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Chapter Text

Harry Potter's head fucking hurt. It was resting on something that made him wish he was back on the stone hard floor of his childhood cupboard and he, for the life of him, could not place what it was. He tried to think back to last night, grasping at any memory, any explanation for where he was but it all came up blank. His eyes felt thick and heavy and were sealed shut by a long sleep; when he peeled them open he felt his eyelashes touch something and could only see black so he tried to reach his hands up to move whatever was in front of his eyes but-

The rattling of metal around his wrists, the covering in front of his eyes, the blurry memories - it hit him like a firebolt.

Harry Potter had been kidnapped.

Lashing out around him, he writhed his body in an attempt to get out of the hold of the chains. When he felt himself tiring out, he realised he needed to stop and think clearly. He had no memory of the previous night, only that he had been at the Order's headquarters; he was sitting propped up against a hard, rough wall to which his hands were chained. With controlled breaths, he tried to calm himself down and look back at his auror training but something was fogging up his mind. Harry tried listening, to see if he could hear any breathing or footsteps in the room but all he could hear was the rattling of his chains.

Since Voldemort had been defeated, Harry hadn't realised there were people out there with a grudge against him. Sure, there were the occasional Death Eater sympathisers out there but none were too vocal about it. H could not think of anybody who would want to kidnap him.

Leaning against the wall opposite his captive, Severus Snape watched intently to see his next move. It had taken him longer than expected to realise something was amiss but once he had, Snape had delighted in watching the unfolding events. He seemed to have tired himself out though, so the moment the ex-potions professor had been dreaming of had finally come.

"Harry, Harry, Harry..."

He said, whispering slightly knowing that his prey would be holding on to his every word.

"What are we going to do with you?"

Harry stared straight ahead, trying to hide his surprise at hearing his old professor's voice. He did not want to let on his momentary weakness.

"You know, you really should listen to that old bat weasley when she tells you not to go out wandering at night. Who knows what could have happened to you if I hadn't found you."

Harry did not say a word. He thought Snape was on their side, but turns out he'd been fighting for himself the whole time.

Snape prowled slowly towards Harry, gaze draping over his fighting body. He placed a calloused finger underneath his chin and tilted it upwards, now wishing the blindfold wasn't in the way of Lily's eyes. Harry squirmed under his touch and Snape smirked.

He peeled off the blindfold, delicately lifting it from the younger man's face to reveal those brilliant green eyes glaring up at him. He would have to fix that attitude. Dropping the blindfold onto the floor, he took a moment to rake his eyes over Harry's face. He hadn't seen him in person since the battle of Hogwarts had been won and the boy surely had changed a lot, so much so that he could barely be considered a boy. His jawline had sharpened and was bordered by stubble, his brown skin, which was framed by a somehow messier mop of black hair, had a healthier glow to it now that he wasn't being plagued by a mass murderer.

His eyes were still the same though - beaming beacons guiding him to the one he was destined to be with.

Harry watched as Snape's gaze violated him. It felt too intimate to be this close, to have usually stony eyes soften as they looked at him. He didn't want to show how affected he was, though, so he sat still, sat silently.

Meeting those eyes once more, Snape whispered, "I saved you. You were alone - it was so dangerous! I had to... I had to bring you here to keep you safe." Snape reached out and clasped onto Harry's arms as he said this, desperately holding onto him.

"I can look after myself, Snape."

Harry spoke carefully, starting to suspect that Snape was not in his right mind. These words only confirmed it.

"No. You need me. I will look after you here and I will make sure nobody ever harms you," Though he spoke at a normal volume, the jump from his previous soft whisper made Harry jump. "You don't need to worry anymore, okay? You're safe with me."

Safe with me.

Harry felt anything but. He nodded though, not wanting another outburst.

He let Snape brush his thumb over his face and watched as he turned to walk out of the room, realising with a sigh that he would not be getting out of this one easily.

Chapter Text

Harry laid awake trying to figure out the pieces of the puzzle his life had become. Each time he moved the chains grafted against his wrists and the wall behind him grated at the skin on his back. Snape had left the room many hours ago, hours that had been spent wondering what to do next and gazing around the room he'd found himself in to try to find any escape.
It was quite small, had rough, exposed fieldstone walls and had no natural light source. The wooden floor that he sat on had long since made his behind go numb. The door opposite him looked far too sturdy for him and had a peephole; the thought of what was watching on the other side made him shudder.

Snape paced up and down the kitchen. Now that he had him here, he was unsure what to do next. Sure, he had been planning this for years but it was so overwhelming for it to be finally happening. He knew what he wanted to do but he couldn't - not just yet. If he was honest, Snape was surprised at the boy's reaction - he told him he had saved him! He could at least be grateful of that! Perhaps it was the chains. Admittedly, they weren't the best course of action if he wanted Harry to believe he had been saved but he could make something up. Although he had told himself to leave him to sleep just a little longer, he found himself wandering towards his room.

The hallway to Harry's room was dark and reassuringly quiet - maybe his charge finally went to sleep? He cracked open the door slowly, peeking into the room delicately. He was not asleep.

"Good morning."

Harry did not acknowledge Snape, instead he kept his eyes trained straight ahead.

Walking carefully towards the young man, he said soothingly, "I know this has been a very big ordeal, dear, so I think you should have something to eat, okay?"

Losing his focus, Harry looked up at these words. With those doey green eyes staring up at him, Snape almost lost his train of thought but he pulled himself back to what he was doing.

"I am going to take these chains off of you but I need you to lift your arms up a little, can you do that for me?"

Confused at Snape's change of character, Harry silently lifted his arms as far as he could to let him unlock them. The older man rubbed his wrists gently then helped him onto his feet, letting his boy lean on him as they trudged slowly out to the kitchen.

