Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Onward into the Breach	By : QueenB Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 8398 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- 3
It couldn’t be. Albus’s portrait couldn’t be here. There was one way and one way only that a Headmaster’s painted form appeared on the Hogwarts walls.
He reached out a trembling hand towards the portrait but could not bring himself to touch it. “Albus?”
The long-haired wizard frowned just a little. “Severus? Are you feeling quite well?” He tut-tutted. “You shouldn’t have had that scotch. I told you not to drink so much.”
“Scotch?” What was Albus talking about? All the other portraits were staring at him, seemingly more curious about Severus’s horror than the fact that the rightful Headmaster of Hogwarts was as dead as they.
Tears rose to Severus’s eyes and he let out an inadvertent sob. “Albus, by Merlin. How did this happen to you?”
Furry eyebrows rose. “How did what happen to me, Severus? Do I have a stain on my robes or something?”
All at once he was shouting…at whom or what, he didn’t know. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL? ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD AND YOU ALL STARE AT ME LIKE WITLESS SHEEP! ARE YOU INSANE? WHAT IN BLAZES IS HAPPENING HERE?!?”
A voice in the corner made tsking noises surprisingly similar to Dumbledore’s. “Now, is this any way to behave on your first week as Headmaster? We are Slytherins, Snape. You mustn’t give way so easily. It’s unbecoming. Think of the reputation of your house.”
Severus stared about wildly until he met the disapproving gaze of Phineas Nigellus Black. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he snapped. He swung back to Dumbledore’s painting. “I want to know how it is that you are dead, Albus, and I didn’t know about it. I want to know why the bloody Carrows are sitting at the Head Table like they own it and I want to know where my fiancé is!”
Albus stared at him. “Severus, if anything is wrong, I think it’s with you not us. I’ve been dead for some time. In fact, I was in rather poor health before I was sent off the Tower.”
“Sent off the Tower?” Severus felt an unaccustomed rage welling up inside him. “You were murdered then! Who did it? Tell me, Albus. The Carrows say the Dark Lord is alive. Was it he? If he’s in any way responsible, I will have his head!” he snarled. Without realizing it, he had whipped out his wand, his fingers white, the wood nearly creaking from his vicious grip.
There was a long silence. Some of the pictures looked startled; others deeply worried. Most were staring as if they didn’t know what to make of Severus at all.
Dumbledore stared at him with overwhelming confusion, far more so than a mere portrait should have been capable. “Perhaps you’d better sit down and tell me exactly what is troubling you today. When I spoke to you last night, you were bitter about the situation you found yourself in but there wasn’t this confusion or panic.”
Severus never had been able to resist Dumbledore when he spoke in that caring way. Even from beyond the grave, the old man was striving to look out for him.
But he was all too aware of the portraits hanging on his every word. Suddenly he couldn’t stand the thought of airing his thoughts before these painted effigies. “Albus, I would prefer that we speak somewhere in private.”
“Ever the cautious soul, I see,” Dumbledore said, with a hint of his usual sparkle. “Very well. Come to your private chambers where we can discuss this.” He nodded his head towards the Headmaster’s personal quarters and walked past the frame of his portrait, disappearing from view.
More than a little numb now that the initial shock had worn off, Severus followed him. His heart was thudding in panic but outwardly he had resumed his usual calm. Albus was a wizard he had always respected. If there were foul work afoot, the old man would help sort out the mess and find a solution.
There was another, larger, portrait of Albus in his quarters, the ones set aside strictly for the Headmaster. Something in Severus cringed when he saw them outfitted in green and silver, the typical Slytherin colors. They proclaimed, louder than words, who was the rightful occupant here.
Albus sat down in the comfy chair in his portrait. “Now, Severus, perhaps you’d like to start.”
“I went to sleep next to my fiancé – Harry,” he clarified when the portrait arched its eyebrows.
“Fiancé? Harry?” In all the years he’d known Dumbledore, Severus had never seen the old man surprised by anything. But the owlish blinking behind the half-moon spectacles could indicate nothing else.
