Disclaimer: We are the Harry Potter fic called "Not Myself". Resistance as you know it is over. We will add your reviews and flames to the bucket in the corner.  You will be sucked in. Resistance is futile.

Disclaimer for Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  Nor the Borg.  Other people own them.

Author's Notes

Saerry: Yes, Harry's Gryff side is definitely going to get him killed.  Or seriously injured…

Atra: And what's wrong with a few injuries?

Saerwy: You want me to injure YOU?

Atra: O_O  Meep.

Saerry: And I'm sorry if I made it sound like Harry was dead…  HE'S NOT, I SWEAR!

Atra: So you say…

All: ATRA!

Atra: Okay, okay…shutting up now.

Not Myself by Saerry Snape

Chapter 139 – Of Confessions and…well, More Confessions

"No, damnit!" screamed Niamh, eyes clenched shut.  "Its not supposed to be this way!  ITS SUPPOSED TO BE ME, NOT HIM!  NOT HIM!"

Severus cast her a pained look from underneath his hair as he lifted his head from where it had rested in his cupped palms.  It had been nearly two hours since Harry had taken the Gauntlet from Niamh and she had been screaming for every second of it.

Her voice hadn't dimmed in volume yet.

Ginny and Hermione were sobbing in a corner with Mika sitting near them, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.  A white-faced Ron paced nervously near the bed where Amanda and Neville sat.  Amanda's hands were clenched tight on Neville's as she cried.

"Niamh," choked Severus after a moment.  It came out as a bare whisper and he coughed before trying again.  "Niamh."

The girl opened red-rimmed blue eyes that glittered with tears to look at him.

"Professor…"

He turned slightly towards where she was seated, stretching one arm out towards her.  A moment later she was across the room with her arms flung about his neck, sobbing wildly into his shoulder.  He hugged her close and whispered, "It will be alright, child."

Niamh sniffed and mumbled, "Don't lie to me, sir.  Please."

Severus closed his eyes and sighed.

"If I don't lie to you, child, I can't lie to myself…"

Tears welled in Niamh's eyes again and she let out a fresh sob.  Severus gently rubbed her back then looked up as the door to one of the private rooms opened.  Madam Pomfrey stepped out and her eyes met his.

"He's recovering," she said softly.  "But for how long he can recover with that…that thing on his arm…"  She shook her head in disgust and spat, "He has too much of his mother in him for his own good."

Severus' thin lips twitched in a smile and he nodded, saying, "Indeed he does, Poppy.  May we…"

"See him?  Go on."  Her taut expression softened as she said in a bare whisper, "Go see your son, Severus."

The black eyes widened then relaxed as he realized that the mediwitch had probably known who Harry was for years.  She'd known him long enough to be able to see him in the sixteen-year-old.

Severus rose ungainly to his feet, steadying Niamh against him.  She entwined her hands in the fabric of his cloak and buried her face in the fabric of the loose shirt he wore underneath it.  He placed one arm loosely around her and steered her towards the door of the room where she'd been in solitude since the Gauntlet had taken her.

Harry lay propped up on that selfsame bed, his face ashen.  Pink tinged the tops of his cheeks and wisps of dark hair cascaded over his forehead and shoulders – he'd used a potion to grow his hair out to the length it had been on the streets.  And he'd proclaimed he wanted to keep it that way.

"Niamh," whispered Severus as Madam Pomfrey eased the door shut behind them.  The sobs of her friends were cut off abruptly and Niamh turned her tear-streaked face towards her best friend.

Dark lashes fluttered and emerald eyes winked open, their depths dark and opaque.

"Ni," breathed Harry.

The girl sucked in a breathe then launched herself across the room with a shriek of "Harry!"  She hurled her body onto his, wrapping her arms about his lean torso as she buried her face in the cascade of dark hair.

"Idiot, idiot," she half mumbled, half shrieked.  "How could you?  HOW COULD YOU!"

"Ah'm sorry," whispered Harry, closing his eyes as he leaned his cheek against her hair.

Niamh pushed herself away from him and glared accusingly at him, the tears in her eyes making them shine like cold sapphire's.

