Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Keepers	By : Sealpotter Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters associated with the books/movies and I never have and never will make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Harry’s world came crashing down once again. His hand was desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood, but the precious fluid still found an outlet. In his other he held the man’s tears, bottled for him to view. He couldn’t let the man die without knowing, he couldn’t not say the words he had bottled up for so long.
He stared into those dying eyes.
“I love you.”
The briefest flash of emotion settled into those eyes.
Harry’s heart was dying.
“Take my heart with you. Without you it is worthless.”
Harry bent slowly, not releasing the pressure of his hand. And softly kissed those dying lips. Gently, reverently, hopelessly.
He parted his own lips to capture the man’s dying breath.
His heart was gone. No longer kept inside himself, only an empty hole and the stain of love that lingered.

Prologue~
Harry was sick, he needed time to think after what he had seen in Snape’s pensieve. The man had always been an enigma to him. Those memories made everything perfectly clear. He had felt the loathing for his father, his godfather and Remus in that memory. But there was a jealous tinge that was inside them memory. Snape had only been concerned about one pair of eyes that had witnessed the whole thing, and in that moment, Harry saw.
For the next year, Harry tried to see the man through his mother’s eyes. The problem is his plan had backfired. Removing the veil of hate from his own eyes, put the man in a light that Harry would never dream of. First, it was respect, followed by admiration. By the middle of his sixth year, Harry was completely lost in love. It was not tainted by Dumbledore's death, his grief drove him to make silly mistakes, but the care in the man’s eyes as Snape protecting Harry from himself was unmistakable. Harry laid on that ground in a panic, hoping that the Potions master would survive the wrath of a mad man, while he dealt with his own demons.
Not knowing the fate of the one who held his heart, was driving him mad. His heart was empty, broken and worried. He became snappy and sullen, and wearing the locket made it so much worse. Hermione grew suspicious over time when he defended the man to Ron. He confessed his feelings after Ron had left. She accepted it just like she did everything, listening to his logic, putting it into perspective, and accepting it. Harry had that magnetic pull to the doe patronus, the same magnetism he felt around Snape. He trusted implicitly. He told Ron later that evening, knowing that keeping his friend unaware was unwise. It also helped diffuse the situation with the locket, Harry was not interested in Hermione. Ron was upset, his legendary anger brewing, but he didn’t leave this time, and after a while he came around. There really wasn’t much anyone could do either way. There was a war, and they had a mission.
Harry’s return to Hogwarts, and standing in the presence of that man, was humbling. He saw the spark of hope return to inky eyes, even while that mouth and face reflected nothing but the actor’s poise.
Harry desperately tried to do all he could to win. Until he heard the words “Nagini Kill” spoken softly. Everything inside him shattered.

~The Keeping.
Harry did not know, he was too grieved to care. His heart was dead and gone. But Hermione saw that tiny blue spark of light flow from Snape inside Harry.
Harry moved like an automaton, passing students, climbing stairs. Everything had no purpose. The memories confirmed everything, and Harry ached. If only such a man could have seen him, seen Harry. But, at last Harry had his glimmer of hope. He would be with Severus soon. Harry walked out of the Headmaster’s office, towards his destiny, towards his death, towards Severus.
Harry grieved more when Severus did not join the others to guide him. There was a part of him though that felt as if Snape was there, even though he could not truly perceive him. He looked to his mother as they walked. “Did you know?” He asked, knowing she would understand.
“I suspected, but did not see. I was blinded by the love I had for your father.” She whispered soothingly.
“Will he be waiting for me or for you?” Harry wondered out loud.
“You will have to see, there is no where that real love can hide.” She said.
They faded as he entered the clearing.
Harry stared at the two trains available to him. Dumbledore said he could board a train, he didn’t mention two of them.
Kings Cross was getting more detailed, though stark white, one train was deep black, and the other bright white against the white background. He knew which he had to board. His soul cried out for the other. He moved closer to the black train, his desire, his need pulling him closer. This train would lead to Severus. Harry caught two tears as they fell. They solidified in his palms, glinting like diamonds. He bent down and placed them on the floor of the black train. “Go to Severus.” he whispered.
Harry moved to the white train and boarded. The doors closed and his hand rested on the window, reaching towards the black train. Even in this place, pain and hollow loss consumed him. He didn’t want to save the world, he wanted to find his heart, and be with the man who died with it. As the train departed, he felt as if he were being torn in two and then everything disappeared.
The final battle would happen, he understood his destiny, as Narcissa Malfoy bent over him.
The ashes of evil floated in the air, yet Harry felt numb. He had hoped to die, hoped to leave this world, but he was still here. They were free, yet he was still caged. Bound to a man dead and gone.
He looked up over the destruction, the rubble, everything desolate. Out of the smoke staggered a figure dressed in black. Harry stared, and then got to his feet, going to help whomever it was. He was drawn, inexplicably, pulled to this person. The man drew closer, Harry’s breath left him in great heaves. Severus walked, moved, lived. But his eyes were still dead. They looked at Harry, he felt the pressure inside his own chest to go to him. It was pure instinct. Harry stood now, in front of Severus, looking up. Those eyes held nothing, no life, no spark, no hate, no emotions, nothing. And the man sank to his knees, eyes still fixed on Harry.
