Chapter Twenty-Four: Whatever Tomorrow Might Bring, at Least Tonight You're Mine

Rain splatters on the window. When freezing wind whips up, it beats on the glass heavy and loud. It's nearly winter and the chilly air tries to force itself into the room, but neither of them feels it.

The lamp outside Twelve Grimmauld Place flickers and Harry wouldn't be entirely surprised if it was due to the crackling magic that fills the place.

It is strange how much he can feel it now, as if his senses were heightened in this regard as well. Every slow, tender kiss Snape places on his neck, steals from his lips, makes his magic pulse. Waves and waves of invisible force rolls off him, washes over the other man, the room, the whole house even.

Mellow magic blankets them, warms their bodies, gets their pulse to quicken.

Hands roam his naked skin and Harry barely notices when one slips beneath his boxers, curls over his cheek, squeezes gently, rubs, massages. It's gone the next moment, fleeting, as if it were nothing but a dream suddenly. However, his shorts are slowly eased off him, hesitant fingers dragging the waistband over the curve of his bottom.

He shivers, grunts into the kiss and hands on his thighs push the fabric even lower until it falls down on its own.

Harry steps out of them, fully naked now and they move a foot closer to the bed.

Palms plastered to naked chest, mouth on thin lips, they linger, standing still. Neither of them can form words, Harry's not sure he even knows how to speak at the moment. His motions still as Snape lets him go and his hands wander to his own slacks.

Harry drops his forehead on Snape's shoulder and looks down, eyes wide open, mouth agape as he watches Snape undo the buttons. He looks up, searching gaze meeting glimmering darkness and he reaches out to assist, to pull down the zipper, to take hold of the black fabric and push it down.

The notion that he has never seen Snape fully naked sits with heavy pressure in his chest. The flickering light of the lamp outside is not enough to admire the body in front of him. He wants to ignite the gas lamps in the room, light some candles, make the sun rise up straight in the window just so he can see better, observe every inch of white skin, every birthmark, blemish and scar.

The old wound, the one that looks like a forked snake tongue licks across the man's navel, and Harry longs to trace it with his mouth, scratch it with the tip of his canine. Not yet, he tells himself, but still can't help it, his hand goes there unauthorized. He drags his thumb down over it. The white scar over the man's pale skin seems to glow, even if in the darkness, in the flickering light of the lamppost not much shows.

Snape gasps. The light sound barely louder than the rain, yet Harry looks up at him as his hand drifts further down. He doesn't touch Snape's erection, no matter how much he wants to. Instead, he draws his hand down to thin thigh, tentative fingertips dancing on soft skin.

A shuddering inhale tells him that the trip was worth it, that no matter how gentle and innocent the touch, Snape still revels in it.

On the way back, he nearly dodges the path of innocence just to hear a sharper moan, see a twitch of excitement, but his hand is caught. Long fingers curl around it and draw it up to Snape's lips. The man smirks as he kisses a few of Harry's fingertips, then he steps towards the bed, pulling Harry with himself, too.

Snape lies down and Harry settles over him. They fall back into kissing nearly right away. Lazy caresses of soft lips and sluggish strokes of fingertips makes the moment feel like a sweet dream, hazy and warm.

Eventually, every soft kiss turns heated and Harry pulls away. He sits up between Snape's legs, his eyes roaming the man beneath him freely.

The lamp outside flickers a few more times, then goes out completely with a flash. Harry doesn't mind, his vision adjusts quickly and he still sees almost clearly; the pale alabaster skin seems to glow in the dimness. The black hair fanned out under Snape's head is the complete opposite though; it drinks up all the light.

His hands help the exploration, as well. He drags fingertips over protruding collarbones, draws their shape, follows the wide-open v they form. Snape shudders under his touch, but Harry knows he's still watched. Widened black eyes stare at him, filled with lust, nearly burning in their intensity.

His palm flattens on the man's abdomen, as he looks back at Snape's face.

