Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting

Part III : Conflict
Chapter Twenty Seven : Absence Makes the Heart Grow Sleepy

20 June 2003

Dumbledore was not fooled for an instant as to the source of Severus' dark shadowed eyes and slumping posture. After all, he'd been aiding and abetting the 'problem' all week. Coupled with the ugly rumours to which he was not immune and the hang-dog look the 'problem' had been wearing as a result, he knew exactly what the issues were. Flitwick's few words to him this afternoon made the matter urgent and he'd decided, during the soup, that he needed to clear the air, so to speak, with Harry this evening when they met to discuss the party.

And that time was now. The three of them, Minerva, Harry, and he had been working on the last details this evening and were as finished as Albus wanted to be. For the first time in a long time, he was heartily tired of his office and wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but with this business of Harry and Severus, he knew that desire would have to be put off for just a little while longer. As Harry was writing the last of the instructions to be given to the house-elves, Dumbledore caught Minerva's eyes over the young man's bent head and winked.

She nodded in acknowledgement and with a hidden smile said, "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm all for bed," McGonagall said, stretching, her hand covering her mouth as she yawned hugely.

"Minerva, stop that yawning," Dumbledore ordered, his mock growl belied by his broad smile. "Don't get us started, too. You go ahead and toddle off to bed; Harry and I have some things to discuss."

He looked at her meaningfully and per their pre-arranged signal, she left saying, "G'nite to you both."

Harry was confused. "G'nite, Minerva, but we're not--"

Albus interrupted him. "We most certainly are, Harry. Any more discussion and we'll plan the fun right out of the party. One must be spontaneous and leave some elements to chance or there's no room for merriment to evolve," Dumbledore said reasonably, hearing the door close behind McGonagall. He suddenly got serious, "Besides, I do need to have a chat with you, Harry."

Harry's face said he really didn't need to ask what about, but he did so anyway.

Dumbledore regarded him kindly and asked quietly, "Do you really need for me to spell it out for you?"

"No, I know. It's Severus," Harry said in a small voice.

"You know, he almost killed Flitwick today; the Mason, Evans, swears he's 'nutters'." Dumbledore told him sitting back in his chair waiting for the inevitable reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"How? What happened? Is he all right?" Harry asked frantically.

"Physically? Yes, they're all right. However, I don't think Severus has been fine for quite a while," Albus replied with a sniff. "The staff is only now beginning to realise what he's been struggling with this past year."

Dumbledore regarded him seriously, his face hard. "In fact, you've almost driven our mild-mannered Charms Professor to violence. Filius threatened to beat you this afternoon, you know. He said, and I quote, 'I never thought I would see the day when I wanted to take Potter over my knee and give him what-for. What the hell is he doing?' He thinks, and I have to agree with him, that you are being extremely thoughtless about the whole thing. You're going to lose Severus if you're not careful. I told him plainly that if my talk with you this evening was unsuccessful, he was welcome to try and pound some sense into you."

"That bad?" Harry asked contritely, looking away from the Albus' stern visage. He looked horrified and chagrined that his behaviour would drive the mild Flitwick to violence against him and reeled with Dumbledore's disapproval.

Dumbledore decided to drive it home. "Worse. He's not eating, he's not sleeping, and his concentration is non-existent. He's been nice to his students, for Merlin's sake. He's worried sick about you."

Harry asked, "Then what's making him prowl the streets?"

Dumbledore grew impatient, his voice quite forceful as he growled, "The only thing he's prowling right now is the back hallways. Damn it, Harry, just stop this. Talk to him. Tell him what you want, how you feel. Don't leave him hanging like this. It's just not good form for you to treat him this way."

Harry hung his head. "I wanted to ask him to marry me this weekend. For his birthday. I guess that's out of the question now," he said petulantly.

"Is there any particular reason you keep feeling sorry for yourself, or is this a general personality flaw?" Dumbledore asked with more heat than he intended. This whole situation was irritating, had been from the beginning and he didn't know with whom he was more irate--Harry for making the problem in the first place, or himself for going along with it. "You can't ask him to commit his life to you until you come clean about the rest of this sordid mess. Then, IF he's still speaking to you, and I remind you, with Severus' penchant for honesty that's a BIG if, then you can think about the future. But first, you MUST work through the past. NOW." He shook his head sadly. 'Although I have no doubt that in his current state, if you asked him right now and never told him, he'd still commit to you with no questions. More the fool him.'

