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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Of all the outrages! To do such a thing to a Hogwarts Professor!”
Severus knew better than to tell Phineas to calm down. It would only enrage the portrait further. Not for the first time, the departed Slytherin amused him. The man was dead and gone over two centuries, nothing more than a moldering pile of dust in his tomb. But his painted representative demanded respect as his due and was always miffed when he didn’t get it.
The Carrows were no better. Solely because of their appointment by their dreaded Lord, they walked through the Hogwarts corridors in an insufferable cloud of self-importance. He had caught Minerva staring after them with absolute loathing on more than one occasion, her wand hand twitching in her robes.
He fervently hoped for her sake that she did not give in to impulse and blast them. The Dark Lord would take great pleasure in torturing the woman for such insubordination before killing her and prominently setting up the body for display. She would serve as an object lesson for all those who would think of defying him.
“ – and that simple-minded Potter and the wretched Weasley boy kept interrupting me while I was speaking. Insufferable bunch! Does Albus really think – ?”
“Then Potter is alive still?” His heart bounded in his chest though he let no outward sign of it show.
“Very much so, unfortunately. He kept on breaking into the conversation. Not very smart for someone who’s supposed to be in hiding. Then again, Gryffindors aren’t noted for their intelligence.” He sniggered unpleasantly, not seeing the scowl from Delford Gryffindor, a Headmaster from the 11th century.
“Where are they now, Professor Black?” Severus said, reining in his impatience with great difficulty.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t hear their location. In any case, they have undoubtedly moved since then. They tend to change their locations often. Perhaps the only sensible thing they’ve done so far,” he sniffed. Then he frowned and cocked his head to the side. “It appears they are calling me again. Arrogant brats.”
“Let me know all that transpires, Phineas.” The portrait pulled a sour face and walked out of the frame, disappearing from view. Severus slumped back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief.
Merlin be praised, Harry was still alive after all these months. Phineas was blindfolded each and every single time he was called upon so he could relate nothing of Harry’s physical state. But the boy seemed to be weathering his self-imposed exile tolerably well. If he was suffering, he was very careful not to let a Slytherin like Phineas Nigellus know.
Much of Severus’s free time was spent researching Horcruxes and wracking his brains as to what particular items might have been chosen by his mad Lord. Dumbledore was no help. He’d merely stated it was unlikely any of the remaining cursed objects were in Hogwarts. With so many students running around, Tom Riddle would have felt the chances of discovery were too great. The remaining soul containers must be far away now, even in other countries, and Severus could not afford to absent himself from Hogwarts long enough to find them. So here he was and here he was forced to stay.
Because of the Horcrux search, his fruitless hunt for a way back to his own dimension and his enforced duties as Headmaster, Severus had plenty to do to keep himself busy and his mind active during the day. The evening hours were a different affair.
His soul ached to be reunited with Harry. The pain was worse at night when there was nothing to distract him. Time and again he started awake, his hands reaching out across the sheets for his vanished bondmate only to be met time and again with emptiness. The dungeons had never seemed so chill as they did now.
His plight moved Albus, especially when Severus related all the happy memories he had with the Harry he’d known. But it did not soften the former Headmaster’s determination to keep them separated.
To avoid the barren field his bed had become, Severus had taken up his old habit of stalking the halls. He regretted the nights that other Hogwarts teachers did so but understood the necessity. They were there to protect roving Hogwarts students from the Carrows, although they pretended it was to police unruly miscreants. With half of the student body gone, catching juvenile delinquents was an empty pursuit. Luckily, the dimwitted brother and sister Death Eaters hadn’t caught on to that yet.
He might have dozed; he wasn’t sure. But suddenly Phineas was back in his portrait. “Well?” Severus demanded, straightening his spine to work out the kinks.
“I had a bit of luck. The Granger girl said they were in the Forest of Dean. I heard her mention it just before they removed my painting from its container this time.”
He didn’t know the place but it shouldn’t be too hard to find. Severus rose from his seat, excitement vibrating from him. At last, he knew where his beloved was sheltering. He would fly to his side and then…
“I wouldn’t advise getting in contact with Harry, Severus,” Dumbledore said flatly.
Severus gave the portrait a cool look. “And what will you do to stop me, Albus? You are in no position to threaten or coerce me. And nothing you say will change my mind.”