When they got to the table, Snape helped Harry into a chair then turned to the food he had already prepared.

Harry did not miss his chance.

He bolted out of the kitchen and down the hall, not knowing where he was going but hoping he'd find the exit somewhere. Snape, who hesitated at first out of shock, did not let Harry get far. For he had much more energy than the one who had been locked up in a room without food or water for hours. He tackled him to the ground and straddled over him, pinning his arms above his head, barely out of breath watching the boy try to catch his. He stared down at him, his soft, gentle nature hidden away, now replaced by the fearful professor persona Harry had once feared.

Snape clutched Harry's chin and spat, "Do not dare try that again. I will not go easy on you next time - is that clear?"

Harry tried to wriggle his way out, tried to throw Snape off but he was powerless. Snape pressed down harder on the boy's wrists, bent down and whispered in his ears,

"You are not going anyway, okay boy? You live here now, so you would do well to let any thought of leaving out of your mind."

He pushed off of him and stalked back to the kitchen, banging cupboards and slamming down plates as he prepared food for himself, Potter's left abandoned on the side. Harry stared down the hallway in disbelief, he had just been thinking that Snape would be kind to him and he could convince him to let him go when he snapped. If he wanted to get out of this, he was going to have to play along.

Harry did not speak for the rest of the day, instead silently obeying everything Snape told him to do while carefully observing his reactions. Snape watched the boy intently, curious to see if he would attempt another escape or if this morning's ordeal had beaten it out of him; it seemed to be the latter, he thought smugly.

The day passed uneventfully in the cabin by the lake. Harry lay on the forest green couch staring up at the beams in the ceiling wondering what his life had come to. He traced the beams across the ceiling to the exposed wooden walls which were adorned with obnoxious hunting trophies and green accents. It only took six hours of staring at the same damn ceiling for Harry to crack.

"Why am I here?"

He asked, trying to sound strong but the lack of water cracking his voice.

Snape looked over sharply at his boy, noticing immediately the front he was putting up but pretending not to see it. He paused, took a deep breath and said, "You have made it clear that you are unable to adequately look after yourself and so it is my duty to fulfill that role."

"I'm not a fucking child!" he exclaimed, jumping out of his seat, "I'm not a first year - I'm an adult now and I can look after myself, thank you very much."

"Now, now Harry do not get yourself all worked up-"

"Don't tell me what to do, Snape." Harry stormed out of the room once again, this time knowing exactly where to go after studying the house all day. He made it to the porch and-

"What the fuck-"

They were on an island. An empty jetty jutted out of the rocks but apart from that the tiny island was just filled with trees and overgrown plants.

Watching Harry, Snape leaned against the cabin door, a smirk growing on his face. Harry looked around with growing panic as the realisation set in.

"Do you understand now? Have I made it through to that thick brain of yours or do you need another reminder?" He stalked towards, Harry, pushing him further and further down the jetty until he was only a step away from the edge. Reaching out to grab the collar of his shirt, he glowered down at him, pausing to let the fear creep in then turned, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him back into the house.

Harry could not figure him out; one moment he was calm and gentle, the other he was dangerous and intimidating. How was he supposed to live with him if he had to walk on eggshells around him?

Chapter Text

The days that followed passed slowly without event. Harry spoke rarely, instead curled himself up in an armchair by the window where he sat watching the days go by, watching the lake and watching the sky as the sun rose and set. He had come to admire the beauty of their surroundings. It was so secluded that nature had been left to its own in a way that it often wasn't; all the plants and animals lived in harmony - the birds flitted back and forth singing to each other, deer lapped peacefully at the shoreline and even the most dangerous of predators seemed to be more peaceful than before.

The lakes were nothing like London where Harry had been living Hogwarts where everybody protected themselves and never stopped to care for anybody. He had been doing alright though once he had gotten used to the bustle of the city, especially since it was easier to blend in and be a nobody rather than 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry still could not remember what he had been doing to make Snape want to take him here and it was not like him to go wandering around at night...

Snape could tell his boy was beginning to grow bored of the cabin, though he knew he would never show it. He had been playing with the idea of taking him outside, to swim in the lake perhaps or maybe just to sit on the porch. It was this he mulled over as he watched him late one afternoon, lying lazily on his favourite armchair watching ripples in the water. A loose hair hung over his eyes and all Snape wanted to do was brush it out of his way.

He looks like a caged animal, Snape thought. There is no way I can just leave him here.

"Say, Harry, boy, what do you think of going down to the lake for a swim today?"

Shocked, he snapped his head towards the potions master, mouth gaping open in surprise. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts, a moment Snape took as a yes who, turning to walk back to his bedroom, called over his shoulder, "Get yourself ready, we will depart before sunset."

Harry, who had spent the past few days pondering the tiny island they dwelled on scoffed at that. Their 'departure' would consist of a 10 second walk down to the jetty, the furthest point from the house. Nevertheless, he shrugged off the armchair down the hall, wondering what 'getting ready' would entail. He for sure didn't have any swimming trunks but didn't fancy a skinny dip so he changed into some long fabric shorts he had been sleeping in - Snape wasn't one for shopping trips - and looked aimlessly around his room with a sigh.

Their time to leave came quickly; Harry followed his captor out to the jetty, skeptical of what would come. He wasn't sure what he was expecting Snape to wear, but he was only slightly surprised - there he was, still in his robes which was... not entirely unexpected, though he hadn't thought the common room rumours about him were true.

It was not a night Harry himself would have chosen to go swimming, for a growing breeze nipped at his skin, trapped by the hills and peaks surrounding the lake. The sun was setting ahead of them, but Harry could not stop to admire it as Snape had stopped walking and was now - taking off his robe?