Harry's small, hesitant tone told Albus that this young paramour was afraid to confront his lover with the truth. "You're right. I know. But knowing doesn't make it any easier."

His voice far away, Dumbledore decided to take pity on him and murmured, "Your stomach's on fire, your heart's beating out of your chest, your voice has fled to Paris for a long holiday. You planned your words, oh so carefully, before you confronted them and the moment you look into their eyes all previous thoughts disappear in the ether, never to return, leaving you to tell them your sorry secrets with only the truth and the feelings left in your soul." Harry looked sharply over at him, questioning.

Albus chuckled starkly. "Harry, why do you think old people are so adamant to younger people to do these things? Did you think you were the first person on earth to do something so abysmally stupid? The first to hurt someone with thoughtless actions? To wound their lover because they felt inadequate to tell them the truth? I will guarantee you, from my own life, you are not the first to have laid a foundation of half-truths until it came tumbling down around your ears." He sighed sadly. "I just hope you don't leave it too late as I did. The losses we take because we cannot conquer our fears are the ones we wake up regretting every day of our lives."

Harry gaped at him. "Go to bed, Harry. Go to Severus. If nothing else, tell him you love him. Let him sleep in peace. Please."

Harry nodded. As he got out of the chair, he looked down at the ancient Headmaster, seeing every mistake he ever made shining in his eyes. He put his hand on his shoulder and, leaning down, kissed the weathered cheek, whispering, "Thank you, sir."

He left without looking back, a pensive curl to his shoulders.

Dumbledore shook his head, thinking there might just be hope for them yet.

****

Harry took a deep breath before entering the door to their quarters. On the walk from the Headmaster's office he'd resolved that if Severus were not home, he would go out looking for him even if he had to ask every single blasted portrait in the castle where he was. Closing the door quietly behind him, he stepped into the sitting room. A quick glance around him revealed a search would not be necessary; he could see Severus through the open door of his private study sitting at his desk with his head in his arms.

'Asleep?' he asked himself as he dropped his robes on the back of the couch. The room was stifling, the air still and stale.

He walked into the study, concerned, and breathed a sigh of relief when he could see the regular rise and fall of Severus' back. 'Asleep, then.' After opening the windows, he sat down in the wing chair across from the desk and simply watched his lover, taking in his surroundings. It had been a long time since he'd just sat still. He noticed the sleeping potion immediately and, noting the seal, knew Severus had not taken any before he'd fallen asleep. 'Albus was right--he is exhausted. Severus rarely falls asleep without a potion if I'm not here.' The thought was humbling. He'd never much thought about the major part he'd taken in Severus' life, how his actions, or inaction in this case, directly affected his lover.

Severus was slumped on his arms at the desk; his outer robes discarded, he was in his shirt and trousers. The wrists poking out of the ends of the long sleeves were thinner, almost delicate, and paler than he remembered. He had a sudden picture in his head of them wrapped in bandages, bleeding, the victims of Lucius' vindictive punishments. Severus' shoulders, never robust, were now bony through the fine lawn of his shirt. Thinking of last night, he realised Severus had lost far more weight than he'd thought when he'd first seen him with sleepy eyes.

Severus' hair was clean and very long but dull; the normal protectants he used in it to keep it from sullying the brews were missing. This was possibly the deepest shock and brought the utmost shame. 'It takes days for those to wear out. He hasn't even been making his potions?'

He next noticed the quill spilling almost dried red ink on the fine wood of the antique desk. 'He fell asleep with it in his hand. Severus cherishes that desk too much to be sloppy about it.' He could see the edge of a book peeping out from under his hair and arms. 'Working on it? Commenting? Correcting? Editing? No telling with him.'

He was also still wearing his boots. Not necessarily a thing out of the ordinary, except in this room at this desk with the pale cream Aubusson carpet underneath. Severus always removed his footwear before stepping on it, not wanting to damage it. Harry could remember the joy on his face when he'd found the damn thing on one of their rare forays into Muggle London; Severus loved old things and trawled the antique shops, his favourite being in Saundersfoot in West Wales. It had been before he started his mastery that they'd last gone.

Harry sighed with regret. 'So many things wrong with this scene and most of them my fault,' he thought wearily. He looked at the clock--11:04 p.m. Time to get them both to bed.

He rose from the chair uncertain how to proceed. Severus was always hell to wake up right after he'd gone to sleep, but he just couldn't leave him there. Not only would he be stiff and sore the next day, Harry, in an act of selfishness he knew Dumbledore would approve, wanted Severus in bed with him. He moved to the side of him, close, an idea forming.

