Chapter 8
Harry woke with his face buried in Severus' shoulder and holding the man's waist. Severus had again tangled their legs together, but this time, Harry didn't want to escape. He felt as if someone had punched a bargepole through his chest. Remus gone … missing … probably dead. People didn't just go 'missing' with Voldemort running amok all over Britain, as much as Harry wanted to deny it.
The urge to weep overwhelmed him once more, but for Severus' sake, Harry kept his tears silent this time. The man had held him for hours the night before, reassuring Harry over and over again that Remus' disappearance and probable death wasn't his fault. The words had helped at the time, had soothed a horrible pain in his stomach, but in the light of day, Harry would not deny the truth.
While Remus had been missing and maybe dying, Harry had been gallivanting about the Scottish countryside and ignoring his duties. Severus had urged him over and over again to hurry and translate the book, but Harry kept pushing it back, pushing it away.
He had procrastinated Remus to death. It was his fault, no matter that Harry hadn't killed the man. If he hadn't pushed off reading the journal yesterday, he might have known by now where the last horcrux was and how to finally end the war. Yet, he had been afraid of the damn thing, and now Remus was gone. It was too late.
Harry held onto Severus and, just for an instant, buried his head in the man's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Severus' warmth and the sound of his life, the feel of the man wrapped around him, the scent of his sleep-warmed skin gave Harry the strength he needed to carefully extricate himself and make his way to the table. After grabbing a quilt from the other bed and casting a warming charm on it, he wrapped himself up in an armchair and translated. A nearby notepad and biro provided a handy way to record his oral translation, and the sound of Severus' breathing kept him anchored through the vile, soul-chilling work.
So help him, no one else would die on his watch. He had had his moment of play. Now it was time to work and fight and end the war before more dear friends perished.
Harry didn't think he could survive if he lost anyone else he loved. He didn't know if he would even want to.
Severus woke to chilly blankets and an empty bed, and for one terrifying moment, he feared Harry had left him alone. Had tired of his snark and his awkwardness and left him to perish. But no. Harry had only gone to sit at the table.
From his quiet corner of the bed, Severus observed him unnoticed. Harry shivered in his quilt, muttering to himself and writing something by the light of a dim Lumos. The young man's expression alternated between intense concentration and utter horror. As Severus watched, the horror again took over Harry's features and a tear dropped from the edge of his jaw.
The journal. Harry hated translating it, especially alone, but he had apparently laid his fears aside after hearing of Lupin's disappearance. His death, more likely. Severus knew well that, in this war, people disappeared permanently. He wished he could comfort Harry, but it would be a lie, and Harry knew it.
Still, he might offer comfort for this, for that moment, when Harry wept while struggling alone to translate the writings of a deranged serial killer, and one who had murdered most of Harry's own friends and family. Quietly, he rose and padded to Harry's side. Harry didn't blink, caught as he was in the horror of whatever appalling crime Tom Riddle Jr. had committed to memory this time. Severus took great care as he eased a warm hand under Harry's quilt and rubbed the young man's neck. Even so, Harry nearly leapt from his seat at the gentle touch.
"What the … oh. Good m-morning, Severus. Did I w-wake you?"
Sniffles and breaks punctuated his voice, and Severus simply reached down and caught the young man into a hug.
"You needn't have worked on that without me." Severus straightened and petted Harry's hair. "I would have been glad to help."
Harry buried his face in Severus' stomach and hugged the man's waist. "I can't wait. Can't let anyone else die because of me."
Severus' face flamed at the intimate way Harry held him, but he found he didn't mind the close contact. He tentatively stroked Harry's hair and tried not to tremble, for his companion's sake.
"Ssh. How many times must I tell you, Potter, that it wasn't your fault?"
Harry lifted his head and gave Severus a wry, tearful smile. "Apparently as many times as I'll have to remind you to call me by my first name."
Severus' face grew hotter. "I don't … it is not that I resist out of a lack of feeling, but I have rarely had the freedom to take such liberties, and it … it frightens me, Pott—H-Harry."
Harry's expression softened. "You're afraid I'll be angry with you?"
