TITLE: ROBES OF BLUE / ROBES OF GREY

AUTHOR: Alorin Aranal

RATING: NC-17. Warnings for AU, Dub-Con, First-Time, Angst, Humor

PAIRING: Severus Snape/Harry Potter

SUMMARY: Snape and Harry find themselves just outside the town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, the night before the battle begins.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K Rowling, and various publishers including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Delacorte Press, Bantam Doubleday, & Dell Publishing. Warner Bros, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

FEEDBACK: DesertRose206@aol.com Or AlorinAranal@aol.com

BETA: Bloodaxe

ARCHIVE: Part of the From Dawn till Dusk Severus Snape/ Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm.

CHALLENGE: History Challenge -Wave XI

CHAPTER ONE: A LESSON IMPLODED

Even as he was retching violently, emptying his poor stomach of it's meager remains, Harry was aware of the stifling heat around him. And he was outdoors too, in brilliant sunshine............odd.

His stomach convulsed again, and Harry groaned as his throat burned and released what felt like the last ounce of moisture from his tortured cells.

“Oh shit, enough please,” he begged aloud to no one in particular, his eyes tightly closed in an attempt to calm the vertigo he still experienced.

Harry spit out sour saliva, resigning himself to awaiting the next spasm, which mercifully did not come. He breathed deeply and collapsed onto the dry ground, his strength spent for the moment.

What the fuck did Snape do? Damn that arrogant bastard and his training lessons!

Harry lay, his stomach calming, and silently cursed the fates that had robbed him of Professor Dumbledore's guidance and trust, and put his lessons in the fight against Lord Voldemort on the former potions teacher's shoulders.

Not for the first time since his Headmaster's death, Harry cursed the old wizard for deserting him.

* * *

Aware things were wildly out of place, but still barely unable to open his eyes and survey the situation around him, Harry pulled himself along the ground to the shade of a sapling, it's foliage giving slight relief from the intense sunlight. His thoughts returned, as they always did, to the miserable changes in his life that seemed to have begun as he stood at the foot of Dumbledore's White Tomb.

It was impossibly hard to grasp the concept, in the weeks and months since Dumbledore's death that Harry had been made to realize Professor Snape had not succumbed to his old Death Eater's ways as everyone thought. Arriving back at the Dursleys' after sixth year, in a daze following Dumbledore's killing, Harry had been abducted one hot summer night from the spare bedroom on Privet Drive where he slept fitfully, by wizards unknown, and was brought to the Potion Master's ancestral home.

It seemed like days before Harry stopped fighting and screaming long enough for Snape to explain the inevitability and necessity of the events that had just changed his life so. Albus Dumbledore's death, an event both planned and accepted by the two old friends, had been carried out as fate deemed it would.

Harry had listened, reluctantly, to Snape's explanation of the events set into motion by Draco Malfoy's dark mission to kill his Headmaster. Harry covered his ears and screwed up his face as he heard Snape tell of another prophecy that still resided in the Ministry of Magic that foretold of the younger Malfoy's destiny to kill the Headmaster of Hogwarts, if he were not prevented.

It was a further brutal shock and surprise to Harry that Draco Malfoy now resided at the Snape residence also, although he remained self-sequestered in one of the old stone building's uncountable rooms.

“So you see Potter, Snape had said with satisfied smugness, The world does not revolve entirely around you.”

* * *

Harry gritted his teeth as he lay on the ground , remembering the words Snape used to taunt him. He experimentally tried opening his eyes to check his bearings, but the wave of vertigo had still not yet passed. Harry groaned and curled himself into a tighter body arc as his mind again returned to images and memories he sincerely wished he could forget.

 * * *

Now firmly imprisoned in Snape's manse, warded against leaving the grounds, it had been impossibly hard to obey Snape's edict that Harry and Draco should put aside their years-long differences and unite to become friends. Both students spent days simply glaring at each other while Snape played the role of moderator in an attempt to end, what he deemed, ‘their nonsense'.

It had been Draco who broke down first. Feeling the loss of all his family, unable to return to life as the privileged Malfoy heir, and fearing the wrath of Lord Voldemort for his failed attempt to kill Dumbledore, Draco had simply succumbed to his situation, and wept miserably.

Harry's brilliant green eyes widened as he witnessed Draco's breakdown, and he surprised himself by feeling sympathy for his old enemy.

And....in doing so.....Harry knew they could etch out some sort of friendship.

* * *

“GIT UP! LOOKIE HERE AT THESE EASY PICKIN'S!! NOW THE DAMN YANKS ARE COMING TO US! EASY AS PLUCKIN A DAISY! GIT UP, YOUNG SUH!!”

Harry felt a strong pull at his coated arm as he was forcefully lifted from the dry grass. His eyes shot painfully open and he blinked furiously against the bright light. Harry's lingering dizziness caused him to sway under the hard grip of the arm that held him and he struggled to make out the features of his captor.

“Your name, Yank.”

“Huh?” answered Harry, looking at his own arm clothed in dark blue fabric being held at the elbow by the stranger, trying to take in the circumstances of his situation.

“Are you addled, Captain?” the man said with derision, “I asked you your name, Suh.”

Harry shook his head, hoping the action would clear the fog inside his brain. He found himself looking at not one, but two men, apparently soldiers by their similar uniforms, standing before him.

“ Captain?? ” said one to his companion, “ Captain ?? Lieutenant Taylor, he wears the uniform of a Yank captain, but this is a boy barely whelped by my eyes. Likely some Private who stole himself some cover to ride away with. Where's your horse, boy?”

Harry looked blankly at the men, trying to absorb the questions they were firing his way. He studied their grey uniforms and his own blue one in puzzlement.

“I....I... don't have any hor.......I don't know......”

“Listen to him, Curtis,” said the taller of the two men. “English, and fancy spoken at that. I thought the English were on our side.”

Both soldiers guffawed, apparently seeing the slightly-built Harry as weaponless and no threat to themselves.

“What's your name, son?” Lieutenant Taylor asked again in a surprisingly milder tone.

“I'm Harry...Harry Potter. And yes, I am from England,” he answered, seeing no harm in identifying his true name to the two men. “What I don't know is where I am now.”

The pair of soldiers laughed again. “What I would venture to say, young Suh, is that you are in deep shit.”

“Look,” ventured Harry, “I don't know what's happening. I'll just leave you alone. If I've interfered with your war-games or movie-making, or whatever, I'm sorry, and I'll just go.”

The soldiers laughed yet again, causing Harry's confusion to turn to anger for the first time. He instinctively searched the area for his wand, but caught no sight of it. The last he remembered, before all went black, was that he was wandless then too.

Fucking Snape again!, Harry thought, He wouldn't allow me use of my wand until I could be trusted with it. Damn him!

“Listen, if you two are part of Snape's posse of guardians, you can tell him for me I've had enough! ” Harry said angrily , “You can tell him I refuse to play his little games anymore!”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the hot itchy fabric of his own dark uniform chafe against his skin. He remembered how foolish he felt when Snape had ordered him to don the American Civil War uniform of the Northern Army for their lesson in military tactics.

“Snape? You know Colonel Snape, boy? You play awfully familiar with the name of an enemy soldier. A high-ranking one at that. Come to think of it, you both sound alike. He a relative, soldier?”

Harry shuddered involuntarily. Don't even go there , his mind thought.

“Look,” said Harry, still feeling woozy in the bearing-down heat of the day, “Can you just take me to where he is?”

Lieutenant Taylor slapped his cavalry hat against his leg as he mounted his horse, setting up a small cloud of dust.

“Oh young Captain , Suh, you might be regretting those words powerfully soon.” He reached his long arm down to assist Harry to ride behind him on the large, chestnut horse, and the young wizard reluctantly settled in behind the soldier for the ride to points unknown.

* * *

Harry's mind should have been concentrating on where he was, for it was apparent he was no longer on Snape's expansive property. The landscape had changed dramatically, from rolling soft hills of green clover, lavender, rocky outcroppings and cool breezes to beaten down fields of tall dried grasses, rutted roads and merciless heat.

Instead, in the monotony of the slow ride on the horse's burdened back, Harry thought of the soldier's words, and he winced at the memory.

He a relative, soldier?

Harry shut his eyes again, as if the action could erase the past three months of his life, but he knew the gesture was futile.

Snape was a relative, of sorts.

He was husband to Harry, by wizarding law.

Harry emitted a sound of disgust he didn't know he uttered until Lieutenant Taylor addressed him.

“Not going to get sick again, are you son? If you are, I'd be obliged Suh, if you aim it away from me, and my fine horse, if you please.”

“I'm fine,” Harry grunted, before his thoughts returned him to what he didn't want to think about.

* * *

With the impossibility of leaving Snape's home, Harry had undergone a series of difficult adjustments with regard to his living conditions. He has spent weeks railing and plotting his escape to no avail, his anger and frustration supreme.

Coming to accept that Dumbledore had, in effect, ordered Snape to kill him, Harry had eventually softened in his hatred of his former potions teacher, and had begun to accept him as his new mentor.

Harry learned, through what essentially was Dumbledore's wizarding will, that he had left three binding bequeaths on the exiled Gryffindor.

“You understand Harry,” Rufus Scrimgeour had warned him, bearing Dumbledore's will to Snape's mansion on an official visit. “That if you accept the bequeaths of Albus Dumbledore, you do so on faith, without first hearing his requests.”

“Of course,” Harry had answered quickly, Dumbledore's recent death still a bruise on his heart. “I'd do whatever he asked of me.”

“Then you accept his tenants as they were written? You and Severus? For the will applies to both of you.”

Harry had looked cautiously at Severus Snape, and the former teacher returned the look.

“Well, I do.” Harry challenged, arching his brow at Snape.

“Agreed,” said Snape finally, a determination to show Harry his complete loyalty to Dumbledore overriding his usual reserve.

“Fine.” Scrimgeour proclaimed. “The will states the first tenant of faith is that Severus Snape become mentor to Harry Potter. Severus is charged with teaching Harry all he will to effect the outcome of defeating the Dark Lord. Harry is charged with learning and trusting Severus to bring him to this point.”

“Not too hard,” said Harry with a hint of sarcasm, “I've been his captive audience for weeks now anyway.”

Scrimgeour ignored the look on both wizards' faces and continued. “The third tenant is for Severus to help Harry locate the pieces of......what's this?..... you-know-what ?? Whatever does that mean?”

“Never mind,” Harry said dismissively to Scrimgeour, “I know what he was referring to. I believe Headmaster Dumbledore would have wanted me to tell Professor Snape in private what this third wish is. Is that acceptable?”

“Well, yes....quite, Harry. It seems you know what Dumbledore was alluding to.”

“Yes,” said Harry. “Why did you skip the second request?”

Scrimgeour looked uncomfortable. “There is a note here from Dumbledore suggesting, gauging the circumstances, that I might want to read this tenant last. I have decided to do so.”

Harry shrugged. Snape crossed his arms over his chest to await the words of a reluctant Scrimgeour.

“Yes?....Minister?” Snape urged impatiently.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat and adjusted his suddenly too-tight collar.

“It seems Dumbledore wants you two to marry.”

The room became so absolutely silent, Harry would later swear, much later, that he could hear the movement of errant dust motes travel the floor. The silence was broken only by the incongruous laugh that emitted itself from Harry. He became immediately distressed when he realized both Snape and Scrimgeour did not share his misplaced mirth.

“You're joking, right?” he asked of no one in particular.

Snape sighed. Scrimgeour brought himself up taller, squared his shoulders and shook his head in a most definitive way.

“Well, I won't do it,” Harry said firmly, “I'm not, well... you know....that way. No way.....fuck this....I'm done.”

“You no longer have the option to refuse, Harry,” said Scrimgeour, “Your agreement of earlier is quite binding.”

Harry eyes widened, his panic and anger rising rapidly. “I WON'T DO IT!! I CAN'T!!”

Harry aimed his appeal at Snape , trying to ignore Scrimgeour's stony visage boring into him.

“Professor Snape, tell him!! Tell him we just won't do this! It's ridiculous that Dumbledore would have wanted this!”

Snape shot a look to the Minister of Magic that made Harry freeze instantly. The young wizard felt his innards turn immediately to some vague gelatinous substance. He studied his Potions Masters face and backed away in horror.

“You knew about this didn't you? Of course! You and Dumbledore would have discussed this already! I can't think that you and.......”

Harry blanched, he felt himself tremble as he backed further away from Snape. The older wizard had still not spoken.

“You want this......don't you?” Harry asked coldly.

And, as Harry said the words, he turned away from his former Professor, unable to meet his eyes and read his expression. Harry stood facing the opposite wall of Snape's study, his hands grasping his unruly hair, his face screwed up tight. His mind screaming at him for this to be only a nightmare.

“I do not object.”

The silken voice of Severus Snape ran as a sharp icicle down Harry's spine. It froze him as efficiently as a blast of arctic air.

The calmer Snape remained, the more furious Harry got. He turned again to look at his former teacher, trying to read his expressionless face.

“Are you a fag, Snape, as most of the student body already suspects?” Harry sneered, “Is that what this is all about? Some grand scheme to shag the under-aged ‘Boy-Who-Lived'? Is that what you're into?”

“You are seventeen, Harry. In the wizarding world, you are a full adult.” Snape answered evenly.

