Title: War Is Over
Author: D G Spendlove
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Snape get together, eventually.
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. No money being made, etc.
Chapter 1
Severus Snape sat in the darkest corner of the "Hounds of Hell" and threw back another jigger of firewhiskey. He was forty years old and his life was over. Voldemort had been destroyed once and for all, and with him, his sole purpose in life. He felt redundant. He'd spent his entire adult life either fighting for Voldemort or fighting against him.
The Dark Lord had defined his entire adult life. Without him, he felt like nothing. He was drinking to forget - and so far it was working. He forgot where his legs were and his whole body was numb. He forgot the spell to disapparate and he forgot where he would have gone to anyway. He raised his head and surveyed the dimly lit room, looking unsteadily for the easiest way to the bathroom.
He was so far-gone that his field of vision had narrowed right down and the room was spinning alarmingly. He folded his arms and collapsed onto them. He shut his eyes tightly and prayed for oblivion. The nauseous feeling abated somewhat with his head down, as long as he didn't move. The room around him seemed to be madly rotating and the nausea flowed in and out like waves. The noise from the crowded pub now faded to a dull roar.
* * * * * * * * * *
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, aurors in training, had been sent by Albus Dumbledore to look for Professor Snape. He had disappeared after an argument with Dumbledore after the latest Friday night meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.
It was a cold January Saturday, and Albus had become worried when Snape did not return to Hogwarts. They were reluctant to do the job, but Albus had reminded them that the members of the Order should stick together and look after their own. They had split up about an hour ago. It was three am and they'd been to almost every pub in Diagon Alley and Knockturn alley. Harry was starting to give up, find Ron and go home when he noticed a banner down a side alley, which proclaimed the 'Hounds of Hell'. //That sounds like *his* kind of place// he thought, and shouldered his way through the door.
It was dark and smoky inside and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He peered through the gloom and went up to the bar. A couple of hags eyed him warily. He cleared his throat and caught the bartender's attention.
"Excuse me, " he said politely, putting down a couple of galleons. "I'm looking for a wizard from Hogwarts."
The old and grizzled man looked at him quizically with his one good eye, then jerked a thumb towards the back corner. "Over there, in the corner, he ain't no regular. Powerful wizard, though."
Harry looked over. Severus Snape did not look particularly powerful right now. His head was resting on his hands, his greasy dark hair covering his face and spilling onto the bar table. Harry strode over to him.
As he stood there looking down at his former teacher he heard a groan.
"Sir?" he said, hesitantly.
Snape looked up blearily, not really seeing Harry and muttered, "I think I'm going to be sick." He put a hand to his mouth and tried to get up. Harry stood back quickly as Snape leaned over and proceeded to vomit all over his shoes.
A hag who had been watching sidled up to Harry and said, "If anyone did that t'me, I'd hex 'em."
Harry ignored her and spelled the mess away. He hauled Snape out of the seat and held him upright. Harry cast another spell to make his burden weigh less and with his arms holding up the older wizard, dragged him into a dingy men's room. He pushed him into the only cubicle and heard Snape collapse on the floor and then start vomiting again.
Harry stood outside, feeling slightly revolted. He had never seen Snape in this condition. It seemed odd that he would go off the deep end now, when all the pressure was off. Years spent as a spy hadn't cracked his stern façade, and now, here he was - when they had finally won - absolutely cracking up. He pulled out his message sphere and called Ron.
"Ron, I've found him. Meet me outside 'The Evil Weed'," he said.
He looked under the door of the stall. Snape appeared to have passed out on the floor. Harry rolled his eyes, waved his wand and said, "Alohamora." It was hard to push the door open as Snape was behind it. Finally he dragged him out, pulled him over to the sinks and splashed some water on his face. Harry tried to wake him up to no avail.
He shook his head in disgust, and levitated the slimy git back into the bar, out the door and down the road to his rendezvouz with Ron.
