A/N 2: The first part of this chapter is about Christmas dinner and it’s safe to read. The second part of this chapter, where Severus helps to heal Harry, is initially safe but diverges into a painful flashback of rape and torture and is quite dark. If you want to skip the dark parts, but still read the helpful parts and the rest of the chapter, start at the line “Severus considered his words before he spoke.” Otherwise, feel free to skip it and I’ll summarize what happened in the author’s note of the next chapter.

Once inside the house, Harry and Snape hung their winter accouterments and left their skates and shoes by the shoe bin to dry.

“I’m starving,” Harry said.

“Why don’t you go take a quick shower and I’ll see about lunch,” Snape suggested.

“All right,” Harry said. It was a bit of an odd suggestion for Snape to make, but he shrugged. He had been quite sweaty while trying to learn to skate. He took a quick sniff of his armpit and grimaced. Perhaps Snape could smell him.

When he returned, he found the table filled with more food than he’d ever seen at the safe house before. He reckoned they could have fed ten people with that spread.

“Dobby outdid himself, I see,” Harry said.

“Perhaps he overheard you say that you were starving,” Snape said with a smirk. “Come and sit. I believe we have Christmas crackers to open.”

Harry plopped down in his chair, the smell of the food making his stomach rumble. “Do you want to go first?” Harry asked, picking up his red-and-gold-wrapped cracker and weighing it in his hands.

“You are younger,” Snape said, reaching out his hand.

Harry handed him the one end and together they pulled the paper cracker apart. A satisfying pop later, Harry opened his cracker to find three small individually wrapped Honeydukes chocolates, a Niffler figurine that was palming a gold coin, a ridiculous felt hat that made him look as though he had a large wrapped present sitting atop his head, and the obligatory bad joke.

“Why are Christmas trees so bad at sewing?” Harry asked.

“Hmmm…” Severus said. “It must have something to do with needles.”

“Yep. Because they keep dropping their needles.” Harry grinned and set the joke aside. “All right, your turn.”

Snape held out his green and silver cracker and Harry took the other end. Together they pulled. Snape’s had a louder-sounding crack and the small Honeydukes chocolates in his spilled out onto the table, along with a dragon with smoke spewing from its nostrils.

“Let’s see your hat, then,” Harry said.

Snape scowled and pulled out the brown felt hat. It took him a bit to untangle it but, once he did, he slid it over his hair, where a reindeer with tall antlers sat perched atop his head.

“Brilliant,” said Harry. “Much more classy than mine.”

Snape harrumphed and fished out his joke. “What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?”

Harry pondered the question but came up with nothing. “I don’t know, what?”

“Frostbite.”

Harry laughed. “That’s pretty good.”

Snape cocked an eyebrow but then smiled. “I’ve had much worse.”

“Me too,” Harry said, popping a chocolate in his mouth. “Can we eat?”

Snape nodded and Harry looked put some prawns on his plate for starters. “Oh! Don’t forget we have mince pies for dessert.”

“I believe we’ll have enough dessert to last us for weeks,” Snape said.

 Glancing around the table, Harry had to agree. Aside from the main meal, there were four desserts: spotted dick, plum pudding, trifle, and a Christmas cake. Grinning, he took in the main course. A roasted goose garnished with currants lay in the center of the table. Spuds, roasted parsnips, and Brussels sprouts were the featured vegetables. There was also bread sauce, chestnut stuffing, gravy, pigs in a blanket, and the prawns they were now sampling.

To one side of him, a steaming wassail bowl was brimming with hot, mulled wine. Cloved oranges and cinnamon sticks floated in the delicious-smelling liquid. To the other side were a few tureens. He lifted the lid on each of them to find them filled with different thick cream soups. His stomach lurched in understanding as he set the lid back down. Those were for him in case he couldn’t stomach the holiday feast. He pushed away the thought, determined for this to be a normal Christmas, food and all.

Lunch was, of course, delicious. The Hogwarts house-elves never disappointed when it came to food, and holiday meals were no exception. Harry ate his fill of the main course and, as he sipped his wassail, debated what to have for dessert.

Snape didn’t seem to have the same problem with indecision that he did. A flick of his wand later and the plum pudding was floating in the air between them, alight with flames.

“May you enjoy your Christmas, Harry, and the year to come.”