"You've given me so much, Severus..." he says, voice rough. "How do I make you feel good?"

A blush sits high on Snape's cheeks. His eyes flash, but then he looks away as if ashamed. "Touch me," he still says. "Touch me wherever you like."

"Here?" Harry asks. "Can I touch you here?"

A middle finger, just one, circles around a pink nipple, makes invisible infinity signs and eights, until the loops are too small. He brushes the sensitive spot once, twice, but leaves when he hears Snape's hiss.

"Anywhere," Snape grunts. "Everywhere." He lifts his hands above his head, grasps the pillow.

Stretched out, his body looks even leaner. The flesh under his tight skin is sinew, hips narrow, shoulders not much wider, arms strong but long and thin. There's power trapped in this body, terrible and vicious, yet now laid out naked on a bed, Snape seems almost fragile, as if a gentle touch could bruise his skin, a teasing bite could open him up, as if kisses could cut him, words tear into him.

"God, you look insanely good like this," Harry confesses as he drags his fingers down on Snape's chest. He quickly reaches the head of the long erection, and his palm runs up on it. He strokes it all the way down as he asks, "Can I touch you here?"

"Harry…" Snape moans, tosses his head back. "You can do whatever you like with me."

The thought is heady. "Whatever, huh?"

He keeps stroking Snape. He doesn't grip him, his touch remains languid, teasing, light. They are just caresses, nothing more, fingertips feeling up the hardness, its velvety texture, the soft head.

Snape keens, squishes the pillow even more. His hips rise, pressing more firmly against Harry's hand seeking more friction, but Harry always pulls back just enough that their motions continue to be gentle.

"So how is this going to work?" he asks Snape as he circles two fingers around the tip. The light smile on his lips suggests he's only joking, but in fact he's still unsure.

Snape seems too preoccupied to notice his hesitance though. "It's rather simple, really. Put your cock in my – "

Laughing, Harry slaps Snape's thigh. "That part I know." He rolls his eyes. "I'm talking before that."

"I can take care of that."

Need twists Harry's insides. That's a sight he's already impatient to see. "Oh? Alright then…"

Snape smirks, bites his lower lip for a moment as if he knew exactly how excited that prospect just made Harry. He sits up, then gets on his knees in front of Harry.

He grasps Harry's chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It takes Harry a while to realize what's happening. He blames it on the kisses, on teeth sliding on his neck, on lips softly caressing his own.

He doesn't comprehend what the breathless little moans mean at first, where Snape's low grunts come from. He puts them down to the effect of the small rolls Snape's hips make as he languidly presses forwards then pulls back just as slowly.

It takes him a nearly stuttered, "Fuck…" and a needy whimper to catch on.

He follows Snape's hand to his backside, then draws back as he gasps, "Holy shit, Severus… are you…?"

The reply comes smugly against Harry's lips. "A finger in, yes."

"Good god…" Harry breathes out slowly, then inconspicuously, that fools absolutely no one, he starts nipping at Snape's jaw, down the line of his neck until he can look over his shoulder to see where his hand is between his cheeks, moving slowly.

"Are you watching me?" Snape asks voice rough against Harry's ear.

"Yeah…"

"Good." He grunts then, "You want to see more?"

For a second Harry thinks he's going to come just from this. Cock trapped between their bodies, Snape's low voice in his ear, the sight he's witnessing. He's not sure he can take more. Still, his answer is a weakly moaned, "Yes."

Snape pulls away and turns around. When he gets on all fours Harry takes a moment to drink him all in. Long thighs wide apart, his hardness, the neat curve of his bottom, the low arch of his back, the black waterfall of ink splashed over his shoulders, falling down next to his face. His wicked smirk, his black eyes that glimmer in the dark.

He reaches back again and Harry envies his confidence with which the finger makes a small circle then just slides in again.

Snape lets out a little moan, Harry a much keener one.

"Fuck, Severus…" His hands are on the man right away, sliding up on the back of those thighs, over his cheeks, pulling them slightly more apart. It nearly takes Harry's mind as he watches that pointing finger disappear in a slicked-up hole, in and out.