Severus inclined his head. "I am more afraid that you will … withdraw the privilege. I do not want to … overuse it."
Harry shook his head and smiled. "You can't overuse it, Severus, unless you stand there calling my name over and over for maybe an hour or so. Then I might tell you to stop for a bit."
Severus snorted. "Yes, well, in that case, I believe I would tell myself to."
He touched his fingertips to the young man's shoulder, even after all this time, still afraid to see him recoil, and gave him a little smile when Harry allowed the contact without a flinch. Severus didn't know why he still feared losing his new companion and ally, but he knew no one had ever touched his heart—or touched him—the way Harry did. Even Lily had never been so tactile with him, and Severus found, to his surprise, that he liked Harry's gentle hugs and touches, the way he felt wrapped around him at night—even if it did make for some awkward moments.
Severus hadn't felt so warm and cared for since Regulus.
Cold grief gripped his heart. Even after so long, Regulus Black was still the only man to have truly believed in him. The only one to ever trust him enough to bare his heart and soul, and even his body, while asking only Severus' trust in return. Gods, Severus missed him. He closed his eyes, and he could almost feel that oceans deep gaze he remembered every night, when he went to sleep alone.
"Hey," Harry said in soft tones, "where did you go? You're far away, and it looks like it hurts."
Severus' eyes met Harry's, and he gave the younger man a shy smile. "I was, and it did, but I will be well enough. I was only remembering someone."
"Mum?"
"Not quite. Did you discover anything helpful in your work?"
Harry shook his head, lowering his eyes as if ashamed. "I tried, I worked as fast as I could, but it only talked about the Death Eaters and who would have what role and why, listed some of their more gruesome crimes and some of Riddle's own, and of course there was the ever-present monologuing."
"Again, 'monologue' is not a verb."
"Yeah, it is. Riddle's made it one with all the grand speeches about his greatness and brilliance and whatnot. Gods, he once went on for ten pages about nothing but how great he was as compared to us lowly half-blood peons. Which is a bit funny, considering he's a half-blood. The hypocrite."
Severus smirked. "Only once?"
"The other times were more like seven pages."
Severus snorted. "He is a megalomaniac, Potter. What did you expect?"
"I dunno, the next horcrux maybe?"
"In time, Potter. That isn't only a record of horcruxes. For all we know, there may be another journal we never found, or he never had the opportunity to record the others."
Harry looked so horrified at this, Severus had to modify his blunt statement.
"I do not believe there is, however. Albus must have known about those locations on the map somehow. He cannot read Parseltongue, but perhaps he interpreted the code of it where I had not enough time to."
Harry stared at the book again, the conflict of need and disgust warring upon his face. "I, I have to read more. It might just be on the next page."
Severus rubbed Harry's shoulder. "If you will allow me to use the loo and freshen up a bit, I will stay with you while you work on that. We shall order room service for breakfast in an hour or so, if that is acceptable to you."
Harry turned away and picked up his biro once more. "I'm not really hungry. I just need to—"
Severus took his pen away. "You need to stop. I can tell by the way you were shivering and how much you have written that you have already been at this for hours. Did you even use the loo yourself this morning? I did not hear anything."
Harry blushed and shook his head.
"Hmm." Severus dropped the biro into his trouser pocket. "Rest, Harry. Sit and recover your breath a few moments. I will only be gone long enough to refresh myself. Then you shall refresh yourself. Then, and only then, will I return your biro."
"You know there are probably others in the desk," said a grumpy Harry.
"Of course, but I am trusting you not to take them."
Harry looked to the journal with a fearful expression. "But if I stop—"
"Harry. It is only a moment. We will continue working on it as soon as I am finished. I do not want you reading that monstrosity while you are alone. Promise me you will wait for me."
Harry sighed and laid the book aside with a shaking hand. "A-all right, but only because you called me 'Harry.'"
Severus chuckled. "Had I known I could use it to accomplish my ends, I would have begun utilising it sooner."
"Humph. Sneaky Slytherin."
"Indeed." Severus smiled and patted Harry's shoulder. "I will be back."