Kiss me.
Harry did not understand. The words wrapped around his mind, sliding like oil. Looking at the neck wound, it was red, but two scars showed where everything healed together. Two tear shaped scars. Harry was utterly perplexed, but that small voice pleaded with him.
Harry bent down, opened his mouth and breathed into Severus’ own.
Harry felt lost close to this man, his own mind wandered, through his own body, down further to where his own heart had once lived, He found it there, that small spark. He willed it to move, pushed it with his mind, let himself feel the burn. He was letting that soul brand him, bind him, scar him for eternity, and with one last push, he breathed it back into Severus. His eyes opened and he backed away, watching light and life dawn over the man. Color flooded the man’s skin, his black eyes shined with life and then moved to capture Harry’s gaze. Harry froze, scared, and terrified of what he had just done. He turned on his heels and ran, away from the castle, away from the man who would surely despise him for taking away the chance to be at peace.
~~~~~~~~~~
Severus had been floating, not really aware, not really gone. When Harry told him to take his heart with him as he died, he felt a brief moment of happiness quickly followed by sadness. There was only one thing he could do, he had given Harry the memories, he knew what was to come. If only he could give him something more, only moments, and he felt heaven reach for him, so in his last breath he gave Harry what was rightfully his. Severus’ soul.
When Severus opened his eyes, he felt changed. His soul was back, but the heartbeat was not his own. Those eyes had looked at him with such fear, hopelessness and degradation. He could not move to stop the flight that followed.
Eyes, it was always those damned eyes that got him into trouble. He was captivated when the boy was 11, transfixed by the eyes he had only really got to see in death. Time flew by and those eyes taunted him. He blocked out those eyes, trying only to see the face of the Father.
The farce was over when he began to see the boy, not the eyes and not the father. The utter selfless devotion towards his friends, trying to protect them from a werewolf. It began there, the slow unmasking of a soul unique. He was always aggravated by the circumstances that made the boy seem reckless, but he saw beyond the mask now. He saw the manipulation, and the maneuvering of others. He had to always be one step ahead to protect the boy. He felt such agony having to play his role every day, to watch those eyes fall upon him in dismay at his own words. His heart started to skip when those eyes started to watch him, not out of fear, or plotting, but curiosity at first. He had been so angry when he found Harry watching his memories, embarrassed that he would be seen in that way by the boy. Would his orphan complex predisposition him to side with his father? Would he think less of him, no longer respect him? Patience was never one of his strong attributes. He knew he was lost when the boy was always on his mind. He would look for the chance to see him, watch him grow, learn or just live. He lived for the moments that the boy started to watch him. A change grew over the boy, new color in his cheeks if their eyes met.
He liked this new change, but change grows old and fades away. His meeting with the headmaster proved life would always be unkind to him. The boy’s attachment to the man was undeniable, and he had to sever that. The boy would not live, and he had to facilitate that goal. He hated change, hated what had become of him, empty service with nothing inside to drive him. But in the end, hope blossomed, in anger the boy attacked him with his own spell, yet he would not harm him in his grief. He could not stay to see the condemnation in those eyes, Harry’s eyes. The world was grey and meaningless for the year Harry did not come to Hogwarts. The halls held no life, no hope, only darkness and gloom. There was oppression, fear, darkness, and hopelessness that clung to the walls of the school. Fingerprints of evil, and all he could do was stand there and let it happen, minimize the damage, and hope.
He knew he was to die, he had failed the boy, everyone that ever mattered was failed by him in that moment of pain as Nagini struck. When it was over, he waited for death to take him. But then out of nowhere, his angel arrived, there was hope, and hope was Harry Potter. Love was Harry Potter. His soul was claimed by Harry Potter. Harry was the whisper that came to him as he floated, not truly gone, but no longer there.
~~~~~~~
Harry was hyperventilating near the lake, trying to gain his breath. He needed to go somewhere, anywhere. He could not go. He could not leave Snape to those who did not know. He could not let the world condemn a man who was the dark angel guarding them all. He would return. Face the wrath to come, and when all was done, he would leave the man in peace and live with his own demons. His heart was already gone, his soul branded, there was nothing left to lose.
He found the man still kneeling.
“Can you move?” Harry asked softly.
Those eyes turned to him, bright, full and clear. Harry blinked, he saw no mask, no fury, no regret. What he did see brought him to his own knees in front of the unmoving man. Severus reached up, all his strength was needed for this simple gesture. He placed his palm over the place where Harry’s heart should beat. Held that emerald gaze to his own. “I give you my heart, to hold your soul. Not out of need, regret, obligation or mercy. Out of a love that I found after I saw, just Harry.”