“There is one very strong reason for you not to reveal yourself to young Harry.” He paused, the twinkle entirely absent now.
When Severus refused to ask the obvious question, Dumbledore went on. “Harry will not listen to you, Severus. He hates you. I might even claim that he loathes you almost as much as he hates Voldemort.”
Severus stopped, stunned at this news. Dumbledore had said he and Harry – this Harry – were not friends. But hatred? “Do not think to sway me with such exaggerated – “
“It is not exaggeration, I fear. In this world, you hated James Potter. When he died, I hoped that would be an end to your rancor. Instead, you, or rather your doppelganger, transferred your animosity to Harry, claiming that he is nothing more than an arrogant sneaky little boy who refuses to obey the rules, no better than his father. You have made his life miserable since his first day in Hogwarts. Even learning you are a spy for our side has done nothing to abate your mutual enmity. Do not try his temper by showing yourself to him now.”
Was this true? Had he and James been enemies? They’d had their differences, surely. But Lily had been there to smooth things over. She’d been here, too, at least during their years at school. What could have shoved such a wedge between him and Harry’s father?
Evidently Albus was not to enlighten him. “Take the sword of Gryffindor. You know what to do. Come back when it is done and report to me. There is much we must do during the upcoming weeks.”
We? That was laughable in the extreme. No matter what happened, Albus was a picture hanging on a wall. What would he be doing? It would be up to Severus to bear the brunt of the labor, as usual.
Flinging a scowl at the portrait, he picked up the sword and tucked it within his robes. His voluminous apparel was an asset here. No one would think to question it, especially now when he held such a position of importance.
He left quickly, using one of the many hidden passages he’d grown to know so well during his years as a spy. How disheartening to have to utilize this knowledge again after all these years.
__________
The redhead lay curled around Hermione. They were cuddled up so close Harry was baffled as to how they could sleep like that. Harry sighed wistfully and dropped the tent flap.
After their row, Ron had been anxious to make amends. He and Hermione had spent at least an hour whispering to each other. Given the coldness outside, Harry hadn’t wanted to leave the tent. But it was clear they wished for privacy. Casting a Warming Charm, he had donned his Invisibility Cloak and sat outside.
His years with the Dursleys trying to sleep on uncomfortable mattresses had made him something of an insomniac, as attested to by all the nightly walks he’d taken in Hogwarts. Staying up late was no hardship.
Harry started, suddenly on full alert. Was there something moving in the trees? He couldn’t get a clear sight of whatever or whoever it was. He fingered Hermione’s wand under the Cloak and prepared to blast the intruder.
The presence drew nearer and now Harry saw it clearly. It looked to be a bright light, moving through the branches of the trees. In the near-darkness, it was easy to spot. It couldn’t be an enemy then; they’d use more stealth, surely.
The glow broke the tree cover, aiming straight for him. It wasn’t merely a light. It was a Patronus. A silvery crow flapped its wings soundlessly, coming to alight on the ground some yards in front of him. It cocked its head and winked one glowing eyelid.
Harry stayed still under the Cloak. Could the Patronus or whoever sent it see him? The bird made no effort to come nearer. But it knew about the tent; that much was clear from its hopping motions near their perimeter.
Should he reveal himself? It could still be an enemy, one that would sound the alarm if it “saw” Harry Potter. Or a friend might have sent it. His mind raced, trying to remember whom he knew that might have a crow Patronus.
“Um, can you talk?” he whispered. Kingsley’s lynx Patronus had been able to speak. Maybe this one could too.
The crow shook its head. When he didn’t move, the beast fluttered its feathers until it looked twice its size. He thought the creature looked peeved, like it was annoyed at his inability to understand. With another flap, it took off towards the trees.
Harry stared after it, torn. Going after it would be cracked. This whole scenario might be a trap. At the very least he should rouse the others and let them know he was leaving.
But he was scared of losing the crow. He didn’t know how but it was like he knew this creature. He couldn’t let it vanish without finding out who had sent it.
He stood and removed the Cloak, shoving it inside the tent. The Cloak would be better left with the sleeping pair. Careful not to wake them, he slipped away, weaving through the trees as he tried to keep the crow in sight.
The bird flapped on leisurely, stopping only to perch on branches to let Harry catch up to it. Finally, it lit on the glassy surface of a frozen pond. Harry leaned against a tree, panting from the exertion of running in the fierce cold. When he regained his breath, he said, “Okay, I’m here. Now what?”
