All That You Leave Behind

From the two 'needy loons', thank you to our reviewers! It's lucky for 'Holly' that we are both self-confident and possessed of good senses of humour, although why she thought it was appropriate to chide us for "cussing" a reader when she herself was far more rude than we were is beyond us both. Perhaps she feels that it's only readers who have the right to have feelings. After all, why would we be upset at our work being called "soap opera-like" and then having some random reader decide to defend the original comment by insulting us? Oh, and threatening violence too. No, that's not on, Holly. We are not needy loons who need a good slap, we are two people who spend HOURS trying to make each chapter as good as it can be, and don't appreciate being slagged off. Concrit we'll happily take, it's welcomed, but be forewarned, outright flames, threats of violence, and all random insults will be pointed out and highlighted in future AN's to be laughed at heartily!



Chapter 72



Harry woke the next morning, his heart and mind heavy. More than anything he wished for this day to be over, dread pounding through him like a tidal wave. Today was Severus' funeral, and of course they wanted him to speak. He didn't know how he was going to do that when he feared opening his mouth would only bring forth a flood of tears.


Wearily, he dragged his body up to sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his heavy head in his hands. He took deep breaths, trying to steady his nerves and keep his stomach from emptying itself onto the floor between his feet. He could hear the faint sounds of Ginny, in the kitchen with James, trying to coax him into eating his porridge, and closed his eyes, willing himself to get up and begin this godforsaken day.


Eventually he convinced his body to rise and take itself into the bathroom where he stripped off and stood under the shower, letting the hot water sluice over him, but he gave up hoping that it would somehow warm the coldness that seemed to have seeped into every pore of his body. He didn't know how long he stood there; until he became aware that the water on his face was warmer than the water streaming down his body. He realised he was leaking again, that it was tears bathing his face and not the water of the shower, which had gone cold enough to match the chill inside him.


He turned off the taps and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying his face. He closed his eyes and mentally shook himself. Severus, he thought, you would sneer at me, wouldn't you? For feeling so gutted over you being.....gone. You'd tell me to buck up, act like the hero I'm supposed to be........only........I'm not the hero, Sev. I never have been.


Harry bit the inside of his lip harshly, refusing to let the tears overcome him again, yet finding himself helpless against wallowing inside in his grief. He took a shaky breath, wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped over to the sink. He brushed his teeth fiercely, concentrating on that one task, until his gums were raw and he made himself stop. Deliberately, he put down his toothbrush and picked up his shaving brush, attacking the soap in its mug, beating it into a frothy lather, which he then smeared over his face. He picked up his razor, preparing to shave, and stopped to stare at the blade as it neared his jaw.


It would be so easy. Just one swipe and......together forever.


He stared at the glinting blade.


It would burn, like a cutting spell, but maybe then this dreadful coldness that filled him would finally ease.


You stupid, stupid boy. That dark voice, silky in its contempt, wormed its way into the back of his mind. When will you ever learn to see what is right in front of your face? I did not sacrifice everything simply for you to throw it all away in a moment of maudlin sentimentality. Or did you actually think your wife and child would be better off without you?


Haven't we been selfish enough?


The razor clattered into the sink, and Harry gasped, gripping the edges of the sink, appalled at what he'd nearly done, tears burning tracks through the now stiff lather on his face.


"I can't do this," he whispered. "Not without you. I want you here, alive!. You've always been here for me. I....I don't know how to live without you!"


He stood there and let his tears run their course, tired of fighting them, dreading having to get up in front of a crowd of people to speak about his lost lover, afraid of what may come of out of his own mouth, afraid more of having to face a life without him.


Who was he fooling? Ginny was right. It was more than just having lost his lover. He'd just been playing at being an adult, and now that the time had come that he had to be an adult, to face a world that expected so much from him without Severus.....Severus who had always been there to guide him.


Immersed in the sea of his grief, Harry noticed nothing until the tingle of magic broke him from his own mind, his face now smooth and cleanshaven. He felt a reassuring arm slide around his waist, solid against him, and he felt grateful for the grounding it offered.


"I know how difficult this is for you, Harry. I know you don't want to do this, but it's time to get ready. James and I are all set, and I've laid out your formal Auror's robes. I think you should wear them. Severus was so proud of you becoming an Auror, and he was so happy to be a part of that in teaching at the Ministry," Ginny murmured next to his ear. He looked at her helplessly, grateful again, for her direction.


"It'll be alright, Harry," she said firmly. "I'll be right there with you."


******************************************************


Lucius Malfoy guided his wife into a seat, then took one for himself beside her, nodding at Draco and Astoria as they sat to his left. He straightened his robes about himself and rested his hands one atop the other, on the silver snakehead grip of his cane. "All right, my dear?" he enquired politely of his wife, and then turned his attention to the mourners surrounding him.