“Severus, that is not possible. Why would you say something like that?” Dumbledore asked. His surprise was turning to anxiety, the blue eyes roving over Severus like he was checking him for lint.
“Not possible? We’ve been courting for a year. We’ve been hand-fasted for almost as long as that! Albus, you were at the ceremony…” His voice trailed away.
The wizard’s portrait wore a very troubled expression. “Severus, something is definitely wrong here. You and young Harry…” He hesitated. “You are not hand-fasted, now or ever.”
Severus shook his head and began pacing. “I told you, Albus. I went to bed last night next to Harry.”
“I believe this story needs a great deal more…background than what occurred in the previous night,” Dumbledore said. He steepled his long fingers together. “Perhaps you’d like to begin from when you and Harry were first…involved.”
“It started when he turned 16. Nothing untoward happened. I’m not one to molest the underage. But we were much thrown together when I went to visit his mother after his father died. I watched Harry grow up from a small somewhat awkward little boy to a man who had his mother’s eyes and her astounding abilities to brew. In spite of being in Slytherin House, he made friends so easily with everyone – and he opened his heart to me, Albus. I’ve been so very happy with him.”
Severus closed his eyes, smiling faintly as he remembered Harry’s increasing interest in him as the boy grew older. The heat of his green-eyed gaze was followed by tentative, fleeting touches until they’d found themselves sharing a fervent kiss in a secluded room in Sirius’s gloomy mansion. It was after that heated embrace that Severus had approached Lily with a formal request to court her son. His joy had been beyond expression when she had graciously agreed.
It had been agony to hold off on sexual congress until Harry turned 17. Until then, they had done everything propriety had allowed – and skirted the edges of statutory rape more than once. The day Harry had reached the age of maturity, there had been a party filled with Harry’s school chums, Severus’s colleagues and numerous well-wishers. Severus had borne it as long as was decently possible…which had proved to be no longer than half an hour. Then he had whisked Harry to a hidden isle far away from snooping eyes where they had proceeded to shag each other’s brains out.
He grinned at the shenanigans they had gotten up to, strolling around naked on that paradisiacal isle so they could fall down and screw whenever the mood hit them – which had been quite often. Then again, they’d had a lot of time to make up for, hadn’t they?
He opened his eyes from the happy memories to see Albus gazing at him in an attitude of shock. “What? What is it?”
“Severus…are you…were you…smiling?”
“Yes, I suppose I was.” Why was the old man staring at him like that?
“You truly aren’t the Severus I know. You never smile, at least not with such joyful abandon. You have the grimmest outlook of any man I’ve ever met. You smirk. You sneer. You grin most unpleasantly when you’ve managed to belittle some poor Gryffindor. But you never smile. Your years as a Death Eater were enough to rob you of any joy you had left in the world. I regret that I had some part in that.”
The leaden feeling was back in his stomach. “But I’m not a Death Eater any longer, not since the Dark Lord was destroyed in 1981.” He spread his hands helplessly. “Albus…what is going on here?”
The portrait hadn’t taken its eyes off him. All at once, it looked like that of another man, one much older and far wearier than the Dumbledore he knew. “Severus, whatever disaster has occurred, it couldn’t have come at a worse time.” He gestured at an overstuffed chair next to Severus’s desk. “You’d better sit down.”
__________
Coaxed to elaborate about his side of the story, Severus spoke quickly but evenly, omitting no facts. When Albus stopped him and asked to clarify a point, he did so with all the restraint he could muster. He was glad to have the safety of speech. Relating his life seemed to have a steadying effect.
He told how James Potter had died in a wand fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He’d met the demented Tom Riddle on the battlefield and cast the Killing curse at the same time as the deadly Dark wizard. Neither one of them had missed.
Severus had been a frequent companion to Lily Potter in his efforts to console her over the death of her husband. Then, as little Harry grew up, he had stayed by her side for a different reason. The Potions master and the younger Slytherin had had a yearlong courtship and were in the midst of the traditional hand-fasting.
