Sinope's Fiction: Seventy Times Seven

Title: Seventy Times Seven
Author: Sinope at (no spam!) gmail dot com
Rating: R
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Warning: Underage sexuality, character death.
Summary: Sex isn't always pretty; neither are emotions. Harry, Severus, and fragmentation.
Author's notes: For Switchknife.
Disclaimer: This is an unofficial fan work. No profit was made; no ownership is implied.

Severus does not flinch when Harry thrusts into him abruptly and spitefully, wet with the spit from Severus's mouth. Harry fucks him on all fours and digs his nails into Severus's sweat-slippery back, whispering oh fuck yes when he comes. The crackling of Voldemort's hexes against Hogwart's walls hums in the distance, and Severus tells himself that these nights suffice for his penance, that Harry finds the strength to survive in each gasping thrust, each melting muscle. His hope, though: it rests on the delicate moments after Harry withdraws and before he falls asleep, the quiet "Thanks, Severus" that accompanies a smile of sleepiness and youth.

Severus does not flinch when, after half a year, Harry's eyes grow blank and weary at the sight of Severus's face. He refuses to let himself beg, so instead he takes, pushing the boy's skinny limbs above his head as Severus grinds against his body insistently, skin sticky against skin. Harry's eyes are screwed shut when he comes, and he no longer groans Severus's name, but his body shudders all the harder, and the wet stain over Severus's stomach cries victory. Harry curls in on himself to fall asleep, and Severus turns the other way, back-to-back, readying himself for another night listening to nightmare-shallow breathing.

Severus does not flinch when Harry thrusts too deep into his throat with a desperate little whimper, pushing harder faster harder until he comes suddenly, sinking back with a groan into the pillows of his bed. For a year and a half the War has raged, and for seventy times seven nights Severus has felt Harry Potter dissolve into helplessness against his skin. Severus marks the tally in his mind, wipes his mouth, and kisses the boy on the forehead, keeping his age-roughened lips from lingering on the tender skin. Harry has already fallen asleep; Severus leaves the room and does not return.

Severus does not flinch when Harry screams his name as the Hogwarts defenses finally fall and Death Eaters storm the dungeons last of all. Harry ought to have died long ago, heroically defending the front line, but instead he is pounding on Severus's door, out of breath and babbling and begging that Severus please still be there, still be alive. Then Harry's voice shouts hexes over the sounds of children screaming and flesh searing, and the last thing he shouts is "Shit, there're too many, I'm sorry Severus, I can't -". A quiet thump sounds, like books tumbling to the floor, and the chaos outside Severus's room becomes oddly empty.

Severus does not flinch when, alone at his desk, he presses his pen between his fingers until the quill splits. Black ink stains his hands suddenly; in the hall outside, the Death Eaters have moved on without touching his door. Severus rises without cleaning his hands and goes out to the hallway to complete what he has begun.

finis.