Bring Me To Life : A Continuation
by I Got Tired of Waiting

Part I : The Past to the Present
A Cause For Celebration

The champagne cork flew far in the air just ahead of the stream of pale liquid rocketing out of the bottle held in Severus' hands. Head thrown back, he chortled, the mirth making all the wrinkles on his face squeeze together until his eyes almost disappeared.

Not quite as fast as he once was, Harry nonetheless dodged the foamy stream with instincts honed from years of dodging Bludgers. Behind him, Ron wasn't so lucky. A loud splash and shocked yelp later, Ron stood frozen, the icy liquid running down his face and beard onto his new robes. One look at his stunned face set everyone laughing. Hermione bent double, her hands on her knees as Harry leaned against her helplessly. With a shake of his head flinging sparkling droplets onto the crowd around him, Ron chuckled good-naturedly.

Severus, his eyes dancing, triumphantly shouted, "Bull's eye! How absolutely, delightfully perfect, Weasley! I believe that almost makes us even."

"What for?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Ahem. I seem to recall a green slime covering almost every surface of my Potions classroom when you and Mr Potter," he pointedly glanced at Harry, "decided to substitute Blasting Beetle Eyes for bat's wings." As Ron sputtered, he added, "Ten points to Slytherin." The crowd roared.

Surveying the familiar faces around him, Severus recognized many who had attended either his or Harry's Potions classes at Hogwarts. At one time or another, each individual had, in varying degrees of severity, exploded something in their classroom. Except one--Hermione--and she didn't count as she was in a 'class' all by herself.

A mental groan: Oh, that was so bad.

Well, it's true. Neville was the unmitigated disaster, not her. I never did understand why she always paired with him. Damn, I keep aiming for him and missing.

Pity, it was pity. That and we had a keen desire to survive the class; she just drew the short straw. Oh, and you're missing Neville because Ginny keeps diverting it. How do you think Ron got hit? Ginny has her own flair for vengeance.

Lucky sod.

With renewed vigour, Severus shook the bottle once more, releasing yet another stream of foamy liquid. "Revenge will be mine," he declared, smirking. People scattered, laughing, as he nailed yet another victim.

Harry moved off to the side and, with a small grin on his face, admired his husband's style as he worked the crowd, drawing everything out until it had been savoured to its fullest. Adept at the theatrics of his position, it had been many generations since the school had seen a Headmaster with such a flair for drama, although it hadn't always been this way.

Quite a change from the dour, sarcastic, reclusive Potions master of old. Only took you a century or so. Harry laughed to himself.

Don't forget ironic, brilliant, witty, graceful down long hallways, able to sweep robes better than anyone else...

All right, all right. I get the picture; don't tempt me in front of all these people. However, you did forget one small thing from before you became so urbane.

Oh? Really? Let me see. Ah yes--handsome, debonair, brilliant--did I already mention brilliant? At the shake of Harry's head, Severus mentally shrugged. What?

Lonely. You forgot lonely.

You know, Potter, he started with a growl, then deflated. Maybe I should just get you a hammer--it might be less painful.

Harry chuckled at the mental image of hammering his husband's head; Severus reciprocated with a picture of him grabbing the hammer and using it to hang Harry's entrails to the wall. The typical exchange cheered Harry immeasurably; tonight's announcements would present enough difficulties without adding more to it.

Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, stepped to the front of the stage-like area raised at the back of the Great Hall where they'd just finished dinner. Cleared of the supper-things and the toasting-things, the giant room now held the speaking-things; the long neat rows of comfortable chairs, stretching all the way back to the doors, easily seated the several hundred people who'd come to celebrate his anniversary. Behind him, the staff sedately waited, the older ones in the back row already nodding off from the heavy meal.

Of course, if they wanted the champagne, they had to hear Severus speak, and he waited patiently for everyone to settle in. Rumour had been strong this year that something Special and Unusual was planned. So what in years past had been a huge pile of regrets and a short stack of RSVP's became this year's 'in' place to be, with every invitation accepted.