Harry groaned in frustration. He crossed his arms over his chest in defiance.

“And if I flat out refuse?”

Snape ran his hand down the front of his robes, smoothing the fabric. “I suspect, Harry, you will be stripped of your wizarding powers at best, or serve a life-sentence in Azkaban at worse.”

“YOU BLOODY BASTARD!!” railed Harry , “I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE DOING THIS TO ME!!”

“May I remind you Harry, this was the wish of Dumbledore? I only oblige his bidding.”

“SCREW HIM TOO!” yelled Harry, as he pushed past Snape and made for the room's exit.

He couldn't leave Snape's property, but he could put himself in it's farthest corner and brood in miserable peace.

* * *

The cavalry horse stumbled slightly over the loose rocks below it's hooves, causing Harry to grunt in surprise and grip Lieutenant Taylor tighter about the waist.

“You don't sit a horse often, do you Suh?”

You got that right asshole , thought Harry, A horse, no.....but a hippogriff.......

“How old are you, young Potter?”

“Old enough,” said Harry with disgust, “A full fucking adult, don't you know?”

“No gentleman, are you lad? A decent Southern upbringing would have taken the starch out of you.”

“Did I forget to tell you, Lieutenant? I left my manners back in my cupboard.”

“Best not talk then, soldier,” answered Taylor gruffly, “Save your smart mouth for Colonel Snape.”

Harry exhaled loudly, his teeth gritted, and his mind returned to the awful prelude before he was joined as mate to Severus Snape.

* * *

Harry had absolutely forbidden Ron or Hermione attend the event he viewed as his own worst crushing defeat. The inevitability of fulfilling Dumbledore's wishes was always in the back of Harry's mind, but he denied the thought for weeks until his hand was forced.

Duty .

Damn Dumbledore! He knew Harry better than the young wizard knew himself, and Harry realized with certain dread, he was bound to his vow.

Our union will join our individual powers, Harry, and together we will defeat Lord Voldemort. Headmaster Dumbledore knew this.

Snape's words rang in Harry's head for weeks, hurting him worse than his prickling scar ever had.

In private moments, he bawled like a baby over his fate, and hated himself all the more for his weakness. Harry withdrew from the friendship of his best friends, associating himself solely with Hagrid, by Snape's consent. It brought Harry some small comfort that Hagrid was allowed to visit him at Snape's ancestral home, bringing with him a bit of familiarity in a world otherwise turned bizarrely upside down.

To his added disgust, Hagrid, albeit with great reluctance, could offer Harry no fate than to otherwise honor Dumbledore's wishes, and before he knew it, it was his and Snape's wedding eve.

Hagrid, attending the ceremony as Harry's best man, shared more than a few butterbeers with the young wizard on the stone-floored veranda of Snape's stately home, that miserable night before . Harry had flatly refused to see his former potions teacher for days, leaving last-minute preparations in the care of Hagrid and an assortment of excited house-elves.

“I know what yer thinking Harry, yer thinking Dumbledore betrayed ye something fierce.”

Harry snorted lightly, shaking his head. “And he didn't, Hagrid?”

“Well, it's true, I mean it looks that way,” Hagrid pondered, stretching his neck from side to side, his discomfort visible on his craggy features. “I'm sure he had his reasons.”

“Well,” answered Harry, laughing in lieu of screaming, which was what he really wanted to do, “He did have one great effect on me, Hagrid.”

“Oh....eh... what's that, Harry?”

“I stopped mourning him that instant he made his requests known,” Harry answered coldly. “If that's what he wanted, he got his wish.”

“Aw, Harry.”

“It so utterly ridiculous, Hagrid, what I'm going to be doing tomorrow. Standing next to that git, Snape, and saying words to him I should have been saying to Ginny Weasley. But that's in a world that no longer exists.”

Hagrid looked at the ground uncomfortably.

“Word is your powers will increase greatly, Harry. Not only from Snape's teaching, but from the......uh.......bonding......er......hrmph.”

Harry looked at Hagrid, his mouth sliding into a smile that was anything but a sign of inner happiness.

“The bonding , is it ? That's a great term Hagrid,” he spat out. “Such an acceptable term for what this is all about. Giving that pervert bastard the legal right to fuck the almighty Harry Potter.”

Hagrid's large tankard of butterbeer crashed to the stone flags beneath his feet, his large face showing deep red despite it's covering of dense black beard.

Harry did not startle at the mug's loud crash, not having the energy left in the past few weeks to react with any emotion except resignation.

“I'm sorry, Hargid. You didn't cause this. It's just that.......”

Tears forced their way to Harry's eyes, despite his effort to control them. He gritted his teeth and dug his fingernails into his palms in a futile effort to banish them.

His words came out in a shaky distraught voice.

“It's just that I thought........I could have the semblance of the smallest bit of a normal life! I had even begun to hope that I actually could defeat Voldemort, and then maybe, just maybe , I could be the most ordinary of wizards, and Ginny and I could.........”

Harry could not finish, his body heaving now with wracking sobs.

“It's all gone now, Hagrid. Tomorrow, with Snape, it's like.....forever...... oh shit .”

“This will probably keep you safer, Harry.” Hagrid offered in what small comfort he could. The large half-giant was at a complete loss of how else to soothe Harry's feelings. He was more lost without Dumbledore's guidance than Harry was.

“Time to come in now, Harry Potter,” a small squeaky voice said, and Harry turned to see two house-elves ready to escort him to his rooms. It was time to prepare for the following day's activities.

* * *

“Time to get down now, Bluebelly.”

“Huh?” Harry was roused from his reverie.

Harry looked confusedly at the tiny man with the large ears and the very prominent thin nose that addressed him. His first thought, as Lieutenant Taylor handed him off the horse to the strange man, was that he was back on Snape's property, and this was but one further annoying house elf, but the reality of the grey-clad soldiers all around him told him otherwise.

“I'm Colonel Snape's aide,” the little man stated with authority. “He's requested any new prisoners be brought to him straight away. So let's get going, uh, Captain.....look alive.”

“I would inform the Colonel that this one has no manners, Pettigrew, and the mouth of a seasoned sailor,” Lieutenant Taylor said to the little civilian-clad man, “It would behoove our Commander to teach this one some of the graces of a proper Southern gentleman.”

Pettigrew??

Harry wondered if he heard that correctly.

“I'll relay your wishes to Colonel Snape,” the small man grunted. “Now, if you all don't mind, I'll be escorting the prisoner to the Colonel.”

Prisoner??

And a bossy little creature that definitely resembled a house-elf.

And Peter Pettigrew, in particular, for that matter.

Harry's head swam with confusion.

CHAPTER TWO: THERE THEY ARE: THE DUTIFUL

“Move quickly Harry, Professor,....oh....uh.....Colonel Snape has been waiting days for you.”

“Hey,” Harry asked with impatience, “Who the hell are you, and how do you know me? What the fuck is going on??”

“Shhhhh!! For Merlin's sake, keep your voice down! We are going to put some distance between us and all these Muggle ears before we say another word, so kindly... SHUT UP!”

“Whatever,” answered Harry, offended. “You're a bloody Pettigrew all right,” he whispered, walking quickly behind the hurrying little man, “That's plain.”

The distinctly rodent-appearing man snorted. “Yeah, I'm Peter Pettigrew's nephew and he betrayed your parents, not me. So get over it. Hurry up, Snape's quarters is that farmhouse just ahead.”

“What's your name?” Harry asked curiously.

“It you must know, it's Willard, Willard Pettigrew, but don't you dare ever call me that. Call me Foki.”

“Foki?” Harry repeated with amusement.

“It's what I called my parent's coffee when I was a toddler. It stuck. And if you must know more, I'm from California. And I prefer it there, and in our own time.”

“Our own time?? What do you mean by that?”

“Snape will explain it. Hurry up, will you? Your husband is waiting.”

* * *

The day of his wedding dawned with the promise of perfect weather. Harry would have much preferred a cloak of dark and full rain clouds to match his mood.

He ignored a sumptuous tray of breakfast fare, feeling that if he consumed anything more than a cup of strongly-brewed tea, his stomach would betray him in public.

Harry sat up in bed, his hair tousled, his mind fuzzy, as a pair of house-elves urged him to his bath.

At the very least , he thought, The ceremony will be as absolutely private as possible . Only yesterday he had ignored the rants of Rufus Scrimgeour, and the subtle pleas of Snape to have the marriage be witnessed by a ‘who's-who' in the wizarding world.

“But Harry,” Scrimgeour had begged, “This is a most important joining. This is an occasion for a great celebration.”

Harry looked at Snape, his green eyes icily cold. “Do you want this also?”

“I believe it is fitting. I think it is what Professor Dumbledore would have enjoyed attending.”

Harry smiled. “Then by all means, gentlemen, I refuse such a public lynching of myself. Tell everyone they'll have to find another spectacle to ‘get-off' on.”

“Mr. Potter, really!” An embarrassed Scrimgeour produced a paisley-printed handkerchief from his robes and wiped his sweating brow.

Snape leaned in close to Harry, a look of severe annoyance on his features. “There must be a certain number of witnesses. Your friends, Weasley and Granger requested to attend, and I have granted them that wish. ”

“Fine!” spat Harry, “And while you're at it, sit Draco Malfoy between them, to their added amusement!”

“Splendid idea, my clever one!” Snape answered in a tone clearly indicating he was at his limit with Harry's juvenile behavior, “I shall do as you wish.”

Harry watched as Snape bowed and took his leave. His mood had just decidedly worsened.

And now, on his wedding day, Harry felt the keenest sense of loss. Loss over what little control of his own life he had preciously possessed.

Harry exhaled, lowering himself into the large marble soaking tub that adjoined his bedroom.

My own space, for the last night, for the last time. For good.

He let himself slide beneath the water's surface, and stayed there for an alarmingly long time before an elf frantically pulled him back above the water line by his soaking hair. The elf was squealing with annoyance at the improvised rescue, while Harry grinned wickedly at it's sodden little body.

“Harry Potter is being very difficult,” it sniffed.

“Oh, so sorry,” the young wizard answered insincerely, “I must have fallen back asleep.”

“Ignore him Tippy,” said the other, older house-elf. “The young Master would not have drowned regardless. Clever boy he is tho, but does he know he is warded against self-harm?”

“What? What did you say?” asked Harry, sitting up straighter in the soapy water.

The house-elf grinned in satisfaction of having rattle his upstart charge.

“Master Snape is clever himself. He knows the young Master does not want to be married and bonded to him. He merely removed one path of escape. Remember Harry Potter, the elves who bathe you now also attend Lord Snape. You might wish for self-harm when you see how gifted he is.”

“Gifted?” Harry asked with annoyance.

The two elves cackled with glee, their squeaky voices hurting Harry's ears.

Harry reddened when he realized what they were referring to. He fumed in silence, finishing the rinsing of his hair. The younger elf reached in the bath water to wash Harry, but his thin small arm was deftly caught by the young wizard.

“Touch me anywhere, you little fuck,” warned Harry, “And I'll hand you your scrawny paw on a platter.”

The elf gasped and jumped back from the marble basin, his lower lip quivering in fear.

“He is bold today, for the moment, Tippy,” stated the older elf called Fetcher, “But soon he bows to his husband. Then we shall see him humbled.”

The younger elf looked appeased, and gave Harry a haughty look.

Harry sincerely felt like sliding below the water line again.

* * *

“There it is Harry,” said Foki, pointing out a whitewashed farmhouse that set isolated in a meadow, surrounded by worn rail fencing. “We can talk now, we seem to be alone.”

“Ok, then,” said Harry impatiently, “Just where the hell are we?”

Foki laughed, without mirth. “Actually, Harry, to mis-quote a line from an American movie, you should be asking, just when the hell are we?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Snape will explain. Come, let's get inside. It's bound to be one whole degree cooler in there.”

Foki reached up and unlatched the glass-paned door to the old farmhouse. Harry stepped in behind the little man to a sitting room, wood-floored and sparsely furnished with a large desk and a damask settee. True to what Foki had predicted, the large-windowed room afforded little relief from the heat outside.

Harry turned at the sound of boot heels behind him. He beheld the face of his husband of a few brief weeks.

“I've been waiting Harry. I'm glad to see you've arrived intact.”

Harry looked at Snape. He was still clad the uniform of a southern officer that he had conjured for himself, as Harry remained clad in the uniform of a northern officer similarity created.

“What's going on Snape?” asked Harry, removing the hat from his own head, “Is this some elaborate exercise in military tactics you've created to teach me yet another lesson?”

“Hardly, and I believe you agree, Harry. We are quite distantly removed from where we were a few days ago.”

“A few days ago? We were just doing this idiot re-creation this morning,” said a confused Harry.

“It appears not, my dear spouse. I have been ensconced here, as commander of this brigade for four days now. I have been awaiting your arrival most anxiously.”

Harry winced involuntarily at Snape's use of the word spouse. It always brought him back to the moments just before he was joined to the man standing before him.

* * *

“A word, Harry, before our joining.”

Harry steeled his face not to react to Snape's words. He looked at his soon-to-be husband, clad identically to him, in dark grey embroidered robes.

“What else do you want from me?” he said flatly.

“Please Harry, this life won't be as terrible as you think it will be. I want you to be happy. You sound anything but.”