He stares, eyes stuck, all but mesmerized. His cheeks are burning, his heart hammers in his chest. He nearly loses it when a second digit joins the first, scissoring Snape more open for him. Words fail him, nothing but low moans are able to force themselves out of his throat.

He kisses Snape's hip and feels the body beneath him tremble slightly. Snape drops his head and his motions stutter for a moment.

Harry drags his mouth across the man's waist, licks over the protruding bones of his spine.

He can feel Snape shiver, the bumps rising under his tongue, making the smooth skin feel more textured suddenly.

"Harry…" Snape breathes, and there's something in his voice that sets Harry's body on fire.

Harry's motions are slow but not hesitant. He cups the hard member between Snape's legs, gives it a few strokes. Legs shake, nearly buckle when his fingers curl around tight balls. Black hair whips around when he sinks teeth into soft cheeks.

Obsidian eyes stare at him widened, as he pulls away Snape's hand.

With a rough, low voice, Snape groans, "Harry, what are you doing?" He sounds nearly desperate.

Harry's actions speak for themselves. He licks across the puckered skin, moans at the delicious shudder that shakes Snape's body.

"Lord…" Snape moans, back snapping into an arch.

Harry pulls away. "Nice demonstration, but I think I can take it from here…" he smirks, giving another long lick to the cleft.

Snape's hand fist in the sheets, then he pulls away. For half a second Harry thinks he did something wrong, but then voice breaking, Snape demands, "Let me turn around. I want to watch you do this."

Now, Harry feels the heat in his cheeks even more, but he sits back on his heels and waits for Snape to settle again.

Once it happens, he kisses his way back down, following the scattered breadcrumbs of birthmarks and scars. Thighs wide open await him and he draws those long legs over his shoulder.

Despite his eagerness to watch, Snape is barely able to keep his gaze on Harry. Every lick makes his eyes flutter closed as if the touch would be already too much for him. Harry doubts that is the case, but when he pushes his tongue inside and Snape throws back his head, he reconsiders.

He recalls how he had felt there against the bookcase, legs trembling and body tense with lust and need, and he comes to the conclusion that perhaps Snape is going through the exact ecstatic sensation, feels the same electricity at the base of his spine.

Hands above his head, fisted in pillow and strands of hair at the same time, Snape breathes in shakily, but it doesn't seem to calm him. The body in front of Harry is stretched out, skin tight on muscles and bones, sheen of sweat covering it in a thin layer. The straining hair on Snape's arms and legs aren't because of the cold though.

Harry pulls away, licks over balls and the whole length of Snape's erection. The man jerks, hips pulling away just to thrust back the next moment, silently begging for more.

A finger at Snape's entrance makes slow circles as Harry waits for Snape to look at him again. "Do I just…?" He asks and gives a little pressure.

Snape keens, his loud moan suppresses the wild wind outside.

"Give me two… three even…" he urges, voice cracking with need. "I need more…"

Harry doesn't; he just pushes in one for now, avidly aware of the disappointed whine that slips from Snape.

"Harry…" Snape grunts, hips rising, rolling. "Harry, please…"

"God Severus…" Harry moans.

Breathing heavily, Snape hides his face in the crook of his arm. The tendons on his neck are tight enough to snap and he bites into his own bicep to silence his desperate grunts. His eyes flash in the darkness though, begging, like his body.

"I could come from just watching you like this." Harry notes as he looks down at his own body. His cock strains, wet with precome, wanting to be touched, but Harry resists the urge for now. Instead, he presses another finger in Snape, no warning nothing, just in there the next moment.

The pillow nearly tears from the force of fisted hands pulling on it. Snape arches from the bed and for a second Harry thinks he's coming, but not yet. Snape's cock twitches, lifts away from his body and Harry leans down to give it a teasing lick.

