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Onward into the Breach	By : QueenB Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 8401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in anyway, shape or form. The rights of such belong solely to J.K Rowling. I do not make any money or accrue any monetary benefit on this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Onward into the Breach
This story is the companion piece to When Fate Steps In by the_minx_17 on Walking The Plank.
This is set during Harry’s seventh year. This was originally started as my entry for the 2009 National Novel Writing Month. Having undergone the usual writing and re-writing, revision, editing, omissions, additions and a last-minute grammar and spelling check, it is here submitted in all its shivering nakedness, to be made a laughingstock for the jeering mob.
__________
His head pressed hard into the pillows, nothing but the chin and throat showing. The Adam’s apple bobbed as he gasped, tensed as he shrieked.
“Ah, hah…ungh… Harder, please…”
“YESSS,” the older man in bed with him hissed, his dark eyes fixed on the arched throat in front of him.
The arse clenched around his prick, sucking him in deeper. He knew when he hit the prostate, that source of never-ending pleasure for his beloved. The youthful body bent in a bow, the hips melding against his. He clutched those plump, ripe buttocks in his hands, dragging the slender body back to crush against his hips, again and again.
The calloused hands tangled in his hair, clawed at his back. Licking up the arched throat, the black-haired man nibbled at his lover’s chin. As though reading his thought, the head rose from the pillows. Glittering facets of emerald behind a fringe of hair opened up to meet his.
“Hah…hah…Merlin…fuck…” A harder thrust and the youth cried out again, a primal cry that made the older wizard glad for the Silencing Charms he regularly cast around his rooms.
He pressed his lips against his betrothed’s. More intimate than any lovemaking, he lived for these kisses. He wondered how he’d ever done without them. The nibbling on his lips, the teeth nipping, sent spasms of tingling warmth straight to his groin.
The veined cock trapped between their bodies, reddened and throbbing, dripped across the taut abdomen. He grasped it and pumped in time with his own thrusting. The stomach flexed, the toned muscles catching the oozing droplets. Every inch of his young lover was a seductive wet dream, from his jet hair to his clenched toes.
He brushed the tips of his fingers over the erect nubs beneath his and felt the body quiver. The sensitivity of these nipples never failed to astonish him. Just a breath could rouse them to needle-like peaks. Sucks and licks caused the boy to dissolve into needy whimpers. Steady, unrelenting plucking, with no other stimulation, had made his beloved cum the first time they’d lain together and subsequent times since then.
Now the arse was squeezing around him in tandem with each pull at those nips. The boy underneath was biting his lip and writhing with the stimulation of them. The elder wizard dragged his mouth back up to the soft lips and kissed his lover ruthlessly. His tongue darted between the parted lips, sucking out the juices there.
“Love…”
Those shrill cries, the breathy whimpers…
“Please,” gasped into his mouth.
The heart thundered against his like the beating wings of hippogriffs. Just a little more…
“So…fuck…I…can’t… Yes!!”
Oh, Merlin, he was so close.
The lean legs locked in a vise around his waist, refusing to release him. One of the scratching hands found that magical spot on his back and rubbed it unbearably.
“Oh, fuck! Harry!” he choked out.
Another push and the green in those eyes deepened to smoky glass and Harry arched up, his body crashing against Severus’s. Harry’s scream rang off the walls. His answering cry was more of a shattered groan but no less soul-wringing for that.
They lay afterwards in a tangle of sweaty sheets, spilled lubricant and rapidly cooling semen. At times like this, Severus could heartily wish the morning would never come. Not that they didn’t make love during the day. They seized every quiet moment to get passionate with each other, day or night. But the constraints of duty and chores made lovemaking problematic during daylight hours.
The smell of botched potions, the inane chatter of children and the tedious chore of straining his eyes to decipher someone’s messy handwriting on their homework were entirely absent from this place. Here, in the secrecy of their quarters, no one intruded. No one pressed in on their solitude. Many of Severus’s happiest memories were within these walls during these still, star-drenched hours.
He nuzzled at Harry’s throat, kissing softly until Harry purred in happiness. “That’s so good. Want me to – ?”
“Clean up? By all means. I’ve no wish to lie in a puddle of semen all night.”
“I was going to say lick you off.”
“That was what I meant,” Severus replied, smirking as Harry dissolved into laughter.
“Glad to hear it,” he said when he’d regained his breath. He shimmied down Severus’s body and began licking at his chest. Abandoning that quickly, he moved on to the cock and sucked it down in one easy breath.