“You want me to be happy? There's a few ways to guarantee that. You die......I die....or you call this off.”

“Please Harry, don't do this.” Snape attempted to take Harry's hand but the young wizard pulled his arms tight to his body.

“Are you enjoying seeing Weasley and Granger again? Did you have a nice chat last night?”

“Well, actually no, Snape,” answered Harry. “Neither one of them could give me pointers on how to have sex with a man, so I'm afraid the reunion was rather wasted.”

“I see.” Snape sniffed. “I trust you made them feel welcome regardless. They are your best friends, after all.”

“Don't you worry Snape,” Harry answered, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice, “I'm the good little ‘Boy-Who-Lived', I always do everything that is asked of me.”

Snape shifted uncomfortably. He was clearly not making headway with his betrothed.

“Could you please call me Severus?”

Harry laughed. “Not likely.”

“Harry, would you like to take my name in our marriage?”

“WHAT??” Harry's head shot up straighter, his eyes widened . “Are you bloody kidding me? ”

“Well then,” Snape asked, undaunted, “Would you like me to take yours?”

An image formed in Harry's head. It was his father, James. The notion came to Harry that the old myth must be true. People really do spin in their graves.

Finally he spoke. “I'd rather you'd develop a fatal disease, if you must ask.”

Snape sighed. “I see this is getting us nowhere. Very well, we will keep our own surnames. I had hoped the small gesture on either of our parts might have been the first step in solidifying our new life together.”

“Guess not.”

“I hope you like the rings I have chosen for us, Harry.”

“Can't fucking wait to see ‘em, Snape.”

“I'll see you outside then. At the summer house.”

“You betcha.” Harry waved his hand and walked away, wanting to spend his last minutes as a free man anywhere but with Severus Snape.

* * *

“And just where is here, Snape?” Harry asked, digging at the collar of his uncomfortable uniform.

“ Here , Harry, is just outside a small town in Pennsylvania in the United States. The when is, apparently, late June, 1863.”

“What? What are you saying? That we're in the Gettysburg area at the time of the American Civil War battle?”

Snape nodded. “Just before, from my observation.”

“This isn't one of your tricks........or Voldemort's?” Harry asked.

Snape looked thoughtful. “Interesting Harry. Lord Voldemort is not yet born. You need not fear him, at this juncture.”

“I'm not afraid of Voldemort!” Harry chafed. “Ok, I'm asking. Why are we here? What happened?”

“ You happened, Harry.” Snape stated. “I suspect we are here as a result of your growing powers.....and your high emotions.”

“THIS IS MY FAULT?? HOW IS THIS MY FAULT???”

A small voice cleared its throat.

“Would you two like a lemonade? We are alone, I can magic some ice in them.”

“Yes, please, Willard,” answered Snape, “We could all do with a cold drink.”

“Hey!! That's another thing!” broke in Harry, “Why is this Pettigrew here, with us, in 1863? What the hell is that all about?”

“Curses a lot, doesn't he?” Foki Pettigrew noted to Snape.

“Yes.....well, he is young.” answered Snape.

“HEY! DON'T FUCKING TALK ABOUT ME LIKE I'M NOT HERE!” yelled Harry.

Foki put his hands out to Harry in a calming gesture.

“I'm here, Harry, because you summoned me.”

“Summoned you? I don't even bloody know you!”

“By acquaintance? No. By name? Well, we all know the answer to that one. The fact is Harry, I'm a special type of wizard called a Paragon. Bodyguards, if you will. I'm yours, destined from my birth, and yours to aid you when you needed it most.”

“You're telling me I called you?” Harry asked, shaking his head. “ Now? ” Tell me then, why didn't I call you earlier? Like say, beginning when I spent years growing up in a cupboard?”

Foki shrugged. “Apparently you didn't need me until now. You are much more resourceful than you believe.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, not convinced. “Oh yeah? Tell me then, why didn't you appear when I was more or less forced to marry.....him?”

Harry gestured at Snape, who stood by and let Harry vent.

“Did you ever figure that maybe this marriage is the best thing for you, Harry?” Foki ventured.

“OH, THAT'S IT THEN!!” Harry raised his voice again, “You two have cut a deal together to make me accept all this!”

“I've never met this wizard before,” Snape offered calmly, “I hardly would have the opportunity to make the acquaintance of a ‘New Worlder.'”

“What? What does that mean?” Harry asked.

“An American,” sighed Snape. “As in, where we are now.....and unfortunately.....when.”

“Oh, save it Snape.” Harry said crossly. “Just tell me how all this is my fault......as usual.”

Snape moved closer to Harry, sitting on the edge of his desk, adjusting the sword that hung from his belted waist.

“You and I have both grown considerably more powerful since our marriage, as Dumbledore predicted. You more so than I, Harry, since you are the chosen to defeat Lord Voldemort. We have been strengthening each other with our bonding....our couplings.”

“HEY! SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!”

Harry flushed deep crimson, catching the eye of the petite Foki Pettigrew before turning away. His anger, however, was too much to contain, and he vented his feelings regardless of who heard.

“No wonder I'm more powerful, Snape, since you take what you want so frequently ,” he hissed.

Harry thoughts retreated again to the moment he was alone with his new husband, in Snape's quarters, in the stately home.

* * *

“I was so proud of you today, Harry. Stating your vows with dignity and restraining yourself from publically showing your displeasure with this arrangement.”

“You mean, Snape, when I didn't haul ass and run?” Harry answered.

The pair of newlywed wizards stood alone in Snape's master bedroom in his expansive house. Harry had never been in the room before, and under other circumstances, would have found it tastefully decorated and inviting. Instead, he fingered the beautifully-wrought band that encircled his left ring finger as of one hour ago. It gleamed with the luster of expensive gold, but in its representation, it felt like a collar of solid, dull and imprisoning iron.

“Have I chosen well, Harry?” Snape inquired, touching his own matching band, “From the finest vein of gold, and fashioned with Celtic runes.”

“What do they say, Snape? Harry James Potter has been bought and sold?”

“Harry, please......”

“All right.” Harry said dismissively, “I'll behave. I've got nothing left right now, and I'm just too bloody beat down to fight.”

Snape held Harry by his upper arms, startling the young wizard with his sudden gesture. “Harry, I promise you I will make this life good for you. You might not be able to see this now, but you will.”

Harry tried to pull away, a knot rising in his throat. He stopped struggling almost immediately, sensing the futility of his actions.

“Where do you want me, Snape? On that impressive four-poster? Can I undress myself, or are you going to insist on doing that yourself?”

“I want you to relax Harry. I'm not going to rape you.”

“So you say........” Harry's voice trailed off.

Snape reached for a slender glass vial of cut faceted crystal, much like a teardrop shaped jewel. Inside, a shimmering pink-purple viscous liquid swirled.

“I've prepared this for you, Harry. I want you to take it. It will relax you, and dull any....well.... pain you might experience.”

Harry crossed his arms defensively, his eyes narrowing, his lips thinning. “How thoughtful of you.”

“If you feel hesitant......” Snape began.

Harry reached for the vial, uncapped it's glass stopper and drained it in one swallow.

“You don't have to sell me, dear husband . I'll take all the oblivion I can.”

“Don't be like this,” Snape pleaded gently.

“I don't know how else to be, frankly. Even if you were female, this would be all new to me.”

Snape's eyebrows raised. “Then you haven't......at all?”

“Nope.” Harry said, his self-disgust evident in his voice. “Does that enhance the experience for you?”

“I feel privileged, Harry.” Snape answered. “And also obligated.......obligated to ensure this is pleasurable for you as well.”

Harry snorted. “Why bother caring for my feelings at this point? Come on, let's get this......uh... argh...oh....”

Snape smiled. “Don't be alarmed, Harry. The potion is starting to take effect. You should be feeling more and more relaxed as the hours pass.”

Hours. God.

Harry felt something, true. He felt his body tingling warmly, like he was humming from within. He also felt a concentration of feelings emanating from his awakening cock.

Harry shot a look to his new husband. “Added a little something, didn't you?”

“Just a side effect to help you Harry. To enhance your pleasure. Don't fight it, please.”

Harry groaned softly. He crossed his arms over the front of his robes, the light touch of his hands soothing him.

Oh hell.

“I restrained from kissing you Harry, during the ceremony. I want to now . I want to kiss you, and put my arms around my beautiful new husband.”

Harry watched as his new husband closed the distance between them. He placed himself in a defensive stance, but Snape ignored Harry's actions, and embraced the young wizard.

Harry hissed inwardly as he was drawn as close to Snape as he ever was. He was grateful for the small favor of not having to look in the older wizard's onyx eyes.

“Ahhhhhh,” breathed Snape, his nose in Harry's hair, breathing in the fragrance of the boy's clean scent, “I am in awe of you.”

Harry said nothing. The entire situation was simply overwhelming to his senses.

“Let me look at you.”

Snape held Harry back at arm's length, his eyes moist with admiration at what met his gaze.

“I've never beheld anyone with eyes like yours, Harry. Like green fire from an undiscovered subterranean pool. Like your mother's....yet more intense.”

Harry found himself frowning. He did not like the notion of his mother's image coming to his mind minutes before he was going to be......”

“Harry! Don't pull away, I beg you.”

The young wizard ceased his movement, holding his ground by looking at the floor between the two men.

“Look at me.”

Harry raised his eyes reluctantly, only to see Snape's hand come to rest on his chin. He bit his lower lip and allowed Snape to study him.

“You are breathtakingly beautiful.”

Harry braced himself and closed his eyes as his new spouse held him tenderly. He felt Snape's lips, surprisingly gentle and supple, touch his own and he stiffened in response.

Yet his body tingled under the strange new contact, and he silently cursed the betraying potion.

“Not so terrible, yes?” Snape's voice held the timbre of his own thrill. Harry could hear him breathing shallowly with excitement.

“I have to know Snape, how long you've wanted this. Maybe I do, and maybe I really don't want to know how long you planned for the moment....you could do this to me.”

Harry's question held as subtle an accusatory tone as he dared under the circumstances.

Snape laughed softly. “Oh, my dear Harry, so perceptive! When I entered my classroom that first day, that first year, and saw you sitting there, the image of your father James, my entire being ceased to be as it was. I was as a naughty Muggle Catholic schoolboy, now harboring the world's most delicious secret.”

Harry interrupted. “I was eleven! That's so disgusting!”

Snape clucked his tongue. “Your youth betrays you Harry. All love to you is nothing but sex. Yes, I was immediately, and completely in love with you that very day, but I would not as such have spread you across my desk then, and taken your innocence. I could happily wait for that, and I did, patiently. And now, my reward has come, and he stands before me.......mine.”

Bloody fucking joy , thought Harry.

“Let me see my lovely husband,” Snape rasped, as he opened Harry's robes to the younger wizard's shock.

“You are clothed underneath!” stated a surprised Snape, “Traditionally, wedding robes are worn over the innocence of nakedness, especially if one partner is.......”

“A bloody sacrificial virgin??” finished Harry. “You lucky bastard, Snape, you got the prize.”

“I want us to be equals, Harry. I don't want to be your lord and master.”

“Could've fooled me, dear husband . Equals?? I don't believe so, or else I wouldn't be standing here wondering what hit me. Also, I have no experience fucking. I assume you do. You look like a right rare fucker to me.”

“Harry, let's not argue. I don't want any of this in anger.”

Snape reached for a second vial of potion. “You are strong-willed. I admire your resilience. Do take this also.”

Harry gave Snape a look, accepting and draining the second dose of offered potion.

The effects were immediate. Harry felt his resistance fading.

“That's not the same stuff, is it?” he accused.

“It will only enhance your pleasure further. Remove your clothing now, Harry, and join me in our bed.”

Harry exhaled loudly, hesitated a few seconds before angrily peeling his Muggle clothes from his heated body. He nearly jumped into the ornate, four-posted bed, and pulled the blessedly concealing bed linens tight to his chin.

Beside the bed, the room now lit only by a select few floating candles, Snape let his ceremonial robes slip off his shoulders to fall silently to the floor. He got in beside Harry and leaned to the young wizard to steal a kiss.

“You are glory by candleglow. I will treasure you, Harry.”

Snape gently lowered the silk coverings, and exposed his new husband to the navel. The young wizard's breathing was short and shallow, and his chest rose and fell with an anxious air.

Snape ran his long manicured finger down Harry's smooth chest from just under his chin to below his breastbone. He laughed lightly at Harry's ill-disguised ticklish reaction. Harry's nipples rose to taut hardness, purely against his will, but he was helpless not to react.

“Snape......please,” he begged to little avail. The older wizard was absorbed in tracing lines on the flushed skin.

The capable hand trailed lower, disappearing under the cream silk coverings.

“Don't.”

Harry, his eyes closed, heard himself say the words in shockingly weak protest.

It's the bloody potion. I can't want this!

“Don't hurt me.”

“Harry, I could never.” rasped Snape.

Harry hissed as Snape reached the very heart of him, an instrument of betrayal in its unwanted reaction. His mind went to the two times previously a hand other than his own had grasped him so.

The Hufflepuff boy. The seventh-year rival House student when he was fifth-year. The one who grabbed him in the isolated hallway near the Astronomy Tower. He had groped Harry first outside his jeans, then, with Harry's shocked silence, not deterring, he had reached within.