“You as well, sir,” Harry said, watching as the food on the table slid to the sides, making way for the flaming dessert.

Once the fire had gone out, Snape cut each of them a small piece.

“I’m going to miss these meals once I leave Hogwarts,” Harry remarked.

“You could always stay,” Snape said. “Some do.”

“As a teacher?”

Snape shrugged. “Teacher, research assistant, coach. There are many staff positions at Hogwarts.”

Harry looked away. “Everyone wants me to be an Auror.”

“And what do you want to be?”

Harry sighed. “I have no idea, but the idea of chasing bad guys for a living has lost its appeal.”

“I imagine it has.” Snape finished off the last bite of cake and drained his glass of mulled wine. “I reckon you still have plenty of time to decide.”

“Yeah, that’s what Ron says, too.” Harry twirled his glass of wassail, watching as a stray clove was buffeted about by the dark liquid.

“Harry.”

“Yeah?” Harry glanced up to see Snape looking at him strangely. He looked uncertain.

“I have another Christmas gift for you. I brewed you a potion.” Snape paused and rubbed his chin, looking uncomfortable. “I do not wish to insult you. I merely thought that… perhaps…” Snape scrunched up his lips and his brow furrowed.

“What does it do?”

“I brewed it to, well, to erase your burn scars. If you wish.”

“Really?” Harry felt suddenly giddy at the thought of being able to get rid of the horrid circular scars that decorated his skin. “That’s brilliant, sir!”

At Harry’s reaction, Snape’s shoulders dropped and the stressed expression on his face vanished. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a transparent tub filled with a pearlescent peach-colored gel. “I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.”

“Did you create the potion yourself?”

Snape nodded. “I tested it thoroughly and it appears to work as intended.”

Harry squinted his eyes, suddenly suspicious. “How, exactly, did you test it?”

“I created similar burn marks with the tip of my wand and then used the potion to remove them. The results were sufficient.”

Harry gaped. “You burned yourself to test a potion? For me?”

Snape shrugged off Harry’s concern and got to his feet with the jar in hand.

“And they say I’m mental,” Harry muttered.

“What was that?” Snape asked.

“Nothing, just, thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Although I would rather you tested it on me instead. It wasn’t necessary to hurt yourself for no reason.”

“I thought I had a rather good reason,” Snape said. “Now, let us retire to the bathroom where there is a large mirror.”

Once inside the small room, Snape instructed Harry to sit atop the vanity. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to apply the potion to the burns on your face.”

“Go ahead,” Harry said, sitting up straighter. Instinctively, he placed his finger on the roughened round patch of skin that lay right beneath the corner of his right eye.

Snape conjured a hand mirror and gave it to Harry so Harry could watch Snape work.

“This is why I instructed you to take a shower, by the way,” Snape said. “I wanted your skin to be clean.”

“That makes sense,” Harry said. “Will it hurt?”

“No. It feels cool upon application. It will tingle a bit as it penetrates the scar tissue. Then there is a sizzling sound, followed by a pop. Then it is over.”

“All right, I’m ready.” Contrary to Snape’s reassurances, Harry still feared it would hurt. But even if it did, it would be worth it. His heart raced at the prospect of the awful scars being gone. He hated to think how he’d explain them when Ron and Hermione asked, much less everyone else.

“Take a deep breath and relax,” Snape instructed as he dipped the middle finger of his right hand into the jar and came up with a small dollop of potion-y goo.

Harry held his breath as Snape’s finger came toward him. He flinched and pulled away when Snape barely touched the skin near his eye. “Sorry. Maybe you could do the one on my temple first?”

“Of course,” Snape said.

Holding the mirror in his hand, Harry watched as Snape directed his finger to the round scar on his temple near his hairline. He felt the cool gel touch his skin, followed by the tingling Snape mentioned. The sizzling was a bit disconcerting. The gel was literally eating away the scar tissue, like an acid or something. It didn’t hurt, but it felt odd. A moment later there was a distinct pop.

Snape used a flannel to wipe away the potion and where the cigarette burn had been was now perfectly healthy skin.

“Wow.” Harry ran his fingers over the healed skin. He felt his chest clench with emotion and his throat tighten. His eyes suddenly glassy, he looked up at Snape. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Professor.” He swallowed, trying to force the lump in his throat back down. “I thought I’d carry these scars with me for life.”

