Pacify Part1：Shatter [end] by Chickenpets

afterending

Chapter 11: Protego

Severus had never really realized how much every single person in Hogwarts wanted to discuss Harry Potter at all times. He must have been ignoring it before. But now, with Potter invading his every waking thought, he heard his name in every corner of the castle. He heard younger students whispering about him. Teachers discussing him. Bloody GHOSTS theorizing about him. Slytherins, gossiping. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws mooning over him. Gryffindors defending him. He couldn’t escape. Horace Slughorn was particularly infuriating, as he incessantly waxed poetic about Potter’s potions genius, which Severus knew could not possibly be true. Severus himself had half-expected and half-hoped that Potter would show some sign of Lily’s unmatched talent for potions, but had been severely disappointed almost at once. Obviously Horace was just star-struck. The fool.

Defensive magic, however, was a different story. Potter was truly gifted.

The monday after Potter stayed the night, Severus had almost been unable to enter the room. He was paralyzed with contrary desires to flee back into the dungeons, and to see Potter flinch when he sat in his seat.

He saw the flinch.

It was just as good and as awful as he had hoped, and just after, Potter had looked up at him with his small, sad smile. Severus was surprised every time how strong his reactions to Potter had become. That little smile, and the flinch, sent Severus’ stomach into his feet, with a nauseating mixture of affection and shame. And he was supposed to teach this boy? After what he’d done?

How?



***



Harry looked at him a lot. During meals, and during class, and sometimes in the corridors, but he didn’t try to say anything. Severus’ cuff remained cold and quiet for a whole week. He had a suspicion that maybe Potter was hoping he’d forget what had happened the last time, and was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. Or maybe he was trying to obey. To get better at acting normal, while his bruises were still fresh enough to remind him of what he’d promised while tied down to Severus’ bed. Well, whatever he was trying to do, it wouldn’t work, because Severus would die before he’d forget anything Harry had ever done in his line of sight. And certainly he would never forget his fury at being told no, or the way he’d said, ‘you could have anything you wanted.’



Severus heard in the chatter of the corridors that Draco Malfoy had run into Potter in the dungeons, and had been summarily disarmed. The other houses seemed to take delight in this bit of gossip, but among Slytherins, Severus overheard that Potter hadn’t even drawn his wand. That he had, somehow, overcome Malfoy without saying a single word. This was not something Severus wanted to get out of the castle, but surely that was beyond hoping. Everyone seemed to know about it. When he approached Draco, however, the boy refused to tell him anything at all, or even to make eye-contact with him. He’d have to try again, later. And, failing that, he would have to go straight to the top to deal with it. He couldn’t allow word of Potter’s unusual magical abilities to reach the Dark Lord’s ears. Or, at least, the Dark Lord could not be allowed to believe it.

Apart from this fantastical gossip, the general word was that Potter was running trials for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and that several groups of students from other houses were planning on crashing it. Severus had an insane urge to watch the chaos, but he controlled himself. He stayed in the dungeons, and tried very hard not to care how it was going. No, in fact, he wanted it to go badly. He wanted the Gryffindor team to fail horribly, as he always had. Bloody Gryffindors. No matter who the captain was.



It was that very same day, then, that Severus was alarmed to feel his cuff grow warm, and to see the word [help] appear there.

“What happened?” he said, touching his wand to the surface.

   [I need you]


“Why?” His wrist got hot, then, and Severus covered the bracelet with his hand and said, “ Chimera, ” fearing the worst.

He appeared in a boy’s bathroom, squashed into a stall.

“What in Holy Hell, Potter?” he hissed, looking around in bewilderment.

“You have to give me detention!” Harry whispered back.

“What? Why? Why are you in the bathroom?”

“Slughorn is trying to make me go to a party. You have to give me detention!”

“He - What?”

“He wants me to be his favorite or something. And I can’t - I can’t deal with that. Please, I told him you gave me detention. I need detention. I’ll do it every weekend, I don’t care. I’ll copy out your notes, whatever you want. Please, I’ll - ” he stopped, as someone came into the bathroom, and banged into an adjacent stall. Severus glared down at him, and he grimaced back in an apologetic sort of way. They stood in silence as the interloper did his business, washed his hands, and left. As the door slammed shut, Severus pushed him up against the wall.

“Is this an emergency?” he demanded in a low voice.

