Ascendence

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Sigh.

A/N: Thanks to my moufflon, and to Sun. I continue to do battle with those commas!

==========================

Something is different...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Fuck you, Snape!' Harry screamed with his voice and his mind, his body shaking uncontrollably. Snape, that hateful, malevolent, wicked, cruel excuse for a wizard! Dumbledore was wrong... He should have known...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape was infinitely angrier than he had been in far too long and was furious at Potter's outburst, the kind of fury that only this reprehensible boy before him could evoke. How DARE he? He felt the rage and hatred in the Gryffindor's mind, heard it in his words and saw it reflected in every pore of his body.

'Fuck me?! Fuck ME?' His own mind screamed as all reason gave way to reaction, and he lunged forward, closing the distance between them in few strides, his anger swirling around him like a cloak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stepped back as Snape advanced on him and gasped as the man towered above him, furious, mirroring Harry's own anger and forcing his will upon him. Enraged, Harry pushed against the imposing force of Snape's body, moving quickly to put some distance between them, to be out from under his will. He stepped backwards until his legs met the desk, and he raised his wand once again as he tried to form a rational thought in his mind, to annunciate even one hex, one spell that would save his own life so that he could destroy the man before him ...

~~~~~~~~~~~

With barely a wave of his hand, Snape had disarmed his opponent, and with his face contorted in fury, he advanced on Harry. The rush of danger preceded his gaunt frame as he struck the boy with the back of his hand, hard, across the face, and watched in savage appreciation as blood spurted from a gash on his lip. The boy staggered back against the desk, his back bent as he tried to recover from the assault. Snape stopped mere inches from Harry's flushed face and grabbed his wrists roughly, holding them still as he towered over the young man. He felt his own magic arc and flow through his body, straining for release, but there would be no magic used for this; magic would be too easy. This would be a lesson in physical dominance, and Harry would be the student, willing or unwilling ...

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry reeled as the bright light of pain exploded through his face and head. His ears rang and his face was on fire, his lip a burning ember as he fought to clear his vision. He tasted something salty and slightly metallic in his mouth -– blood -- and barely had time to assimilate what had happened. He rocked backwards against the desk, but forced himself to turn, to straighten and stand tall against the man who had struck him. His glasses lay at his feet, broken, and as Snape grabbed his wrists, growling, gripping almost hard enough to crush the bones, he felt Snape's anger, palpable, swirling between them with a life of its own. In some way Snape's anger called to his own, matching it, fueling it, and urging it on in a savage entwining of emotion ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape gave in to his anger and reveled in the rush of power that flowed over him. He no longer bothered to tread carefully; what this ingrate needed was dominance; he needed to be taught who was in charge. The Boy Who Lived; indeed, the Boy Who Is Lucky To Still Be Alive would be a more apt term. And to be so foolish as to attempt to kill him, Severus Snape, former Death Eater, former henchman of Voldemort himself and a very dangerous man. He seethed. Oh, no, this young Potter would be made to understand that Severus Snape wasn't a weak, greasy-haired fool. Not this time, not anymore ... He plunged savagely into Harry's mind, barely hearing his own, 'Legilimens' ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's body twisted in Snape's grip as his mind fought furiously against the invisible fingers that pulled at the coverings of his mind. Snape was inside his head, he knew it, could feel him, probing, moving, uncovering, and Harry fought with new-found fury to prevent Snape from mentally raping him. His breaths sounded ragged in his ears as he struggled, physically and mentally, to escape. His anger fed his body, and he fought harder, pushing and twisting. He knew that his own powers were pitifully inadequate, especially when they came up against such a master of Legilimency.

Unbidden, memories rushed over him, Dudley and the snake at the Zoo, Hermione and Ron arguing with him, Snape taking points from Gryffindor, Malfoy's face on the train as he smashed his boots into Harry's body, Snape's sneering, hateful face, the memories raced by, faster and faster, and Harry was powerless. An image flashed across his mind, and suddenly he felt Snape jerk, his grip tightening. Only, the image was not of Harry's making, but rather, his memory of a memory seen in a Pensieve, many months prior, of a young Severus Snape suspended upside down by James Potter. Harry tried to close his eyes, to stop the images, to break the connection, and he fought against a wild rush of fear in his heart, as he stared into Snape's eyes. Eyes that were oddly darker ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape felt the anger in the boy's mind, saw it reflected in his thoughts. He could feel Harry's resistance to his intrusion, but, as always, the Gryffindor was virtually powerless to prevent it. Snape searched through the young boy's memories, searching, pushing. Flashes of his own face, contorted by hatred, sneering at the boy, images of him striding down the corridors, his robes billowing behind him, Granger and Weasley berating Potter for failing his Occlumency training, Potter being pushed out of the way by a large boy as they both made their way through a corridor, his own face again, dark and brooding, taking points from Gryffindor. He wasn't surprised to see himself associated with the anger, but as he moved through the images, he was hit with a cold rush at the sight of himself in his own moment of greatest anger and humiliation. He was shocked that it should be remembered so clearly and supremely annoyed that it should be cast upon him in such a way, at a moment when he was finally the victor, finally the one with the upper hand.