Snape put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I am glad I could help, Harry. I’d have done it sooner, but…”

“No,” Harry said. “This is perfect. It’s the perfect Christmas gift. Thank you.”

Snape nodded. “Shall I continue?” he asked, gesturing to the other burns on Harry’s face.

“Yes, please do.”

Harry watched as one burn mark after another disappeared. He felt a weight being lifted off his chest, as the physical reminders of his torture were removed, one by one.

“May I do the ones on your back as well?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said, jumping down from the vanity and stripping off his shirt. His goofy hat came off as well. He held the shirt and hat balled up in his fists as Snape applied and removed the potion to each mark.

“Will it work on my other scars? Like the one on my cheek? And the one on my hand from Umbridge?”

Snape was silent a moment. “We can try, Harry, but I’m not sure. I brewed this specifically for burn scars.”

Disappointment crashed over Harry. “If it doesn’t, maybe I could use my wand to… to burn my skin… like you did…” Harry shuddered at the thought. “Then it should work, shouldn’t it?”

Snape paused in his ministrations and came around to stand in front of Harry.

“You will not burn yourself. I will find a salve to erase your other scars if you so desire, but I will not have you injuring yourself. Do you understand?”

“Well, I wasn’t looking forward to it,” Harry said in defense of himself.

“Good. Let me finish the ones on your back and neck, and then you can do your chest.”

Within ten minutes, the burn scars on his upper body were gone. Harry felt ecstatic. Until he thought about the location of the scars below his hipline. His face must have shown his distress.

“What is it?” Snape asked.

“Can this be used everywhere?”

Snape raised an eyebrow and then comprehension dawned across his face. He frowned. “I would wish to dilute the potion if you were to use it on any skin that is particularly thin or tender. I can titrate the potion to various strengths. That way, you can start with the lowest strength first, and work your way up until you find a strength that works without causing damage.”

“That sounds good,” Harry said, not meeting Snape’s eyes.

Snape put his fingers under Harry’s chin and lifted his face. “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. Nothing at all. What those monsters did to you reflects upon them, not you. Never you.”

Harry nodded. He knew Snape was right. But that didn’t help the shame that overwhelmed him at the memories.

“Why don’t I step outside and you can do the burns on your legs and feet. Let me know if you can’t reach any, all right?”

After Snape left the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him, Harry stripped out of his trousers and applied the potion, as needed, to his legs and the tops of his feet. Then, with shaking hands, he shoved down his pants and kicked them off. He didn’t want to look. It was silly, probably, but he’d avoided looking since he’d been rescued. He’d close his eyes or let them slide out of focus to avoid seeing the evidence of his torture. He didn’t want to remember. The rest of the scars were bad enough, but this, here, it was too much. He let out an involuntary cry of protest at the injustice of it all.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. He really wasn’t. 

Gathering his courage, he forced himself to take his flaccid penis into his shaking hands and glanced down. He had to pull apart the stretchy skin to find the circular marks. Gods, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to remember them touching him there, in that dark, cold cell. Unbidden, the images came. One of the men, the taller one, the one with the lit cigarette dangling loosely from fingers or lips, had kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The men had shouted and laughed, prodded at him with hands and boots. Harry couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it was clear they were mocking him, or his body, or both.

As Harry lay curled in on himself, trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of him, he felt fingers scrabbling against him, nails scoring his skin, searching for something. Then a hand was clawing at his penis, painfully digging it out from between his legs. Harry had screamed and tried to jerk away but his ankles and wrists were bound.

The man had laughed, his hand closing around Harry’s member and squeezing.

Unable to get away, Harry had tried to make himself a moving target, but the man merely straddled Harry’s thighs and sat on him, effectively holding him in place, while his other captor placed a booted foot on his chest. Then the first man had begun to stroke him.

“No,” Harry said, just as he’d said then. “No! Stop! Stop it! Stop it!”

In the distance, someone was pounding on the door and calling his name.

Harry dropped to his knees and bent over, sobbing. “Stop it, please. Stop. STOP!”

Severus’s heart raced as sweat trickled down his back. This was why he hadn’t been sure that giving Harry the scar potion was a good idea. He hadn’t been sure the boy was ready. Clearly, he wasn’t.

