A Light Untouched, part three

[lesyeuxverts]

Title: A Light Untouched
Author: lesyeuxverts
Pairings: Severus/Lucius, Lucius/Narcissa, Severus/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Length: 51,500 words, give or take a few
Warnings: AU, non-con (not in main pairings), dub-con, character death, torture, infidelity, bondage, rimming, dirty talk, first time, sex toys, semi-public sex, foodsmut, minor hints at D/s, underage where the age of consent is 18
Summary: "Redemption came in the space between breaths, in the jarring impact of coincidence, in the patient toil of years – for Severus Snape, it came when he met Harry Potter, the culmination of his life's work brought to glory in an instant."
AN: Written for klynie1 in the 2007 reversathon. She requested: "Snape/Harry AU - A chance meeting in a taxicab leads to love. Rating is writer's choice. Please, no Harry or Snape death."
Many, many thanks and grateful smooches to schemingreader, virginie_m, gingertart50, brightfeather, and snarry_fan7! I owe a debt of gratitude to each and every one of you, and also to the marvelous people who bounced ideas for me and gave me encouragement to write this.



Severus felt it, sometimes in the night – a stirring of darkness that brushed against his Mark, the creeping chill that washed across his skin. His Master was there, dissipated and weak, washed into obscure hiding by the supernova that had destroyed his Horcruxes. His Master was still there, whispering promises and power to Severus, tempting him in the night.

With rumors of the Death Eaters regrouping, and the attempt to return Voldemort to a corporeal form – rumors carried straight from Lucius's confidence to Albus's ear, and thence to the Ministry – it didn't take long for the Aurors to find Harry Potter, with his magic bursting into full flower when he reached his majority. It hadn't taken long for Severus to find Harry, bumping into him outside the Ministry.

It hadn't taken long for the Aurors to reclaim Potter, luring him away from Severus with flattery and promises. It hadn't taken them long to seduce Potter with promises of controlling the magic that had haunted his life – around the corner and out of reach, an unexplained itch that persisted in spite of the strictures of the gray world he had been forced to live in.

Severus rose from the comfortable chintz armchair, striding over to the hotel bathroom. Turning on the hot water, he scrubbed every trace of Potter's touch from his hands. He washed away the delicious tickle of magic and the itch of light that lingered on his skin and tormented him.

His cloak still hummed with Harry's magical signature, an echo that sizzled Severus's nerves when he reached for it – this was Harry's essence, darkness alleviated by light, sin washed away and redeemed. This was his magic, his signature despite all of his flaws. Severus hesitated and put the cloak on, twirling the fabric around him in a dramatic billow as he left the room.

Lucius was waiting for him in the Leaky Cauldron, silver-handled cane tapping an irregular beat against the ground. "It certainly took you long enough," he said.

"Forgive me. The conference ran longer than I had anticipated, as I stayed to talk with one of the speakers." Severus made no mention of the fact that he'd found Potter, that he'd tasted the aura of innocence and purity that still lingered in the air where Potter had sat on his sofa.

He did not shudder at Lucius's touch, he did not break away to hide in the shadows, and he did not protest when Lucius put a hand at the small of his back and guided him to the Floo.

"Your hotel room, or the Manor?" Lucius asked. "Narcissa is back in town – I imagine that she's at home."

Severus hid a frown at the thought of Lucius sensing Harry's presence in his room. "I've already checked out of the hotel," he said.

He followed Lucius through the Floo, closing his eyes at the seasick whirligig motion and landed with a sure step, stepping out of the hearth and dusting his robes clean with a spell.

Pearl-gray and marble-white, the foyer in Malfoy Manor was marred only by Narcissa's scowl. Severus handed his cloak to a house elf, meeting Narcissa's scowl with equanimity.

She sniffed and turned away, her gauzy robes billowing around her like a fat fairy's costume. She paused at the bottom of the staircase. "If you insist on entertaining that dirty half-blood here, Lucius, do give me some warning. I prefer to remain unsoiled."

She glared at Severus, but this was a battle they had fought long ago, and Severus had ceased to fight. He gave her a graceful half-bow, stepping away from her husband. "A pleasure, as always, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa fingered her wedding ring and smirked at Severus, leaving him alone with her husband. "I'll be in the master bedroom this evening," she said.

Lucius laughed as she left, blowing her a kiss up the stairs and then turning to Severus. "I do love to watch the two of you fight over me."

Lucius – when he dropped the mask, the pretense and the propriety, his darkness was insidious, addictive. Severus could not pull away from it, could not resist his appeal. "I do love to fuck you in her bed," he said, stepping closer and nibbling on Lucius's earlobe.

"None of that," Lucius said, sidestepping the kiss. He led Severus into the parlor, pouring two brandies from the crystal decanter on the sideboard and gesturing him to a chair. "We have serious business to talk about tonight."

Severus raised an eyebrow, and Lucius smiled at him. "We need to devise a plan to kill Harry Potter."

Taking a large gulp of his brandy, Severus set the glass down with a clink. "We need to what?"

Light and innocence, the radiant aura that surrounded Harry still taunted Severus. His damnation, his penance and redemption – there was no suppressing the shiver that ran down Severus's spine at the thought of Harry's death, at the loss of his penance.

"We need to kill him to pave the way for our Master's return," Lucius said. "It's obvious, Severus – I can't believe that you haven't suggested it yourself."

The brandy made Severus's voice ragged, the alcohol burning its way down his throat. "Perhaps I prefer to remain in our Master's good graces," he said. "Taking his revenge from him seems the swiftest path to a Crucio."

