A/N For all disclaimer jockeys, see the first posting.
Previously…
Snape raced to the body and fell to his knees, wiping soaked ebony tresses from his eyes. "Shit."
His student's wand was snapped, and he lay limply on the ground 6 feet from it. Blood soaked the grass, pooling from gaping wounds in his chest and a slash across his beautiful throat. His breathing was erratic, and his eyes were tightly shut.
"Oh, my love," Severus said, his voice cracking.
The teen's eyes fluttered open. A weak smile came across his face, as blood dripped from his lips.
"Gods no," he said, taking the boy into his arms. He stared into the expressive eyes of the one he loved. And all Severus could see was a mixture of love, joy and pain. All he could hear was the ragged breathing of his only love.
What had they done to deserve this? For the first time in his life, Severus was happy… and his lover was too. Voldemort was defeated, and now they were going to be separated again. "It can't happen this way…"
Soft fingers rested lightly upon the Potions Master's lips. "Shh." It was soft, barely audible, in the battle field, but it carried the weight of the ages.
Severus took them from his lips and wrapped them tightly in his hand.
The teen's breathing became more erratic and the teen's face looked like porcelain as the blood drained from it. His lips became purple, fading to blue, and Severus' heart broke.
The dying man's eyes closed. "I… love…you… Sev," he rasped. He then gave two final breaths and then his hand went limp as he did not breathe again.
Tears fell freely and Snape sobbed, ignoring the burning fires, and groans of the wounded. He held his fallen angel… now an angel in truth… and with trembling fingers, he traced a faint lightning bolt shaped scar.
And now on with the story… (You didn't think that I would end it there, did you?)
Chapter Two: The Other Half of My Soul
"Never wonder what I'll feel as living shuffles by
You don't have to ask me and I need not reply
Every moment of my life from now until I die
I will think or dream of you and fail to understand
How a perfect love can be confounded out of hand…"
--Radames, "Written in the Stars" from Aida
Severus fell to his knees amidst the flowers littering the grave of the boy hero. Silently, he traced the words written on the monument.
Harry James Potter
31 July 1980 – 24 June 1998
Beloved Friend, Godson, Hero
"He lived only to show us the way…"
The normally placid Potions Master wiped away an errant tear and looked down, as though ashamed. "You never let me say it, you know? Not once, in all our time together. I know you'd been hurt before. By your family… your friends. And you never wanted to be let down if I didn't mean it. But I did, my dearest love. I still do, and I always will. I love you, Harry James Potter, and I await the day that we're together once more."
He closed his onyx eyes and remembered that previous February. It had been their second Valentine's Day, and of course, Harry had been inundated with Valentines from every girl (and several boys) in the school. Apparently, their secret had still been safe. But Harry had been forced to skip the evening's festivities due in part to a terrible cough.
Harry lay on a bed in the Hospital Wing, completely miserable. He was flushed with fever, sweaty, and had been unable to speak most of the day.
"I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see you in here for something normal, Potter. I mean, after 6 and a half years, I can't imagine how many times I wished that you would come to see me for something other than a near death experience," Pomfrey said, as she cast a temperature monitoring charm. "Tsk, 39 degrees C. I wonder where Severus is with that Febris potion."
The doors opened quietly as Harry wished for Severus to hurry up. The sooner he got better, the sooner he could escape Madame Pomfrey. He inhaled as though to say something, then fell into a deep coughing fit that left him breathless as before, but with stabbing pains in his chest, arms, and stomach. He rested against the pillows and tried to concentrate on anything but the woman's voice. Harry turned his face to the windows and looked at the falling snow.
A cool cloth came to rest on Harry's forehead and wiped away the moisture. "Well, Potter. Next time I tell you that a snowball fight is unwise, perhaps you ought to listen," Sev said in his softest whisper.
"You're just jealous," Harry responded in a hoarse murmur. He coughed slightly. "Because you lost. Miserably."
"If I lost, then why do I have to make you Potions?"
The nurse came to Harry's bedside. "Severus, did you bring the medicine?"
Snape nodded. "Yes. I was attempting to give Mr. Potter a hand with his perspiration. Also, Albus bade me invite you to the Valentine's feast. It is scheduled to start in approximately 10 minutes."
