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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Harry jerked away, his face suddenly burning. Severus straightened slowly, not wanting to give the impression that he had been committing an illicit act. So what if he’d been close enough to kiss Harry? He was unlikely to do so, given the circumstances.
But where was Miss Lovegood? Their surroundings showed only themselves for miles in either direction.
Then the Ravenclaw girl appeared as if from nowhere. Her head showed first, then the rest of her as her hand peeled away the Invisibility Cloak. She stood in the path left by their footprints. No wonder Severus hadn’t noticed her. Still, he could have kicked himself for being caught unaware.
“Miss Lovegood. Were you spying on us?” he asked coolly.
“No. Hermione noticed you two were gone and was worried about you. She asked me to bring you the Invisibility Cloak. But I thought you’d be all right without it,” she said cheerfully.
“Then why were you hidden under it?” Harry demanded, his face still suffused with pink.
“I was trying to avoid the Wrackspurts. The Nargles might not be a danger but the Wrackspurts are very persistent beasties.”
Severus shot a glance at Harry. The younger man responded with a subtle headshake. Don’t ask.
“In that case, I’ll take my leave of you both. Good day.” He nodded stiffly to Luna and walked with a ramrod-straight spine back to the house.
Harry bit his lip as he followed Snape with his eyes. Snape looked…it was hard to put his finger on it. But he acted like Luna had intruded on an intimate moment. But she hadn’t. Not really. It wasn’t as if the man had been about to kiss him.
He thought of how Snape had leaned over him and how different this man had looked up close from the stern taskmaster he remembered. His face was fuller without the gaunt look that made the other Snape look so vulture-like. He was still lean, but not bony. His face had been tinged with pink too. Some of it might have been from the sea air but Harry didn’t think so.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Hermione this Snape didn’t look so hostile as the man he’d known for almost seven years. There wasn’t that perpetual frown that pulled his face into ugly lines or that permanent crease between his brows. This man looked very contented, if tense with worry over Voldemort.
And just now, the fierceness on the Potion master’s face when he’d declared how he would do his best to save Harry had been so powerful. Harry had been shaken by it. He hadn’t heard such protectiveness from anyone since before Sirius died.
But Luna had spoken up before things could have progressed further. Not that Harry wanted them to progress. He was saving himself for Ginny. How could he do otherwise after that kiss she’d given him?
If he made it out of this alive – and hadn’t he Snape’s assurance that he would? – he and Ginny were going to get married and raise a big, happy family like the Weasleys. It was what he had wanted since he had looked into the Mirror of Erised and no sudden confusion by his former Potions teacher or someone who looked like him was going to stand in the way of achieving that.
All this flashed through his mind in the brief moments following Severus’s departure. Now Luna was ambling towards him the Cloak bundled under her arm and he dreaded what she might have to say about what she saw. “Harry, I want to talk to you some more about the Hallows.”
He grasped at this change in subject with relief. Hopefully, Luna hadn’t noticed anything weird between him and Snape. “You do? Don’t you want to discuss this with the others too?”
“Hermione is too close-minded and Ron would side with her because he doesn’t want to upset his girlfriend. You don’t want to involve Bill, Fleur and Dean so they don’t need to know. But I think it’s important, so you should hear it.”
She handed him the Cloak, hunkered down on the sand and picked up a stick of driftwood. “The Hallows consist of three items: the Elder Wand” – she drew a straight line in the sand – “the Resurrection Stone” – she drew a circle around the line so it was neatly bisected – “and the Cloak that shields from Death.” Around both symbols she drew a triangle.
“Viktor Krum saw your dad wearing that at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He was pretty upset about it. He said it was Grindelwald’s symbol.”
She shook her head. “The symbol is in Durmstrang, all right, put there by Grindelwald himself. But it existed long before he was born. The Questers say it’s the symbol of the Hallows and all of them wear it. It’s how people like my father recognize each other.”
“Questers?”