Harry hadn't protested, but broke off the encounter quickly, his senses regained.

It had felt weird, but not entirely unpleasant.

And Ginny.

Harry remembered their relationship and growing familiarity with each other. She touched him too. They had managed to laugh over their early attempts, getting past the embarrassment of Harry's premature ejaculations. In later attempts, he had enjoyed the build-up and tension before she stroked him to a shattering climax.

Later, her sweet mouth, in it's talented innocence, would bring Harry welcome relief.

And Harry prided himself on pleasing her, as she taught him the pleasure his own tongue could bring.

But they hadn't progressed to intercourse, feeling not ready for that step yet.

And now, Harry regretted that restraint sorely.

For now, bewilderingly and incredulously, he was about to lose his virginity by being the one penetrated.

It took Harry a moment to realize Snape had further lowered the bed linens, and that he now lay fully exposed to Snape's gaze and touch. Harry opened his mouth to protest what he knew was coming, but Snape gently laid a hand over his lips while simultaneously taking Harry's erect cock between his own.

Oh Ginny! This should have been us!

Harry kept his eyes tight shut, vainly hoping that not observing what Snape was doing would somehow make it better. He knew, of course, the effort was futile, for the stimulation he received could not be denied. Snape was, appallingly, superiorly skilled in what he was doing than Ginny was , and Harry knew his orgasm was building. He clawed at the covers by his sides , suppressing the need to bite at Snape's hand.

But Snape's hand lifted, for he would not deny his own ears the pleasure of hearing Harry climax under his touch.

And, through no control of the young wizard's........he did.

Harry gasped and flowed into his former professor's mouth, who devoured every drop. It was minutes before his pounding heart calmed, at which time he sincerely wished to extricate himself from the grasp of the older man.

“You've had me! Now get off!” Harry pushed at Snape's strong arms, who returned a look of surprise.

“We are not finished, Harry.”

Harry knew what he meant and struggled to pull the covers back over him. Snape left the bed to retrieve another glass vial from a nearly night table.

“Fuck that,” said Harry defiantly, “I'm done swallowing any more shit you've mixed up.”

Snape turned back to Harry, a small wry smile on his face.

“This is not for you to drink.”

Harry stared at the jar's content. It was indeed not a liquid, but a similarly hued pearly cream. He blushed deeply and sunk lower into the bedding.

“It's necessary to do this Harry. Binding by wizarding law to seal our marriage vows. I promise you, I will be gentle.”

“This is a real chore for you, isn't it Snape?” Harry answered sarcastically.

“I love you Harry, I can say that. I won't deny that I want this. I hope in time, you will want this too.”

Harry sighed heavily and turned away from Snape, knowing his efforts for solitude were useless. He grimaced when the older wizard returned to bed.

Snape eased himself behind Harry, his chin against the boy's neck, his voice at it's softest.

“This will dull your pain, my brave Gryffindor lion. The more you relax, the easier it will be.”

Harry gasped as he felt Snape touch the curve of his buttocks. He was massaged with the jar's warm contents, but not lulled by the pleasant feeling, since he knew what Snape sought.

Reality came for Harry when he felt Snape's oiled fingers touch his entrance. He stiffened and tried to retreat, but was held fast by his husband's grip.

“Shhhhh,” whispered Snape, “Just go with it......this has to happen.”

Tears ran from Harry's eyes, not from pain, but from pure and unabated humiliation. He stopped fighting as Snape's finger slipped inside him.

“Much better, Harry.” breathed Snape, “See? No pain. Just stay relaxed.”

Snape slipped a second finger into his new husband, as Harry tensed a bit at the new intrusion. The older wizard added more of the emollient, and a third finger slipped in easily.

“More magic in that creme Snape?” Harry said through gritted teeth, held tight not in pain, but in embarrassment. He felt his cock hardening again.

“Only to help you, Harry, as before. I'm considerably larger than many and want to prepare you.”

“Yeah, you're porn star material Snape.”

Snape hesitated. “Pardon?”

Harry snorted. “Never mind.”

Snape's fingers withdrew, and Harry felt strangely abandoned. Without time to think further, Harry's green eyes widened as he felt the blunt tip of Snape's cock touch against him.

“Please.....” he begged, knowing what was coming next was inevitable.

Snape didn't speak, preferring to plant kisses along the spinal bones on Harry's neck, as he lowered himself down and into his new spouse. He felt himself breech into the younger wizard, feeling his young husband tense in reaction.

Harry gasped at the intrusion, some residual pain overriding the magical cream.

“Hurts,” he managed.

“Not for long, my brave one,” encouraged Snape, “It will pass quickly as you accommodate me.”

“I hate you Snape.” Harry choked out, even as the pain did indeed subside.

“Hush. You're exquisite.”

Harry groaned as Snape began moving, the feeling of supreme intrusion overwhelming the young Gryffindor. His own cock remained hard due to the cream and lingering traces of the potion he consumed. Harry again grasped the bed sheets, wishing for the humiliation to be over.

Snape increased his rhythmic assault, reaching around to grasp Harry's cock. The younger wizard was taken by surprise and quickly climaxed again. The resulting reaction of Harry's brought Snape to his own end, and he emptied himself into his younger partner.

Both men lay gasping, their mutually sweated bodies calming together. Snape's spent cock mercifully slipping from Harry.

“Get off me.”

Harry struggled to free himself from Snape's grip. He pushed at the older wizard and maneuvered himself to the bed's farthest edge. He drew his legs up protectively, wrapping himself cocoon-like in the bed linens, the only visible part of him was his scar standing out in relief on his damp forehead.

“Harry,” ventured Snape, “Don't turn from me now. What you just gave me was magnificent.”

“Leave me alone, will you?” Harry pleaded, his voice quavering.

“Are you....physically all right? Any bleeding? ”

“How would I know?” Harry answered in a disgusted voice, “I feel.....used.”

“We will shower then.” Snape then added with hesitation, “Besides....the witness needs to be given the....uh......sheets.”

Harry sat bolt upright, a look of horror on his face. “What do you mean???”

Snape looked at him. “Wizarding law required a witness to our......consummation. I'm sorry Harry, I thought it easier if you weren't told.”

Harry looked around the room in horror, searching for the vantage point they might have been observed from.

“Who the bloody hell is it??” he demanded.

“I don't know Harry. Come, let's go to our bath. A house-elf will do the necessities and hand the sheets to the witness.”

Harry tore back the silk comforter himself with an angry flourish. Before him, to his shame, the fine sheets were flecked with his blood evidence.

He groaned. “Here's your prize, Snape. Are you proud of yourself?”

Snape took hold of Harry's shoulders, attempting to lead him from the room.

“It's very little, Harry. It was expected......the first time. Better there is some physical evidence, to satisfy the thirsts of the Wizengamot. Let the witness bring them to the Ministry of Magic. You needn't think on it any more.”

Harry shot Snape a look of disgust, but left with him for the bath, anxious to cleanse himself of the sordid business.

“I can't believe someone just watched me get fucked,” he remarked angrily.

 * * *

Newly released from the Petrificus Totalus spell, that only allowed freedom of vision, but no speech or body movement, a devastated Ginny Weasley numbly accepted the balled-up sheets that her former boyfriend had sacrificed his virginity on. Her father waited in his borrowed Ministry car for the trip back to London with the evidence, grateful and proud of his daughter for doing her duty.

CHAPTER THREE: TIME AND TRUCES

“Harry! For Merlin's sake, focus, will you!”

Harry, shaken from his fogged state, as he recalled his wedding night, could only reply, “What... what ?”

Snape shook his head while Foki Pettigrew stamped his foot with impatience.

“Professor Snape, a suggestion.” Foki ventured.

“Which is?”

“Maybe Harry arrived the same time here as you did, but he was unconscious for days. Some food might help.”

Foki tried not to look smug, but he knew from the look on Snape's face that he was right.

Snape turned to Harry. “Are you hungry?”

Harry thought for a moment, then said, in realization, “Famished.”“Let me handle this,” declared Foki, “There's no one around, I'm going to conjure some decent fare for all of us. None of this miserable worm-infested military rot that we have to eat when others are around.”

Snape looked at Harry again, relieved to see his young spouse at least intact. “You'll have a bath too, Harry. At nightfall, safe from prying eyes. You will feel better.”

“Grand,” he answered flatly, his fatigue keen.

The three wizards sat at the plain dining table in Snape's quarters and devoured the food Foki had prepared. They ate mostly in silence, Harry stealing glances both at his husband and at the relative of his parents' betrayer.

“So, this is my fault we're here?” Harry said suddenly, directing his question to Snape, but not removing his eyes from his now-empty plate.

“Don't put it like that,” Snape began, “Your powers are growing exponentially since we've been wed. The lesson in warfare strategy was going rather badly, when you called me a few choice names, and we ended up here.”

“Are you trying to tell me we played dress-up in American Civil War uniforms, and I got pissed at you, and brought us here??” Harry almost laughed.

“That is precisely what happened. Apparently one of our two swords must have been an old, historical portkey, of sorts, and when we touched blades, that factor, plus your constant criticism of me, your famed explosive temper, brought us here to the vortex of the original battle.”

This time Harry laughed aloud. “Oh Snape! What a spoonful of horseshit that is!”

Snape turned to the diminutive Foki, “You see how difficult he is? As stubborn as his father.”

“HEY! YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT MY FATHER!! JUST BECAUSE HE GAVE EVERYONE A VIEW OF YOUR DINGY KNICKERS!”

Snape colored in memory, but held his composure. “I was a awkward teenager. You know very well my hygiene is impeccable now.”

Harry raised his voice again , “OH I DO...I REALLY DO! SINCE YOU WANT SEX WITH ME AT LEAST TWICE DAILY, I'M QUITE FAMILIAR WITH YOUR UNDERGARMENTS!!”

Foki, already of small stature, sunk further down in his hard wooden chair. “Whoa! Too much information!”

“Yeah, well......sorry!” offered Harry, calming himself as he saw the humor in the situation.

Snape watched the exchange calmly, sipping at his conjured wine, biding his time.

“Are you finished, Harry?”

Embarrassed, the red-faced wizard could only nod.

“So, Harry, where exactly is your sword?”

Harry looked blankly at the two wizards. “I didn't have it when the soldiers found me. It must be somewhere back there.”

“With any hope,” replied Snape. “Tomorrow I will ride there to look.”

“I'll go too,” said Harry.

“Unfortunately, that is impossible. You are a Union prisoner, remember?”

Harry put his head in his hand. “Oh, this is all so crazy. What's going to happen? Do I sit in a Confederate jail or something?”

Snape replied. “Harry, this is a field command. There is no prison around, and I've no intention of letting you be sent south to Andersonville.”

“Andersonville?” Foki and Harry asked together.

“A Southern camp,” informed Snape, “Killed more Union soldiers through disease than bullets and mortars did on a battlefield. Besides, someone of Harry's age......and obvious beautiful features would be passed around like a corn biscuit dipped in honey. He wouldn't last a night.”

“Watch it Snape,” snapped Harry.

“He's right, Harry” added Foki, “But I don't think you're much safer here, out of Snape's protection.”

“Precisely why Harry will be quartered in this house with me. Better to let the junior officers think I fancy the prisoner to use him as a wife, than to let them have their turns. Command does have it's privilege.”

“Which you will be, isn't that right Snape?” Harry added sarcastically.

“Why Harry, we are wed, after all.” Snape said, satisfied.

Harry yawned.

“A bath first, then to sleep. We have much planning in the morning to get out of this place.”

“Bath? Where?” asked Harry, looking around in the old-fashioned farmhouse and seeing nothing that remotely resembled a bathroom.

“Never you mind,” Snape looked out the window to see full dark had fallen.

“Come with me, Harry, you will enjoy this.”

The night was hot and dry, and Harry tugged at the neck of his unfamiliar uniform as he trudged behind Snape to some unknown destination.

“Hell Snape, it's hot!”

“Keep your voice down,” Snape scolded in a whisper, “Sound travels on the night air, and I do not wish us to be followed.”

Harry scowled, continuing to follow his husband in silence. Presently, they arrived at a small stream, tho meager, the largest concentration of water in the immediate area.

“Spangler's Spring, Harry,” said Snape. “Tomorrow, battered, wounded and dying soldiers of both sides will discover it for it's pure,soothing water. Tonight, it is our alone.”

“It looks wonderful,” remarked Harry, “Is it deep enough to swim in?”

“Not really. The weather has been hot and dry.” Snape paused. “Harry, I want you to try and bring up the water volume, just for tonight. Then we may bathe in it's refreshing waters."

“But....I've no wand.”

Snape smiled. “I know that. But based on the fact we ended up here, I suspect you harbor more powers than you even know. I want you to concentrate, with all your being, and succeed in engorging the waters.”

“Oh, engorging is it then Snape?” Harry said slyly. “Judging by you, I'm successful at engorging things.”

Harry whirled. Without leaving time for thought, he held his right arm out, index finger pointing.

“ENGORGIO AGUA!!!”

The stream broadened and deepened, the sound of running, whirling water becoming more prominent. Harry looked at his handiwork in amazement.

“It bloody worked!” he stated in awe.

