NOTE: Mild BDSM content.

~

It’s funny that my most prized possession once belonged to a woman I hated. She was in no condition to miss it when she finally left. Don’t feel sorry for her – she got what she deserved. I can still see the lines I traced into my hand.

All it took was a little modification, though, and it became a thing of beauty.

Binns is droning at the front of the class; the sun is beaming down outside. We swelter quietly, stripped to our shirtsleeves, pretending to write notes while our minds wander far from here. I flourish my quill a little.

Seamus shifts in his seat. His shirt is clinging to his back, damp with sweat. Here and there, unobtrusively, it is flecked with blood. He’ll cover it with his robe when he leaves, and no-one will know, except me. Tonight, with fingers and tongue, I’ll rediscover every tiny mark. Maybe I’ll heal him. Maybe I’ll make him bleed for me again. Whichever I choose, I guarantee he will beg me for it.

I glance around the room, idly wondering how many of the pupils in it I’ve signed my name onto, somewhere where it can be felt but not seen. I tend to lose track a little.

Don’t feel sorry for them either. They love it.

It was the end of the beginning. An unnatural silence fell in the Swamp. It wasn't as if they had never fought before, but this fight was - harder. Symbolic of something bigger.

Hawkeye felt Trapper's words straining with the weight of representation. Heard him rant about his damned risk taking, how he was stupid to risk his reputation, their safety, knew what he was actually saying.

The rift would be healed, with soft words, soft touches, caution. An end to those first heady days, their feeling of invulnerability.

They would continue. But they both knew the honeymoon was over.

The hand on the back of his neck flared hot as the long incantation came to an end. There was a moment of stillness, and then the pressure on his nape eased.

"You can open your eyes now, Sev."

Harry's voice, soft and low and rough, seemed to have a new quality to it he hadn't heard before, although he couldn't tell exactly what it was. He obeyed, looking cautiously around the room. There didn't seem to be anything different there. Then Harry came from behind him, cradling something in his arms that looked as if it was moving.

"Say hello to her."

It was a snake; a large and beautiful one, although Snape wasn't quite sure of its species. Feeling a little foolish, he said, "Hello."

"Niccce to meet you," the snake replied.

Snape stared.

He kept on staring as Harry said something to her, quietly, and put her back in her tank. Then he pulled him into a long, lingering kiss.

"Ssso," Harry hissed in his ear when they finally broke apart, "do you like your birthday pressent?"

There was only one reply to that.

"It's jussst what I alwayss wanted."

WARNINGS: Some dark content.

~

Harry woke to warm lips on his mouth; startled, he gasped and nearly choked. Immediately, hands were around him, soothing, apologising silently... there were words he would never say aloud. One of them was sorry. The others were -

"I love you."

What? He could barely believe that he's heard it. He was given no chance to respond as those lips closed over him, demanding, hot.... a contrast to the freezing fingertips that were burrowing under his shirt, scrabbling, ripping, getting to his skin in any way they could. His mouth tasted strange, a tang of something sharp he couldn't quite place; probably some obscure potion he'd been working on. Every sensation was magnified by the complete absence of light. He wondered if Severus had used some sort of charm on him, as he had once before, to act as a blindfold, but he wasn't touching him as if he was playing games. Those hands were the most earnest he had ever felt them. So as his eyes were no use, he closed them, and surrendered to the sensation and the lips and tongue which seemed to have lost all their reserve.

It was only when the touches slackened and stopped, and he conjured a light to find out why, that he recognised the taste in his mouth as blood.

WARNINGS: Some dark content.

~

You love me. Hah. Don’t try to hide it; you can’t hide anything from me anymore. That’s your fault, you know. All your fault. You open up, you spread yourself to my eyes.

And I take what I want, and I leave.

And you knew that.

Sometimes I wonder why I ever wanted to fuck such an idiot. But there’s something….. intriguing about you. About the way you give yourself up to me. Some masochistic impulse, perhaps? After all, I’ve never been anything but honest with you. You knew I was going to hurt you. You knew I was going to tear you up and glut myself on your blood and your pain and then leave you there. You knew. And still you followed.

Pathetic, really. Beaten dog trailing along at his master’s heels. You stupid little bitch. You don’t really think your devotion will make me care for you, do you?

I don’t care. I could leave you tomorrow. Maybe I will. But then again, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay and watch you rot from the inside out. Is that why you stay? Do you just want to know how long I’ll stick around?

Or how long you can take it?

Is this your punishment to yourself, perhaps? Are you atoning for some sin here? Bad move, motherfucker. Don’t you dare try to use me. There’s no forgiveness here, just sin and sin and more sin, forever and ever, amen.

But I was forgetting. You don’t want to use me. You love me.

It’s almost funny. The one person in the world…. the only one who ever loved me. And it’s you. Not my father, not my mother, not my mentors, not my friends. You. You pathetic little son of a bitch. The irony’s thick enough to choke on.

Get up and leave, why don’t you? What have you got here? I’m only going to hurt you again. And you don’t want that. You hate it when I’m cruel, however hard you bite your upper lip. However many tears you refuse to cry for me.

Moron. Don’t stay. Don’t love me. Get out and never come back, before I tear the place down around your head. But you won’t, will you? No, you’ll stick around. You’re far to keen to be a martyr. A martyr to your love. Hah.

Fine. Have it your way. Get on your knees again, bitch.