Harry Potter, Severus Snape and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. The author, and the website maintainers, is making no profit by this story or any of the site's contents.

Later

Jay Tryfanstone
2005

 

In one hand, the heavy bunched linen of the altarcloth. In the other, falling, the cold brass of a candlestick that was supposed to be solid but has proven to be as unsteady as his knees. His mouth is open but will issue no prayer and the concept of sanctuary has been impaled and shattered by the clench of his own arse on Severus Snape's cock. Light blossoms behind his closed eyelids.

"Have you come to confess?"

Snape says, strained and harsh, the words stretched to broken rhythm of his flesh.

"Penance, Potter?"

No. No. No
.
Harry has never told a rosary, sung a psalm, stood for the Kyrie Eleison or bent his head for the blessing. He has, however, understood the phrases blood of my blood and shed for you since he was twelve months old although putting words to the concept came a little later.

People died.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.