“Well done, dear husband!” declared Snape, already pulling his sweat-stained Confederate uniform from his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry grinned, too proud of himself to react to Snape's words. He undressed more quickly than the older wizard, and waded into the delightful water, the moonlight illuminating his fair skin.

“Our time here will be short, Harry. We can't chance troops finding us, so enjoy this while you can.”

Harry stood in the current, rivulets of cool water running from his naked body. “I can remedy that temporarily.”

The young wizard brought his arms tight across his chest hugging himself. He released his arms, turning a full circle, before lowering himself into the water.

“If it all went well Snape, I've warded us from discovery for an hour, hopefully.”

“My talented husband.” Snape commented, as he lay back in the water and studied the moon and stars.

Again Harry did not comment, whether consciously or not, for he too was mesmerized by the brilliant night. He lay, his hair floating in the water, staring up at the most brilliant canopy of stars he had ever seen.

The thin splash of water was Harry's only clue Snape had moved beside him. He expected, then felt, Snape's hand entwine with his own under the water.

“I despaired those days you were lost from me Harry. I knew where I had landed, but I prayed to the gods the same current of time would bring you again to me. If you weren't to appear before this battle was over, I was going to join the fight on that third and fateful day, and go down under some Union sword rather than live without you.”

Harry lifted his head to stare at Snape, his full pate of raven hair flat against his scalp, his scar almost glowing in the moonlight. He could find no words to answer his new husband's.

“I know we will get back, Harry, owing to your enhanced powers. I know the defeat of Lord Voldemort is at hand surer than I've ever felt before. What I saw you perform tonight fills me with not only confidence, but extreme pride. You are everything to me Harry, and I will sacrifice my own expendable life, if necessary, here in 1863, or at Hogwarts, to see you triumph.”

Harry's brilliant green eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, but again found no words.

“I could die ecstatically happy right now, you realize, my last vision in this world looking at you as you are now. A young Greek god on the cusp of his life's epic battle. You will be immortal to the wizarding world, Harry. Your name known alongside Merlin.”

Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry despite drinking what he felt was tankards of the pure river water.

Snape drew close, his own body now cool and refreshed. He slowly brought his lips to Harry's, thrilled when he felt, for the first time, his young husband not pull away, physically or mentally.

Snape held his breath at his tenuous hold on his husband's hand. He wished for nothing to disturb the sweet moment.

It was Harry who spoke first, calmly, his voice absent of anger and hurt.

“It nearly killed me when I was told Dumbledore wanted this. I couldn't think, couldn't function. I felt so betrayed. I still cringe sometimes when I think of what......what you and I do together.”

“So terrible, Harry?”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Well, it still feels strange. Not to be so blunt, but I never figured, all those terms of sitting in your classroom, all those undeserved detentions, all those points you took so freely from Gryffindor, that you would be inside me nightly. Sometimes, it's just so bizarre.”

“It's good for you then, Harry, no longer any pain?”

“No, and you bloody well know you get me off each time. I shake my head at that one. It's that I've.......”

“Accepted it?” finished Snape. He gave Harry's hand a little squeeze. “Maybe even enjoy it?”

Harry laughed again, “Oh hell! Don't say that! My parents....what would they have thought? And Sirius......” The young wizard flushed.

It was Snape's turn to laugh. “Sirius,” he said in a pseudo-sneering tone, “Why do you think he never married?”

Harry turned to look at Snape, splashing cool water over both of them.

“Are you telling me that Sirius........??”

Snape rose up on his elbow, ignoring the hard river rocks under his arm. “Harry. This lifestyle is widely accepted in the wizarding world. Is it so hard.......”

“Sirius......and who?” interrupted Harry.

Snape clucked his tongue. “We are gossiping like Muggle wash-women. It's really of no.......”

“I want to know,” Harry half-begged . He realized he was always hungry for news of his family, however extended.

“Not my father!” Harry's eyes grew wide and dark in the pale moonlight.

“No, not your father, although it was, and is, quite common for Hogwarts boys to dabble, whatever their sexual orientation. If you must know, he was most often with Remus Lupin.”

“Remus.” Harry said aloud, thoughtfully. “Jeez.”

“An astute observation, Harry,” kidded Snape, lowering himself back into the stream, markedly closer to his young husband now.

The older wizard leaned in to place a tentative kiss on Harry's lips and he was not rejected. Encouraged, Snape trailed a line of light kisses down his young husband's neck to the pulse point.

“Ah, Snape.” Harry sighed, “I don't know.....”

“Don't know what? What is it, my captive soldier?”

“Why I'm letting you do this.”

Snape lifted Harry to the stream's bank where the ground, unlike most of the surrounding area, was supple and green with abundant grasses. Harry's skin felt delightfully cooled from the water, and his skin prickled in the warm night air.

He stared at the night sky as Snape continued his ministrations. Harry's cock rose quickly in response, and he let the feeling take him.

Harry felt his hardness being cupped in Snape's hands, as his former teacher's kisses trailed lower. Snape's lips were upon the very heart of him, when he stopped the older's wizards progress.

“No,” breathed Harry, “This time it's my turn.”

A surprised Snape was urged onto the ground, on his own back by Harry's gentle push.

“Harry.......you've never.......”

“Be quiet, will you,” he whispered, “You'll bring your whole army here, Commander.”

Harry paused a moment before his hand grasped his husband's cock willingly, for the first time. It was wholly strange to the young wizard to be doing something he never imagined he would. He brought his other hand to cup Snape's heavy testicles, weighing them in his hand almost in comparison to his own.

Harry would have thought himself lacking, had Snape not told him endlessly in the weeks they had been together how desirable his own organs were.

Snape hissed next to him, and Harry, in his naivete thought he had hurt the older wizard, but the look on the man's face told him otherwise. The reaction gave him the courage to experiment further.

Harry continued. He lightly trailed his tongue around the full spongy head of Snape's cock, feeling each nuance of it's perfect structure. He boldly teased at the opening, tasting pearly drops of pre-come, before trailing his tongue down and around the shaft.

“Oh gods!” moaned Snape, softly.

Empowered, Harry placed his mouth full over his husband's erection. He explored the texture and taste of the large member, and surprised himself by noting how natural the action felt. Harry tightened his lips around Snape's cock, and began to rhythmically draw up and down on the fleshy pole.

He felt Snape's scrotum tighten under his hand, as he realized his own erection and sac felt heavy with desire.

“Harry...please....I'm so close,” breathed Snape, “If you're not ready......”

“Quiet!” hissed Harry lowly, “For once consider yourself....not in charge!”

Harry returned to sucking his husband's cock, the interruption amusing to himself. He slathered the organ thoroughly with his saliva and increased his stroking pace.

The abrupt tensing in Snape's scrotum signaled the older wizard's ejaculation, and Harry braced himself for the experience of swallowing a man's essence for the first time.

He could feel the jet of fluid hit hotly deep in his throat, it's taste and texture foreign, but not unpleasant. Snape shuddered under his touch, and the young wizard's cock spurted it's contents immediately following.

Harry collapsed down to the crook of Snape's arm, his own breathing as rapid and shallow as his partner's.

“Merlin's beard!” gasped Snape, “Forgive me, Harry!”

“For what?” asked Harry, smoothing his unruly hair.

“For denigrating the level of your magical ability when you first arrived at Hogwarts.” Snape sat up, shaking his head, “You have no magical equal in what you just did.”

Harry laughed, adjusting his eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose, “Long overdue apology accepted.”

It was Snape's turn to surprise Harry by kissing him with an emotion previously unrivaled. Harry accepted the gesture, as he accepted his growing fondness for his former potions teacher. He felt Snape's hand reach between his legs, and shifted to accommodate his touch.

“Open for me, Harry,” Snape said lowly, his silken voice stirring the young wizard's senses. Harry was fully hard again, and he groaned softly as he felt his husband's cool, wet finger find his entrance. Harry's response, conscious or not, was to open his legs further to the probing.

Snape slipped in easily, finding Harry already prepared to take him.

“Now Snape,” breathed Harry, “I don't even know who I am anymore.”

“But you want this.” whispered Snape.

The older wizard slipped his own hot erection into his husband's body, eliciting a low grunt of acceptance from the young wizard. Harry gritted his teeth as he willed himself to fully relax and take Snape in deeply. He grabbed at the stream bank, pulling clods of soil and grasses into his tense grip, as his body accustomed itself to his husband's considerable girth. Harry grabbed at Snape with muddied hands, urging him with words and pleas to possess his body fully.

“With you willing, Harry,” Snape said with effort, “ I have all I've ever begged for since I first looked in your eyes.”

“Then take it, Snape,” urged Harry, “What I'm giving you.......it's yours to take.”

With Snape balanced over him, Harry stroked his own flesh until he felt himself reaching another shattering climax. Harry's body arched and bore down on his husband, drawing from Snape his own satisfying end.

When it was over, both wizards wordlessly slipped into the cooling stream once again, cleansing muddied bodies, lips locked in grateful appreciation of each other.

 * * *

“Snape?” Harry asked questioningly, as they made their way back to the farmhouse. “What about tomorrow? You know..... the beginning of the battles?”

Snape, dressed again as was his young husband, stopped the progress of the two to address Harry.

“I have a first name you know. Are you ever going to use it?” His request was not made without the hint of a smile. The smile of a happy man.

Harry had to laugh. “Don't count on it.......not yet anyway. Forget that for now, I'm serious. You know tomorrow is the first day of the Gettysburg battle, you taught me that. The question is.....what are we going to do to prevent the insane casualties?”

Snape frowned, clasping his hands behind his back. “I thought you understood, Harry, my sweet noble Knight.”

“Understood?”

“Harry,” Snape continued without looking at the young wizard, “We can do nothing.” His words held a strong air of finality.

“Nothing?? But Snape, we're fucking wizards! We have to do something!”

Harry searched his mind for details Snape had told him about the upcoming battle. “Well, what about that civilian woman? You know, the one you told me was killed when a bullet hit her inside her sister's house? Are you telling me we can't even try to prevent that?” Harry's voice rose in indignation.

Snape sighed. “For a moment, try to imagine we indeed save that woman from death by a errant bullet. How do we know she does not then survive to say, marry and produce an heir who then assassinates a future American president? Or any influentiall person who is otherwise destined to have a significant role in American history? We know that if history proceeds as it would tomorrow, that, heartache or no, America survives what comes, be it this war and the too many that follow it.”

“That's stretching it, Snape,” Harry shook his head in disagreement. “You have no way of being sure our trying to save some of the horrible deaths and injuries the next three days will do more harm than good.”

“Again, Harry, we will not interfere, we must not.”

“Boys my age, and younger, will be dead or dying by tomorrow night! How can we not do this!”

Harry kicked at the ground in front of him, raising a cloud of dust. He pulled away from Snape's effort to take his arm in comfort.

“This must not be our fight.” Snape stated heavily.

They arrived back at the farmhouse, still well before dawn. Foki handed each a cup of his home-brewed coffee as they settled into the kitchen. Harry waved his offered cup away, still upset at his inability to help the doomed soldiers.

Snape warded the simple structure against unannounced visitors and took Harry to his bed, where the young Gryffindor lay close against his husband seeking his own meager comfort.

* * *

In the morning Harry awoke to the sound of scattered gunshot. He quickly came fully aware to find his husband awake and already dressing.

“Snape?” inquired Harry, already knowing himself what was happening.

“Yes Harry, the skirmish has begun. The Northern side is occupying Gettysburg, and the Southern forces are trying to rout them from their occupation.”

Harry jumped out of bed. “Look, it doesn't much matter which uniform color I'm wearing now. I'll blend in with the Northern troops, you stay with your command, there has to be something we can do!”

“Harry, no!!”

“Bullshit, Snape! Maybe you can just stay here and..........”

With Harry's back turned, his hands tugging on his cavalry boots, Snape nodded regretfully to Foki Pettigrew to perform the Petrificus Totalus on his young spouse.

Harry would have hit the floor hard, if not for Snape's deft catching of his paralyzed body. He lowered Harry to the bed gently, a look of surprise frozen on the young wizards face.

“He'll be insufferably angry at me when I return, Willard,” said Snape, sheathing his sword into it's place at his waist. “You stay here, re-establish the wards on this house. I will ride and search for Harry's lost sword.”

The rat-faced American wizard nodded, looking in Harry's direction. “How will you find the sword? You don't even know exactly where the Confederate soldiers found Harry.”

“When I draw nearer to my sword's mate, if I'm close enough to it, my own will hum subtly, growing louder until they are re-joined.”

“Cool,” observed Foki.

“Quite....whatever. Keep watch over Harry, Willard.”

Outside, on a morning that already dawned hot, Snape ordered a Muggle soldier to prepare his horse. He glanced in the direction of the town, where the gunfire continued, and was grateful he would be riding away from the day's battle.

“Colonel Snape, Suh.”

It was Lieutenant Taylor who spoke, this time accompanied by two Southern officers Snape did not recognize.

“Morning Sir. We've not been called to action this morning as yet. Expect this skirmish to blow over briefly anyways. Thought we might just take that Yank prisoner off your hands.”

“Off my hands?” Snape replied, with a hint of menace in his voice.

Lieutenant Taylor shifted in place. “Well, Suh, he was not returned to the general prisoner holding camp last night. Figuring the Colonel had some use for him. If you don't mind, my friends and I would be happy to show the Bluebelly some Southern hospitality, pass him around a bit, then dispose of him quiet-like, protecting all of our good names.”