Snape curses, loud and vivid. "God… fucking hell, Harry…"

Harry feels breathless and on the edge about as much as Snape even though no one is touching him. Yet every motion every thrust into that heat feels as if he were stretched too, as if his body was on fire as well. He knows exactly when Snape comes close enough to the edge because his own body buzzes too, wild, filled with electricity under his skin.

"Oh my god…" Snape moans. "Fuck, Harry… there… fuck please…"

Harry keeps at it, hitting the same spot with the tips of his fingers over and over, eyes drinking in the gorgeous sight in front of him. Hands grasping frantically at fabric, mouth open, breath hitching, Snape twists with need for only a moment longer, then he cries out, body coiling, arching up.

Come drips across his taunt belly and Harry leans there and laps it up as if it were fresh water on a heated day.

He slows his thrust, but Snape lifts his head, eyes dazed but still commanding. "Keep going," he tells Harry. "Give me another one."

This time Harry doesn't hesitate. He can't hold on for much longer anyway. A third finger slips in easily and he watches eagerly for Snape's reaction.

There's no pain. The man gasps again, muscles jerking as his oversensitive body adjusts. His hips roll with Harry's motions, up and down in waves, but otherwise he lies there nearly tranquil. His expression is softened, mellow, arms pliant as if made out of rubber.

Harry holds on for what feels like a millennium, when in fact it's probably only minutes, then quietly, voice frail, he whispers, "Good god, Severus, I want to… I want it so bad…"

Black eyes open lazily. The smirk that plays on Snape's lips is self-satisfied and pleased.

"What?" He asks in a croaky, low tone. "What do you want?"

Harry's cheeks burn as he turns his face towards Snape's skin. He says the words with lips pressed against a slightly shaking thigh. "God, I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me." It feels so indecent out loud, more so than the sight in front of him.

Legs fall away from his back. Snape's smug smile widens, becomes predatory. "Get on your back," he growls and Harry's mouth opens in question. "You've done enough."

With a frown, Harry complies, pulls away just to lie down next to the man.

When Snape pushes up himself and throws a leg over Harry's waist, when he gets on top of him, and settles down, hips rolling against Harry's cock, he finally understands. "You're kidding me," he gasps, when Snape slips a bit further up and reaches behind himself. "Holy shit, you gotta be fucking kidding me…"

Harry feels he needs to shut his eyes for a moment and not watch or else he will come right away.

This time, he feels the magic, probably because it is said over his own member and the next moment, Snape's hand slides up and down on his hardness oiled up and sleek.

His hand flail around for a moment, but then Snape says, "Take my hips. Guide me. You can use me to seek your own pleasure."

He says that but he's still hard. He says that, but when Harry slips inside even just merely an inch, his eyes roll back and close as a winded moan breaks up from his throat. Harry barely feels what's happening to his own body, as if the sensations were too much, already too intensive and his brain gave up functioning.

It surely doesn't help that at the same time, he sees Snape over him clearly, thighs on both sides of Harry's hips, leaning back with a hand on Harry's legs, feels those fingers dig into his flesh nearly hard enough to carve holes. He sees Snape's chest expand with every deep inhale as he eases himself further down, sees his lips fall open, hears his low grunts that drive Harry simply to the edge of madness.

There's no sensation still. His body is numb, working on etching this sight to memory so that even after death has claimed him, after he's reborn or whatever shall await him, this, this stays with him till the end of the universe.

Then time clicks back into place, and Harry's hit with everything at once, hard like a train crushing into him. Every nerve ending in his body flares and for a second, he thinks he can't bear it, and yet he wants this to never end. It takes his breath away, along with his mind and he grasps Snape's waist and bucks up uncontrolled.

"Oh god!" He cries, then snaps his mouth shut. Still, the weak whimpers in his throat don't die away; they find their way out even through tightly pressed lips.

Snape leans back onto Harry's leg with his other hand, too. He doesn't move yet; let's Harry adjust to the overwhelming sensations. His burning gaze sweeps Harry's body up and down, and his heaving chest hitches when their eyes meet.