“People devoted to finding the Hallows. Whoever is said to possess all three Hallows becomes the master of death. So the search for them has been very intense among our circle. Tales of the Elder Wand, a.k.a. Deathstick, Unbeatable Wand, Cursed Wand, et cetera, run down through history. The original Peverell brothers…”
“The Peverells?” Harry exclaimed. “I know that name! They were in the same graveyard my parents were buried in!”
She nodded. “The Peverell name has long since died out. But they were the original owners of the Hallows. The Elder Wand got passed to whatever wizard was strong or clever enough to seize it. The Stone and the Cloak, however, got handed down through the generations. It’s unlikely the Peverell descendants would let go of such vital treasures. They would have been passed down from father to son, mother to daughter.”
Harry stared at the symbol in the sand. It was even more familiar than the Peverell name. He was sure he’d seen it somewhere else, before the wedding. “What does the Stone look like? Is it big as a fist or an egg or…”
Luna shrugged. “I don’t know. Stories about it vary. But the Cloak is easier to describe. It’s your basic Invisibility Cloak, only this one would never wear out, never get torn or faded with time like all the others.”
“Invisibility Cloaks wear out?”
“Of course they do. They’re hard to make so they’re really expensive. That means they’re made to last. But the magic on them gets worn out, sooner or later. The cloth tears, even with the strongest protection spells. In time, bits and pieces fray away, exposing the wearer, and it has to be thrown out for a new one. But my father believes there is a Cloak out there that would never get worn out, that is capable of repelling all spells laid on it.”
“Luna, how long do most cloaks last?” he asked carefully, while his mind raced. It couldn’t be what he was thinking…could it?
She considered, the wind making her blonde hair blow across her bulging eyes. “About five years. Shorter if the owner uses it a lot.”
A Cloak that would never wear out. A Cloak that would never tear, unravel or fade. A Cloak that would withstand being passed around like a common piece of clothing and would repel all spells thrown against it, even the Killing Curse. An enchanted Cloak passed down from mother to daughter, father to son. Harry suddenly shivered and it wasn’t the wind from the ocean that caused it.
His Invisibility Cloak was a Hallow. It had to be.
Could he be descended from…a Peverell? A Peverell bother was laid in the same cemetery as his father and mother. The wizarding community had always been a small one. What was it Sirius Black had said? When you were determined to marry only purebloods, there wasn’t a large variety to choose from. So all the purebloods were related to each other in some way.
Think of the poor Gaunts, so determined to have only purebloods in the family that they’d taken to marrying their cousins. And what had all their narrow-minded pride come down to? A filthy hut, a couple of inbred children, one of whom would give birth to the murderous and crazed Tom Riddle, and a pair of heirlooms woefully out of place in all…
“Marvolo’s ring!” Harry blurted.
Luna never even blinked. “Who’s Marvolo?”
“He’s the maternal grandfather of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man who became Vol- uh, You-Know-Who. He had two heirlooms, ones he claimed had been in his family for generations – a locket he said came from Salazar Slytherin himself and a ring with a black stone in it. I saw it later, completely destroyed, in Dumbledore’s office. But the stone was missing from it.” He stopped speaking and his eye caught Luna’s.
“And you think that stone is the Resurrection Stone.” She stated it simply, without Hermione’s dismissal or Ron’s disbelief.
Now that it was said out loud, it didn’t seem so credible. Harry hedged, “It…could be, I suppose. Maybe I’m just grasping at straws.”
“No, it makes sense. Omens and signs are converging. You-Know-Who is seeking the Deathstick, thinking it will make him invincible against you. You have the Cloak – yes, I figured that out, thank you. And the Stone was last seen in a ring. If the Headmaster had that ring, then he must have taken the Stone out. Any idea where it would be now?”
“No.” Harry scratched at his head while he thought it over. “It would be in something small, something easily overlooked so no one else would find it.”
His Snitch. Why else would Dumbledore leave him such a sentimental, useless piece of his childhood? Scrimgeour had been right to be suspicious about it, even if he couldn’t have guessed its true significance.
