THE LAST PRINCE (T; MYSTERY/ ROMANCE; SS/ HP)
Summary: see Chapter 20
Disclaimer: See Part I: Prologue
Warnings: See Part I: Prologue.
Legend: "Dialogue/ Speech" 'Thoughts' Flashback Notes
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A/N: I don't think I got more than 15 reviews for the last update. Are you guys losing interest or anything? Well, here's Chapter 27. Enjoy. I still hope you review. They give me good moods that make me want to update sooner. I don't know when the next one will be though as the holidays are fast-approaching and I have a ton to do. I hope I can update next week. If not, I'll be back the week after with at least two chapters –C.
NOTE: If you're wondering, I picture Severus' hair like Alan Rickman's in the first movie. He looks the same too. Tristan's hair is Daniel Radcliffe's in the GOF movie –longish and wild –but auburn, about three shades darker than Ron's. As Harry though, his hair is more like the 7th and 8th movie –cropped but still unruly.
P.S. Vote Darren Criss for Favorite TV Comedic Actor for the 2014 People's Choice Awards. See my Twitter on how you can vote.
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The Last Prince II
The Pact and a Prophecy
By: C.M. Oliver
© 2013
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CHAPTER 27: The Prince's Worries
The Seven Guardians had left not too long after the prophecy had been delivered, leaving two wizards and a witch to contemplate on its meaning. It was Harry who broke the silence first.
"This is just…" He ran his fingers through his already messy locks. "I don't know. I need time to think. I need to contact Gareth. Minerva, may I use your floo to go to my Manor?"
"Certainly, Harry. Do be careful."
The young man gave her a smile before giving Severus a peck on the cheek.
"I'll be back soon."
He then vanished in a curtain of emerald flames. As soon as he did, Severus let out a breath he did not know he was holding. "He's upset. And understandably, he should be. I just wish I knew how to help him, Minerva." The formidable witch looked at him knowingly.
"You do know what to do, Severus. You and Harry may have only been romantically involved for a few weeks, but in truth, you've known him as long as most of us do. And, even with that, you probably understand him better than most of us."
"I'm afraid I do not comprehend your logic, Minerva. Harry had just left to seek another's counsel, not mine. Apparently he does not wish to have me beside him at the moment."
Minerva chuckled lightly. "Is that a hint of self-doubt I hear, Severus?" Her banter was met by a half-hearted glare.
"I fail to see the humor in all this, Headmistress."
"Oh, you poor soul. For an intellectual man, you are quite naïve, Severus Snape." She waved her wand and a tea service appeared on her desk. Two cups were poured out. To one, she added nothing but lemon. This, she handed to her Deputy. The other cup was flooded with cream. She took a small sip. "Tell me, child, what do you know of Harry Potter?"
Severus frowned.
"I fail to see how such an exposition of Lord Peverell's attributes would help me see the proverbial light."
"Oh, do enlighten this old witch, Severus."
The Potions Master took a sip of his own tea. "He's strong, brave, foolhardy, loyal and passionate. He rarely thinks before he acts, but when he does, his cunning can rival Salazar Slytherin's. He was brash when he was younger and noble to a fault. But I would like to believe that he has mellowed out when he came into his Peverell inheritance. He's still chivalrous and selfless, but he's matured. He remains steadfast and true to the people he loves and tries really hard to shield them from pain…" His voice trailed as a look of realization dawned upon his face. "Merlin, he left because he wanted to spare me, did he not? Protect me from his inevitable emotional outburst…" Severus sighed as he placed his teacup down. "I am completely hopeless, Minerva. I thought he –"
"He did not need you?" Minerva finished for him with a grin. "Maybe not at this moment, Severus, but Harry needs you, no doubt. You know how our Mr. Potter grew up without familial affection. He isn't used to discussing his problems and emotions with other people –why I remember even Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger weren't all privy to his tribulations. He needs his quiet 'alone' time to deal. I assure you though that he would be glad for any distraction you may be able to provide him with until he deems himself ready to discuss his feelings."
The onyx-eyed man looked surprised. "Since when have you become the relationship expert?" The witch just smiled and shooed the man towards the floo.
"Go find your man and get to work!"
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Severus did floo a few minutes later to Peverell Manor on Carlisle Hill to search for his lover. He arrived at the sitting room, which was empty at that moment. Harry must still be in his office with Gareth. The Potions Master sighed and took his seat in one of the many leather armchairs in the pale green room. A quick glance on the clock by the mantelpiece proclaimed it to be half-past ten in the evening.
