Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Endurance	By : WinterRaven Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 29171 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of Harry Potter universe. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty-One
- 22-Twenty-Two
- 23-Twenty-Three
- 24-Twenty-Four
- 25-Twenty-Five
- 26-Twenty-Six
- 27-Twenty-Seven
- 28-Twenty-Eight
- 29-Twenty-Nine
- 30-Thirty
- 31-Thirty-One
- 32-Thirty-Two
- 33-Thirty-Three
- 34-Thirty-Four
- 35-Thirty-Five
- 36-Thirty-Six
- 37-Thirty-Seven
- 38-Thirty-Eight
- 29
- 30
- 31
Thirty

The knock on the door was quiet, soft at first. Harry ignored it for as long as he could. He heard the sound becoming louder, slowly but surely, increasing in strength, in urgency but he couldn’t get up from the ground. He didn’t want to. How long had he been lying there, curled in a ball, Elisha’s memories playing over and over in his mind now inexorably linked with his own? How long had he been trying to accept the impossible—that he had had a sister, one last connection to his mother, the mother he never knew, the one he always wanted? The fact that for a little while, he wasn’t as alone in the world as he thought… At least not then, but now he was.

Could Snape understand his anguish? Perhaps—the man had lost a daughter after all, and Harry remembered Snape’s face, contorted at the sight of her glowing, still body, the understanding in his black eyes as all the pieces fell into place.

There was another slam of the fist against the door and this time a muffled voice.

Harry didn’t want to answer for anyone. His eyes were so swollen from crying he could barely see a foot in front of him, and he felt a dull ache in his chest, as though his heart were weeping with him. But Harry perked up when he heard the voice again, begging this time—the only voice he wanted to hear. It was coupled with another knock. He forced himself to stand, his hair sticking up sideways, his face red on one side from having leaned on it for so long, his right arm tingling from numbness. Harry pushed his glasses upright and stumbled to the door, his wand resting in his hand, hesitating to open up.

“Please,” said the quiet voice on the other side.

Harry whispered the spell and pushed the door ajar, squinting as the light from the hallway spilled into the tiny, black room. It took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust but Harry was expecting to see one person, the boy behind the voice—Draco—but he gasped in surprise at who stood behind him.

It was Snape, hunched over and exhausted-looking, his arms wrapped around himself as if he were freezing. He too bore the signs of intense crying and mourning, his sallow skin even more discolored, his nose unsually pink, his body shuddering.

Harry gaped at them.

“Come out,” Draco whispered, his grey eyes bloodshot and tired. He was looking at Harry pleadingly, worried that his lover had holed himself up for most of the day. “Please.”

Harry obeyed without a second thought, stepping fully into the hallway. Draco stared at Harry, worry etched all over his face. And Harry wanted to say something but the words were lost. He found he could not look at Snape. Harry was suddenly flooded with conflicting emotions—he wanted to mourn with the man, revel in the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had suffered a loss, he wanted to understand what Snape felt…but he was also angry at him; Harry could feel the rage coursing through his veins, engulfing his body in uncontrolled fire.

Snape had known Lily was Elisha’s mother. He had known and said nothing to Harry.

Harry looked away from Draco’s loving gaze. He felt Draco’s soft hand on his shoulder, brushing over his neck.

“Come to bed,” Draco whispered. “You should lie down—”

But for the first time, Harry ignored Draco completely.

“Snape,” Harry said, glancing up at the tall man, the name leaving him before he could stop it. Their eyes bore into each other’s, Elisha’s eyes. “We need to talk.”

Draco’s mouth fell open slightly.

“Harry,” Draco said slowly. “What…what did the memories—?”

And suddenly it happened—Harry exploded.

“She was my sister! My half-sister!” he screamed and Draco removed his hand from his lover at once, as though he had been burned. Blank shock covered his face but Harry didn’t care; Harry advanced so he and Snape were only inches apart, his entire body trembling. “My mother was her mother and you never told me!”

Snape closed his eyes and hung his head. Harry gave a harsh laugh at the man’s gesture, at his silence.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Harry snarled, pushing past Snape so that their shoulders knocked. Snape stumbled sideways. “Fine then! I trusted you, you bastard—”

“We’ll talk,” Snape rasped, his back to Harry now. Draco’s face was turning paler and paler. “Now if you wish.”

