Flames of War
Chapter Ten: Requiem for the Past
Though I've seen friendships ruined when love is involved,
I just can't resist anymore.
I need you, more than you'll ever know
Just the thought of the taste of your lips gives me chills.
How I've longed for your gentle caress
In your arms, hold you close, one more kiss.—"Bossonova, Casanova"
Harry almost immediately melted into his embrace with Severus. Almost. But a part of him, somehow detached from his kiss with the older man, told him…
…stop…
And, reluctantly, Harry pulled away, willing himself to keep looking at Severus despite what had just happened.
It hadn't occurred to him until that moment, but over the small number of weeks he had spend with Severus, over the many days, he had never actually kissed Severus. There had been no intimacy about them at all, and still, it was the closest thing Harry had ever had to a relationship.
I am so dysfunctional.
But as he looked into the eyes of his childhood Professor, he flinched. He could see the regret, the thought in the Potions Master's mind of their actions being a mistake; he could see the doubt in the elder man's eyes.
"I…" Harry began, but the words on his tongue feel as he continued to look at the man standing before him. Everything since the moment they had both slept together seemed lain clearly in front of them. Before, there were no feelings, no boundaries between them to consider—they met each other each night to remind themselves that they were indeed alive. There had been no bonds, no associations to the past accompanied this.
But the moment Harry's lips touched Severus's, that facsimile of a dream shattered, leaving them broken pieces that revealed their true natures. What would Severus do, Harry wondered. Pick up his pieces and run?
Harry now knew that Severus's past still deeply disturbed him. Who had he loved? Who had betrayed him? Severus would never answer those questions directly. But, apparently something about the Professor's past compelled him to care to some extent for Harry.
And then, there were Harry's own feelings. They were confused, jumbled and difficult for even Harry himself to read, but he knew that Severus was a main part of them. He knew quite clearly that he had feelings for his old Professor. But he was reluctant to trust anyone, even Severus who had seasoned experience with betrayal.
"But the sad thing is that only friends can betray you; that's why it's called betrayal."
His own words floated back to him and he took an unconscious step back from Severus.
"We'll all let someone down somewhere in life."
Severus sighed, and silently looked at Harry—at all the shattered pieces of their feelings. The Boy Who Lived knew that was the object of the Potions Master's stare.
"Harry." Severus sounded resigned, liked he had given up. His head even fell to his shoulders. Severus sighed again. "It…it was Lucius Malfoy, Harry."
"What?" Harry blinked, confused.
It seemed as though that word broke the spell; whatever it was that had kept the Potions Master facing him loosened its group, and Harry could only watch as Severus traveled to a chair, wearily summoning a glass a of wine. Harry wanted to stop him, to tell him that sulking over a glass of wine was not the way to solve every problem.
"Lucius Malfoy was the man who betrayed me," Severus said slowly.
"Someone I thought loved me betrayed me," fragments of his recent memories were pouring through now, "For now that is all you need to know."
Had this been in another life, another dream, Harry would have laughed but instead he could only look at Severus, pity shining through his eyes even though he already knew that the older man did not want it.
"He was," Severus continued hesitantly, "my Slytherin equivalent of Ron, though he certainly did not turn out as promising as your comrade."
The reference to his fellow Gryffindor surprised Harry; Severus and Ron had never agreed on anything.
Apparently, that surprise showed up on his face, because then Severus added, "while Ron was an accomplished dunderhead, when it came to defending those he loved, he managed to somehow pull himself in order. Despite his utter incompetence at most tasks he attempted to complete in the past, I am sure that he has changed beyond recognition. I know that you and Granger will be surprised. You do not become a Death Eater without sustaining lasting scars."
Without waiting—or allowing—Harry's reply, the Head of Slytherin continued.
"In any case, Lucius Malfoy was the only true friend I had. Coming from a family whose complete aim was to overtake the Malfoys in wealth and stature—which we have already done—Lucius was not my ideal image of a friend. In the beginning, I would have rather remain to myself, a trait that I continue to possess until recently." Severus looked pointedly at Harry, who shrugged.
You wanted this as much as I did, Harry thought to himself. He did not remark out loud, though, for fear of ruining Severu's story-telling mood.
"I…befriended him, as I am sure you expected," the Potions Master embellished, "And secretly, I found that we both detested our arrogant, competitive parents. Despite their rivalry, both groups of parents, you see, pretended to be nice to each other instead of simply hiding behind their family feud. We were caught in the middle, and we resented it.
"That was when Voldemort began to rise. Besides my time with Lucius, my parents kept me locked in my house, which I never minded, since I had never had another place to go…"
Harry remembered his long, eleven year stay at Privet Drive in his cupboard. How was it that he and Severus Snape were alike? Of course, there were differences, too. Severus grew to even expect Lucius's company as they continued in their relationship, Harry was sure; however, he had never liked being alone, but grew to share in the knowledge that Voldemort would kill all those close to him, and so he distanced himself from his friends during the war.
"However," Severus pushed on, his voice taking dismal tones, "the summer of my seventh year was when he told me that his parents were pushing his arranged marriage. So he suggested running away to Voldemort. I had not heard too much about him, and because I did not have that information, I made one of the gravest mistakes of my life. And I will never be forgiven for it. I will never forgive myself for making those choices," Severus looked into the distance, unconsciously swirling the glass in his hands. He sighed deeply.
