• 1-A Most Trusted Soldier
• 2-2
• 3-3
• 4-4
• 5-5
• 6-6
• 7-7
• 8-8
• 9-9
• 10-10
• 11-11
• 12-12
• 13-13
• 14-14
• 15-15
• 16-16
• 17-17
• 18-18
• 19-19
• 20-20
• 21-21
• 22-22
• 23-23
• 24-24
• 25-25
• 26-26
• 27-Author's Note: update
• 28-Still getting reviews...

Beta'd by Slyth (thanks for the cheering charm; almost better than happy pills by prescription).

Encouraged by EmilyWaters.

Severus slammed his wand down on the top of his worktable, unable to stomach yet another failure. He flung off his outer robe in aggravation and stomped over to his private potions stores, his face pinching-up when he noticed how depleted they were. Unfortunately, he was not yet able to brew anything stronger than Pepper-up and had nearly finished off his personal cache of enhanced strengthening and calming draughts. He was loath to take Hermione and Webster up on their combined offer to pool together and brew him additional vials of whatever he or Harry needed, but it seems he would have to do so despite his reservations. Harry would know if he didn’t anyway, as a hefty daily dose of an enhanced strengthening potion was the only thing keeping Severus from smelling like Filch’s breath to the hypersensitive nose of his lover.

Harry had been diligently informing Severus that his scent was getting better with each passing week and the older man was determined to keep it that way. By the grace of a combination of the strengthening potion, Severus’ own healing—however slow—and Harry’s personal determination to keep Severus as his mate, they were making their relationship work. And it was, in fact, work. The effortless intimacy they had once shared now had to be carefully managed and planned, thoughts of depleted magic and unwanted limitations always at the fore.

Depression was a constant shadow, which Severus just barely managed to hold at bay. He chose to staunchly ignore it like an irritating goblin and for the most part that was successful. Yet, he had nearly succumbed to it when he had to forgo breeding this year due to what he had begun referring to through clenched teeth as his “condition”.

The entire cycle this year had been a journey to hell for the older man. Pain, he could take. War, no problem, they eventually ended. But being separated from Harry…that was nearly a death knell.

The cycle began nearly three weeks after Wood’s attack on him and Harry had decided to leave or the duration. Severus had sat on the edge of the bed with his stomach in knots, watching as Harry packed a small valise, his long fingers balled into a tight fist in an effort to prevent himself from grabbing the younger man by the clothes and begging he stay. In the week leading up to breeding, no matter how Severus protested, Harry had remained adamant about not sharing a living space with Severus during breeding. The minute he started feeling the hot flush of breeding upon him, which usually showed up a good day or so before the actual event, Harry packed up and left for Hogwarts where Madame Pomfrey sedated him for four solid days; Harry making her to promise to add an extra day just to be sure the cycle had ended.

Severus had never been so lonely in all his life as he was in those four days. He found it funny in a sad sort of way; that after having lived alone nearly all his life with little thought of it, Harry’s absence for longer than an eight hour period could leave him feeling like someone had ripped out his lungs. The farmhouse was not overly large, like some drafty mansions; but in those four days it had felt more dreary and cold than the dungeons at Hogwarts ever had. If it weren’t for Luna’s steady presence in those days, babysitting him as it were, he would have surely taken the Floo directly to Hogwarts and crawled right into bed with his lover, sedated or not.

The good news was that breeding aside, they were able to share a bed regularly, hug and kiss; they had been engaging in mutual handjobs and increasingly heavier petting but had yet to fully engage in any type of intercourse or fellatio. Severus was being a good boy, following his recommended recovery regimen. Sadly this included refraining from tempting Harry beyond what was sane, which basically meant leaving the room whenever Harry stretched, smiled, dressed or undressed, drank anything, moistened his lips, showered, pissed, or even yawned. The older man knew things were reaching critical levels when Harry’s yawns got him hard. Yes, things were definitely strained.

Harry, for his part, was being unnaturally gentle—even for Harry. Severus could sense the underlying tension in his lover, which he attributed to Harry’s insistence on not only warring with his Amoral instincts, but the younger man’s insistence on coddling and placating Severus like some trauma victim. Which Severus was certain he was to a degree, but Merlin did he ever hate the constant reminders.