“Harry! Please! Stop!” Severus cried, his hands pulling at his lover’s hair.
Harry let the prick drop from his mouth and gave him an innocent look. “What? You wanted me to clean you.”
“And you said licking, not sucking.”
Harry shrugged. “Whatever.” He gave the cock a long lick and swipe across the glans and Severus shuddered, his eyelids fluttering.
He forced himself to speak, though he could hear the raggedness in his own voice. “Harry, please. Three times in one night is the most I can manage,” he gasped.
Harry pretended to pout. “Fine.” He grabbed his wand and murmured “Scourgify.” He curled up next to Severus. “I can’t wait until the hand-fasting is over. I’m so eager for us to get married.”
“You say that almost every night, beloved. All good things come to those who wait.”
“I know. It’s just…we’ve been so lucky and happy. I guess I’m so excited about the future that I want our married life to begin,” Harry complained. “Wizards are so old-fashioned; it drives me mental. First, we courted for a year. Then we had to get hand-fasted for another. If we were Muggles, we’d have been married and had three children by now.”
“You were far too young for marriage, let alone children, when we were first courting and you know it.”
“Still…”
Severus gave him a deep kiss to silence any more protests. “Impetuous child. There is no rush. The days will fly by, swifter than you realize. Then we will have our whole lives ahead of us to be together.”
“Together,” Harry murmured. He was finally drifting off. “Love you, Severus.”
“Love you, brat.”
Harry's lips curved at the familiar nickname, a smile Severus could feel against his left side where Harry lay nestled under his arm. It was a blissful feeling and he held his beloved close until they both were swallowed up in sleep.
__________
Severus stretched, his hand reaching out automatically. After all these months, a part of him always yearned to feel his betrothed beside him. Even if Harry didn’t wake up when Severus caressed him (the boy was a confoundedly sound sleeper), he would slide unconsciously into his bondmate’s touch. This silent reassurance of Harry’s love never failed to move him.
His hand slid across cold sheets. Severus frowned. He was still bound in the last fading wisps of sleep but this chill was enough to dispel them completely and he opened his eyes.
No Harry. The bed beside him was vacant and held the impression that it had been so for a while.
He sat up and his eyes widened. He was wearing a nightshirt. Not just any nightshirt but one of the floor-length, hideous gray ones he used to favor before Harry convinced him it was better to come to bed skyclad. He had been glad to dispose of them, loving the feel of Harry’s flesh molded to his. So why was he wearing this old-fashioned monstrosity?
The nightshirt wasn’t the only thing that was out of place. There were no signs of Harry’s things scattered on the floor. The brat was messy to a fault. But it was endearing to see the comfortable signs of his co-habitation, though Severus would never say so out loud. While he carped about Harry’s messy habits, this was something about him he never wanted to change…well, not much.
But there was no disorder here. “Here” was also not right. These were not their quarters. Oh, he recognized them, all right – his old dungeon rooms where he’d spent many a lonely night while longing for that Slytherin Potter to come and warm his sheets. He had been relieved beyond all measure when Lily had given her consent for him to court her only son. It had been all the excuse he needed to move from his bachelor quarters into a more ample space.
Yet here he was again. How had this happened?
“Harry?” There was no answer, only dismal silence. Instinctively, he knew his beloved was nowhere on the premises but, methodical as he was, he had to be certain.
Several minutes later, he had to concede defeat. Not only was Harry not here, there was no sign of his presence. No photo albums, none of his books, no toothbrush, no clothes, no shoes, no shampoo that smelled like cedar wood – no Harry. The bed sheets held no trace of his odor, the scent of which Severus had inhaled unashamedly whenever he knew his fiancé wasn’t around to see.
He also couldn’t find his gold hand-fasting ring and that was the most worrying of his losses. He’d tried Summoning it and then searching in his nightstand and everywhere it could be. The ring, the symbol of his love for Harry, was missing.
Severus dressed quickly, frowning to see the return of his black jacket and trousers. Harry had complained often of the time it took to unfasten his jacket with its many buttons and Severus himself had grown weary of having the buttons popped off whenever they were too eager to undress in a leisurely fashion. He had had no problem conforming to tradition and happily donned the more accessible robes. So the return of the many-buttoned jacket was an additional irritant on top of the unusual sterility of these rooms.
His wand was in the right place, tucked under his pillow. That, at least, hadn’t changed and he breathed a sigh of relief as he tucked it away into his sleeve. Thus armed and fortified, he stepped out of his quarters and prepared to seek some answers.