Snape summoned a blanket from the sitting room and wrapped it around the boy, who was huddled on the floor, naked, trembling, and sobbing. Snape helped him to his feet and then cast a Featherlight Charm on him before sweeping the young man into his arms and carrying him to the sitting room.

He set Harry on the couch and then grabbed another blanket and threw it over his front. It wasn’t so much that Severus cared that Harry was naked, but he knew that Harry would be mortified to find himself so exposed, especially after all that had happened to him.

Severus put an arm around Harry and pulled him in close. “Tell me,” he murmured.

Harry sobbed even harder at Severus’s words and Severus felt his heart clench for the young man.

“You are safe here. No one can hurt you here. I won’t let them.” Severus squeezed Harry’s shoulders. “Can you tell me what happened?”

 “I can’t,” Harry cried. “I... I just can’t.”

Severus closed his eyes. He hated to push. But there was only one way through this mess and he was the only person Harry had to see him through it. “You can. You can and you must. It’s the only way.” Severus held him tighter and rested his cheek against the top of Harry’s head. “No matter what they did to you, Harry, it wasn’t your fault.”

Harry keened louder and buried his head against Snape’s chest. He began to rock back and forth, unconsciously seeking comfort.

Severus rubbed the boy’s back and whispered reassurances to him.

Harry’s breathing was ragged when he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “He touched me… there...” Harry said. “And he… he kept at it until… until... fuck,” Harry cursed, shaking his head back and forth, as if to deny what had happened to him.

Snape had a good idea where this was going and the thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

“Keep going, Harry. I’m right here. You’re safe. You can do this.”

Harry clawed at Snape’s chest and Snape took Harry’s hand in his, giving Harry something to hold on to.

“He kept pulling on my… on me… until… until I got hard,” Harry forced out, his voice going shrill. “I didn’t want it, I didn’t. I swear. I didn’t. But he made me… made me get hard… and then… and then he…” Harry squeezed Snape’s hand and rocked harder. “He didn’t stop,” Harry sobbed. “The other guy was watching and laughing. He wouldn’t stop until I… until he made me…” Harry whined in despair.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut and held Harry tighter.

Harry gasped and let out a sob. “Until I came. And then he… he took his fag and burned me… there… over and over... ”

Emotion clogging his throat, Severus cradled the young man to him. “I am so sorry, Harry. I am so sorry they did that to you.” With Harry distraught as he was, Severus wasn’t sure the boy even heard him.

Then Harry was squirming, trying to get away from him. Severus opened his arms, unsure of what was happening.

Harry fell to the floor, on his hands and knees, keening and rocking back and forth, his skin glistening with sweat.

“Harry?”

And then Harry was vomiting, Christmas dinner coming up in all of its undigested glory.

Severus knelt on the floor beside Harry, stroking the boy’s back as Harry continued to vomit and Severus continued to banish mess. When Harry was down to dry heaves, Severus summoned a wet flannel.

“I’m sorry,” Harry panted. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Hush,” Severus soothed him, handing Harry the wet cloth. “Vomiting is one of the ways your body purges emotion. It may not be pleasant, but it can be quite cleansing. It’s a way for your mind to expel some of the negative emotions around what happened to you.”

Severus draped the blanket that had fallen away up over Harry’s shoulders. Then he helped Harry back onto the couch.

“All right?” Severus asked.

Harry nodded, wiping his eyes.

“Rest there a moment and I’ll get your clothes for you.” Severus retrieved Harry’s clothes from the bathroom and brought them to the young man. “You can get dressed here. I will go and make us some tea.”

Severus returned a few minutes later, sans his ridiculous Christmas hat. He handed a cup of tea to Harry, the one he’d added a calming and stomach soothing draught to. Then he took a seat next to the boy, close enough to be within reach if Harry needed him but not so close as to crowd him.

Severus considered his words before he spoke. “Harry, I am proud of you for telling me what happened.”

Harry bit his lower lip and gazed into his teacup, his breathing still a bit labored.

“I also admire your strength for having the courage to speak of it.”

Harry curled his lips in and bit them in a way that made Snape think he was trying not to cry.

“I know this isn’t an easy subject to talk about. For anyone. But there are some things that it’s important you understand about what happened to you.” Snape took a deep breath. “First, what they did to you was about power and control. They wanted to feel helpless and they wanted to humiliate you.”