“It’d better be now,” Harry hissed, storming past the both of them and tearing into his room at the end of the hall. Ron and Hermione had stuck their heads out of their room, their mouths open, ready to say something but Harry snarled at them and threw himself into his bedroom, trying to calm the beast within.

It seemed to take Snape an age to follow but when he did, Harry was bent over the nighttable, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes were shut tightly, and he was trying to control the inexplicable urge to hurt Snape, punch him, to cry, weep—

The door snapped shut behind them and Snape said in a hollow voice, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Harry repeated, his back to Snape still. He was counting each breath as it went from him, trying to concentrate on something, anything to halt from from turning around and throwing a jab at Snape’s jaw.

But he broke again. Harry spun around.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry gasped, tears leaking from his eyes.

He was stunned to see Snape’s eyes were watering too. The man looked horrified with himself, consumed with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Snape whispered, leaning against the wall listlessly; he tried to stop himself from tugging wildly at his hair so his hands were twitching. “I’m sorry… I was… I am ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” Harry repeated in a dead voice. “Why?”

“I’m ashamed at myself,” the man said slowly, with an edge of hysteria. “That I could not tell you or my daughter the truth… That I was too weak.”

“Why couldn’t you tell her?”

“Because it would mean… it would mean admitting Lily is no longer here. That I wasn’t able to give my child a proper family… That I failed in some way.”

Harry stared at Snape, who was crying wildly now, howling almost. The boy wasn’t sure what he felt anymore. He didn’t know what to do.

“What will help you?” Snape gasped suddenly, his hair about his face, strands running over his forehead, his eyes, making him look like a lost dog. “What will help you forgive me?”

“The memory,” Harry said without thinking, as if knowing all along that this would balm his pain, his confusion. “The memory of you and my mother… together.”

Snape’s eyes grew wide.

“Why…?”

“I need to understand the conditions,” Harry said, not biting back his trembling voice. “Elisha was eighteen which meant… I know my mother was with my father… Sirius told me before he died. I-I need to know why this happened when she was supposed to be with-with my dad.”

“Lily never cheated on your father, if that’s what you’re implying,” Snape said quietly.

“No?” Harry barked, not bothering to hold back a laugh; his rage consumed him again despite his efforts to fight it. “So explain to me how they were together in their seventh year and all the sudden, she fucks you—”

“He broke up with her,” Snape said in a small voice. “So she came to me.”

“Why you?”

“Your mother and I were friends. We had been friends since we were children.”

Harry stared in surprise.

“Remember when I told you that I was…bisexual?” Snape whispered. “That I had only been with one woman? Your mother was that one woman. It happened a few times while she and James were broken up. She needed someone to…help her, to comfort her.” Snape sighed and mastered his breathing. “That was the only way I knew how… She had—she had practically saved my life, when I was cutting, self-harming. I felt obligated—”

“Did you love her?” Harry gasped, tears falling about his face.

Snape didn’t answer right away but seemed as if he were trying to gulp air.

“Did you!?” Harry screamed, slamming his fist on the table so the water jug rattled.

“Yes,” Snape groaned and he was sobbing again. “The only woman I ever loved—”

“And so she got knocked up with your kid,” Harry said, his voice shaking.

“We were eighteen when Elisha was born. But…but by then, your father had wanted her back—”

“Did my dad know about Elisha?”

Snape blinked.

“No,” he said his voice barely above a whisper. “He had no idea. Lily begged me to take care of her and we thought, one day, we would tell James but then…then Lily got married to your father and you were born two years later and…and…” Snape shuddered. “And then Lily died.”

“Why did he break up with her?” Harry asked.

“He wasn’t ready for a serious relationship at the time,” Snape whispered, sniffling. “At least that’s what Lily told me—”

“And Elisha was just one big secret.”

Snape nodded.

“I’m not proud of it. I’m unhappy that my daughter grew up without a mother—”

“Yeah especially since you were fucking absent half the time!” Harry yelled, not knowing why he said it. He was too angry to stop himself.

Snape looked as though he had been punched in the face.