"You don't know that our Master will be displeased, and you don't know that he'll be able to return, if Potter is still alive in the world."

"An untrained wizard no better than a Squib? Please, Lucius. Any wizard worth the name would have been to Hogwarts and not rotted away in the Muggle world ... Potter can't levitate a feather or light a candle, much less pose a danger to our Lord."

"He knew how to do neither the night that he defeated our Lord, Severus. Don't underestimate him."

Severus took another gulp of brandy, choking back a cough. "If I were you, Lucius, I would rather not underestimate our Lord's need for vengeance, or the punishment he will exact on those who deprive him of it."

"You're surprisingly vehement in your defense of the boy."

Harry ... Severus unclenched each muscle, leaning back in his chair and forcing a sardonic smile on his face. "I'm vehement in the defense of my own skin, as any Slytherin would be. Having felt the power of our Lord's Crucio, I've no desire to repeat the experience more than necessary."

Severus's façade was broken when Narcissa waltzed into the room, a silk-sheer negligee showing more of her body than it hid, her dressing gown half-off her shoulders and trailing behind her. She struck a pose, legs parted, one hand on her hip. "Lucius, aren't you coming to bed?"

Lucius stood at once, drawn to her as always. He cupped her chin in his hands and drew her into a tender kiss – a pale shadow of love, nothing like the fierce passion that he showed with Severus. "Shortly, my dear. We were just discussing business."

"I'll just show myself out," Severus said. He Summoned his cloak and swept it around his shoulders with a flourish, nodding once to Narcissa and to Lucius. Any excuse to be away from the man threatening Harry Potter – Severus would take any excuse to avoid watching Lucius paw over Narcissa, to escape the display of their sickening, stultifying relationship.

"We'll talk more tomorrow then," Lucius said. He traced his wife's collarbone, dipping down into the valley between her breasts and leaning forward for a kiss.

With Severus, Lucius was fire and oil, an instant combustion – with Narcissa, it was a paler passion, a perfect, ornamental dream that was no less vivid or real. Lucius was dark, but smooth and decorative – he fit with Narcissa, snuggling into the curve of her arms, just as he fit into Severus's embrace and just as he pounded into Severus's arse.

Fire and oil, passion with bruises and love-bites – the darkness in Lucius made Severus shiver, but it was more than that. It was enough to threaten Severus's grasp on the light.

It was enough to extinguish his salvation, enough to threaten Harry. "No, that won't be necessary," Severus said, his voice as cold as ice and his scowl enough to crack winter. He slipped past the kissing couple into the entryway.

Lucius came after him, one hand rough on his shoulder. "What the fuck do you mean? You won't be here to talk tomorrow? You won't help me eliminate the boy?"

"I mean that I thought you had more class than to kiss one lover in front of another," Severus said.

Lucius grabbed his other shoulder, shaking him and pulling him close. "Severus, what is your problem? You've never reacted this way to seeing me with Narcissa before."

Severus broke away from his kiss, broke away from the fingers that grasped at him, fumbling to retain him. "I'm tired of being your dirty secret, your recourse for sex with Narcissa is out of town."

"Severus, you ..." Lucius fumbled for his wand, looking over his shoulder at Narcissa. She stood framed in the doorway, her hair tousled, a sleepy seductive pout on her lips, and her negligee slipped down to bare her breasts. "If you mean those allegations with intent to blackmail, I assure you ..."

Severus wrenched himself away and escaped into the marble hearth, ducking away from Lucius and into the green swirl of the Floo.

It was a world of whirling, an eternity of nausea and banged elbows – Severus took a deep breath, the fire tickling his lungs. Away from Lucius and his dark seduction, and back to the safe haven of Hogwarts, he spun in an uneasy freefall, feet first and eyes closed.

Albus blinked when Severus stumbled out of his Floo, sooty and disheveled from his struggle with the wards. "What ...?"

"Headmaster," Severus said, Banishing the soot and striding over to the door.

"Wait, Severus."

Fawkes gave a low croon and launched himself from his perch, fluttering around the room and swooping low, his feathers brushing Severus's shoulder. The touch and song were enough to erase the bruises that Lucius had left. Severus froze, and then he reached up to touch Fawkes, turning back to face Albus.

"You're welcome to use the Floo in my office at any time, of course, but when you return in such a condition, and at such a late hour ... I must admit, I am concerned for you."

Severus scowled, catching the cup of tea that floated through the air to bump into his chest. "Albus, I am not ..."

"You're not happy at Hogwarts, and I know that," Albus said. "At first I hoped it would pass, that you would come to like teaching ... but after seven years, that's not very likely, is it?"

The chintz armchair chased Severus around the office – he froze it with a wordless spell and continued to pace. "Albus, really ..."

"Sherbet lemon?"

"No, thank you." Severus stalked over to the door again, wincing when his hand was stung by the ward surrounding the doorknob. "Headmaster, I really must protest ..."

"I think that what you need is a change of pace, Severus. A new schedule, a new friend ... a new life, perhaps. The war is over and it's time for you to move on."

Darkness swirled around Severus like his cloak as he spun around to face Albus. It still shuddered through him, spreading out through his bones and blood from the Dark Mark – without the darkness from Lucius, without the pull of the Horcruxes and without the Mastery of Lord Voldemort, it was still there. For all that Albus had tried to save him, for all of the penance that Albus had imposed upon him, it was an indelible mark on his soul.

"You do not know what I need," he said. "Let me leave this room at once."

