single attempt will be necessary to remove the piece of the Dark Lord's soul from you; I will cast healing spells to minimise the effects upon you, and try not to cause you much stress."

"Right," said Harry, taking Snape's wand out of his pocket and handing it to him, shaking a little when he remembered all the times Snape had told him to "clear his mind" without any result.

Chapter 3 - Expellianimula

Severus knelt in front of Harry, touched his scar with the tip of his wand and cast the spell. "Expellianimula!"

Harry shouted with all the might of his voice and lungs, and clung to Severus. Closing his eyes, Severus concentrated his mind and started chanting the healing spell. It was an intense spell, and required all Severus's power of empathy and compassion. Or love in its wider sense: Agape. When the mental connection was established, Severus felt lighter, as if he were floating in the infinite space. A sense of peace and belonging swept over him.

Feeling Harry relax in his arms, Severus opened his eyes. Harry had lost consciousness. Severus disentangled himself carefully from Harry's arms and laid him on his bed. Severus had barely straightened up when Harry started to convulse. The green eyes rolled up and his back arched off the bed. Harry began to shake violently, limbs flailing wildly. To prevent him from falling down or hurting himself, Severus lay on top of him, pinning his arms and legs to the bed. After about two minutes, Harry stopped thrashing. Severus sat on the bed beside him. Pulling the young man up against himself, Severus folded his arms across him, holding Harry's back against his chest. This way, if Harry had another seizure, Severus could control his upper body, protecting his head and neck. The legs could kick and thrash all they wanted. Severus was exhausted. Besides not being fully recovered from the Killing Curse, the spells he had to cast over Harry and the effort to prevent Harry from hurting himself had drained his last bit of strength. In spite of all the tension he was feeling, Severus fell asleep holding Harry firmly against his body.

Severus awakened about half an hour later. Harry was still unconscious, but breathing steadily and easily. Severus looked at his own arm and saw that the Mark hadn't disappeared, but had paled further. He sighed. Unfortunately, the nightmare hadn't ended.

Harry mumbled and opened his eyes. "What is it?"

"It seems the piece of soul has been only partially destroyed. We will have to repeat the spell."

Dismay reflected in the young man's face. "I'm so tired!"

"We will not do it now. I am drained too. We must regain strength. Do you have anything edible here, Potter?"

Harry tried to rise up, but Severus held him down. "Don't move. Stay in bed. Or rather... Wingardium Leviosa!" Severus made Harry levitate along with the mattress and propped the bed up against the wall. Then he lowered the mattress to the floor.

"Why did you do that?"

"You had a seizure. If it happens again, you will not fall off your bed."

"Oh, shit... Will it ever end?"

"Language, Potter. Behave yourself and stay in your bed. I will search your kitchen for something to cook for us."

Severus was already on the threshold when he heard Harry calling him. "Snape!"

"What is it?"

"The garden. You're going to love the garden."

Indeed, the garden was like an oasis in the desert, and would be their salvation. With what he gathered there, Severus could prepare a good vegetable broth. In the kitchen, he found a packet of crackers. It wasn't exactly a feast, but he and Harry were not up to heavy meals.

There were also many herbs in the garden, ingredients that could be used to concoct healing potions. Severus gathered camomile, mugwort, ginger, hellebore, and a moonstone he found on the ground. He wouldn't be able to prepare a Calming Potion or even an Invigoration Draft, but with those ingredients he could make up a potion that would be calming and invigorating at the same time. The cauldron Harry used at school was inside the trunk in Harry's bedroom, and Severus summoned it from the kitchen.

Half an hour later, Severus levitated two trays, each with a bowl of broth, a plate of crackers and a mug of potion to Harry's bedroom. He helped Harry sit up and arrange himself comfortably, then set a tray on Harry's lap. He put his own tray on the dresser, cast a Pack spell to put all scattered things into the trunk, turned a chair to face Harry, sat on it and started to eat his broth.

"I didn't know you could cook," Harry said. "It's tasty!"

"I am not a Chef, but I can certainly cook. I don't have a house-elf working for me either. In Spinner's End, I mean."

"You shouldn't be taking care of me. You need medical care too."

"If I go back to St Mungo's, they will take me to Azkaban immediately."

"I know. I reckon they only let me stay with you because I hinted I might, you know, watch over you while I was there. They were freaking scared of you and what you might do when you recovered consciousness. Blimey, you've survived a Killing Curse!"

