• 1-A Most Trusted Soldier
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• 26-26
• 27-Author's Note: update
• 28-Still getting reviews...

A/N: Warning: angst, violence, author's blatant disregard for chronology and spelling shit out. Enjoy!

Luna stood just outside of the hospital wing, her hands slightly sweaty at the prospect of visiting her convalescing friend. It had been three days since hell had visited Diagon Alley and Luna was certain that the potions master was a little more than peeved at having not seen she or Harry in all that time. Taking a deep, centering breath, Luna pushed open the hospital wing doors, a quaint smile automatically appearing on her face as she laid eyes on her bed-ridden friend.

Severus was propped up by a small mountain of pillows, his face set in a deep scowl as he flipped angrily through a two-month old potion’s journal Madame Pomfrey had only just procured from Madame Pince. After he had nearly ripped her face off with boredom induced vitriol, not to mention the fact that he had been steadily chucking the pillows at her each time she refused to give him a straight answer, the mediwitch was so flustered she’d do just about anything to keep him occupied.

He had woken for the first time, briefly, two days ago, to find himself ensconced in a bed in the Hogwart’s hospital wing; his body weak as a newborn lamb’s and his right arm impaled with the longest, thickest needle he could ever recall seeing. He was disoriented, and for a brief, horrifying moment had feared that he was still a live-in professor at Hogwarts, felled by some nitwit student who had boggled a volatile potion, which would have been a logical explanation for his being in the school’s hospital wing. Then he remembered: foggy moments of consciousness, frantic shouting, Harry’s voice pleading. He remembered Luna, blood, and her helpless tears as she fought to reach out to him. His heart began to beat rapidly as he recalled Wood and all that had transpired. He had more questions that answers, and with a determination borne of love he attempted to get out of the bed, only to find himself easily restrained by the small hand of his former colleague, who told him how Harry had appeared at the front gates in a panic with Severus’ nearly lifeless body in his arms. Beyond that the mediwitch had remained maddeningly tight-lipped when Severus had asked questions, going so far as to become ludicrously generous with her sleeping spells and draughts, keeping him near comatose for two whole days.

Luna walked briskly through the ward towards Severus who was in the far most bed, the nearest to Pomfrey’s office.

“Keep turning those pages that way and that journal will start to bite,” Luna said softly, startling the brooding wizard.

Severus blinked expectantly at the younger woman, his heart thumping in joy at seeing her angelic face, happy and whole. The image was a needed relief from the one that had been implanted in his memory, of an injured, tearful, bloody Luna crying out desperately for him.

He lay the journal face down on his lap and reached out a hand to her, his arm moving of its own accord. Once her small, damp hand was tucked in his own, he drew her closer, making her sit next to him on the bed. For several minutes, they just sat there in the silence, looking at one another, unspoken words of compassion, gratitude and love readable in their misty eyes. Finally, Severus cleared his throat, hoping that Luna had not seen the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with nervousness.

“How…how are things? Out there?” Severus asked, still holding one of Luna’s dainty hands within his own, his thumb stroking across the soft skin on the back of her hand.

“Have you heard nothing?” Luna inquired, unease evident in her voice.

Severus shook his head and gazed narrowly towards the door to Madame Pomfrey’s office.

“Oh, I see,” Luna said, shoving her free hand into her robe pocket and producing a miniaturized copy of a newspaper.

“Madame Pomfrey felt the news—whatever it is— would hamper my recovery. Batty old matron wouldn’t even tell me the time, let alone let me see a newspaper or provide anything useful aside from a sleeping draught, which she has been forcing upon me constantly. Today is the first day I have been awake for more than an hour and I only managed that by threatening to break her wand if she pointed it at me one more time,” Severus explained, tapping the fingers of one hand irritably atop the bed sheet.

“How are you feeling?” Luna asked, her large blue eyes full of concern.

Severus let out a weak cough and looked away momentarily, deciding whether or not to divulge his medical prognosis. Yet, when he caught a second look at the earnest concern from the younger woman, his decision was made.

“It seems that the poison has done some rather serious damage to my heart. I am taking Heart-Ease and given time will heal. Pomfrey managed to clean my blood using a rather medieval device Muggles use on people who need something called dialysis. I am told that I’ll be out of here in a few more days, once my physical strength and appetite return. But my magic…” Severus faltered, his eyes lowering to stare at the stark white hospital sheet covering him, not wanting to see the predictable combination of guilt and pity in Luna’s eyes. He hated that sheet. Hated being covered by it and all that it represented.