"Why?" she hissed.  "Why?"

Harry lifted his left hand from underneath the blanket that covered him and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.  His long fingers traced the lined of her jaw before his cool palm cupped her cheek.  Sapphire stared into emerald and Niamh gasped at the intensity of the emotions she felt coming off of her friend.

"Ah love you," he whispered hoarsely.  His hand then slid to the back of her neck and he jerked her close, burying his face in the hollow space between her neck and shoulder.  Niamh shivered as the cold steel of the Gauntlet touched her shoulder as Harry wrapped his arms around her.

"Harry," she breathed, voice quavering.  Fear must have showed in her eyes because he pulled back and his grip on her loosened.

"Ah'm sorry," he whispered.  "But…Ah could'n let ye die."

Niamh frowned and grabbed his face in her hands, nearly screaming, "I don't want you dead either, damnit!  I don't want to be standing over your grave come summer!"

"Ye won't," hissed Harry, closing his hands over her wrists.  The clawed fingers of the Gauntlet dug into her flesh and the skin of her right arm prickled, the hairs on it rising straight up.  Her eyes were drawn to it and she saw dark, swirling designs starting to form on it.

A second later she was jerked off the bed, the Gauntlet's claws tearing at her left arm.  She cried out in pain then found herself pulled hard against Severus, his fingers gripping her thin shoulders.  His long fingers touched her right arm, running over the designs that were now disappearing.

"Dark runes," he murmured.  He looked over at his son and continued, "The marks of the Gauntlet.  The runes for hate, revenge, murder, chaos, destruction, and disorder.  Each engraved upon the Gauntlet's surface and put into its make-up.  Do you realize what you've done, Harry.  You've mixed the powers of the Tethdaìr with those of the Gauntlet of Aerilsed!"

"What are the Tethdaìr?" asked Niamh, her hand clenched over the bleeding holes in her wrist.

"Warrior Elves," replied Severus, drawing his wand.  He moved her hand and tapped the tears made by the Gauntlet with his wand, causing them to slowly close up.  Tucking his wand back up his sleeve, he pulled up the end of his cloak and tore an inch wide strip from the bottom.  He wound it carefully about Niamh's arm after cleaning the blood away with a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Leave that on.  And don't let Poppy see it."

"Yes, sir.  But…what are these warrior Elves?  And what do they have to do with Harry?"

"Ah'm one o' them," said Harry softly.  "Da…"

"I know," said Severus.  "I know why.  If…if I had had to make this same choice, if your mother had been the one the Gauntlet had taken, I'd have done the very same thing."

Harry nodded and looked at Niamh with a sad expression.

"Ah'm sorry," he whispered again.

Niamh took a tentative step towards him then stopped, looking back at Severus.  When he motioned her on, she moved to sit on the side of the bed.  Her hand reached out for Harry's closest, which was the one that the Gauntlet covered.  He tried to pull it away but she grasped it tight, the cold steel enveloping her much smaller hand.

"I'd take it back if I could," she whispered, rubbing her thumb along the runes inscribed on the surface of the Gauntlet.  "I don't want you to die."

"Ah'm na going to die," insisted Harry.  "Ah'm na."

"Of course, you won't," said Severus.  "There's no way in hell that I'm letting that thing take you."

Harry smiled at his father and said, "An' Ah doan intend to let i' take me."  He turned towards Niamh, continuing, "Ah'm na going anywhere."

"You'd better not," hissed the girl, eyes bright.  "If you do, I swear I'll bring you back from the dead and kill you myself."

Severus laughed at that and said, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Harry gave his father an amused look.

"Yer tellin' me."

Author's Note 2

Saerry: MEL!

Mel: What?  *looks around innocently*

Saerry: *glare*

Mel: Its just a little romance!  COME ON!

Saerry: Alright, alright…but let's not turn this into a romance novel, please.

Bryv: As if we'd allow that.

Atra: You're the one who keeps giving Harry a hero complex!

Saerwy: And here I thought that was you…

Saerry: *sigh*  MOVING ON!