Sitting quietly with the audience, Harry carefully placed himself close enough for Severus to see him clearly without straining, but far enough away not to draw attention; it had ever been this way. Beside him sat Ron and Hermione, behind him Ginny and Neville. He knew their extended families were interspersed throughout the crowd; he'd lost count of their numbers, although he was quite certain Hermione could have told him, down to the 'halves' not yet born, had he really wanted to know. With Remus and Arabella in front of him, he felt secure surrounded by so many people he knew and loved.

Severus raised his hands; an expectant silence fell over the crowd. "How many of you actually remember Albus Dumbledore?" he began, frowning with what Harry knew was sadness--rather than ire--at the smattering of hands throughout the audience. "So I thought. And since I'm not old, I have to ask: damn it, when did the rest of you get so young?" He waited out the appreciative chuckles. "I often wonder what Albus would say if he saw us today. With so much change, would he recognize us at all?"

Listening to the dulcet tones more than the words, Harry found himself asking himself much the same question, not in general, but about 'them'. Severus made it sound so simple, when Harry knew better.

He looked at his hands folded quietly in his lap. Old hands they were now, the fine hairs on the back just as white as the wild halo surrounding his equally wrinkled face. It seemed unfair somehow that, being the older of the two, Severus had aged better; the long silver hair, pulled back from his face in a long queue, accentuated his still-strong face. Perhaps a bit craggier, he thought ruefully, but at least Severus' nose didn't droop as bad as Harry's arse.

Your arse is fine as it is. Severus commented.

Harry snorted, not deigning to answer; he knew better about that, too.

So much had happened in those years and Harry wasn't certain which had changed them more--their life's bond or their life's work. Oh, on the surface, he supposed they weren't too much different. Although they didn't move as fast as they once had and their blood didn't quicken with quite the same frequency, their backs were still as straight, their clear eyes still reflected an inner wit as keen and sharp as any in their youth. The spell kept them obscenely healthy.

Nor had their routines changed all that much. Severus still prowled the halls of Hogwarts, his spare but loose, long-legged gait sent his robes billowing out gracefully around him. Harry still enjoyed those rare moments when, turning a corner or entering a long hallway, he could surreptitiously watch Severus' ground-eating pace. He still found the dark robes flowing, the silky hair flying, the panther-like grace with which Severus moved one of the most arousing things he'd ever seen. Severus didn't walk, he stalked. And pounced. Harry truly liked the pouncing parts.

Picture me licking my lips in anticipation.

Oh, behave! You're about to make a spectacle of yourself. Wouldn't do to blow your image at this late date, now would it? He felt Severus' mock-pout and sent him his laughter.

And his blatant approval as he openly admired the slender figure making another point with a graceful wave of his elegant hands. It never ceased to amaze him how tasty his old man still looked in black: flowing black robes over a black mandarin collared shirt tucked into his favourite...

How ever did you talk me into leather trousers?

I believe sexy-as-hell tight arses came into it somewhere.

Severus snorted. Well, something came.

Harry's answering smile faded as he remembered the other things that used to 'adorn' their attire. How glad he'd been the day they'd retired the weapons belt worn low on the hips, one side of which had held a quick-release knife holster, the other a small but powerful Muggle pistol. The old jest about the leather trou only served to cover the stark reality; its strength and flexibility easily supported the special pockets near the calf concealing their respective collections of Muggle daggers. Other holsters at the sleeves of their robes served a similar function.

I sometimes miss those robes. They were far more comfortable and certainly less fussy than the current fashion.

I don't. They were too--Muggle.

Not everything bad is Muggle, Harry.

True, but not by much. And the day you follow 'fashion' is the day I wear day-glo pink.

A raised brow followed by a thoughtful, Pink, eh? made him smile. Considering the current foppish styles, and Severus' disdainful opinion of them, Harry felt reasonably safe with his statement.

