Burdens of the Heart | By : innocentimp Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 4562 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Burdens of the Heart: Chapter Five
Author: InnocentImp
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: SS/HP um, eventually
Warnings: None for the moment
Disclaimer: I don’t
own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters, locations, etc. Anything you don’t recognize is mine.
Beta: Lydia Carol
Summary: Harry and Severus have a
difficult history together, yet in the later stages of the war they begin to
move away from their past animosity. But when Harry makes an unthinkable sacrifice
to save Harry's life can Severus move past his own insecurities and doubts to
finally see the man before him?
Please let me know what you think!
Chapter Five
****
Harry made his way downstairs to
the kitchen, wanting to see if Mrs. Weasley needed any help. It was early yet but Ron and Hermione were
due to arrive later for a graduation dinner, and true to form, Mrs. Weasley was
cooking enough food to feed a small army.
Ron and Hermione would be staying for a few days, but then Ron would go
to the Burrow with his family, and Hermione would go home for a week or two
before joining Ron. Harry couldn’t
decide whether or not that was a bad thing.
As much as he loved his friends, he sometimes found it tiring to be
around them. He didn’t have time to be
the peacekeeper or keep them entertained.
Still,
it will be nice to see them, even for a short time.
He was just coming off of the landing
and heading for the kitchen when he felt strong arms pulling him into the
library. In the blink of an eye the
door was closed, warding spells were placed on it, and Harry found himself
pushed up against the wall.
Harry looked up into the face of a
surprisingly serious Charlie Weasley.
Charlie moved only to place his hands on the wall on either side of
Harry’s head. Then he resumed his slow
study. Perplexed by the action and for
lack of a better response, Harry just stared back. Slowly Charlie brought his right hand up to Harry’s face and
pushed his fingers back through his hair, coming to rest on the back of his
neck. Carefully, his gaze never leaving
Harry’s, he leaned down to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. Harry, utterly perplexed by the action,
didn’t move to respond. Charlie audibly
sighed and took a step back.
“Snape was right...” Charlie didn’t
quite seem to know where to go from there.
“Charlie?” Though Harry knew what Charlie was referring
to, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with the situation. As uncomfortable as he was pursuing a
physical relationship with Charlie, he found he also didn’t want to spoil his
newfound friendship with the easygoing redhead.
Charlie was quick to reassure him
with a gentle smile. “I think maybe
we’d better sit down for a minute.”
Charlie led him over to the sofa, and once settled he placed his hand on
Harry’s knee, though after a moment’s hesitation he removed it.
“Do I make you nervous,
Harry?”
Well, that was direct.
“No, well not really... ” Harry
didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
He didn’t want to hurt Charlie’s feelings.
Seemingly undaunted, Charlie
continued, “Alright, how about when I do this?” He very gently brushed Harry’s cheek with his knuckles. There was no answer. “How about this?” Charlie very slowly pressed a kiss to the very corner of Harry’s
mouth.
Harry dropped his head, a slight
blush coloring his cheeks.
“I guess a little,” he softly
admitted.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice the
attention wasn’t wanted sooner, Harry. It was not my intention to pressure you
to respond in kind.” Charlie’s voice
was so contrite that Harry couldn’t help the protest that slipped past his
lips.
“No! I mean, it isn’t that, not really...” Harry wanted to take the out
Charlie was giving him, but he didn’t want to do it at the expense of the
redhead’s feelings.
Charlie gave him a wry smile,
clearly not believing Harry’s words.
“Really, it’s just, well, you’re
Ron’s brother, and Ginny.”
“Oh!” Charlie seemed to just be catching onto Harry’s dilemma. “It’s because you’re practically family,
isn’t it?”
“Well, partly at least.” Harry felt himself relax in response to
Charlie’s understanding. “It’s just
that Ron’s practically my brother, and well, I just don’t want to hurt Ginny’s
feelings.”
“Harry, I’m so sorry. To be honest it didn’t even occur to
me. I’m so far removed from my family
that I forget sometimes just how much a member you really are. I guess it didn’t help seeing you here
without Ron and Ginny to remind me you’re still technically school-aged.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. It was never my intention to make you
uncomfortable. It was just so easy to
reach out to you, to get trapped by you.
I should have been more aware of myself and definitely more aware of
your feelings.”
“You’re not angry or
anything?” Harry looked truly surprised
that things had been so easy.
“Of course not. Maybe a little disappointed . . . ”
Harry looked rather alarmed at
that. But before he could open his mouth,
Charlie continued.