“Then I woke up here,” he finished. “So, Albus, tell me. Where is Lily? Why is Harry not here? How has the Dark Lord risen again? He was well and truly dead when I saw him. I supervised the cremation of the corpse myself.”
The portrait remained silent for a considerable while. Its blue eyes assessed him as though probing his soul. Finally, it seemed to come to a decision.
“Severus, in this world, Voldemort learned how to create magical containers called Horcruxes.”
“Horcruxes?” he frowned.
The picture adjusted its spectacles. “Before he died for the first time, he managed to split his soul six times and stored the shards into various different objects. Because of this, he did not die completely. He drifted along, little better than a malevolent spirit, until he encountered an unfortunate whom he managed to possess. That man, Professor Quirrell…”
“Who?”
“You don’t know of him? He was appointed Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts in Harry’s first year of Hogwarts. His tenure proved an extremely short one. During one fearful night, he killed a unicorn and drank its blood.”
“He drank unicorn’s blood?” Severus asked, aghast. “Was he insane? Whoever kills a unicorn and drinks its blood is doomed to a cursed existence. He acquires nothing more than a wretched half-life! No one in their right mind would do it!”
“Ah, but Quirrell wasn’t in his right mind, Severus. Voldemort was imposing his personality on poor Quirrell, more or less forcing him to do his bidding. The unicorn blood was a stopgap measure, meant to hold Voldemort from true death just until he could use the Sorcerer’s Stone.”
The Sorcerer’s Stone? He’d heard of that, at least. Nicholas Flamel was supposed to have invented it. But its creation was fiendishly difficult, with such a severe threat to life and limb only the desperate, mad or genius attempted it.
In the magical world anything was possible, it seemed, including these baffling Horcruxes. Severus searched his memory. He had learned a great deal about the Dark Arts; forewarned was forearmed when dealing with a dangerous entity like the Dark Lord. But he’d never heard of Horcruxes.
He was aware that Dumbledore had stopped talking and prodded him. “Did he get the Sorcerer’s Stone? Is that why he’s back?”
Dumbledore gave a slight smile. “No. Young Harry stopped him quite handily in his first year here at Hogwarts. Quirrell died in that encounter and Voldemort’s essence was once more scattered.”
“Harry faced him? In his first year? Albus, that’s nonsense. Harry would have been only 11 years old!” Severus cried, appalled at this revelation. “He couldn’t have been strong enough to fight a wizard like You-Know-Who. The monster killed James and he was one of the most accomplished wizards alive!”
“Voldemort was considerably weakened by his death and hampered by his imprisonment in Quirrell’s flesh. Quirrell could not touch Harry while Voldemort used him because Harry was protected by very old and powerful magic, magic the Dark Lord didn’t understand and gravely underestimated.”
“What magic was that?”
The shadow of sorrow over the portrait grew very heavy. “His mother’s love. She died to protect Harry and it invoked the ancient magic. That is what caused Voldemort’s first demise.”
“Lily…is dead?” It couldn’t be true. Albus’s death was bad enough. To learn his dearest childhood friend was gone and because of that beast… He couldn’t stand it. He dropped his head in his hands as tears threatened to overwhelm him.
“She and James both. I confess I was partially responsible for their deaths.” Dumbledore seemed to shrink into his chair as he spoke.
Severus lifted his head to stare at Albus. “You, Albus? I don’t believe it. How could you…?”
The portrait refused to meet his gaze. “James had an Invisibility Cloak.”
Severus nodded, choking back his grief. “I know. He sometimes let me borrow it during my years as a spy. It proved very useful on more than one occasion.”
The bushy eyebrows shot up nearly to Dumbledore’s hairline. “Goodness. Are you telling me you and James were friends?”
“Matters were a little tense between us in the beginning. He wasn’t sure he could trust a Slytherin. However, James was smitten with Lily almost from the moment he saw her. She insisted that he had to be friends with me if he wanted to spend any time with her. Otherwise, he could go jump in the lake. He strove hard to win my trust and we eventually sorted things out between us.”
“My dear boy. I’m so glad to know you settled your differences with James, at least in your world. That’s what makes this so difficult.”
