Eighteen

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Harry burped, tasting the acidic bitterness of the potion, and stared with utter hate at the empty goblet in front of him. Every hour...every bloody hour...he had downed a goblet of what tasted like vile poison, and his stomach was now screaming in protest. But this was the last one, thank goodness. Harry stood up, burping loudly again, grimacing at the taste, and paced around the hut in agitation. Hermione should be here soon, and he ran a worried hand through his hair.

He'd had the worst day ever; he hadn't slept all last night, so anxious was he about Ginny.... Ah, Ginny... his beloved Ginny.... He'd die if anything happened to her. He hastily brushed away the tears from under his glasses. Last night, he'd felt so utterly useless as he watched overworked Order members dash in and out of McGonagall's office that he'd lashed out at the only person who even remotely understood what he was going through. Harry had apologized to McGonagall this morning, and she'd accepted it graciously enough, though she had every reason not to. But then she told him there was no way she could organize a relief teacher with everything else going on. Harry had a suspicion it was more to do with keeping him occupied than anything else, but after last night's explosion, he'd gone along with her. And besides, after the night he'd had where he imagined every type of torture Ginny was going through, there was no way Harry could sit still, so he might as well be teaching.

It was in the middle of the night, after hours of tossing and turning, when Harry remembered what Hermione had suggested that afternoon. Maybe he could do the rite with Snape? He had no idea what he had to do...but most rites were pretty similar...and if it meant there was even the remotest chance of Ginny not dying a long and painful death, he could pretty much do anything. And really, that was also what he wanted so badly: to actually do something of consequence. It was a pity it had to include Snape.

Harry had been surprisingly nervous when he had plonked himself down next to a sleepy-looking Hermione in the staff room before class. She had looked at him so lovingly that it made his heart want to break, and when she had said that she was sorry to hear about Ginny, he'd had to blink so many times to keep back the tears. But when he had told Hermione that he was thinking about doing the rite, the witch had practically hugged him she was so pleased. Harry had felt all the curious glances they were getting from the other staff members, but he didn't care...this was Hermione.

Harry flopped down on his unmade bed with a huge sigh and rubbed his stomach gently, trying to ease it. Hermione had quickly arranged for bottles of this vile poison to be delivered to him on the hour every hour for the rest of the day. He knew Snape had brewed it, but Hermione insisted he had to take it; it was for balancing something in him, or was it blocking something in him? Whatever that meant. The day went quickly, and Harry found McGonagall was right...teaching made him keep his mind steady and stopped it from going down frightening tunnels. He didn't see Hermione for the rest of the day, but she left a note on his desk to say she'd come by at eight tonight and that she'd explain everything then.

Harry heaved himself up and poured himself a glass of water...he'd had a raging thirst all day too and was pretty sure it had to do with the potion he was taking. God, he hoped he wasn't being slowly poisoned by Snape. Harry quickly dismissed it from his mind...Hermione would never let anything like that happen to him even if she was friends with that bastard. There was a soft tapping on the door, and Harry quickly strode over and opened it.

'Hi, Harry.' A black-hooded Hermione smiled up at him.

'Come in.'

'No...we don't have time. Snape is waiting. We can talk while we walk.'

Harry's stomach plunged when he heard her mention Snape. God, he had to be in the same room with that git...the horrible reality of the situation was becoming crystal clear. It was going to be a serious exercise in restraint for them both.

'Just a moment. I'll grab my cloak.'

'Get your wand too...we've got to go into the Forbidden Forest.'

'Really?' He hadn't expected that.

Hermione simply nodded, her eyes dark in her face. Harry grabbed his cloak and slammed the door loudly behind him. He shrugged into the cloak and dug around in his pocket to check his wand was still there. The night breeze was cold on his face.

'Shall we?' Hermione lifted up a lantern and started walking towards the small track leading into the dark forest. The moon couldn't be seen yet, but the night was still and clear. They walked side by side for a bit.

'Where are we going?'

'Into the Forbidden Forest.'

'I know that,' Harry growled. 'But why?'

Hermione paused, the entrance into the pitch-black forest right in front of them. There was an eerie silence, and Harry shifted on his feet.