Harry nodded and let him go, but the way he stared at the book and pinned his arms about his chest as if to force them not to write made Severus nervous. Harry was only keeping his word by the slimmest of threads. Only the day before, the young man couldn't bear to look at the journal without Severus holding him in some manner. Today he couldn't stop translating, as if he believed his life depended on it.
Severus sighed and went into the loo. Harry probably did believe that. Lupin's death had been one loss too many. He was broken inside, desperate to save everyone, and Severus hadn't the slightest idea of how to save Harry. How to prevent him from going down the same path that had destroyed Severus' own life.
He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering how Harry could touch him. How could Harry look at such a face and call him handsome?
Severus shook his head. Handsome he was not, but he was brave and determined, and he would be damned before he let Harry become another Severus Snape, destroying himself by inches in search of atonement.
No. Severus had lost too many people as well. He could not lose Harry. He would save the young man from himself, somehow.
Three days passed with little change. No news came of Remus, neither good nor bad, and the raids continued in the meantime. Each time Potterwatch or the Muggle news mentioned another death, whether of someone Harry knew or not, the young man curled into himself a little more. He spent every waking moment with that journal, growing paler and weaker by the day, refusing meals, refusing sleep, hardly even stopping to use the loo let alone shower. Severus tried to help, tried to pull him out of his funk, but at each attempt to get him to eat or sleep or shower, he only sneered and pulled further away.
Severus was at a loss. He had no idea how to save someone who didn't believe himself worth saving.
After all, he had never been able to save himself, had he?
The third evening, as a worried Severus worked on the theory of anti-venom strong enough to protect from Riddle's beast of a snake and Harry translated beside him, Lee Jordan's grave voice came through the radio.
"Listeners, forgive me. I'm afraid we have terrible news, and so close on the heels of Romulus' disappearance, too."
Beside Severus, Harry stiffened and gripped his biro until his knuckles turned white. Severus murmured, "Come," and motioned Harry to sit with him on his bed.
Harry hesitated, staring at the journal.
"River's right," said Fred Weasley.
"Merlin," Harry breathed. The tears in Weasley's voice sent a wide-eyed, shaking Harry rocketing into Severus' arms.
Weasley continued, "Many medical personnel besides those from St. Mungo's apparated in to help with the disaster at Grimmauld Place. Among those was, was—" He took a deep breath. "Was Poppy Pomfrey of Hog—"
"No!" Harry sobbed and buried his head in Severus' chest. "No. Not, not her, too."
Severus felt much the same. The infirmary nurse was one of the few people who had never seen him as a worthless Slytherin but treated him with the same compassion and motherly nature she did for all her students. Even after Albus, she had kept her unbiased demeanour. He wondered how much of it was an act, or if the woman truly believed there was more to the story and hesitated to dismiss Severus as a traitor, as everyone else had done. Not that he blamed them. It was exactly how they were supposed to see him.
Unable to speak for his suffocating grief, he hugged Harry tighter and tried to keep his head clear enough to listen.
"—apparated in Friday morning to help with the disaster, but failed to report to the next check-in. Officials searched the area she was last seen, but could find no trace. She has not been seen or heard from since." Fred's voice broke. "Madame Pomfrey is—gods, she's a wonderful woman. Can't tell you the number of times she patched me up after an, ahem, experiment gone wrong. Hogwarts won't be the same without her."
Lee took over. "Rapier, we don't know that she's gone forever yet. And to that end, I urge our listeners to keep a lookout for her—and for Romulus—and report any information to Kingsley Shacklebolt at twenty-two Bingham Way or Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizar—" Several sharp taps interrupted Lee. "Cor blimey, is that an owl? Oh no. Rapier!"
Fred broke in, "Listeners, we're out. Next word is 'Lily.' Keep faith."
The broadcast cut to static, and Harry slumped against Severus with a cry. "They, they'll be okay, won't they? Won't they?"
Severus had no answers. He could only pull Harry tighter into his arms and try to brace him against the storm.