"Do you like it?"

Harry swallows hard. "You kidding?"

"Mm, good, isn't it?" Snape gives a little experimental roll of his hips.

"Fuck, Severus, I'm dying here a little bit, you know…"

"Yes, I can see that." There's humour in the black eyes as he raises his body for another teasing motion.

Harry keens under him.

"You look rather captivating like this – underneath me." Snape notes.

There's another roll and this time, braver now, Harry allows his hands to move, too. They slide up on slim waist to bony chest. Snape presses against his palm, welcomes his touch, welcomes every inch of it.

"I haven't done this in ages, but I might be convinced to repeat this experience." He adds, moving now to a steady albeit slow rhythm.

Harry dies a little with every stroke, every thrust. He doesn't dare move, afraid that he might lose it right away. Every bit of his focus is tethered to the notion to not let go yet.

"What does it feel like?" he asks, his gaze shifting on the naked body in his lap.

Snape smirks, looks down on himself, cock straining, hitting his stomach with almost every motion. "Agony," he grunts lustfully. "It's sheer agony."

Harry watches Snape as his hands drift down on the man's stomach, edging near to his cock. He takes him in hand and Snape lets out a needy sigh. He drops his head back, his eyes closing momentarily.

Harry's hand shifts up and down on him, thumb wiping away the wetness at the top.

He smiles, licks his lips. "No but really, what's it like?"

"Don't expect me to be able to describe it, Harry," Snape grunts and Harry thinks that will be it, and he doesn't even want to force the subject, but then Snape opens his mouth again. The words come out hesitant, as if he would be tasting them before allowing them to slip from his lips. "I'm full. Full of sensations, full of… you. I can feel you stretching me. It doesn't hurt, the opposite in fact. When you brush against my prostate…" his voice fades, and he looks away almost shyly. "Let's just say it's intense."

"No kidding," Harry chuckles. "Being on this end isn't much different either."

"Is that so?" Snape asks with a smirk. "What does it feel like to fuck someone, Mr Potter? Everything you hoped it would be?"

"And then some." Harry laughs. "I'm thinking of Mrs Figg in a bikini just to hold on for like five more minutes."

Snape snorts then cocks an eyebrow. "What? Surely not."

"Surely yes. You feel insanely good."

"That won't do. I can't allow you to think of anyone else when you're fucking me. No matter the reason…"

Snape lets go of Harry's thighs then, and sits up straighter. Gradually he speeds up, sliding up and down on Harry's member with a torturous tempo. He touches himself in the meanwhile, hands roaming his own body, caressing his chest, twisting his nipple. Harry only tightens his fingers around the thick manhood to give Snape even more pleasure, as he watches the man ride him.

The words stumble out of him breathless and rough. "I'm not really the one doing the fucking right now," he gasps as with every upwards motion Snape seem to tear a piece out of his soul, too.

"Easy to amend," Snape growls, then takes Harry's hands and places them back on his hips. "Pull me down when you thrust up. Keep me in place when you sink back down."

"Oh god, Severus… I won't be able to hold on long…" Harry's fingers dig into soft flesh.

"I don't want you to hold on. I want you to take me however you'd like to…" He grunts, then adds, "Go on then, Potter. You know what to do so… Fuck me…"

And Harry does. He tucks up his legs and lifts his waist, sliding back into wet heat. He's slow at first, almost careful. He knows he doesn't have to be, but he wants to enjoy every inch he gets deeper in there. There's something wild in making Snape's body do what he wants, stay in place, drag up or down. There's a sweet heat to being in control to be allowed to dictate the pace of someone else's pleasure along with his own.

His shoves become hard from one second to the other and Snape jolts over him, eyes wide, breath caught at the base of his throat.

He can't stay motionless for long though, and soon he moves with Harry, impatient and fast. He rolls his hips, seeks his own pleasure and seems to find it quickly enough because the next second his whole body shudders and he falls forward with a small cry.