She looked affronted. "I can't just leave Mr. Potter here."
Sev raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. I commend your devotion to your most frequent patient. However, you know Albus' requests are more like commands, and I am a fully qualified medi-wizard. I believe I can handle a case of the 'sniffles', Poppy." He sighed, then began in an acrid tone. "Besides, if you believe for one moment that I will willingly subject myself to that pink and crimson monstrosity that is the Head Girl's idea of a decorated Great Hall, you are most sorely mistaken. I merely thought that I would allow you to experience the… festivities," he said, scathingly.
She paused, sighing. "I suppose it would be alright. And I would be saving you from a fate worse than death. If you can refrain from taking points from Gryffindor this time around?"
Severus glared. "Pomfrey, please go. I have a feeling he won't do much to upset me right now."
The nurse nodded, and walked to the doors. "If you need anything, just send one of the house-elves."
Snape nodded, rifling through his pockets to find the vial of violet potion. "Thought she'd never leave, Harry."
Harry coughed, reaching for a tissue. "I hate being sick. Almost as much as I hate this place. I mean, what if Voldemort came after me, right now?"
Snape guided the teen to a sitting position. "Then I would defend you… and in the unlikely event that I couldn't help, you could always sneeze on him."
Harry glared as the Potions Master handed him the bottle.
"That was good. Almost a passable glare, Harry. Keep practicing."
"Insufferable git," Harry said, before knocking back the potion. He sputtered. "Merlin, that's nasty tasting."
"Do you think I made it that way, just for you?" Sev asked, pouring him a small cup of pumpkin juice. "Drink this as well."
Harry complied, laying back against the pillows as he handed the glass back to his lover. "I was wondering if we would have any time to ourselves today."
"Well, secret relationships are somewhat difficult to carry on when one is being watched. A rather large pile of salutations, Harry. Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Yeah. It's one short," he said, mischievously as Snape brushed the slick fringe from Harry's forehead.
"I told you last year. I despise this holiday. It is nothing but an excuse for people like Lockhart to experience a greater feeling of self-worth through the idol worshipping of brainless admirers. It also helps to boost sales in sweet and flower shops," Sev scoffed. "I believe the last time I received any type of Valentine's Day greeting was your second year. From Lockhart, unsurprisingly. But that was after I blasted him through the air with the Dueling Club."
"That must have been greatly satisfying," Harry rasped, as he closed his eyes momentarily.
Sev wrung out the washcloth again. "You have no idea," he said, wiping Harry's face gently. "I have no idea why she put you in full pajamas, if you're running such a fever. It's not like it's at all cold in this room."
"It's Pomfrey." As though those two words could explain everything in the cosmos. "She's weird."
Snape scoffed. "And you could never be accused as such."
"I'd argue with you, but you may have a point. I merely wish to state that I am not the only weird person in this conversation." Silently, Harry took Snape's hand in his. "But I'm glad you're here, Sev. I didn't want to be alone tonight."
"Need to be told how much you are loved as well?"
Harry shook his head groggily as the potion took effect. "No. But you did. Te amo, Sev," he murmured as he fell asleep.
"I love you too, Harry."
Sev reached into his robes and pulled out a white rose. He held it in front of his eyes, examining it tenderly. Quietly, he replaced it in a larger bouquet that he had brought. "I know I told you that I hated flowers, but it was mostly due to my mother. She insisted I learn what each stood for, so that I would never offend someone by sending the wrong flowers. The edelweiss and Sweet William speak to your daring heart and gallantry. You're a Gryffindor. You have never lacked that, Harry. The orange blossom speaks to your innocence, as does the white rose, but also to our love, that will last forever. The pink and white roses mean that I love you still and I shall love you always. And as for me? I will wear a cedar leaf. 'I live for you.'" Without flourish, Sev placed the flowers at the base and kissed the inscribed name. "Till we meet again, my love," he said, voice breaking. "Te amo, possessor cordis mei."
All he could think of was never seeing verdant eyes or smelling Harry's scent, like lavender and oranges. Two rebellious tears fell to the soft earth of the recent grave as Sev stood up and backed away. In a split second, he was gone and the cemetery was as silent as the dead who rested in it.