'There is a special place in there that complements my sort of magic.' Hermione placed a hand on his arm. 'It will be all right, Harry. Nothing will harm you tonight. You will be safe, and I will be there the entire time.'

'And Snape...what about him?'

'He is under oath. Anything that happens during the rite he is forbidden to talk about or use in any way.'

Harry was slightly reassured. It was good to know Hermione was there and that Snape would not in anyway be able to use what would take place as fodder for his tongue. 'But what do I have to do?'

'It will be different to what you've ever done before...it is quite unlike the magical rites you have learnt. But it will be all right...you are strong enough. This is the only way we can beat Voldemort or rather you can beat Voldemort.'

'And get Ginny back?' Harry asked.

'There is that as well. After tonight, you will be powerful once more.'

Harry swallowed nervously. Hermione would never say something she didn't believe was likely to happen. The small witch entered the track, and he followed closely behind. It was completely black, so Harry placed a hand on Hermione's slight shoulder; the light from the lantern was confusing him with its brightness and the odd shadows it was casting. They walked in silence for a while, and he smelt fragrant wood smoke before he saw a flickering light coming up from a hole in the ground. Hermione stopped.

'When we enter, you must not speak. No matter how much you might want to...you must not. But remember I will be there...I will keep you safe. Do what Snape tells you to do without question...his task is most difficult. Do what he says, and the rite will create a pattern. Now wait here. Snape will call you.'

Hermione disappeared down the narrow stone steps, leaving the lantern on the ground. Harry shifted uneasily as the dark trees above him swayed heavily. He didn't like the Forbidden Forest; there was something about it that was creepy...not that he'd admit it to anyone. He drew his cloak closer around him and scuffed the rough ground with his boot...the noise loud in the stillness. He breathed in the smoke that billowed up from the underground cave...it had to be thick down there. It smelt nice though, a combination of wood and some sort of earthy incense. Far nicer than the headache-inducing floral stuff Trelawney used. Not in the same league actually. Harry peered down the stairs to see what Hermione and Snape were doing, but couldn't see anything except shafts of shifting light in the dark smoke. There had to be a fire down there. His heart started beating quickly, and a sweat broke out. What had he got himself into? What if this was some sort of sacrificial rite? What if Hermione had joined Snape and become a Death Eater? Harry looked down the tunnel again. He could just walk away. He could do it right now. Nobody could stop him, and apart from Hermione and Snape, no one else would be the wiser.

'Mr. Potter...enter.'

A chill of fear went down Harry's spine at the sound of Snape's voice coming up from deep in the earth. He froze, unsure what to do. Every instinct told him he was putting himself in danger if he descended the steep stone steps, yet amongst the danger there was allure...a mystery. What was it about this rite that it had to be done in secret and away from Hogwarts? And why was straight-shooting Hermione suddenly so cagey? The very setting alone seemed powerfully primitive. Resolutely, he started descending the steps, leaving the lantern behind. As he walked deeper into the earth, his eyes smarted from the waves of smoke, and his nostrils filled with the deep scent of... sandalwood... no, a more earthy smell than that. Harry ran his hands down the narrow, cold, stone walls to steady himself; it was dark, and the stone slab steps were uneven. He couldn't help taking one last look back up at the dark, moving branches of the Forbidden Forest above him before descending the last steps quickly in case he lost his nerve. Harry peered into the dark chamber, but it was hard to make much out except there was a hazy fire in what could be the center of the chamber.

'From now until the end of the rite, Mr. Potter, there will be no talking.'

Harry, startling, spun around. He could make out through the swirling smoke Snape standing perfectly still beside him, and he bit down an angry retort.

'You must now change into appropriate attire for the rite.'

Harry peered at Snape...what on earth was he wearing? It was the first time he had seen the Potions master in anything but copious layers of black. His white chest stood out in the dim light, and his dressing was... curious.

'Take all your clothes off.'

Harry swallowed nervously.

'But I suppose you can leave on your undergarments if you require some type of security,' Snape snidely added.

Harry frowned and glanced about to see if he could see Hermione, but apart from the muted flames of the fire, he couldn't see further than an arm's length. This better bloody well be worth it, he grumbled to himself as he took off his clothes. Luckily, he had a good body...in fact, he knew women greatly admired it, and all men were envious of his six pack of abs. Even so, he resolutely left his boxers on...no way was he going to stand stark naked in front of Snape in the dark.