Harry’s chest grew warm, it burned, it was full. His own arm grasped the thin one of the man, the agony of hope gripping him. Severus used the rest of his strength to pull, and Harry came easily, lips on lips. They drenched each other in their first real kiss, love exploding through them, around them thought they were unaware of the spectacle they created. Their only thoughts were centered on each other.
Hermione had gone looking for Harry and stood off to the side, eyes wide in wonder. A golden glow surrounded Harry, though he looked to be upon his knees. He was kissing someone rather passionately, and then the bubble burst. Thousands of golden sparks exploding around them, swirling faster and faster. They coalesced into thin strings of light, surround the two kneeling figures, and then wrapping around and melting into both figures. They broke apart abruptly and fell backwards. She ran quickly afraid for Harry, afraid he had finally given up. Her screams brought out many other onlookers, several adults ran to join her. No one could pull the two men far away from each other, there seemed to be an invisible elastic band that bound them. They were transported together on a double stretcher to the Great Hall where the wounded were being treated.
‘Why are you here? I saw you die. Where are we?’ Harry’s voice filled the black void. ‘One cannot truly die without their soul, mine is rightfully yours.’ smooth as silk, deep as ebony that velvet voice seemed to seep into the blackness.
‘Together?’ ‘Yes.’
Harry’s body was warm, heated by the body next to him. He must be dreaming, there was peace, warmth and a wholeness within him. An arm moved to hold him tighter, and he sighed.
“Look at me Harry.” Black velvet caressed Harry’s ear, fire blossoming through his veins. Harry turned slowly, taking his time, letting every inch of his body slide against Severus in slow motion. He heard Severus struggling to breathe. Pools of emerald met the endless blackness of Severus Snape. It was Harry and only Harry that Severus saw looking up at him. His thin hand reached to spread his fingers over every small scratch, each dirt streak, ash flake and patch of stubble. Harry’s lips parted, and Severus was struck at how sensual and innocent Harry looked. He wanted their first real kiss to be perfect.
Harry was lost in those eyes, and just one touch of those fingers and he could not keep his breath from escaping, but he couldn’t close his eyes. Severus got closer and Harry felt the world start to spin, his lips tingled with anticipation.
When they met, they saved each other in that moment. The dark angel and his hero, two completely different men, melting into each other, hands slowly holding on while lips started a slow burn. They kissed to save their sanity, they drank each other to save their souls, they loved to save themselves.
“Severus…” Harry called out, breaking the kiss. The name filled the dark one with so much pleasure his body tightened. He burned for Harry, and Harry burned for him… Severus reached for the white gown covering Harry, and slid it lower off his shoulders, exposing pale flesh. Bruises, burns, cuts, scrapes and pure Harry was revealed to him. Love in every bruise, salvation in every cut, hope in every burn, and Harry in every inch of flesh. Severus touched, stroked and memorized each hollow, every dip, and rise of flesh. His hands spanned Harry’s chest, brushing over one nipple. Harry’s back arched, pressing his flesh further into Severus’ touch. He looked captivating, sensual, sexy.
Harry felt alive for the first time, colors were more brilliant, Severus’ scent was permeating his nostrils and branding his lungs. Citrus and bergamot were wrapping his mind in a beautiful sensation. Every stroke branded him, his heart beat loud, but from inside his other half.
“Harry, we need to slow down before I loose control.” Severus whispered, breathing heavy, hands trying not to drag Harry against his hardened body.
“Let go Severus, together, lets have this for us.” Harry moved, rolling over on top of Severus. The older man could just watch as Harry pulled the robe completely off, reached and undid all the strings holding Severus robe and moved it aside. Harry took his time touching, bending to kiss each inch of flesh, stopping only briefly to place tender kisses to the teardrop scars on the neck of his dark angel.
Severus and Harry were caught in the firestorm of their closeness. Flesh upon flesh warming each other, their empty worlds filled, melting into each other. Harry felt lower stroking Severus’ flesh, hard and silk, warm fire.
“Harry!” Severus groaned out overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. Harry wanted more, much more than the pressing of flesh, the melding of lips. “Severus, I need you…” Harry breathed into Severus’ ear. Severus murmured a quick incantation and Harry was stretched, wet and moaning at the sensation that swept over him. He moved over Severus’ member, and slowly slid down, allowing each inch to be taken with great pleasure edged with pain. it was exquisite to be locked together, Harry leaning in to capture those lips once again. He wanted them connected in every way. He lifted and then slowly inched back down. They drowned out each other’s moans and gasps, their hands tenderly stroking flesh and and pressing into each other more.
They were flying in a sky of heated pleasure, stars burning bright behind their eyes. Harry’s movements increased as he reached for the edge, his whole body needed to find that edge and let go. Severus was holding on riding that edge with Harry, one more long stroke and they both exploded, clinging to each other, saving one another from that open maw of death, and loneliness.
They lay together, sated, content and peaceful. The world around them did not exist, only the two of them. two hearts beating as one. Keepers of their hearts.

~End
A/N So.... Not sure where this came from, but it was a plot bunny from ... a really nice place :D
Please rate and review. All mistakes are my own...
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