He would go to Lily. She would know what had happened with Harry. Next to Severus, she was the most important person in Harry’s life. She’d be able to fill him in on whatever had occurred in the last few hours.
__________
While he strode to the Great Hall, his mind feverishly churned over various possibilities and scenarios.
Had Harry been called away on an emergency? That didn’t seem likely. Even if he had, he would have roused Severus first or left a note. Simply vanishing wasn’t like him, not when he knew how Severus would worry. And that wouldn’t explain why Severus was in his old rooms with no sign that Harry had ever lived there.
What of the previous night’s events? Severus remembered perfectly well what had happened. He and Harry had come in from the Three Broomsticks. No matter how good the food was at Hogwarts, eating there on a daily basis was a dead bore.
Besides, it did them good to get away from Harry’s mother once in a while. The woman had the awful habit of beaming sappily whenever she saw them so much as kiss. He’d caught her snapping pictures of him and his intended in a couple of inappropriate circumstances – and was certain there were times when he hadn’t caught her. The redheaded minx should have been sorted into Slytherin with him. She was that devious.
It still wouldn’t explain the circumstances of his change in living quarters. Had Harry gotten angry with him over his wish to be wedded quickly and banished Severus for his refusal to hurry the process? Even if he had, he couldn’t have lifted Severus and transported him and all his possessions without alerting his former Potions master.
He would find Harry and if not his fiancé then Lily Potter. She knew her son extremely well. If Harry had run off, for whatever reason, she would know where and why.
__________
He marched into the Great Hall and stopped dead.
The tables of certain houses were more than half empty. While Slytherin House was decently represented – indeed, the table appeared to be bursting with more than the usual amount of children – all the others appeared to have suffered considerable depletion.
His eye ran over his house, searching for that familiar tousled head of hair, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his jaw nearly dropped on seeing Pansy Parkinson seated next to –
“Draco Malfoy?! What are you doing here?”
Silver blond eyebrows lifted. “Where else should I be seated, Headmaster?”
“Headmaster?” What was the boy playing at? Severus’s astonishment at seeing him here when he was supposed to be in the Balkans studying at Durmstrang was almost derailed at the use of that title.
Belatedly, he became aware that other students were staring at him. He swung around to the other tables in time to see several students pale and duck their heads back to their breakfasts. As he strode down the aisle to the Head Table, he witnessed each student he passed flinch and cower, their heads firmly tucked down as though they feared attracting his attention.
Just what the hell was going on? Draco here and giving him the typical cocky Malfoy attitude was one thing. But the other children acted like they expected him to whip out his wand and pronounce the Killing Curse on them all.
His eye flicked over to the Headmaster’s chair. Dumbledore was not there and Severus would have given anything to see him in another of his outlandish robes. The Headmaster was an old man but he had the spry agility and health of a man a fraction of his age. He was never late to the Great Hall, much less absent. Why wasn’t he here?
In near desperation now, he scanned the Head table, looking for Lily. The red-headed Charms Professor was not in her place. Instead, he saw the head of a diminutive dwarf seated in her chair. He blinked, unable to hide his bewilderment. “Flitwick? What in Merlin’s name –? You’re supposed to be retired!”
The dwarf stared at him. Harsh lines puckered the usual cheery face into a grim frown. “Retired? That your idea of a joke, Headmaster? You know very well it’s here or Azkaban. This must be some kind of Death Eater humor I don’t get,” he finished, muttering.
Death Eater? His stomach dropped at the sound of that dreadful title. No one had called him that in years. Flitwick was staring at him in unconcealed hatred as well, his hostility as baffling as the children’s mortal terror.
He didn’t understand it. He and the dwarf weren’t exactly drinking mates. But he had gotten on well enough with him when he was a student at Hogwarts.
Why was Flitwick back at the school? Why was he sitting in Lily’s chair?
His eyes swept the Head Table and he stiffened in anger. An obscenely fat man he’d never seen before was in his chair. The whale had been in the process of eating a sausage, apparently. It hung from his fork, unheeded, the instrument suspended between the plate and his gaping mouth. His watery eyes were fixed on Severus with a combination of fawning and nervousness.
“Hello, Headmaster. How are you this morning?” he burbled in a mock jovial tone. Then he crunched into the sausage and returned to his meal.
