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Sadness of Eros	By : LoupGarou1750 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her business associates own the world of Harry Potter. I make no money from this, nor anything else. The words 'The open palm of desire wants everything' are from the Paul Simon song 'Further to Fly'. He owns those.

Chapter List
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4

"What's for breakfast?" Ron brushed ash from his hair and robes as he stepped through the fireplace into the Potters' kitchen.

Harry held up a glass. "Eggs and vodka. Less the eggs."

"Little early for that, isn't it? Well, I guess when the wife's away...Why no eggs?"

"You know what they say, the sun's always setting...somewhere." Harry waved his hand vaguely; he was busy watching tiny white flakes of snow in his glass as they drifted slowly down and enlarged the miniature glacier forming at the bottom.

"Mebbe, but here in merry old England, it's just an hour after the crack of dawn, and you have to get ready for work. Or don't you remember Shacklebolt calling an early meeting? If there's no eggs, what is there? I'm starving."

"Should have eaten before you got here. Doesn't your wife feed you? Didn't go to market, not going to work." Harry laughed and held up his glass. "There's a storm coming." Right on cue, a tiny cloud formed above the rim and began dumping a new flurry of snow into the clear liquid.

"The wife – and you'd better believe I'm telling her you said that – is taking advantage of the kids being gone to sleep in. And what do you mean you're not going? You're already, forgive the pun, treading on thin ice with Shacklebolt."

"Not treading, trodden. Already broke through." He nodded at his glass. "In more ways than one. Seemed like a good opportunity to revel."

Ron stared at his friend, concern furrowing his brow. Suddenly he jerked his head, eyes widening comically as he watched snow falling in Harry's glass. "Oh bloody fucking hell! You secretive old sod! You did it, didn't you?" He pounded Harry on the back. "I've got to try it. Except I can't. We've got to get to work. I can see why you'd want to celebrate, but really, mate, on a Monday morning? Why couldn't you have your success on a Friday night?"

"Not exactly celebrating." Harry speech was slightly slurred. His hand trembled as he took another drink. The frigid Snow Vodka sloshed over the rim and drenched his chest, making him shiver.

With a sigh of exasperation, Ron took the glass from his friend's hand and set it on the table. After a moment's thought, he banished the glass completely.

"Up you get." Ron put his arms under Harry's and tried to lift him out of his chair. "We've got twenty minutes to get you sober, fed, and dressed. Come on. Get up. A shower'll make you feel better."

"Nope," Harry said, resisting Ron's efforts to haul him to his feet by sagging, making himself a dead weight. "Don't have to. Don't want to. Won't."

"You've been whinging about hating being an Auror for years. Why don't you just quit and be done with it?"

"Out of my hands now. Bring back my drink, you sodding prick. I wasn't done with it. What're you doing here, anyway? Too early for a rescue mission. Nobody'd even know I was drowning yet."

"Harry, get up."

"Told you, don't have to, don't want to, won't."

"Fine. Drink yourself silly. I'll tell Shacklebolt you've got dragon pox, or something, but this makes the third time this month you haven't reported in. I doubt he's going to believe me. And given all the other trouble you've got yourself into–"

"Don't worry about it, mate. It's over. Done."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been let go."

"What?"

"Sacked. Terminated. Made redundant. Set loose. Emancida–emancipateded."

"What? Oh bloody hell." Ron rubbed his face with both his hands, then stalked over to the fireplace and tossed in a handful of Floo powder. "Weasley-Granger residence."

Behind him, Harry groaned in irritation.

"This had better be good. It's my first free day in two weeks." Hermione's hair was wilder than usual and she had a sour look on her face as she tightened the sash of an ancient, shapeless bathrobe.

"You're just going to spend it reading, or something equally daft. I'm at Harry's and I think you need to be here too."

"Why? What's wrong?" She looked at her watch. "Why aren't you at work? I thought you had to be in early."

"There's nothing wrong!" Harry roared from his chair without turning his head. "Except Ron stole my drink. Go back to bed, or whatever. I'm fine. I'm more than fine, I'm a fucking genius and aren't you jealous?" Harry stood up, wobbled drunkenly, and fell back into his chair.

Ron scowled. "You see how he is. Really, I could use your help. We've an interdepartmental meeting in five minutes, but he says he's been sacked."

A sloppy grin creased Harry's face as he heard a muffled oath from the fireplace. "What do you think I can do about it?" Hermione asked irritably. "He's been trying to get himself sacked for the last ten years. If he wants to pickle himself in a vat of firewhisky, there's nothing we can do about it, Ron. We've talked about this before. He won't get counselling and if he won't tell anybody what's wrong, there's nothing we can do for him."