Sweat covers Snape's lean body and as he jerks his head to get all his hair to one side, a couple strands remain stuck there, across his wet forehead. He seems nearly savage as he looks up like this, eyes burning, teeth thinking into his lower lip.

"Fuck Harry," he moans, but he doesn't stop. Hands on Harry's chest he grinds down over and over again. Nails scrape into Harry's skin but he barely feels it.

Harry drags his palm down a sweaty back and grasps into Snape's buttocks as he plunges into him with harsh moves.

He rises from the bed just enough to steal a kiss before he grunts, "God, Severus, I can't wait to feel you inside me. If it's only a fraction as good as how you make this seem, it will be the end of me."

Snape's expression is nearly fierce as he grunts in a gravelly voice, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you survive…" His eyes shut then and a weak sound erupts from him. "…So I can fuck you over and over again," he finishes breathlessly.

"Shit, are you close?" Harry asks as he takes Snape's erection in his hand. He can nearly feel it pulse against his palm.

Snape doesn't say anything which is answer enough. Harry watches him as he bends his head down and focuses on his own body. His hair falls down around his face, a black river keeping Harry from seeing every flicker of emotion, but he soon realizes he doesn't even need to see it.

Snape's body is talkative enough. His fingers tense and dig into Harry's chest every time he thrusts into him. He tightens around Harry's cock, clamps down as if trying to stop him before he gets overwhelmed. His shoulders shake and his arms tremble in the effort to keep himself propped up

However, a few seconds later with one more whimpered, "Oh fuck! Fuck Harry!" those strong arms give up and Snape crashes down on Harry, his body jerking wildly. His second orgasm seems almost violent and it drags Harry with him too nearly instantly.

He holds Snape down firmly as he comes inside him, hips jerking as he's buried deep in heat. The sharp pleasure that rips at his veins feels like it would never cease, an endless, torturous wave of desire, agonizing in its wild sweetness.

He cries out, but his voice is stuck to his vocal cords. His own body quivers too, his bones rattle beneath his flesh, wanting to break and then one day, when this elation subsides, reform again.

Gasping for air, they lie there for what feels like hours. Hair tickles his neck, he's sweaty and spent and there's sticky come drying on his stomach, but he doesn't care. When Snape makes an attempt to roll off him, Harry keeps him there for a few more minutes with a firm, "Not yet."

A hand is drawing lazy circles onto his shoulder and for a moment Harry believes this to be their future – believes that they have a future at all.

"I need a shower," Snape says as he tries to pull away, but Harry still isn't willing to let him go, now for an entirely different reason. "Potter," he whispers sweetly as he edges closer to Harry's ears. "Your come is dripping out of me…"

Harry grunts at the indecent sentence yet he can't help himself as he reaches to Snape's behind and seeks out his hole. A mere touch is enough to draw a moan from Snape and when he presses down two fingers, he's surprised to feel the man press back against them.

He teases Snape for a minute or two, lazy touches and soft prods pull the most delightful sounds from the man. His oversensitive body reacts with small shudders, loosened ring of muscles tensing even more around Harry.

Eventually, Snape sits up and draws his fingers through his hair. "Mr Potter, you make me wish I was fifteen years younger," he notes with a smirk as he drags his fingertips over his drying come.

"Why?" Harry asks, then adds with a smug grin, "You weren't half bad for your age."

Snape doesn't rise for the taunt, but without even missing a beat, grunts, "Because if I were, I could lie here for five more minutes, then fuck you through this bed."

Harry leans up on his hand and cups Snape's chin with the other as he pulls him down for a slow kiss. "If not in five minutes, then when, Professor?" He asks cockily against thin lips.

Snape grunts, licks into his mouth then pulls back. There's a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"After all the strenuous activities of today, you deserve a hearty breakfast. We'll discuss it after."

"After?" Harry whines. "Why not before?"

"So eager all of a sudden."

"Your demonstration was very convincing, Severus."