Severus stormed up the stairs from his private lab in the farmhouse and out onto the porch for some much needed fresh air. Breathing in deeply and exhaling loudly, he thought back over the last three months since Madame Pomfrey had declared him healthy enough and released him from her care, with a snippy warning of “no intercourse”.

The mediwitch had warned him that his magic would continue to rebuild over time and not to rush things. She couldn’t quite say how long it would eventually take for Severus to return to whatever his full magical strength would be but she proposed that it should take no more than three to six months. Yet, at the rate he was going it was looking more like three to six years.

He had returned to his extensive morning Yoga routine to help his body gain back its former flexibility and every day he had been exercising, even going jogging with Harry in the mornings. He hated jogging. The only redeeming quality of doing it was that he could see Harry run around topless and sweaty; and even that turned out to be a kick-in-the-ass in the end, because he would finish the run horny as a rabbit with no recourse except perhaps a merciful wank in a cool shower.

While his libido was running on a full tank, his magic was barely a quarter full it seemed; thus Harry refused to engage in any rough play and had virtually begun treating Severus like an ailing older mate than a willing, needy submissive.

The entire situation was fraught with complexity and Severus just wanted everything back to normal. He wanted Harry to stop treating him with kid gloves. He wanted to feel useful again, to return to taking care of his dom and having his needs met in return. Yet, Harry seemed adamant about not putting too much strain on Severus’s body or magic until they knew just how strong he would eventually be once his power reached maximum regeneration.

Within the first week of being back home he happily discovered that he was strong enough to get around under his own strength. He could tend his own grooming needs, fix meals and other mundane tasks without becoming winded. He and Harry had a small celebration when, in that same week, Severus was already capable of minor, everyday spells using his wand. He could Accio items, perform cleaning and repelling charms, transfigure small items, even Apparate short distances. Yet, the power level was very weak. He nearly got splinched trying to Apparate from the bedroom to the kitchen, nearly falling down directly on top of Harry when he reappeared. It left him exhausted beyond belief, but he could do it and that was a start.

Yet, here he was nearly three additional weeks after the fact and he had made little additional progress. He had gauged on his own that he was at best at a decently strong fifth year level when it came to the power of his magic. His mind held vast amounts of knowledge when it came to advanced magic, dark, light or otherwise. He could write reams and reams of theory and practical information on types of magic most wizards never even bothered to fathom, let along utilize. Sadly, if asked to demonstrate this vast knowledge he’d be at a loss; as useless as Longbottom in a duel with Lucius Malfoy’s corpse.

The potions master was nearly sick with grief about the slow recovery of his magical power and Harry had done all he could to placate him. Cheering him up with gifts, soft words of encouragement and jokes. Luna had been over countless times, forcing him to take a break and enjoy the day, forcing him to shop for things he did not need under the guise of “getting some air”, making him pudding and telling him that he was worrying too much and trying too hard to make it happen faster. The blonde was constantly poking fun by telling him he had “performance anxiety” and if he didn’t cut out with the incessant worrying he’d no longer be able to “get it up”. Then when all that had failed Harry had resorted to heavy petting, fondling and kissing. Interrupting Severus whenever he could for impromptu rounds of nearly everything but penetrative sex. And that had worked…for a while.

Once again Severus was a little in awe of just how deep loyalty to Harry ran inside the Ministry. Because Harry was a consultant to the Aurors and best friend of Ron, who was on fast track to replace Kingsley someday, it seems the written reports of the incident in Hogsmeade that should have been made by the three witnessing Aurors, had either been lost or never actually dictated. Furthermore, Severus had learned that several high-ranking members of the Wizengamot, many of whom had unsurprisingly shifted their loyalties to Harry when he became the heir apparent to Dumbledore in the war effort, had delayed the ruling on the incident for months.

Amelia Bones herself had taken “ill” with an undisclosed ailment and could not be made available, thus precluding a full-vote as was required in any case that involved the taking of a life. Add in Hermione’s behind the scene intimidation of various journalists sniffing around for further details, along with Harry’s contingent of loyal friends and believers and the lot of them had managed to plug up the typical Ministry leaky beaks for nearly twelve weeks. Nearly.