"Snow Vodka," Harry said. "Firewhisky's for wankers. And you needn't talk about me as if I weren't even here. You're in my fuckin' house! Have some fuckin' respect!"

"Hermione, please?" Ron was begging.

"Fine. Give me twenty minutes. I've got to shower and eat something."

"Don't bother!" Harry roared.

"Twenty minutes? Shacklebolt's going to have my head!" Ron sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "You'd better firecall the Burrow and get Ginny."

"NO!" Harry roared. "I'll tell her when I'm good and ready and not a fuckin' minute before! She'll fuckin' kill me and I'm much too fuckin' young to die! Just go away, all of you. Let me enjoy my success for a few fuckin' moments, can't you?"

"Success?" Ron bellowed. "You call getting sacked a success?"

"Ron, don't," Hermione scolded. "You know you're wasting your breath. There's no point yelling at him until he's sober. Fine, Harry. I won't notify Ginny yet, even though she has every right to know."

"At least get Neville, then," Ron beseeched his wife. "And Luna. Hell, McGonagall if you can manage it. We need every possible reinforcement. I'm going to wrestle this idiot into a bath."

Harry's hair was still wet, as was most of Ron, when Hermione Flooed in. Neville was right behind her. They had barely said hello when Luna stepped from the fireplace.

"Oh bloody hell!" Harry yelled. "Sorry, Luna. Not because of you."

"Of course it's because of me, or you would have said it before I got here." Luna smiled serenely. "Did you know there's a snowstorm over your glass, Harry? You should be careful, you probably have an infestation of Tibetan Yetinis. They won't much like being in England; not cold enough and being away from their mountains might make them grumpy. They may be tiny but they're fierce when irritated."

Neville smiled fondly at Luna while Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes, but Harry suddenly seemed to recover some of his previous animation. "Yetini! Great name! We could use that. I've got other ideas. This is going to be terrific. There's a mint to be made, I'll show you all I'm not such a loser as you think!"

"We don't think you're a loser, Harry, just occasionally a bit...misguided," Hermione said primly.

"I don't know, Harry. You might have to pay a licensing fee, or something. Although that could be quite a good thing, actually. We could set up a Yetini protection fund, or something. They're very nearly extinct, you know. Might mean an expedition to Nepal. I've always wanted to go to the Himalayas." Luna's usually placid face was wreathed in a smile of enthusiasm.

"What are you going on about?" Ron asked, looking at Harry.

Harry was too busy rummaging in the whatnot to respond. He pulled out five glasses, poured everyone a measure and then raised his for a toast. "To me. To Snow Vodka, magical geniuses – that's me – and capitalist enterprise. To Lucius Fucking Malfoy, without whom none of this would be possible."

"Harry?" Hermione's face was wreathed with concern.

"Malfoy? What's that fuck got to do with anything?" was Ron's contribution.

"Is he funding you?" Luna asked.

Neville simply gazed at Harry as if he were trying to puzzle something out.

"Sit down, boys and girls. Uncle Harry has a story to tell."

Flippant as his tone was, Harry found it difficult to find the words. "Well, um, I suppose I'd better start at the beginning. Not the very beginning, we'd never get done and you were all there anyway."

"You need to get to the point, mate. Shacklebolt won't be half-pleased if neither one of us shows for the meeting."

"OK. Let me see. I guess I should start with the statue."

"Now that was funny. I wish I'd been there for the whole thing instead of just the mopping up."

"Ron, you're not helping. Don't interrupt," Hermione scolded. "Go on, Harry. The statue of Snape."

Harry turned to Luna and Neville. "I'm surprised it hasn't made the Prophet already. I put a statue of Severus Snape in the Ministry Atrium."

"And then bested fifty of the Department's best Aurors."

"Ron!"

"And disarmed ten green cadets," Harry corrected, smiling. "All right. Well, I'm not supposed to tell anybody this yet, but as the cat's already poked his head out of the bag...Percy was ticking me off and happened to let slip that Lucius Malfoy had been made head of Magical Law Enforcement."

"No he didn't!" Ron's face had turned an unattractive shade of red.

"It's true, dear," Hermione said.

"You knew? You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"I couldn't. It's all very hush-hush. Harry shouldn't have said anything."

"See what happens when you leave work early and take the next day off? You miss all the good stuff, Herm. The story's probably all over the Ministry by now."

"Oh, dear! What have you done now, Harry?" As an afterthought she added, "And how many times have I told you not to call me 'Herm'?"