“What are you implying, Taylor?”

The Lieutenant struggled to cover his faux pas. “Suh, I did not mean to imply anything about your.....character. This is wartime, and we've all been away from our wives far too long. Fact is, us stumbling upon a Yank soldier prettier than any Northern maiden we've set eyes on, a body's need just take over. Meaning no disrespect, Colonel. Besides, it's well know one of own generals fancies the lads, and he's got wind of this beauty. Most anxious, if you will, to sample that fair flesh. It would be profitable for all of us to reap the benefit of putting the Yank lad on his knees before the General. Hear tell the General is most generous if he favors the gift offered.”

Taylor doffed his feathered hat and bowed to Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes, his onyx pupils boring into the flustered officer. “So, in the meantime, you are giving me leave to sodomize the boy at will? Is that it?”

Lieutenant Taylor reddened. “Suh....please.....,” he sputtered out.

“Fools!” thundered Snape, “If you had traveled in the circle of society folk, as I have. You would have recognized the whelp as the son of Senator James Potter of New Hampshire. He is far more valuable as a bargaining tool for the Confederacy than murdered and lying in some swamp with the leavings of Southern officers moldering deep within his arse. Please be sure to convey your regrets to the General, he won't be laying claim to this pound of flesh.”

Taylor and his comrades flinched collectively.

Snape smiled. “Do not attempt to abscond the boy either, gentlemen. I can have you placed straightaway in the midst of the fighting, and I have a keen instinct for just where the bloodiest skirmishes are likely to occur.”

Taylor reluctantly saluted Snape, correct in his notion that it was better to leave and improve his odds of staying alive. As the trio of soldiers retreated, Snape mounted his horse and set out in the direction Harry had been brought from yesterday.

The time of leaving this foreign place and time could not come soon enough for the older wizard as he journeyed under the relentless sun.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE SOUL OF SEVERUS SNAPE

Snape returned late afternoon, covered with the dust of the road, and in a mood equally dry. All morning he had been following the trail of his sword's mate, finally arriving at the place it had to have been wrested from Harry by the forces that brought the young wizard to this time and place.

The finely honed blade was absent however, it's brilliant shine a beacon for the fortunate soldier who strayed upon it in the march to Gettysburg, and claimed it as his own. Snape had resolutely cursed the empty air, and headed back to the farmhouse.

As Snape approached the simple structure, he could hear the battle full to his north. He knew the skirmish had shifted to the area know as Little Round Top and Devil's Den, as well as he knew it would be a day of some 9,000 casualties on each side. With each gun blast, with each mortar explosion, the need to return to their own time grew more urgent.

Snape dismounted and quickly entered the farmhouse, where he found the American, Pettigrew sitting at Harry's side.

“Release him, Willard.”

Relieved, the rodent-featured little wizard waved his wand and Harry's body relaxed into the bed coverings. He scrambled up and off the bed in a furious mood, having been aware of all that was happening around him since he had been stunned.

“You fucking arrogant bastard!!” he snarled at Snape, “Don't you hear what's happening outside?”

Snape remained calm. “I hear it, Harry. And, I've seen it. We have to leave as soon as possible.”

“The sword?”

Snape shook his head.

“Give me yours,” Harry asked impatiently, “I've been feeling something all day since I could not feel anything else but that fucking coma you put me in.”

Snape hesitated, not sure of Harry's actions. The young wizard made a noise of disgust, and unsheathed the sword.

“Harry, will you.....”

“Be quiet! Both of you!”

Harry held the razor-sharp sword in his hands, deftly grasping the blade end without injury.

“I feel it,” he observed, “I feel it's attraction for my sword, like it's magnetic or something.”

“Actual location?” asked Snape, “Can you divine that?”

“I know who has it,” Harry stated succinctly, “It's Chamberlain. It was given to him by a field sergeant who knew it was too valuable for a junior officer to keep.”

“Colonel Joshua Chamberlain has it?” asked Foki, “And just where is he?”

“In the thick of it,” Snape answered humorlessly. “He will survive the battle today. We will retrieve the sword tonight, then leave. We had the advantage of knowing where he is.”

“Then we wait,” said Foki.

“Do we have another choice?” Harry added with disgust, “We aren't allowed to prevent even one death.”

“We wait.” Snape answered. “Willard, the battle may draw closer. I want you to make this farmhouse invisible to Muggles, as The Order of the Phoenix headquarters is, and alter the memories of Lt. Taylor and his men as to this location.”

“I can do that.”

“Hey, how come you have your wand anyway?” Harry asked of the diminutive wizard, “We didn't travel with ours.”

“Simply because,” Foki said smugly, “You called me here, to you. I had time to equip myself. You two would have had your wands if you hadn't been costumed for your training exercise, and holding swords instead of wands,”

“I guess,” conceded Harry.

“Let's all go inside,” interrupted Snape, “The sun is merciless, and we need to be concealed.”

“Professor Snape,” asked Foki Pettigrew, “Are you alright? You are very pale.”

“Even more than usual,” Harry added with a touch of sarcastic humor.

“I'm fine. Inside now, both of you.”

The interior of the farmhouse brought only a small bit of relief, but at least the men gathered around the functional kitchen table out of the sun's hot glare.

Outside, the battle raged in full, with Harry and Foki Pettigrew starting frequently in their seats.

“I'm going to go stark mad, Snape if you don't divert me with something,” Harry pleaded, his eyes moist, “I don't think I can stand this.”

“What would you like me to do, Harry?” a sympathetic Snape asked.

“Oh, I don't know. Tell me about your childhood or something. If I'm going to tolerate you enough to be married to you I should know your background. I'm sure Dumbledore's told you of mine.”

“Dumbledore knew many things,” observed Snape, “He knew our joining would increase our powers, especially yours. Notice how you felt the presence of your sword.”

“I guess,” agreed Harry, still not willing to let go of his anger toward the late Headmaster totally. “Anyway, tell me about yourself.”

Snape sighed. Talking about his background and childhood was something he detested, as he valued his privacy intensely. He almost declined, if not for what he perceived was Harry's right to know.

“I was always home tutored, in my eleven years before I entered Hogwarts,” began Snape, settling uncomfortably onto the rigid wooden kitchen chair. “My family was of wealth, and my circle of acquaintances was thereby limited to those few families my parents thought suitable.”

“You were wealthy?” asked Harry, “Are you still? I mean.....you don't act the spoiled rich boy.”

“Potter, if you are going to interrupt at every gossipy turn, I will most certainly not continue. I don't wish to go into every detail of my personal life here and now, except to say, to satisfy your curiosity, I am still wealthy. My fortune resides unneeded and unlusted after in Gringott's Bank. Now, may I continue?”

Harry looked genuinely contrite. “Sorry, go on, I guess I should have known, I mean, with your huge home and all.”

“My interactions with witches and wizards when I was a child was mainly with the Malfoy and Black families, Purebloods only, of course, my family would not acknowledge any others, despite my father's own secret of being born a Muggle. Even these relationships were limited by my own desires. I preferred my own company when I was a boy.”

“When I arrived at Hogwarts, as you did, in my eleventh year, it was my first opportunity to mingle with other wizards outside my circle. I was quickly sorted into Slytherin House, as most Purebloods were, even though I was not, but I had my first glimpses of magical students of mixed blood, and most terrifyingly attractive of all, wizards who were called Mudbloods , even in my day.”

Snape shifted in his chair, reading the subtle look of contempt on Harry's face at the use of the word Mudblood .

“I was painfully shy then, and terribly unsophisticated for a well-born wizard. I was as homely as you see me now, and therefore shunned as friend, but valued as an object of ridicule.”

“You are not homely! Why do you even say that?” interjected Harry, despite his promise not to interrupt.

Snape smiled slightly, “I seem to recall a certain green-eyed Gryffindor, in his usual passion, remarking on my.....what was the phrase you used? ‘Abnormally-large nose'....was that it?”

Harry flushed red. “ That was a child's comment. And a Gryffindor's. I am no longer either.”

Snape cleared his throat and rotated his shoulders before continuing.

“That very first day at Hogwarts I sought solitude in whatever form I could. I sat in the courtyard of the student library soon after receiving my room assignment. While I was boarded with boys of my own class, Lucius Malfoy, then an upperclassman, was still in my House, and now I would see him nearly year-round. I could barely tolerate his arrogant behavior the first ten years of my life. I was dismayed I would have to reside so close to him the next. My first year at school was miserable enough with him. I was nothing but the target of his pranks and jokes, and tolerated only within his circle for my Pureblood breeding, false as that was.”

Snape looked at Harry, noting the young wizard was about to issue a comment again, but Snape held the boy's silence with a wave of his hand. Harry sighed and held his tongue.

“Things began to change after my first year. Lucius was graduated, I was turning fifteen, and while I knew I grew taller the previous summer, the teenaged years were still patently cruel to me. My body was lean, and tall. I was well-muscled, but I did not outgrow my large nose and dour look I had as a youth, rather, they grew with me......... Oh, Potter! , what is it you cannot silence yourself from saying?” asked Snape, seeing the look on Harry's face.

Harry swallowed. “Sorry, Snape. I guess I just felt the need to apologize again.”

“Then do so, and let me tell the story you have demanded to hear.”

“Well, I'm sorry, really.”

Snape smiled thinly. “If I may continue, a slight aside here. I had begun to realize by that summer, that my sexual fantasies, and yes, they were purely fantasies at that juncture, involved thinking nonstop about other boys, and only boys , from school. One in particular, whom I hadn't seen since holiday, had arrived back at school much changed in the few short months. He had grown taller too, and had evolved from skinny boy to finely-toned young man. His jaw seemed to have squared further with resolve, and he carried himself in the confidence of a born student leader. To me, he was nothing short of magnificent. The bastard knew it too, how he attracted admiring glances, and worse, knew that I was infatuated with him.”

Snape sighed. “He teased me unmercifully with the fact too. My existence at Hogwarts was increasingly miserable, by my own hand. In my lust for him, I would do whatever he asked, as his servant if he willed it, rather than his equal and classmate. He would allow his body to brush against mine, then laugh when he knew I would react to that. He tortured me with my own vulnerability. In short, he tossed me a bone, and instead of holding on to my youthful dignity and refuting him, I would gnaw that bone at his feet for the chance to stay in his favor.”

Snape raised his eyebrow at Harry, giving the subtle hint again for the boy to remain silent. Harry, sensing his Professor's own pain, waited in silence for the teacher to resume.

“This student was discovering his own sexuality at the time too. In his case, he filled me with stories of his own desires, and, tease tho he was, all his fantasies involved laying waste to the entire upper class population of Hogwarts girls. Since he had so occupied himself with the conquering of the female student body, I began to find the courage, the balls if you will, to regain my lost dignity and find my own way through the rest of school. I attended more Quidditch games, solely as spectator of course, I had no talents there, but I gained confidence in meeting others. I was still painfully shy, but I forced myself to be more than a running joke and doormat.”

“Leaving a Quidditch match one day, I was set upon by this student's cronies, who were bored and in need of some mischief to wrought. The object of my affection was not with them, he was in some after game Quidditch huddle, and his lackeys sought me out in his absence. I was not injured beyond my pride, having my robes stripped from me and great sacks of chalk dusted upon me so I looked immeasurably paler than you see me now.”

Harry smiled at Snape's self-effacing humor, but thought he couldn't possibly look less bloodless than he did at the moment.

“To my great surprise, I was helped to my feet by someone I could not see at first, being temporarily blinded by the chalk dust, but whose lilting voice made me forget my sorry situation. Her touch was kind, her words were sympathetic, and I soon found my eyes and face being cleared by the delicate ministrations of her soft hands, When I could see again, I saw this great beauty before me. A red-haired Gryffindor lass with incredible green eyes and a smile that invited immediate friendship.”

“My mother,” said Harry, very gently.

“Yes, Harry. Your mother Lily was my first real friend at school.....well, my first real friend ever, actually. She was kind to me, and invited me to wait with her while her boyfriend changed from his Quidditch uniform. You see? Your mother was quite the diplomat. She offered friendship but set the parameters to avoid awkwardness and future heartbreak. She let me know, that first day, there was a boyfriend in the picture, and that would never be my role. Clever, sweet girl. She was perceptive, that was true and suspected exactly who I did indeed desire in that relationship.”

“I knew you had been talking about my father,” Harry said, without further comment.

“Yes,” Snape answered gently. “I was formally introduced to James Potter by his admiring girlfriend. He was fairly tall, with dark, terribly unruly hair and round spectacles. As expected, of the pairing with a beautiful woman, he was a beautiful young man. Reminds me of someone, but his name escapes me now.”

Harry laughed softly.

“James Potter gave me a polite hello before whisking his girlfriend away to wherever the young and in love go to be with each other. Lily looked over her shoulder and gave me a wave goodbye, a wave that was filled with the promise of a continuing friendship. And it did continue, your mother was a gem to me. Around her I did not feel clumsy or homely, and I treasured the chats we had together. Early on, she was able to glean my preferences for boys, even that I fancied James, but it made no difference to her, she was not revolted or even slightly put off by the notion. She knew I would never do anything to interfere with her relationship with your father, that I would never act upon my impulses. I was her good, safe friend.”