Ronald Weasley stood alone in the middle of Knockturn Alley, kicking absentmindedly at the gutter. He kept his head down and tried not to attract any attention. There were some decidedly weird looking specimens around. He looked up as he heard someone approach. It was a tall slim wizard of indeterminate age. He was wearing a dark suit and faintly reminded him of Snape.
"Nice evening," the man said, meeting his eyes and giving him a brief but searching look."Are you waiting for someone?" He then looked him up and down, his eyes stopping to rest at his crotch level. "How much for the rest of the night?"
Ron blinked. He felt himself flush. "Oh, um.....I'm not, er...."
"Pity," said the man, suddenly reaching out and running his hand down Ron's arm. "See you later."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief as the man walked slowly away, looking back at him every now and again. He was never more relieved than when he saw Snape floating down the alley, closely followed by Harry.
"Am I glad to see you, mate!" he exclaimed as Harry approached. "What's wrong with him?"
"Drunk as a skunk." Harry pulled out the Portkey the Headmaster had given him and held it out to Ron. He released the levitation spell on Professor Snape and caught him carefully, holding him upright while Ron activated the Portkey that would take them all back to Hogwarts.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Headmaster met them at the gates and guided them to a secret passage that led directly down into the dungeons. Harry levitated Snape again and they followed Dumbledore down a dank, musty tunnel. He then led them up a narrow, twisting spiral staircase that did not move. It was recessed into a buttressed column and Harry had to be very careful not to knock Snape's head on the stonework.
Harry noticed that the Headmaster's steps got slower the further up they went. He was still weak from the final battle and Harry was worried about him.
"We'll look after him from here, sir," Harry said as they paused at the top of the staircase. "If you could just show us where his quarters are?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you, Harry. I am feeling rather drained tonight. His room is just along this corridor. Third door on the left." With that Dumbledore bade them goodnight and disappeared through a doorway that appeared in the wall beside him.
"Come on Harry, let's get rid of this greasy git and get back to Grimmauld Place." Ron walked ahead. "Here it is," he announced, "Third door on the left."
Harry came up with the Professor's body floating along in front of him. He carefully deposited it on the floor. He had to admit he was curious to see the Potion masters quarters. In the seven years he had been at Hogwarts he had never even managed to get a glimpse of Snape's private living space.
His Occlumency lessons had always been held in Snape's office. As far as he knew, none of the students had even been invited to Snape's private sanctuary. He imagined it as a cosy suite of rooms, with a sitting room filled with bookcases piled high with weighty tomes on Potions and other magical subjects. A roaring fire with an old worn wingback chair in front of it, with an antique table nestling close by to hold the inevitable cup of steaming tea.
There would be a door in one wall, left slightly ajar to reveal a glimpse of an enormous four poster bed, hung in green and silver and spread with black satin sheets.
His imaginings could not have been further from the truth.
Ron tried a spell to open the door, but nothing happened. Harry noticed a large old cast iron key protruding from the keyhole and turned it. The lock clicked and the door creaked open.
Harry and Ron peered into the darkness. Ron whispered a spell that would light the wall sconces, but nothing happened. He looked at Harry, mystified. Then he used his wand to cast lumos, walking into the room.
"Are you sure this is the right room?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion.
"This was the third door on the left." Ron was looking around too. "And it's not a room. It's a bloody cell!"
Harry and Ron perused the cell in silence. It was about ten foot square and the ceiling, floor and walls were all bare, bleak grey granite. A narrow metal bunk was suspended from one wall cantilevered on hinges and chains. It was spread with a thin old mattress and blankets that had seen better days. High on one wall was a grated opening, presumably for ventilation as it did not admit any light.
Another wall held manacles and hand and foot level.
Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror.
"Gawd, no wonder he was always stalking around the castle at night! How could anyone *sleep* in here?"
For some unknown reason Harry was moved to anger on Snape's behalf. Dumbledore knew what this room was like. Why on earth didn't he give Snape something more comfortable?
