Chapter 3
Severus sent Granger out to go to lunch and put a sign in front of the classroom door that class was cancelled for the rest of the day. He attempted to join the rest of the staff in the great hall for lunch, but when he noticed that Potter was missing from the Gryffindor table, it felt impossible to stay there.
Soulmates. Severus had long dismissed the fairy tail notion of such things existing, especially after Lily. He shouldn’t be surprised the universe would tie the spitting image of his worst enemy to him in that way. It was impossible to tell what emotion Potter was feeling most. The river was multicolored, no color showing up more than another. Severus noted fear, frustration, shock, and panic among others. With how quickly Potter went into a panic attack in his office, he had no doubt that the boy was somewhere spiraling.
He sighed and ate one last bite, the food tasting like ash in his mouth. As unaffected as he was trying to appear, he was very much affected. This was the last thing he expected to happen. Severus stood and walked out of the great hall. He paused in the corridor. He could go back to the dungeons and attempt to block out Potter. Or he could go and find him. Looking between the stairs and the castle exit, Severus didn’t have to think too hard about his decision. His feet were already carrying him outside.
Severus hated the big tree next to the lake. All it reminded him of was James Potter and his band of idiots. He usually made a point to avoid it, but the shock of black hair against the green grass at the base of the tree had him moving in that direction.
Potter was lying on his back, his eyes closed. Severus wondered if he was trying to calm himself, but the whirlwind of emotions told him that the boy was failing. Horribly. He wasn’t surprised. Potter had never been able to clear his mind the year before. Severus would have been shocked if he was able to do so now.
When Potter didn’t move, Severus knew he had approached undetected. Looking at his face and body, someone who didn’t know what he was feeling would most likely assume that Potter was asleep. Wishing he had ignored the pull that had brought him out there, Severus sat down in the grass next to him. Potter frowned, but didn’t move.
Severus kept his voice soft and calm when he spoke. “Did you try breathing?”
A green eye cracked open, looking up at him disdainfully. “Of course not. I’m not intelligent enough to think of that on my own.”
He coughed, trying to hide the laugh that almost spilled out of him. “Clearly.” Potter’s eye closed again. Severus let the silence carry for another moment. “Would it help if I told you that you need to clear your mind?”
“I will throw you into the lake. I’m beyond caring of the consequences at the current moment.”
A soft snort escaped. “You might not want to hear it, but it’s true. Breathe. Through your nose as you did earlier. Focus only on the feel of the air entering and leaving your body,” he ordered, keeping his voice in that soft register.
Severus felt when Potter’s thoughts finally calmed. The river was that blue he enjoyed. He paused for a moment, shaking his head. He did not enjoy it. He was only relieved that Potter wasn’t filling his head with emotions anymore.
“Why couldn’t you have just said that last year?”
“Said what?” Potter’s eyes were still closed.
“Those instructions. You actually explained how to do it. You never did that last year. You’d only ever order me to ‘clear your mind’, and then you’d practically assault my brain.”
Severus glared down at the boy at the poor imitation of his voice. “There was a whole point to that. You were too incompetent to pick it up.”
“Whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes, even knowing Potter couldn’t see. A few minutes of silence passed. “What do we do?” Potter whispered.
He sighed. “I’m not sure what we can do.”
Potter cracked open his eye again. “There’s actually something you don’t know?”
“Potter.” The boy closed his eye, chuckling softly. Severus sighed. “We could go to the headmaster.”
Potter opened both of his eyes and looked at him. “Dumbledore?!?! No!” He sat up. “The entire castle will know about it by dinner.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You think the headmaster will gossip about this?”
“Yes!”
Severus shook his head. “I can assure you, he would not do that.”
Potter shook his head back. He thought it was another poor imitation, but the look on his face had Severus wondering if it was done subconsciously. “If everyone finds out, I’m blaming you.”
He stood. “Then blame me. We’ll deal with it if it happens.” Severus held out a hand to help Potter stand.
The boy eyed it and then eyed him suspiciously. “Why aren’t you trying to kill me or freaking out about this?”
“Would either of those things actually help us in this situation?” When Potter shook his head, Severus smirked. “Then you have your answer.”
Hesitantly, Potter took the offered hand and allowed Severus to help him up. He couldn’t help but notice that the boy seemed much lighter than what he should have been. He filed that away to think about later as they made their way to the headmaster’s office.
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Dumbledore’s laugh had Harry staring daggers at Snape. He hoped the professor could sense the ‘I told you so’ that he was throwing at him. “A soulmate bond has no way to be negated. It is permanent. Congratulations, boys.”
Snape was scowling. Harry was torn between frustration and amusement. From the glare Snape gave him, he knew he could sense it. “Headmaster, there must be a way to at least cancel his emotions from invading my mind.”
“Occlumency-“
“Doesn’t work.”
“Hmm.” Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling. Harry hated when Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. It was practically a clear sign that they were definitely fucked. “I will do some research into the matter, but I don’t have much confidence that anything can be done.”
The headmaster looked back and forth between teacher and student. “Since Harry is above the age of consent, the both of you shouldn’t worry about any legal action should you decide to further the relationship.”