'Had it just been 3 hours?' Severus thought. Three hours ago, he was merely worrying about his ridiculous Batman costume… it all seemed too petty now.
'Will Fate and Chance ever give us a break? Will it ever give Harry a break?' The man mused. 'I have long resigned myself to a difficult life, but Harry – he's strong and mature for his age –but he's just a young man, and he had just been through hell and back… why must it have to be him again?' His mind drifted back to the Fiama Prophecy. It was clear on who it was pertaining to.
'Harry is Light, I am Dark… but who is the long-forgotten foe? The Chosen One and his Prince Consort… shall no longer be a pair, but one and the same? Is this pertaining to the Pact? Merlin. This is all too much to think about.'
A long, deep sigh escaped the Potions master's lips
'If there is only something I cold do to shield Harry from all this. It was easier when it was only Voldemort –at least we knew the enemy. But now –'
His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.
"Severus?" It was Harry –his unglamored, plain white shirt and dark denim jean-clad self. Severus thought that the young man had never more looked as beautiful and vulnerable at the same time as he did right then. He wasn't Harry Potter; He wasn't Lord Peverell; He wasn't the Chosen One –he was just Harry, the man he fell in love with. The older wizard studied his lover's face: Harry had a small smile on his lips, but his eyes, his evergreen eyes held emotions that Severus knew the young man was wary of displaying freely.
"I thought it was you when I felt the wards shifting." Harry said, looking embarrassed. "It's quite late –you didn't have to follow me here, you know." He ran his fingers through his tousled hair. "I just –I just needed time to speak with Gareth and –"
Severus stood up from his seat and crossed the room to get to the man. Without further ado, he wrapped his arms around Harry and drew him in a tight embrace. "I know you'd rather be alone now, but when you had signed up for this –this –us –well, I do hope you did realize that you can never get rid of me again."
"Sev –"
"Brat. Stop hogging the spotlight. The prophecy is about us both. Let me my fifteen seconds, will you?" Severus teased. His effort drew a shaky laugh from the younger man. Severus pulled back a little to stare into those eyes he loved so much. Harry breathed.
"I'm new to this stuff, I'm sorry."
"Likewise I am, Lord Peverell."
"I'll never have a quiet life, won't I?"
The older wizard let a potions-stained hand brush stray strands of jet-black hair away from the handsome face. "If we're lucky, we will have gotten rid of all the possible dark lords before you turn one hundred and seventy-two."
"One hundred fifty more years of this?" Harry pretended to look shocked, but could not help but smile at his lover's efforts of lightening up his mood. Severus smirked.
"Well, we can spend that inside the Lair. I believe it will shorten the length of time drastically." Harry sighed and burrowed back into Severus' embrace. "I know it's inevitable, but I just don't want to think about it right now."
"I think I know of just the right distraction." Severus offered.
"What?" Harry looked up at him hopefully. The Potions Master chuckled at the younger's expression. "Not THAT distraction, Harry." The emerald-eyed man pouted.
"Oh, what then?"
Severus cocked an eyebrow.
"Why Lucius Malfoy's party, of course."
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For the second time in two days, Lord Prince was Lord Peverell's date at a function. This time though, the Batman and Robin costumes were nowhere to be seen. Tristan was in an expensive-looking slim-cut pearl grey robe, seemingly made out of pure Acromantula Silk. It was soft to the touch and shimmered beautifully against the light. The hemming was done with 24 karat gold thread that added to the captivating sparkle of the outfit. A bejeweled brooch, about the size of a snitch, was fastened on the left breast. It held the Peverell Coat of Arms. Three gold bars signified that the one wearing them was the current High Lord of Wizengamot. All in all, the ensemble radiated power, opulence and prestige –just as it should.
Severus was right beside him, in the man's customary black. The robes too were made of the same material as Tristan's and embroidered with silver thread. His brooch was that of the Prince Crest, with two gold bars designating him as the Head of a Ruling House. His statement was not as vulgar as his companion, but made to impress still.
The two apparated directly into a magnificent-looking lawn where elegant white peacocks were tethered. Tristan tapped Severus' shoulders as they walked towards the glittering white marble façade of Malfoy Manor.
"Should I begin putting falcons in my front yard?"
Severus smirked. "I think it would defeat the purpose of impressing visitors, Lord Peverell." Tristan snorted. "Malfoy's really an arrogant prat, isn't he?" The two finally reached the entrance where an elf clad in a pristine white toga baring the Malfoy Crest welcomed them.
"Greetings, your Lordships. The Master of the House is just behind the door, do come in." The massive doors opened from the inside and music began to play.
