All That You Leave Behind

Thank you, as always, to our reviewers, Tambrathegreat, CruciareMors, DarklessVasion, Quazi, Plague_rose, and Talonora!

Quazi-we will finish this story, nothing could stop us!

Bookworm, no, we are not being overly sensitive. We are, justifiably, annoyed that someone who is reading our story has forgotten what we said in the very first AN we posted -that the story is thoroughly plotted. We do not put things in just to be interesting, we have had everything plotted before hand, and if it ends at an interesting point, that actually means we're doing our job WELL, not badly. Besides, constructive criticsm, which we're sure you thought you gave, should be, as the term suggests, CONSTRUCTIVE. We'd love to hear your thoughts on how we could improve our story? Maybe, tell you everything that's going to happen? Thus erasing the need to read it at all? Make it boring?

So, dear readers, what do you reckon? Should we put it to the vote? Do you want to know what's going to happen? Have the answers to all the questions you've asked us so far? Or would you rather continue the journey, discovering things in your own way? Let us know please! Last time we checked, this was HARRY POTTER fan fic. You know, seven books. And I think you'd have been rightly pissed had someone told you how it all ended without letting you discover it for yourself. But hey, what do we know? According to Bookworm, we're soap opera writers. Yes, Bookworm, we DO find that term offensive. And whether you meant it to be offensive or not, we find it so, so please don't use it again.

Having got that off our chests, here's the next chapter.....


Chapter 71




Harry woke from the dream with a shudder, his eyes flying open, coming to focus on his own moonlit bedroom. He'd dreamt he was being held, safe and warm, strong arms about him, and then suddenly he was falling, falling....he shuddered again.


A soft noise behind him made him turn over, and he saw his wife. Her long red hair trailed over her face and shoulders, pooling between her breasts, and he reached out to touch a finger to her cheek, carefully drawing back her hair. Momentarily she turned toward his finger, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep, then settled again, her breath surging quietly. He hoped her dreams were more peaceful than his.


After lying there watching her sleep a few more moments, Harry carefully slid out of bed, grabbing his glasses as he did, and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. He then quietly padded out into the corridor, studiously ignoring the closed door across from him, and padded off to James' room.


He stood over the small cot for several moments, watching his sleeping son after tucking his blanket more securely around him. He marvelled at the tiny perfection that was James, the pudgy little hands, the lashes that caressed his round cheeks, and wondered what his new son would look like.


His new son. Who would be named Albus. Harry felt a pang in his heart and a telltale sting in his eyes. Severus' last request. To name his son Albus. After the man who had been a father figure to them both. Harry, not sure he could contain the tears that threatened to overtake him, turned and quietly left, not wanting to disturb James' innocent dreams.


Out in the corridor once again, his mind directed him toward the kitchen and a calming cup of tea, but he couldn't ignore any longer the pull of that closed door at his heart. Swallowing his tears, he quietly padded back down the corridor, opened the door and slipped inside, closing it silently behind him. He paused for a moment and then swiftly walked though to the closed door off the living room, stepping inside Severus' potions lab.


He was at once assailed by a tide of emotion. The pungent scent of potions ingredients was both comforting and heartwrenching. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, hot trails of tears seeping out and wetting his cheeks, but this time he did not try to hold them back.


"I'm so sorry, Severus," he whispered to the room. "I know you....would tell me.....to be strong.....and I'm trying, but......." The lump in his throat wouldn't let him continue, and he paused momentarily before taking a deep, shaky breath and trying to rein in his tears. "You...." he gulped, "you would tell me not to grieve for you....you would tell me t-to...be grateful for what we had and.....move on with my life.....and I know I should." He took another deep breath, trying to will his tears to stop. 'I love Ginny and James. They're everything to me. B-but so were you and your funeral is tomorrow and they want me to speak, and........all I really want to do is lie down and die too." He slid down the door, put his head on his knees and gave himself over to the luxury of sobbing his heart out, wishing desperately for Severus to appear and tell him to stop being a whiny brat. To face up to his responsibility. To be a man. Anything to hear the beloved voice again.


He allowed himself a few moments to wallow in his grief, and then got up, wiping his face and gulping in deep breaths. He waved his hand and the low burning lights that Severus had always kept lit flickered out, and Harry slipped out of the lab, still wiping tears from under his glasses.