Two days ago, just as Harry and Severus were sitting down to a full breakfast, Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon, who was still tiny and skittish but had grown terribly slow and forgetful, flew into the kitchen with a note from the other two halves of the Golden Trio. All it said was “We’re sorry, mate. We’ll see you soon.” Harry had paled slightly but kept his composure, taking up his coffee as though he had not just read a note warning him of impending doom. Severus just steadied his nerves, determined to stand beside his lover come what may. The potions master was not crystal clear on everything that had transpired since Wood’s attack, but he knew one thing, Harry had protected him and still wanted him. And for Severus that was all he would ever really need to know.

Minutes later a post-owl flew in with the day’s copy of the Daily Prophet. Even as the bird moved to drop rolled newspaper onto the table, Harry had quietly pushed away from his breakfast and left the room. Severus had watched as his lover, proud and strong, walked out with his head held high, trying to appear unfazed and disinterested in whatever news the paper held. Yet, years of watching Harry deal with the press’ invasive scrutiny into his life and the fickle way they tended to treat him, Severus didn’t need magic to know how great a weight had settled upon his lover’s broad shoulders.

With his constant friend guilt front and center, Severus gave the owl a bit of bacon before opening the newspaper to face whatever fresh hell that was no doubt upon them.

As he stood on the porch gathering fresh air into his lungs, Severus felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and that the slightest shift in the breeze would send him barreling over the edge into nothingness, alone and without his love. Perhaps he was just biding time, being naively hopeful that his magic—once it did see fit to return—would be strong enough to keep he and Harry together.

He leaned forward and braced his hands against the porch railing. He closed his eyes and meditated on his yoga breathing, trying to calm the wave of anxiety welling in the pit of his stomach. The cool breeze of the young autumn season brushed against his face, the tips of his hair barley lifting as though blown by a baby’s yawn. Severus let out a deep breath through his open mouth, clearing a path for peace in his soul, hoping for serenity’s return.

After a few moments of deep breathing and listening to the birds twitter in the distance around the property, he heard Harry’s boots clomp out onto the porch behind him. Severus opened his eyes and frowned a little. He didn’t bother turning around, preferring instead to scowl out at the beautiful landscape, thinking how pathetic it was that he should feel happy that he still even had enough magic to be recognized by the wards.

“Bad day?” Harry asked, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on Severus’ shoulder, looking out into the distance as well.

Severus nodded stiffly, unsure just how much more of this he could take. Not only was his magic progressing slowly, but now the entire wizarding world knew all the salacious details of what had transpired in Hogsmeade, including the fact that it was Oliver Wood who had been eviscerated by the goddamned savior of the wizarding world.

A day after the story broke in the Prophet, Amelia Bones made an astonishingly fast recovery and assembled the entire Wizengamot, which voted to find Harry innocent of murder. There had only been one dissenting vote; and while the individual votes were not made public, Severus knew if he ever saw Dolores Umbridge in public he’d snap her fat neck like rotted wood.

As a concession to the public furor surrounding the incident, the Wizengamot cited him for not registering as a magical creature when his heritage first became apparent, as the law required. The penalty for that was a hefty fine and forced registration, which meant twice-yearly visits to the Office for the Regulation of Magical Creatures in order to remain in compliance with the registrar.

Harry held Severus, rocking their bodies gently side to side, breathing in the scent of his lover’s hair, fully aware of the tension throughout the man’s body. He knew that Severus’ magical power, or lack there of, was a sore spot and he had been scared to bring it up. He did not want Severus to feel awkward or pressured into getting better too soon. Besides, Harry knew something Severus did not. Perhaps now was the perfect time to reveal it, he thought. So gathering his nerve, he turned Severus around in his arms, gave him a quick peck on the lips and with a smile said, “Come with me. There is something I have been meaning to show you.”

Severus refrained form rolling his eyes as he wanted. Instead he nodded again, pulling himself free of Harry’s embrace and entering the house. Harry followed, motioning for Severus to preceed him up the stairs towards their bedroom, while he disappeared into the downstairs study, telling Severus, “ Wait on the bed. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Severus didn’t event bother acknowledging he had heard to order as he sulked his way up the stairs, irritated that he was filled with enough anxiety to put Dobby to shame; yet, Harry was taking it all in stride— the way Harry did everything. Severus didn’t know what bothered him more. The fact that Harry was so calm about it all, or merely the fact that Severus had hoped that his lover would confide in him about his feelings, which the potions master knew ran deep like the stillest of waters.