“What about your magic?” Luna inquired, dipping her head a bit to catch Severus’ avoiding eyes.

Severus let out a ragged, irritated breath and just said, “Later. Alright?”

Once again silence pervaded the room, Luna clutching the shrunken newsprint agitatedly, while Severus gazed off at nothing.

“Things have been…well, a lot has happened, Severus,” Luna said, breaking the silence.

“How long has it been?”

Luna gave Severus a confused look, wondering why he would ask such a question. She feared for a moment that the poison had affected his memory, as not much time had passed at all.

“Three days. You…how can you not know the how long you’ve been here? Just what the hell happened?” Luna asked, the pitch of her voice rising.

“An overprotective mediwitch happened,” Severus replied dryly. “So…how is he?”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know at the moment, but I hear he is well.”

“What do you mean, hear? Hasn’t Harry…I mean, I assumed you and he were…had been together all this time,” Severus said, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Luna gave him a sad smile, shaking her head. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, no? You promised me,” Severus snapped.

Luna patted him on the thigh like he was some senile old person before withdrawing from his grasp and enlarging the newspaper and holding it out to Severus.

“Like I said, a lot has happened.”

Later that evening, long after Luna had departed, Severus lay on his back staring into the empty space above him, his eyes not even registering the movement of ethnically diverse cherubs Madame Pomfrey had conjured just for his amusement. He was in severe pain; so severe that his eyes kept leaking individual tears in erratic fashion.

Madame Pomfrey bustled in wearing her night robe, asking quietly if he wanted her to bring him a sleeping draught or a pain potion before she retired for the evening, her brow furrowed as she explained worriedly that she couldn’t imagine anything physical was causing his pain as he was nearly healed.

Severus just curled in on himself like a fetus and dismissed her with a sniff; not even blinking when the light in the ward went from a soothing dimness to nearly pitch black with darkness. He was in a pain no potion could touch, no compassion or motherly fussing could ease. Only the love and caress of his dom could take this pain away, but Severus was deeply doubtful that such comfort would ever be lavished upon him again.

He closed his eyes and sighed dejectedly, unwilling to even look at the crumpled newspaper that was now balled up atop the bedside table. How had things gotten so bad, so quickly? The newspaper had been decidedly diplomatic in its reporting of the events that had taken place two days ago. Even now, all these years later, the press was still enamored enough with the enigma of Harry Potter—their quintessential deliverer— that even reporting on a potentially criminal investigation involving the wizard carried an automatic slant in his favor. Severus couldn’t even be amused at the fact that they had called him Harry’s “longtime lover”, an expression that normally would have made his cock stiffen with pride and lust.

The Daily Prophet had recounted through dubious eye-witness accounts and opportunistic Ministry leaks, that Severus had been attacked by an as yet unidentified wizard while alone in his shop. They had thankfully not learned of Webster or Luna’s roles. The potions master suspected some heavy-handed work by the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio in keeping both his apprentice and Luna’s names out of the press. Then liberal conjecture masquerading as journalism had taken over, no doubt helped along by false information intentionally leaked to the press. It was a tried and true method of hiding the truth, as they had learned during the war. Refuse to go on record and anything you say to a reporter will be taken as gospel.

The story continued, telling in surprisingly vague detail how Harry had learned of the attack, came rushing heroically to his lover’s aid and had been forced to engage with the culprit, killing him in the fray. Then it rambled on a bit more about Harry and Severus’ relationship, the word “torrid” had been used, finally ending with the catch-all statement: “Sources inside the Ministry, speaking on condition of anonymity, would only say that at this time that Mr. Potter is being held by the Ministry while they investigate the incident, though they acknowledge that at this time the death of the culprit seems to have been justified under wizarding law.”

Once he had finished reading the paper, he looked at Luna expectantly; but expecting what he did not know. Yet, what he got by way of a highly factual and graphic retelling by Luna stunned him beyond all comprehension.

Lying there in his singular hospital bed, the covers tangled messily about his pale ankles, Severus thought back on the fall out conversation that resulted after he had heard Luna’s version of events occurring after he had passed out.

“I see” Severus said, staring down into the newsprint, his body rigid like a mannequin.