It didn’t answer, merely cocked its head at him and soundlessly rapped with its beak on the frozen sheet of ice. Harry waved Hermione’s wand and murmured, “Lumos.”
He stepped closer, careful to avoid the treacherous ice, and stared into the depths of the pond. Red sparkles gleamed in the murky depths of the water and his eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
The thin shaft of light from his wand made out the rubies first, encrusted in the hilt of the fallen weapon. The golden glitter of the hilt shone like a miniature sun in the gray depths of the waters.
It was the sword of Gryffindor. The very item they’d been arguing about, the weapon that Scrimgeour had refused to release to them, lay at the bottom of this pond.
“Accio Sword!” Harry cried. The weapon didn’t so much as twitch.
Harry huffed in irritation. It figured he couldn’t Summon the sword. If it were supposed to be that easy, it would have been left lying on the ground. But then anyone might have found it and picked it up.
The last time he’d held the sword, it had come to him in a moment of great distress, pulled from the Sorting Hat. Was that the key? “Help,” he muttered.
The sword did not stir. So that wasn’t it either. He wasn’t in need now; maybe that was the problem.
He gritted his teeth. It looked like he’d have to do this the hard way then. Why did everything have to be so darned difficult? Sighing, he started peeling off the first of Molly Weasley’s jumpers, shivering as the cold air touched his skin.
He swung around uneasily once or twice while he was undressing. He was sure there was another person close by, other eyes boring into him. That Patronus had to come from someone. But, judging by Kingsley’s Patronus appearing in the midst of a wedding celebration when the man himself was at the Ministry, it was possible to launch them very far from their originator. The sender could be miles away for all he knew.
Finally, he was stripped down to his smalls. His teeth were chattering madly in the cold, his breath puffing out in gusty clouds. He wanted nothing more than to pull on his clothes again and rejoin Ron and Hermione in the warmth of the tent. But this had to be done and delaying wouldn’t make it any easier.
“D-diffindo.”
In spite of his clacking teeth, the spell worked. The ice cracked and broke asunder, revealing the still waters beneath the surface. He laid the wand down, tucking it into the bundle of clothing. Willing himself not to think about it, he forced deep breaths into his lungs and jumped into the ice-cold waters.
It was like knives had slid into his skin, choking the breath out of him. Thrashing like mad, Harry broke the surface, took another huge gulp of air, and dove down through the icy depths.
This was nothing like when he’d participated in the Triwizard Tournament. His whole body felt like lead weights were attached to it as the cold penetrated right down to his bones. It was getting harder to think with each passing moment. All he could do was bend his whole focus on the shining weapon that lay just out of reach.
His fingers brushed it. But he knew this more by sight than anything else since his hand was now little more than a numb lump of flesh. For a crucial second his fingers refused to close. Then they locked around the hilt.
All at once, a vise gripped his throat. The locket Horcrux, completely forgotten, was choking him like a noose, cutting off vital air. Harry pulled at it frantically with one hand but he dared not let go of the sword. If he had to surface, there was no way he could force himself down again to retrieve the weapon.
His vision was blurring as the scant air burned in his lungs. His mouth opened – to breathe, to scream – but nothing happened. He wanted to release the sword now but his frozen fingers refused to obey.
As his vision clouded, he thought he saw a winged figure diving through the lake towards him. Was that – an angel? He didn’t believe in such things but then, this was a magical world. Anything was…
He didn’t complete the thought. His body went completely limp just as the figure reached for him.
__________
A black-clad statue leaned against the trees, indistinguishable from the bark. Severus watched with bated breath as Harry came charging into the clearing after his Patronus. This was the first time in months since he’d seen his bondmate and he wasn’t going to miss a single detail.
The boy’s outline was a baggy lump, obscured by the clothing he was wearing. Severus’s heart pounded and he gripped the tree with clawed fingers as his beloved began to strip.
Skin pale and blue from the chill air revealed itself in tantalizing increments. Even at this distance, Severus could see the adolescent’s nubs made pointed by the cold. He recalled the last time he’d touched that flesh, stroked those nipples until they were as taut as these. Severus struggled to control his breathing when he realized he was getting a considerable erection, in spite of the frigidity of the surrounding air.