The door opened with a click, and Albus waved him out. "I'll have the house elves send a tray down to your rooms for you, then – I'll wager that you've missed dinner again. Have a pleasant evening, Severus."

With brandy and tea mingled in his breath and with a heavy soul, Severus stalked down to the dungeon. His only comfort was the cloak that he wrapped around him against the damp stone chill that seeped through the lower levels of the castle – the cloak that warmed and comforted him still, fibers of darkness stilling the ache in his darkness. Harry had almost touched it. With his presence, Harry had alleviated the darkness and lifted it up into the sparkling sky – darkness kissed with flares of light, with eternal blinking stars, and the cloak was more comfort now than it had been before.

Albus was unrelenting in his pursuit of Severus's happiness. He made the trek down to the dungeons, laden with tea and chocolates, entering Severus's chambers without a knock. A bouncy house elf trailed behind him, levitating a tray of pastries and squeaking in its happy, shrill voice. "Excellent, thank you," Albus said, and the house elf disappeared with a smile and a pop.

"Now, well," he said. He settled himself in the armchair closest to the fire, pouring two cups of tea and floating one over to Severus. A clinking procession followed it – sugar, lemon, milk, a plate of biscuits, but Severus waved them all back to the table nearest Albus.

"I have to tell you," he said, "that I will no longer be able to spy for you on the affairs of Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. He brushed aside Severus's spluttering with a wave of his hand and took another sip of his tea. Light radiated from him, serene and full, like waves coming home to the shore.

"You aren't upset to have lost all inside information into the Death Eaters' plans?"

"There are other ways of gathering information, ones that don't put you at risk."

The fire crackled in the hearth, the sparks enhancing the twinkle in Albus's eyes. "I told you, Severus, I'm concerned for your happiness now. The war is far behind us, and there's no need for you to remain caught up in darkness and spying and those melodramatic poses that you strike while teaching."

"You mean that I am not needed, now that you've found Potter and convinced him to be trained. You'll have him do your bidding, slaughtering the remaining Death Eaters and putting an end any attempt that they make to resurrect the Dark Lord." Severus's stomach turned at the thought, and he set his teacup aside.

"Those are remote possibilities – but yes, Harry is here, should he be needed again." Albus waved a biscuit in the air, spraying chocolate crumbs down his long beard.

"Needed? He's a boy, not a tool."

No amount of vitriol fazed Albus – he smiled, gentle as a breeze, and brushed away Severus's objections. "Harry is hardly a boy, Severus. He's seventeen and old enough to know his own mind."

"He's unprepared – he's unfamiliar with our world and unaware of the consequences his actions can have here. I won't let you take advantage of him."

Albus raised an eyebrow, and Severus fumbled with his teacup, taking a deep sip and using it to hide his face for a moment. "Then you must be anxious to see that he's properly prepared to deal with the wizarding world," Albus said. "Excellent – I think that has the potential to make you happy at last, Severus, and you will be a superb teacher for him. I was about to suggest it as the change in your schedule."

"Teach Harry Potter? Albus, you must be joking." Severus set the teacup down, shaking his head – though he had no doubt that in the end, Dumbledore would have bullied and badgered him into agreeing to tutor Harry in potions after his regular classes. Denial was useless, but compliance was unthinkable. He could not teach Harry.

It was additional work for Severus, and as tedious as the first year courses – teaching Harry Potter, as ignorant as Lily when she first set foot in Slughorn's class, as stubborn as James, with all his faults, and as innocent as a Muggle. He would be no joy to teach – he would be nothing more than another brick in the wall of penance that Severus built around himself.

"Kingsley has already spoken to me about it," Albus said. "He was impressed with the way that you dealt with Harry and thinks that you'd be a good teacher for him. Harry trusts you, it seems."

"We shared a taxi and that is all." Severus waited, but Albus made no attempt to contradict him – he waited, but the rapid thrumming of his heartbeat did not subside. "He is young and impressionable. He would trust anyone in exchange for a kind word and some chocolates."

"Perhaps he will learn to be more cautious if you take him under your wing. You have more to teach him than just potions, you know."

Taking a deep breath, Severus said, "You haven't asked me why I can no longer serve as your spy among the Death Eaters."

"Is it relevant?" Albus shook his head, taking another biscuit. "I was going to tell you that there was no further need, at any rate."

"No further need? The Death Eaters have not been eliminated. They still pose a threat ... they are plotting to kill Harry Potter, Headmaster."

"But that comes as no surprise, you see. The Death Eaters have no cunning, no startling strategies, nothing but desperation and a very few options left. We don't need you to put your life at risk in order to tell us what we can easily divine, and I would not have you risk yourself needlessly."

Albus's concern washed over him, a brief flicker in his mind when their gazes connected – the brush of Legilimency against his mind, the touch used to reassure and encourage. "It is time for you to make a new life for yourself, Severus. Be of the light now, and put the darkness behind you."

In the back of his mind, in the cornerstone of Severus's Occlumency shields, lingered the peace and comfort he'd found in the Vow he'd had with Albus. The purpose had changed, with the Horcruxes found – the Vow had been appeased, but the remnants were still there and still kept their hold on his mind. To betray that past, to betray Albus's trust was impossible.

"I was unable to listen to Lucius plot to kill Mr. Potter with any façade of control or equanimity. I do not think that I can be trusted with the boy, if I am unable to protect him against any eventuality," Severus said, looking down at his teacup. He did not look up at Albus and did not look for the reaction to his revelation.