“Goddamnit!” Harry yelled again, stumbling over himself as he moved toward Snape. He was hysterical, gripped with the urge to do something crazy, to hit him. “Do you know how badly I wanted a sibling? Someone who understood me? Someone who I could have a connection with? Now…she’s gone—”

Harry gasped and collapsed onto the bed, weeping violently into his hands. Snape did not move from the wall; he was trembling from head to foot.

“I never wanted to betray your trust,” Snape whispered as Harry’s sobs died down. “Harry, I didn’t know what to do.”

Harry was shaking his head.

“Snape—” His voice broke in a whimper and he gasped, glancing up at the striken man. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Snape stifled a shudder.

“I don’t know,” he said shakily. He looked to be in tremendous pain. “I loved my daughter—”

“She loved you too,” Harry rasped. “The memories…she…she loved you.”

Snape was holding back another wave of tears.

“I’m sorry,” Harry groaned, his heart racing in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Snape opened his mouth to say something but both men jumped at a sharp knock on the door.

“Severus!” came Lupin’s urgent voice. “Harry, Severus, open the door!”

Snape stared at Harry as they both wiped their tears from their faces. Harry nodded at Snape and the man pulled the door open; Lupin, Lucius and Draco came stumbling into the room. All three of them were glancing at Harry and Snape with grim expressions.

“What is it?” Harry asked before Snape could.

Lupin sighed, his eyes flashing back and forth.

“You’re needed downstairs,” Lupin said softly. “The both of you.”

Harry peered at him blearily from the bed, feeling lethargic and sick. He didn’t want to move.

“Who’s down there?” Harry croaked.

Lupin sighed.

“Dumbledore.”

Harry bit back a cold laugh; he saw Draco tense next to his father and Lupin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Lucius looked just as cold and appraising as Harry felt.

“He’s the last person I want to see right now—”

“But he wants to see you,” Lupin interjected, his voice cross. “Harry, you might be pissed off that he’s locked you in here but—”

“I’m pissed off because he knew what Elisha was going to do and couldn’t stop her!” Harry screamed, feeling his blood boiling in his veins.

Lupin frowned but did not back off.

“You don’t seem to understand how powerful she was,” Lupin said. “The fact that she could do that to Dumbledore…the fact that she could duel You-Know-Who with such ease… That kind of power is extremely rare—”

“Silence!” Snape screamed, his voice cracking. Lucius swept toward him and put his arm around his sullen lover. “Be quiet. We’re going downstairs and that is the end of it. Harry, we’ll finish this conversation after.”

Harry huffed and looked to the side, only to find Draco’s eyes glancing at him. His blonde lover looked so exhausted, so tired and all Harry wanted to do was stay in bed and have Draco hold him forever, stayed locked in this safe place, this warmth, away from the world and reality. Snape swept from the room without another word, Lucius following him. Lupin remained for a fraction longer, looking as though he wanted to say something else but he turned on his heel and Harry heard his footsteps fading in the distance.

It was just Harry and Draco.

Harry felt sudden guilt wash over him and he was overcome with the need to explain what was happening but Draco seemed to have understood without words.

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now,” the blonde whispered, looking at Harry imploringly. “Let’s just get downstairs. I’ll go with you. Okay?”

Harry nodded glumly as Draco walked to him, his hand extended.

“Hold me,” Draco said softly and Harry grabbed on to Draco’s fingers as though his life depended on it.

*

They went, hand in hand, down the steps to the basement kitchen and Harry let Draco calm him, let Draco kiss his eyelids, his forehead, let his lover cup his face in his hands and whisper his love into his ear. By the time they reached the kitchen, Harry was placated but felt annoyance rise in him when he saw the room was full. Tonks, Moody and Lupin sat on the dining bench, Ron and Hermione were standing nervously by the stove, a broken looking Snape and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were huddled a few feet away.

And Dumbledore was in the middle of it all.

He was quiet and staring at the dusty ground, waiting. He looked years older, more worn and exhausted, in tattered robes—the same robes, Harry realized with a jolt, that he had been wearing the day Elisha put him in a coma. Dumbledore glanced up when Harry and Draco entered into the room, his crystal blue eyes finding Harry’s and connecting. And Harry felt that same rage erupt within him, staring back at Dumbledore’s gaze. He suddenly felt like he was fifteen again, locked in Dumbledore’s office after Sirius’ death, itching to break that old face, to pour his pain into violence.

