Notes: This story seems to have grown since I first imagined it sometime last year. A one-shot rapidly changed into three chapters, then four, and then five. But here it is, at last, the end. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And a big thank you to all my lovely reviewers, because feedback makes it all worthwhile… to people like shallow ole me, anyhow ;-)
This chapter, and especially the use of 'The Stolen Child' by W.B.Yeats, is dedicated to Sara, whose fantabulous review inspired me to get my arse in gear and finish the story.
Elysium - Part the Second
"Careful, Severus. It's my dreams you're treading on."
Severus said nothing. He was hallucinating; lack of sleep and that rebellious bit of desperate hope conspiring against him in a terrible – God let him be here – cruel trick.
Harry continued to walk down the aisle towards Severus, silently stepping over broken tiles and decaying wood. He stopped and sank onto the pew behind, perched precariously on the rotting timber, so close. Severus felt breath on the back of his neck, and smelt for one moment that smell of warmth and summer and youth that clung to Harry and which had plagued Severus' thoughts and dreams for days.
"I'm here," Harry said softly.
Severus opened his eyes, "Why?" He hated himself for the simplicity of the question, and for the weakness in his voice as he asked it.
There was silence as Harry considered his answer. When he replied, his voice was soft and inwardly bitter, "I'm too selfish to let you go."
"I won't go back to Hogwarts."
"I'm not -"
" – so if Dumbledore's sent you, you can tell him -"
"Dumbledore? You think I'd come all this way for Dumbledore?" Harry gave a hollow laugh. "I'm not asking you to go back to Hogwarts, that's not what I came for."
"Then why did you come here?" Severus asked, turning to face Harry with weary eyes. "What do you want?"
For a moment Harry was taken aback by the tiredness in Severus' face, and dropped his gaze to avoid it. He spoke quietly, "I want to know why you made me leave, after..."
Severus turned away again, "Because you are my student, and I -"
"I'm not your student anymore! And if that's what matters so much, why didn't you stop me before, when I backed you up against your desk and gave you a blow job? What are you afraid of?"
That I might not be able to say no. "I am not -"
"Please," Harry's voice was strained, "Please, just don't say no, not now..."
Arms reached to touch Severus, and he leaned into the embrace. Warm breath on his neck, followed by warm lips, pressing a kiss to his cheek, to the nape of his neck… How much he wanted to turn round and taste… He opened his eyes and tore himself away. Those fading saints were accusatory now, why so weak, Severus? Why so weak?
He stood abruptly and turned to face Harry, immediately wishing he hadn't, so that he wouldn't have to face the awful confusion in the younger man's eyes. "Why are you here?" he demanded, "Have you come to torment me? I made you leave because I couldn't stand to be near you, because it's disgusting, because God, I disgust myself…"
"But why? Why won't you let me -" Harry reached out for Severus, but the older man pushed him away. He sighed, and silently implored Severus to let him say what he was about to without interrupting, "Listen to me, please. Listen to me. You're scared of me" – Severus shook his head, about to deny it – "you're scared of me because I make you want me. You don't want to lose control. I terrify you because you think that if you do, you'll break me. You think you don't deserve this, me, whatever. But you do, and don't worry, I know that you're fucked up, and that scares me a bit, but so am I. So, you see, it doesn't matter what you say, because for some twisted reason I understand you, and you understand me better than anyone, so please don't deny me that." Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, "I want you so much it hurts. I'd fucking worship you, if you'd just let me…"
Severus gazed at Harry and slowly felt his heart being ripped out, "No." Why could the boy not have left him alone? Why must he force Severus to push him away so hurtfully? "You are wrong." Lies. " I don't want you." Lies. "And if you think that prostrating yourself in this disgusting manner will make me do anything other than despise you, you are also deluded. Did you think that -" Severus was silenced by the hand Harry placed over his mouth.
"Please, stop it. I know you think it'll make me go away, but I know you're lying."
Severus sank down onto the wood again and looked up at Harry, "You come so close to understanding me completely," he said. "But I understand you too well."
"What do you mean?"
"This is not for you," Severus replied. "You belong in a world full of Weasleys, where you go to work with Arthur and Lupin, and Molly knits you jumpers at Christmas. What you want more than anything -"
" – is you."
Severus shook his head, "No. What you want is a family." He tried not to watch the awful realisation in Harry's eyes, "You want to stand like you did this morning, as somebody's son, somebody's brother…"
"But I still don't understand why -"
"You cannot have both. Would Molly and Arthur understand why you came here?" Severus dropped his gaze, "Once you cross the line between their world and mine, there will always be something that makes you different, something that keeps you on the outside. I know. And I know that if it came to a choice, which, you see, it has… it would never be me."
Harry was silent, and sat down heavily opposite Severus, ignoring the protesting groans of the decaying wood. He sank his head into his hands and Severus felt the inevitability of what was to come. He knew what Harry must have seen when he looked into that mirror at the age of eleven, and knew that if he looked again now, he would see exactly the same thing. Blood, after all, is thicker than most things.
Harry had lifted his head, and was gazing blankly at the face of the Virgin. Whatever answer he found there would, Severus knew, never be entirely satisfactory. He had had years of practice and had figured that out long ago.
And then Harry turned to Severus, and there were tears in his eyes, traitorously threatening to spill down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Severus, I can't…"
Severus nodded. He had known, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. And when Harry dropped to the floor on his knees in front of Severus, it was so hard not to reach out… Then the boy looked up at Severus with raw, aching need and grief and pain, and kissed him. Severus closed his eyes gratefully and parted his lips to let Harry's tongue find his. It was brutal and fierce and so horribly tender and Severus could taste the tears which flowed freely down Harry's face, and Harry's hand was at the back of his head, pulling him down closer, tangled in his hair. Severus was trapped against the pew, not that he was protesting, and Harry's kiss grew fevered, frantic, full of desperation. Severus wrapped one arm round Harry's waist and pulled him up from the floor without breaking contact, and Harry was suddenly above Severus, one knee on either side of him, grinding himself against the older man, making them gasp. Severus held on tighter and Harry was clinging to him desperately, tongues pushing against each other, trying to consume each other's lust, but eventually the boy had to pull away and when he did his lips were bruised, and his eyes were wet, and dark with desire.
"I'm sorry," Harry gasped, and fled, his footsteps echoing behind him in the suddenly cold emptiness of the chapel.
Severus leaned back against the back of his seat and gazed upon the face of the Virgin as Harry had. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the high, sweet, cold voice of the sister he had loved so much laughed at him.
My poor, lonely Severus… Don't cry now, baby, if it's for the best… You always were afraid of the kill, little brother, so afraid that next time it'd be you…
The saints remained silent, and after what had felt like hours he gave up waiting for them to reproach him, for he was sure that they could read his mind.
He fumbled in his pocket to find what he needed, and eventually his fingers closed around what he was looking for; that tiny, glittering vial of darkness.
…..
And five minutes later as he stumbles past the rotten door and emerges into the autumn sunlight, he can here the saints' voices, singing him to sleep… or is it her? Mocking him again for his stupidity as he is suddenly caught in a strong embrace, and surrounded by the smell of summer, and a tearful voice murmurs in his ear:
"I couldn't leave, I want you more than anything else…"
He closes his eyes and feels the arms tighten around him, and a small, empty crystal vial falls from his fingers, spinning slowly and glinting in all the colours of the rainbow before it hits the ground and shatters.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
~~~~~