The first day the news broke had been awkward. After the newspaper had arrived Harry had been silent like a stone, leaving Severus mostly on his own. Today, three days later, was the first day Harry had acted like himself— carefree, innocent and smiling; just the way Severus liked him. To look at the younger man one would never guess that he had just been outed to their entire world as the last known Amoral descendant, but that he was now also classified as a magical creature.

The exposé, penned by none other than the ever intrusive and brash Rita Skeeter, held all the salacious details, complete with a magical time-line of Harry’s life and deeds running sidebar to the article at the foot of the front page. Witch Weekly was running a series called: “The Lovers of Harry Potter: Where are they now?” Severus had banished the first issue containing that series the moment the post-owl dropped the newsmagazine from its beak; had he been a tad faster he might have banished the owl right along with it.

Hoping to head off the torrent of misinformation bound to erupt in the coming days, Luna had been instrumental in having The Quibbler run an informative piece, written by Hermione, on the history of the Amoral, which included a fact sheet about them. The Quibbler, though still on the bottom rung of sales and respect, had definitely come more into the mainstream since the war. After everyone discovered that the interview they ran with Harry back in fifth year was true, many in the wizarding world had learned not to dismiss the publication out of hand.

So far the wizarding public had shown its usual inability to remain stalwart. There were and always would be Harry Potter die-hard fans and supporters, true believers as it were. Yet, there were far too many who were easily swayed by innuendo and junk journalism. Just like his fifth year all over again, Harry was once more being subjected to public scrutiny by John Q Wizard, wondering whether or not he was sane or homicidal; whether or not he had become power hungry and was slowly turning Dark. This was only slightly more tolerable than the sky-is-falling crowd, which insisted Harry was becoming the new Voldemort and would eventually torture and kill them all. Seers all over the country were backlogged with requests to predict whether or not Harry would destroy the world as they knew it. Business had never been better for the crystal ball crowd.

Wild speculation ran the gamut, and it was all being reported on the WWN and in every newspaper. The Daily Prophet even added a mid-day edition to keep up with the news, which tended to be mostly gossip and conjecture, with the occasional quote from various Ministry peons looking to shore up their own self-importance.

Further complicating things was the fact that Oliver Wood’s mother and uncle, a man powerful in his own right, were now attempting to bring charges of wrongful death against Harry in wizarding civil court. While their suit could not jeopardize Harry’s freedom, they could if successful, take the Potter and Black fortunes. Hermione was furiously researching every law and loophole to prevent the action from proceeding, but even she looked dubious when Severus had questioned the likelihood of her success. All three knew that in order for Harry to prevail Severus would have to consent to have his medical records released, proving Wood’s actions against him; but that was a topic left untouched. They all knew that when it came down to wire, IF it came down to the wire, Severus would strut naked in front of the entire court, proudly displaying his bond mark if it would keep Harry solvent. He knew Harry didn’t really give a shit about all the money—it had cost the younger man far too much. Those coins represented the dying wishes of every parental figure Harry had ever loved and Severus was determined that Harry’s inheritance, no matter how excessive, would stay within his vaults.

Topping the mound of rat dung they were now inundated with was the image of Ron and a fellow Auror escorting Ginevra up the Ministry steps followed by a weeping Molly Weasley. Severus thought for sure that when Harry saw that picture that his lover would finally blow his stack, yet once again his younger lover surprised him. Harry had merely taken the Floo to the Burrow, waited for Molly to return and then brought the woman back to the farmhouse. After several pots of tea, a batch of Molly-made biscuits, and a good cry and lots of hugs, things between Harry and the rest of the Weasleys were as right as ever. Naturally Molly did not blame Harry for any of it; but she did wallop him on the head for not telling her about his heritage, yelling, “A mother should know these things about her kids, Harry Potter! How dare you keep this from me!”

The warm-hearted matron had left shortly thereafter, making both Severus and Harry promise to come by for their usual Sunday dinner and telling Harry that he and Ronald would be degnoming the garden for the remainder of the year for keeping secrets.