“I mean, who wouldn’t be? You’re very attractive, and very
responsive. What’s not to miss?” Charlie smiled and patted Harry’s knee. He stood and began to head towards the door.
“So, that’s it?” Harry rose from his seat on the couch and
approached Charlie.
“Well, yeah. You didn’t think I would force you, did
you?” Charlie asked, looking baffled.
He had assumed that presented with an easy out, Harry would just take it
and run.
“No! I just, well I don’t want things to be . . . weird with us. You’re the closest I’ve been to anyone in a
long time. I don’t want that to
change.” Harry was very intently studying
some point beyond Charlie’s left ear.
Bringing his hand up to direct
Harry’s gaze to his face, Charlie chose his next words carefully. “I told you that you wouldn’t face the
coming months alone. That still stands,
Harry, and it won’t change just because our relationship has. It is very important to me that you
understand that my continued support of you is NOT contingent upon any sort of
physical relationship. I care about
you, Harry. No strings attached.” Charlie studied Harry’s face as if he was
trying to will him to accept the truth of his words. He was stunned when Harry abruptly hugged him, whispering a strangled
“Thank you” in his ear. Charlie was
slightly saddened to realize it was the first contact Harry had initiated with
him on his own.
He stepped back from Harry after
the short embrace. “You’re
welcome. Now lets go see if Mum needs
any help with dinner, alright?” The
brilliant smile he received was almost enough to ease the acute sense of loss
Charlie felt, knowing that when Harry finally gave his heart it would be with
all he had, and that it wouldn’t be for him.
***
3 Weeks Later:
Harry sat despondently at the
kitchen table, rolling the dirty hem of his jumper between his thumb and
forefinger. Grimmauld Place was a
flurry of activity, though Harry found no comfort or distraction in the hectic
flow of people. Nearly the entire Order
was in the house. Some, like himself, were waiting for the meeting to start,
others were taking inventory of damages, and still others were attempting to
help rather than hinder a very overwhelmed Madame Pomfrey.
“Oh, Harry dear, are you
alright?” Madame Pomfrey had been
dashing in and out of the kitchen for the last half hour or so, and given the
number of people that needed her attention, he wasn’t surprised that she had
only now noticed him.
Madame Pomfrey was tapping her foot
and considering Harry with a critical eye.
He was covered head to toe in dirt and grime and there looked to be a
good amount of blood in that mix. It
made it rather difficult to tell if he was seriously injured.
“I’m fine. Nothing that requires any immediate
attention.” In fact the only thing that
Harry thought required immediate attention was his soft warm bed.
A shower might be a good idea as
well.
Madam Pomfrey of course didn’t seem
appeased. “Hmm, you don’t seem very
alert. Turn around.”
She raised her wand and cast a
quick series of diagnostic spells that Harry didn’t recognize.
“Hmm, nothing life threatening, a
few abrasions and lacerations. High
levels of exhaustion, though I suppose that’s all right, considering. Did you take a knock to the head?” Madame Pomfrey cancelled the diagnostic
before it produced a full work-up, adequately satisfied that Harry was in no
immediate danger.
“Yes, I fell back in the
alley.” The throbbing had died down to
a manageable level and Harry hadn’t thought it required immediate
attention. Madame Pomfrey clearly
didn’t agree.
“Look up, and follow the light
please.” Madame Pomfrey cast a blue
glow from the tip of her wand and Harry dutifully followed it right, left,
sideways and in. She seemed satisfied
because she abruptly cancelled the light.
“You’ll live. Do you need anything for the pain, or can
you wait until Professor Snape gets here with a larger supply of potions?” Even as she spoke Madame Pomfrey was taking
an inventory of her pockets.
Harry shook his head, already
reflecting on other aspects of the evening.
“I’m fine, Madame Pomfrey. Do you know if I have time to take a shower
before the meeting starts?”
“Most of the bedrooms are housing
the more seriously injured until I can sort out who needs to be transferred
where, and I just saw Minerva beginning to round up the members who will be
attending the meeting this evening.
It’s probably best just to wait here for now. I don’t think it will be more than a few more minutes.”
Harry merely nodded as she hurried
back out the door, heading for the stairs.
He went back to trying to rub the
grime from the hem of his shirt, but only really succeeded in transferring the
reddish-brown substance to his hands.
It would be another forty-five minutes before the meeting would finally
come to order. It was more than enough
time for Harry to reflect on the night’s events in their entirety.