Severus looked good tonight, but then again, Severus could make sackcloth appealing. Studying Severus' traditional robes critically, Harry thought the older style they'd once adopted suited Severus' leanness better than the draped black silk he currently wore. Of course, that he'd looked dangerous and lethal in them had never influenced Harry's reaction at all.

There was no comparison, really. The older style had been more like an open collarless coat or cloak, yet fuller, falling several inches short of the floor. The open sleeves had not been as wide and deep at the cuff as what Severus was currently wearing. Harry smiled. Severus had wanted the cloaks to fall straight from the tailored shoulders like a Muggle duster, but Harry had insisted on the 'billow' of which he was so fond...

I admit there were some 'benefits' derived; I almost didn't walk for a week after your compelling 'persuasion' as to the 'desired' fit of my cloak. It would have served you right had I been permanently disabled by your enthusiasm.

I didn't see you complaining about the results, just the practical application of the theory as McGonagall was wont to say. And if memory serves, I was quite comfortable with you nice and warm between me and the cold stone floor.

The silence in the hall caught his attention.

Um, Severus? Perhaps you should resume? While I can think of several tempting things that talented mouth of yours can do other than spew such pompous drivel, your audience is...

The only drivel I'm hearing is--never mind.

Harry almost laughed aloud. While I've always enjoyed your rather intense 'I'm-About-To-Hungrily-Devour-Harry' stare, your guests are growing weary of your distraction.

Wonderful. And who says I was staring at you?

With which, Severus continued his speech. "We have secured our families; certainly he would have approved. How many generations have been born? Family was important to Albus; he protected me, gave me his abiding respect, not only because he was my blood-kin, my great-uncle, but because he believed everyone deserved affection." He paused to let the ripples of surprise subside before continuing, "To him, family was a celebration. I believe he would have heartily approved of how we've extended it, changed it, nurtured it."

You are my only family now, Severus sent him, somewhat subdued, a picture of a laughing girl with chestnut hair flashing through his mind.

I know. I miss her, too, but they're also our family, Harry soothed, looking at Ron and Hermione. He suddenly realised that most of their 'family', except Lenore, came from him, not Severus. Arabella and Remus were the only two remaining his husband could claim as friends of his own. He'd never thought about Severus' accommodation of his friends, how intrusive his life had been; it must have been torture for the reclusive Potions master.

It had its moments. For a while I felt like a baby-sitter, but growing up has a way of equalizing things. Adding Draco to the mix certainly made it far more interesting, and at least Hermione was smart enough to work most of it out on her own and keep them 'occupied'. That really left only you to deal with. You were, at best, a confounding pain in the arse and an utterly shaggable brat. At worst--

Just don't go all gushy on me, all right? He lightly chuckled and felt, rather than heard, Severus' rather caustic reply.

Ron and Hermione--and Draco. Harry slid his eyes to glance at his friends, now two where once were three, living together while Hermione and Draco finished their degrees and Ron finished his Auror's training. They'd thrived and, after they ceased to be a novelty, were called The Trio. However, they'd met some obstacles when they tried to get married. Not that this had stopped them from cohabiting.

And breeding.

Shortly after she finished her advanced studies, Hermione found herself pregnant with their first child, a move Harry always suspected was engineered by Severus in conjunction with Ron and Draco. Severus was the only one who prepared her contraceptive potion and he was too good a Potions master to have made such a simple mistake.

It was a simple mistake, I was momentarily distracted, if you recall.

Oh? How so?

I was brewing it the night you decided to come down and "assist" me. He sent a graphic image of his memory.

Oh.

As eloquent as ever, Potter, he drawled.

Harry covered his laugh with a cough. So you're saying Seth is my fault?

Well, if the hat fits... You're the one who caused the problem in the first place, with your lovely distraction.

Oh--bugger off.