While Ginny could not be charged with any crime— all she did was tell a secret anyway— her reputation was taking a serious beating. According to a Witch Weekly poll, only five percent of those polled thought she was innocent of betrayal; the rest were split evenly between calling her a “harlot with a bad attitude” or “a vengeful, gold-digging ex-lover out to get Harry Potter for breaking things off”. Severus knew both the latter to be true, but sadly he had not been among those polled.

Severus arranged himself at the foot of the bed in a pose as close to submission as he knew Harry would allow, with his feet, ankles, knees and thighs close together and his hands open palm down on each thigh. He was well aware that penetrative sex was off the menu with his power level still regenerating, but he wanted so much to be put to use, to serve, to feel desired and needed. Yet, Harry was having none of it and got fairly disgruntled when Severus even hinted at being capable of more than their current level of intimacy.

Just as he was weighing the risk of daring to suck Harry off while the younger man slept, the subject of his thoughts entered the bedroom carrying a small, plain, square wooden box, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

Harry walked over and sat next to Severus on the bed, those green eyes wide and slightly nervous-looking, causing Severus to frown wondering what could possible cause his love to look so uneasy.

Before he could ask Harry grabbed both Severus’ hands in one of his own, their fingers clutching together tightly.

“I’ve been debating on whether or not to give you something for several weeks now,” Harry said, swallowing loudly, the small box clutched in his other palm, which rested atop Severus’ thigh.

“I wanted to wait, hoping that perhaps I’d never need to give it to you. But I can’t go on watching you this way. You’re afraid. I…I don’t ever think I’ve seen you so afraid. It’s subtle, like you are waiting for some inevitable bad ending to all this.”

Severus looked away and let out a short huff, shrugging hopelessly.

Harry let go of Severus’ hands and grabbed his mate by his narrow, smooth chin, forcing the older man to meet his eyes.

“I told you I’d take care of you. Remember that?” Harry asked tugging Severus chin slightly as though to force a reply.

Severus nodded jerkily as Harry’s grip would allow.

“Then all I ask is that you let me. Okay?”

Annoyed but also desperate to please, Severus nodded once more.

Harry released his chin and focused his attention on the small box in his hand. He didn’t say anything for several moments, just stared at the box as if afraid to open it. Severus shifted a bit, which seemed to draw Harry’s attention back to him. The younger man gave him a shallow smile before getting up from the bed and walking over to stand in front of the large floor-length windows in their bedroom, turning his back to Severus.

“You know it’s strange. My entire life is just…strange,” Harry said quietly with a shrug. “When I got to you in Hogsmeade all I felt was rage—at least at first. Then when I saw you there, hurt and covered in someone else’s magic my heart nearly stopped beating. It was all I could do to keep functioning at a near human level. Everything inside me just wanted to rip the world to shreds and fuck anything I couldn’t kill. The need to claim was so strong and it felt so…so…good.”

Severus listened to his lover’s gruff voice, heavy with an emotion that he couldn’t quite name. It was equal parts amazement, anguish and satisfaction. The eerie lustful tone of Harry’s voice was only further highlighted by the way his breathing had increased to a soft pant as he recounted his feelings on that day that had changed their lives so profoundly. Severus let his eyes rake across Harry’s back, noticing the tension in those muscular shoulders, unable to stop feeling complete desire for the younger man despite being uncomfortable with what was being said.

As Harry turned once more to face him Severus saw the unmistakable gleam of passion, as though Harry were recounting not some bloody scene of a crime but a hedonistic tryst that just happened to end in a bloodbath. Severus felt his heart start to pound erratically as Harry stalked back towards the bed. He did not immediately understand why he was suddenly feeling so vulnerable but he was certain that Harry was the cause. It had been so long since he had felt his lover’s power and at this moment it was swirling about him like heavy steam, coating his senses and toying with his magic.

When Harry reached the bed he grabbed Severus by the upper arm— his hand tight over the platinum armband beneath Severus’ button down—and gently pulled him into a stand, their bodies facing one another so closely they could almost kiss.

“Did you know that Amorals keep what they kill?” Harry breathed over Severus’ lips. “Apparently it is a rare inherited trait among Amorals and typically only inherited by especially powerful dominants, be they male or female. Funny, don’t you think, that I should inherit yet another rare gift? Parseltongue apparently wasn’t enough.”