--00--
5 months later…
Severus Snape sat in the Staff Room, in a darkened corner, quill scratching angrily over a Hufflepuff's parchment. He had long since abandoned red ink, as he couldn't stand the sight of it. His normally long hair was pulled back into a hasty ponytail, and he paused only to dip the quill tip into a bottle of green ink. He felt even that color tug at his heart, but he couldn't see any other color to use. He sighed and looked at the clock before continuing. Tonight had been the Halloween feast, and he had not even attended. As he was Deputy Headmaster, Minerva would no doubt be angry with him. He turned his attention back to the paltry attempt at an essay and continued the academic onslaught.
"Severus?"
He stiffened, completely aware of who it was, but did not look at her. "Minerva."
"Severus, did you even eat today?"
He continued working. "I fail to see what that has to do with anything, Minerva. I'm working." Sev knew he shouldn't have snapped at her like that. He knew that much, but he couldn't help it. The only thing worse than the Staff's disdain was the Staff's concern.
She did not take the hint, instead inched closer and crossed her arms on top of an arm chair. "Ever since you got back from holiday, you've been moody, sullen, silent… You asked me to move your quarters from the dungeons, I was happy to oblige. It should have made it much easier to speak with you. But you rarely talk to anyone except in class, you rarely eat, you never sleep, you wouldn't even go to Quidditch matches unless your team was playing. What happened? Honestly, you're scaring the Staff as well as the students!"
Snape sighed. "It's personal, Minerva!"
"Severus Septimus Snape, you tell me now!" she yelled.
He jumped, breaking the tip of his quill off. "Damnit, Minerva! It's none of your damn business," he snapped.
"Is it Albus?"
"No."
"Draco, then?"
"No," he said, more
forcefully.
"Then who?"
"My lover," he mumbled.
Her eyes grew wider. "I didn't… I mean, none of us knew…"
"Of course not, Minerva. That was the entire point. Both of us knew how the majority of the Wizarding World feels on the subject of homosexuality. He was more than a casual shag, more than a two date boyfriend. He was the other half of my soul. I couldn't stand to be in those rooms, knowing that he's not there anymore. I can't sleep knowing that he's not in my arms, and that he won't be there when I wake up. I can't stand the sight of red ink because at the end of the battle, my hands and robes were coated in his blood. I can't stand to watch Quidditch because he played it so well. I can't find any joy in what I once did. In the same battle that I lost my mentor and friend as well as my godson, I lost him," he snapped pedantically. "He died in my arms. His last words were of our love. And I never so much as got to tell him how much I loved him. And it's eaten away at me ever since we buried him."
"Oh my gods, Severus. I'm so…"
"Don't say 'sorry', Minerva. I am not one of your Gryffindors. I don't want to hear an apology for something not your fault. I didn't say this for pity. I told you this so that you and the rest of the Staff will leave me the fuck alone when I ask it."
He stuffed his parchments under his arm and stalked off, leaving his broken quill and ink sitting beside a black journal as the door slammed shut.
Minerva sighed, finding the book to be a Potions workbook. She gathered his things and set them aside to await his return.
--00--
By the way, the language Severus and Harry are both using is Latin. Harry says 'I love you,' and Severus says, 'I love you, the possessor of my [heart or] soul.'
So… a bit on how Severus is coping. Or more accurately, not coping. Poor Sevvie. Next chapter, we will have a visit from an old friend, Christmas Eve, and more plot exposition. Hope you enjoyed this… and please review.
Thanks to my reviewers:
Lady Maria, athenakitty (in order: later, you'll see, maybe, and he's already dead), Usagi Serenity Yui Cosmos (oh yes, definitely sure), Katy999, Renae Nyx Hunter, WhiteFox, Maria, bluebird161221, ZetaStar, Bianca, slash-gurl50
To all of you who admitted to crying… I'm happy that I could make you cry, if that makes any sense… it means that I am connecting with you… even though I've never met any of you!!! :P Anyways, there's bound to be some more fluff soon, but don't worry, I nearly have the manuscript done, so just have to transpose.
S
RHF