"There's no rush, Harry," Snape says as he gets off the bed. He holds out a hand for Harry and pulls him up as well.

Harry presses against him and kisses Snape again. "Well, there is a little…" he whispers and giddy excitement thrums across his body as he looks at Snape then says coyly, "I want you inside me."

He steps aside and walks towards the bathroom, but he still hears, Snape's grunted words: "Fuck. Give me a few hours."

They both shower and a quick cleaning charm takes care of the bed. Harry is not asked if he wants to spend the night in Snape's bedroom, but it doesn't even occur to him to sleep anywhere else either.

He arrives back here wearing a fresh set of shirt and boxers. He gets in bed and settles in the middle. Snape comes back a few minutes later, bringing the fresh scent of forest and moss with him then climbs into bed, too.

He is not surprised to find Harry here and he doesn't ask questions either. There's no reason for it after all. He curls up against Harry's back as if they have spent the last decade like this not just last night.

Harry feels a smile in the words as Snape asks quietly, "Close enough?"

Harry lets out a soft chuckle and draws Snape's hand up to his lips just to give it a kiss. "Yeah," he answers, happily. "Close enough."

Snape takes Harry's chin and turns his head gently around so he can ask for one more kiss.

"Goodnight, Severus." Harry says as he turns back.

He's nearly asleep when he hears the answering whisper: "Goodnight, Harry."

Instead of blinding sunshine, or even just the weak rays of the morning light fighting their way through the thick clouds, they wake to a strange blue glimmer.

This time the phoenix Patronus doesn't wait to be noticed, Dumbledore's voice breaks through the haze of dreams like a horrible hammer, there to shutter the entire world.

They both bolt up right away. Harry doesn't need to rub sleep out of his eyes, he instantly reaches for his glasses.

"Hogwarts is under attack! Meet me at the Hog's Head! And Severus… bring Harry, too!"

The serene voice thunders in the darkness of the room, and with it comes a chill to the air that freezes the blood in Harry's veins.

The orders are spoken clearly though with an urging undercurrent. Harry's heart seems to understand the words sooner than his mind because it starts pounding. It beats wildly - while it can, Harry thinks bitterly.

"We need to go," he says without looking up from his hands in his lap. He sounds strangely automatic, machine-like almost and he clears his throat. It takes him a moment to realise that neither of them moves.

His hand clutches at the blanket to push it off, but suddenly long fingers curl over his. Snape's palm is covered in cold sweat and is slightly shaking as if he were woken from a nightmare, but Harry knows it's not the case.

Reality is their nightmare now.

He has to force himself to look at Snape.

Severus is shaking his head. The panic Harry sees in the black eyes is gut-wrenching. It breaks his heart instantly.

"No."

"It has to happen, Severus. We knew it from the start."

Snape shakes his head wilder. Black locks fly like angry snakes. "No. Not yet. Not ever."

"Severus... let me go!" Harry pleads, trying to pull his hand away, but the fingers are tight enough to bruise his skin.

There's something savage and desperate in Snape when he yells, "I said NO!" But then his voice breaks as he croaks, "You need to stay here. I will talk to Albus."

Harry wants his voice to sound placatory but it betrays him and trembles when it slips out of his mouth. "You heard him. It's time. We need to go. I need to go."

"You can't!" Snape shouts and something vicious tears at Harry's heart when he sees tears well up in the black eyes. Then, broken, Snape whispers, "You can't die…"

"Severus, this has to happen!" Harry feels his eyes prickle, too but tries to stay strong, why, he's not sure anymore. Why should he die for the greater good, if the only man he cares for will suffer? Yet he still says, "If you love me, you have to let me go now."

Something almost visibly breaks in Snape then. It's perhaps the fantasy that allowed him to believe in a future that was never meant to exist, and now it shatters to millions of pieces, each sharp and cutting into his heart, tearing it apart.

Severus watches him intent and aching for a long moment, then Harry feels the grip loosen, and at last slim fingers fall away from his wrist.