"It wasn't until years later that he betrayed me. Despite all the bloodshed, all of the doubts I had been housing about my decision to join His Superior Darkness…I could be at peace knowing that Lucius was at my side. I knew that we would be caught eventually, and that we would die.
But I took solace in the knowledge that we would die together. That I would die with the man I loved."
That had been the first time, Harry realized later, that he had ever heard that word escape Severus's lips. Until that very moment, he had never really processed that Severus could have such feelings. Severus was…a loner, and Harry had assumed that he had always been that way.
As he looked at Severus, the older man refused to meet his eyes, staring at the wine glass in his grip instead.
And that grip tightened. "that was before he betrayed me. That was before I had realized that Lucius did not truly love me, and like all of the Malfoy who preceded him, his true goal was wealth and power. I was simply an idle hobby," Severus gritted his teeth as he spoke, and Harry swallowed hard, "that amused him on his way to serving Voldemort." Severus was silent after that, and Harry knew that the man wouldn't go on any more. The silence stretched, neither man attempting to say a thing.
Harry could not imagine being betrayed in the same way as Severus—while Ron becoming a Death Eater had hurt him deeply, it seemed nothing compared to the anguish that the Potions Master seemed to be holding back at the moment.
Harry honestly had no idea what to think. Severus did not have to tell him about his past in the first place.
Slowly, Harry said, as though to help "But Lucius…he will be caught, and he will die. Then you can move on. You'll have your vengeance. You won't have to wait much longer." Harry's own anger at Lucius began to build, and he clenched his own fist.
Severus's voice was no longer full of emotion as he said in reply, "No. Revenge will not remedy my thoughts. Revenge will not satisfy me. It is not what I want. It will do me no good."
"How can revenge do you no good, Severus? He deserves to die. If you had the chance to kill him, would you hesitate?"
"No," Severus answered sharply, "but not because he betrayed me; I would kill him for the suffering he's caused, for the citizens, wizard and muggle that he had killed. I would not be so foolhardy and selfish as to kill him for my own personal reasons. Had I not accepted his friendship in the first place…"
"Severus! He destroyed your life. No one trusts you because of you ex-Death Eater status! You've been mistreated for most of your life because of him!"
"All of that was a lack of good judgment on my part."
"Even if it is the last thing I do," Harry began, "Severus, I will—"
Severus held up his free hand, bringing silence to the room for the briefest of moments. "Do not make any promises that you will find difficult to keep. You already have squandered your childhood ensuring that such things happen; do not waste such a troublesome ability on one such as myself."
"What if I want to? What if I want to waste it on you? I think you—"
"Keep your gifts to yourself, Mister Potter," Severus said, his voice suddenly cold.
Why? Harry asked himself. Why does Severus always revert back? We take one step forward only to take three back!
Fuck him.
"I promise you," Harry began slowly, "that—"
The look on Severus's face was enough to stop him in his tracks. Harry took a deep breath. "Do you think this is the right thing to do? To punish yourself by locking your unresolved feelings away?"
"They are not unresolved," Severus replied sharply. "Just because I cannot be forgiven for journeying on an unjustified killing spree does not give way to the logic that my feelings are unresolved."
Harry felt as though he should have been angry at that comment; but he was not. "I…I wasn't myself, Severus. That was not my fault. I don't even remember…what I did."
At this, Severus seemed to forget the results of his own tragic tale, his expression relaxing a little. "You have no memory of the entire night?"
"…I remember you stunning Bellatrix, and my conversation with Ron, but right after I killed Voldemort and Blaise hit Ron…I just froze. And I blacked out. The next thing I remember I was…at Hogwarts…"
Severus sighed, shaking his head. "This is a problem that must be stopped," he muttered, though Harry could hear him. Looking the Gryffindor in the eye, he said, more loudly, "Harry. This War must end, once and for all."
The conviction with which he said those words jarred Harry severely. Of course, the man mean the aftermath of the War, the pain and the strife that so many witches and wizards still suffered. The pain that the Order still felt. The suffering that he still felt.
With a sullen tone, Harry answered, "I agree."
"And," Severus continued thoughtfully, "What of Hogwarts? Shall we continue to let our differences shape the villains of the next century?"
"Severus?" Harry questioned.
"…my personal thoughts," the Potions Master offered.
He did not embellish upon his thoughts.
Harry took his tale as a sign that it was time to go. Severus, after recounting his tale, look tired and old in the same way that Dumbledore seemed when he was particularly stressed.
Standing to indicate his departure, Harry headed towards the door, and Severus did not attempt to stop him. However, before the door opened with a heavy groan, the Potions Master muttered a quiet, "Harry."
It was so soft, the word that came from the older man's lips, and Harry almost missed it. "…yes?"
"Good night, Harry."
"Good night, Severus."
That night, Harry's sleep was dreamless.
Sleeping quietly, your scar
Seems to be healed by the words of prayer.
The words that were carved in a stone monument over and over again
Became a star
That vanishes into the rising sun.—"Epitaph"