Severus wondered who the blazes this man was and what he was doing planted in his place. And he’d called him Headmaster as well. Either a prank in extremely poor taste was being perpetrated on him, one worthy of those damned Slytherin Weasley twins, or something had gone very wrong with his world between the time he’d bedded down with his beloved and woken up in the wrong bed.
Two people who’d had their heads bent together in furious whispered conversation now parted and turned to him. The sense of wrongness that had afflicted him all morning rose to shrieking alarm.
The Carrows were there, squeezed together to occupy the place normally taken by whomever was in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He remembered them very well. As two of the former dreaded Dark Lord’s Death Eaters, they had been particularly dim-witted and officious minions. They were brutes, the pair of them, the kind of magic abusers sorted into Slytherin because of a lust for power rather than any real ability to seize it.
They had been among the first Death Eaters caught by the Aurors, seized during a botched attack on a Mudblood family. Their capture (orchestrated by himself) had been so easy the Dark Lord had had no problem believing they’d been caught simply because of their own ineptitude rather than internal sabotage.
What in all hells were they doing here, looking so smug and chummy? Amycus was giving him a toothy smirk, one so unctuous Severus was surprised it didn’t slide off his piggy face. His sister Alecto seemed less pleased to see him but she produced a tight smile for him nonetheless.
“Headmaster,” Amycus crooned. “Welcome to breakfast. Please sit yourself down,” and he gestured towards the empty seat.
This was no longer a joke. Even the pestiferous Fred and George couldn’t have gone this far to amuse themselves at his expense and they were no longer in Hogwarts in any case.
The smiles on the faces of the Carrows were giving way to perplexed frowns. The whispers from the students were rising too.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to take his place. Bowing to the inevitable, not wanting to alert whomever was responsible for this fraud, Severus swept to the Headmaster’s chair. Without looking at anyone, he lowered himself into the seat. Lightning did not strike and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Professor McGonagall clenched her fists beneath the table and ever so subtly shifted away from him. A glance at her averted profile showed a white taut face, two blotches of red staining her cheeks, and lips pressed tight with repressed fury. Her clear if unspoken distaste was even more terrible than Flitwick’s blunt anger. He always had considered Minerva a close friend and colleague. What could he have done to merit her scorn?
Amycus cleared his throat ostentatiously. “Oh, Headmaster? I believe you were going to make an announcement to the students this morning.”
He was? Oh Merlin. He felt like an actor who’d stumbled into a play with no idea of his role or his lines and only the barest knowledge of the other characters and the storyline. Something was expected of him and if Death Eaters were involved it wouldn’t do to let them know he had no clue as to what would happen next.
His hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. “Have you reconsidered, Severus?” McGonagall asked. He looked at her to see the antagonism she’d manifested giving way to a desperate plea. “You know this is a foolish idea. Albus – ”
Amycus glared. “Your time here is done, you old besom, just like that of the stupid candy-sucking blowhard,” he spat. “Don’t forget you live solely at the Dark Lord’s whim. Don’t try his mercy too far.”
“His mercy?” McGonagall’s voice rose in furious disbelief, attracting the attention of the nearest students.
The Dark Lord? Amycus spoke of him as though he was alive and well… and his sneering dismissal of Dumbledore just now was shocking indeed. The white-hot terror of earlier coalesced into a leaden pool of dread in this stomach.
He held up his hand to forestall them before they escalated into an argument and upset the children further. He had to stall, keep these Death Eaters from figuring out that anything was wrong, while learning all he could about this strange twisted universe he’d unwittingly landed in.
“I’m sure I had a great many things to announce to the students,” he drawled in bored tones. “What in particular was occupying your mind, Amycus?”
Amycus evidently saw nothing strange in his request. “Why, the Dark Lord’s decree that the children be taught the Dark Arts, of course. My sister and me will be heading that particular class, as per his instructions.” This time Alecto’s smile was as wide as her brother’s, both of them looking like particularly nasty cats about to swallow a whole cage full of canaries.
No no no no no. This was sheer madness, beyond folly. Albus would never have agreed… But Albus wasn’t here and Severus apparently was expected to condone this terrible course. “Very well, Amycus.” He lifted his voice slightly so the whole room could hear.
“Students, you will be pleased to know that the heretofore forbidden Dark Arts will now be made accessible to you all. The estimable – ” he barely kept himself from choking on the word – “Carrows will be your teachers in this subject. Naturally, they will do their best to teach you without causing any undue injuries. I’m sure the Dark Lord would not care to have those tutored in his favorite subject needlessly hurt.” This last was directed towards the Carrows with a suitable glare on his part. Their grins dimmed to uneasy quavers.