Harry was in the red field again, only this time the mist curling around his feet was a thick, poisonous green, and it hurt when it touched him. A heartbeat fluttered in the distance, growing weaker by the second, and this time, Harry understood. Another one of his loved ones was dying, and somehow his strange dream power had again called him to intervene. He had no idea who it could be—any number of his friends could have been attacked—but whoever it was would not have to wait as long as Severus had for his cure. Harry knew how to help now.
With a huff of determination, he bolted towards the heartbeat and did not hesitate when his wings spread out. He shot like a rocket into the sky and, when he could see clearly, zipped as fast as he could fly after the white light in the distance. 'Hurry, hurry, hurry.' It rang over and over in his head like a mantra. Whether he realised it consciously, somehow he knew this poison was far more dangerous than the kind he had saved Severus from. His own heart pounded like a timpani in time to the dying person's, and he forced himself to fly faster, flap harder, till it felt his wings might break from the force.
In spite of his best efforts, the white light ahead suddenly dimmed to grey. A surge of terror nearly strangled Harry as the heartbeat stopped. 'No!'
"Fuck!" Harry flattened himself and shot toward the glow like a torpedo. The light went darker every second and his wings ached with the force of his flight, but Harry refused to give up. He would not let anyone else die. Not for him. Not for anything.
The green mist ended just metres away from the flickering dark-grey light. Finally! He had almost come too late. Almost, but not quite. With a primal cry, he turned his back on the dying glow and attacked the poisonous mist with everything he had.
Nothing happened.
"No," Harry breathed. "No! I won't let them die!"
He flapped his wings and, on instinct, jerked his arms down in a sort of throwing motion. To his shock, white bolts of lightning followed his fingers on the downstroke.
"What the hell?"
Harry looked down and gasped. The green mist had receded, its ghostly fingers curling in on themselves as if afraid of further pain. He jerked his arms up, then down once more experimentally, and he cheered as the lightning shot towards the mist again.
"Hah!" He charged again, determination and hope renewed, and fought the mist with all his might. Slowly, it backed away, giving an eerie screaming hiss every time the lightning struck. A snake? So some sort of venomous serpent had bitten whoever he had been called to rescue.
Nagini. With the strength of the venom and the way it almost seemed to fight back, it had to be Nagini. Besides that, Harry thought he recognized her stench from his visions.
Harry uttered his next cry in Parseltongue. "Go back to hell where you belong, you demented bitch!"
To his shock, the next time his hands came down, fire shot out with the lightning. With a feral grin, Harry fought and electrocuted and burned until the last of the green mist let out a horrible shriek reminiscent of the dying locket and burned to ashes. He hadn't meant to send the venom to hell literally, but he'd take it.
With relief and adrenaline-charged joy pumping through his veins, Harry whooped in triumph and alighted next to the ash. He hadn't dared turn his back on the almost-sentient green mist to check on the person's life-force, but with the venom gone, he turned now.
The heartbeat had returned, weak, but present, and the light still flickered grey. Every moment, both heartbeat and life-force grew stronger. After such a fierce battle for his unknown friend's life, exhaustion weighed on him with the force of a fifty-tonne articulated lorry, but Harry forced himself to stay conscious. Finally, the heartbeat returned to normal and light turned from dark grey to plain grey, to silver, and finally back to full, brilliant white once more.
Harry had saved them, whoever they were.
"Thank Merlin," he whispered, and curled up on a bed of fluffy red grass.
When Severus awoke, Harry was nose-deep in that horrid journal again. After the broadcast from the night before, Severus couldn't say he hadn't been expecting it, but damn. He'd hoped Harry could understand Poppy's likely death wasn't his fault.
With a heavy sigh, Severus retreated to the loo for his morning ablutions, and feeling refreshed, returned to Harry's side. He settled in the chair next to Harry's and took the biro from his hand.
"Translate out loud, if you must read from that horrid journal at five in the morning."
Harry gave Severus a wan smile. "All right."
Severus said nothing else, only took Harry's hand between both of his and held him tight as he read about Voldemort's lackeys, the Dark Lord's plans and grandstanding, and appalling records of heinous crimes. Merlin. Even Severus hadn't realised the Dark Lord was quite that bloodthirsty. It was putting him off breakfast.
