CHAPTER 28
When did I realise the depth of my feelings for you, Severus? When did I understand that I was finding joy in my marriage with you – the kind of joy I experienced in my friendship with Ron and Hermione, or my ties with Ron's family, or that uplifting pleasure I discovered when flying on my broom, the wind rushing through my hair, the world unfolding below me and disclosing the quiet beauty of nature? You pushed me hard during our Telepathy sessions, and pushed me even harder when you finally resumed my failed fifth-year Occlumency lessons.
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Harry rubbed his forehead. He had managed to push Severus out of his mind – which was just as well, because Severus had ventured dangerously close to the consummation of their marriage. Harry knew that this act had inflicted a deep wound upon Severus's soul. Only recently, Severus had stumbled across that fateful scene in Harry's mind during their lessons. He had turned deathly pale, clenched his hands and given up his attack before Harry could draw up his Occlumentic shields. Thanks to years of spying and acting experience, he had managed to snap back his control in a matter of seconds and proceed with the next attack. However, he had to admit that he was experiencing difficulties with Occluding his mind against Harry; they now combined Legilimency with Occlumency, and it was a novelty for Severus to find his Occlumentic barriers swaying around him – he, who had Occluded Voldemort so successfully time after time, maintaining the semblance of a devoted Death Eater even under the gruelling effects of the Cruciatus curse! And yet, each time he looked into those fiery green eyes which spoke more to him than words did, his heartbeat would feel like a Hippogriff running riot in Hagrid's pen.
"You did quite satisfactorily for today," Severus said, succumbing to his habitual reluctance to openly praise anyone, "we can descend to our rooms now, and you should be in time for your Transfigurations class with my colleague."
After a particularly complicated Transfigurations session, Harry, wearing his favourite blue jeans and one of Molly Weasley's jumpers, wandered around Severus's enormous library, feeling perfectly at ease near his husband's highly valued possessions. It was a chilly December day, and the library was homely with its glowing lights, smell of old paper and quiet printed occupants tucked away on their shelves. Severus, in his silent manner, had made it clear that his rooms were Harry's rooms as well, except perhaps for the Potions room, which was more than merely a workplace or a sanctum; it was a part of his mind's landscape, an area where his brilliant logic and creativity worked together in perfect harmony.
He no longer abruptly quit the library when Harry entered the room. On the contrary: Harry could have sworn that Severus liked his company, regardless of whether he was silent or communicating with him. It gave him a warm glowing feeling; and it was starting to become a custom for Severus to push a chair towards Harry with a non-verbal spell, thus encouraging Harry to share the same table with him and simultaneously sparing himself the embarrassment of extending a verbal invitation.
Harry longed to invite his friends over as often as he could; but, as Severus warned him, this would seem highly suspicious, especially to the Slytherins whose common room was in the dungeons. As it is, people were wondering about Harry's exact whereabouts away from Gryffindor Tower, and there had been several attempts to follow him. Harry now wore his Invisibility Cloak on his way to and from their rooms, much to Severus's approval.
Awed, Harry moved from shelf to shelf. Severus – trust the man's contradictory nature! – seemed to appreciate Muggle literature. Harry stopped in front of a shelf containing literature about the Second World War. Slowly, he stretched out his hand and carefully extracted a book. He opened it slowly and sat down on the wooden floor, reading. The Dursleys had never talked about Muggle history; but it had been discussed at Muggle school, and he had wanted to know more, had asked Aunt Pentunia, who had stared down her nose at him and then ignored him, had wondered why the most human thing about human beings so often seemed to be their inhumanity. Here then, was material on one of the most shameful events of human history, and the parallels to Voldemort's politics were sickeningly familiar. This is the kind of madman I have to defeat, he thought. His cheeks were wet as he grieved for those who had suffered such monstrous injustices. There would always be people who were evil beyond description; and when one fell, another would rise in his place. The book slid out of his hands.
He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.
"I know what you are thinking," Severus's voice said. Harry looked up; and Severus saw that although the youth was an adult man according to Wizarding law and his unique circumstances, he was only seventeen; his childhood had been locked away in the Dursleys' closet, and his youth and early adulthood were oriented towards one goal: defeating Voldemort and dying in the attempt. No! Not if I have something to say about it, a voice raged in Severus's mind. Harry was looking at him with those passionate green eyes.
"Tyrants have always drawn inspiration from each other," he said. His face hardened, and his voice became harsh. "A bitter lesson I learnt when it was almost too late."
He studied Harry's face closely. "And yet, hope can be found in the unlikeliest of places and people. Hope, and trust." His tone was somewhat abrupt. Severus had always felt uncomfortable talking about personal matters or feelings; but Harry, like Albus Dumbledore, possessed that knack of drawing forth secrets by simply listening quietly with a too-wise look in his eyes. Like Lily, Severus thought, and his heart hurt.
/I cannot stand this, Severus. Why does this happen?/ Harry was digging his teeth into his bottom lip.
Severus bowed his head and sighed – a gesture which would have been unthinkable a few months ago; and for the second time, he admitted to his husband: "I don't know, Harry."
They looked at each other for a long moment, and it seemed to them that they had only each other; Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron – friends and Order members were suddenly far away, and Voldemort was closing in upon them, grasping for power and the world. Harry echoed Severus's sigh, stepped up to him and put his arms around the tall figure. Severus was numbed with surprise for a few milliseconds; then he responded to the embrace, sensing Harry's desperation and feeling it himself; and it was just the two of them, and they had the drowning feeling of standing in the middle of wars past and future. You saved my life, Harry Potter, Severus reflected fiercely, trying to steady himself and regain his composure, and now I have to do something with this life. You are part of my life, and I am part of yours. This is our life. And even as the thought flashed through his mind, something seemed to give way in the magical barrier shielding his musings, granting Harry access, allowing him to capture said thought. Harry smiled, and Severus realised that their Legilimency sessions and Harry's enormous progress with Telepathy had linked their minds together in an inextricable fashion – just like with himself and Dumbledore; but there was more to their bond than a purely magical connection, of course. No, Severus tried to tell himself sharply, this is a marriage of convenience. Nothing more, and nothing less. His attempt failed. How could it succeed when Harry was so warm against his body, holding him and being held, his hair brushing Severus's gaunt cheek? And alas, why was this accursed desire creeping up on him again, why did he long to remove those blue jeans and that thick jumper and seduce him away to bed?
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