The children of Slytherin House cheered. The other houses looked far more subdued – make that terrified. Merlin, what had he let these poor children in for?
McGonagall had resumed her furious silence. In her lowered eyes, he thought he detected an unusual brightness. However, she did not cry and he silently praised her fortitude. Whatever had gone wrong, he was going to need her strength to carry him through it.
However, before he could speak to her, she straightened and set her utensils down with rigid formality. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and prepare for my class. Headmaster.” She gave him a stiff nod and swept from the table with the regality of an affronted queen.
It seemed there was no help to be expected from that quarter, at least not at this moment. Severus forced down his meal though it could have been grindylow droppings for all the attention he paid to it. The Carrows had resumed their excited witless chatter. He didn’t care to listen but his long-ago habits of a spy caused him to keep one ear trained on their conversation while appearing to focus on his meal.
Every other whispered word seemed to be about Voldemort and his plans for the brave new world he was creating. The monster himself was nowhere to be found, keeping himself hidden to foster terror in the populace, but his plans were in full swing.
He had taken over the Ministry, after ordering the death of the previous Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour. Severus kept his face impassive as he tried to remember him. A former Auror, he was known for his no-nonsense attitude and tough stance on criminals. He had apparently taken over from Cornelius Fudge.
Dumbledore had never been impressed with Fudge’s feeble attempts to hold power and neither had Severus. But, if the man had done little good, he’d done little harm. Now he was gone, Scrimgeour was dead and the Ministry and Hogwarts were in the hands of Death Eaters.
“So where’s the Dark Lord now?” Alecto fretted.
“You know very well. He’s after the Potter boy,” Amycus muttered. “And no one knows where he could be.”
Alecto groused, “I still don’t see why Potter’s such a threat. Rumor has it he was a piss-poor student. I’ll bet he knows next to nothing about the Dark Arts. Our Lord shouldn’t worry about him.”
“You want to tell him that, Alecto? It’s not up to you to decide what the Dark Lord does or don’t do. He’s made it clear that once Potter is gone, the rest of us can breathe easy.”
They continued to chatter but now all their attention was turned towards the upcoming classes. Severus barely kept himself from grabbing the two of them by the throats and demanding answers.
The Dark Lord had ascended again although the how and why of that was left unanswered. The Ministry had fallen. Albus Dumbledore was absent. And, for some inexplicable reason, Voldemort was after his Harry, which explained his beloved’s absence from Hogwarts.
Why? What had Harry done to draw the attention of that twisted maniac? He was only an adolescent, for Merlin’s sake!
If only Albus were here, he would be able to answer these questions; Severus was sure of it. Perhaps the ancient wizard was on the run with Harry and Severus as Head of Slytherin House had been made headmaster in his absence. By that deduction, that fat walrus, whoever he was, must now be in charge of Potions. But he needed more information than what could be gleaned from a few strands of conversation.
If he was Headmaster, he should be able to get into Albus’s room. While he inwardly quailed at invading the man’s sanctum sanctorum, he knew that it was necessary. Hopefully, he’d get some clue as to what had caused this debacle and what his role was in it.
As soon as decently possible, he got up from the table and made his way to the Headmaster’s quarters. If Albus wasn’t there, there might be clues as to his whereabouts or he could question the portraits. Those painted effigies were the eyes and ears of Hogwarts. They heard and saw everything that went on in these hallowed halls. Buoyed by this thought, he hurried his pace and stared at the gargoyle guarding the stairs.
In his heart, he’d hoped it wouldn’t work. But the stonework responded to the mute command and ground open, revealing the stairwell leading to the upper chambers. His shoulders sagging, he stepped on the stairs and waited for them to carry him to his destination.
Any hopes he had were shattered when the saw the room. There was no sign of Dumbledore and Fawkes was gone. There was no way that bird with its ostentatious Gryffindor colors would be absent if its master were anywhere on the premises.
As he leaned against the door, staring gloomily at the empty perch, he heard, “Severus, dear boy. Are you all right? You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
“Albus! Albus, where are you?” he cried out with relief. He swung around, looking for the source of that familiar voice.
“I’m right where you left me, Severus.” Looking at the wall where the sound was coming form, Severus froze to see a portrait of Dumbledore smiling gently at him.
“Tell me, Severus. Did you wish upon that star?”

TBC
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Onward into the Breach