"You can't hear of him being killed, and therefore you shouldn't be trusted with him? Really, Severus, that's quite illogical. If you're afraid to work with him because you think that you're becoming fond of him ..." Albus was insufferable and impossible to deny, and Severus sighed and shook his head.

-------

Gray stone, green eyes – Harry was a contrast in the dungeons, soft against the harsh walls, his gaze crystalline and sharper than the stones, and he was waiting for Severus. He kicked his feet against the tall wooden stool, his body a study in constant fidgeting. The thud-thud-thud of his heels against the wood reverberated through the air, and Severus strode out of the shadows, his robes swirling around him with a practiced flair.

"Mr. Potter," he said, "I'm glad to see that you understand the value of promptness."

Harry's face was clouded over by a sullen scowl, a downward twitch of his lips, a dark swirl in his aura. He was still wearing ridiculous Muggle clothing, threadbare but clean, and his hair stood up at all ends, as though ruffled by an undirected wave of electricity. He was every iota the rebellious teenager, every atom his father's son.

"Professor Snape," he said, and Severus returned his scowl with one of his own. Harry did not quaver before him or challenge him – he looked down at his hands, biting his fingernails as though bored. He bit off his thumbnail and spit it out onto the floor, but Severus Banished it before it could land.

"Take care not to contaminate anything in these rooms," he said. "You'll find that the results of adding unnecessary ingredients to some potions can be less than desirable, particularly when they share a physical connection with a witch or wizard.

"I'm told that the Auror division in the Ministry is not capable enough to instruct you in the rudiments of brewing potions, and I see that this must be the case. I've consented to perform the task for them."

The bow of coral lips, bent in a pout, scowl hidden as he ducked his head, shying away from Severus's gaze – Potter nodded and looked down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. "Yes, sir."

"Very well. You'll find the instructions in the textbook before you, and the ingredients in the cupboards along the wall. Proceed."

Potter moved without grace. He was still elbows and knees, all the gangly uncertainty of his youth, and he was stiff-backed and stumbling, refusing to look up at Severus. His hair fell down between them, a ruffled mess that shielded Harry's face.

He didn't look up to see the instructions that Severus had scrawled onto the board. After his first quick glance, he busied himself with the ingredients, chopping them and mangling them. He didn't look up again to confirm the directions before he began tossing his ingredients into the cauldron, already steaming with heated water. They began to react haphazardly, the snake fangs and the nettles swirling around each other in uneven clumps. The fire flared under the cauldron, bringing the unstable mixture to a boil.

Staring at his cauldron did Potter no good – the biggest bubble, rising to the surface, popped in his face. With a wet, sloughing sound, it exploded all over him, showering him with the half-finished potion. He spluttered, digging in his pockets for a handkerchief, and wiped his face clean. "You could have –"

"Learn by experience, Mr. Potter. It is the most effective teacher, in the end." Severus banished the cauldron's contents, sending the unused ingredients back to the cupboards. "Begin again," he said.

The boy that Severus had met – he was gone now. The boy who had accepted the strangeness of the wizarding world, who had quavered and railed against the existence of magic but had trusted Severus in the end – he was gone, and a sullen brat, the image of his father's worst traits, was in his place.

Potter glared at Severus, stomping over to the cupboards and pulling the same ingredients out, taking them back to his worktable. He set them down with an ill-disguised thump, throwing the stirring rod into the cauldron with a metallic ricochet.

Potter was Muggle-raised and ignorant of everything to do with potions, but he was not without redeeming qualities. He had fits of temper and flashes of brilliance – reaching for the porcupine quills too soon, he withdrew his hand before Severus could scowl at him.

"Why did you refrain from adding the porcupine quills?" Severus asked.

The cauldron burbled as Potter shrugged, loud enough to cover any response that he might have made. His aura resembled the gelatinous mixture that he stirred, yellow-green and thick with slow-moving, inchoate swirls.

"Look at me when you answer me, boy."

A spike in the power that surrounded him – it was enough to make the vials on the shelf behind Severus tremble, rattling against each other. "Control yourself," he said. "We're surrounded by delicate, volatile ingredients, Mr. Potter. If you cannot control your temper, I will be forced to discontinue these lessons."

Potter shrugged again, dropping his ladle into the potion. It was swallowed up by a noisy, greedy burble, disappearing to the depths of the cauldron. "Can't wait to get rid of me again?"

The fire beneath the cauldron flared brighter, fuelled by Potter's anger. "It didn't take long for you to hand me back to them the first time, did it? Scarcely half an hour and you gave me away to the Aurors. How long will it take this time?"

"Potter ..."

"Glad to see my backside, were you? Happy to have your posh hotel room to yourself? Once you realized that I had killed somebody, you only wanted to be rid of me, pass me off to somebody who could control me and keep me from killing any other innocent people."

Severus's hands itched to slap him, to feel the sting of Potter's skin against his palms. "Potter, pay attention for more than three consecutive seconds and if you have a brain inside that thick skull of yours, try to use it. Did you even pay attention when the Aurors explained matters to you?"

The potion bubbled and boiled, spilling over the cauldron rim. It spluttered as it ran down the hot metal and into the flame, spitting vapor into the air with a high, screeching fizz. Potter ignored the disaster, and Severus sneered at him as he Banished the mess. "I'll warrant you paid as much attention to them as you paid to the volatile, potentially dangerous concoction that you just created. You are indeed your father's son, woefully unprepared and criminally stupid ... it's a wonder that you have enough brains to simultaneously walk and breathe, boy."