“No, you don’t. You see…” Luna replied softly, unsure what to make of this non-reaction by her friend.

“The concept of DEAD is hardly complex,” Severus snapped, cutting her off. “Precisely how it happened hardly matters.”

Luna pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring a bit. “It does when it happens in front of a crowd of 50 or more witches and wizards out for a lovely day of window shopping!”

Severus just stared at her unblinkingly, his mouth slightly agape, his coal black eyes large and glistening with unwept tears of frustration. Finally he lowered his eyes back to the rumpled newspaper. “I’m sorry.”

Luna reached out and patted him once more on a sheet-covered thigh, making him feel even more feeble and old.

Severus gave her a smile that came out as more of a grimace, then asked, “Will…” he gulped, fighting the get the words out. “Will he be sent to Azkaban?”

Luna let out a soft, wry chuckle, making Severus look at her with narrowed eyes.

“Just what is it you find so funny about the possibility that Harry might be imprisoned in Azkaban, or the heavens forbid, kissed?! They still kiss murderers you know. There is no law that protects one for killing their lover’s attacker after the fact.

“No, you’re right,” Luna replied soberly. “But there is a little busybody know-it-all named Hermione Granger-Weasley, who is at this very moment at appearing before the Wizengamot explaining not only Harry’s Amoral heritage, but also how a little known archaic law, enacted when the Elves still lived within our realm, allows for the absolute protection of a bonded mate, even to the point of death.”

Severus felt his adrenaline spike with hope only to be squelched when he realized that he did not fit the bill of a fully bonded mate.

“That law will be of little use, I am afraid,” he said, closing his eyes and laying his head back and sinking into the pillows. The world was just not fair. “Harry and I are not technically a bonded pair, not in any outwardly provable way anyhow.”

There was that damned wry chuckle from again.

“What IS so damned funny?!”

Luna just smirked and reached over to pull the sheet from his body, shoving a tiny, delicately boned hand underneath his hospital pajama top and pushing it up, revealing the embossed oak tree covering a good portion of his right side.

“You are now.”

His hand tracing lightly over the tree marking his flank, Severus recalled various tender moments shared between he and Harry. His heart filling painfully as he thought about the heady scent of his dom and the magnificent way Harry handled his body, making him docile and pliant, sweaty and sated, exhausted and happy. The tender way Harry stroked his hair in the middle of the night when he thought Severus was deep asleep. How they had grown from tentative, shy friends to passionate, inseparable lovers and loyal companions. The feeling of remembered joy and warmth dissipated as the reality of all that had transpired consumed his thoughts once more.

Severus felt ill. His stomach lurched as he thought of all the good reasons why Harry should never have another thing to do with him. How much grief had he brought upon his lover? Was Harry at this very moment sitting in some barren and dank Ministry cell, wishing to every deity known to man that he had never taken Severus into his home, his life, his heart? Even his love was a plague to those close to him.

His mind began to fixate on ways in which he could once again fix what he saw as his mistake. Harry was exposed, his heritage another oddity that would make the wizard even more of a spectacle; not to mention the fact that because of him Harry once again had blood on his hands. Severus felt that fate seemed on some vicious cycle, using him time and again in an attempt to destroy any possibility Harry had at leading a normal life. It had been he who overheard the prophecy that had eventually sent Voldemort on the path that led him to kill Lily and James; now it seems he was responsible for bringing disaster into his lover’s life all over again.

Severus planned several hypothetical scenarios by which he could disappear, leaving Harry to live his life in peace, without the burden of taking care of him in his newly weakened state. He could creep away in the night, slip out of his hospital bed and the castle, off to wherever the miserable went to get lost. With each passing moment his plans for leaving became more and more stealthy, yet elaborate. Would he leave a not? Would he hide out in the wizarding world, watching Harry from afar like some disturbed voyeur, just to be near his love and know that the younger man was alright. He knew the bond would put terrible strain on him if he left, potentially causing that dreaded “violent bond reaction” Hermione warned about like some banshee of doom; but he would suffer what he must so long as Harry could be happy and safe.

Yet, loath as he was to admit it, Severus realized that he would not be able to make it far on his own. Madame Pomfrey didn’t need a sleeping spell to keep him tethered to the wing and he no longer had friends who did not also share a strong allegiance with Harry. He had no wand and little strength with which to perform any serious magic. He had no choice but to wait until he healed back to… well, whatever strength he would eventually possess. He resigned himself to patience, snuggling far down into the covers, drifting off to sleep, unwilling to allow his mind to linger on just how frightened he was at the prospect of waking up alone once again, without Harry laying near.