Anytime, Potter. He chuckled. Anytime.

Harry wondered with wry humour what Severus would do if he took him up on the offer--here, right now. A frustrated mental growl filling his head gave him his answer.

That Christmas had been memorable. For the first time in years they were going to the Burrow for Christmas, but their plans went awry when Poppy had a family emergency, leaving only Flitwick and Trelawney to watch the small handful of students remaining at Hogwarts for the holidays. So the Burrow came to them. On Christmas Eve, a jubilant Ron, a dazed Draco, and a weary eight-month pregnant Hermione arrived to celebrate the Holidays with them. The rest of the Weasleys, excepting George who stayed on, would join them for Christmas Day.

Celebrating Christmas Eve, they'd none-too-gently ribbed Hermione about her ungainliness, yet earned a softening around her eyes with their open wonder as they gingerly touched the strong movements under her loose robes. Severus had teased the two men mercilessly at their part in it, helping them hide their fear of the upcoming birth while levitating small rubber balls on Hermione's belly to watch the resident 'mountain troll' kick them off.

The blizzard had come upon them unexpectedly in the night--as did the collapse of the Floo Network--and the labour pains Hermione started in the wee hours of Christmas Day.

Truly isolated with the Floo down and the Hogwarts anti-Apparation wards up, Ron and Harry coached with pale determination, their hearts frozen at times by Hermione's panting screams and her body's relentless effort. Severus and Draco, with the small knowledge they had of such things, delivered the child, a healthy boy, but they couldn't staunch the blood. So much blood. Overwhelmed by her increasingly frailty, George lost it.

Ron and Draco frantically searched Madam Pomfrey's library and finally found the spells they needed, while Severus and Harry did all they could to keep her alive and George calm.

The baby was huge with his lusty cries and his bright red Weasley hair and grey Malfoy eyes. It was at this time Hermione began to have her radical ideas about the bloodlines. Harry smiled at the memory of the comforting domesticity of the two men framing her on the bed while she nursed the baby. Setherus they named him; Seth they called him. Seth was their first godchild.

The first of how many? Never mind--I'm not certain I really want to know.

What a relief, because I lost count quite a long time ago.

Family, something they acquired in dribs and drabs, sometimes seemingly by accident. Like Ginny and Neville. Severus had already cautiously considered Ginny a friend when she'd stoutly defended them on Harry's eighteenth birthday. Then she'd started dating Neville seriously. He soon learned it was 'love me, love my boyfriend' when he made the mistake of baiting Neville in front of her. After experiencing her famous temper firsthand, Severus wisely left most of his sarcasm at home--at least where Neville was concerned.

Which partially explained Severus' surprise when they asked him to officiate at their wedding. He recalled Severus' teasing face and words as he bound them, the cords turning from satin to beautiful ivy once woven, the softening around Severus' eyes meaning little to them but everything to Harry. They never guessed the depth of his affections towards them; Severus would never have expended the effort if he hadn't loved them in his own way.

Afterwards, Severus planned his exquisite mischief with all the care only a Slytherin could devise. Neville was convinced he'd hexed the cake (he had) and the stunned look on their faces when they went on the enchanted ballroom floor for the first dance was beyond price. Harry remembered Severus' laughter--so rare then, but all the more special for it. He chuckled, remembering their wedding night gift--Neville stammering and Ginny blushing. Severus' idea, that one, wicked man.

I'm still not certain they knew what to do with it, Severus thought with a very evil chuckle.

Well, it certainly wasn't for a lack of explanation--you made my ears flame.

It wasn't for their ears.

Severus' eloquence once again caught his attention. "We've seen the beginnings of two centuries, witnessed the craziness of the Muggles, and fought hard to keep our Wizarding world separate and secluded even as the Muggles hunted us as magical slaves for their senseless wars."

Such horror, a life's effort; it seemed unreal how easily it distilled into such simple words.