Letting his robe drop to the floor, Snape dived into the lake with a splash while Harry gawped on, blushing when Snape rose to the surface and shook his hair out of his face.

Harry was less eager to jump in, instead dipping his toe in lightly, unaware of Snape's taunting stare as he crept towards him, arms reaching up-

"Wha-!"

Harry shrieked as he was pulled under the freezing water, arms and legs flailing about as he tried to resurface - not quite as gracefully as his predecessor who pulled him up and sat him on his knee. Of course he could stand up in that lake Harry thought later that night when he thought back on it.

"Sorry about that..." Snape began

"Sorry ab-!" Harry splashed him angrily, starting a fight. They splashed about in the lake, neither quite sure how serious they were as they chased each other around.

Harry braced himself against the pole holding up the jetty, ready to kick off it and splash Snape when he caught his eye -his playful expression was gone, replaced with his usually stony mask; Harry was terrified for a second that he'd done something to bring back the Snape of before and that it would only bring bad news. He let go of the jetty and began to tread water, careful not to make any quick movements. Snape, meanwhile, slowly held up a hand, palm facing Harry as he mouthed a word that made Harry's heart drop:

Run.

He hesitated, leaving enough time for a grindylow to attach itself to his leg. He shrieked, thrashing around in the water trying to get it off of him as Snape swam to his help, cursing himself for leaving his wand inside. Blood dispersed in the water as it bit down on the leg he had tried to kick it with. The taller man stood up in the shallows and dragged his charge out of the feisty grip of the grindylow, which hissed when it lost its dinner. With one last tug from its clutch, Snape fell back, Harry landing on him as heaved from the fight. Snape propped himself up, bemused and relieved as Harry shifted on top of him. It took maybe a little too long for Harry to realise who he was sitting on but when he did, he jumped off, so quickly in fact that he nearly toppled over right back into the lake.

The potions professor leapt up and grabbed Harry around the waist, pulling him closer with a smirk, "You see what I mean? You really can't take care of yourself."

Harry, as usual, was too stunned to talk and instead blushed furiously, trying in vain to remove himself from Snape's grasp who chuckled, looking down at him waiting for until he tired himself out.

"You quite alright there?"

"Fuck off"

"Tut, tut, Potter..." he exhaled, hoping he would look up at him, "Don't make me punish you."

That was too far for Harry, who, with an adrenaline fuelled shove, pushed off of him and made his way back up to the cabin in a hurry.

Snape turned with a sigh and looked out over the last slither of sun before it set behind the mountains.

Chapter Text

Racing undercurrents and bracing winds weren't the only things to haunt the island over the days that followed. Snape had received a call back to the mainland and had left his devoted house elf in charge of ensuring Harry did not find himself in any further trouble. While this may seem like a difficult task, Snape had made Harry ingest a new potion of his that, when joined through a charm to the door, pushed him into a deep sleep whenever it opened.

The first day, he didn't wake at all. He was still recovering from the potions he was given to treat the wounds the grindylow had given him. Early on the second day, long before the sun had risen, Harry rose, found himself chained up again, and heaved a sigh. It took a second for him to remember why he was there- Snape had left the island. He shook the chains, thoughts rushing to question whether he would have anything to eat, when the racket brought the sound of hurried footsteps down the hallway. Harry heard the tell-tale rattling of the door and when the door handle twisted, his arms fell loose at his sides.

Snaking vines of neon lights lit the SoHo alley he tumbled down. It was past two am on a Tuesday and Harry had been drinking again. It had been dark, too dark in his apartment and the bars of London were too hard to resist. The alleyways were too familiar among the world he once knew that was slipping through his fingers. He was reaching out to grasp at anything that wouldn't leave him - even if that anything was a hangover and a hookup.

He had just been kicked out of a muggle club because he'd had maybe a sip too much of his drink and shouted a bit too much at the guys surrounding girls and-

Even in his intoxicated state he recognised the thrum of magic when it neared; it near-sobered him to feel it this deep into a muggle area. He slowed his staggering, holding onto the brick wall of the club to steady himself. Harry tried to hear if there were footsteps over his raspy, drunken breathing, but all else he could hear was the rumbling of the generator. He took an unstable step forward and crunched green bottle glass underfoot as his eyes darted around the alley. With shaky, numb hands, he reached for his wand, tucked into his trousers.

It was only the hand he felt reach out and wrap around his wrist with long, bony fingers that quieted his raspy breathing.

Harry woke, jolted up, and smashed back down on the floor again as the chains around his wrists were pulled taut. His room was black, dark, and not his apartment. He leaned back against the stone wall and swallowed. He gasped for breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

That was not a dream.

Twenty-two years of bullshit had taught him that.

He had experienced enough flashbacks and memories to last too many lifetimes to know what that was. A sick, twisted memory that he had no prior recollection of and now he had to fucking deal with as if being on the island wasn't enough.

He knew that hand too, those bony fingers; the same ones that had held him down here so many times - he could never forget them. But how did it end? When did it happen? He wasn't naïve enough to not be able to connect the dots - thanks auror training - but something in him resisted. Slightly, not enough to stop the suggestion from circling in his brain like an impatient golden snitch, but enough to make him pause. Did he want to know? Did he want to believe that Snape had been lying to him, or did he want to keep ignoring the suspicions that had be amounting with every day?

Snape wouldn't be back for two days, and Harry didn't want to know what his return would bring.

He shifted slightly and swallowed again. He could still taste the last thing he'd had before Snape left. A potion, Snape's own invention of course. He hadn't been told what it would do, only that it would 'aide' the house elf looking after him. Whatever that meant, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He refocused to look around the room, not that there was much to look at. The room was slow, if that could be a thing. The air was thick here, it slowed anything down that dared to disturb it. Harry switched his attention from an unremarkable spot on the wall to the door as he heard footsteps outside of it.