Severus himself couldn't understand how he had done it. But there was something else that Severus couldn't understand. "Why did you want to stay with me?"

Harry swallowed the cracker he was munching. "When you were hit by Voldemort's Avada Kedavra and the phoenix was gone, I approached you. I noticed you were alive, but also that the Mark hadn't disappeared completely. I was intrigued. While you were in coma, I thought about everything that had happened and concluded that Hermione's theory about me being a horcrux must be right. Then I decided to stay in St Mungo's and talk to you. I hoped you would know more about it."

Severus pondered. "I didn't know. I don't even know if he knew."

"Could it have been involuntary?"

"If he planned to create a horcrux with your death and Lily cast a spell to protect you, perhaps something has gone wrong and he hasn't even realised. But now he must know."

Harry finished his broth, and Severus made him drink the potion. Severus also drank his. When they emptied their mugs, Severus cast a cleaning spell and a Banishing Charm to send the dishes back to the kitchen.

Then Severus conjured another mattress, with sheets, blankets and pillow, beside Harry's, and lay down. "Perhaps we should call another member of the Order to try and remove the piece of the Dark Lord's soul from you. I am not at my best, and we may take several days to do it," said Severus, sleepily staring at Harry.

"I don't want to call anyone else. You're the best. I know you are."

"Stubborn and irritating as always," Severus grumbled, not without a bit of pride for the trust the young man put in him.

Chapter 4 - Exorcism

Harry's memories of those days when they were going through the "exorcism", as they had started to call it, were very hazy. In the morning, Snape would bring him tea and toast. After they had tea, Snape would cast the removal spell. Harry always felt as if he had been suddenly thrown through the air: a chill and a sinking feeling in his stomach, and a sense of being blown to bits. The healing spells that followed felt like Snape was caressing his very soul. The weirdest thing of all was that Harry felt very close to Severus at those moments, and longed for them. Then Harry would lose consciousness and wake up in Severus's arms after one or more seizures, feeling supported, comforted, protected and... very confused.

He was beginning to get used to waking up enveloped by Snape's body, smelling Snape's scent, hearing Snape's breath and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and that sensation was not unpleasant in the least. On the contrary; nothing had ever felt more right.

Harry would stay in bed until midday, when Snape would bring him lunch. In the afternoon, Harry usually felt better and managed to get up and help Snape with the house chores.

On the second day Snape spent in Harry's house, Snape transfigured his nose, eyebrows and hair to go out and buy groceries and ingredients for potions. Harry almost choked of laughter when he saw Snape with a snub nose and strawberry blonde hair.

"You should do that in Hogwarts. This way no one would talk about your big nose or your greasy hair. Hm... On second though, it's still greasy..."

Snape glared daggers at him. Harry could almost hear him saying "ten points from Gryffindor", and pitied his former teacher, now disarmed and helpless to the point of having to swallow his pride and accept Harry's money.

Each day Snape's Mark became paler.

Each day Harry felt closer to Snape.

At night, they each slept on their own mattress, side by side; Snape in a green nightshirt he had transfigured from one of Harry's t-shirts, and Harry in his pyjamas.

On the third night, Harry had a dreadful nightmare. He dreamt Voldemort had come back and was killing Snape, not with a Killing Curse, but with repeated Cruciatus curses, and Harry couldn't do anything, because Voldemort had cast a Freezing Charm on him.

He woke up with Snape shaking him. "Potter! It's just a dream."

When Harry saw Snape, he grabbed his upper arm tightly. "You're alive."

Snape stared at him, intrigued. "What have you been dreaming of, Potter?"

"It was horrible, I don't want to tell you." Harry stayed silent for a few moments. "Er... do you have to call me Potter? You say it with so much hate."

"It's out of habit."

"You mean you don't hate me?"

Snape made an impatient movement. "What do you think?"

"That if you hated me, you wouldn't help me like this."

"I have already told you; it is not for you that I am here."

"Yeah. I'm not special or important. I know. But would you do the same, if you hated me?"

"Stop it. I never hated you."

"Oh, you were quite convincing, at Hogwarts."

"I always knew I would have to go back and spy on the Dark Lord. I had to pretend to despise you." Snape sneered. "I daresay it wasn't a difficult task, though."

"Git."

"I had enough of your insults and your silly chatter. Now let me sleep."

