Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Love is Cold	By : CruelHero Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 9167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with the Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
Author's Note: I know it has been forever and a day since my last update, and I know that most people will have given up waiting for one, if there was anyone waiting at all, but here it is. Please forgive me. Bad things happened. And when they were not happening I was busy writing out twenty different senrioes that did not fit. So I deleted them all and finally, finally, I am satasfied. Or as satasfied as I am going to get. I don't like my writing style. Yet, I can't seem to change it. I hope I am progressing at least. Anyway, maybe now I can move a great deal faster to conclude the story. On the side, I've written several other stories, all of them just about four chapters in. I hope to get them uploaded soon. I want to review first.
Also, I have given up rewriting the previous chapters. I won't get anywhere if I don't stop that. I hate them, but maybe you guys out there won't mind them so much. Please R&R, it truly keeps me going when I have no will left.
~E
-See important side note at the end of the chapter.-
***** Chapter 10: Part 2

The entire way home and all while he cleaned his wounds, Harry thought of nothing but his test potions and the next set of steps he should take with each one. The process kept his mind off of his pain and gave him something to justify the price he may well have paid this time around.
It wasn't until he stumbled blindly to his bed and laid his naked, battered body down on sheets of silken heaven that he let himself wonder if going to such an extent for an ingredient, that may or may not work, was really the product of guilt. He asked himself if he would do it again, knowing it could cost him one of his eyes.
Each time he pondered this, he grew more and more concerned, because in his heart he knew the answer would never be anything but yes. Which led him to question exactly how deep his guilt ran.
Did this devotion he possessed stem from something else- something...more profound?
In truth, if Harry thought on his past actions concerning Severus Snape at all, logic seemed to be absent from every choice he made. But the very idea of there being a 'something more' threatened to tear down every step up he'd built since the war. His understanding of who he was, of what was happening to him, suddenly seemed like a poorly constructed lie. And if he fell asleep that night with uncertainty hacking away at denial, only to wake in the morning with limbs glued to stiffened fabric by frost and two very strange protrusions on his forehead, well then, that was perfectly all right.
Wasn't it?
*****
The break of dawn found Severus in the same place he had been every night since Harry revealed his illness to him. He did not sleep. He did not take breaks. In fact, he barely found the time to blink. Every spare second of his day was spent devoted on his search for answers; for links to curses and cures, and psychological issues that might explain Harry's icy skin. Or why his once mesmerizing verdant eyes were tainted by glittering shades of blue.
Hundreds of pages flipped before his eyes. Useless words scrolled around his head, all while he plucked out blocks of writing from their layers for later study. Books circled him in gyroscopic motion; above him, behind him, and in front. He moved them around, discarding and adding to them with an angry wave of his hand.
For all his effort, he gained nothing.
Severus was, by no means, ready to admit defeat, but Merlin his blood had started to boil and he'd had quite enough of feeling like a failure yet again. Besides, he told himself, attempting to quiet the gathering rage, the sun was steady rising and he had other obligations that required tending.
Severus lowered his head.
The books all fell at once, thumping against the bare floor in tandem. He left them all where they lay, crossing from one end of his quarters to the other. Each step away somehow only managed to add to his frustrations and by the time he reached his washroom, destruction ruled in his heart.
The first thing he lay eyes upon burst apart from the inside out, splattering the floor and walls with globs of its soiled contents.
The doors of his medicine cabinet flung open so forcefully they fell apart at the seams. Severus took vials off the shelves, clenching them so tightly the glass splintered and cracked, shattering in his hands and gouging his palms with thousands of tiny shards.
The weeping potions stung his cuts, but he could not feel it.
Bright-red blood dripped to his feet, but he could not see it.
Severus knew only his anger, only the call of mayhem pulsing through his veins.
He smashed the remaining pieces on the floor, drunk on the adrenalin that flooded through his veins. In a feverish haste, Severus hurled another bottle. Then another. And another. He kept going until every item in sight was no longer recognizable from the next.
It wasn't enough.
Severus needed more. More violence. More wreckage.
All too aware of his crazed state, Severus took up his wand. He roared his magic from it, singeing the room black with ash in a reign of relentless energy. Water poured up from the floor, from cracks and broken pipes. The very walls crumpled in on themselves, sending up a cloud of whirling dust to coat him in filth. And the lights flickered out, leaving him in darkness.
So Severus broke those too.
He stood at the center of it, chest heaving, heart pounding, the strumming of his magic, a rushing of water and clatter of tumbling stone, all bashing against his senses. So much so, that the air itself cringed with a wild static. And the lightning that could only be seen within his bright, black eyes cracked and rolled from his fingertips, its power stampeding over the flooded room, disintegrating the door.
Only then was it enough.
Severus exhaled. At last his anger flowed away, soon after turning to bitter despair. As it always did.
He never was prepared for it.
Suddenly overwhelmed, he sank down to the rubble, taking a seat on broken stones. He cradled his head with clenched hands, tense shoulders sagging under the weight of his soaked, black robes. The broken pipes continued to sing their downpour. Slick, ebony locks clung to his forehead, his cheeks, his hands, his wrists. Twisted strands. Like ropes around his neck. Like memories. Of failures past and present, and the horrors that haunted these desperate, lonely moments.
Severus shook his head and wondered. Was his Harry doomed; and he the one that set that doom, of cat-and-mouse-games played with death since birth?
There was a time once, when Severus had thought that giving his life for Harry would end this misery.
Clearly, he had been wrong.
The deep ache set within his bones rose up again. He could never rid himself of it for long. Coming to a stand among the rubble, Severus glanced around him. Slim rays of firelight poured through the battered doorway, illuminating the barest outline of the room. How many times had he done this before? How many times had he repaired everything, never feeling any satisfaction for the trouble?
Hundreds. Thousands. He'd lost count so long ago.
With a halfhearted flick of his hand, Severus set the room back to order. As if nothing had happened, he sloughed off his wet clothes, turning to the newly repaired mirror where he gazed at the naked flesh of his reflection under the warm lights.
Jutting bones. Pale and jagged scars. His body was the perfect story of war- the war he helped create.
Raising his wand again, Severus cleaved another notch from his skin, another memory for the story that was yet to be concluded.
Blood roll from his chest in a steady stream. He watched it, still not satisfied.
When the stain reached his groin, he turned away.
*****
Side Note: There has been some debate on the last chapter feeling like it didn't belong. I am sorry about that. I left off at a bad place. But I that now will feel different. Also, I did mention Harry's cold issue twice in that chapter. I guess it was to brief a sentence to make an impression. Again I am sorry. I'm not as good at this as I had hoped.
Thanks for reading. 'Till we meet again.
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Love is Cold