"There's something here," Harry muttered. "I can feel it. 'I thought Abraxas would make an excellent addition to my collection. The father of a loyal servant? Yes, it suited well. So I lured him on pretences of a parley at heart taint'—no. Hard tan … hard stain, oh! 'A parley at Hearthstane, neutral ground for him, and a nexus of power for me. The seven-fold protection was complete by dawn.' This is it! Severus, we found it! The last horcrux."
Severus shuddered. "Wonderful, Potter. And after that will be a detailed dissertation on the vile methods Riddle used to murder him in cold blood. Might we take a break for a meal before I become too ill to eat?"
"I don't want to stop," Harry muttered. "Just give me my biro back and I'll translate to myself while you're eating."
Severus sighed and moved to kneel before Harry. "You need to rest and eat too. You are pushing yourself too hard."
Harry's face screwed up in anger. "Give me my biro, Severus! I can't stop. I can't! Don't you understand? Remus is gone, Pomfrey is gone, Fred and Lee might be gone too, and just last night I had to dream-walk or whatever it is to save someone from that twisted snake. I can't just sit on my arse and sip tea while they're out there dying!"
Severus gaped. "Dream-walking seems an adequate term for it, but you saved someone again last night? Who?"
"I don't know, Severus. When I saved you, all I could see was a field of red grass, purple mist, a reddish-violet sky with no stars. Once I figured out I had wings, I also saw an orb of white light on the horizon. The purple mist was like fingers reaching for it. I heard a heartbeat as well—it sounded sick, and I could feel you, so I knew who it was. With this person, I only saw the world as I described it—only the mist was vivid green and much harder to fight—and I felt nothing. There was only a heartbeat, and then it stopped. It took everything I had to save them, whoever they are. So I can't give up now. I have to keep going! They're all depending on me, and—"
"And they are wrong to do so!" With a heavy sigh, Severus knelt before Harry and held his hands. "Harry, the wizarding world is foolish for pinning all their hopes on one man. This is not your war alone. You are only one soldier, one fighter. And you cannot hope to do it all on your own." He held Harry's broken, angry gaze and suppressed a sniffle. "I know you want to save them, and you should do what is within your power—"
"And I was, when you took my biro! Give it here!"
Severus cried, "Harry, stop! You cannot keep doing this! That book is dangerous, and I … please! You are hurting yourself by reading it constantly."
"I don't care!" Harry's voice broke on a sob, and Severus flinched. "Gods damn it all, I don't care what happens to me! I can't … can't hear of even one more person … gone, just because some bint made a prophecy about me almost twenty years ago! I … I hate it! I hate knowing they're all dying, and it's my fault!" He broke into tears. "It's all my fault."
Severus conjured a tissue and wiped Harry's tears with gentle hands. "It is not your fault. You did not kill them. Riddle killed them. It is his fault, and no one else's save his minions'."
He leaned up and held Harry's shoulders. "Besides that, you may not care for your own life, but others do. How do you think Granger and Weasley will feel if you kill yourself trying to protect them, hmm? How would Poppy or Lupin feel knowing you either died or became as bitter as I was trying to atone for them? How, how do you think I—" Tears choked him, and he buried his head in his hand. "I cannot do this, Harry. I have already lost Lily. I cannot bear to s-stand by and do nothing. I won't! I cannot bear to lose you, too."
Harry was still for a long moment. "S-Severus? It hurts you that much?"
"Yes. It is like watching myself fall apart all over again."
Harry sighed and pulled him into a tearful, trembling hug. "I … I'm sorry. I just don't want anyone else to die."
"I know, Harry. I know. I don't want the next person listed on Potterwatch to be you."
Harry sniffled and buried his head in Severus' shoulder. "All right," he said between sobs. "All right. I … I'll try to take better care of myself. But I can't stop translating. I can't waste any more time."
"I will help you gladly if you will only promise me you will eat, sleep, shower, and take some little time to heal your mind after reading that atrocious thing. I cannot understand how you are able to sleep after reading it so close to bedtime."