Of course! The door! He passed out last time the door opened, that must be what the potion was fo-

"Harry, Harry, Harry..."

The grip around his wrist tightened as he tried to shake him off. Another hand snaked up to his face and clasped at his chin. It turned it slowly, but harshly, to face the man behind him. Green eyes caught cold black ones. A young, tan face was pulled closer to a pale older one.

"Sna-"

"Snape, yes," it murmured, thin lips curling into a smirk, "Your dear potions master Snape."

Harry tried to shake himself out of his grip until a whimper-like sound escaping his lips only caused Snape to pull him closer.

"And what are we doing out here, all alone?"

Snape pulled him closer and used his thumb to separate his lips slightly.

"And what's this? Surely the Chosen One has not been... drinking?"

At this old nickname, Harry wrestled once more. He didn't notice Snape's wand, not even when it was too late.

Harry didn't jolt out of this memory, wasn't even surprised. Just held hung his head low and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, some minutes later, he realised it had been around two days since has last spoke to somebody. When the house elf came to douse him with potions and spells, he was passed out, and Snape would not be returning for some time. The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. Even with what he had just learnt, he still missed some company, even if its legality was dubious.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. He wished he could pace, just to have something to do. There was nothing other than him, the walls, the floor, the door, and the chains in the room. Even the temperature was controlled by a spell to keep it neither too hot nor too cold and he had long since stopped feeling the roughness of the floor. It was too dark to make out any texture on the walls. Too quiet to distract himself.

Not for the first time Harry felt his auror coolness slipping and he began to feel the walls closing in on him. It was hard to breathe - the air was too thick. Oh Merlin, the air was too thick he was going to suffocate, he needed clean air, new air. Air, air. Is there a spell for air?

He began to rock back and forth, his head hitting the wall each time. Soon it began to scrape against his skin and he welcomed the sensation. So much so that he began to grate his arms, his legs against the stone floor and walls just to feel something. He noticed how the chains made a loud clanging as he moved and moved from scraping his skin to waving his arms, just to hear the chime of the chains.

When that was no longer enough, he curled his hands into fists and began smashing the floor. He stopped when he heard the house elf rushing along the hallway outside and instead let out a scream, that was more of a wail and a sob than anything.

Harry lay at the bottom of a small canoe looking up at a morning sky. A small lark flittered across his line of sight. Water lapped at the sides of the boat. Snape sat ahead of him, hands clutched around oars. He turned back to face Harry and stopped rowing. He placed a hand on Harry's leg and smiled, before turning back to row.

Snape had not returned after his pretold three days and it did not take long for Harry to descend into a state of madness. His auror training had prepared him to keep in information during situations like these, not learn it - especially not about members of his own organisation.

The isolation was crushing. Harry craved socialisation, any at all. He could not even see the house elf who came to feed him via potions while he slept. He had begun to come up with theories and stories to keep him going. Like this is just a bad reaction from a potion and I'm actually in a really deep sleep and I'll wake up in Hogwarts soon to Professor Snape berating Ron and I or I had a bad reaction to the grindylow bite and I'm just hallucinating.

He slipped in and out of consciousness as the days passed by. He learnt little more about the happenings of the island but he did see older memories of things he had forgotten; like where he left that tie-dye shirt, or what the Weasley twins did with his broom. The potion Snape had created had not been tested well enough it seemed, since everytime he was made unconscious due to the door opening, he remembered things he had forgotten.

He thought often of the moment when Snape would return and free him from his chains and he could forget about what had happened in his dreams. 

Chapter Text

There were two wall sconces that Harry had not previously taken note of on two walls of the stone room. Harry sat on the wall opposite the door, but crumpled in a corner. The lights flickered on the other two walls, and he wasn't quite sure if they were powered by magic or not. He hadn't taken much note of whether they were burning or not, and it was possible that the house elf stoked them when they came in. It would be easy to check. Harry went to stand up, arm reaching out towards the closest sconce when he felt the tug of the chains. Oh. That.

He slumped back down again and turned his face up to look at the ceiling. He gulped. Snape would be back soon. Snape would be back and he would be able to talk to him again and get out of this room and talk to someone. Most importantly, though, he would be able to berate Snape for leaving him here and that awful malfunctioning potion that had brought up details of the war, details of the day he thought he couldn't possibly have forgotten anything about and yet here he was. 

He didn't know the time in here. He didn't know how many days. He could only guess from the meals brought in by the house elf that it'd been three days since he'd last left this room. Three days without talking to anybody, even Severus who he had slowly grown accustomed to despite his wandering moods. He missed sitting by the window of the cabin - yes, that was it. It was the sitting by the window and watching the life outside go by - the lakes and the wildlife and the clouds. He also had to admit that he enjoyed hearing Severus go about his daily life around the cabin. He had grown to expect the sound of potions sloshing, ingredients being cut and jars clanging. The stone room didn't go below the 'perfect' temperature and Harry found he missed the warmth of the cauldron and the fireplace or the nip of the breeze when they went on their daily walks outside. The first thing he was going to do when Severus returned - after yelling at him, of course - would be to settle himself down at his favourite armchair and wait for him to unpack so he would begin his potion work that was never neglected for long.

But it was one thing to think of when Snape would return - and another to actually live it. He dreaded when the house elf would return and he would be forced to relive another detail that he had forgotten. What would it be next? The face of a classmate strangled in pain as a death eater sunk its magic into them? The face of a grieving parent searching for their missing child in the great hall among the bodies of the other fallen - yet hoping to Merlin they wouldn't find them there, lying amongst the same children they sat next to on the Hogwarts Express at the start of First year? 