Next to the bed was a small chest of drawers. Harry pulled the top drawer open. There were a couple of clean, folded shirts inside. They looked like the type that Snape wore. The second drawer held what looked like underwear. Harry closed it quickly. The third drawer held several small bottles of potions, labeled in Snape's own handwriting, plus what looked like personal papers. He pulled one out and stepped closer to the light from Ron's wand.
"Look at this. It's release papers from Azkaban, with his name on them."
"So this *is* his room then. Does it say what he was in for?" Ron scanned the paper.
"It says, 'for being a Death Eater, and particpating in many nefarious crimes against humanity'. Merlin, he was given a life sentence!"
Ron sniggered, "No wonder he reformed. Anyone would when faced with a choice like that."
For some reason this comment also angered Harry. He had seen things in Snape's mind that led him to believe that the man had never had a choice, in anything.
Harry put the paper away and shut the drawer. "Come on, let's get him to bed then."
He levitated Snape inside and gently laid him on the bed. It was cold in the cell, and he realised with a shock that there was no fireplace. He pulled one of the blankets out from under the Professor and with it came a thin grey nightshirt.
"We should try to make him comfortable," Harry said, tugging off the prone man's boots. Snape's socks did not have holes in them, but they were worn very thin.
Ron snorted. "Go for your life, mate, but there's no way I'm touching that greasy son of a bitch."
Harry gave him a stern look, but Ron walked out like a man who had no intention of coming back.
Harry looked in the bottom drawer for a potion labeled 'Hangover Cure' in vain. He settled the man as comfortably as he could, covering him with the blankets and placing a warming spell over him.
He got up to leave, glancing around the room again. There was no obvious access to a bathroom. He wondered where Snape washed. Oh god, he thought with a pang, is *that* why his hair is always so greasy? He has nowhere to wash it. Harry gulped. He felt sick. Suddenly he had lots of questions and the only source of information was Albus Dumbledore. Obviously Snape would not discuss his private matters with Harry Potter. As he left the room the door closed with a whomp and the key turned by itself in the lock.
Author: D G Spendlove
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: R
Summary: Harry and Snape get together, eventually.
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. No money being made, etc.
Chapter 1
Severus Snape sat in the darkest corner of the "Hounds of Hell" and threw back another jigger of firewhiskey. He was forty years old and his life was over. Voldemort had been destroyed once and for all, and with him, his sole purpose in life. He felt redundant. He'd spent his entire adult life either fighting for Voldemort or fighting against him.
The Dark Lord had defined his entire adult life. Without him, he felt like nothing. He was drinking to forget - and so far it was working. He forgot where his legs were and his whole body was numb. He forgot the spell to disapparate and he forgot where he would have gone to anyway. He raised his head and surveyed the dimly lit room, looking unsteadily for the easiest way to the bathroom.
He was so far-gone that his field of vision had narrowed right down and the room was spinning alarmingly. He folded his arms and collapsed onto them. He shut his eyes tightly and prayed for oblivion. The nauseous feeling abated somewhat with his head down, as long as he didn't move. The room around him seemed to be madly rotating and the nausea flowed in and out like waves. The noise from the crowded pub now faded to a dull roar.
* * * * * * * * * *
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, aurors in training, had been sent by Albus Dumbledore to look for Professor Snape. He had disappeared after an argument with Dumbledore after the latest Friday night meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.
It was a cold January Saturday, and Albus had become worried when Snape did not return to Hogwarts. They were reluctant to do the job, but Albus had reminded them that the members of the Order should stick together and look after their own. They had split up about an hour ago. It was three am and they'd been to almost every pub in Diagon Alley and Knockturn alley. Harry was starting to give up, find Ron and go home when he noticed a banner down a side alley, which proclaimed the 'Hounds of Hell'. //That sounds like *his* kind of place// he thought, and shouldered his way through the door.
It was dark and smoky inside and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He peered through the gloom and went up to the bar. A couple of hags eyed him warily. He cleared his throat and caught the bartender's attention.