So he had two of the Hallows…and Voldemort was seeking the third, the most powerful. If he got his hands on it, Harry was dead meat for sure.
“I’m in big trouble, aren’t I? The Deathstick must exist and You-Know-who is searching for it.”
“He hasn’t got it yet, has he? You said Grindelwald told him he didn’t have it.” Luna stood up, brushing the sand from her knees.
“What if he lied?” Harry said flatly. “Face facts. Grindelwald wasn’t what you’d call the most trustworthy bloke in the world, was he? He must have been searching for the Hallows, too. That’s why he made that symbol his own. He was power-hungry when he was no older than me and he became the mightiest wizard of his age. How could he have done that without the Elder Wand?”
“But he was defeated by Dumbledore, wasn’t he?” Luna pointed out.
That he had been. And if the wand had passed from Grindelwald with his defeat, that meant the third Hallow…was now in Dumbledore’s hand. His cold, dead hand.
Had anyone checked Dumbledore’s wand before laying him in the ground? Had anybody even bothered to see what it was made of or ask him while he was alive? Probably not. You didn’t question the greatest wizard living about his wand like he was a kid fresh out of Ollivander’s shop.
How the hell could Dumbledore have sent him on such a wild goose chase when he’d had the Elder Wand in his grasp? Had he been consumed by power the way he had been as a teenager, too greedy with it to allow him to share with Harry?
But Voldemort hadn’t figured it out yet. Incredibly, he had taken Grindelwald’s jeering statement at face value, never dreaming the ancient prisoner could have lied to him. He was stymied and that meant they had time.
For an insane moment, Harry was tempted to forget about the Horcruxes. It would be easy enough to sneak back to Hogwarts, open Dumbledore’s final resting place and seize the wand. With the Elder Wand in his possession, he could face down a dozen Voldemorts.
The Slytherin snake had feared the former Headmaster, hadn’t he? He’d been the one wizard that noseless bastard had been afraid to face. Sure, the Elder Wand had gone flying out of Dumbledore’s hand that night on the tower. But, if he’d still had it, would Snape have been able to kill him so easily?
“Harry, do you trust Professor Snape?”
The question jolted him out of his feverish imaginings. “What?”
“Do you trust him?”
“Well, I trust this one,” Harry clarified.
“Good. I know he’ll do his best to protect you, especially since he’s very fond of you.”
“He’s…WHAT?!?”
“You didn’t notice? He’s been giving you all these tender looks when he thinks you’re not watching.”
Harry gaped. This was the looniest thing she could have said to him and it drove all thought of the Elder Wand from his mind. “Luna, you’re…that’s cracked! Snape and I barely get along.”
“That was the old Snape. When he had us in detention, he spent a lot of time asking questions about you. He was very subtle in the way he was prying answers out of me, Neville and Ginny. But as a reporter’s daughter I know when someone is sniffing for information. Why would he do that if he didn’t care?”
Harry threw up his hands. “I don’t know! Once a spy, always a spy. If he didn’t actually come out and say he had…I mean, that he felt… Look, you’ve made a mistake. That’s all there is to it. There’s no way Snape ever felt anything about me except sheer hatred.”
“You’ve been talking and training with him for days now. Did he act like he hated you? This Snape cares about you, Harry. He was sent here to protect you, probably by the Whangdoodles.”
“The Whangdoodles? What are they?”
She gave him an impish smile and burst out laughing. “I’m just kidding, Harry. There aren’t any such things as Whangdoodles. You’re really gullible, you know that?”
“Okay, you got me,” he groused. “But you’re still mistaken about Snape.”
“He asked you to call him Severus just now, you know.”
Damn, she had heard them. This time he could sense the flush riding down his neck. “Whatever. No matter what world Snape is from, he couldn’t care about me like…that. How could he? It makes no sense.”
She tilted her head, her pale eyes shrewd. “Why don’t you ask him?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, only walked back to the house. Harry stared after her, the Cloak clenched tightly under his arm.