He wished he could fight it - even a little. He wished he had a bottle of dreamless sleep - even a drop may help him to forget again what he saw when he awakes.

How long would it be until Severus returned? He craved his attention, just to have the attention of somebody. How many forgotten memories would he have to relive until then?

The dinning room table was packed full of members of the Order of the Phoenix for the last time - officially at least. All the members had gathered here for a final meeting before it was disbanded. For some of the newer members, it was a tight-knit community within the post-war chaos that they would mourn. For others, it was the last reminder of people they had lost, people they themselves had once been, that would pain them the most. This was the last place they had been able to meet with them before the war took them. Some had seen them outside of Grimauld Place for the last time - on the battlefield instead. They had seen their last traitorous  breath flee their lips and been too far away to force it back in. The old Order meetings at Grimauld Place would have been the last time they had seen those people happy, alive, not fighting for their life - or worse, not yet accepting their fate with an infuriating calmness.

It was a bitter evening, but sweet complimented it in its own way. The disbanding of the order meant  there was no need for such a protective force, no reason to have the meetings when there was no threat strong enough for it; this they rejoiced of on the surface, but deep down they each knew the others would never be the same after leaving tonight. 

Harry sat at the head of the table, a position he despised and would be the one thing he did not miss of the meetings. At the far end of the table, on the right hand side, sat Snape staring intently back up at him. Harry, who had begun to feel half lucid the more he felt the potion's effects, was unsure why all the memory focused on was Snape looking at him. He had done that several times, hell! he had done that his first day of Hogwarts. Yet this was a different sort of look, one he couldn't place. As Snape stared, a small smile played on his lips, and he did not seem afraid of anybody observing him. Anybody other than Harry. They stared at each other, one curious, the other... the other indecipherable. The memory ended when McGonagall placed a hand on his shoulder, and dragged him into her conversation. 

The key rattled in the door and Harry groaned. He tried to shake the latest memory out of his mind - there were too many at this point for him to try to decipher - and looked up. The door began to open but Harry did not feel the now familiar tug of the potion's affects. His heart leapt as a long, black leather shoe stepped around the opening door. Severus. He tried to jump up, forgetting about the chains, but instead settled for kneeling, torso stretched out towards the door, arms being tugged back towards the wall. 

His eyes move from the black shoe up a cloaked leg and torso, a neck escaping from a collared shirt and finally-

Snape looked pissed.

Harry sank back into the wall, pulling his chained arms tight around himself. He glanced back up at Severus who watched him from the door - hand still on the handle. Harry tried to open his mouth, tried to get a sound out, to say anything, apologise for something - he didn't know. But after three days of not speaking, no sound came out and somehow that explained it all. 

Severus hesitated for a haunted second, then closed the door slowly and walked over to where Harry knelt, folded in on himself. He bent down and reached out to lift Harry's chin in his hand. 

"Harry."

His voice was smooth and soft, he was dressed in his usual Wizard clothes - a pristine black robe over sharply ironed trousers, black polished loafers underneath. And here was Harry - not unclean, for the house-elf must have charmed him clean, yet not anything like Severus. Never anything like Severus. He tugged his chin away from Snape's grip and bowed his head. Snape cupped his cheek and brushed his thumb against it gently, carefully. Harry wished he didn't want to lean into it, wished he didn't want to look up and apologise for moving, but it had been too long, so so long...

Harry uttered a soft, primal sound, not out of desire to be touched, but desire to be loved, cared for. The things Snape had promised he had been brought here for, yet he still craved. 

Severus shushed him, and placed his other hand on his other cheek and pulled his face closer. He shushed him again, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He repeated those words again and again while checking over Harry's body for injuries, for signs that the house elf had wronged him. All the while, he kept his hands on Harry, fingers brushing his skin to comfort him. Harry leant into his kidnapper and let the tears fall.

Later that day, as the sun began to set, Harry lay curled up in his armchair watching Snape move about the cabin. He couldn't keep his eyes off of him, in case he left out the cabin door and never returned. As he watched, he wondered what he had been up to on the three days he'd been gone. Whatever it was, it seemed to have stressed him out, and Harry wished there was some way for him to help. The best way, it seemed, for him to help would be to not mention the potion malfunction, as he didn't want to add to the stresses Severus was experiencing. 

"I will need to find you a hobby other than watching me, deer."

"Deer?"

"You're not the only one who's been watching. I see you and that little deer outside your window have many similarities."

"Oh?" Harry choked out, wanting to keep the rare conversation going, but not sure how.

"Mhm. You're both easily startled and yet in some way adorable."

Harry raised a pillow to throw at him but Severus caught it with wordless magic the second it left his hand. Silence fell on the room as Harry swallowed and looked down. The reminder of the magic he could no longer do, thanks to the wards his captor (savior?) had put on the house, stung. He was meant to do magic, he was designed for it. The lack of it made him feel lifeless and yet Snape used it for trivial things. He couldn't even throw a pillow without Snape overpowering him.

Snape rose from the kitchen stool he had been sitting on and went over to Harry's window seat. He stood looking out the window as he spoke;

"I have a visitor coming, Harry."

Harry risked a glance up at him when he heard his name. He was standing looking out after the deer he had recognised Harry in, but a feint frown played on his lips. His eyebrows were furrowed and his usual gloating stance missing, replaced instead by what seemed a more guarded one.

"They," He paused to collect his words and, with a small private chuckle, continued, "They have invited themselves, deer, but I couldn't turn them away, as much as I bloody- It doesn't matter. While they're here, though, you will have to leave the island."

Harry couldn't help himself, he jolted up so he was practically about to leap out of the armchair when Severus spoke again.

"The house elf will take you and it will only be for a few hours, please don't fret. I wish this wasn't the case but you will see me again before you know it.", Severus spoke these last words quickly, seeing the effect the conversation was having on Harry.