Harry shrugged. "It's no different than the visions."
"You are still having them? Actively?"
Harry nodded grimly. "I see someone else tortured or killed almost every night since … since Grimmauld."
"You are speaking of Lupin's disappearance?"
Harry nodded and lowered his eyes. "I can't, can't say it. If I do …."
Severus heard the rest as if his younger self had been speaking of Lily. "If I do, it will make it real."
"I … understand, Harry."
Harry pulled him closer. "Yeah. I suppose you do."
Ignoring his body's needs didn't bother Harry much, not when it only hurt himself. After all, his relatives had starved and neglected him so often, it was almost force of habit to ignore his aching stomach and muscles in the summer. The Dursleys always 'fattened him up' a bit before school started so no one would suspect how they treated him at home—which, in his opinion, made their treatment of him even viler—but Harry would never forget Ron's face when he saw the bars on Harry's window. How thin and ill his friend was. How sick Harry was after—and even during—the Quidditch World Cup that year. Ron had known then that Harry was suffering, and his face had been a picture of grief and horror.
For the first time ever, Harry found himself thinking that Ron and Severus weren't so different. Both were stubborn, brilliant strategists, and hot-headed. Both hid their pain behind a veil of anger. And Harry hadn't had the chance to test him at a game of chess yet, but he was willing to bet that Severus was as hard to beat as Ron.
But the most important similarity lay in their hearts. Fickle and temperamental as Ron was, he would do anything to save Harry. And now that he knew Severus had almost died many times trying to save Harry's life even when he was still Snape, Harry realised that Severus would protect him in just the same way.
And Severus was trying to that moment. As Harry picked over his dinner and stared at the journal, Severus looked at him as if his friend was dying right before his eyes.
Perhaps, in a way, that was true. And despite Harry's burning need to end the war before anyone else could die, he could not hurt his friend. Not after watching him weep because Harry cared so little about his own life. With a sigh, he turned from the journal and forced down a few bites of pasta.
Hmm. Shrimp alfredo was pretty good, Harry decided, and ate a little more.
Severus reached across the table and caught Harry's cheek in a gentle hand. Harry gasped and almost choked on his pasta at the warm, tingly sensation the tender touch brought. Merlin! Severus had never touched him so softly, never caressed him openly like this, and Harry thought he would melt in the older man's hands.
"Thank you." Severus ran a thumb along Harry's cheekbone and arrested the younger man's breathing. "I know you are doing this for my benefit. I am grateful, Potter."
"H-Harry. My name is Harry." It came out breathless and shaky.
Severus withdrew his hand, leaving Harry bereft. "Yes, Harry."
Harry swallowed and gave the man a nod despite his distraction. What in the world was that? He had never felt so … so off kilter in his life. Why had a simple touch almost knocked him to his knees?
Harry's mind circled around it while he ate mindlessly, not tasting what he put in his mouth. He couldn't have said what the sides were for his dinner when Severus whisked their empty plates away.
After room service had come and gone to remove the plates, Severus' voice cut across his thoughts. "It is time to try Potterwatch again, Harry. Are you well enough?"
Harry shook himself. "Yeah. Got to be. Only, stay near me?"
Severus sat upon his bed and held an arm out for Harry to curl into his side. Harry dashed into his arms and pressed his face against Severus' chest.
"I never imagined you would be so open and affectionate with me two weeks ago."
Severus trembled as he withdrew his wand. He slipped a hand into Harry's hair. "I never imagined you would let me."
"I like it. Right now, I need it."
Severus only pulled Harry closer. "Yes. So do I."
Harry gave him a wan smile. "I'm here. Turn it on now?"
Severus closed his eyes as if in pain and tapped the radio dial with his wand. "Lily flower," he murmured, and Harry hugged him tight.
"Good evening and welcome to Potterwatch," came Lee Jordan's voice a moment later, and Harry almost sobbed with relief.
"They're okay," he breathed into Severus' chest.
"Yes, so it seems." Severus ran his hand through Harry's mop and made the younger man shiver with inexplicable pleasure.