“It felt like one,” Harry breathed. “I - Sorry.”

Severus looked down at him. He’d panicked, that was all. Slughorn was notoriously impossible to turn away. Severus remembered being jealous of his favorites: The so-called Slug Club . And now he wanted Harry Potter in his collection. A mother-son set, for him to admire.

“Detention, Potter,” he said, and let go of him. “For calling me into this blasted bathroom.”

Harry leaned forward, half embracing him, and rested his head on Severus’ chest. “Oh, Merlin, thank you,” he said. Severus held his hands awkwardly at his sides, hovering them away from Potter’s body, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around him. In the boy’s loo, with the most popular boy in school. If only my sixteen year old self could see me now.

“Is it tonight?” he asked, his palms tingling.

“Yes. Eight-thirty. He cornered me.”

“Eight o’clock, then.” To be quite honest, the idea of Horace Slughorn courting Potter in this way made him feel rather sick. “My office.”

“Fuck, thank you,” Harry breathed, and his profanity squirmed into Severus’s spine in a truly embarrassing way.

“Language,” he said.

Harry lifted his head, and stood up on his toes.

“Sorry.” He kissed Severus’ cheek, and was gone before Severus could do more than recoil against the wall. As the stall door swung shut, he covered the spot with his hand, and found that his face was hot. No one had ever kissed him on the cheek before.

No one.

Not even his own mother.



***



When Horace accosted him at dinner, Severus took an inordinate amount of pleasure in disappointing him.

“What in Merlin’s name did the boy do?” Slughorn complained. “He lands himself in detention more than any student I’ve ever seen!”

“He has no regard for school rules,” Severus sneered back.

“But what did he do? Surely you can make an exception.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Severus, be reasonable!”

Snape’s eyes flicked toward the Gryffindor table for a half second before he could stop himself. Harry was watching them.

“Mr. Potter has landed himself in detention for the next few weeks, Horace. I daren’t repeat what he said.” Fuck. He said fuck. And Please, and sorry. And he kissed my cheek. Detention for the rest of the year. Try to get him now. I dare you.

“I don’t remember you being such a stickler for rules as a student, Severus.”

“Some of us grow up.”

“Very well,” Slughorn sighed, as much of a drama queen as he’d ever been. “I suppose I’ll have to catch him next time.”

He looked again, and saw Harry staring resolutely at his plate. Don’t worry, he wanted to say. I’ve taken care of it.



***



Harry reported to Snape’s office at 8pm sharp that night. It was quite empty.

“Sir?” he called. No response. He touched his wand to his wrist and said it again. “Sir? I’m here.” The bracelet immediately got hot.

Oh, ok. He wasn’t doing detention. A thrill of excitement tingled from his heart down into his legs. He closed his fingers around his wrist and then paused. Maybe it would still work if he didn’t say the word out loud. May as well try.

Chimera, he thought. It worked.



He appeared in front of the hearth in Severus’ rooms. Snape was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, about six inches away from him.

“Oh,” Harry gasped, jumping back a step. “Hi.” Something about just appearing out of thin air like that was very unsettling. “Am I in trouble?” Severus looked at him stolidly for a long moment, his body language forbidding. Harry felt a blush brewing and fought it back. “I meant what I said before,” he said, more to fill the silence than anything else. “I’ll do real detention if it means I don’t have to go to Slughorn’s weird parties.”

“I figured our time might be better spent working on your specialty magic, Potter.” He gestured at the dark fireplace. Harry smiled nervously back at him and pointed his hand at the hearth. Once the fire was lit, he sat cross-legged on the rug and folded his hands in his lap. Severus sat in one of the armchairs. “I’ve heard whispers around the castle that you’ve been using wandless magic to terrorize my students,” he said.

“I haven’t!” Harry blurted, affronted, but then stopped. “Well, I mean, just once. Malfoy was threatening me. It was right - right after I left. Last time.”

“I see.”

“He was going to curse me. So I took his wand away.”

“You… took it.”

“Yeah I - ” Harry made a beckoning gesture in the air. “I gave it back, after. Kind of.”

“You dropped it on the floor.”

“Yeah.”

That was a bit more advanced than lighting the fire, or making sparks. Taking another wizard’s wand, particularly in the middle of casting. That was more advanced.

“How did you feel afterwards?” Severus asked, wishing he’d been able to see Draco’s face.