There was Shacklebolt, resplendent in his formal ministerial robes, his face grimly set as he waited to begin the ceremony. Pathetic, really, Lucius thought, hand straying to pluck an invisible thread from his ridiculously expensive robes, the best the Ministry has to offer, wearing cut price robes, and without a clue as to whom the real perpetrator is. He schooled his face into a suitably solemn expression, but smirked internally.


Lucius' cold grey eyes flitted over the crowd. None of these people had had any interest in the man whilst he lived, and none really cared now that he is gone. Like me, they're here to be seen to do the right thing. I, of course, have an excellent reason for being here. I do so enjoy the irony of Severus' murderer sitting boldly amongst the grieving crowd, clueless idiots that they are. He stifled a yawn, then sat up more alertly as the tension in the crowd heightened. Ah, the Potter brat. Should have known. He saw the black head, the only smudge in a sea of ginger. Another family to be seen, the blood traitors, the lot of them, supporting their little saviour. As though it matters, he smirked, or can make any difference. Still, let them have their moment. Snape is gone, and....my, my, Potter does look upset.


Yes, yes, Lucius thought impatiently, only half listening to Shacklebolt drone on about Severus' "virtues". His attention was absorbed by the distraught Potter and his oh-so-comforting little wife.


Oh dear, the brat does seem quite upset. Hmm, the Weasley she-rat seems still by his side, so I can only assume that young Mr. Potter has not shared with her the dirty, dirty things Severus did to him. Sullying our wonderful saviour. Such a shame that only Potter got to experience that talented, traitorous tongue. Hmm, would the Daily Prophet welcome an exclusive insight into the old war hero's true nature? Lucius thought viciously to himself.


".....a few words from the man who knew Severus best. Harry Potter." Lucius sat up even straighter, his attention caught by Shacklebolt's introduction of Potter. Knew him best indeed, Lucius smirked silently.


Harry stood, reluctantly letting go of Ginny's hand, and made his way up to the podium. He pointedly looked away from the grim spectre of the gleaming ebony casket, trying not to think of Severus lying lifeless within.


He gripped the sides of the podium, trying to quell the shaking in his hands and the clog of tears in his throat, looking out at the sea of faces turned toward him expectantly. I can't do this....I can't do this his inner voice chanted in betrayal. He took a deep breath, vainly struggling with the lump in his throat, not knowing what to say. He loved him? He missed him? He didn't think he could live without him? He heard Kingsley discreetly clear his own throat, and searched desperately for Ginny's familiar face. The only comfort he had now.


She nodded to him, clutching an oblivious James in her lap, and he found some tiny measure of strength in her actions. There were so many things he could say about Severus, so many things he wished he could shout out about the man he loved. How tenderly he'd held him, how safe he'd felt in his arms, how very loved he'd felt nestled in their bed, but none of these people wanted to hear him, their saviour, say such things. And Ginny, he couldn't hurt Ginny like that.


Lucius rolled his eyes as Harry just stood there, clutching desperately at the lecturn. Sweet Merlin! Is he ever intending to speak? Or does he intend to milk every last second of attention like the whore he is?


Suddenly, Harry knew what he could say, something that told of all his feelings, and would not betray himself, or Ginny.


"S-Severus Snape......." Harry began, hoping he could get it out before his tears overtook him again. "He.......he was my hero."


Dear Agrippa! Lucius thought, who would have realised that The Boy Who Lived was such a dullard? Does the brat have an original thought in his head? Snape was his hero!? Could anything be more cliched? No doubt next he'll say how Snape was a great man and he'll be sorely missed.


Lucius turned his attention back to the younger man. Apparently, Harry was unable to say anything further, because he merely shook his head, eyes swimming with tears. That was it? He got to part your delicate thighs and bugger you, and all you could say was that?! He corrupted the incorruptable....well, the not so incorruptable...and the best you can do is mouth platitudes? Poor Severus! So easily forgotten! No lasting legacy, nothing to connect you to your pathetic, whiny "lover". Nothing except his mealy-mouthed declaration of his esteem. Oh how the mighty have fallen, my dear Severus! Lucius fought to keep his expression neutral, even as Kingsley stepped forward, one hand patting Harry's heaving shoulder.


"Severus Snape," Kingsley said solemnly, "was a great man..." Lucius rolled his eyes, and mouthed the last few words with Shacklebolt, "and will be sorely missed."