'I will need to assist you in draping the robe correctly.'

Snape shook out a long length of shimmery material that made the smoke swirl about, allowing Harry to see that Snape had his hair pulled straight back off his face. Apart from his voice and his honker of a nose, Harry would be hard pushed to recognize him as Hogwarts' Potions master. It was most disquieting.

'Lift your arms,' ordered Snape.

Harry froze in shock when Snape put his arms around his waist to wrap the material around him.

'Hold this here,' ordered Snape again, 'and whatever you do, do not let go.'

Harry held the silky, slippery material on his waist. Snape pulled the material so it was secure and tucked it quickly into the waistband of his boxers...much like wrapping a towel around his waist.

'Keep holding firmly.' Snape was frowning in concentration. 'And stand straight.'

The taller man stood in front of him and measured out the remaining material. Harry had no idea what he was doing, but it seemed he was being dressed in the same style as Snape: material around his waist that was pleated at the front and brought up over one shoulder. It reminded him of pictures he'd seen of the robes the Romans used to wear...but more complicated. And it seemed Snape too was finding it complex. As he was folding the material into pleats, he was muttering to himself and had to restart it again twice.

'Move, I need to stand next to you to do this,' said Snape abruptly, straightening when somehow something wasn't right the third time. His anger seemed to be directed more at himself than anything else. 'And keep holding.' He moved and stood right up next to Harry so that their skin touched. Harry had to stop himself from flinching away. Snape was a good few inches taller than him, but skinny. Snape was obviously preoccupied with the task at hand, and Harry heard him grumbling, 'Of all the things I have to do... never thought I would be dressing someone else in robes.'

This time Snape folded the pleats deftly so they fell in precise folds and tucked them securely into Harry's waistband. The taller wizard lifted the remaining material and draped it over one shoulder. He stood back and looked over Harry critically.

'You can let go now.'

Harry quickly let go of the material he was holding, and Snape leaned in and adjusted the material on his shoulder so it sat smoother.

'When you sit down, hold the first three pleats between your fingers.'

Harry nodded, feeling out of his depth. Of all the things he'd expected, being dressed by Snape was certainly not one of them, and the smoke was making his head buzz.

'Follow me.'

Harry scrambled after Snape before he disappeared into the smoke, wincing at the rough ground on his bare feet. The robe felt odd. It restricted his movements; it had to be what it was like for a woman wearing a tight dress, but at the same time was cool on his skin. The smoke was black and billowing, and Harry did not want to be left alone...it was too spooky even if it meant he was with Snape. He was doing this for Ginny, Harry reminded himself furiously. He stepped onto soft material...carpet or a thick rug maybe...and there was a fire on the ground in front of him. Snape sat smoothly down cross-legged, facing the fire, and Harry fumbled, remembering to hold the pleats, and sat awkwardly down next to him. Harry started when he saw through the flickering light of the fire Hermione sitting motionless on the other side with her eyes closed. He was shocked that he could see her breasts. Hermione was wearing a similar robe to his and Snape's, but the material fell between her breasts and not over her shoulder. There was not any attempt to cover them with the material. She didn't have an ounce of spare flesh, and her breasts were small...but nice, noted Harry without much conscious thought. He looked quickly up at Snape to see what his reaction was, but saw he was sitting completely still with his eyes shut. They both were like statues...unrecognizable statues.

At some wordless signal, Hermione hooked a leg over a drum Harry hadn't noticed and slowly started tapping on it...all with her eyes shut. Meanwhile, Snape had opened his eyes and pushed towards him one ornate plate filled with evenly-cut wood and one ornate bowl filled with... he wasn't sure what, but it had a long spoon in it.

'Copy me.'