__________
Harry didn’t ask Snape. It would have been too embarrassing by half. Luna was just wrong, that’s all, so there was nothing to ask about. They had the attack on Gringotts to deal with – and there were other, equally important, issues that needed attention.
One of them seemed to be where he was going to sleep at night. Dean had been resting in one of the few beds until he could figure out where to go. When he decided to Disapparate to a distant county to be with Muggle relatives, a re-shifting of the sleeping arrangements became necessary.
“We could send Ollivander to Aunt Muriel’s. She doesn’t really like anybody. But he’s a respected wandmaker. She’ll have to take him in,” Ron said.
“It will have to wait until he has recovered. Ollivander is still too injured to travel, even by Apparition. Taking him by Apparition from the Malfoy Manor didn’t make matters any better for him,” Severus pointed out.
“Don’t you have anything in those robes of yours that will help, Professor?” Ron asked.
“Nothing for injuries this grave. The best that can be done for him is extended bed rest until he can get proper care or I can find someplace where I can brew the appropriate potions. I’m afraid this cottage is ill suited for such tasks.”
“And he can’t go to St. Mungo’s. The Ministry probably has it watched,” Hermione sighed.
“The rest of you will have to make do. We really don’t have a lot of guest quarters,” Bill said apologetically.
“It’s all right, Bill. Hermione and I will bunk up together.” Ron grinned at Hermione, watching a wave of pink wash over her face.
“I can sleep in the armchair,” Luna offered. “It’s surprisingly comfy.”
“That leaves you and Snape,” Bill mused. “We can make Ollivander’s bed bigger and he can share with Griphook. We’ll just Transfigure Griphook’s bed and the two of you can sleep there.”
Harry forced himself to remain calm although his neck was starting to burn. “Um, that’s okay. I can sleep on the couch.”
“Nonsense, ‘Arry!” Fleur protested. “You are a guest in our ‘ome! We cannot allow you to sleep that way. You saved my sister’s life and that is a debt I ‘ave never repaid. The least I can do is make sure you are comfortable ‘ere!”
“Really, Fleur, that’s okay. If you’d seen where we’ve been sleeping these last few months, you’d know the couch is the lap of luxury.”
“Harry, don’t be silly. You and Snape are grown people. You can share a bed if you need to,” Luna chimed in.
Harry glared at her. She smiled back, unrepentant. Severus wondered what was going on between them.
__________
So, in spite of his protests, Harry found himself in bed with the Slytherin. He had insisted on making it as large as the space would allow and perched himself on the very edge of it. His back was to Severus and he was holding himself very stiffly with the effort of keeping himself as far from his former Potions master as possible.
Severus frowned. It was painfully clear the man was horrified at sharing a bed with him. It didn’t make sense though. They had been closer together in the tent than they were now and the adolescent had shown no trepidation at having him near. But now he was cringing with every creak of the mattress springs.
He thought over recent events. Harry had been fine until their walk on the beach after he’d left… Dammit, it was that Ravenclaw girl, wasn’t it? She’d said something to make the Gryffindor uneasy about him. Whatever it was, it needed clearing up before Harry’s nervousness hardened into distrust or worse.
“Harry, I am distressing you.”
Harry’s body jerked. “What? No, I’m fine. Really.”
“Is that why you’re perched on the edge of the bed like an owl about to take wing? It can’t be comfortable. Any sudden move and you’ll topple off.”
“I’m used to sleeping like this.”
“You didn’t sleep like this in the tent,” he pointed out.
“Um, well, that was in the tent, wasn’t it? When I’m in a bed, this is the way I sleep. Except that I can’t sleep if you keep talking. So good night.”
There was another lengthy, tense silence in which Harry’s breath became exaggerated, drawn-out sighings. The young man was not going to sleep any time soon and perhaps not at all until this problem was resolved.
“Harry, please. We will be embarking on a very dangerous mission soon. We have already stood side by side fighting against the Malfoys and dealing with the likes of Fenrir Greyback. I realize one shared battle may be too few to merit confidences. But I would prefer that you trust me rather than think you’ll have an enemy at your back.”