“Please sit,” Dumbledore said to Harry and Draco.

Draco moved forward, expecting Harry to follow but when their hands fell, Draco turned around and looked confused.

“I’m not sitting,” Harry said, his voice low. “Why are you here?”

Dumbledore sighed.

“The spell I was under broke with Elisha’s death. She put me in a coma and I’m not the only one who is awake; Draco’s attackers have finally woken as well—”

Harry snarled at the mention of them and Dumbledore’s eyes flashed. The room seemed to erupt around them and Snape whispered in a hollow voice, “It was Elisha?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, turning to the man, “but I will explain everything.”

He turned back to face Harry who was glaring at him.

“You’re angry at me,” the old man said.

“No shit!” Harry screamed, stepping forward. “You know why this all happened? Because you kept us cooped up—”

“This would have happened even if I allowed you to run laps around London every day,” Dumbledore said shortly. He seemed impatient and irritated, his eyes burning with annoyance.

Harry opened his mouth to retort but felt Draco’s hand on his again and the anger was lost in his throat. Draco’s eyes were so wide and frightened, so desperate and sad. Harry felt his retort strangle within him and his face fell.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered only so Draco could hear but Draco shook his head.

“Sit, please,” the blonde murmured. “Please.”

Harry would only obey for his love. He took a seat without hesitation next to Lupin, ignoring everyone else in the room. Snape sat across from them and he was hunched over the bench, his elbows on the table, consumed in his own head. Harry wanted so badly to shake him out of his depression, to help him, to make sense of all of this, to take back the horrible things he had said only minutes before.

And Dumbledore sighed.

“I want to say this first,” the old man said, standing at the head of the table so he faced everyone directly. “I am sorry for your loss, especially to you—Severus—I know you cared for her deeply.”

Snape did not respond but choked back a sob. Lucius squeezed his shoulder with his arm, looking striken.

“I cannot say I am surprised by her death, however,” Dumbledore continued in the same quiet, grave voice. “I do not mean to sound callous, but Elisha was determined to execute a very complicated plan where it was necessary for her to die.”

Harry said nothing; no one in the room spoke a word. There was a collective intake of breath, waiting for Dumbledore to say something else, to explain. And even though Harry had seen her memories, he craved more details, especially since Dumbledore seemed to know them.

“You may have noticed her body is—” Dumbledore paused, as if searching for the right word. “Is glowing.”

“Yes,” Lupin whispered, his voice hoarse. “We have her here and—”

Dumbledore held his hand up.

“I know,” the old man said. “But I need to explain all of this and do it quickly. Because for every moment that passes, Voldemort is putting the same pieces together.”

Lupin closed his mouth and everyone seemed to lean forward to Dumbledore, waiting, listening with rapt attention.

“Elisha discovered she and Harry were related,” Dumbledore said, his eyes now piercing in to Harry’s. “I’m sorry no one told you—”

“I already know,” Harry said shortly and Dumbledore nodded, not asking for an explanation.

“Harry and Elisha are half-siblings, related through Lily Potter,” Dumbledore said and Harry saw Lupin stiffen uncomfortably next to him, the news coming as a shock. One quick glance around the room and Harry’s eyes landed on Ron and Hermione; Ron’s mouth was open but Hermione’s was shut—and Harry knew why—she probably figured it out ages ago. He remembered her comments on how they looked alike. Harry shut his eyes in frustration and rubbed his temples. If only he had taken Hermione seriously then…

But he focused on Dumbledore, bringing the man’s voice back to his ears.

“When Lily died for Harry all those years ago,” Dumbledore was saying, “she activated a powerful, ancient magic, born only from love. Voldemort underestimated this magic because he does not understand it and never expected it to be used a weapon against him. However, the magic which has served to protect Harry from Voldemort would run out when he turns seventeen—when he becomes a man.” And Dumbledore paused for a long time before he said, “Unless…it is reactivated.”

“Reactivated?” came Hermione’s soft, quiet voice from the back of the room. Everyone was staring at her.

Dumbledore nodded.