“Makes what so difficult?” What could be worse than learning about the deaths of two people he’d once held so dear?
“I was curious about the Cloak. I asked James to borrow it. He trusted me and gave it. When Voldemort came to Godric’s Hollow, poor James and Lily were defenseless. The Cloak would have saved them both…had I not taken it from him.”
This was devastating news indeed. No wonder the portrait sounded so forlorn. Severus wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the old man. But it was no longer possible. The chasm between them was as short as a yard and long as eternity.
He thought about the rest of what Albus had told him. “Why did the Dark Lord go to Godric’s Hollow in the first place? In my world, he died on the battlefield.”
“He had learned of a prophecy that predicted a child born on the last day of July would defeat him. In spite of his Horcruxes, Voldemort believed this prophecy and decided that the infant Harry was a threat. He went after him. The rest of the story is as I told you.”
Severus shook his head in dismissal. “Divination is nonsense, Albus. Most of it is merely the clever reading of other people’s body language and facial expressions, resulting in vague predictions and guesswork. I can’t believe that the Dark Lord would give it any credence.”
“In the Ministry of Magic, there is a room filled with crystals that yield up predictions only for the person for whom they are intended. Such prophecies are not to be taken for granted. And this one came true. Harry was responsible for Voldemort’s first death when he was a mere babe. In the years since then, he has encountered the Dark Lord on at least three separate occasions and defeated him handily or escaped. Voldemort knows not to underestimate him now.”
A chill fell over Severus. “Albus, where is Harry now? Is he safe? I know the Dark Lord is searching for him. The Carrows said as much.”
“They are not quite correct. Harry is a concern for him, yes. But right now Voldemort is chiefly concerned with keeping a low profile. He deems it easier to cow the populace if no one quite knows where he is.”
“And what is Harry doing all this while?”
“He is safe for the time being, Severus. He knows the role he has to play. When the time comes, he will not shirk his task.”
Severus’s fists clenched so hard he could feel the nails biting into his palms. “Dammit, Albus. You’re not keeping me out of the loop.” His mind raced. “Harry is searching out the missing Horcruxes, isn’t he?” he hazarded, searching the portrait’s facial features for clues.
Albus shook his head, his expression mild. “That’s not your concern.”
Severus sprang to his feet. “Are you joking? Didn’t you hear what I said? Harry and I are hand-fasted! I should be out there with him, not playing nursemaid to a whole school of frightened children!”
“Harry is being kept safe by his friends. You are needed here.”
“Why? And why was I picked for this stellar position? Why not the Carrows or, better yet, Lucius Malfoy? I saw his son seated at the Slytherin table. Surely his father wouldn’t mind being able to wield power, even if it’s only over a bunch of students.”
“Voldemort placed you here as a gift. In this world, he values you very highly indeed, never having realized you were a spy for our side. He thought your installation here would be a fitting reward for your long years of service.”
“And his reward was that I be made Headmaster of Hogwarts? That’s ridiculous. Why not give me a seat in the Ministry of Magic?”
“While Voldemort does choose to rule over the Wizarding world, he cannot divide himself between the Ministry and Hogwarts. The next best thing is to have one of his favored reign here in his name.”
Severus struggled to make sense of this explanation. It seemed flimsy to him, suggesting that Dumbledore was omitting vital information. He cast about for another question to ask. “And your death, Albus. I became Headmaster after that. Who was it who killed you?’
“Young Malfoy…”
“Are you saying it was Draco?” Severus asked. “How could he? What is he even doing here? He’s supposed to be abroad in Durmstrang.”
Albus shook his head and adjusted his spectacles. “More discrepancies between the world you know and this one, I see. Lucius Malfoy claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse after Voldemort was killed in 1981. That claim and ample amounts of money given to the Ministry no doubt won him a pardon. He is very much free of prison at this moment, although unfortunately chained to Voldemort’s side. His son Draco has followed in his father’s footsteps.”