“I felt pissed off.”

“How did the magic affect you, I mean?”

Harry leaned back on his hands, thinking. “Oh. I suppose it didn’t.”

“No?”

“I just did homework, after. And met with Dumbledore.”

“No headaches?”

“No. No fainting and no bleeding either.”

“Good.” Severus paused. Draco would be trying to curry favor, now that his father had been imprisoned. He would tell Bellatrix, if he hadn’t already. “You should not have done it, though, as I’m sure you know.” He would have to come up with some counterintelligence.

“What should I have done? Let him curse me?”

“You shouldn’t have shown him what you are capable of. He will not keep your secrets.”

“If I’d thought it through I wouldn’t have done it. I was kind of … upset.”

“I know you were.”

“I wanted to humiliate him.”

“You did.”

It was possible, he supposed, that Draco would keep it to himself, for fear of showing his weakness to the Dark Lord. It wouldn’t do to seem incompetent while entrusted with the all-important task of murdering the most powerful wizard of the modern age. Maybe he would keep it secret, at least for a while. All the same, Severus would have to think of something to tell him, and something to tell the Dark Lord, too. To muddy the waters. For now, though, he had Potter in his rooms, and it was time to move on from incendiaries and summoning. Something more difficult. Conjuring, perhaps, or shield charms. He said as much. Harry seemed unimpressed.

“Protego I can do,” he said.

“Non-verbally and without a wand?” Severus asked. He himself needed at least one or the other.

“Well, I haven’t tried it like that, but it’s a spell I’m pretty comfortable with it.”

“Shall we try?”



Severus knocked him down four times before he got it right. After the first time, Harry had jumped to his feet, red, and embarrassed. The second and third times, he’d gotten back up more slowly, as if feeling himself for weakness. The last time, he stayed down. Severus moved to stand over him, and offered his hand, remembering their disastrous Occlumency lessons, and not wanting to repeat them. Harry didn’t take his help, though, but just propped himself up on the floor.

“I think this isn’t going to work,” he said.

“You just need to focus,” Severus answered him. “Apply yourself.”

“No, I,” Harry looked at Severus’ boots, or maybe the hem of his robes. “I think maybe I want you to win.” He said it very carefully, stripping it clean of emotion. “I’m not meaning to. Just, with Malfoy, it was so easy. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Because you hate him,” Severus said.



‘I fucking hate you,’  Harry had said.

And Severus had said it too, hadn’t he? ‘I hate you.’



“I hate him but - ” he paused. “It’s different. It’s more like - disdain.”

“You’re not afraid of him,” Severus offered.

“Maybe.”

“Are you so afraid of me?”

Harry just looked up at him from the floor and didn’t speak.

“Maybe we can try something else.” Severus offered his hand one more time, and this time Harry took it. “Close your eyes, and imagine someone whom you hate, but for whom you hold no fear. If you can think of such a person, picture them in your mind, as clearly as you can.”

Potter considered this. Then, he closed his eyes and thought of Uncle Vernon, blundering around with his rage and his stupid walrus mustache and making Harry miserable. Hating that Harry was a wizard, hating Harry for being there at all. Just a big, blow-up doll of spite and ignorance that could no more hurt Harry now than one of the petty bullies in his primary school.

“Now,” Severus continued in low, calm tones, “defend yourself from that person.”

That time, Harry’s nonverbal protego was not only strong enough to keep him on his feet, but strong enough to knock Severus back into the table, shattering a cut-crystal decanter.

“Better,” Severus said, after recovering. He repaired the decanter. “Much better. Whom have you imagined?”

“My uncle,” Harry answered him.

“Interesting choice. Again.” This time Severus aimed something more dangerous at him. “Diffindo!”

Without his wand, and with no incantation, it looked rather alarmingly like Potter was slapping spells out of the air with his bare hands.

“Very good,” Severus said. What he really wanted to say was, I have never seen anything like this before. “ May I ask, Potter, just what your Uncle’s done to you?”

“No,” he said. “Can we keep practicing?”

They did. By 11 pm Potter was blocking everything, even the cruciatus. He hadn’t wanted to go that far, but Potter demanded it.

“More,” he’d said. “Come on, I can take it. I can take more.”

   Come on, I can take it. Give me more. Merlin.