Snape took a piece of wood from his plate, so Harry did the same. The wizard listened to the beat of the drum and in time with the rhythm placed it in the fire. Harry did the same. The fire crackled hungrily. Snape picked up the bowl, and again, listening to the drum spooned the sticky substance into the fire. Harry did the same. The fire burnt hot, and the oily mixture sent bursts of earthy smoke billowing out, making Harry's eyes sting. The tempo of the drum picked up, and Harry followed Snape, rapidly feeding the fire with wood and the oily mixture, then wood again, until it became a whir. No conscious thought could enter Harry's head except feeding the fire, the boiling heat, the smoke, the beat of the drum. Harry's eyes were permanently fixed on the fire in front of him as it burned higher, brighter, hotter. The beat of the drum was loud in his ears, and everything else faded. Still Harry followed Snape's lead...still the fire burnt hotter and hotter yet. Sweat poured from him until he knew it was dripping off him. Slowly, the beat slowed, releasing him: he was too hot...he was being consumed by fire...panic gripped him; he was being burnt alive both from within and without.

'Stand.'

Snape's voice sounded far away. Harry was tugged upright, and he swayed unsteadily. The drumbeat had lost its furious pace and was now sending out an almost melancholic rhythm. Snape was shiny from the heat.

'Come.'

Snape held him firmly by the arm and led him away from the blazing fire where it was marginally cooler.

'Step in here.'

Snape guided Harry. The fire burnt angrily inside him, and yet strangely at the same time, he could feel a cool, stone floor beneath his feet. A wave of dizziness came over him. Where was the heat coming from? Snape kept a firm grip on his arm, and Harry was reassured by his touch. He looked blearily about and made out a cauldron beside them.

'Water...it will cool you.'

Harry smelt the moistness of the water and heard it being swirled about. Snape released his arm and lifted a ladle. Harry was woozy. Snape started reciting an incantation in a deep voice...it wasn't in a language he recognized, but it sounded pleasant. A cold, wet finger rapidly touched Harry's nostrils, his ears, his chin, his elbows, his navel, his knees and his feet. It was like he was being anointed. The beat of the drum quickened, and Snape repeated it again and again. Coolness spread through him, soothing the blazing inferno somewhat, and Harry became more conscious of his body and his surroundings. His robe was wet on his body...it was good. Again, Snape anointed him with the water, his face perfectly composed in relaxed concentration. The tall man ladled water out from the cauldron again, but this time poured it over one of Harry's shoulders and then the other. The water cascaded down him, and his robes became heavy with wetness, but he didn't care; it was bliss. After the searing heat, anything cool was wonderful. He closed his eyes momentarily to savor it and was shocked by the kaleidoscope of colours moving about.

'Try not to close your eyes, Mr. Potter.'

He reopened them and saw Snape watching him carefully.

'Follow me.'

Snape placed his arm back on Harry's and guided him back to the fire. The robes restricted his legs, but Harry was pleased he wasn't wearing his normal clothes in this heat. This time Snape sat down next to Hermione and guided Harry to sit close on his other side, their legs touching. The witch's eyes were still closed, and she was still beating a slow, gentle rhythm on the drum. The fire was leaping, spitting, crackling, and reveling in its wildness. The heat was pulsating out in waves, and when Harry breathed in, it burnt his lungs. The fragrant smoke made his eyes water, and he knew it was affecting his thinking, but he didn't care. He stared at the hypnotic movements of the flames, seeing its very life force, and suddenly he was enjoying the intense heat, savoring the feel of sweat trickling down his forehead and spine. The drumbeat stopped, and Hermione unhooked her leg from over the drum and rolled it away from the fire. Snape shifted slightly, and she moved and sat cross-legged directly in front of Snape, the fire to the side. Harry watched as Hermione opened her eyes and looked directly at Snape as if oblivious of Harry's existence. She said something in another language quietly, but had a smile playing on her lips. Snape started suddenly, then snorted in amusement, and Harry saw respect burning in Snape's eyes for her. Then they both composed themselves as if remembering what they had to do. Snape moved closer still to the witch so that their knees were touching. Hermione leaned over to the fire, swiftly smeared white cooler ash on her hand and traced something on Snape's chest and down his arms while chanting. The witch smeared more ash from the fire on her hand, and Snape lowered his head so Hermione could trace ash along the bridge of his nose, over his forehead to his widow's peak. All the time Snape's eyes were fixed intently on Hermione's. The wizard moved away from Hermione.

'Face me.'