“I don’t think you’re an enemy. If I did, I’d have you in a Body-Bind and hanging from the ceiling.”
“Such reassuring words,” Severus stated dryly. “Nevertheless…”
“Snape, please.”
“I asked you to call me by my first name. And do face me while we’re speaking. It is aggravating to address the back of that messy head of hair of yours.”
Silence again. “I’m really tired,” the youth whispered without turning. “The visions, the fighting, being on the run. It’s taken its toll. This is the first comfortable bed I’ve been in in weeks. I don’t want to talk. Just let me sleep.”
Completely defeated, Severus watched that stiff back. Then he lay down and turned his back as well. To his self-disgust, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes.
This would never do. He inhaled and exhaled slowly to still his sobs, blinked his eyes furiously – anything to keep Harry from knowing his anguish. It wasn’t Harry’s fault he didn’t share his emotions. They were strangers to each other and one wishfully romantic walk along the beach wasn’t going to change that.
I’m sure my counterpart wouldn’t give way to childish weeping. It was a bitter thought but it helped. The tears retreated and he was fiercely glad of it.
__________
The scent of leather and cedar filled the air and Severus sniffed deeply. A smile breezed across his lips.
This was a dream, one of the good ones. These happy nighttime visions had proven all too elusive since he’d woken in this horrendous dimension to find his beloved gone from him. On occasion he had used Dumbledore’s Pensieve to relive one of his many joyful moments spent with Harry. He always removed them afterwards lest someone stumble on his private quarters. It was paranoid of him to fear entry into the Headmaster’s sanctum sanctorum. However, the attempt to steal the sword told him nowhere was secure.
But this was no Pensieve memory. Harry was in his arms, stirring fitfully, his bottom twitching against Severus’s groin and the Slytherin moaned. He buried his nose in Harry’s hair, inhaling the woodsy aroma.
His palm drifted across Harry’s front. There was cloth beneath his hand…well, that would never do. His fingers deftly undid the buttons hiding his beloved’s length and slipped inside his trousers. There heat met his fingers, heat and a half-hardness that he wrapped his fingers around.
“Harry,” he groaned. This was truly an excellent dream…
Harry smiled happily. Ginny was leaning over him, gloriously naked. Fiery red hair tumbled down to brush his face and his nose twitched at the sensation. “Harry,” she whispered. “I want to give you something special for your birthday.”
“Giiinnny,” he mumbled.
She slid down his body, his clothes magically disappearing in her wake, and stroked his cock. The breath ripped out of him with a hiss. Her hands were locked around his length and she was pumping him steadily, with expertness he had never expected from her. “Ginn…oh fuck,” he gasped after a particularly artful twist.
“Harry,” she responded and her voice was deeper than any girl’s should be.
Harry’s eyes flew open. There was a hand around his cock, stroking him with a decided skill. He gasped and mewled as the strokes changed in speed and force.
“Harrrry,” came a sleep-thickened voice behind him and he froze in shock.
He knew where he was. He remembered who was in bed with him and opened his mouth to scream bloody murder. Then the hand around his cock twisted and tightened and he sagged to the mattress, gasping in helpless submission to the pleasure coursing through his body.
“So beautiful…” Oh, Merlin, that was Snape’s voice whispering to him. The man didn’t sound quite awake but in the darkness Harry couldn’t be sure.
Harry wanted to shove him off. But, if he did, then this delightful touching would stop and he had never felt anything like this in his life.
The yearly attacks, the constant threat of Voldemort, the hectic pace of schoolwork meant his sexual interactions had been limited to fleeting kisses and the odd date. Never had he known the sexual touching of others. Never had he felt any other hand than his own on his dick. He shifted to his back, unconsciously spreading his legs.
Oh god, it was brilliant, too much so for him to want it to stop. He gulped, trembled and tossed his head frantically, caught in the force of his gathering orgasm. “Gah…more…more…oh Merlin,” he panted.