"Don't you insult my father." Potter glowed, his magic swelling up around him, the sick and listless miasma gone. Pure and fresh, brash and overwhelming, it filled the room, skating across Severus's skin and etching its way through his veins.

Vials rattled, the storage cupboard shaking, thudding against the stone floor, and Severus yielded to temptation. He grabbed Potter's arm, fingers sinking into his flesh – pliant and easy, it yielded to his grip.

"Don't ..." Potter began to struggle, his free arm flailing in the air, his feet skidding on the floor as he fought against Severus. "What are you doing?"

Severus dragged him from the room, drinking in the squeals that Potter made as the grip on his arm tightened. "Removing you from the presence of valuable and volatile potions ingredients, you dolt."

Magic sang through him at the contact, spreading from the fingers where he grasped Potter's arm. It was enough to be near Potter, to be manhandling him, to feel his flesh through his thin and tattered shirt.

The corridor echoed, empty around them, and Severus released Potter, sending him stumbling into the wall. "Your Potions lessons are terminated until you can control your temper and your magic."

Potter rubbed his shoulder and then folded his arms across his chest, glaring at Severus through the messy fringe of hair that drooped over his eyes. "Fine. I don't want any stupid Potions lessons. I don't want you to teach me anything."

He whirled on his heel and strode away, his rubber shoes making muffled staccato thumps on the floor.

"You'll need an understanding of potions if you intend to be an Auror." Severus stopped him with a nonverbal spell, throwing up an invisible ward in the corridor.

Potter stopped in his tracks, refusing to turn and face Severus. His spine was slumped in a careless curve, his shoulders hunched in on himself – Severus needed no eye contact to brush against his mind with a soft sweep of Legilimency, to read in every line of his body that he lied. "I don't want to be an Auror. I want to go back to the real world."

"How disappointing," Severus said, watching Potter's shoulders straighten at his words. "You begin with the disgustingly noble intention of saving the wizarding world, rescuing all of us from the darkness that looms and threatens to devour us, and then you abandon it. Stopped by your own failings, your own inadequacies – you're no better than your father. At least he died for the cause he believed in."

Pressing himself against the ward, heedless of the magic that thrummed around his body, vibrating through him and setting his hair to stand on end, Potter turned his head to face Severus. "Let me go," he said. "You wanted to get rid of me and you've done it. Just let me go."

Severus strode over to him and grasped him by both shoulders, pulling him away from the ward and dispelling it. He shook Potter, pinching him and looming over him until he flinched. "Foolish, imbecilic boy, will you make your way through life with wax stuffed up both ears? Learn to listen before you drown in the grief you cause yourself."

Turning, he propelled Potter down the corridor, marching him to his own quarters. Potter squirmed, trying to twist away from Severus, when he released one shoulder to fumble for his wand. "You're not going to –"

"Hush." Severus prodded him in the temple with his wand and then jabbed it through the wards, opening the door. "Come in."

Potter stood on the threshold, twisting in Severus's grip and grabbing the doorframe. "Don't ..."

"For the sake of Salazar Slytherin, get in there." Severus prodded him in the back, pushing him in through the door and shutting it firmly behind them.

"Sit. What would you like to drink?"

Potter ignored him, making a circle around the room, examining the bookshelves and trinkets prodded around the room. He stopped at Severus's Pensive, bending over the low table to look in the basin. The silver vapors cast a misty halo around his face, and he reached out to touch them.

"I will not hesitate to hex you if you touch that, or if you meddle with any of my other belongings."

Ruffling his dark hair with one hand and pushing it away from his face, Potter looked up at Severus. "What is it? It's beautiful."

"It's personal. I will make you regret it if you ..."

"I know, I know." Potter moved away from the Pensieve, dropping down onto the sofa in a casual sprawl of limbs. He was all pale skin and sharp angles against the crushed green velvet. Severus turned away to tap the teapot and Summon two mugs from the kitchen.

"Sugar or lemon?"

"I don't want anything from you."

Hot water splashed out onto the counter, hissing from the teapot as Severus poured. He brought both cups over to the sofa, setting one on the coffee table in front of Potter. He added lemon to his own tea and sat at the opposite end of the sofa from Potter, leaning away from the bewitching pull of his magic.

"We parted on good terms, Mr. Potter. I am at a loss to understand your current attitude."

Potter's eyes were forest-dark when he scowled, his eyebrows twitching together into one thick line. Severus shook his head, blinking until the world blurred in front of him. Potter was James's son and nothing more – he was simply a boy that Severus had saved, simply a boy who wore his magic on his sleeve, drawing Severus in with a siren song of untapped power.

"If, as you implied, you are angry with me because I left you with the Aurors, let me remind you that you made the choice to go with them. I would not have abandoned you if you chose to stay with me."

Severus took a deep breath, biting his lips shut. There was no need to make such open declarations in front of the boy, no need to coddle him with flattery or declarations of loyalty. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the arm of the sofa in a studied, indifferent pose.

"You ..." Potter swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion. He looked uncertain, half-fey and half-wild as he crossed and uncrossed his arms, shifting on the couch and then leaning toward Severus. "You ... would you, really have kept me?"

"You are hardly a Kneazle, to be kept on a leash and fed from a dish on the floor."

Potter leaned back and looked down then, twisting his hands in his lap before he reached for the tea, taking a sip and watching Severus with wary eyes over the rim of the cup. "I'm sorry, then."

The film of anger that clung to Potter's magic fell away, dropping off in rough chunks like thick orange peel, and dissipated as it fell off. He took another sip of tea, breathing the steam up into a cloud, a haze that blurred his features, and he slurped when he drank. The noise echoed through the room, loud and crude, and Severus shook his head.

