Killing me softly
Think this is another Harry creature fic? Bit of angst and drama, then a romantic mate and creature union? - Think again. The Dark lord is rising, his powers grow ever stronger, Harry's time is coming, but his power alone isn't enough. Can his inheritance help him? Prepare for sacrifice.
Takes place in his last year
Warnings-
SS/HP + hints of DM-HP pairing – if you don't like that pairing then this likely isn't the fic for you. Don't like it – don't read it.
Character death
Chapter 7
Harry approached Snape's bedside silently. He felt at first, like he was truly seeing the man for the first time. Then he reminded himself that it was not by Snape's will that he would become Harry's virtual body shield, but the Daywalker's, and by extension, his own. He felt very strange, as he stood before the man. Despite Snape's rather broken appearance, an aura of underlying power seemed to surround the man and reverberate through the room. Harry realised in part, the emotion he was feeling concerning the man was awe. Snape wasn't literally chained to him, he could have taken off at any time, decided to take his chance with the world and if that should mean he would die then to hell with it! At least he would have been a man of his own destiny – Instead he was choosing to stay, to give him everything he possessed... A person couldn't help but be in awe of such a being, of someone who would sacrifice themselves to them so entirely, Snape was in essence, a classical martyr, a true hero....
Harry snorted. Ok perhaps 'hero' was overstating the case, at any rate Snape would fix him an acidic glare at even the thought of putting the words Snape and Hero in the same sentence. But nevertheless there was so much more to the man than Harry had ever recognised, had ever chosen to recognise...
"Any last words for the deceased?"
A croak of a voice, yet still managing to sound snide, ventured. Harry, who had been staring at a particular spot of Snape's blanket, lost entirely to his own bleak thoughts, immediately snapped his head up, at Snape's words he frowned un-amused.
"Not funny"
Snape merely rolled his bloodshot eyes.
"How long have you been here Harry?"
"A few minutes, Dumbledore told me about the bond"
A bitter smile began to spread over Snape's face at that.
"Apologies will be accepted with dutiful kneeling and a promised vow of servitude-"
"- What?"
Snape shook his head; he looked tired, yet exasperatedly amused, if such an expression could exist.
"Everything just goes right over your head doesn't it?"
At Harry continued baffled look, Snape groaned as if the look was actually physically hurting him to look at.
"Get on with it Potter, give me whatever fatally Gryffindor, guilt-ridden apology – actually no, don't. You need another 'pick up', kindly get on with it and leave me in relative peace."
"What!!!"
Harry exclaimed again, but this time in clear disbelief, Snape's dark eyes looked positively vicious as they settled on Harry once again.
"I really regret smashing your head into that wall you know, not only did I sustain the same injury, in my rage I quite neglected to consider the fact that you don't have a million brain cells to lose – Get on with it!"
There was another emotion lurking in Snape's voice, hidden beneath the layers of anger, frustration and sarcasm... there was fear, Snape was scared of the drain.
"No, no I can't take from you when you're in this state."
Snape looked at him strangely then, as if he was pondering on Harry's words, and giving them a great deal of consideration, assessing the motives behind them.
"I thank you for your concern Harry, truly. But I will go as far to say that it is at best futile and at worst counter-productive"
Harry tried his best to clamp down on the righteous anger that flared in to life at Snape's ungracious words. Snape looked at him darkly amused.
"That wasn't actually intended to offend. I merely wish to point out that whilst you go acting the self-sacrificing hero, determined not to take 'advantage' of me whilst i'm in my weakened state, your need will increase. The drain will be more intense, my recovery will be more hindered if you wait. Now please just take what is owed."
"Owed? Severus, you don't 'owe' me anything"
Snape snorted bitterly.
"Don't I? Let's not fall under the pretence that you're any happier being here than I am at having you here. I am your Mate, and because of who you are running for the hills is hardly a viable option. My remaining goal in life – god help me – is to prepare and sustain you for the battle. Thus as I have been 'chosen' to do this, you are owed my life – So let us get this disagreeable affair over with and both retire."
An unusual feeling was pulsating through Harry at Snape's words. He wasn't quite sure what it was he felt, just that it was acutely unpleasant.
"So... If I hadn't been 'The Boy Who Lived' if I had been just Harry, you would have left?"
Once again, Snape's eyes seemed to pierce his own, their pierce was fraught with repressed pain.
"If you had been 'just Harry' I doubt I would have been your intended"
Harry pulled his gaze away, faced away from the bed, and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath, when he reopened them and looked back at Snape, they appeared heavily burdened.
"I'm sorry Severus"
"Don't forget the servitude promise"
Snape added dryly, for some reason, whereas before this had ignited confusion, now it simply frustrated him. It was as if Snape was trivialising his apology.
"I am genuinely sorry, why can't you just accept-"
"I do... Harry this is simply the result of us not truly knowing one another... That and you're at present incapability to truly understand and appreciate sarcasm"
Harry rolled his eyes; his hand inched towards one of Snape's bigger and longer hands.
"It's the lowest form of wit you know"
Snape didn't miss a beat.
"One must actually possess wit before they can make such a declaration Potter"
Actually chuckling at that, Harry touched his hand.
Hey! So sorry for the huge gap, but I've been too busy revising for my Sociology exam, as ever cheerfully awaiting to receive your views and feedback
Regards
Lisi the slayer