As this sank in, Harry felt the darkness of the stone room spreading over him. He rose from the armchair and went to stand next to Severus, wrapping his hands around his arm and gripping him tight.

Severus directed Harry to the travel bag on his bed while he loaded up a trunk of food and supplies onto the small boat. He sent him to fetch a locket which Severus had retrieved from his home during his trip. He was giving it to him to remember him by during the short hours he would be gone, as the deer had become rather clingy since the trip.

The cabin was dark and quiet, as Severus and the house elf were outside on the jetty. Harry traced his finger tips along the cladding of the wall as he walked down the hallway he had once tried to escape down. Fool, he thought, the exit was the other way. Severus's room was right at the end and his bed faced the door. The travel bag was exactly where Severus had said it would be and Harry walked quickly to it - he didn't think it would be favoured to snoop around the room. He rummaged through robes and dirty socks, relishing in the thrum of the magic on the bag. Even if it was just in traces, the feeling of the spells and wards brought immense comfort to him. He kept rummaging until he felt the side of his hand snag against something, and felt the unwelcomed sting of a paper cut. He pulled out his hand and sucked absentmindedly on the blood that surfaced.

When he reached back in to remove the paper that had caused it, he wished he had just ignored the cut and kept going. Looking up at him from where he dropped the paper on the bed was his face. His face reaching towards him and searching the room behind him.

A missing poster.

A missing poster with his name plastered over it.

Oh, Merlin...

A throat cleared behind him and in that instant, Harry wished he hadn't even asked Snape for something to remember him by, wished he hadn't said anything, just done willingly what he was told and nothing more. And yet here he was. About to be murdered on an island and nobody would ever know.

"Did you get the locket, deer?"

Harry took in a sharp breath at the sound of his captor's voice behind him. He must not have seen the poster in his hand yet, he still had time!

"Harry?"

He still had time, but he wanted answers, so he turned against his every instinct and said with a voice firmer than he felt, "What's this?"

He turned around and held out the poster to Snape, whose eyes flickered down to it and then back up to Harry's questioning gaze with a small, lazy smirk. He took two steps forward to close the distance between them, took the poster from him with one hand, and placed the other on Harry's shoulder. He leant forward and planted a soft, ghostly kiss on his forehead - so soft, Harry was sure he had imagined it.

"It's called saving face, deer." He let go of Harry and incinerated the poster with wandless magic, "If the public knew of your state of... how you had to be taken into my care because you couldn't look after yourself, well Harry there'd be chaos and you know that."

He moved passed him and rummaged around in the travel bag, taking out the locket and turning it over in his palm as he walked back to stand in front of Harry, who hadn't, couldn't, moved. 

"Move your hair for me, deer," Harry complied, stunned, and Severus placed the locket around his neck, moved his hair back in place, and gripped both of his shoulders tightly, "I am sorry if things have been difficult here, Harry, but this the way they must be. When you have shown me that you can look after yourself, we will clear up the rumours back home. Okay, pet?"

Harry's eyes flicked up to Severus' at the new nickname, but nodded quietly and whispered, "I'm sorry," though he wasn't sure he knew what for.

Sitting hugging his knees up to his chest, Harry replayed the goodbyes on the jetty and the moments before it. It had been difficult, and it hurt, especially as he struggled to make sense of what to believe. He knew from the memories that Snape had crept up on him in a muggle alley - but that could be unrelated. It could be unrelated... but he knew in his heart it wasn't. Because what else could the memory of them on the canoe have meant? The canoe..

He realised with a start that this must be the very same one. The house elf did not flinch when Harry jumped up; the boat did not rock, it was powered by magic; the house elf kept staring straight ahead. 

"What do you know about Snape?", He whispered to the house elf, even though they should be far out of Snape's hearing by now. He crouched back down out of fear of falling from the boat, but kept a stance ready to jump up, even with nowhere to go.

The house elf did not answer.

Harry asked him again, and again received no reply. 

He slouched down into the seat of the canoe. That house elf was under an imperius curse - he couldn't believe he'd not sensed it before. Of course he had felt the magic radiating from the elf, but elves had magic too so he'd ignored it. If Snape had put this elf under a curse - what else would he do? An unforgiveable - there were worse unforgiveable curses... would he use one on him when he realised he'd figured it out? 

Snape had kidnapped and lied to him, and cursed an elf... in the middle of bloody nowhere...

Harry dropped his head into his hands and let the sobs rack his body.

"Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry..."

Harry's head shot up at the sound of Snape's voice. He gripped the sides of the canoe and spun his torso around, looking for Snape even though he knew he could not be near.

"I should have just kept you in the stone room to rot while my visitor is here. Perhaps I will, there's still time left I believe."

Harry looked across now at the house elf and saw a glint in its eyes that he was too afraid to admit to recognising. He didn't want to admit to himself that he knew Snape was capable of creating spells and potions like he had before - he didn't want to acknowledge that anybody could create a spell like that - one where they could possess somebody's body and look out of their eyes, speak from their lips. But here it was before him. Severus Snape violating the body in front of him in the worst way. When had that house elf last controlled its own body? Was it still in there? Merlin... He didn't know whether it would be worse if it was trapped in there, or if Snape had clawed it out to suit his own desires.

When the last word had echoed out across the lakes, the boat began to slowly spin around and return to the jetty, so slowly that Harry didn't notice at first. When he did, he jumped up and began to climb over the edge, anything to escape going back there - but the house elf rose sharply and tugged him back down. They performed a spell to restrain his hands and then returned to their seat. All the while not a single sign of life flittering across their face. 

If that's what Snape was planning on turning him into, he wished the grindylow had got to him first.