They'd ventured into the Muggle's society, Harry's previous life there making him the perfect spy. Sometimes with The Trio, they'd venture forth into the mundane to observe, later to fight. At first they just wanted to see what the furore was all about with the little Muggle wars springing up all over the globe.

Hermione was worried (and rightly so as it turned out) that the smaller conflicts would ignite (as they had so often done in Muggle history) into a full global war. Each incident by itself was nothing to worry about but, taken as a whole, they signalled the beginnings of The Devastation.

Responding to an unspoken premonition, Severus took him beyond their morning stretching exercises and added to their routine the Asian ways of defending one's self with and without magic. Together they gained the expertise to use the daggers and pistols integrated into their defence as skill and circumstance warranted.

In turn, Harry taught him Muggle customs and slang, slowly eroding the precision of Severus' sharp tongue. Oh, he sometimes enjoyed the confusion caused when he used a Muggle phrase, relishing the subtle victory over a clueless victim of his double entendres, but mostly he found the corruption of his honed language insupportable. Harry often endured some rather lengthy discourses on the subversive nature of Muggle language.

But there'd been some fun as well. For a very brief time before war broke out in England, Severus introduced him to the 'alternative' night life of London. While he didn't much like the sometimes-desperate frenzy of the bars and other establishments Severus managed to find, he did have to admit it was rather amusing to experience the rare freedom of socializing where worry was reduced to wondering whether the biker standing next you was the one who had just pinched your arse.

Dreaming of your biker friend again? He was so attractive.

Oh yes, enchanting--if you go for the twenty stone hairy gorilla, fake leather beer-belly type.

Ah, but he had an admirable taste for appetizing arses.

Ri-ight. He lusted after yours, but pinched mine.

I got you out of there in one piece. didn't I?

Uh-huh, but not before we almost wore our wands out with all those Obliviate spells. And I just loved running one step ahead of the Aurors chasing us. I don't even want to know what would have happened had they caught us!

Well, yes, but they didn't, did they? And they didn't have a clue as to who those 'renegade' Wizards were. Still don't. They still talk about us down at the Ministry, Severus thought rather proudly. Plus, even you must admit, the sex was utterly fantastic that night.

Harry had no reply to this. Severus was, as usual, absolutely correct, right down to his delectable arse.

Unfortunately, that little escapade was one of the last light-hearted things they did for many years. As the Muggles discovered the hidden wizarding world, it was a short step for them to decide they could use these magical people to their advantage against their enemies. The Muggles quickly became adept at capturing and enslaving wizards and witches, using their families as leverage. Some Muggle-born joined them willingly, their ties with the wizarding world easily severed as the ancient Mudblood prejudice of the Purebloods had left nothing but a bitter desire for revenge.

Growing more desperate with each passing year, Severus' biting humour devolved into a soul-eating, bitter cynicism as the Muggle's ingenuity intruded further into their daily lives. With each failure to stop the abductions, he despaired and mourned the loss of the good people who refused to submit. And at times, when it could be borne in silence no longer, Severus would vent his vituperation, usually at Harry, who bore each episode stoically and never took it personally; he knew how much Severus suffered.

It was much worse than the times with Voldemort. He'd at least been only one wizard with a finite group of followers. This was genocide, pitting the small Wizarding world against the vast resources of the Muggle world, a world very few of them truly understood. Suddenly, the Muggle-born who remained were no longer pariahs; many were recruited and trained as Aurors, their knowledge and way of thinking now invaluable.

For an interminable time, life revolved around rescuing wizards from the clutches of the Muggles. Ron, a powerful Auror for many years, still headed the Muggle Response Team responsible for not only retrieving Wizarding families out of Muggle installations but also keeping pace with Muggle surveillance techniques which, with their war technologies, grew by leaps and bounds every year. Drawn into it, Harry and Severus had helped in the field where possible while trying not to get caught themselves.

It had been close at times, too close.

TBC