That night Severus’ subconscious was ravaged by a nightmare more hideous and riveting than anything his time as a Death Eater could ever have produced. His mind produced a filmic version of Luna’s retelling in full color and with sound, ensuring that he would remember this particular dream come morning and indeed until the end of his days.

Harry apparated directly in front of the shop, a large doll…no a man, impaled rectally upon a staff. Gasps and screams of horror rang throughout the assembled crowd as they watched Harry, barefooted and shirtless, face twisted like a furious gargoyle, stab the staff into the ground, the body on it writhing and releasing an inhuman scream into the air. The man propped up on the stake was pale and trembling, his limbs hanging limply as though no he were no longer in command of them.

Luna, Ron and Hermione, who were busy speaking to the small contingent of Aurors turned at the sound of the shrieks from the crowd, their eyes bulging when they saw Harry and Wood, the latter whom looked as though he had been dipped in blood from the waist down. Ron stretched out both arms, stilling his fellow Auror’s from attacking Harry. The redhead looked his friend in the eye and for the first time since meeting at age 11, Ron felt he did not recognize those green-eyes at all; for he saw nothing but the madness of feral rage and raw power swimming in the dark green eyes of his friend. Then Harry gave him a sickeningly evil stare, before waving his hand broadly, a gale force wind smacking all the bystanders, forcing them to dig their heels into the ground for balance.

Luna scrambled desperately towards her enraged friend. Hermione took off after the blonde, grabbing the back of her robes and forcing her to the ground, dropping her own weight atop Luna’s svelte body to keep her immobile. The blonde’s mouth opened wide, her lips moving rapidly, yet her voice never emerged, just the continued pleas for mercy that Oliver screamed into the air.

Ron began to slowly circle Harry and Wood, his brown eyes sensing the invisible dome Harry had erected. Ron pulled out his wand and nodded knowingly at his fellow Aurors, signaling them to being trying to bring down the dome. As they shot jets of various colored spells at the invisible dome, Harry just ignored them, turning his attention back to Wood, who was whimpering and moaning, his entire body shivering like a wet cat.

With another wave of his hand Harry had Wood suspended in air, his body stretched out on an invisible crucifix. The crowd of ordinary wizards and witches stood gawking, mesmerized by the terrifyingly gruesome act being played out before their very eyes. They screamed and yelled, some passed out, others vomited as Harry began carving away strips of Wood’s skin using nothing more than an extended finger dragged along the length of Wood’s now denuded body. Blood was everywhere, pooling around Harry’s feet, turning the dirt into reddish mud.

Ron and his Aurors continued attacking the dome, trying with all their collective training to dismantle the dome.

Hermione, straddling a thrashing Luna and pinning the blonde’s wrists to the ground, gazed over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the mayhem unfolding, her stomach revolting at the gory sight of her friend slicing up her former housemate like a picnic ham.

“Let me go, Hermione! Fuck you, how can you just sit here and do nothing? You’re supposed to care for him. He’s killing someone in broad daylight!” Luna screeched, bucking her hips, trying to throw Hermione’s thicker, curvier body off of her own.

Hermione gazed down into Luna’s anguished face, her own tears of sorrow pooling above her lower lids.

“I…I’m sorry Luna, but this has to happen. It’s…his nature,” she said quietly, her voice nearly drowned out by the primal screams and gurgled sobs of Oliver Wood as he was shredded alive.

Severus woke abruptly, gasping like a man who had just outrun a giant, his heart dancing inside his chest cavity, the throbbing whoosh of his elevated blood pressure leaving him deaf in the darkness. He could tell by the thin, silvery sliver of moonlight slicing across one of the beds closest to the window that it was not yet morning. With shaking hands he untangled the sweat soaked sheet from around his legs, straightening the covers, inhaling deeply trying to calm his frayed nerves.

The empty silence was painful to hear, because the lack of sound left nothing for him to focus upon but the incident that had just so vividly replayed itself in his dreams. He pulled his legs up to his chest, folding his long arms around his knees, rocking himself gently, wondering how Harry was at this very moment and if life for them would ever be the same.