That's what he thought about as the boat returned tauntingly slow to the jetty. The first days he was here when he would sit at his armchair and watch the lakes and the day Snape took them swimming and how he thought that he could make this work. How he believed Snape because he didn't remember and Snape wouldn't lie, right? 

When the canoe bumped the jetty, he hoped with an ache deep in his heart that death would claim him before Snape would, but he feared he had used up all his luck already.

Chapter Text

"After all this time at the lakes, you only just figured it out?", Snape spat, heaving Harry out of the canoe and gripping his shirt to pull him closer, "That I brought you here because I love you? Because I had to keep you safe somehow and it wasn't possible out there? You're just as much of a blithering idiot as you were at Hogwarts."

Harry reeled at these words and tried to get out of Snape's grip but he was clung to like he was afraid Harry could do anything, like he could go anywhere. Snape loved him? At least he had seemingly admitted to something - that this *was* a kidnapping, and nobody had been consulted like he had suggested. He gave up trying to escape and instead looked him dead in the eyes and said,

"I don't fucking love you. Nobody could ever love such a pathetic leech like you."

He shouldn't have said those words - and should have regretted it when he did, but it was too late. They were out there with the mountains and the valley to witness. Snape didn't react immediately, instead he just stared back, mouth opening and closing, before something in him snapped, and Harry knew he was in for it.

"You fool." He shouted, almost screamed, at Harry before dragging him along the jetty to the cabin. He took him down the corridor that had been his first chance at escape, and would now be one of the last things he would see, and shoved him into the stone room. 

He didn't let go though, instead he locked him back into the chains, seemingly immune to Harry's fighting and battering. Once Harry was writhing and kicking in the chains, Snape took enough steps to be safe from the onslaught, but still close enough that Harry could feel the wrath of his magic radiating in furious pulses around the room. Shit.

"You don't love me, hm? Then what about when you were practically on your knees begging for my attention, just yesterday when I returned? What about that, deer?" He spat out what once had been an endearing term with such hatred, Harry flinched, sure that it was venomous.

His face contorted into a scowl, but he didn't have time to fire back his retort when Snape continued,

"Or when I kissed your forehead this morning and even the lifeless house elf heard your desperate whimper?"

Harry was too enraged at the reminder of the house elf to notice Snape edging closer.

"What about then, Harry - did you not love me then? What about when you clung to my arm yesterday? Just admit it! You need me, Harry, and you love me. You always have."

Harry writhed in the chains, furious and terrified at how this would end, but he still didn't have enough sense to stay quiet as he said, stressing each word as he looked straight into Snape's eyes,

"I don't love you."

He expected the slap as it ripped across his face, but could not have seen coming the crucio that followed while he was still reeling. Furious slashes of white hot pain raced across his body as his nerves seemed to rip themselves apart so as not to feel the magic clawing at them. His breath escaped in gulping pleas for more oxygen. The curse seemed to bounce around his body, different limbs feeling flashes of pain for brief eternities before it moved to another part of his body. His vision clouded, his eyes felt like they were crossing. A small, animalistic groan escaped his lips, and he was glad that something of his was able to leave his body and escape the torture. Harry didn't know how long it lasted, he couldn't even string words together to even wonder that. 

Snape stopped the curse and took a step back as Harry slumped forward and gulped in air. His heaving breaths were the only sound in the room. Snape observed patiently.

Slowly recovering his thoughts, Harry lifted his head, looked his captor straight in the eye, and opened his mouth to say-

The chime of the wards to announce an apparition sounded throughout the cabin; the visitor. 

Harry lay slumped against the wall after Snape left to greet his visitor. Once he had recovered his thoughts, his mind raced through everything that had happened over and over again, focusing on the crucio curse that had tore through his body. Snape had kidnapped him because he was in love with him, and thought Harry could feel the same. Snape had kidnapped him because-

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and so did voices, which Harry noted with a mix of surprise and horror. If Harry could hear the voices, it meant that Snape had forgotten to put a silencing charm back on the room, but it also meant that he could hear them coming this way.  He held his breath as they came closer, but some last inkling of luck had them pass his room. He listened, taking small, silent breaths, to them walking into Snape's room. They paused there briefly, for what could be no longer than three minutes, before beginning to walk down the hallway again.

If they were coming into the room, he had about five seconds left before Snape brought in the visitor he had tried to hide Harry from in fear they would hurt him. If they passed the room, Harry had five seconds left before he potentially lost somebody who could help him.

Five.

Four.

Harry began yelling louder than when the stadium had during the Triwizard tournament. 

Three.

He banged his chains against the stone wall, not caring that they were grating against his wrist.

Two.

He somehow heard the voices over his racket, yelling at him, at each other?

One.

The door to the stone room flew open.

In that moment, time itself paused from its duties to see how this would unfold. 

McGonagall burst through the door to the stone room and froze when she saw her ex-student chained to the wall opposite her. She turned and faced Snape with more rage than Harry had ever seen, which she released onto him.

They duelled at the entrance to the room, flashes and sparks of magic going between them so quickly that Harry couldn't keep track of who was winning and who was loosing. He closed his eyes. The shouts and cries, scraping of shoes on the stone floor, the door hitting the wall repeatedly as they bumped into it - all the sounds pilled onto him, burdened him.

If McGonagall lost, she would die trying to save him. If Snape won, Harry would rather die than become a slave to him.

If-

He rocked back and forth. He hated the feel of the chains on his skin. He tried to claw them off, tried to rid himself of the feeling of their weight on his body. Water dripped onto his skin as he he shook and he looked up, dreading to see a leak in the ceiling that would cause him to rot away. Perhaps that would be a blessing. But he couldn't see a leak. There was no leak. There was no leak so where was the water coming from? He looked around the room, trying to avoid looking at the battle before him.