Severus’s shoulders slumped. Draco deserved a second chance and had received it in his world. What a shame to waste that bright young mind here. “By following in his father’s footsteps, you mean he’s become a Death Eater?”
“To his misfortune, yes. Young Draco was given an impossible task. After his induction into the ranks of Death Eaters, he had been instructed by Voldemort to kill me.”
“That coward.” Severus scowled. “Then what happened?’
“Draco proved unable to complete his task. The Killing Curse has to be meant and poor Draco has not the soul of a killer. While we talked, a group of Death Eaters, led by the Carrows, stormed up to the Astronomy Tower where we faced each other. At his hesitation, another Death Eater struck me down.”
“Who?”
“The night was dark, Severus, and the killer fled quickly. Besides, are you honestly telling me that it matters? I thought you were interested in what happened to Harry.”
“A concern you refuse to address. So where is Harry now?”
“Ah, that is not a question I can answer. I only know the events leading up to my death and the little I’ve been able to glean since arriving here in my portrait. Naturally, I don’t know what transpired after that.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. “That’s nonsense. How can you not know? You know everything and, what you don’t know, you soon find out.”
“I’m flattered by your belief in my omniscience,” the painting replied. “However, I’m not lying to you. Harry’s whereabouts at this moment are unknown to all but his closest friends.”
“But, Albus, he’s my fiancé! I must find him!”
“And how will you do this? You have obligations and responsibilities here. You are needed…”
He gritted out, “I am not needed here. This job was meant as a sinecure and you know it. I must find Harry.”
“Even if you knew where he was, would you abandon this school to the hands of the Carrows? To the other Death Eaters guarding the entrances and exits? To the dementors that lurk, hungry for souls to consume?”
“There are dementors here?”
“Voldemort has promised them souls to feed upon and innocents to drain of life and hope. They follow his bidding very eagerly indeed. So, yes, they are posted at the entryways to Hogwarts.”
Protest died on his lips. Albus was right as usual, damn him. Even if the Carrows were the biggest idiots alive, he couldn’t leave innocent children to suffer beneath their boot heels or from the terrifying specters they commanded.
Albus stared at him steadily. “Harry is in good hands. He has been trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts and he is accompanied by two able and loyal friends.”
“Little better than children themselves!” Severus scoffed.
“Harry is no child. You said so yourself, else you would not have hand-fasted with him.”
“But, Albus…he is my betrothed.” Severus was not ashamed that his voice broke on the word. “I cannot sit here idly and do nothing while he is in imminent danger.”
“You shall not be doing nothing. You will work here behind the scenes and I have my own spies who will watch for any sign of Harry. I have ways and means even Voldemort doesn’t know of.” A touch of Albus’s usual mischievous demeanor sparkled in his eyes.
Severus scrubbed his hand over his face. He’d been beset by more bad news in the last hour than he’d ever known in his entire life. His sweet, roguish Lily was dead and his beloved Harry was missing, the target of a newly revived and crazed wizard deadlier than Gellert Grindelwald.
Voldemort would come for Harry if what Albus said about a prophecy were true. He remembered enough of the Dark Lord to know the monster’s tenacity. Wherever Harry was hidden, he would not be safe for long.
Privately, he decided to find Harry and bring him to safety. Albus was dead and out of danger. His concern for the living could not be what Severus’s was and he was unconvinced by the portrait’s assertion that Harry’s life was secure. Severus would make his own plans and carry out his own schemes.
“So, Albus,” he said calmly, “what needs doing first?”
“I am certain you took care of this before the term started. But you might want to go to Madam Pomfrey and ascertain that her medicinal stores are liberally stocked. With the Carrows in charge of the Dark Arts classes…”
“I understand perfectly. I will see to it at once.” In spite of his warning, he was certain those brutes would provide no decent checks on the children. It was to be expected that the unguarded would suffer cruel injuries as a result. Best to be prepared for that sad eventuality.
Catching up a handful of floo powder, he went to his fireplace and called to a considerably disgruntled Pomfrey with his query about the Infirmary stores.

TBC
- 1
- 2
- 3
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

Onward into the Breach