Title: Don't Leave Me
Author: Sala Anothes
Email: I don't own Harry Potter, that's Rowling, and most likely Warner Bros.
Rating: PG
Pairing: SS/HP
Summary: Harry muses about his lover and their long life together.
Severus sits by the fire, reading his newspaper and occasionally moaning about the cold. Thirty, forty, fifty years ago he was quietly breezing through here, actually enjoying the chill of these dungeons.
His once raven-black and silky hair is now almost entirely white, with only the occasional beautiful ebony streak. His elegant hands, once white, slim, and smooth, are now gnarled and I can easily feel his veins through his skin. His movements are no longer as graceful as they used to be, practiced and beautiful, but rather jerkier and laced with pain. No longer can I say he's young, or even middle aged. We both know Severus is old, as am I.
He hasn't taught potions in what must be ten years now. Sometimes I think we should just permanently move to his house in a small village north of London, but I know Severus will never agree to that. I don't think I'd like it, either. Like Severus, I grew up in this castle. I watched people come and go, and sometimes return.
Severus starts coughing, a loud, hacking cough that worries me every time I hear it. "Sev?"
He continues coughing, not answering my inquiry. I rise from the couch with difficulty and walk over to him. "Severus?"
Severus looks up. "Harry," he murmurs and grabs my hand, just as gnarled as his, and holds it tightly. "Harry." The way he says my name pains me.
"Don't leave me, Sev. Stay here with me. Please."
He just tightens his grip and looks up at me, his eyes still that deep obsidian that first drew me in, well over eighty—ninety, perhaps— years ago.
"Harry."
"C'mon, Sev. I'll get you some tea, and tomorrow we're going to your house. And we're not coming back here. You're too old for this. I'll get Robert to empty these rooms for us."
Severus nods. Robert is our adopted son's grandson, and I know he'll take good care of our belongings.
I hobble out of the sitting room slowly, refusing to summon my cane. My right leg has never been good, not after Voldemort's death anyway, and it grows worse with age. But, like Severus, I feel I have to maintain a portion of my dignity. Ten minutes later I'm back, levitating a tea tray behind me. I pour Severus some tea, then myself some, and sit down across from him.
Severus throws aside his newspaper, muttering something about idiots running the world these days. He picks up his tea cup and hold it between his hands, warming his fingers, slowly bringing it to his mouth and sipping the warm beverage.
That night, I lay awake, hoping my Sev will be fine. Because I couldn't bear to lose him.
The next morning we go take a wizarding train over to the village where Severus' house is. It's warmer here, and the local doctor lives next door. He was even kind enough to install a device in our house to alert him if we needed help. Everyone knows us here, unlike at Hogwarts. There, we're just an old couple. We don't teach there anymore, and we didn't venture out of our rooms that often. None of the students there have had either of us as a teacher, although their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents have. Some of the current students' great-great-grandparents have had Severus as a their Potions Professor. People like my former classmates. Again it strikes me how old we are.
Robert had steadily taken over Severus' job, first taking only the first years, then, a couple of years later, the second years, up until Severus was only teaching his N.E.W.T.S. level class. Robert is now the Potions Master at Hogwarts, with Remus' grandson as Headmaster. Remus and Sirius, married until their dying day, have been dead for nearly seven years, and their adopted son is in St. Mungo's, chronically ill. Soon, he's going to be gone, too. Another one of are friends, gone.
As Severus puts it, we're the only ones left of our friends. Ron, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, Minerva, Albus—all dead.
And every day I beg Severus not to go, not to leave me here all alone, with no one left. I have made some friends with the younger generation, but they lead their own lives, and I know they want some excitement, not tea with an old, weak guy.
Severus grumbles about the light and tells me not to mutter to myself.
"If you want to say something to me, speak up, you know I have hearing problems!" he says loudly.
"Sorry, Sev."
He returns to his knitting. Somewhere along the line he picked it up, probably as a stress reliever, and hasn't stopped since. "What are you knitting?"
"A sweater for Robert."
I smile at him. He looks up at me and smiles back, his eyes warm with happiness and love. Eighty—ninety?—years of marriage later we are still together, and still as deeply in love as the first day when I walked into his office, having been out of school for four years, and asked him out to dinner.
He starts coughing again, and I can tell by the volume of the coughs he's having another coughing fit. Sighing, I force myself to my feet. "Severus, I'll go make you a cup of tea."
Severus nods, still coughing. "Harry," he says, in the same voice he used yesterday. "Harry."
"I'll be right back, Sev. Don't leave me."
He reaches for me and I go to him, grasping his hand again in mine. "I love you, Harry, and I've loved you ever since your seventh year at Hogwarts. And I want to make sure you know that."
"How could I ever forgot, Sev?" He lets go of my hand and I limp out to go brew some tea. I hear him coughing again, and sigh worriedly.
"Don't you dare leave me, Sev," I whisper into the silence of the kitchen.
I return to our sitting room and immediately notice Severus has stopped coughing. I walk over to him slowly. "Sev? Sev?" Then, more worriedly, "Severus? Severus?"
He doesn't answer me. I pick up one of his hands and crushed ice runs through my veins when I notice its limpness. "No," I whisper brokenly. "Don't leave me, Sev, don't."
But I know he's gone.