Earlier that Evening:
Harry had thought that the waiting
was the worst part. Waiting to be old
enough for the Order. Waiting to
finally find out why Voldemort wanted to kill him. Just this evening, the
waiting for his first mission had nearly driven him mad.
In hindsight, I think I
preferred the waiting.
Everything had been arranged down to the last
detail. The Order had planned
meticulously for the retrieval of Hufflepuff’s cup. It was especially important that this retrieval run
smoothly. Whether it had been insanity,
brilliance or just plain cockiness on the part of Voldemort, Harry didn’t
know. What he did know was that
Hufflepuff’s cup was a part of a founders’ display that was brought out of a
Gringott’s vault once every fifteen years or so. The Order had had to plan with a very small window of
opportunity. The display would only be
available to the public for five days before it would go back within
Gringott’s. Everyone had decided that
it would be best to try to make a switch, the real cup for a fake, the night
before the unveiling.
Getting into the Gringott’s lobby
was relatively simple. The owner of the
display, Adrien Carmichael, had insisted on Auror security rather than the
protection Gringott’s had offered. A
rotating Auror guard had been assigned to around-the-clock security for the
antiquities that would be displayed.
There were six Aurors assigned to the night shift; three were assigned
to patrol Diagon Alley and the other three were assigned to the actual
location. They would switch assignments
every two hours. Thankfully Tonks,
Moody and Shacklebolt had managed to get assigned to duty for the evening. Tonks and Shacklebolt were going to take the
first shift on location and would cast a sleep spell on the third Auror, while
Moody would ensure that the two other Aurors patrolling Diagon Alley were well
out of the way.
Order members would be stationed in
the Leaky Cauldron, Ollivander’s, and Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. There would also be several members just on
the inside of Knockturn Alley. The
Order wanted to be prepared in the eventuality that Voldemort decided to
re-claim the cup, and had decided that the extra precautions were worthwhile,
due to the largely public location of the Horcrux.
Everything had initially gone
according to plan...
Harry Apparated with Charlie to the
Leaky Cauldron, where he donned his invisibility cloak and made his way down
towards Gringott’s. Once he was inside,
Tonks and Shacklebolt disabled the extensive wards around the display just long
enough for Harry to slip inside, grab the cup, and replace it with the replica
McGonagall had transfigured using a display advertisement for reference. The three of them then stepped outside to
cast the necessary spells to destroy the cup.
It was then that things quickly got out of hand.
The spells they used to destroy the
cup were too powerful to escape notice if used within Gringott’s, so they had
known from the beginning that they would have to step outside and around the
corner to succeed. What they hadn’t
counted on was the magical flares being spotted from Diagon Alley. When they came back around the corner they
were almost instantly bombarded with hostile spell fire from four Death
Eaters. The commotion of the spell fire
drew another eight Death Eaters out from Gringott’s. They must have slipped in shortly after the Order members had
come out to destroy the cup. Having to
dodge spells and curses quickly separated the three from each other, worsening
their odds. All three of them shot
purple sparks into the air, notifying the rest of the Order that they were
under attack.
Dealing with a crossfire of curses,
Harry looked around for cover, noticing a relatively clear path to an alley
that bordered Flourish & Blott’s.
From there he would be able to gain a covered position and provide
support for Tonks and Shacklebolt, who were not in such a fortunate
position. Firing a rapid string of
hexes at the nearest Death Eater, Harry made a made dash for the alley. He was nearly there when a high-pitched
voice made his blood run cold.
“Crucio!” The spell hit Harry in the back, sending him forcefully into the
alley wall, though he barely registered the pain in his head from the
impact. What felt like an eternity
later the spell was released and a booted foot kicked him over so he was lying
face up.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little
Harry Potter.” Despite the haze of his
pain, Harry recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. “Looks like you’ve lost something,
Potter.” To prove her point she twirled
his wand in her fingers.
Harry could feel desperation
building within him; he’d effectively cornered himself in the alley and had no means
of defending himself. Before he could
try to call out and hope Tonks or Shacklebolt, or any of the Aurors who had to
be arriving, would hear him, Bellatrix raised his own wand against him.
“Crucio!” Beyond his own anguished screams Harry was certain he could hear
her perverted laughter.
The spell was abruptly cancelled,
leaving Harry panting against the wall.
“Poor Potter. Defeated by his own wand. Tsk, Tsk.
You should have been more careful!”