"—Rapier and River reporting to you from a new secure location," Lee continued. "And boy, do we ever have some good news for you."
"And about time, too," Fred replied. "If you'll remember last night, River and I saw an owl with a letter for us and had to move post-haste. Once we were somewhere safer and could accept the owl, we took his letter, and it was from Minerva at Hogwarts. It read that You-Know-Who had taken it into his head that Poppy Pomfrey gave the light hope, and he didn't want us to have any hope, so while she was working in the rubble, he sent his snake after her."
A horrified Harry cried, "That's not good news!"
"But," Lee took over, "today, the hospital workers found her—unconscious and injured, but alive! We, er, we don't honestly understand it. Poppy had been injured the day previous, when a portion of the building she had been working in collapsed and buried her in the rubble. Besides the injuries from that, there were two puncture bites and mysterious burn marks in her shoulder where Nagini had bitten her, and as venomous as that monster is, it should have killed her almost immediately even if the poor woman had managed to survive a wall falling on her.
We have no idea how she survived everything intact, but the hospital workers are saying she woke up for a bit on the way to St. Mungo's and was able to answer some questions properly. Because of this, because she woke at all, the prognosis for her making a full recovery is excellent."
Harry gripped Severus' waist. "She's alive. Oh gods, she's alive!" He buried his head in Severus' chest and wept in joyous catharsis that he had been able to spare at least one person he loved.
"You are incredible, Potter," Severus whispered in his ear, and the man's voice was as broken as Harry's. "Thank you for her."
Harry could only hold on tight and weep, such was the power of his relief.
"But that's not all we have to report from the scene of Madame Pomfrey's discovery," said a delighted Fred, startling Harry out of his tears. "The light has finally scored one hell of a blow against You-Know-Who."
He paused and let out a breathy whistle. "Merlin, I can't even begin to explain it. We … we're completely blown away. There's not a clue who or how or even why, but Pomfrey's mystery saviour did not stop at rescuing her. Oh no. They also burned the head of You-Know-Who's vicious pet to ashes. Nagini won't be chomping further innocents anytime soon."
Harry jerked his head up and went rigid. "What? Merlin! I really sent the bitch to hell?"
Severus was shaking all over. "Potter, what—how?"
Harry shuddered. "I … I don't know. I told you I had to fight hard to save Madame Pomfrey. I got frustrated and angry when I realised it was Nagini killing her, and I shouted in Parseltongue at her. Something like, 'go to hell, you twisted bitch.' And the next time I pushed the venom back, my magic had white fire in it. Maybe … I was fighting with fire and lightning, so maybe it followed the magic in her venom through Pomfrey and …." He made an explosion sound with his lips and smacked his hands together. "I can't think of anything else it could be."
Severus slumped back, white as a ghost and twice as cold, eyes wide and hands shaking. "Dear Merlin! You saved and ended a life through nothing more than a dream? What kind of power is this?"
Harry moved back and curled around himself, his stomach icy and his chest full of a fiery burning pain. "You think I'm dangerous. You're scared of me."
Severus tugged Harry into a fierce hug. "Afraid of you? No!" He gave a relieved, happy burst of a laugh. "I am not afraid, but Riddle had better be! Merlin, Harry. This is it! This odd power of yours, this is how we shall win the war."
Harry frowned. "I can't choose who it directs me to, and if I don't know who the person is I'm working on, how will I know to kill them rather than save them?" He brought his knees up and clutched them to his chest. "Besides that, I'm not sure I can kill anyone in cold blood. Not like Riddle."
"Like Riddle?" Severus lifted Harry's head with a hand under the younger man's chin. Again, Harry froze and stared wide-eyed at Severus.
"Never say that again, Potter." Severus rubbed a thumb over Harry's chin, and the young man forgot how to breathe. "You are nothing like that monster. Nothing."
"S-Severus," Harry whispered.
"No. Look at me. You are a hero. Do you know how many lives you saved by killing that demon of a snake?" Severus' eyes filled. "How many you avenged? I have wanted to avenge Charity all this time, and now you have done. I …." His voice broke, and he dropped his head into his hands. "T-thank you."