"Did the Muggles fail to teach you any manners? Do not make any unnecessary noises when you eat or drink, Mr. Potter. You may have been raised by uncouth barbarians, but when you are in civilized company, comport yourself with some dignity."

Potter smiled then, a real smile that lit his eyes and showed his dimples. "Muggles aren't barbarians – not all of them, sir. The Dursleys were, I suppose."

The tea was cool enough to drink, and Severus took a silent sip of it, setting a good example for the boy. He set the cup down on the saucer without a clink, leaning back against the sofa arm and leaning away from Potter's wariness. Smile set aside, there was still no trust there, only tension sharp in every angle of his body.

"I ... I'm sorry about earlier. I will try better, and work at controlling my magic and my temper if you'll agree to give me lessons again."

"Pretty promises don't change the world, Mr. Potter," Severus said. "You may continue with your other courses of instruction without potions for the present, I imagine. Self-control will come as you ..."

Potter swallowed hard, his confidence and pride abandoned as he spoke. "Please. Please, sir, let me come here for lessons still. I ... they say that I need to take Potions, that I'll need them to be an Auror. Will you please teach me?"

The son of his enemy, pleading for Severus's favors, begging to be instructed by him – it was sweet, it was a heady cocktail that went through his nerves, sizzling like a firestorm, arcing from the base of his spine to spread through the rest of his body. It had all the power of the Cruciatus Curse and none of the pain.

"You may come here as scheduled," Severus said, his lips curling. "I'll speak with you, when I have the time to do so, and observe your progress in self-control. When I feel that you are ready, the lessons can resume."

A flash of anger sparked through Potter's eyes, a bright hard spark visible to any Legilimens, and Severus drank it up, delighting in his helpless anger. Magic flared around Potter, washing out in waves broad enough to rattle both teacups – broad enough to sweep against Severus's skin, touching him through to the marrow.

Potter bowed his head in surrender, and Severus gave a sharp nod, collecting his easy victory. "You may go," he said. "Return at the same time next week."

-------

Weekly lessons with the wizarding world's chosen savior, weekly chances to influence him and mould him – it was more than Severus could have asked for, it was a Slytherin's dream. He paced, waiting for Potter's arrival. He had set tea out for two, with cream and scones and all of the sweets a boy could dream of eating. He had stoked the fire, banishing the chill and damp of the dungeons. He had locked the Pensieve away in a cupboard, set away all of the fragile and breakable objects that he owned, and had strewn soft rugs on the floor.

Everything was prepared, and Potter was late. He burst through the door at last, entering without a knock. Albus was on his heels, smiling and tearing through Severus's wards like so much tissue paper. "I must apologize for making Harry late, Severus, but I was so interested in hearing about his schooling. You must ask him about it sometime, the Muggle alternatives to our classes here are simply fascinating."

Albus paused for breath, reaching over to ruffle Potter's hair. "What was it called again, that school of yours? Highstone?"

"Stonewall High, the local comprehensive." Potter moved away from Albus's touch, ducking against the wall and hunching in on himself. Eyes dark with an unspoken plea, he looked at Severus.

Severus responded without a thought, drawn in by Potter's vulnerable pose. "Thank you, Headmaster, but as fascinating as the Muggle ways may be, they are irrelevant to today's lesson."

"Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry that I made Harry late ... to tell the truth, Severus, he would have been on time, save that I insisted that he was confused with regard to the location of his lessons. I led him to your classroom first and looked for you there, because I was sure that you wouldn't hold a potions lesson in your private chambers – but I see now that I was wrong and Harry was right after all."

Severus nodded, twisting his lips into a sneer. "Yes, as you see, I've decided to hold the theory part of the lessons in a more comfortable setting. It wouldn't do to have the Aurors complaining because their precious protégé was being mistreated."

"Yes, well ... I'm sure that there will be no complaints, Severus. You're an excellent teacher." Albus smiled, brushing against Severus's mind with a casual sweep of Legilimency. Finding no deceit, he was bright-eyed and placated, and made one last attempt at mussing Potter's hair before he left. "Potions may not be as glamorous as the other kinds of magic you're learning, Harry, but don't be fooled by that. They're just as important, and might even save your life someday – make sure you pay attention to everything that Professor Snape teaches you."

There was silence when the door shut behind Albus, the room ringing with the abrupt withdrawal of his forceful magic. Severus motioned for Potter to take a seat on the sofa, and followed him over with the tea tray.

When not sulking, Potter took two sugars in his tea, and buttered his scone before he piled it with cream and jam until it oozed. Like congealing blood, the mess dripped off the scone and onto the saucer, and Severus shuddered. "If you besmirch any of my furniture with your uncouth eating habits, I'll take the price of them out of your hide."

Potter grinned at him, licking a spot of jam from the corner of his mouth. His tongue was quick, as impudent as he was. "I liked it better when I was the precious protégé, someone to be coddled and not someone who would be mutilated for the price of a sofa."

Severus stared at him, following the sticky smear of the jam and the path of his tongue, and scowled. "Let me warn you before we start these lessons," he said. "I won't take any of your cheek, so you can leave your attitude and entitlement back at the Ministry where there are sycophantic fools who appreciate it."

Taking a huge bite of his scone and smearing jam across his mouth and down his chin, Potter grinned at Severus. "If I meet any sycophantic fools at the Ministry, I'll be sure to send you word express. Have you seen the wicked falcons they use for the express post?"