The taller body he could feel but not see nestled closer and now he could feel Snape’s erection pressing against his side. The man’s hips were rutting against him hard enough to make the rigid length impossible to ignore.
Harry’s hand drifted down hesitantly. Should he return the favor? If he kept this all one sided, he was the victim here, wasn’t he? He hadn’t set out to entice Sev – Snape. He’d been lying asleep when the man decided to molest him. Still…he was awake now and letting this continue robbed him of any innocent intentions.
Also, Snape was probably hurting. If going without release was this painful to Harry, it must be just as bad for the unconscious Slytherin. It wasn’t fair that Harry should get all the pleasure out of this.
He rubbed against the cloth-covered erection and heard the other man moan. He didn’t sound like he was in pain so Harry rubbed harder. The hand on Harry’s bare flesh sped up and he bit into the pillow to muffle a scream.
He started as a hand swept under his pajama top. “Sev… I mean, Snape, what…”
Then the fingers pinched a nipple.
This time a garbled scream did leave his throat and he barely stifled it with his fist. The fingers pinched harder, twisted and pulled, and fiery sparks went shooting into his groin.
Since when were his nipples so sensitive? He’d touched them before and never experienced anything like this. More expert tweaking and all his restraint fled. His hips were bucking harder in response and he was gasping with each pull. “More…more…like that…for fucks’s sake, don’t stop.”
He could feel every last inch of skin igniting, urging him to kick off the suffocating duvet. “Severus, Severus, Severus,” he chanted and there was no shame in using the other man’s name now. He brushed a hand over the older man’s neck, tangling his fingers in the soft strands of hair.
He wasn’t touching Snape’s cock any longer but he didn’t need to. The man was partially lying atop him and his cock was in constant motion as his hips thrust against Harry’s thigh. Harry was thrusting back, his hand wound in the silky hair.
“Harry.” Was it his imagination or did the voice sound more wide-awake now? It was too late for him to care and Harry did not resist when Snape pressed tightly against him.
A few more strokes and Harry came, harder than he ever had before, harder than when he’d had half-formed fantasies about Ginny. Only thin lips sealed over his prevented a scream from shattering the silence around them.
The kiss was good, too, powerful, demanding and possessive. Lips kneaded his and Harry’s head swam with the lack of air. Finally, the mouth moved away and he gulped, sucking in sweet breaths. Harry heard the Cleaning Charm muttered and the wetness across his middle vanished.
“Lumos.” Harry blinked nearsightedly at the sight of Snape’s wand so close and the wand tip moved away.
The man’s face was a study in conflicting emotions. He looked guilty, all right, but elation and satisfaction were written there too. The black eyes scoured his face, waiting for a response…or an accusation.
Harry was beyond embarrassed. He’d enjoyed what had happened but he’d never though a bloke would wank him off like this. Hell, he couldn’t imagine Ginny doing it, at least not so expertly as Snape did.
The silence was becoming too much. Harry blurted, “I woke up and felt you… I was dreaming of Ginny and then…”
“You realized it wasn’t a dream,” Snape finished seriously. “I was dreaming, too, remembering…”
“Remembering what?”
The Slytherin’s expression closed off. “It doesn’t signify. None of this needs matter. We both had erections that needed tending. This was not much different than a nocturnal emission, Har – Potter.”
“Wet dreams don’t usually involve other people or mutual wanking, do they, Snape?”
“No, they don’t.” The narrow lips twitched faintly.
Harry chewed his lower lip. “Luna said something to me on the beach.”
Snape frowned, satisfaction fading to displeasure. “I surmised as much from your altered attitude. Did she tell you I wasn’t to be trusted? That my story was a complete and utter tissue of lies?”
“No. She said I should trust you…because you were, um, fondofme.” Harry finished speaking a rush, hoping his cheeks didn’t look as warm as he felt.
Snape’s face slackened in shock. This man really was easier to read than the closed-off bastard he’d known since first year. “Are you joking? Why would she say such a thing?”