“The magic can carry on if a direct blood relation performs the same act that activated it in the first place—in this case, self-sacrifice to protect Harry from harm,” Dumbledore whispered. “Elisha, who was more well versed in magical spells and rituals than perhaps most of my faculty, put two and two together fairly quickly. I should have known that she would do something like this, but by the time she brought it to my attention—that morning I was found in a coma—it was too late. She was determined to act it out and we dueled. I tried to stop her but she overpowered me—”

There was a long pause as Dumbledore gathered his thoughts.

“Through sacrificing her life for Harry’s, she has ensured that he has the same blood protection for the rest of his life.” Dumbledore turned to Harry now, “This means that—once again—Voldemort cannot lay any physical harm to you. Meaning, he cannot touch you or hold you. That very act could kill him.”

Harry did not respond but continued waiting with bated breath.

“Why is she glowing then?” Lupin asked cautiously.

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes and then opened them, looking disturbed and upset. The tension in the room escalated.

“Elisha also performed a second spell before she died,” Dumbledore whispered. “It is one that is so rarely performed…I—I don’t even know how she came to know of it. I am not surprised no one recognized the signs—her body glowing—there was likely a flash of white, strong light when she fell—”

“Yes,” Lupin said softly, leaning forward, trying to understand.

“And… I imagine, whoever was targeted for the spell… was in inextricable pain—” Dumbledore said.

And Harry gasped.

“Voldemort was,” he said.

“I imagined so,” Dumbledore continued. “Elisha was successful. The first part of the spell was executed flawlessly then—”

“What did she do?” Snape whispered, peering up at Dumbledore like a lost child.

“Elisha performed the De Potestate,” Dumbledore said.

But there was no reaction; Harry was expecting Snape to understand at the very least, since the man had extensive knowledge of magical sacrifices and spells, but there was a blank look in his eyes. Even Lupin was stumped.

“What is that?” Lupin asked.

Dumbledore sighed and whispered, “It is a transfer of power—”

“She gave her power to Voldemort?” Harry said in a sharp voice.

“No,” Dumbledore responded. “No. Her power was transfered to the intended target. That would be you, Harry.” There was a long pause between them as Harry tried to digest this. Dumbledore continued, “However, Voldemort was harmed because he is also the mortal enemy of Elisha’s target—he is your mortal enemy, Harry—and her power was working against him, wounding him because he destroyed her body.”

“So…so…what does this mean for me?” Harry asked, his voice dry and cracked.

“You should understand the full effect of what she’s done,” Dumbledore whispered back, his blue eyes piercing into Harry’s.

The group was quiet and Harry watched Dumbledore wearily. He was bracing himself for whatever it was that Dumbledore would say. The old man seemed to steel himself.

“Well?” Harry whispered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Elisha has successfully given you all of her power. Your power and hers are combined, intertwined totally. You are now on the skill level of very few wizards, including myself and Voldemort. Perhaps you surpass us both.”

There was a long pause and Harry felt his limbs turn to ice.

“Harry,” Dumbledore whispered seriously, no twinkle in his eyes. “You just may be invincible.”

TBC

Author’s Note: To my reviewers: Unneeded –Thought it might seem like Elisha is being selfish, she calculated her plan well; yes, Harry and the others will suffer but I’d like to think they are strong characters who will be able to move on, eventually.

Eve—No problem and thank you for continuing to read! I enjoyed your feedback and hope you’re getting a little more closure now that Elisha is gone!

DwellingOnDreams7—Your comments make me smile. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hollibell—Your hunches always seem correct! Harry is dealing with a lot of emotional problems right now, and it probably doesn’t help that Elisha died for him but, like I mentioned before, he’s a strong character. I hope this chapter answered your question on how Snape and Lily got together. And yes, it was extremely difficult for me to end her life. I've known since the beginning that she dies, but it doesn't make it easier. I was (still am) upset about it.

And finally, Angela Dlane—Yes it is terrible but it’ll be worth it in the end.

Thanks to everyone else who read! I will try to keep updating as frequently, though future postings may be a little more drawn out. I’m heading back to college tomorrow and will definitely be busy. I have a few more chapters in mind but I don’t plan on making this story longer than forty. So we’re almost at the end! Thanks for sticking with me!
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Endurance