Severus had thrown everything he could think of at him save the killing curse, and he’d repelled all of it. Severus himself was knocked into furniture and walls more than he’d like at 36 years old, yet here they were.

Someone you hate, but know you can beat. That was the key. Interesting.



Finally, when Potter was too tired to continue, Severus poured himself a glass of scotch, neat, and they returned to the chairs. Harry looked enviously at the amber spirit.

“You didn’t like the brandy, Potter. You certainly won’t like this,” Severus said.

“I’m not much in the mood for liking things just now, to be honest,” he said.

He had worked hard, Severus reasoned. He deserved a drink. Might as well allow it. What could it hurt?

   You keep lying to yourself. You’re delusional. Don’t give him alcohol, Severus. Come on. Use your head.  


Severus got up and fetched another glass. Then, he conjured a bit of water and froze it, and topped the ice with a generous pour. He looked at it for a long moment. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed.



When he came back, Harry had transfigured the chairs into an overstuffed sofa. Severus stopped short when he saw it.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, nestled in one corner. “How can you have company over without a sofa, hmm?”

Severus scoffed lightly and sat on the opposite end, and then levitated Potter his glass. “You won’t like it,” Severus said again. “I don’t even like it, most of the time.”

“Sounds like me liking you, even when I don’t.” His eyes twinkled in the firelight in a way that put Severus very in mind of the Headmaster. Then, he sipped cautiously at his drink and his face puckered up into a grimace of disgust.

Severus almost spit out his own mouthful at the sight.

“Ech,” Harry said after swallowing. “Tastes like petrol.”

“Petrol?” Severus answered, trying to hold in his laughter.

“Yeah, you know, petrol. It’s the stuff that … muggles pour into their cars… and it explodes, and that’s how cars go.”

“What? They explode?” a single short exhale escaped him before he could stop it. The alcohol was warming him from the inside out, tingling in his limbs. That’s all it took sometimes, just a bit.

“I swear. Cars have little explosions inside of them, and it makes them go. And the fuel they use smells exactly like this tastes.” He took another large gulp from his glass, and coughed. “And you know who taught me that? It wasn’t even a muggle! It was Mr. Weasley.” He coughed again.

“I suppose it’s an acquired taste.”

“I’m acquiring it.” He scooted down until his feet were inches from Severus' legs. “You should take off your shoes, Professor Snape. You’re in your own house,” he said, and wiggled his toes.

“I refuse to believe that you are already drunk, Potter. You’ve had two sips.”

“I’m sleepy though. And I didn’t eat dinner.”

“I saw you at dinner. You’re telling me you didn’t eat?”

Harry knocked back the rest of the scotch in his glass and scrunched up his face. Then, he swirled the ice cube around, and looked at it.

“Thanks for the ice. I think it helps,” he said. “And I ate a little bit, I guess. Some rolls mostly. Can I have some more?” He held up his glass, and Severus, against his better judgement, filled it. And Severus took off his shoes. He curled up in the corner of the sofa as Harry had done. Harry drained his fresh glass in two long pulls and then sucked the ice into his mouth. Severus watched him do it.

“Why your uncle?” he asked. Harry shrugged and sank deeper into the cushions. Severus himself would never have chosen a piece of furniture so plush, but he had to admit it was nice in front of the fire.

“When I was little,” the boy began, “he could control me, but now he can’t. I’m not scared of him anymore. He can’t hurt me, and he can’t help me. So, he doesn’t matter. None of them do.”

Severus made a noncommittal noise, thinking of his own muggle father. When he’d been a child, his father was like a god, ruling all-powerfully over the house. He and his mother were at his mercy, and there wasn’t much of that. But then, later, Severus had found far worse fathers to follow. Ones that never passed out from drinking too much, and never patronized the prostitutes down the alley. Ones that had magic, and malevolence, and plans to take over the human race. Ones that never slept, and you could never leave. Not alive.

Harry drew his knees up, and hugged them. “If I could go back, I don’t know what I would do differently. They aren’t evil, or anything. Just ignorant. Mean.”

Severus took a sip of his drink, and stretched his legs out on the sofa, wanting him to move closer, but not quite daring to ask. “How did they treat you?” he asked carefully. “Did they hit you?”

Harry looked into his glass. Severus floated the bottle over to him and filled it, and then topped off his own.