Harry startled, moved quickly in front of Snape, and the wizard proceeded to smear ash on him in the exact same way as Hermione did to him. The ash was gritty on his chest, and Harry once more felt he was burning alive...as if the ash had reignited the fire inside him. The temperature in the room soared until Harry almost couldn't bear it... Maybe it wasn't the room, Harry blearily thought.... Maybe the fire was inside him. He could hear the fire crackling from within.

'Lean forward.'

Harry did and could feel Snape tracing the ash up his nose and over his forehead. His head was burning in a white-hot heat wave.

'Keep your eyes open...look at me.'

Harry quickly opened them...he hadn't even realized they had dropped shut. Snape's face was inches from his, and he could vaguely feel his knees touching his. It took a surprising amount of effort for Harry just to focus on Snape's pitch-black eyes...they were so black he couldn't differentiate his pupils from his irises. Strangely, his balance came back, and Snape's eyes flicked quickly about his face, nodding his satisfaction about something.

Hermione had continued a low chant, and in front of her were three goblets. Snape took two and passed one on to Harry.

'Drink all of it when I do.'

Snape stilled, and Harry could tell he was listening to the words of the chant for his cue. Then the dark wizard fixed his eyes back on Harry and nodded, lifting his goblet. Harry swigged back the contents in four gulps. It was alcohol of some sort...that much was certain...and it was nice. It was chilled and tasted lightly of peach skin for some strange reason. Harry lowered the goblet and handed it back to Snape. Hermione poured out only two goblets this time from a pitcher. Her flowing movements, her skin glowing in the firelight, her lips moving with the chant, mesmerized Harry. This time, she lifted the goblet to Snape's lips; Harry saw Hermione meet Snape's eyes, and a softness moved across her face. Snape drank it down, his eyes burning into hers, and a trickle went down his chin and neck, and Harry's eyes followed it hungrily. Snape bowed his head to Hermione, picked up the second goblet and turned to him. Harry wanted to hate knowing that Snape was going to hold the goblet while he drank, but he couldn't drum up the emotion.

'Drink it all.'

Harry leaned forward, Snape holding the goblet to his lips, and Harry drank it down thirstily, loving the exquisite, chilled taste. All the time Snape had his eyes fixed on his, but his gaze didn't disturb Harry. He was conscious of the waves of heat pouring out of the fire, the warm dampness of his robes on his skin, Hermione's hypnotic chanting, the burning inside him, the hot inferno raging through every cell in his body.

'Open your eyes.'

Snape's voice filtered through to him, and with huge effort, he forced his reluctant eyelids to open.

'Open your mouth.'

Harry felt Snape's fingers touch his lips as he placed something in his mouth. It was salty. He chewed...it was meat, and its richness tasted good. Harry forced himself to look at Snape, who was holding another cube of meat delicately in his long fingers, waiting for him to swallow. Harry tried to look for Hermione, but she felt too far away...the fire also felt like it had moved a huge distance away from him. Harry felt the burning inside him, the wetness of sweat on his skin, the chanting washing over him and Snape in front of him. The wizard fed him another cube of meat but this time ran his cool finger softly around his lips. It felt nice. Harry focussed on Snape as he chewed. The wizard was looking intently at him...Harry knew Snape was reading him, but he didn't mind. Harry swallowed and looked expectantly at Snape's hands for more, but was disappointed that there wasn't any more.

'Open your mouth.'

The tall man leaned in. Harry felt Snape's lips on his briefly, and a cool, wet tongue pushed another cube of meat into his mouth. Harry knew that on some level something was wrong, but the meat tasted wonderful. He chewed; it tasted better than the previous two, and Harry was spiraling away down interesting channels.

'Open your eyes.'

Harry put all his effort into opening his eyes, and when he did, the only thing he could focus on were Snape's lips; they looked nice to him, gleaming in the firelight. Maybe he would be fed some more from them...maybe they would touch him some more. Harry couldn't stand it. If Snape wasn't going to move, well, he would. There was a cool hand on his chest.

'Wait,' said Snape with a chuckle.

Harry was fascinated when Snape lifted a goblet and drank deeply from it...it was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

'Come closer.'