Bellatrix raised his wand again, preparing to cast another Unforgivable,
and in his desperation Harry flung his arms out and shouted the first spell
that came to mind.
“Sectumsempra!” Wild magic erupted from Harry, creating a
huge arc of light rather than the standard stream caused by most spells. The arc impacted a stunned Bellatrix,
sending her arching back into the wall behind her. From the force of the blow and the power of the unfocused spell,
Harry knew she was dead before her body had slumped to the ground. Harry half-crawled and half-hobbled over to
the prone figure, panting as he pushed her corpse aside to retrieve his
wand. The sight of her eviscerated
figure and sightless eyes provoked Harry’s already queasy stomach.
Wiping his mouth on his sleeve,
Harry took a few deep breaths before pushing himself up into a standing
position. He could hear the commotion
coming from the main street and was certain that even as more Order members had
arrived, more Death Eaters had as well.
Steeling himself to enter the fray, he was unprepared for the hand that
landed on his shoulder.
Leaping around and towards the
entrance of the alley did him little good, as the intruder had an iron grip on
his upper arm. Before he could get his
wand arm up Harry felt himself being roughly pushed into the brick wall.
“Have you succeeded?” Snape.
It was Snape. Harry sucked in a
relieved breath.
Shaking him, Snape repeated, “Have
you succeeded? The cup, boy! Did you destroy it?” Snape was peering around the corner
anxiously.
“Y-yes.” His reply was far less determinative than he would have liked.
Snape eyed him critically, glancing
only once to the crumpled woman at their feet.
“Can you Apparate?” Snape was still watching him as if he
expected him to topple over at any moment, which Harry thought was rather silly
considering he’d been standing under his own power for their entire
conversation.
“But the wards...” Most of the
high-traffic public locations throughout the wizarding world had been warded
with anti-Apparation spells in an effort to regulate comings and goings.
“I can bring them down momentarily.
Things are at a stalemate and all parties would do best to leave. I can only disable a section of the wards,
those nearest to Gringott’s. Can you make your way there and Apparate?”
“Yes.” Harry’s answer was solid this time, though Snape still looked
dubious.
“Fine. Head for the front steps, and stay out of sight.” At this Snape handed Harry his invisibility
cloak. Harry was extremely grateful, as he wasn’t sure where he’d lost it. “You should be able to see the wards shimmer
and fall. Apparate away as quickly as
possible, but remember to send up gold sparks before you do.” Prior to the evening’s mission everyone had
agreed that should something happen and people were separated, Harry would send
off gold sparks just prior to any departure to let the Order know he was safely
away.
Harry draped the invisibility cloak
over his head.
“Go now,” Snape whispered urgently.
Harry stepped out and around the
corner, but paused at the devastation laid out before him. Far more Order members and Death Eaters had
arrived than he had originally thought, and neither side seemed to be faring
well. It was only fifty meters or so to
Gringott’s, but Harry had to force his legs to move. More than once he was required to dodge a stray spell or step
over someone lying face down in the street.
He forced himself not to wonder who those people were.
He’d just made it to front of
Gringott’s when he saw Charlie fall to his knees. Harry rushed forward without hesitation, his cloak flying back to
reveal his face. At nearly the same
moment he saw the wards surrounding Diagon Alley fall and heard the distinct
pop of several people Apparating away.
The Death Eater in front of Charlie either didn’t notice or didn’t
care. He raised his wand just as Harry
made it to Charlie’s side.
“Diffindo!” Stepping in front of Charlie, Harry cast the
strongest shielding charm he knew, deflecting the slashing curse back into the
face of the attacker. The Death Eater’s
mask fell away in two halves, exposing what appeared to be the remnants of
McNair.
Harry could do nothing but stare at
the dead man laid at his feet. His
stomach was churning again, whether from McNair’s gruesome face or the fact
that another was dead at his hand, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t even hear Charlie calling his name.
“Harry, we have to go.” Realizing Harry was in no shape to Apparate
himself, Charlie reached for where he thought his wrist to be, shot off gold
sparks and Apparated them to the front of Grimmauld Place.
***
Harry was
exhausted by the time to Order meeting commenced. Tonks, Moody and Snape gave full reports from the events of the
evening (Snape came in looking haggard midway through the meeting) and then at
Moody’s insistence, Harry repeated the evening’s occurrences from his point of
view. Snape was able to confirm the
losses of Bellatrix and McNair.
Though the night had seemed
catastrophic to Harry, the Order had managed with only a few very serious
injuries, and overall Moody seemed pleased.