Incensed that he had been forced to endure it twice in one night...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry struggled against Snape, and finally, the connection was broken. He was almost frantic now, desperate to escape. He realized, belatedly, that his idea had been unusually foolish, even for him. His all-consuming anger at Snape had clouded his judgment, and now, here he was, about to meet his end at the hands of none other than Severus Snape. He was breathing heavily, as was Snape, but for all Harry's anger and confusion, there were still thoughts that he tried desperately to hide. He fought to remember everything that Snape had ever taught him about Occlumency, tried to summon a mental Patronus to keep those images and feelings entirely to himself. He was desperately afraid that it was too late...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape grabbed Harry's chin and forced his face around. Their eyes met, and he again plunged into Potter's mind, where he was battered and assaulted by the images. Suddenly, Snape pulled up short, almost breaking their connection. He saw more flashes of himself, many more, but these surprised him. His face, elated during a dueling session with the fraud, Lockhart, he again, his body protecting the three teenagers against the werewolf Lupin, himself (in the memory) grading papers during detention, concentrating, the feathered end of his quill brushing along his cheek as he tried in vain to understand the blather on the parchment. He could see himself running the feather along the line of his jaw, probably unconsciously, but he was surprised at the power of emotion and longing that accompanied that particular image.

What the bloody fuck?

Cautiously, he searched the face of the boy in front of him, trying to read something else, anything else, but he could see that Harry was fighting him. No longer physically, but mentally and emotionally. Harry closed his eyes, severing the connection once more, yet his body language spoke volumes where words would not. Harry was embarrassed, frantic, wounded, angry, afraid, hurt and...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry shook his head in a futile attempt to rid his mind of the images of Severus Snape that bombarded both his eyes and his mind's eye. Merlin, the man is EVERYWHERE! He knew that Snape had seen into his mind, knew that he had breached into the inner sanctum, seen his thoughts and fed on his emotions. He knew himself to be a dead man, but his mind was numb, his senses a jumbled mess, his breathing rapid and shallow.

He realized that Snape still held his wrists tightly, and he unclenched his fists pointedly. Snape released his grip as though Harry's skin had burned him, and he stepped backwards. Harry sagged against the top of the desk, completely deflated and defeated, his eyes locked on the floorboards between Snape's feet. He never took his eyes from the floor, and his eyes were heavily lidded, half closed with dejection.

'Fuck you, Snape,' he whispered, his voice shaking, exhausted by emotion, as he waited for the inevitable...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape was taken aback at the rawness of Harry's voice, the utter defeat that the words expressed, and by the array of images and emotion with which he had been presented. He mulled over his findings. That the boy had been angry and full of vengeance was obvious, but Harry's feelings for him, those other feelings, had obviously waged war in the Gryffindor's mind for quite some time. He examined his own feelings, difficult though that was, and waited a moment as he battled with himself. He cursed his betraying mind and body, and the sight of the brave lion in such a state of abject defeat was almost his undoing. He stepped forward and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, registering only mild surprise as the boy flinched and closed his eyes. Snape no longer saw the boy, but only the man before him. His heartbeat sounded like cannon fire as he held Harry's head in his hands and pulled him forward...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stiffened as he felt Snape step forward, hoping that the end would be swift. He felt Snape's hands on his shoulders and winced, but was surprised when, instead of quick pain, Snape's hand on the back of his head pulled him forward into Snape's chest. Harry was still for a moment as his heart thundered, waiting. He felt the surprising warmth of Snape's body, as his arms encircled Harry's shoulders. They stayed like that, unmoving, until Harry finally succumbed to his emotions. He wrapped his arms around Snape's torso and clung to him, holding onto him like a lifeline, as his soul finally broke...

TBC

===============

A/N2: Although this scene appeared only in the movie, Snape protecting the kids from werewolf Lupin, I chose to use it as canon for this story only. Reviews?