“Invariably, and inevitably, I found myself in James' circle of friends by default. Lily, wanting to include me in activities, had tried to get me accepted in James Potter's tight group. But your father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were not in need of companionship of a pale Slytherin outcast. Despite my overtures of friendship, your father began treating me much as Lucius Malfoy did the final year he attended. He was equally skilled in hurting my feelings. There were no serious sexual overtones from James, he was entirely heterosexual, and perhaps he tortured me in his own way in retaliation for my relationship with Lily Evans. No matter, my life became a routine of remaining good friends with your mother and enduring the antics of your father.”

“Hey, I'm sorry, I have to interrupt here. I would have beat the shit out of my father if I were you. I mean, I love him, of course, but if I look at this objectively, I can't understand why you put up with it. You were bigger, and stronger......maybe you couldn't defeat Lucius Malfoy, but why not my father?”

“Harry, I'm surprised.”

“At??”

“I would never have betrayed my friendship with your mother. I had to be content with worshiping your father from afar. Your mother knew my true feelings, but your father didn't even conceive of how I actually felt, lest he tear out my throat and part me from my genitals. It was an amusing game to him.”

Harry guffawed.

Snape's face darkened.

“Then an unfortunate incident happened. I was the unknowing catalyst, the binding tie, that brought, by no design of mine, your parents to an accidental meeting with my former house mate, Lucius Malfoy. Lucius returned to Hogwarts one spring weekend. Through his own powerful family's influence, he was a new member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors as well as an up-and-coming official at the Ministry of Magic. I was assigned to show him the changes to the School since his few years away.”

“As a seventh-year, and a Slytherin, his path had never crossed your father's in his final year. It wasn't until I was escorting him around, that we encountered your parents, strolling in the fine spring weather. With Lucius, it was all about his sexual awareness and prowess, and, while engaged by now to Narcissa Black, he still made male conquests as his first desire.”

“I saw it immediately,” observed Snape, “He was struck to silence by his first glimpse of your father. Perhaps it was that James was a straight boy, obviously with a girlfriend. Maybe it was that he was a star player on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Regardless, James was unattainable to Lucius, which only made him desire your father all the more. I sensed disaster brewing, unlike your mother, for I knew Lucius Malfoy, and that he always got what he wanted.”

“You're trying to tell me that Lucius and my father.........”

“Your father sensed what Lucius wanted, the arrogant silver-haired bastard had none of my subtlety. James might not have realized it that first meeting, but Lucius made attempts to keep close to your father's company. When James finally realized what Lucius was implying, he laughed and thought he could dismiss the spoiled Pureblood's infatuation as easily as he dismissed my own. Lucius, however, was not to be dissuaded. James' rejection of him only made his desire more urgent, more thrilling.”

“Lucius became obsessed with James. It became his sole focus to have the one boy, the one student who patently rejected him. The more your father ignored him, the more Lucius pursued. I felt I was looking at a mirror of my own prior behavior when I was Lucius's lap dog, and it made me realize doubly how pathetic I must have looked to the entire school. Lucius became brutal with me, and others he thought thwarted his efforts to have your father.”

“Since we in the wizarding world are more openly tolerant of alternate lifestyles, Lucius did not feel he had to hide his feelings about James. At Quidditch matches, at the Spring Ball, indeed, as I think back, in almost any public setting, Lucius professed his desire for your father to his face. Depending on what mood he was in, James thought this either laughably preposterous, or frustratingly annoying to deal with.”

“Lily did not, at all, find Lucius's behavior the least bit amusing. Malfoy was contemptuous of your mother to begin with, for the reason she was not of Pureblood heritage. He dismissed her importance in your father's life as easily as if she were an insect to trod upon.”

“James was a jokester, an annoying prankster, but he found himself caught in the middle of this most serious situation, and increasingly, he was losing his edge for seeing the humor in this scenario. James asked Lucius to meet him at the edge of the Forbidden Forest one night, well after midnight, so Filch would not detect his absence. Your father was determined to end Lucius's miserable behavior, especially toward Lily, by reason of talk, or fist, or wand, for the situation was becoming intolerant for both your parents.”

“Lucius agreed to the meeting, he told me so in the Slytherin commons room. Judging by the look on his face, he was greatly looking forward to the encounter. I felt immediately uncomfortable, knowing that Lucius was not a brawler and would not be looking forward to beating up your father, but arrogantly feeling he could still seduce him. I sought James out, warning him to take care during the evening's meeting and to tread very carefully.”

“With the usual Potter pride, James spoke condescendingly to me, assuring me he could handle Lucius as deftly as he handles a Quidditch broom. I left him outside the Gryffindor commons room saying goodbye to me with a complacent and confident look on his face I sincerely wished to wipe off myself.”

Snape clicked his tongue and shook his head in memory of the moment. “I was strong enough to physically lay your father flat on his annoying arse that night. If I had, a lot of misery could have been avoided.”

Harry looked directly in Snape's eyes, his own wide with apprehension.

“Go on,” the boy wizard said quietly.

“The two did meet that chilly night, James ready and spoiling for a fight, up against a budding enemy he knew very little about. Eternally optimistic and fun-loving James, naive enough to not only let his guard down, but never to have put it up. Lucius had no intention of leaving James that night without.........”

“Raping him, isn't that right?” interrupted Harry angrily, “A talent it seems he developed earlier in life than I thought, raping the male line of the Potter family. I'm right, aren't I?”

“Yes, I'm sorry to say,” then Snape added quickly, his eyes narrowing, “What has he done to you, Harry?”

Harry scowled. “He tried. Got me in a hall off the Astronomy wing. Stunned me, and shoved his hand down my pants, but other than a quick grope......... interrupted by Filch, of all people. Boy, was Malfoy pissed! Told me this wasn't finished....... the fuckhead .........Forget this for now, ok? It's a story for another day.”

“And then I married you, Harry. And brought back the bad experience.”

Harry shook his head. “At first.......” He waved his hand in dismissal. “What was my father like.....after?”

“Your father looked so much like you Harry, except for his eye color, but he had led a more carefree life than you did, and was mentally less capable of dealing with the aftermath of the attack. He didn't have your hard life, and therefore didn't develop your resiliency.”

“At the very first he hid the details of the meeting from your mother, explaining his bruises as resulting from a mere scuffle with Malfoy. But, very quickly, Lily, Sirius, Remus and Peter saw the changes in him. He became sullen, nervous, and short-tempered, characteristics he never had before. I knew straight away what had happened. Lucius told me matter-of-factly what took place at the meeting, and in fact, how much James had enjoyed it, though he didn't realize it yet, according to Malfoy.”

“Bastard.” Harry said with gritted teeth.

“Lily and your father's friends figured out what happened. Sirius Black immediately sought out Lucius and threatened to kill him in his Animagus form, as Padfoot the dog, and rip out his elegant throat if he touched James again. Remus Lupin promised not to drink the potion that would prevent him from turning into a werewolf, and instead would tear Malfoy limb from limb if he molested James again.”

“Lucius was a pompous fop, but he was wise enough to realize he wanted to keep his pretty neck intact.”

“He never touched James again. Your mother, Lily enlisted my help as friend to bring James back around to his normal self. He alarmed her with his despondency, with his hints at taking his own life.”

“My father?? My father considered killing himself?”

“We'll never know how close he came to that brink, Harry. Lily and I were able to bring him around over time. I convinced him he would not awaken gay some fine frosty morning, and I guess he saw the logic in that. Gradually, his humor returned. Life at school for him took back some semblance of normalcy. He avoided Malfoy whenever he visited the school, and never reported him to Dumbledore. Your parents married shortly after graduation, as a result, I think, of the act committed upon your father, and his subsequent need for a normal life. Unhappily, as we know, their period of bliss did not last very long.”

“You did all this for my parents? You really could have taken advantage of my father after he was raped and convinced him he was no longer worthy of Lily. You loved him, you might have had him then.”

“Harry, it was precisely because I loved him, that I could not take advantage of the situation. Don't forget, I loved your mother too, as my friend.”

“And me? Why were you such a shit to me the moment I arrived at school all those years ago?”

Snape grimaced. “Oh Harry, now, in retrospect, I don't even know why. I had avoided even glimpsing at you in secret the years you were growing up in the Dursley household. I knew from Dumbledore that you were the spitting image of your father, with the exception of your mother's extraordinary green eyes. When I knew you were arriving at Hogwarts to begin study, I secretly sought you out for a glimpse before the sorting ceremony.”

“You did?? When? Where?”

“Does it matter? I knew I had to see you in private so I might not react in front of the other staff. When I saw you standing in the front foyer, waiting to enter the Great Hall and be sorted, I nearly lost my breath, and my footing.”

“You were standing there, James Potter reborn, but with Lily present too, in your eyes. My insides quivered and I felt weak in the knees like some Muggle society maiden at her first debutante ball. I fell irretrievably, and hopelessly in love all over again. In the very instant I loathed myself. After all, you were eleven years old and I was in my thirties. I was always undereducated in the emotional side of life, Harry, so I reacted to you the only way I knew how.....I acted like I despised you. Have no fear, Harry. I had no desire to bed you while you were a minor, but time cured that, didn't it?”

Harry smiled. “Thank you Professor for leveling with me about the relationship between you and my parents. You really are an extraordinary man. Teach me all you can about defeating Lord Voldemort, and I promise you I will be your most faithful student."

* * *

“It's full dark, and it's nearly eleven,” said Harry, “ I lost the sword, I'm going to be the one to retrieve it.”

“But Harry........what we discussed.....” warned Snape.

“I know where my fight lies now. Listen....the sound of gunshot is almost silenced. Up there, between Little Round Top and Devil's Den, men on both sides lay wounded, dying or just plain discouraged, and I'm going to ride right through them, and get your family's sword back. I know I can't help them, just like I also can't prevent what is going to happen tomorrow.”

“Let me get the sword,” asked Snape. “It's safer for me to go.”

Harry looked into his husband's face, seeing genuine concern there. He smiled slightly that his new husband had just confided so much of his own painful life to him. It almost surprised Harry how close he felt to the older wizard.

“I don't know how, Snape, but I know so much more than you. I even know the Colonel Chamberlain is studying the sword right now. Imagine, Colonel Joshua Chamberlain of the Union Army. You've fancied studying the American Civil War, tell me a bit about him.”

Snape gave Harry a strange look with regard to what the young wizard had just told him about his abilities.

“You're growing very powerful, Harry.”

Harry dismissed the observation with a slight wave of his hand. “Just tell me about Chamberlain.”

“Well, he is from Maine, known as a fine officer. He was supposed to be placed in a relatively safe and obscure area during the conflict here, but wound up in the thick of the fighting. He survives this battle, and the war. I got the impression he was a most honorable man. Do you need more background?”

Harry shook his head. “No, all I really needed to know was what type of man I'm dealing with. More like you than Lucius Malfoy, I should think.”

Snape raised his eyebrow, and smiled. “Is that a compliment, Harry?”

“If you need one, it is. Now, help me get your horse ready, don't call any soldiers over. I'm going to walk the adjacent field and saddle up when I'm out of sight. I'll ride around the perimeter, until I reach Little Round Top, from behind, where Chamberlain is.”

“You'll find the way?”

“I'll feel the pull of the sword, I do already. It wasn't as strong before, but I feel it very pronounced now.”

“Will you let me at least.......”

“I'm going alone,” Harry interrupted, “And I will come back successfully.”

The two wizards readied the cavalry mount, struggling a bit with the unfamiliar task of saddling a horse.

“I'm not much for sitting a horse, I've been told that,” Harry commented.

“And this from one who has ridden a hippogriff?” said Snape, tightening the girth around the animal's belly.

“Easier,” answered Harry with amusement. “I certainly wouldn't mind Buckbeak here now, to bring me to the Northern lines faster.”

“Just keep to the silent woods,” coached Snape, “In no time you'll be behind Union lines, and can ride freely.”

Harry took the reins from Snape's grasp and wished him and Foki Pettigrew farewell.

“You'll get it, Harry,” encouraged the tiny wizard.

“Hope so.” Harry blew out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding.

On impulse, Harry leaned up to kiss his husband full on the lips. Snape reached his arms around the boy, and returned the embrace with equal passion.

“Go on,” he encouraged, “Return to me as quickly as you can.”

Harry led his horse as quietly as he could away from the safety of his husband and American protector. He looked back a few times at the two wizards standing by the farmhouse until they faded into shadow. When he was out of earshot of even the remotest Southern soldier on patrol, Harry mounted his horse, and turned him northward to the Union enclave on the rocky hill outside the town of Gettysburg.

Hogwarts, and everything familiar, had never felt so far away.

CHAPTER FIVE: AN OLD THEORY TESTED

Harry rode north in silence, the gentle chuffing of his mount's hooves the only sound in the night air besides the song of crickets. The occasional pop of gunfire brought Harry from his thoughtful revelry, and he shifted frequently in his saddle.

The young wizard's thoughts drifted, inevitably, to Albus Dumbledore. Harry thought he could again think of him more kindly, but with the damaged psyche of the ever-maligned, Harry could not totally release his anger towards the deceased Headmaster. He admitted, reluctantly, to himself, that Dumbledore's wish for Harry and Snape to marry might not be the death-sentence he once thought.