“The cup was destroyed, and we now
know that Potter is capable of what needs to be done.” Moody sounded confident in Harry’s
abilities, though this didn’t leave the proud or accomplished feeling Harry had
expected. Mostly he just felt tired and
rather ill. He’d still not had time to
shower, though several of the Order members present either had found time or
had used cleaning charms, something Harry hadn’t had the presence of mind to
do.
“If that’s all, Moody, I understand
Madame Pomfrey has removed those needing care to the hospital wing or Saint
Mungo’s. Perhaps we should head to bed.”
Remus rose and came around the corner, offering Harry a hand up. “Why don’t you head up to bed - you look
like you’re ready to drop.”
“Yeah...” A glance out the window
and Harry could see the first pink rays of dawn.
Wonder if Moody’ll let me sleep
in?
A sound thwack on his back nearly
sent Harry sprawling into the door.
“Good work, Potter. See you
tomorrow.” Moody gruffly pushed past
him towards the door.
Harry merely nodded and moved
zombie-like up the stairs.
***
Moody,
you idiot.
Severus sneered at the retreating
figure. They were imbeciles, all of
them.
You all see the evening as a
victory, an assurance. We should all be
more concerned with what we’ve lost.
Severus rose from his seat at the table after nearly
everyone had filed out of the room. He
was bone weary and wanted nothing more than return to his quarters and
re-acquaint himself with his mattress, but there was one more thing he had to
do.
“Good evening, Severus.”
“Lupin.” Severus barely managed to acknowledge the other man as he slipped
up the stairs and into his own room for the remainder of the evening. No, as tired as he was, he couldn’t leave
just yet.
Someone has to ensure Potter
survives this war.
Silently ascending the stairs, Severus cursed the
fact that he was the only one who seemed to have a pulse on Potter’s emotional
state. He took a deep breath before
lightly rapping on Potter’s door.
Getting no response, he slowly pushed open the bedroom door. He strode into the room; saw it was empty,
then moved towards the half-open bathroom door. He could hear the shower running, though it didn’t quite mask the
sound of someone being violently ill.
He sighed.
I’m not cut out for this. Potter, you’d better be decent . . .
***
Harry
had managed to navigate his room well enough and had entered the bathroom,
turning on the shower and waiting for a nice build-up of steam. He was exhausted but just couldn’t face the
idea of a cleaning charm. Pushing the
door halfway closed, he hung his dressing gown on the back. Turning, he caught his reflection in the
mirror for the first time that evening.
He didn’t recognize the face that stared back at him.
He was dirty, had several small
cuts scattered about his face, and just looked old. So much older than the friends that he’d seen just a few weeks
ago.
Is this what it does? Is this who I become, when it’s over, when
they’re dead?
Harry didn’t like the answer
reflected back at him. He’d been
feeling ill all night, and only now did it really occur to him why that might
be.
I killed them. McNair and Bellatrix. I should be happy, pleased at least.
He continued to stare at himself in
the mirror, as if willing himself to believe that he’d taken the first steps
towards success. Everyone else seemed
to think so. Moody had even praised him, so what was the problem?
I don’t feel any better. After everything they’ve done, everyone
they’ve hurt. Neville’s parents,
Sirius...
Harry scrubbed harshly at his face,
smearing dirt and blood across his skin and into his hair. He wanted to feel elation, pride, hell he’d
settle for contentment. They’d deserved
death.
Images of their faces, their
bodies, and their expressions fixed in death flitted through his mind. It was gruesome, and he’d been
responsible. He didn’t think the images
would ever disappear or fade. Falling to his knees before the toilet he lost
the battle with his stomach for the second time that night, and felt tears burn
his eyes.
What’s wrong with me?
He barely registered the presence
that moved into the room and turned off the shower.
***
Severus
moved into the room, picking up and soaking a small towel in the shower before
turning off the water. He spelled the
cloth cool then turned to Harry, who had his forehead resting on the toilet
seat. Not having a better idea of how
to approach the situation, he set the cloth down on the counter and hooked his
arms under Harry’s armpits, hoisting him up and directing him to sit on the
shower ledge. Closing the lid of the
toilet and ridding it of its contents, he took a seat facing Harry.
Severus was strongly reminded of a
situation years ago not unlike this one.