The battle-

Harry felt the water dripping on him more, he felt it now sliding down his face, down his neck. He could still hear them fighting now and Merlin he wished they would stop. He wished whoever was going to win to just stop and claim him already and do whatever they were going to do to him.

The last tendrils of the crucio spell bounced around his body and he shuddered. He slipped into a heavy sleep and hoped with his last lucid thoughts that he wouldn't awake from it.

He did. He did and Merlin it hurt.

Every bone in his body berated him for moving. His head was splitting in two, he was sure of it, and throat was dry and screaming at him.

Beneath him was not the unforgiving floor of the stone room, but instead a soft mattress and he knew immediately that must be worse. Had Snape won and-?

He opened his eyes and shot up quickly in bed. 

McGonagall rushed over from the other side of- the infirmary? She had taken him back to Hogwarts? Which meant-

"It's okay, Harry, it's okay! You're safe from him now." She repeated, coming over to stand by his bed and coax him into lying back down, "All you need to think about now is getting better, okay?"

He let her lie him back down but turned to her questioningly, "Wha-"

"Shh, shh, I'll tell you all when the time is right."

He fell into a long, dreamless sleep.

"So none of you knew?"

"No. We searched everywhere for you, I promise, Harry. We didn't suspect Snape because he had been at his lake house, and he came to help us look. We didn't think-"

She buried her face in her hands. 

"It's okay Headmistress," Harry's voice was coarse but he was determined to get the words out, "You found me in the end and only a little worse for wear." He cracked a small smile.

"Harry... This should never have been able to happen."

McGonagall rose from the chair she had occupied and sat down on his bed, taking his hand into her own.

"Snape... he never quite recovered from the war - not that many of us did but he," She shook her head before continuing, "He's going to get the help he needs now. When he left you to help us look for you, he wasn't himself, I should have known..."

She stopped herself and smiled tightly at him.

"But it's over now and we have you here. Back at Hogwarts once again."

She stood up sharply and left the room.

Chapter Text

Seven weeks had passed since Harry had been kidnapped, and he was only just returning to work. He had wanted to return earlier, but Madame Pomfrey had refused to let him out of the infirmary until every single cut, bruise and bump on his body had been healed to be even better than he was before. Then, he had been sent for 10 mandatory sessions with a mind healer before he could be evaluated by the ministry to see if he was fit to return to work. It was exhausting. He had to relive every moment of his kidnapping, first to McGonagall, then to aurors - some of them his co-workers -, then to anybody he felt too bad to say no to. After all that ordeal in the infirmary, he had to retell it twice a week for the mind healer.

He'd gone to the mandatory sessions and despised them at first. For the whole of the first hour he didn't utter a word. And the healer just let him. The sat in a comfortable silence for fifty minutes before the healer slapped his knees, stood up and said, "Same time next week?".

It had taken him a few more sessions to finally feel comfortable even talking about his life since Snape, let alone during. But when he did he found it... cathartic? Helpful? It hurt to re-live it it but he felt it getting a tiny bit easier each time. However, so much time spent delaying returning to work meant when he got the all clear, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It took two more weeks of moping around his flat, going to the mind healer, and convincing himself to go for him to finally be able to fire call into work and let his assistant know he would be returning the next day. Today.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or frustrated that everything was the same since he had left. His office was exactly where he left things, the same tiles were loose down the alley where he went to smoke during his break; everything was unaffected - except him. But he used the techniques he had learnt from the healer and got on with it - because that's how he'd always done things. But now it was different, because he'd had a test to put his auror skills to work in the field instead of sitting at a desk in a better office than his colleagues and he had failed. He hadn't been able to escape, he hadn't been able to figure things out. He was an embarrassment.  When he walked in in the morning, he had fully expected his boss to be standing outside the department door with his arms crossed ready to call him in for an evaluation. He was waiting there. Harry's heart had sank when he turned the corner. But he was met instead with a tight smile, a pat on the back and a, "Welcome back,".

Harry had been on edge all day, even when he went out for his smoke and expected his spot to be taken like they were all first years at Hogwarts again.

Everything was fine, nobody was mad. It felt wrong. Harry played with the tip of his tie as he waited for his turn to floo out of the ministry.  He felt a dread rush through his veins as a hand clapped his shoulder and he stayed staring at the queue in front of him. "Harry? HARRY!"

He looked up to see his friend Ron waving his hand in front of his face and yelling his name. Oh.

He'd promised to meet up with Ron and Hermione after work today - another effort in convincing them everything was fine and easing their futile guilt. The sounds of the Ministry foyer echoed in his ears, making it impossible to focus on just one thing. When Ron turned him around to face him, he tried to act normal, tried to smile and nod at the right times and hope his friend wouldn't notice that he couldn't understand a thing. Ron led them away from the floo and out towards the telephone exit where Hermione was waiting with the car.

Cars. Lots of them rushing either side of him. They were out on the street. Harry wasn't sure where he should step, where to look. He wasn't even sure how they'd gotten outside so quickly. He reached out for Ron and clutched at his arm tightly. Too tight. Ron was looking at him weirdly. Ron. He twisted around at the waist to look for Hermione - she was supposed to be out here. Maybe those cars got her. Cars. He was in the car now, so quickly. He leaned against the window as his seatbelt was strapped in by shaking hands. Hermione's face hovered over him, concerned.

He sat up. Don't worry them, no worrying. He gave them something like a smile and turned to look out the window.

Long black hair, raven eyes, sharp, angular facial structure. He blinked. Blinked and it was gone. Blinked again except it was too hard to open his eyes again. He fell back against the car seat, vaguely aware of voices and hands on his body. He tried to lift his head up from the seat but it slammed back down again. His head fucking hurt.