Severus couldn’t help but shut his eyes, his mind dizzy as he was hit full force by Harry’s pheromones. An involuntary moan escaped his lips when Harry’s mouth brushed across his own ever so gently.

“When I killed Wood I felt no guilt at all. No hesitation. By the time I had him on that pike I felt no true rage, only the rightness of inevitability. Does that make any sense?” Harry added, his breath warm against the corner of Severus's mouth as he stroked a hand up and down his lover’s spine, allowing his fingers to linger at the base with each pass.

“No,” Severus replied, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. He felt helpless and was strangely happy about it; yet, as good as it felt to have Harry taking some modicum of control, Severus fought to clear his thoughts and focus. “Harry? Harry, what…what are you saying?”

Harry pulled back a step and looked Severus straight in the eye. “This is for you,” he said, holding the box up for Severus to take.

Severus folded his arms around his body, not yet willing to touch the box. Harry’s magic was so strong and Severus could feel the desire rolling all around. It wasn’t so much purely sexual desire; more like needful, but potent all the same. He could feel Harry’s magic, almost taste it. It was like a drop of cool dew had fallen on parched lips and Severus knew it could only mean one thing— he had made one more step in his recovery. His Dark Sought powers were clawing back to the surface, trying to reconnect with Harry’s magic. Harry was unconsciously pulling Severus’ ability to the fore; the younger man’s own needs finally breaking through all that noble resolve. The Amoral in Harry wanted its sub back and it was becoming apparent to Severus that unless Harry resumed sating that part of his heritage the bond may force it in a way that could be detrimental to them both.

Severus cleared his throat and shuffled back until the back of his knees rested against the mattress. “What’s in the box?”

Harry just smirked coyly, which Severus would have normally found endearing, but there was something unsettling about the gleam in Harry’s eyes.

“I realize once you discover what it is you might be reluctant to use it. All I can do is remind you that it is my right and I feel no remorse. I will never lose a second’s sleep over that bastard and neither should you. He nearly killed you,” Harry said. “Like Voldemort, Wood tried to take someone I love, that makes him disposable. Whether he knew it or not, the moment he even thought of harming you he committed suicide.”

Severus watched through narrowed eyes as Harry spoke, wondering just what in the hell was in that box. His mind began to fill with all sorts of horrible things. Was it some trophy; some piece of Wood taken for him to mount on the wall like some stuffed moose head?

“You are mine. My lover, my mate, my responsibility. I want you to remain capable of pleasuring me and protecting yourself. You are no helpless maiden and the lack of power does not suit you. You, Severus, are who I want to carry my firstborn. Not Luna.”

“You…how did you know about…why would you say that?” Severus stammered, mentally kicking himself afterward, knowing that he had just admitted his part in an unasked question.

“I ripped through Luna’s memories just like I did you when I arrived at the shop. I know what you made her promise. If I had wanted Luna knocked up she’d have been on kid number three by now. She was fully available and open to me for a number of years, Severus. I’ve had her— in nearly every way imaginable. Yet, it is you who are here with me now. It is you who wear my mark. I’ll thank you to remember your place and refrain from begging others to serve in your stead.”

Severus blushed, slightly embarrassed. He had never meant for Harry to know that, but there was nothing for it now. “I only asked her because I knew you’d need someone you could trust, Harry. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t choose for yourself.”

“Choose? You think this is about choice? Don’t you get it, yet?! You’re not the only one in love. You’re not the only one who stands to lose something. My choice has already been made. I may be unnaturally powerful magically, but my heart is as fragile as a petal when it comes to you. I’ve not survived without your involvement on some level since I was a year old. What makes you think I can do so now?”

Severus’s throat was so tight with emotion that he couldn’t even form his mouth to speak. He wanted to throw himself into Harry’s arms and bask in all the love he knew the younger man capable. He wanted to believe that things would be alright. That love would conquer all and the rest of that saccharine drivel he caught the teen girls at Hogwarts swooning over when they should have been reading up on their lessons.

He pulled away from Harry and sat down heavily on the bed, his traitorous eyes pooling with unshed tears. He closed his eyes to force the tears back into the ducts, allowing himself a moment of quiet to compose himself. When he opened them again Harry was gone. The only evidence left behind was the small wooden box hovering in the air in front of him, kept floating by a hover charm no doubt placed by Harry.