Harry held Severus' hand. "Professor Burbage?"
Severus flinched as if he'd been shot. "You saw."
Harry gave him a slow, sad nod.
"Merlin. It is one of my worst memories, and you … Potter, I am sorry. So sorry."
Harry tugged the man into his arms and laid his head upon Severus'. He didn't question the warm, happy feeling welling inside his chest. Severus needed his help. Harry could worry about his strange emotions later.
"I'm here. It's okay. The snake is gone now. She can't hurt anyone else."
Severus sighed and hugged Harry tight. "Thank Merlin."
"Yeah." As Severus scooted back, Harry straightened the man's long hair and wiped his tears with gentle hands. "You okay?"
"I am … relieved. There is a weight gone from me now."
Harry smiled and wondered where the blush heating his face had come from. "Good. I'm glad for that much."
Severus sat tall and wiped his eyes. "Harry, might we set the journal aside for one night? Might we get a drink from room service or visit the pub to celebrate this? I have so rarely had reason, and I—it feels as if I need to honour her tonight. Will you come with me? Put that aside long enough to rest your mind?"
Harry stared at the journal a moment, torn, and let out a sigh. "Yeah, I'll come. I did promise you I'd leave off it for a while every night. Seems like this is a good time to, yeah?"
"Yes. I think so too. Shall we glamour ourselves and go?"
"Let's do it." Harry stood and grinned as he offered Severus his hand. "Come, my good sir, and let us get drunk off our arses to celebrate Madame Pomfrey's life and the death of Professor Burbage's killer. Let us drink to heroes saved and foes vanquished."
Severus took the offered hand with a smirk. "Hmm. Glad to see you back to your old self. Also, you should know that you sound like a two-bit fantasy novel."
Harry laughed and squeezed Severus' hand. "Yeah, yeah, oh-my-hero and all that rot."
Severus' expression turned serious. "I am no hero, but you, Harry, are mine."
Harry's face flamed to his hairline. "Oh. Oh, Merlin. Uh …." He recovered and gave Severus a sly grin. "You're flirting again."
A faint blush coloured Severus' cheeks. "Poppycock."
"I thought we had already discussed how oddly apropos that word is?"
Severus snorted. "Merlin. Teenagers." He shook his head and chuckled. "Come, Harry. Let us, as you say, get drunk."
"See, now that just sounds like more flirting to me."
Severus rolled his eyes and motioned to the door. "I intend to honour fallen friends tonight, not chase my hormones, but you are free to do as you wish."
Harry smiled and held out his arm. "We'll honour them together, okay? Maybe give them a little send-off tonight after the other guests have gone to bed? Perhaps … we could talk to my Mum a bit, since we both loved her."
Severus blinked hard. He took a shaky breath and slipped his arm into Harry's. "That is acceptable, Potter."
"Good. Then let's go."
Harry cast the journal one last worried look. Was he a fool to leave it behind and enjoy the evening with a friend? Harry sighed and lowered his head. He had promised Severus. They both needed a moment to heal and celebrate, and Harry wouldn't let Severus down because of his mental issues. Survivor's guilt, Severus had called it while trying to pull Harry away from the journal all week. It fit, he supposed. And Severus was right in that he needed to let it go.
This war had never been his fault. Gods, it was hard to think it, but deep down, Harry knew it to be true. Severus had helped him see it. Severus had saved Harry from himself over the past few days and, for his patience and forbearance, for his gentle care, Harry owed the man this moment of companionable catharsis.
Merlin, he had never imagined Severus would want to share in joy and grief with him in the first place. And yet, Harry couldn't imagine sharing such a thing with anyone else. He and Severus had been branded together by war. He had no friends left who truly understood what that meant. No one, save Severus.
Severus tugged on Harry's arm. "Come, Harry. Stop staring at that journal, please. It will still be there in the morning."
Harry turned his back on the journal deliberately and gave Severus a bright smile. "I was only thinking that I'm glad you're with me tonight."
Severus returned his smile. "As am I, Potter," he murmured. "As am I."