"You're more likely to be unable to recognize a sycophant than to convince me that there are none at the Ministry." Severus Banished the remains of the tea tray, the half-eaten scone disappearing from Potter's hands.

A rough Scourgify took care of the jam on Potter's mouth – he yelped, rubbing at the pink skin. "That stung," he said.

"Try to show some level of civilized table manners, if you please. I refuse to eat in the presence of a barbarian." Severus took up his own cup, the only remnant of the vanished tea, and took a small sip. The taste of lemon, with its perfect acidic tang, the best complement to his tea, lingered in his mouth after he set the cup down.

Potter watched him drink, following Severus's every motion with his eyes, and Severus glared at him. "You may be too blind yet to see it, but the Ministry is full of fools and wretches. They'll use you to further their own careers if they can, but most of them are too stupid to do it with any success – of course, you're not going to be very successful at repulsing their attempts, are you?"

"You don't need to be insulting." Potter's voice deepened with his anger, the aura of magic swirling around him with dark undertones.

Severus had saved him, yes, had preserved his innocence, but hadn't made him into some whitewashed mannequin or witless fool. Though there was no premature blight on his soul, there was darkness to spare in Potter. It shone forth in his anger, darkening his light.

Severus drank it in, feeding off the energy that sparked through the air, hot and bright and sweet as life-force. He was drawn to power like a Dementor to happiness, drawn to Potter's brightness like a Dementor to an unwary soul ready for the Kiss. "You still can't control your emotions, can you? Have you learned nothing, this past week?"

The anger spiked higher, hotter, and Severus drew on it and shaped it into a flame-bright shield around himself. "Are you capable of learning, or are you too much the useless, hopeless waste of magic that your father was?"

Potter's magic roared to a crescendo, scorching Severus's fingertips and catching him in the backlash. "You know nothing about my father, you malicious, manipulative old bat."

He rose from the sofa, shaking and wild-eyed and towering over Severus. He reined his magic in, Severus shaking from the sudden withdrawal of it, and his hand flew in an open arc, slamming into Severus's face with an echoing smack. "I know everything, did you know that? They told me what happened, how my father saved your life that night. The Dumbledore told me earlier about the Life Debt that you owe to my father. You're a jealous, bitter old man stewing in your own self-perceived superiority over others, but you are nothing compared to James Potter."

Without a word, Severus healed the stinging in his cheek, and put his wand aside, the wood clattering onto the coffee table and rolling out of his easy reach. "Well done," he said. "You had it in the end – did you feel that?"

Potter gaped at him, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with his leashed rage. He was beyond reason in his temper, with his pale skin pinked and his dark hair tousled. "What?"

"At the end, you took control of your magic instead of letting it control you – just before you slapped me. I do hope that you'll be able to refrain from using such barbaric, Muggle methods in the future, Mr. Potter, but it did prove effective."

"What?"

"Sit down before you find that you are in fact incapable of simultaneous coherent speech and standing upright." Severus waved him back to the couch, delighting in his unthinking obedience. Like father, like son – the Potters were easy to manipulate, bending to Severus's will like new reeds in the wind.

Like father, like son – James Potter had defied Severus, had defiled him and pushed him into darkness, but he pushed that fact away. Harry was not the arrogant, spoiled pureblood wizard that his father had been. Stifled by his gray Muggle upbringing, clad in his old clothes, he fidgeted on the sofa, biting his fingernails. "I don't understand," he said.

"Take the time to understand how it felt. The magic flowed through you, strengthened by your rage – it was stronger than you were. It controlled you, instead of the converse, but then you were able to seize it. You pinched it off at the source and bottled it up inside, storing it. You must master your own magic, rather than letting it master you."

Severus's teacup shattered into a host of jagged porcelain pieces when Potter let loose the restraint he had placed on his power. The tea ran out over the white shards, an amber pool flowing over the ruined cup and the table. Dark, angry power flowed around Harry, reaching out to coil around Severus, heating the room and shaking the books on their shelves. "You bastard," Potter said, "you utter and unmitigated bastard, you did that deliberately."

"Of course I did. How do you expect to learn control, if your emotions are not put to the test?"

Potter scrambled up from the couch, magic surging around him in a wild, inchoate rage, and he scrabbled for Severus's wand on the coffee table, grasping and brandishing it at him. "Don't you do that ever again."

The wand wavered, pointed at Severus's heart. "I know that you think I'm stupid and you're sly and clever, some sort of sneaky Slytherin prince, but you know, I'm not that stupid and the Aurors have explained everything to me, all right? Don't treat me like that."

Severus summoned his wand with a nonverbal Expelliarmus, smirking as it flew out of Potter's hand. "Do you speak to all of your teachers in that tone of voice, or do you reserve it for me?"

Potter's hand was clenched in the air, his tendons taut in his forearm and his muscles spasming. "You bastard ..."

"Your vocabulary does not impress me. If you are sincere in your desire to become an Auror, then you must study Potions. You will not further that goal by antagonizing me."

His words, chosen with care, were enough to push Potter over the edge – the right targets chosen, and he was as impetuous as his father had been before him. He launched himself at Severus, grappling with him and fighting him for the wand. He was a warm and squirming weight in Severus's arms. The rapid thump of his heartbeat resonated against Severus's own breastbone. Magic sparked between them, and its pull on Severus was irresistible.