He gently placed his hands on Severus' back and ran his fingers and palms lightly up the spine easily felt under the thin fabric Severus was wont to wear during the summer months, feeling the muscle beneath his hand quiver. 'That's an auspicious beginning.'

When he reached the nape of his neck, he pushed the hair now falling mid-back to the side and bent down to feather his lips and tongue over the hot soft skin he found there when he gently pulled the collar back. He loved Severus' neck. Long and pale, the skin, velvety from the oils in his hair, was always sensitive to touch of any kind. He paid it due attention, tightening the way he always did whenever he touched his lover this way, his hands running slow random strokes along his back and arms.

Severus stirred and groaned. His head lifted from the desk and he sat back in the hard chair, still semi-asleep. Harry moved behind him and smoothed his hands over his shoulders and slid them down the front until his hands rested flat against Severus' chest. He closed his eyes, feeling his sleep-warmth, relishing the play of muscles under his hands and the way Severus' head fell back against his ribs. He raised a hand to lightly stroke the exposed throat with the tips of his fingers and felt him swallow. "Hmmm--Good--Feels so good." Severus took his hand, laid his cheek against the palm, and then kissed it.

"Come Sev, time for bed," Harry said gently. Severus pulled his head away reluctantly and pushed the chair back, standing a little awkwardly while blood flowed to his legs. He weaved a moment, disoriented. As Harry led him unresisting to their room, he noticed the title to the book "Answers for the Discriminating Male" and felt his heart sink down to his feet. 'What on earth? Is this one of those do-it-yourself books on picking up new partners?' He almost faltered but could hear Dumbledore in his head, 'The only thing he's prowling is the back hallways.' He shook the heavy fear away. 'Merlin, I hope he's right.'

Maneuvering him slowly into their bed chamber, Harry finally got Severus over to the side of the bed; he was swaying, starting to fall back asleep where he sat. Harry decided to dispense with the niceties and, uttering a spell, he disrobed him down to his boxers. He hesitated and, continuing the spell, he removed them as well. He steadied Severus by the shoulder from falling over and got him to stand long enough to spell the pyjama bottoms on him. One glimpse at the jutting hipbones and articulated ribs had been enough to confirm what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. His lover was starving. And maybe not just for food.

'There is no time to regret the past. I feel an urgency now to start making it right.' A small push was all it took to get Severus into the bed fast asleep on his side, facing the outside of the bed. That it was actually Harry's side of the bed lost its importance for the moment in that he was just glad to have got him there in the first place. He quickly divested his own clothing and put on pyjama bottoms with distaste. 'I hate wearing clothes to bed, although Severus used to also, so maybe this is another new thing I never noticed.'

Harry climbed in and rather than try and wrestle Severus over, he curled around him, his head resting against his back, his arm thrown possessively over his waist. Severus mumbled in his sleep and partially woke. "Mmmm, Harry?"

"Yes, Sev, it's me." He held his breath.

"Mmph. What time is it?" His hand covered Harry's, stroking it absently.

"Just a little past eleven. You fell asleep at your desk," he chuckled.

"Ah, good reason I don't remember getting here." He rolled over, facing him. "So tired. Did I take the potion?"

"No, I don't think so. The seal was still on the bottle." Severus' arm arched over his head and Harry gratefully slid into his hollow.

Severus tightened his arms around him, nuzzling his forehead, rubbing his cheek against his hair. "Mmmm. Nice. You always feel good. Hate taking the potion. Gives me a headache in the morning."

"It's good to be home," Harry said simply, snuggling in and moving his legs to tangle with Severus'.

Harry felt the kiss on the top of his head, as Severus murmured half-asleep, the words slurring, "Mmph, you planning on staying a while?"

'My whole life, if you'll have me,' he thought, but said, "Yes, Sev. I'm home for a while." His fingers were combing through the hairs on Severus' chest.

Severus tightened his arms around Harry and then loosened them slightly but did not release him. "At least until morning?" he asked, sleepily aware of Harry's touch, but too exhausted to do anything about it.

Harry thought his heart would break at the almost plaintive note in his lover's voice. "For as long as you'll have me."

"That long? Just 'til the morning will be fine--for now," he half mumbled as he fell back into his slumber, quite content.

"I can do that," Harry said to the sleeping man. Kissing the warm skin near his mouth, he whispered, "I love you, Sev." Hearing Severus' deep sigh, he relaxed and followed him into sleep.