Harry loved seeing Snape's lips move when he talked and felt Snape cup the back of his head, thankfully guiding him across the distance. His lips felt better than they looked...as if his lips and Snape's belonged together. Harry was being eased down to the floor, and Snape was over him, his body all angles and hardness in a way a woman's never was. Harry opened his mouth, needing to drink him in. Snape's tongue swirled into him, bringing with it the taste of fresh, icy-cold water. A thirst Harry had never known sprung to life; he was no longer burning with heat, but was being enraged by an all-consuming, driving thirst, and Harry tasted the solution. So he sucked, gulped, swallowing into him the cool, cool water, but the more he drank, the more he needed, making the relentless thirst even worse.

Yet somewhere in Harry's fogged brain, he remembered it was Snape he was drinking from...what if he was drinking too much from him? What if Snape couldn't sustain it? With all the effort he could muster, Harry stopped drinking down the heavenly, most exquisite nectar he'd ever tasted. It was coming from deep within Snape...what if he drained Snape completely and left him with too little. Harry fought down the urge to give in and drink until he was sated: he needed to be sure. Snape's tongue retreated slowly...Harry desperately wanted to trap it forever in his mouth, but he couldn't, so he nibbled on Snape's lips instead. The thirst was raging in him, but Harry forced his eyes open. Snape stilled, and his eyes opened quickly. Surprise mixed with worry mixed with... was it pleasure?... shone from them.

'Is everything all right, Mr. Potter?' Snape huskily asked.

His body was wondrously cool over his, and Harry put his arms around him, feeling his slippery back. He didn't want the wizard to move. Snape's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but moved even closer into him so that every part of Harry's body was in some way touching his cool body. Harry tried to find the words, but there were none...it was as if his mouth had forgotten all its other functions other than to drink.

'Mr. Potter?'

Worry flashed across Snape's face, and a luxuriously chilled hand moved down Harry's cheek.

'Can I?' stumbled out of Harry while he furiously thought, please, say yes...he would die of heat and thirst if Snape denied him.

Relief shone from Snape's eyes as he snorted in amusement, and a gentle smile played on his beautiful lips.

'Ah, ever the Gryffindor,' he said, but with softness. 'All that is from me is for you...drink until you are sated.'

That was the only thing Harry needed to hear; he lunged at Snape hungrily, seeking out and devouring his mouth. Snape's sensuous tongue moved into him. With it poured a river of icy cold water, and Harry drank as only a man dying of thirst could, savoring every last drop, knowing his very existence relied on him getting the fluid into him. Every molecule in Harry's entire body clambered to be touched by the flowing water, wanting to be relieved of the heavy burden of heat they were carrying. And still Harry drank, and still the blissful water flowed strongly into him, wanting to be absorbed by him. Snape's water was what Harry had always been seeking, but could never find up until now. Harry knew as he drank it down greedily that what Snape was readily pouring into him was himself. It tasted good.

Stillness washed over his body. It wasn't shocking. It wasn't startling. It wasn't overwhelming or disturbing. But Harry knew deeply that his power had returned. He no longer had his unquenchable thirst; he no longer needed to drink Snape's water...his own flowed soothingly through his body. But Harry did not want to let go of Snape. He needed someone to be close to him and didn't want to be alone quite yet. The stillness and steadiness had come to him through Snape. If the wizard moved away, it too might go and leave him, and he would be plunged back into the fire again.

Snape moved his lips away from Harry's fractionally...he must have sensed the change in him. But Harry leaned upwards, not wanting any distance between them. Snape looked at him curiously.

'You are powerful once more, Mr. Potter. You no longer need to drink,' he whispered softly as if telling him something he might not have realized.

A tidal wave of exhaustion rushed over Harry. He wanted to sleep, yet he ran his hand over Snape's back, not wanting to let go of him. The stillness was deafening and so precious to him that he was anxious it might leave him.

'Stay...it might go,' he stumbled out.

Snape ran a finger down his cheek.

'The power is yours now, Mr. Potter. It will not leave you again.'

Harry nodded, realizing how foolish his logic was, but he couldn't unwrap his arms from around Snape.

'Sleep now. Let your body adjust to your power naturally.'

'Stay?'

'But of course, Mr. Potter, but of course.'

Snape rolled over to Harry's side and pulled him close. Harry laid his head on his shoulder, feeling the fabric of Snape's robe on his cheek...his cool, firm body holding him...and slept.