When Harry awakened, Snape was still asleep, his face turned to him. Snape's expression was calm - at least calmer than usual. Harry remembered his nightmare, and his heart shrunk. Almost unconsciously, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Snape's face. Yes, it was greasy. Snape washed it almost every day and it was still greasy. Harry squirmed closer to him, felt his warmth, smelled his scent, and let his hand rest on his hair.

Snape wasn't handsome at all, but he was attractive in a mysterious way. And when Harry thought of everything Snape had done and was doing for him, he felt a deep gratitude and tenderness. And also a strong desire to touch him.

Snape opened his eyes and Harry froze. Realising he had his hands on Snape's hair and probably a very stupid look in his face, Harry blushed. Snape frowned. Harry removed his hand. Snape narrowed his eyes at him, but none of them said anything, and Snape fell asleep again.

What was happening with him? What did he want? For Snape to grab him, kiss him and declare his undying love for him? But Harry wasn't gay, or was he? And Ginny? Harry loved Ginny, didn't he?

Harry was very, very confused.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, Harry was feeling much better. The Mark was now only a pale shadow on Snape's arm. They were having tea when an owl arrived bringing a message from McGonagall to Harry, saying everyone was concerned because he had disappeared, and urging him to return to Hogwarts and finish his studies.

"She is absolutely right," Snape commented. "Classes are starting now. You still can go back and..."

"Are you going to go back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"I? I have never contemplated the possibility of surviving this war. This hadn't changed: my future is the Dementor's kiss."

"They don't use Dementors any more."

"Then I will be executed, or imprisoned in Azkaban for life."

"You won't be. You're a git, but I won't let 'em."

Snape snorted. "Always thinking you have the world at your feet. How typical of you, Potter."

Harry smiled. Snape's insults didn't bother him any more, because he knew they were part of his intrinsic snarkiness; there was no intention to hurt.

"I killed the villain, didn't I? With your help, I admit." Harry gave a condescending smile. "You didn't answer the question, as always..."

"Will I return to Hogwarts? After all that happened?" Snape flinched visibly. "No. I wouldn't want to live at Hogwarts with all those reminders. I wouldn't be able to live with the memories of Albus. It would be too terrible. I really... didn't expect to live."

Harry put down his cup and placed his hand on Snape's, squeezing it slightly. Snape cast him a surprised look, and kept staring at him. Harry felt him probing his mind, and let him. He had never learned Occlumency, and Snape's probing didn't bother him. He wanted Snape to understand his feelings.

Snape frowned, and a slight flush coloured his face. "Foolish Gryffindor," said Snape, turning his hand beneath Harry's and interlacing their fingers. "And you? What are you going to do with your life?"

Snape was slowly tracing the back of Harry's hand with his fingertips. Harry needed all his control not to moan aloud.

"I don't know. I want to help people, but I'm tired of fighting dark wizards."

"You could learn to break dark spells and curses."

"Like you do?"

Their eyes met again, and there was a fire so intense sparkling in Snape's eyes that Harry had to avert his eyes, lest he would burn... But then he focused on Snape's lips, and he felt lost, because all he could think of was how they would feel against his.

Snape's voice awakened him from his reverie. "When I rejoined the side of the Order, Albus taught me Occlumency, Legilimency and healing spells. He used to say I had... the phoenix gift." Snape squeezed Harry's hand gently. "I never managed to teach you anything, but if you are willing, I can teach you how to heal most dark spells."

Harry could only nod. He had never felt anything like what he was feeling for Snape right now. He was speechless, and his heart pounded wildly. Snape stood up and started clearing the table, and Harry swallowed hard.

On that night, when Harry slipped beneath the blankets, Snape, who was lying in bed reading an academic journal on Potions he had bought the day before, set the journal down and turned to face Harry. Once again, the dark eyes probed him mercilessly, burning him so intensely that Harry had to close his eyes. Then Snape's lips brushed his gently, even hesitatingly. Harry put his hand on the back of Snape's neck to hold him there. For a long moment, their lips just touched, warm, soft, pliable, making Harry long for more. The initial surprise - Snape was kissing him! - gave place to arousal, and Harry parted his lips to let Snape's tongue slither inside. Almost hesitatingly, Harry's tongue slid into Snape's mouth, tasting it, exploring it, meeting Snape's tongue in a sensual dance and flicking teasing strokes against his teeth and soft palate.