"You know nothing," Severus said, succumbing to temptation and sinking his teeth into Potter's delicate earlobe. He bit down hard enough to taste Potter's heartbeat, to drink of his magic. "You think that the Aurors have revealed every facet of the wizarding world, every detail of your father's history and mine in the scant weeks that you have been here?

"Contrary to all appearances, you are not a fool, Harry. Don't act like one."

Severus released Potter and sent him sprawling onto the floor, pointing the wand at him before pocketing it. "Now," he said, "shall we begin again?"

"You ... there's nothing to begin. I don't care what they say, you are a greasy, sadistic bastard and I don't believe that you have anything at all to teach me." Potter scrambled to his feet and made for the door, but Severus followed him, pinning him against the wood.

Innocence was a breath away from him, Potter's lips were parted, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining as he squirmed, trying to break away from Severus. The pulse twitched in his throat, the flutter of blood through his veins – he was vivid and warm and real, he was not some distant and untouchable figment that Severus had saved.

Severus leaned closer, one hand on the doorknob and the other pinning Potter's shoulder to the door. Their hips touched, their bodies pressed together, and Severus felt Potter's body heat, the delicious thrum of Potter's pure magic, the warm whisper of his breath. This was sweet salvation and this was dark temptation, the blood rushing through Severus's veins and pooling at the base of his spine, the intoxication of Potter's nearness going to his head.

"I have nothing to teach you, is that so?" Severus leaned in until their cheeks brushed, the faint buzz of Potter's stubble grating against his skin. "You surely don't imagine that another wizard, raised as a Muggle, just as you were yourself, might have nothing to tell you. Do you imagine that I have no tips to help you acclimate yourself to the world where you find yourself?

"If you choose to abandon your mission to save the world, if you abandon the training that the Ministry has been good enough to offer you ... then you have no need of my Potions expertise, it's true. But do you think that I can teach you nothing more than that? You've learned the beginnings of control here already. You're going to be a powerful wizard, Harry, and I can help you on that path."

Potter thrust the weight of his body against Severus, struggling to be free. "I can't learn anything from you if you're going to be such a bastard all the time."

"You're never going to learn anything if you don't start using your brain, Potter. I am not your enemy." Severus backed away, drunk on the power that spread from his contact with Potter. It was heady and sharp, flowing freely between them – their magic resonating together, their connection formed a loop, feeding back on itself.

He had a second of warning when Potter shifted his weight to one foot, before he brought his leg up. A foot in Severus's stomach, Potter's leg forcing him away, and Potter twisted out of Severus's grasp. "Stop it."

Potter rubbed his shoulder as he retreated to the far side of the room. He backed away from Severus, keeping several meters distance between them, until he ran into the bookcase. It shook under his weight, the books jostling each other in their tidy rows and fluttering their pages. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me," Potter said.

Severus reached out, his fingers hovering in the air over Potter's shoulder. Magic hummed through his fingers at the near connection, speeding his heartbeat and catching his breath. "What is it?" he asked. "Why don't you want to be touched?"

"Get away from me." Potter ducked under Severus's hand and dashed for the door. His rubber shoes flapped against the floor, and he was stopped only by Severus's spell, a quick Impedimenta that caught him like a fly in honey.

"Harry. Harry, listen to me – no, I won't touch you."

Severus approached, facing Potter and standing an arm's length away from him. "Harry, why have I lost your trust? What's happened, that you won't let me teach you, won't let me even touch you?"

The thrill of power had lost nothing – it rumbled through Severus as he faced a defenseless Potter. Eyes closed in defeat, Lily's green eyes hidden, he was the image of his father, the image of Severus's enemy. He was arrogant, he was angry, he was unbearable, and yet his aura was afire with the clear bell-tones of pure magic. Around Potter, flaring out to touch Severus, the power resonated and beckoned. It was a shield, trembling and potent, flaring up to push Severus away when he stepped forward.

Severus broke the spell with a snap, his knuckles popping and his wand falling back into his pocket. "Remember, Harry? You trusted me once – trusted me to protect you and guide you through a world that you had been brought into against your will. I helped you and guided you ... are you going to forget all of that and discard your trust for me, just because you disagree with my teaching methods?"

"My father ..."

"Your father and I were never friends, but I will not insult him in your presence unless it is to prove a point."

Severus reached out and took Harry's elbow, guiding him to the sofa. "It was a lesson, and nothing more. Let go of your anger instead of allowing it to master you.

"You can't be trusted around volatile potions ingredients until you master your anger, Mr. Potter. You can't learn advanced spells or perform even rudimentary spells in some branches of magic. You will do your purpose no good if you are not the master of your own self."

Harry shifted away from Severus, moving to the far end of the sofa and watching him without fidgeting or blinking. "I did trust you," he said. "I was naïve and lost, and I trusted you. I'll do it again if you prove to me that I can trust you."

Severus nodded, swallowing, and saw the bright sparkle return to Potter's eyes, the swirls of dark emotions falling away from his aura. "Work on clearing your mind before our next lesson," he said. "Let your anger and all of your other emotions leave you and work to keep your thoughts still and calm. With daily practice, it will become second nature to you before long."

Potter smiled at Severus before he left, lingering on the threshold and fidgeting with his spectacles. "Professor?" he said.

"I'm sorry ... about the way that I attacked you earlier, and about the things that I said about you when I was angry."

Cursed by two generations of Potters – as earnest and sincere as they were arrogant and overbearing, as Gryffindor as Godric himself and obsessive to a fault in fairness and justice. Severus nodded and let him slip through the door, holding in a sigh when Potter withdrew all of his warmth and vibrancy from the room as he left.

-------

part four