Albus had treated Severus with such care at a time when Severus hadn’t
deserved it. Knowing that he now had an
opportunity to pass on Albus’ kindness, Severus reached out to the young man
before him. Pulling Harry’s chin up, he
was met with startled, moist, green eyes that closed at the first touch of the
wet cloth to his face. As gently as he
was capable of, he cleaned the face before him, maintaining his silence
throughout the entire process. Just
when he thought he’d have to start the conversation, Harry began talking.
***
Harry was
startled when a firm grasp helped move him to a sitting position on the ledge
of the shower. He was shocked when a
hand on his chin directed his gaze up into the unreadable face of Severus
Snape. Though his first instinct was to
jerk away and wipe his eyes, the touch of a cool cloth to his face stilled his
panic. Though the cloth sometimes
caught on a small cut or scrape, eliciting a small wince, overall the actions
were gentle and soothing. Though he’d
never be sure if it was due to his exhaustion or the gentle ministrations, he
started to talk.
“I killed them.” It was a statement and neither took it as
anything but.
“Yes.” The simple affirmation didn’t bother him as much as Moody’s
praise had.
“I see them, their bodies . . .
like Cedric, only worse.” And it was;
he knew that their gruesome deaths would haunt him in a way Cedric’s hadn’t.
“It won’t go away…” He didn’t need
to clarify what he meant. Snape could
vividly remember the face of the first person he’d ever killed in this war.
“No.” Harry hung his head, burdened to hear what he already knew to be
true. Snape stood up, conjured a glass
and filled it with water, adding a potion before handing it to Harry.
The water cooled his sore throat
and left a light, minty aftertaste.
Snape resumed his seat and for the first time Harry truly considered
him. Not knowing quite what to make of
the man before him, he directed his gaze to the floor and turned the glass in
his hands.
“Drink; it will calm your
stomach.” They sat in silence for a
while longer before Snape realized he was going to have to direct the
conversation if he wanted to see his bed anytime soon.
“You did as you had to, in defense
of yourself and people you care about.”
“It doesn’t make it feel any
better,” Harry sighed.
“That’s what will set you apart
from those you fight, Potter.”
“The others - Moody - they were
proud when you told them. Proud I had
killed…” His voice sounded agonized by the admission.
“They were pleased your training
had blossomed at a crucial moment.”
Snape’s voice was flat but Harry was too tired to try to decide whether
he was insincere or not.
“They will expect me to do it
again…”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know that I can . . . I
didn’t like it. . . ” Harry sounded as confused as Snape felt.
“Did you expect that you
would?” Snape held his breath, waiting
for the answer.
“No, but the thought of doing it
again - I don’t know that I could . . . and I know that I have to.” Harry knew he probably wasn’t making much
sense, but he was confused and more than a little scared. He had to be able to kill Voldemort. There was no other way.
“You can; you will.” Snape’s reply was so simple and so honest
that Harry was taken by surprise.
“How can you know? I could freeze
up; I could fail; what if all I can think about in that moment is their
faces?” Harry met Severus’ gaze,
searching for an answer.
“I know because in that moment all
you will know is that if you don’t, the people you love, the people who stand
with you - Lupin, the Weasleys, Miss Granger - they will all perish should you
not act, should you fail. And
Gryffindor that you are, you will not allow that to occur.”
Thank God.
“Besides, no one said you had to
use a dark curse to kill him.” Harry
looked confused so Snape continued.
“Look to your strengths, Potter.
You have a vast library in this old house and enough people with whom to
discuss your options.”
It was the most comfort Harry could
have hoped to receive, and it confused him.
“I think it was easier to hate
you.” And Harry knew beyond a doubt
that it was the truth. Hatred was far simpler than anything else he’d ever be
able to feel towards this man.
“I don’t understand why you would
look out for me, after . . . everything.”
He didn’t understand Snape, but he’d be eternally grateful for tonight,
and for the fact that he’d interfered with Charlie.
“Mr. Potter, I think we can both
agree that our past history is not conducive to obtaining our desired
future.” The remark was pure Snape,
arched eyebrow and all.
“I guess not.”
“You should shower and change. I will leave you some muscle relaxant on
your nightstand, it should let you sleep.”
Snape stood and moved toward the door.
“Thank you.” It was the strangest encounter Harry had
ever had, and though he was still exhausted and more than a little confused, he
felt like he could manage.
After a long shower Harry reclined
on his mattress and downed the vial of muscle relaxant Snape had left him. He was asleep nearly immediately. He’d never remember the dark silhouette that
looked in on him a few minutes later and approached to cover him with the warm
duvet. Nor would he remember the first
of many dreams of a dark man smelling vaguely of clove.
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