With damp, unsteady hands Severus plucked the wooden box from the air and pulled off the lid. Inside, on a bed of raw cotton, was a thick ring made of a material Severus could not identify. The ring itself was a plain, charcoal-colored band, about a quarter of an inch in thickness all the way around. It was quite unattractive actually. Plain and hastily crafted, the surface appeared filled with small pockmarks, like pumice. It looked almost like a rock someone had whittled into a primitive ring.

Severus frowned, uncertain what was so special about this ring but knowing that in their world everyday items often held magical or mystical properties. Bracing himself he reached in and plucked the rough-hewn ring from its resting place. The moment his hand connected with it he felt his entire hand go exceedingly warm and tingly. Immediately recognizing the prime signature of magic, he dropped the ring onto the bedroom floor as though burned. He might be weakened but his mind was working at full capacity; he knew magical aura versus something charmed. This was not some charmed trinket. Harry had done the unthinkable. He had taken someone else’s magic and infused it into the ring. And Severus would bet his stock of Dragon’s Blood that someone was the recently deceased Oliver Wood.

Severus felt the warm feelings of love and desire fading quickly into the background. How could Harry have done something like this? Not only had he killed Wood in beastly fashion, but apparently he had also managed to take the Keeper’s magic and infuse it into this piece of jewelry. Severus’ thoughts were running a mile a minute and his anger was rushing forth even faster. How could Harry expect him to wear not only the evidence of murder, but also to use the magic that had once belonged to the very man who had tried to take Harry away him. It was unconscionable. It was madness. It was twisted.

Severus stalked over to the bedroom door and flung it open, the doorknob banging loudly against the Armoire behind it as it connected. The potions master took the stairs down two at a time in the hunt for Harry. He found his lover sitting on the sofa reading some Muggle travel magazine as though he had not just presented Severus with a ring of death.

Severus stormed over, ripped the magazine from Harry’s hands and shouted, “What the hell makes you think I would EVER wear that?!”

“Calm down, Sev. It will help you until your own levels are back. With it you can go out on your own again. You’ll be as strong, if not stronger than you were before with that ring. And it’s not permanent. Think of it as an aid.”

“Aid?” Severus said with a snort “An Aid? Are you out of your mind?! You can’t be serious, Potter.”

“But I am, Severus. It is only magic. Like energy, once it is displaced from its source it no longer belongs to anyone. It just flows back into nature until reconnected with a soul once more. You need it. It’s yours. Use it.”

“What I need is for you to stop treating this all like nothing! Damn it, Harry, have you seen the papers?! You have been labeled a murderous magical creature, are fucking an ex-Death Eater and according to some idiot historian in Buckley on your way to being Dark. Can you please stop acting like none of this bothers you and deal with it!? Bottling it all up inside and ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

Severus paced in front of Harry, his hands balled into fists, his mind reeling with thoughts of that ring and what Harry had done to get it. The lines of right and wrong had become so blurred, even more so than they had been during the war. This was just so unavoidably personal and had no bearing on the greater good, which made every decision feel utterly selfish. The potential for corruption was high given Harry’s ability and Severus just couldn’t believe that Harry could be so obtuse about the press coverage. If one whiff got out about the existence of that ring Harry could be hunted down like wild game. Even this many years after Voldemort’s death, the image of a powerful wizard capable of a gruesome, remorseless murder was not something Harry of all people needed to present.

Harry sat on the sofa, his eyes tracking Severus’ every step. Severus couldn’t help but sneer when Harry didn’t deign to offer a reply to anything he had said.

“Perhaps what you’d rather is to be left to your life of solitude? Living out the rest of your days unwilling to face the public like some hermit; allowing those hacks that call themselves journalists to tell any old story they like. Hiding away from the press like some hounded, wounded beast,” Severus added.

“What would you have me do, Severus?!” Harry shouted, rising up from the sofa. He grabbed Severus by the arm, pulling him close. “Shall I run pleading to the masses in an effort to relieve their fears? Should I give a speech where I promise to be the boy savior of their dreams, slayer of Dark Wizards and protector of all?”

Harry released his arm with a slight shove and turned away before continuing.