Harry shrugged. “That’s just Luna. When we saw the Veil hanging in the Department of Mysteries, she said she could hear whispering and knew they were voices of the dead. She could hear her mother’s voice in them. She’s always known stuff the rest of us don’t.”
“I see.” Cool and impassive.
Harry’s brows scrunched up. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Harry, what do you want me to tell you? Only a short while ago, you didn’t want to discuss what was bothering you, what had you so nervous you didn’t want to share a bed with me. Now I understand the source of your earlier concern. But you may set your mind at rest. Your little Ravenclaw friend was mistaken.”
“I haven’t found Luna to be mistaken about much of anything.”
The Slytherin managed a narrow smile. “What she thinks is immaterial to the case. I merely do what I must to ensure the Dark Lord is toppled from his throne. What I do now is no different than the services I performed 16 years ago in my world.”
“But…you were calling my name while you were…just now. I was thinking of Ginny. But you were thinking of me! Why would you be doing that if you didn’t care?”
“I actually knew who was in bed with me, unlike you,” Snape answered dryly. “But just because I needed a wank doesn’t mean you should take it personally.”
Harry felt like a gormless idiot. “So…you really don’t…want me?” That came out way too needy for a casual question and he could feel his face burning. Why should he care whether Snape wanted him or not?
The older man fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. His next words were measured and slow, completely devoid of emotion. “Harry, you are in grave danger in this world. You are facing a terrible trial against the deadliest Dark wizard since Grindelwald. You have enough to worry about without dealing with a fiction imposed on you by this deluded Ravenclaw girl. All I can say to reassure you is that I do not hate you as the Severus of this world did. Further than that you must not believe.”
Snape was right. Why should he want more from this man? He loved Ginny. He was going to get married and have a family just like any normal person did. It was what he’d always wanted. Right?
Then why did he rarely think of Ginny while he was awake? Why was his heart racing with Severus so near? Why did he want the man to hold him, to kiss him senseless? Why was he hungering for more of those skillful touches to his body?
Harry studied the other man. Seen in this light, Snape wasn’t ugly like he’d always thought. Okay, in looks, this man was very much the same as the greasy-haired Potions master he knew. He had the same angular features, black eyes, big nose and thin lips.
Physically, he took care of himself, without the washed-out paleness of a Snape who spent too much time indoors, away from other people. He even washed his hair. It wasn’t much but it made a world of difference.
Harry reached out and coiled a few strands around his finger. It really was soft to the touch, like a cloud. When he tugged it, those penetrating black eyes met his.
There was something…softer about this face. Kindness shone from his eyes. He stared at Harry like he was actually trying to see him rather than intimidate him.
“Harry,” Snape breathed in his deep voice. Emotion flickered and then dulled in those shadowy depths. “We should go back to sleep now,” he finished more firmly.
Harry sighed and let the hair drop out of his fingers. “You’re right. This isn’t something we should be thinking about now. We need to get…” All at once he went rigid and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Harry? HARRY!”
That concerned voice was too far away. All Harry could see were the spires of Hogwarts…
__________
He was striding towards the grave, a marble tribute to the man entombed therein. It was grossly ostentatious and all too easy to find. Did Dumbledore think that marble would protect his body from the Dark Lord? Then again, Grindelwald had underestimated him, too. Gregorovitch’s memory of the youthful blond thief had been all too vivid for it to have been faked.
“Harry, don’t be afraid. I’ve got you.” A hand was stroking his brow and he desperately wanted to take comfort in that. But he couldn’t concentrate on it as the vision swept him under and buried him alive.
The tomb broke apart easily under his whispered word. There lay the shriveled remains of the once mighty Dumbledore. The stench of decay was atrocious but he’d smelled worse. He wasn’t about to let a little rank odor stop him. He reached forward…
Harry reached forward and grabbed Snape’s arm, seeking to anchor himself. Distantly, he heard the older wizard gasp at the tightness of his hold but his bed partner didn’t pull away.
The wand was clutched in the old man’s withered hands. But he was able to pull it away easily with no resistance. The Elder Wand shot off ruby red sparks, acknowledging its new owner.