Harry rubbed his face, suddenly aware he was far more sober than he cared to be. "Malfoy was in the building yesterday. He walked past me and smiled. I wanted nothing so much as to smash that supercilious smirk right off his face, but I restrained myself." He tried a grin, but even without seeing his friends' faces he knew it weak. "I followed him to the Minister's office. He waltzed in like he owned the place, not so much as a rap on the door, and sat down."

"Prick," Ron muttered.

Bulling past the interruption, Harry continued, "I waltzed in right after him, sat in his lap, put my arms around his neck and asked, 'What did you do in the war, Daddy?'" Harry smiled happily as he thought about the look of outraged anger on Malfoy's face. "Wouldn't have been so bad if there hadn't been a contingent of Lord High Mucky-mucks in Percy's office."

Ron laughed while Hermione and Neville looked at Harry in horror. Luna, having produced a butterbeer cork from somewhere, was watching it bob up and down in the snow-storm tossed waves of vodka in her glass.

"Percy had me bodily thrown out." Harry laughed ruefully. "By the same ten cadets I'd bested before. They're a smarter bunch than I gave them credit for. Learned from their earlier mistakes. My arse met pavement. And that's all there is. The end. Somebody pour me a drink."

"But Percy didn't actually say you were through, did he?"

"Don't be daft, Hermione. If Percy hasn't sacked me, Shacklebolt will. Or Malfoy will as soon as he takes up residence. No, it's over, and I'm glad." He held up his glass, admiring the snow drifting gently down to the bottom. "I was so angry, I hurled every bit of magic I had at the still, and behold! Snow Vodka."

"Effin' brilliant, mate! So, what was it did the trick?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "I really just let loose everything I had. I've got a few bottles' worth and no idea how to recreate it. Maybe I am a loser."

"Harry," Neville said, speaking for the first time since they'd exchanged greetings on arrival. "What is it with you and Snape? He's dead. Why can't you let him rest? I mean, I know, have known, that he was on our side, because you told us that back when...But why are you so certain? You've never said."

"Haven't I?" Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I never told anyone what you told us. Didn't think it was my place." Hermione looked uncomfortable. "And I never saw them myself, of course."

"Snape gave Harry some memories. As he was dying," Ron explained to Neville and Luna. "But he never showed them to anyone else. Harry I mean, not Snape."

"I told you what was in them. The important stuff, anyway. I would have shown you, but...there are things I don't think Snape meant to include, and I don't know how to separate those things out from the others. I'm afraid I'd destroy them all."

"You still have them," Neville said, something like wonder in his voice. "After all these years."

"Couldn't just toss them, could I? I thought about burying them with him, but we never found the body, so I couldn't. Then I thought maybe someday I'd figure out how to separate the strands, but..."

"But you didn't want to," Neville said. He gave Harry a peculiar look.

"I'm sure we could figure it out," Hermione said. "There's bound to be something in the Ministry library, or at Hogwarts. Or perhaps Flourish and Blotts can order something for me, if I can figure out what that would be." Her voice took on a familiar animation as she contemplated her research possibilities.

"Fine. Do that," Harry said. He felt uncomfortable under Neville's steady scrutiny. "Look, I know you're all worried, and thank you for caring enough to come by, but I'm fine. Really I am. Ron, you're already late for your meeting, and you'll want to hear what's being said, I'm sure. Hermione, you've taken enough time away from your holiday. Neville, Luna, thanks, really, but I'm sure there're things you'd rather be doing. I'm going to go downstairs and see if I can recreate last night's experience." He held his glass up again.

"You've got to tell Ginny," Hermione said.

"I know. I will. Don't any of you do it for me. But I need some time alone, and she's going to be upset. Let her enjoy her time with her mum."

"You can't be meaning to wait until she gets home? That's days away. Oh Harry! She'll read it in the Prophet or hear something on the wireless."

Harry grimaced. "You're right. Of course you're right. Look, I'll tell her tonight. I just need some time to figure out what I'm going to say. Get on with your day, all of you. Hermione," Harry said with exasperation as she opened her mouth to speak, "I'm going to tell her."

He ushered the group firmly to the fireplace. Neville stood back until the others had left, then turned to Harry. "We should get together. Talk. We haven't done that in awhile."

"Yeah. Right. We should. Just not now, OK? Not now."

"All right, Harry. But soon." Neville threw his handful of Floo powder into the flames and stepped into the fireplace. "Soon, Harry," he said and disappeared.

"FUCK!" Harry roared, smashing his glass on the hearth.

~*~*~*~*~
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Sadness of Eros