Saving Severus
Prologue
Warning: This story is rather dark as it contains thoughts and attempts at suicide, hurt/comfort, slash, D/s with DomHarry and, though this will be the edited version, there will be mature situations and violence, no noncon though. OOCNESS!
You have all been warned.
Disclaimer; All recognizable aspects of this story belong to J.K Rowling, including, but not limited to; Setting, Characters, concepts and terms specific to the Harry Potter series. I am making no money from this.
Is there any point anymore? As I sit here writing this, my thoughts are leaning towards, no, there is no point, and no will. Years ago, I was eager to please the Order, to redeem myself in their eyes, and the eyes of the Ministry. So, what has my eighteen years of spying, constantly putting my life on the line, being put under unforgivables and other such curses that in all rights should be unforgivables gotten me? It got me accosted in Diagon Alley by a group of Aurors! Most of the Order distrusts me, some I'd even go so far as to say, want me dead, and the same can be said for the deatheaters. The only one that actually gives me the time of day is the headmaster. The Headmaster, even being the wonderful man he is, cannot spare time to aide me though. He has practically the whole war on his shoulders. No, he has no need to be burdened with me and my problems. It would end up just making me feel guilty.
Harry has become quite the warrior. Having tapped into his full potential, he has become incredibly powerful. The fire in his eyes and the strength he exudes is mesmerizing. Of course, I only admit that here. Only in this book can I call him Harry. No one knows of my infatuation. I didn't for awhile even, until I decided to stop lying to myself. I'm pitiful. I am twenty years older than him and yet all I want is for him to walk in here, come over to me and hold me. I fall asleep every night to the image of him carding his fingers through my hair, telling me how much he loves me and needs me, how he will protect me from everything. If anyone read this, they'd think me insane. Maybe I am. Is there no one I can turn to? The answer to that is simple. I have lived my life alone, and I will end it alone. I have atoned for my mistake of youth, and now it's time to just let go.
Closing my leatherbound journal, I placed it gently, almost lovingly onto my desk. The room was dimly lit in the early evening glow. I strode the few steps to my bedside table, where, in it's drawer, my freedom was hidden in the form of a golden liquid that at first glance could easily be mistaken for fire wiskey. The difference was the slight brown tint. Many nights I would simply hold it in my hands, staring at it, imagining the releif of finally being free of all my duties, these people and my own conflicting conscience. I brewed it one night after a particualrly hostile Order meeting. At the time it was simply for assurance. I still held on to a thread of hope that things would ease up once this war started to turn around. I was foolish to think that. I took off my shoes and sat on my bed. If anyone were to look in, they would see me sleeping. So, in my last waking moment, I will imagine my Harry, holding me, telling me everything will be alright.
Harry
Dinner was just ending, and I was the only one to notice the resident Potions Master missing once again. My friends and family were all chatting and laughing around me. I was even in a conversation with Ginny, though only giving a half hearted nod once in awhile making it very one sided. Severus has been occupying my thoughts constantly. Not only have people been telling me more, but I have been listening in on conversations between older Order members. The things I hear are awful. From some, I hear of the heroic, dangerous missions Severus goes on just so we can be one step ahead of Voldemort. I hear all the steps he has taken to make sure deatheaters stay off my trail. Unfortunately, from most people I hear scathing remarks of how he's 'evil' and 'a backstabber'. It makes me angry. On more than one occasion, my anger caused something to fall, or break, forcing me to hide as everyone nearby came looking.
I pushed back my plate before noticing Ginny give me an odd look. I forgot, I was talking with her. I give her a strained smile and let her know that I was feeling ill and I could no longer eat. She gave me a concerned look and squeezed my arm affectionately.
"Yes, you don't look that well Harry, why don't you go lie down? I'll make sure there are leftovers for you." I smiled, warmly this time. Ginny was a great friend, unfortunately though, I had no desire to be anything more to her.
The real cause of my departure was the overwhelming feeling of unease I felt towards Severus. It grew the more I looked at his empty chair. I knew it would not recede until I saw for myself that he was alright. Perhaps I could convince him to eat something. I made my way hastily from the table and up the stairs, though I slowed down as I passed the portrait of Mrs. Black. Luckily, Severus' room was not far from the stairs. Taking a steadying braeth, I knocked, and waited, but there was no answer. I knocked again, twice more before I decided to check if he was even in there. I was surprised to see the door unlocked. Stepping in, relief flooded me as I saw him, asleep on his bed. He looked so pale in the rays of the sunset. I moved forward, planing on waking him. He had skipped too many meals.
"Professor," I called gently. Perhaps it was too gently, he didn't answer. I called again, a bit louder this time. I thought briefly, that for a spy, he slept quite deeply. In a last attempt, I shook him, and instead of the harsh insults and sleepy glare I expected, the only response I got was the clink of glass hitting the floor, and a splash of liquid . I looked at the vial, and the small amount of liquid left inside. It looked famliar, and the longer I looked at it, the more my unease returned. That's when I remembered the book I had taken from the restricted section the previous year on poisons curable with a bezoar. It took a moment before it clicked, but when it did, I was out of the room faster than even I thought possible, scrambling for my trunk and the bag of stones I kept inside. After all, we were at war, it's always best to be prepared. I shoved it down his throat, not even blinking as he choked before it went all the way down. That choking told me that my Proffesser was indeed still alive. I held him, and prayed. Running my fingers through the black, silky hair, I rocked my Severus gently, begging him to wake. It felt like hours before the black eyes I was praying to see, opened, and stared at me groggily.
"H-Harry? Am I dead?" he asked, nuzzling slightly into the warmth of my torso. I smiled warmly at him, never ceasing my ministrations.
"No, you're definately alive. Everythings going to be ok from now on." Severus nodded, still not fully aware, and let himself fall into a real sleep.