He moved through Severus' rooms, rooms they had both spent so many happy hours in. Rooms in which Severus had lived, had made his own, rooms in which he'd made Harry his own. He sighed as he looked at the sofa, remembering sitting there with Severus, wrapped protectively in his arms, in their own little world, untouchable for a few hours.


He moved over toward the bookcases that lined the room, running his fingers over Severus' books. Some were ancient and worn, their leather bindings soft with age, some were new and smooth, the leather of their bindings still stiff and shiny. All were treasured, Harry knew. He remembered how Severus' long, rough fingers had handled them, much how he'd handled Harry, with reverence and care, to be opened and explored, and he felt another lurch in his heart.


He walked through the rooms, his fingers trailing over the furniture and accoutrements. Severus' things, each thing he touched conjuring up yet another memory, both paining and comforting him at the same time, until he finally arrived at the doorway to Severus' bedroom.


Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding madly, Harry opened the door and stepped inside.


The large bed was unmade, blankets and sheets still mussed and twisted, the remains of great passion and a hasty exit. The memory of what they'd been doing when Kingsley's call came slammed into Harry with enough force to make him waver on his feet. They'd been making love, had just finished, and now that would never happen again.


Never again would he lie in that bed. Be safe in that bed. Make love in that bed. Never again would they warm those sheets with their bodies and the heat of their coupling. Never again would Harry clutch that headboard and scream out his ecstasy. Feel Severus enter him, claim him, possess him.


Harry staggered over to the bed, his eyes blinded by his tears, and fell to his knees beside it, clutching the sheets, burying his face in them. He cried into them silently, wetting them with the tears of his loss, his mind screaming "No, no, no!" over and over. Severus' scent wafted out of the sheets, surrounding him. Enveloping him as the man himself would never do again, and again Harry wanted to lay down and die in his grief.


He cried silently until he had no tears left, his throat raw and painful, his body limp and drained. He slumped against the side of the bed, pulling the sheets down around himself, trying desperately to find some comfort in the fast fading scent of his Severus.


After what seemed like an eternity and the sheets were cold and damp against his face, Harry stood again, replacing the sheets on the bed. He knew in his heart that Severus would not want this from him. He had to be strong. Had to be. He walked around to Severus' side of the bed and stopped. His pillow still held the indent of his head, and Harry carressed it lightly with his fingers for a moment, then leaned down and buried his face in it. "I love you, Severus. I always will," he whispered, then turned and left.


He was walking back through the sitting room when a shuffling noise made him stop. He turned and was startled to see the faint outline of his wife curled up in a corner of the sofa. His heart immediately began to pound in panic at the thought of her knowing where he'd just been. He stood there uncertainly for a moment, but she seemed not to notice him.


He had no idea of how long she'd been sitting there, and part of him wanted to run, afraid she'd ask him what he was doing in Severus' bedroom for so long, but he couldn't leave her just sitting there alone. He was standing there, considering what to do, when she spoke up.


"When I woke and you weren't in bed, or in James' room I thought you might be here," she said, her voice as hollow and empty as he felt. "I know how much he meant to you. I know how much you miss him."


"I...I just...." Harry stammered. 'I couldn't sleep, and..."


"I miss him too," Ginny said mournfully. "He was always just so.....there. Solid. Something you could count on, you know?"


"Yeah, I do," Harry said, going to sit next to her.


She swiped a hand over her cheek, and he realised that she'd been crying too. "Gin...I...I..." he gulped, wanting to comfort her, but not sure he could in his broken state.


"Do you feel scared, Harry?" she asked, "I do. His being gone....it makes me feel like.....like a little girl again. A little girl who's lost her father and.....doesn't know what to do. Severus.....I never realised how much he.......guided us, Harry, how much he made me feel like we weren't just stupid kids who don't know what we're doing. I....I feel like....we're so young, you and me, and.....now we don't have anyone to show us what to do anymore. Like we were just.....playing at being adults......and now we really have to be adults.....cause we've lost our.....t-teacher."


Harry stared at her in the gloom, and all at once his heart opened to her. He gathered her up and held her tightly, his own tears falling to mix with hers.


"W-We'll learn it together, Gin," he whispered to her.


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