"Welcome to my humble abode Lord Peverell, Lord Prince." Lucius Malfoy curtly nodded at the pair which Severus returned promptly. "Lord Malfoy, a pleasure." Tristan on the other hand, merely stood, gazing around. To his host, it merely looked as if the High Lord was surveying his house. To Severus however, it seemed that Tristan was trying to figure out how a room done in marble and gold can be construed as 'humble'. The dark-eyed man cleared his throat, which thankfully brought his younger companion out of his private musings.
"Lord Malfoy, you have… a more than 'humble' home."
Lucius looked puzzled at the comment coming from the High Lord but recovered quickly. "Thank you, Lord. If you would please follow me into the parlor, so I could introduce you to other guests." Severus nodded his assent and led Tristan to follow the blonde aristocrat deeper into his home.
"Malfoy… is it just me, or is he wearing… red?" Tristan whispered behind his hand. Severus froze in his steps and threw a shrewd glance at their host. When he finally noticed what Tristan was saying, he replied back. "If you are seeing things, then that makes two of us. Lucius Malfoy is indeed garbed in scarlet robes."
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The parlor turned out to be a massive ballroom filled with the who's who in politics, sports, entertainment and the academe. Tristan was led around by his eager host and introduced personally to almost everyone present except perhaps the house elves. After about an hour, a tipsy, flustered High Lord slumped down on an empty seat, cradling his nth glass of champagne and nursing the beginnings of a full-blown headache. A black blur seated itself next to him.
"Merlin, Malfoy is such a princess! I felt like a spinning top! If I have to meet another 'dear, dear friend' of his, I'm going to rip off my robes and dance on top of that grand piano!" Tristan griped. A low chuckle escaped the lips of the black blur next to him.
"Please do, Lord Peverell. I believe that would certainly lighten things up around here."
Tristan almost dropped his champagne flute.
His eyes immediately landed on the man next to him. The onyxes were quite familiar, but the face and the voice that now came with it were not quite. He frowned.
"Who in the world are you?"
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Severus Snape just 'escaped' the company of those annoying members of the British Potions Guild that Lucius had managed to invite. He had just spotted his weary-looking lover settle himself in one of the many plush armchairs scattered around the perimeter of the dance floor and was on his way to join the young man, when another beat him to it.
Tristan did not even look at the newcomer, who was clad in black robes almost identical to Severus' own. There was a long golden pendant hanging around the strange man's neck. Tristan began talking in what Severus could guess as his 'ranting mode' –the young man hated social gatherings more than his older lover. The High Lord appeared to be unguarded. Severus watched the familiar scene with a growing sense of jealousy.
Tristan was close, too close to the other man. Did he not notice it wasn't Severus who was beside him?
Then, the scene changed. The strange man spoke and Tristan froze. A sharp glance to his right, and the High Lord was up on his feet.
"Who in the world –are YOU?"
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The strange man he mistook for Severus merely smiled. Tristan stared at the man in disbelief. Aside from the onyx eyes the stranger possessed, in a certain lighting, he seemed to share certain features with the Potions Master: the silky locks that were cut a bit shorter than Severus' feathered do, the thin –even thinner and paler –lips, the high, cheekbones and the still pale skin tone( but was slightly darker). Tristan was speechless.
"Lord Peverell," a familiar baritone came to his rescue. "Is there a problem?" Severus was beside him immediately, the man's own eyes scrutinizing the stranger. Tristan found his voice once more.
"I was merely ascertaining this gentleman's identity, Lord Prince. I had the embarrassment of mistaking him for you."
Severus took the liberty of glancing back at the still smiling stranger (the fact annoyed him like hell). He gave the man a glare before addressing his lover once more. "Merely the same coloring, Lord Peverell. However, you have up sot quite a number of champagne flutes so the mistake was understandable –"
The stranger laughed –it almost sounded like the Potions Master's own to Tristan's ears. "I assure you sir, it is more than just the coloring you speak of." The smiling man turned to Tristan and grabbed his hand. "Let me formally introduce myself, Lord Peverell," came the smooth tone. The stranger then made a move to kiss the back of the High Lord's hand.
"My name is Corvus Prince. Rightfully, the last Lord Prince."
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End A/N: Gasp! Who is Corvus Prince? How does he come into play with regards to the Pact and the new Fiama Prophecy? What do you think? Up Next: Chapter 28: A Real Prince. Just when you think Sev and Harry are a done deal… shit happens. Don't miss it! By the way, you can also check me and my stuff out at:
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Until next time! Love, C.