Harry laughed aloud, albeit quietly, his horse's ears perking and twisting at the foreign sound. He wondered how life had come to the point where he would not only be tolerating his former potions professor, but actually married to him.

And Harry could not deny there were growing feelings between the wizards.

Life is fucking strange.

“You! Soldier, down off your horse!”

Harry roused from his slight daze to see the barrel of a hand pistol pointed directly at his head. He instinctively raised his arms and swung his leg over the saddle, sliding off his horse with a steady step.

“Identify yourself, Captain, you have no regimental insignias on your person.”

Harry tried to look at the collar of his uniform.

“Keep your hands up, Captain!” The young officer took a step backward, and cocked his pistol.

Harry spoke evenly. “I am Captain Potter of the.....First Washington....uh......Scouting corps. I'm uh.......here to see my cousin Colonel Chamberlain. Could you kindly direct me to him.”

“His cousin? From where Sir? London-town?”

“Yes, well, actually yes, I was born there. That is not unheard of, is it?”

“No Sir, it is not. Very well, your horse will be attended to, we walk from here.”

Harry realized he had approached the crest of little Round Top from its eastern slope. He was brought quietly through groups of exhausted soldiers, the luckier ones whole and intact, the maimed crying out softly for the mercy of death. His throat tightened as he stepped gingerly between the prone men, careful not to trod on any of the injured.

Harry had never wished so hard in his life for his wand so he could bring the neediest gift of all to the pathetic men........water. He looked away, focused on where he was stepping, and tried to shut out the surroundings.

“Over here Captain.”

Harry stopped short as the soldier leading him stopped and saluted a distinctively mustached officer. Harry knew, from a picture that Snape had shown him, the man he observed was Joshua Chamberlain.

“Colonel, Sir, this Captain claims to be your cousin.”

Chamberlain looked up from where he sat on a low-to-the-ground footstool. He held a tin cup in his hand that he had been sipping from. He eyed Harry intently.

“And so he is, soldier,” Chamberlain replied, returning the salute, “You may return to your post.”

The soldier paused momentarily, then saluted again before leaving Harry with the Union Colonel.

“You know I am not your cousin.” Harry stated to Chamberlain.

“Of course,” the Colonel smiled, “The battle has left me exhausted, not addled.”

“It's a great pleasure to meet you Sir, I'm Harry Potter, and most certainly not an officer, much less a Captain.”

“I see a schoolboy, likely. For all your military trappings,” Chamberlain grinned warmly, “Tell me, how do you know me?”

“I know of you. I've read........”

Harry stopped. He had momentarily forgotten the fact Chamberlain was not of his time.

“About me?” Chamberlain smiled again, “Sounds very mysterious. Tell me, did you read I was a dedicated teacher, or perhaps it was........?”

“Yes,” Harry said boldly, “It was in a history book........how did you know?”

“Young Sir, I'm astute enough to realize all things are out of the ordinary since this began happening.”

Chamberlain gestured at the bundle that was lying across his lap.

Harry watched as Chamberlain untied a wrapped object. It was no surprise when Snape's sword was revealed, it's polished steel gleaming in the available moonlight.

Harry stared at the sword, noting it seemed to be glowing faintly. He glanced skyward at the moon, seeing only a dull sliver peering through black clouds.

“You're seeing it correctly, young man. The sword is glowing on it's own, though never as brightly as when you arrived. Bend to touch it, confirm something for me.”

Harry went to one knee and reached for the sword's haft. The intensity of the glow appreciated. He withdrew his hand and looked at Colonel Chamberlain.

“I am a wizard Sir,” Harry began, “From a time beyond this. Somehow I ended up here, and I'd very much like to return home with this sword. It does not belong to me, but it was lost from my keeping.”

Chamberlain cocked an eyebrow at Harry.

“I don't blame you for not believing me, Colonel Chamberlain. I don't wish to interfere here, I'd like to be on my way home.”

“What makes you think I do not believe you, Potter?”

“You do?” Harry answered with surprise.

“Young Sir, after a day like today, I would believe anything. If I can believe hell can exist in a small obscure town, I can believe a boy standing before me is magical.”

“I'm not a boy anymore.” Harry said, without knowing why except to soothe his pride.

Chamberlain poured Harry a cup of the steaming coffee. Harry took the cup and grimaced at the bitter taste of the hot liquid.

“My apologies, young Potter. It's chicory, all we have left. And yes, I apologize further, you are certainly no boy. You have seen much, that shows through.”

“I'm married too.” Harry added, surprising himself at uttering the words that used to bring him so much distress.

“Married, is it!!” Chamberlain exclaimed, “Well, you indeed look quite young for that, if I may be so bold.”

Harry decided, prudently, not to talk further about the nature of his union. He politely sipped at the almost-coffee.

“You will survive this war, Colonel.”

“Oh, indeed?” said an exhausted Chamberlain, with an air of resignation, “That I should have this chance when so many other will not? Tell me, Harry Potter, what of our beloved union?”

Harry was confused at the Colonels's words.

Chamberlain smiled patiently, “Our cause, of which you borrow the uniform?”

“Oh!.....sorry. Yes, the Union stands. The North wins.”

Chamberlain emptied the remains of his now-cold coffee on the nearby campfire, causing the smouldering fire to spatter and hiss.

“Yes,” continued Harry, From what I remember, the war ends in........”

“Please!.....Sir...no,” Chamberlain held up his hand to silence Harry. “If the time is further away than I could bear right now, I'd rather not know.”

“Very well,” Harry now emptied his own cup. “May I leave now Sir, with the sword?”

“It belongs to you, young Potter. Whether you are it's mere keeper on not.”

An odd thought entered Harry's head, and he smiled. Actually Seeker.....not Keeper.

Chamberlain handed Harry the wrapped sword. It pulsed strongly in his grip, even through its covering of muslin. The Colonel stared at the transferred sword for a few moments, before looking into Harry's face.

“You have your own war ahead, don't you son?”

Harry smiled thinly, doffing his hat to mop his sweated hair off his brow. “I do,” he answered simply.

Chamberlain caught a glimpse of Harry's scar in the reflected fireglow.

“Interesting. A mark of all wizards?”

Harry realized what the Colonel was staring at. “No Sir, my own personal burden.”

“An interesting talisman.”

Harry looked thoughtful. “ Talisman. ....yes.”

“Good luck to you then, Potter. I sincerely hope you are victorious in your own battle.”

“Yes, thank you Sir, it was my pleasure meeting you.”

“Does history remember me kindly?” Chamberlain asked with a trace of amusement.

“More than.” Harry answered simply.

“On your way then, young visitor. And mind you, avoid General Pickett at all costs.”

“George Pickett, Sir?” asked Harry.

Chamberlain laughed, escorting Harry back downhill to his waiting horse.

“If you knew him, you'd know why. It was my very great pleasure meeting you, Harry Potter.”

“And I you, Colonel. And thank you.”

Harry held the sword aloft in it's wrappings as he lead his mount down Little Round Top to rendezvous again with his waiting husband. Colonel Chamberlain followed Harry's progress until he was out of sight, the trail of glowing light visible to the Union officer for a considerable distance.

* * *

It was Snape who picked up the sword's glow that Joshua Chamberlain had so recently marveled at. His heart swelled with pride at the accomplishment of his young husband, thinking how very far he had progressed in his leadership abilities. He watched Harry dismount, and with almost ceremonial pride, hand the sword over to it's ancestral owner.

“Well done, Harry.”

Snape embraced the flushed young wizard, and Harry was not hesitant in returning the gesture.

“It was a great honor to meet Colonel Chamberlain, Snape.”

“It was he who had the honor, Harry.”

Harry beamed. “Are we going to try to return home immediately?”

“I would like to Harry, but we'll have to wait for the hour of three o'clock a.m. Willard says he must return in the thinnest hour of morning, and I would like to see him successfully departed before us.”

“And, until then......damn, that's like nearly three hours.”

“Willard has fixed us supper. The remaining time we will.....uh..... strengthen our bond to ensure the success of the trip.”

Harry laughed. “Oh good one, Snape! Any excuse, right?”

“For your information, my dear husband, the act of our making love will most certainly increase our chances of returning successfully.”

Harry, confident with his successful retrieval of the sword, bounded up the farmhouse's few steps.

“Let's eat first then, I'm starved!”

Dinner was followed by the American wizard's discreet disappearance to the house's front porch with the excuse of preparing himself for departure.

Snape led Harry to the bedroom on the second floor, his own body trembling in time to the young wizard's.

“Harry,” began Snape, “With you willing.......I mean.....I'm so in awe of my good fortune.”

It was Harry who opened the bedroom door to reveal a plainly decorated room with a sturdy four-posted bed just in front of them. Harry began tugging at his hot, woolen uniform as he pulled his husband into the room.

“I want you inside me, Severus.”

The older wizard paused in surprise. “ Severus, is it then?”

“It fits, now. Hurry up, undress. You're not afraid of me, are you?”

“Oh, Potter, hardly,” Snape faced Harry, smoothing the boy's woefully messy hair from his eyes. Harry, in turn, tracing a long finger up and down his husband's breastbone.

Snape shivered slightly at Harry's touch. He pressed his lips to the young wizard's mouth.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“For what?”

Snape sighed, He glanced to the floor briefly before again meeting Harry's deep-green eyes.

“Intimacy, Harry. In my somewhat stilted existence, I've had scattered sexual encounters, but none ever approached the concept of fulfillment. They were anonymous couplings. I've no experience with intimacy. It is quite lovely, you know, to wake up with someone you have been intimate with. Especially one as lovely as you.”

“Lovely?? Severus, I tend to be described in somewhat feminine terms. Should I be concerned?”

“You transcend the sexes, Harry. You are beautiful of feature, yet your being hides the soul of a noble warrior. A most appealing blend you are.”

Harry reached for Snape's semi-hard cock and stroked it lightly. Snape hissed pleasurably at the overt boldness.

“Use this weapon of yours on me, Snape. I won't be able to think right until you've fucked me thoroughly.”

“Fine, Potter. Then, as usual, as in your school career, be prepared to receive your detention.”

Snape leaned over Harry and kissed him in the hollow of his neck, his own longish black hair tickling the young wizard's sensitive throat. He traveled lower and found the boy's already erect nipple waiting for him to sample it. Snape took the tender nub into his mouth and sucked lightly at it.

Harry groaned involuntarily at the ministrations of Snape's expert teeth and tongue. He brought his hands up to Snape's face, trying vainly to hold back the older wizard's intense touch.

“No you don't, my fearless Knight.” Snape took his own stronger hands and gripped Harry at the wrists, pressing the boy's hands flat on the mattress. “You wish to tease like a man, you must receive a man's sweet punishment in return.”

Harry allowed himself to be pinned defenseless as Snape continued the assault on his sensitive nipples. He moaned and squirmed under the older man's surprisingly erotic mechanisms, his own body growing sweated with the intensity of the acts.

Snape kissed Harry on his jutting hip bones, causing the young wizard's stomach muscles to contract in ticklishness. Harry, his hands still prisoners, was unable to defend himself against the welcome torture. The older wizard nuzzled his nose and mouth in Harry's soft pubic hair, causing the boy to cry out from the intensity of the sensation.

“Oh gods.......Severus!” Harry croaked, sensing Snape very close to his fully hard erection. “You're killing me.”

“No Harry, just disciplining the arrogance out of you a bit.”

“Anything, Professor, anything you say,” said Harry breathlessly, “Only, please...... I need.......”

“Impatience, Sweet boy? Snape clicked his tongue with amusement, “The bane of your generation. Make this a lesson in self-control.”

Harry groaned again, this time in exasperation as Snape skirted around touching that part of himself that was most neediest, and kissed the boy on the tender inner thigh instead.

“Torturer you are, Not Potions Master. Chief High Inquisitor Torturer.”

Snape smiled. “Thank you, my husband, I accept the title.”

Snape licked at Harry's tight scrotal sac, still deftly avoiding contact with the young wizard's straining penis. Harry, nearly delirious with the sweet toying, opened his legs wider to permit full access to his ultra-sensitive perineal area.

Snape released Harry's wrists and brought his index finger to his young husband's suddenly parched lips.

“Suck this finger, Harry, like it was my own cock, if you want me to then slide it in your hot inviting arse.”

Harry eagerly lifted his head slightly and sucked at Snape's long finger, his own level of arousal supreme at this point. He released the finger from his mouth sure he had coated it well with his own saliva.

“Fuck me with it Snape! I need any part of you in me at this point!”

“Patience, Harry, only a preview.”

Snape's spit-slicked finger found Harry's entrance and the young wizard startled with grateful relief at finally being penetrated. He maneuvered his hips until Snape obliged the agitated young wizard by inserting his finger to the third knuckle.

“Hmmmm,.... nice......need....more.....goddamn you, Severus!”

“Seems the phrase; ‘always leave them wanting' suits you Harry, It may be unconventional, but you have to admit this is a novel way to teach you patience.”

“And I've proven I have none,” gasped the young wizard, “Please.......”

Harry reached for his own engorged cock and began stroking it until Snape intervened, slapping the boy's hand away.

“Not yet. I won't let you off that easily.”

Harry groaned loudly in added frustration, alternately despising and desiring his husband for wha