“Shall I…leave you?” he mocked softly, his voice steady and hard despite the way his shoulders slouched in defeat. “Shall I leave the man I love so that the wizarding public can prop me up on a pedestal of noble chastity and justice? Would that somehow make it all better?”

Severus was gritting his teeth and trying not to pay attention to the remark about Harry leaving him. Harry had to face reality and stop attempting to banish the world by hiding out on their property, surrounded by the idyllic environment. Severus meant to provoke until he got Harry to open up, crack that serene exterior his lover was obviously working so hard to maintain.

“Love? You love me so much you can barely stand sleeping next to me. You touch me like something damaged and infirm. You don’t treat me like a lover. You treat me like you are waiting for me die. Biding time by playing the gentleman when you know I will never be capable of breeding.”

“I am treating you like a man recuperating from severe magical depletion and near fatal poisoning, you persistent bastard! Don’t you ever assume that this is easy for me just because I am not walking around displaying my displeasure at every turn or humping you like some wild animal incapable of abstaining from sating my carnal needs when necessary.”

“No, of course not. You appear to be uninterested in engaging in displeasure or pleasure equally these days. You prefer instead to walk in this fog of vague indifference, unwilling to face the reality that you can’t fix everything with your magic. You can’t fix me!”

Harry didn’t immediately respond but he did look at Severus angrily, his normally full lips thinning with suppressed rage.

“Isn’t that what that ring up there is for? Hm, Potter, to fix your broken toy?!”

“You forget yourself, Severus. Speak to me like that again and I swear I’ll flay that bond mark right off your side,” Harry said in a near whisper before summoning the ring from upstairs. The ugly ring flew into his palm like a bullet. Severus fully expected blood to begin dripping from Harry’s palm when it opened, yet as Harry held the ring up between his thumb and forefinger there was not a drop.

“Do you realize how painful it is to me, every part of my nature, to see my mate, my sub unhappy and afraid? This ring will keep you safe. When you wear it you and I will both know you are not only mentally capable of protecting yourself, but also magically. You have never been helpless and I won’t see you that way now. Being escorted about by myself, Luna, Ron or Molly. Unable to work! I hate potions, but I know you love them. You’d die before you admitted it, but I see the pain in your eyes every time you come from the lab. Each time you thumb through one of those ridiculously archaic potions books in the study. Don’t you know how much that hurts me too?” Harry said sadly, tossing the ring to the floor at Severus’ feet.

“You have no idea what I went through holding your near lifeless body in my arms?! Watching as one more person I loved threatened to slip beyond this life, away from me. If you think that ring is a means only to sex and babies then perhaps Wood was right. Maybe you are in capable of love. How can you ever truly love me when you can so easily twist my motives?”

That stung, more than Severus wanted to admit. He had often questioned is ability to love freely and wholly, but these past years with Harry had proven to him that he could love as deeply and thoroughly as anyone. Even from the beyond Wood was managing to insert himself into their relationship. Just as he was about to reply with some scathing retort Severus saw the exhaustion in Harry’s body, the defeat in those normally vibrant green eyes. He knew that look. It was the look of a heart breaking.

Severus felt his throat go dry as he realized just how out of line he had been. Harry was only trying to help and in his frustration with everything that had transpired Severus had lashed out at the one person he cared for most. The entire situation was fucked up, murky and had become woefully over complicated. Harry was only trying to make the best out of chaos. To remain unchanged in an atmosphere that was changing daily. Pushing himself to remain a fearless protector for Severus; capable and strong so that his sub could feel safe even in a weakened state.

Harry looked sadly at the man that had shaped his life in so many ways. He often felt that if his life were laid out in a trail of sand, Severus’ footprints could be tracked almost from the moment of his birth. There was a time when all he wanted to see of Severus Snape was his name scrawled next to some poorly spelled epithet in the boys bathroom at Hogwarts; now all he wanted was to grow old with him, spend the rest of his days taking care of the man and making him happy. Why was it so hard? Why couldn’t his life ever just be simple?

“I’m tired,” Harry said, his green eyes looking like those of a man far older than his years. “I’m going to lie down.”

Severus felt his knees go weak as he watched Harry ascend the stairs, his legs climbing sluggishly and slow as though carrying a heavy burden to which Severus knew he had just added another level of weight.