It took Harry a minute. A full minute. For him to figure out what Dumbledore was talking about. His eyes dropped and stared a hole into the headmaster’s desk. He didn’t know how Snape was reacting, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to look at him. Harry didn’t think he would be able to look at him ever again. He cringed, remembering that Snape knew what he was feeling. He doubted that he would ever actually get used to that.
No one spoke for several minutes. Dumbledore stood. “If that’s all boys, I think I will let the two of you get to your evening. I’ll do my best to research the situation, but I don’t want either of you to get your hopes up.”
Harry stood and bowed his head slightly to the headmaster before turning and walking out. He didn’t wait for Snape. He didn’t look to see if Snape was going to leave as well. He walked down the stairs and started down the corridor, wanting to gain distance.
The idea of having a soulmate, let alone Snape being the soulmate, still hadn’t settled. The fact that Dumbledore didn’t seem fazed unsettled him further. Actually, the old man seemed almost pleased with the information. Not to even mention the… encouragement. He shuddered. Harry did not want to think about that. He didn’t ever want to think about that. Besides, being soulmates did not mean that a relationship needed to further between them. There was no way Snape would even want him like that.
He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. Harry didn’t care what Snape wanted because he wasn’t interested in the professor and never would be. He groaned as he resumed walking. He let his feet carry him to throughout the castle as he contemplated his life.
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Harry couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get any air. One hand was rubbing at his chest and the other one was tenderly touching his neck. He could still feel the hand around it. The nightmares were usually vivid, but the ones that were inspired by actual events were even more so. Deciding he needed to get out of the stuffy dorm, he quietly slid out of bed and left the tower.
It was well past curfew. Harry knew there was a chance that Filch or a professor might catch him. He was too desperate to calm down to care. There was an old corridor that no one ever went down that he had found the year before and he made his way there. Down towards the end of it, there was a massive window with a bench in front of it. Harry went straight to it and curled up on the bench, putting his arms on the window sill and resting his head on top of them.
His breathing still wasn’t calm. He was used to nightmares. Harry typically had more nightmares than regular dreams. But after the events of the summer, the nightmares were too much, too real. His brain had plenty to choose from to torment him with. He felt himself wrapping his hand around his throat again gently, the memory of the dream and the event inspiring it bouncing around in his head. The panic, that had started to calm, came back in waves again.
The bench shifted under him, and he flinched violently when a hand grabbed at the wrist at his neck. Harry opened his eyes to see Snape sitting next to him, something akin to concern shining in his dark eyes. “Let go,” the professor whispered. Harry was confused. Let go of what? “Your throat, Harry. Let go.”
With an awareness he didn’t realize he was missing, Harry finally noted that he wasn’t breathing. His hand was wrapped tightly around his throat in an imitation of what his uncle did in the nightmare and it was cutting off his air. He forced his fingers to release, sucking in a large gulp of air.
Harry closed his eyes as he breathed heavily, resting his forehead against the window sill. He felt his eyes burning. He had never done that before. Never gotten so lost in the memory or the nightmare that he tried to accidentally recreate it. A thumb running circles against the back of his hand drew him back from his thoughts. His body shuddered, but he didn’t move.
His breathing eventually calmed. Sensing that, Snape finally spoke. “Can I take a look at your neck?”
Harry lifted his head, but didn’t open his eyes. He knew that if he did, the tears would fall and he would be damned if he cried in front of the professor. He flinched when he felt a hand brush against his throat. Snape was still holding his hand with the other one, his thumb moving as though the man was trying to soothe him.
“I don’t believe it will bruise. While you were holding it enough to close your airway, you were not holding it tight enough to actually hurt it.” The hand at his throat disappeared.
When he felt confident that he wouldn’t cry, Harry opened his eyes. Snape’s face still showed concern. The man’s thumb was still moving against his hand.
Harry’s soft scoff echoed down the corridor. “I’m fine, Professor. You don’t have to be worried.” That thumb finally paused, but Snape didn’t let him go.
“You forget that I can see your emotions.”
He winced. He had forgotten that. Again. “That doesn’t mean you suddenly care. You haven’t cared about me for the last five years. Suddenly being able to know what I’m feeling doesn’t change that.”
Snape’s hold on his hand tightened. “It’s nightmares, I presume?”
Harry went still. Were they that obvious through the bond? He started trying to pull his hand from Snape’s. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not with anyone and certainly not with Snape. The professor let him pull, but didn’t release him.
“Let me go,” he whispered, closing his eyes again. He wanted to go back to his bed in his dorm and forget the night even happened.
“How many of them are inspired by actual events?”
He flinched again. “I’m not talking about them with you.”
“So you admit they exist.”
Harry opened his eyes, anger coursing through him. Snape wasn’t sneering at him or looking at him with judgement, but he knew better than to believe that would last long. “You aren’t entitled to that information.”
“You could have suffocated.” Snape’s voice was quiet.
“And you would have celebrated.” The visible flinch from Snape caused the man to release his hold just enough for Harry to pull his hand away and stand to his feet. As he was walking down the corridor back towards Gryffindor tower, Harry couldn’t help but notice the back of his hand felt cold without the oddly gentle feel of Snape’s thumb against it.