“A few times they did. When my magic acted up. They hate magic - or - they hate magical people. My cousin Dudley was mostly who hit me, though. You know, for fun. My aunt and my uncle usually just locked me up and … sort of … starved me.” He paused again, and then took another swallow.

“They … starved you.” Severus had never heard this story.

“Yeah, and until Hogwarts, they kept me in a cupboard under the stairs. That’s where I lived.” He sipped his bitter drink. “Pretty fucked up to say it out loud like this.”

Severus had always imagined that Potter’s muggle relatives treated him like a blessing. Or, at the very least, a son. This new knowledge did not fit at all in the picture Severus had in his head of Harry’s childhood. He wondered if Dumbledore knew what he’d done, when he’d left Harry on their doorstep all those years ago.

“I thought - ” Severus began, and stopped. He looked into his own glass, and swirled the liquid around. He had thought a lot of things. What could he say? “I thought I knew you.” Harry’s lips turned down minutely at the corners.

“You do,” he said. “As much as anyone.”

Severus thought about Harry not telling anyone about Umbridge’s sadistic detentions. He thought about how he himself had treated the boy, eleven years old, thinking him a pampered little prince, adored by everyone around him. Humiliating him for being raised by muggles. And all this time, they’d abused him. Neglected him. Starved him. He thought about how Dementors made him collapse, and how he’d thrown himself into mortal peril to save a Godfather he’d hardly known, and all at once everything was shockingly clear. Like jumping into icy water. The pain. The desperate loneliness. The childhood he’d endured.

“Come here,” Severus said, and sat up against the cushions. Harry looked at him for a moment, his eyes hidden by the reflection of the firelight on his glasses, hesitating. Then, he scooted closer, turning his back so that he could rest against Severus’ chest. He held his glass in both hands and Severus wrapped an arm around his waist. He was very tense, as if he couldn’t quite believe Severus should want to touch him. Like he was damaged. Or Dirty.  “Come on, Potter.” He tugged him further back, encouraging him to relax. He didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Why?” Severus breathed, turning his face into his hair. He felt Potter tremble minutely against him, and tightened his arm.

“I’m not - ” his breath hitched. “I’m not who I’m supposed to be.”

Severus balanced his glass on the back of the sofa to free his other hand. “You are who you’ve been made,” he said, touching his shoulder, and sliding his palm over his chest. Severus could feel his heart pounding through his ribs. “It isn’t your fault.” Harry inhaled sharply and did not exhale. “Potter. It isn’t your fault.”

“I’m - supposed to be the Chosen One and I’m just - I’m just - ” his voice cracked, like breaking glass. “I’m just me.”

“Hush,” Severus said, and kissed his temple.

Harry pressed his tumbler against his mouth, as if trying to hold something in. Words, maybe. Or tears. Severus took it away, and kissed the edge of his jaw.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “You don’t have to hide from me.” All at once, Harry went rigid in his arms.

“Let go,” he said.

“It’s alright,” Severus repeated.

“Let go of me!” Severus didn’t move, and Harry tried to pry his arms away. Snape was stronger than he was, though, and didn’t let him up.

“Don’t hide.”

“Red sparks!” It came out of him strangled, and Severus released him at once. He leapt to his feet, knocking the glass off the back of the sofa. Whisky splattered in all directions. Severus stayed where he was and showed his hands, as Harry tripped, and fell, and scrambled back.

“Is this where you draw the line?” he asked, his voice as low and steady as he could make it.

“Where’s my cloak?” Harry demanded, stumbling as he found his feet. He swayed, and steadied himself on the lintel.

“I won’t give it to you just now,” Severus answered, and straightened himself very slowly and deliberately against the sofa. Harry looked at him, his eyes wide and pupils constricted to pinholes.

“I want to leave,” he said. “I need to - I need to leave.”

“I can see that. But I won’t allow you to go out into the castle like this,” Severus answered. “You’re upset, and you’re drunk.”

“I didn’t mean to say all that,” Harry said, backing away until he was pressed against the wall. “I take it back.”

“You can take it back if you like. I’ll forget I ever heard it. But I won’t let you go.” Severus kept his voice steady, his body still. “It’s alright.”