Harry buried his head in his hands and Snape reached over and squeezed Harry’s shoulder.  

“Second, your body reacted just as it was made to do. You did nothing wrong.”

At this, Harry let out a sound of disgust.

“If I punched you in the arm right now, really hard, what would happen?”

“It would hurt,” Harry muttered through his fingers.

“What else?”

Harry took a deep breath and sat up. “I reckon I’d probably get a bruise.”

“Precisely,” Severus said. “Could you stop yourself from getting a bruise?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Right. And what would happen if I cut you with a sharp knife?”

“I’d bleed,” Harry admitted, wiping at his eyes.  

“And could you prevent your body from having that reaction?”

Harry shook his head.

“Exactly. And when that vile man touched you,” here Harry shuddered at Severus’s words, “your body reacted exactly how it was meant to react.”

Severus reached out and took Harry’s hand lightly in his, leaving space for Harry to pull away. Instead, Harry grabbed on tightly.

“Just as you can’t stop a bruise from forming and you can’t will your body not to bleed after a wound, you can’t prevent yourself from getting an erection or ejaculating when physically stimulated.”

Tears began to trickle down Harry’s cheeks.

“That has nothing to do with you as a person, Harry. You did nothing wrong. Nor did your body. Your body did what it was made to do. And that is not your fault nor your body’s fault. It is merely a consequence of biology.” Snape paused a moment. “Does that make sense to you?”

Harry nodded.

“But you still feel like, somehow, you did something wrong, that you were somehow at fault or responsible, don’t you?”

Harry nodded again.

Severus sighed with regret. The overwhelming shame and guilt, the feeling of betrayal by one’s own body, were the hardest things to get past. He should know. He squeezed Harry’s hand in understanding. “It’s especially difficult when we lose control of our body’s reactions. But I assure you, Harry, you are in no way at fault. Nor does your body’s purely biological reaction imply that you wanted it or that you enjoyed it.”

Severus gave Harry a few moments to consider his words. “Did you know that the same system that controls your breathing and heart rate controls your sexual arousal?”

Harry shook his head and wiped at his tears.

“When you experience a trauma, you can no more control your breathing and heart rate than you can your body’s arousal. It is entirely beyond your control. Just like you can’t stop your body from bruising or bleeding or sweating, you can’t stop it from becoming aroused when someone touches you against your will. Does that make sense?”

Harry seemed to shrink in on himself, but he nodded.

Snape let out a long breath. “It will likely take a while for you to be able to integrate what I have said. You may need to hear me say this all again. You may need to hear it a hundred times before you believe it.” Snape gently reached over and lifted Harry’s chin so Harry met his eyes. “I will not be opposed to repeating it as often as you need to hear it, Harry.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled.

There was more Severus needed to say, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Harry. If Harry could just come to terms with this part, he’d be miles ahead in his healing.

“What can I do to help, Harry?”

“I want the scars gone, but I…” Harry shook his head. “I just want them gone.”

Severus waited for Harry to continue.

“Can you just Stupefy me or give me a potion to knock me out and heal them?” Harry asked, sliding his eyes to Severus under cover of his fringe.

Severus caught his breath. Harry wanted him to touch him there? He’d have to make Harry erect to treat the burns. That thought made him feel sick to his stomach, as if he’d be assaulting Harry too, even though Harry had asked. Not for the first time, he wished Poppy was here. She wouldn’t feel squeamish at such a request, and he shouldn’t either.

At Snape’s hesitation, Harry said, “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.” He pulled his hand away from Snape’s.

“I apologize,” Snape said. “Your request merely caught me by surprise. I… I can do that if you wish it.”

“I do,” Harry said, shuddering. “I just want them gone.”

Severus swallowed. Merlin, help him. He was pleased that he’d gained Harry’s trust, and he’d had to examine Harry intimately once before, when they’d first arrived, but what Harry was asking felt too much like repeating what had been done to Harry by the men who’d tortured him in the first place. He debated offering to be present when Harry healed himself, but clearly the boy didn’t feel up to it and, if Severus was being honest, he was just looking for a way out.

Holding in a sigh, he said, “I can give you a sedative potion tonight before bed and heal you after you fall asleep.”

Harry peered at him with such gratitude that Severus knew he’d do anything for the boy. “Thanks, sir. I appreciate it.”

Snape hid his grimace and nodded.