Voldemort’s maniacal joy faded, leaving Harry limp in Snape’s arms. A warm hand was stroking his brow and he could hear the man choking back something that sounded suspiciously like a sob.
“Harry, Harry, please be all right,” came the litany of whispering.
Snape sounded really scared for someone who claimed not to give a damn. But at the moment Harry was too knackered to kick up a fuss about it. The other man seemed to know he’d come back to himself because he loosened his arms and laid Harry gently to rest on the bed. His tone once more neutral, he asked, “What did you see?”
Harry licked his lips with a tongue that seemed far too swollen for his mouth. His throat felt like he’d eaten razors. “Water,” he croaked.
“You saw water?”
“No, I mean…need water.”
“Ah.” Snape placed the tip of his wand against Harry’s lower lip. “Aguamenti.”
Liquid flowed in a tiny stream into Harry’s mouth and he gulped it down gratefully. The wand tip lingered on his mouth. It felt weirdly intimate, even more than the wanking, like Snape was stroking his lip with his finger. It made no sense to think that way but heat burned over Harry’s skin nonetheless.
The wand was lifted from his lip, leaving him almost weak with relief. “Better?” Severus murmured, his unblinking eyes on Harry’s face.
Harry avoided looking at him. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“What did you see?”
“The Elder Wand. Dumbledore had it all along, ever since he won it from Grindelwald. Voldemort just broke open his grave. He’s got the Wand.” Harry’s tone was very matter of fact, unnerving in its lack of panic.
Snape went still beside him. “Do not despair, Harry. The owner of the Elder Wand is not invincible. History has shown us this.”
“Whatever.” Harry’s voice was eerily flat. “We still have Horcruxes to destroy. Get some sleep.”
“Harry, listen to me,” the older wizard urged. “I have seen wands shatter and break with time. They wear out, break under sufficient pressure. I believe Ron Weasley had a battered wand passed down to him from a family member, as I recall. And your own wand was recently broken…”
“Thanks for rubbing that in,” Harry snapped. “What’s your point?”
“The Elder Wand cannot be broken because it is the Wand itself that is unbeatable. The one who wields it remains the same frail human being they were before they attained that cursed bit of wood. That is why it can be lost by, stolen or wrested away from every single one of its owners.
“The Wand protects no one from death or defeat. The Dark Lord has failed to remember this crucial fact. This arrogance will be his undoing just as it was in the past. I guarantee it.”
Harry was quiet, pondering this. “Thanks for the pep talk. I-I’ll try to keep it in mind.” He rubbed his forehead wearily.
“Would you like a draught against the pain?”
“Yes, please.” Snape Summoned the needed vial and Harry gulped its contents gratefully. In an instant, he felt the throbbing in his skull diminish to a barely felt level. It didn’t fade entirely; as long as that noseless freak was alive, he didn’t suppose it would. But he wouldn’t worry Snape by saying so.
Harry made sure to smile. “Thanks. That’s a real help.”
Without another word, the taller man wrapped Harry in his arms. When Harry froze, then tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. “Ssshh, Harry. Please accept this. Do you think your little Gryffindor friends are sleeping apart?”
“No, but Hermione and Ron are, well, they’re more than mates and we’re…not…”
“I know. But this can be about solace as much as sex. There shall be no more shenanigans on my part. You have my word on that. Besides, do you honestly think, at my age, that I’m capable of more than one bout a night?” he asked, sounding amused. “Let me give you this, Harry. Please.”
Little by little, Harry let himself relax in Snape’s arms. It really was nice being held like this. Idly, he wondered if his mum had ever done this for him when he was a baby. “Fine. But don’t blame me if you’ve got a stiff back and numb arms in the morning,” he mumbled.
“Duly noted. Nox.” Did Harry imagine it or were lips pressed against his hair? The touch was featherlight. It could have been a draft. Deciding not to mention it, he closed his eyes.
This time he slept soundly, without dreams.

TBC
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Onward into the Breach