He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch this foundling, the one he’d been so painfully denied all this dreary season. On a conscious level he knew that this was not his Harry. But the knowledge wasn’t enough to tear him away from this precious sight. As more flesh was revealed, he fought to control his breathing lest puffs of cloudy air reveal his position.
Time in hiding and spent on the run had made this boy – no, not a boy any longer, really – starvation lean. His ribs showed and cheekbones jutted from skin stretched too tight from lack of decent food. The black hair was a scraggly length; being unable to get a proper trim, it was well past Harry’s shoulders, tangled with neglect. An uncharacteristic grimness to his face and in his movements proved him miles away from the carefree youth Severus had known.
There was an odd bruise on his chest, purplish and ugly. Just over it, a glint of gold gleamed around Harry’s neck and Severus’s eyes narrowed at the incongruity of it. This must be the missing locket Amycus had mentioned. So Harry and his friends had it in their possession still. But it was not yet destroyed, apparently.
While he badly wanted to question this young man, he noted the Gryffindor’s wariness. Several times, Harry looked up sharply, his lit wand sending sharp beams of light into his surroundings. He was sensitive to Severus’s presence even if he wasn’t sure where the man was lurking. Severus longed to cry out, to let Harry know he was here and that he needn’t be afraid of him. But he heeded Dumbledore’s warning and forced himself to remain hidden.
Harry stared into the lake and muttered a spell. When the ice cracked, he jumped in without hesitation. Severus winced in sympathy. He muttered a curse under his breath at Dumbledore’s insistence that the sword be concealed this way. Didn’t Harry have enough to contend with without having to endure some ridiculous test of mettle in order to retrieve an antiquated weapon?
Mentally, he started counting in his head when Harry dove. As one minute stretched into two and there was no sign of the Gryffindor, he began to panic. His worry was ratcheting up to bone shuddering terror when the second minute passed and Harry did not re-surface.
Without thinking, he was streaking towards the water, his robes flapping behind him. He cast a Warming Charm automatically as he dove feet first into the pond.
He saw the man first, a hand tugging frantically at the chain around his neck. The necklace was choking Harry! It must be reacting badly to the presence of the sword and he cursed the brat’s foolishness in not having removed it first.
Harry blinked, seemed to see him. Then his eyes rolled into his head and his body ceased to move.
NO!!! He was near Harry now and wound one arm around him, forcing him to release the sword. He gripped the weapon in his other hand and wordlessly cast a Lightening Charm, sending their entwined bodies bobbing towards the narrow opening above them.
As he broke the surface, he tossed the sword out one handed and struggled to lift himself and Harry on to the shore. Even with his magic and strength, it was not an easy task. But his fear for his loved one’s safety overrode his own weariness and at last Harry’s still form was stretched on the ground. Impatiently, he tugged off the Horcrux and cast it aside.
“Harry? Harry, my love…” Oh, god. The man didn’t stir and Severus noted with dread the blueness of his lips. Pressing his ear tight against Harry’s chest, he barely made out the feeble movement of the heart. It was breath he needed then, breath and warmth. Severus cast the Warming Charm again and a Drying Charm, this time over them both.
“Anapneo,” he whispered hoarsely. Water gushed in thin streams from the blue lips and Severus tilted Harry’s head so none would flow back into his throat. When he deemed all the fluid was out, he pressed his lips over Harry’s, pinched his nose shut and puffed in his mouth.
Silently, he thanked his Muggle upbringing and his own self-taught lessons. They had shown him techniques little known in the Wizarding world. This resuscitation wasn’t something he’d ever had to practice on a living person but he hoped he remembered his own training.
There was no response but Severus did not stop, would not stop, even in the face of the inevitable. He had not found his bondmate, his missing half, only to lose him now to a careless accident!
For terrifying moments, Harry did not move nor breathe on his own. Then the figure quivered. Harry convulsed and began coughing weakly. Severus felt unwanted tears sting his eyes.
“Harry. Oh, Harry. Darling,” he whispered. He held the too-thin body loosely, not wanting to impede his breathing, though he longed to crush him in his arms.
When Harry squirmed, he moved back and saw green eyes fasten blearily on his own. Harry blinked and then whispered, “You.”
There was a wealth of loathing in that single word and Severus cringed inside at hearing it. “Harry, please. There’s something you need…”
“Get away from him.”

TBC
- 3
- 4
- 5
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