"Excuse me, " he said politely, putting down a couple of galleons. "I'm looking for a wizard from Hogwarts."
The old and grizzled man looked at him quizically with his one good eye, then jerked a thumb towards the back corner. "Over there, in the corner, he ain't no regular. Powerful wizard, though."
Harry looked over. Severus Snape did not look particularly powerful right now. His head was resting on his hands, his greasy dark hair covering his face and spilling onto the bar table. Harry strode over to him.
As he stood there looking down at his former teacher he heard a groan.
"Sir?" he said, hesitantly.
Snape looked up blearily, not really seeing Harry and muttered, "I think I'm going to be sick." He put a hand to his mouth and tried to get up. Harry stood back quickly as Snape leaned over and proceeded to vomit all over his shoes.
A hag who had been watching sidled up to Harry and said, "If anyone did that t'me, I'd hex 'em."
Harry ignored her and spelled the mess away. He hauled Snape out of the seat and held him upright. Harry cast another spell to make his burden weigh less and with his arms holding up the older wizard, dragged him into a dingy men's room. He pushed him into the only cubicle and heard Snape collapse on the floor and then start vomiting again.
Harry stood outside, feeling slightly revolted. He had never seen Snape in this condition. It seemed odd that he would go off the deep end now, when all the pressure was off. Years spent as a spy hadn't cracked his stern façade, and now, here he was - when they had finally won - absolutely cracking up. He pulled out his message sphere and called Ron.
"Ron, I've found him. Meet me outside 'The Evil Weed'," he said.
He looked under the door of the stall. Snape appeared to have passed out on the floor. Harry rolled his eyes, waved his wand and said, "Alohamora." It was hard to push the door open as Snape was behind it. Finally he dragged him out, pulled him over to the sinks and splashed some water on his face. Harry tried to wake him up to no avail.
He shook his head in disgust, and levitated the slimy git back into the bar, out the door and down the road to his rendezvouz with Ron.
Ronald Weasley stood alone in the middle of Knockturn Alley, kicking absentmindedly at the gutter. He kept his head down and tried not to attract any attention. There were some decidedly weird looking specimens around. He looked up as he heard someone approach. It was a tall slim wizard of indeterminate age. He was wearing a dark suit and faintly reminded him of Snape.
"Nice evening," the man said, meeting his eyes and giving him a brief but searching look."Are you waiting for someone?" He then looked him up and down, his eyes stopping to rest at his crotch level. "How much for the rest of the night?"
Ron blinked. He felt himself flush. "Oh, um.....I'm not, er...."
"Pity," said the man, suddenly reaching out and running his hand down Ron's arm. "See you later."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief as the man walked slowly away, looking back at him every now and again. He was never more relieved than when he saw Snape floating down the alley, closely followed by Harry.
"Am I glad to see you, mate!" he exclaimed as Harry approached. "What's wrong with him?"
"Drunk as a skunk." Harry pulled out the Portkey the Headmaster had given him and held it out to Ron. He released the levitation spell on Professor Snape and caught him carefully, holding him upright while Ron activated the Portkey that would take them all back to Hogwarts.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Headmaster met them at the gates and guided them to a secret passage that led directly down into the dungeons. Harry levitated Snape again and they followed Dumbledore down a dank, musty tunnel. He then led them up a narrow, twisting spiral staircase that did not move. It was recessed into a buttressed column and Harry had to be very careful not to knock Snape's head on the stonework.
Harry noticed that the Headmaster's steps got slower the further up they went. He was still weak from the final battle and Harry was worried about him.
"We'll look after him from here, sir," Harry said as they paused at the top of the staircase. "If you could just show us where his quarters are?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you, Harry. I am feeling rather drained tonight. His room is just along this corridor. Third door on the left." With that Dumbledore bade them goodnight and disappeared through a doorway that appeared in the wall beside him.
"Come on Harry, let's get rid of this greasy git and get back to Grimmauld Place." Ron walked ahead. "Here it is," he announced, "Third door on the left."