Eyes closed, Harry savoured the sensations spreading from his mouth to the rest of his body. He ran his hands down Snape's arms from the broad shoulders to the slim waist, tracing the firm muscles beneath the nightshirt. Harry didn't know where to focus - on Snape's hands roaming his body, on the soft lips pressed to his, or on the heat and pressure gathering in his groin.

Harry moaned. Snape tore his lips from his and rolled a bit to the side. "Is this all right?"

"Yes," Harry panted.

Snape leant his head. Harry thought he was going to kiss him again, but the thin lips found his earlobe, and Harry whimpered. Snape flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin, then moved up around the curve of his ear, licking it thoroughly, sending tremors all through Harry's body. Snape blew gently in his ear, then slid his tongue down inside, mapping the ridges of skin. Harry couldn't swallow the moans evoked by the caresses.

Snape pulled down the blankets and lay beside Harry, pulling him into another kiss. This time Harry felt arousal surge with an almost unbearable strength. More than that: he felt Snape's erection pressing against his. The realisation that he was exchanging caresses with another man hit him, but excitement overcame inhibition. It was too much; Harry didn't know how to handle all this.

Snape tugged at the hem of his pyjama shirt, and Harry helped him to lift it up over his head. The glow of the single lamp they had left lit touched Harry's chest, allowing Harry to see the enraptured look on Snape's face. Harry had never found himself attractive, but that look convinced him that, at least at that moment, to Snape, he was the most attractive man in the world. Snape touched his chest almost reverently. Harry tugged at Snape's nightshirt and Snape got rid of it in no time.

Harry had only a glimpse of Snape's well-defined chest before Snape was all over him, capturing his lips and delving into his mouth.

Now their bare chests were touching skin-to-skin, and sensations magnified tenfold. Snape slowly licked the curve of Harry's neck and collarbone while his hands traced random patterns on Harry's back. Harry savoured Snape's caresses, whimpering and arching towards him. When Snape slid down the waistband of his pyjama pants and grabbed his buttocks with both hands, Harry kicked his pants down his legs and pressed his erection against Snape's thighs. Then Snape curled his fingers around Harry's cock, and Harry bit his lower lip not to moan in pleasure.

"Do you like that?" Snape asked in a low and hoarse whisper.

"Oh, God," Harry managed to say.

Snape captured his lips again, deft hand sliding slowly down Harry's length. Harry slipped a hand inside Snape's briefs and found his cock fully hard, dripping pre-come; Harry wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed it, rubbing his thumb over its tip. Snape let out a needy whimper, thrusting his hips towards Harry's. Harry took out Snape's cock and they started to rub their cocks together. Snape hooked a leg over Harry's hip, grinding their bodies, crushing him, biting and sucking his nipples and pumping their cocks using their pre-come as lube. Snape stroked harder and harder until Harry's cock started to throb and his whole body twitched, spurting his seed over both their hands. Snape milked him until every last drop. When Harry came back to his senses, Snape was observing him, a half-smile on his lips. Harry closed his hand around Snape's cock again and devoted all his attention to it, pumping it rhythmically, pressing its tip with the thumb, rolling Snape's balls with the other hand. Snape's breath became faster and uneven as Harry's hand moved quicker and quicker up and down Snape's length and gently over the tip. Finally, Snape groaned and, thrusting against Harry's hand one last time, shuddered in climax, tilting his head back and arching his hips.

Harry held him against his body and fell asleep listening to his heartbeat as it slowly returned to normal.

On the following day, Harry felt perfectly well after the "exorcism" session, except for a slight sleepiness. When Snape finished casting the healing spell and looked at his own arm, his face brightened. Seeing that the Mark had completely disappeared, they embraced each other in celebration. As on the previous night, they stroked each other and came in each other's hands.

Sated and sleepier than ever, Harry fell asleep.

When he woke up, he couldn't find Snape anywhere.

Trying not to panic and failing miserably, Harry Apparated to the Hog's Head. The tall, thin old man with long grey hair and a beard greeted him from behind the counter.

"Harry! What evils bring you here?"

"Snape has disappeared."

"Haven't you read the extra edition of the Prophet?"

Aberforth took a copy of the Prophet from a counter shelf and handed it to Harry. The headlines said "Dumbledore's Murderer Surrenders".

"Oh, no. Why didn't he warn me?" Harry lifted his eyes to Aberforth. "Thanks, Aberforth, I'll have to go to the Ministry."

"Wait a little," Aberforth grumbled. "I'll go with you."

TBC > part II