“Stop - saying that - ” Harry turned away from him and pressed his forehead to the stones, gasping for air. And then, his hands clenched into fists, and his face contorted, and he sucked in one more deep and unsteady breath, and did not let it out. Severus almost jumped up right then, but he held himself still, afraid he might make it worse. And then, slowly, slowly, Harry’s body started to relax, mechanically, by degrees. By force of will. Each limb unlocking in turn as he crushed his emotion back inside of him. Another moment passed, and he let out his held breath in a slow, thin stream, and then turned back around. He might have been a brilliant Occlumens, if things had gone differently. His face was blank.

“I’m tired,” he said finally. “Can we go to sleep?” He had closed right up again, like a lockbox. It was terrible to see.

“Potter,” Severus said, and got to his feet. “Are you trying to make yourself explode?” Harry flinched away as he stood, and turned his face back towards the wall, squeezing his eyes hard shut like he was trying to disappear.

“Please don’t touch me,” he said. “Don’t touch me!” Severus stopped about a hand's breadth away from him.

“Do you mean that?” he asked. Harry kept his face towards the wall for the space a single inhale, and then his expression crumpled.

“No,” he choked out.

Severus closed the gap, and at the touch of his hands, the tears burst out of him. Like a dam breaking.



***



It was very late, past two in the morning, by the time Severus successfully got Harry to go into the bathroom to wash his face and change into his nightclothes. While he was in there, Severus put away the bottle, cleaned the glasses and the spilled whisky, and put out the fire. When he returned, he found Harry in his bed, with the blankets drawn up to his nose, pretending to be asleep. Severus did not acknowledge him, but instead went into the bathroom to take care of his own ablutions and change his clothes. If he wanted to sleep in Snape’s bed, fine. It had been a hard day.

When he was done, Snape put out the light, and crawled under the covers. As he settled in, Harry turned towards him in the dark, and reached out his hands. Severus wanted to be surprised when the boy kissed him, but he wasn’t. He’d known he was going to, really. He’d known.

His mouth tasted like mint and scotch, and it felt like it had been a year since Severus had last kissed him. When had it been? The night before the feast? Up against the wall, desperate and frantic. Harry had said his name. Had that been the last time?

He had to summon all of his willpower to push him away, like scraping the bottom of a barrel, but he did it.

“You can’t think I’d take advantage of you like this,” he breathed, their noses almost touching. In the darkness all he could feel was body heat. Harry’s fingers curled into his nightshirt, trying to tug him forward. “You must know I won’t.” What kind of man would that make you, Severus?

“I just want you to kiss me,” Harry murmured back, his voice fuzzy at the edges. “Can’t I have that much?” Just a kiss. What could it hurt? He’d done so much worse already. Just a kiss. Why not give him what he wants?

   Delusional.


Harry’s mouth opened so easily beneath his, and Severus tried to control it, to force him to slow down, but it didn’t help the way he hoped it would. The sweet, slow slide of his tongue, and his lips, and the heat of his breath, and the low, quiet moan that came out of him. It was worse.

Harry’s hands fisted, pulling on his clothes like he wanted Severus on top of him.

   What kind of man?


Severus pushed him back again.

“I won’t,” his voice wavered strangely in his own ears.

“C’mon. I want to.” He wants you on top of him. He wants you.

“No.” He tried to force an edge into his voice. “If you try again I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“That’s my sofa. I made it.” His words weren’t fuzzy, they were slurred.

   What kind of man are you?


Severus grabbed his head in both hands and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Listen to me,” he said against his skin. “I won’t touch you tonight, Potter. I won’t.”

“Mmh,” he managed, sounding petulant. “Fine.” His fingers started to relax. “I’m sleepy.”

“Sleep, then,” Severus repeated back to him. Harry muttered something unintelligible about bad dreams, but then he didn’t say anything else. After a moment, his hands fell away and his breath leveled out. Severus stayed on his side for a long time, and then slowly, carefully shifted onto his back.

He lay there, staring into the dark, listening to the boy breathing, and suddenly had a truly terrible thought. It appeared in his mind fully formed, like it had been there forever. An artifact, waiting to be discovered. It chased around his head, repeating itself over and over again like a plea for mercy.



   No.




   Oh, no.


  
  
  






   I love him.

End of Part 1

The next two chapters are bonus arts. You can go to the original post on AO3 to check them out.

Jerry.

突然想看外文了，码一些慢慢看

春与

I just couldn't stop reading it. Absolutely love this！Thank u for posting this work.

nogodless

這篇真的是經典斯哈bdsm文哈哈哈哈