Lucius sighed disgustedly, and then turned in surprise upon hearing a quiet sniffling from his left. He saw his son surreptiously stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket, and felt a momentary twinge of rage. His son, crying over Potter's pathetic excuse for a hero?! Still....his rage faded in the face of the memory of Severus sheltering Draco after he failed the Dark Lord. He'd kept him safe, he couldn't deny that, although it was probably the only useful thing he'd managed in his worthless, traitorous life.


The boy's tears were for Snape, he knew it, not Potter. Lucius would not tolerate Draco crying for Potter, not the one who had scarred his beautiful boy for life. It was Potter's turn to suffer, Draco would get over Severus' death. Potter never would, Lucius would see to it.


He carefully schooled his features into one of compassion, and put an understanding hand on his son's shoulder. He could only just abide Draco grieving over Severus. The boy could keep his delusions.


For now.


***************************************



Harry waited until the other mourners had left the graveside, wanting a few moments by himself, even though he was unable to bear the thought of Severus in the cold, dark ground.


Only one figure remained, the bright blonde head bowed, the lips moving silently as a last goodbye was murmured. Harry approached Draco Malfoy quietly, and stood a tiny bit off to the side, waiting.


"He wasn't only your hero, Potter," Draco said so suddenly and so quietly that at first Harry thought he'd only imagined it. "He saved me too. He kept me from making the biggest mistake of my life. If....if it weren't for him, I'd be rotting in Azkaban now, a murderer, instead of waiting for my son to be born. He showed me that there was a way to make a life after the war, a way to be who I wanted to be, not who everyone expected me to be."


Harry nodded, the truth of those quiet words hitting him solidly in his stomach. Severus had shown him how to make his way after the war too. Just because he hadn't been on the 'losing' side hadn't made it any easier. And now Severus was gone. Who was going to show him the way now?


Draco lifted his head, his grey eyes meeting Harry's green. Harry moved forward to stand near Draco, looking down at Severus' grave. After a few silent moments, Draco glanced up, tears in his eyes, "Take care of yourself, Potter," he said softly before stepping away from the graveside.


Startled, Harry eyes shot up. "You too, Malfoy."


Harry watched Draco walk away, his surprise at Draco's words still drifting through him. He watched the pale figure make its careful way through the gravestones, and his eye was caught by another flash of bright blonde hair. Lucius Malfoy, and Harry was rudely surprised this time. He hadn't realised the man was present. The elder Malfoy saw him gaping at him and nodded, his face pulled into a falsely solemn expression. His cold grey eyes, however, hinted at malice simmering just under the surface. Harry shuddered faintly, remembering Severus' words from long ago about how Lucius would cut out the heart of his own mother if he thought it would benefit him. He glanced uneasily at the man again, as he stood waiting for his son, and again shuddered. He also recalled Severus' words about Lucius trying to twist Harry's life debt to Narcissa to his own advantage.


Draco, however........ It wasn't the first time Harry had found himself feeling sorry for him for having such a father to contend with. Harry believed Severus' long ago words about the war not having changed Lucius, but he found he could no longer quite believe the same about Draco. They would most likely never be friends, but Harry no longer really believed that Draco Malfoy was as evil as his father. Lucius. There would never be anyone quite like Lucius. Harry was sure of it.


Lucius watched Draco approach, keeping his face carefully solemn and neutral, even though he was dying to know what the exchange between his son and Potter had been about. Draco reached him, and Lucius could tell that he had been crying again. He tamped down his ire at his progeny's too public display of emotion, and put a falsely comforting hand on his shoulder. "Have a nice chat with Potter?" he ground out through clenched teeth, fetching up a concerned smile.


Draco, aware of his father's annoyance with him, probably over his crying, replied grimly, "Don't worry, Father. I haven't spilled any family secrets."


"Now, now, Draco," Lucius chided, "I was only curious. After all, you and he aren't exactly friends are you?"


Draco sighed, knowing Lucius wouldn't give up until he told. "No, I suppose we're not. I simply told him to take care of himself, and he said the same in return. Such are the pearls of wisdom spewing from Ferret and Scarhead. Satisfied, Daddy dear?" Draco said venomously. "Can we leave, please? Astoria has already gone, and I don't like to leave her alone in her condition."


Lucius bit back his temper at his son's impertinence, allowing it in view of Draco's grief over Severus, and because he desperately didn't want to exacerbate the animosity between them. One day Draco would understand that everything Lucius did, he did for him. Swallowing his own scathng reply, he smoothed his features into one of calm and concern and said, "Of course, Draco. You are right. Astoria and your heir. They are what is most important. After all, we cannot jeopardise the future of the Malfoy line, can we?"


"Of course not, Father," Draco sighed wearily, rolling his eyes, "of course not."


*******************************

Remember...

Concrit & encouragement = YES, please!!

Flames, violence & insults = us singling you out to laugh at!