Harry came up with the Professor's body floating along in front of him. He carefully deposited it on the floor. He had to admit he was curious to see the Potion masters quarters. In the seven years he had been at Hogwarts he had never even managed to get a glimpse of Snape's private living space.
His Occlumency lessons had always been held in Snape's office. As far as he knew, none of the students had even been invited to Snape's private sanctuary. He imagined it as a cosy suite of rooms, with a sitting room filled with bookcases piled high with weighty tomes on Potions and other magical subjects. A roaring fire with an old worn wingback chair in front of it, with an antique table nestling close by to hold the inevitable cup of steaming tea.
There would be a door in one wall, left slightly ajar to reveal a glimpse of an enormous four poster bed, hung in green and silver and spread with black satin sheets.
His imaginings could not have been further from the truth.
Ron tried a spell to open the door, but nothing happened. Harry noticed a large old cast iron key protruding from the keyhole and turned it. The lock clicked and the door creaked open.
Harry and Ron peered into the darkness. Ron whispered a spell that would light the wall sconces, but nothing happened. He looked at Harry, mystified. Then he used his wand to cast lumos, walking into the room.
"Are you sure this is the right room?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion.
"This was the third door on the left." Ron was looking around too. "And it's not a room. It's a bloody cell!"
Harry and Ron perused the cell in silence. It was about ten foot square and the ceiling, floor and walls were all bare, bleak grey granite. A narrow metal bunk was suspended from one wall cantilevered on hinges and chains. It was spread with a thin old mattress and blankets that had seen better days. High on one wall was a grated opening, presumably for ventilation as it did not admit any light.
Another wall held manacles and hand and foot level.
Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror.
"Gawd, no wonder he was always stalking around the castle at night! How could anyone *sleep* in here?"
For some unknown reason Harry was moved to anger on Snape's behalf. Dumbledore knew what this room was like. Why on earth didn't he give Snape something more comfortable?
Next to the bed was a small chest of drawers. Harry pulled the top drawer open. There were a couple of clean, folded shirts inside. They looked like the type that Snape wore. The second drawer held what looked like underwear. Harry closed it quickly. The third drawer held several small bottles of potions, labeled in Snape's own handwriting, plus what looked like personal papers. He pulled one out and stepped closer to the light from Ron's wand.
"Look at this. It's release papers from Azkaban, with his name on them."
"So this *is* his room then. Does it say what he was in for?" Ron scanned the paper.
"It says, 'for being a Death Eater, and particpating in many nefarious crimes against humanity'. Merlin, he was given a life sentence!"
Ron sniggered, "No wonder he reformed. Anyone would when faced with a choice like that."
For some reason this comment also angered Harry. He had seen things in Snape's mind that led him to believe that the man had never had a choice, in anything.
Harry put the paper away and shut the drawer. "Come on, let's get him to bed then."
He levitated Snape inside and gently laid him on the bed. It was cold in the cell, and he realised with a shock that there was no fireplace. He pulled one of the blankets out from under the Professor and with it came a thin grey nightshirt.
"We should try to make him comfortable," Harry said, tugging off the prone man's boots. Snape's socks did not have holes in them, but they were worn very thin.
Ron snorted. "Go for your life, mate, but there's no way I'm touching that greasy son of a bitch."
Harry gave him a stern look, but Ron walked out like a man who had no intention of coming back.
Harry looked in the bottom drawer for a potion labeled 'Hangover Cure' in vain. He settled the man as comfortably as he could, covering him with the blankets and placing a warming spell over him.
He got up to leave, glancing around the room again. There was no obvious access to a bathroom. He wondered where Snape washed. Oh god, he thought with a pang, is *that* why his hair is always so greasy? He has nowhere to wash it. Harry gulped. He felt sick. Suddenly he had lots of questions and the only source of information was Albus Dumbledore. Obviously Snape would not discuss his private matters with Harry Potter. As he left the room the door closed with a whomp and the key turned by itself in the lock.