Title: "Return" or "Watching Him Go"
Author: tangledhair
Rating: R
Pairing: HP/SS
Disclaimer: JK Rowling created and owns the characters. No money is being made from this story. This story is a fan-fiction of a fan-fiction, based on Yih's Paradox Trilogy, "The Mirror of Paradox," "The Extent of Being," and "The Paradox of Existence." Go read them, they are excellent. Yih has given her permission for the following story to exist.
Feedback: katlyndeviid
Beta: Whitewolf CS
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at
http:www. kardasi. com/ HPSS/ storyindex. htm
Challenge: 1. All stories/art must be set post-Hogwarts (Harry must no longer be a student through successful completion of his education). 2. All stories/art must be set post-War (Harry may have won, or lost). 3. All stories/art must have a rating of R or NC-17.
Flashbacks to the alternate universe are in Italics.
X
XIX
XIXIX
It was March 3rd when Severus Snape returned to his quarters to find a naked and bloodied Harry Potter unconscious on his floor. The mixed feelings and multitudes of questions, stirred by the seeming resurrection from the dead of this war casualty, were quickly swept aside when Snape realized that without immediate medical attention, the young man would not survive whatever magic it was that had deposited him in Snape's bedroom. The Potions Master transported him to the infirmary, leaving him in a shocked Poppy Pomfrey's able care before taking his leave without so much as a word of explanation.
Severus Snape may have hated the boy, but that was not to say that he was entirely displeased to have found him alive. Too many had died during the war, and any decrease in the number of casualties was a welcome phenomenon. But more than anything else, Snape was curious about The Golden Boy's disappearance, and subsequent return. Though judging by the shape he had found the boy in, it would be a while before Snape got the answers he desired. He stalked back to his room to clean up Potter's blood and finish grading essays, pushing his thoughts aside. He would have plenty of time to ask questions once Potter awoke.
XIXIX
It takes time to recover, a lot of it, especially when suffering the physical and magical injuries that a certain Harry Potter was. And so it was that after a week of healing, Harry was only just beginning to awaken. His mind was swirling just underneath consciousness, trying desperately to rouse so that he could understand the murmur of voices around him. It was an unintelligible jumble, and Harry couldn't make any sense of it. But then he heard that deep, rolling bass and Harry knew Severus was there, beside him. He sighed internally, not knowing if he was disappointed or relieved that he had failed to return to his home world.
Harry again tried unsuccessfully to open his eyes. There were only two voices currently—of that he was certain.
"He's been out for a week," said a female voice that Harry wanted to recognize, but couldn't.
"Is he going to wake up?" That was Severus, stern as always, but Harry knew he would have been able to see concern on his face, if only he could open his eyes to look at him.
"I honestly don't know," replied the female voice.
Harry struggled to speak, and the voices fell silent. He sensed the two bodies drawing near.
"Sev…" he groaned quietly, wondering why Severus wasn't holding his hand. Something was wrong, Harry realized as he briefly moved toward consciousness. "Sev, I can't feel you."
The effort of speaking had drained him. He slipped away once again.
XIXIX
Harry landed painfully, and found himself quite unable to breathe. For an endless few seconds, he thought he might be dead, but then a gasp of air rushed into his lungs and he knew that was not the case. He also realized that he had broken several ribs during the fall, or more precisely, when he landed. Inhaling hurt. But it had to be done.
He opened his eyes immediately to determine the nearest source of danger to deflect, but he found himself alone in a small clearing. What had happened to the battle around him? Where was he?
He made to stand, grinding his teeth against the pain that surged through his body. This was not a magical pain from the curse that had hit him. This was completely natural, and achingly physical—broken bones, torn muscle, open wounds. His head was throbbing. He must have hit it hard. One of the lenses was missing from his glasses, but it didn't matter much since that eye was swollen shut.
Harry raised his wand, and started walking. He willed his unsteady legs to work. Pain was clouding his vision, painting the world about him in a haze. He was near the school. He could feel the magic radiating from it. Its wards must have been strengthened dramatically against the attack. Dumbledore surely wouldn't survive this.
When he stumbled out of the Forbidden Forest, Harry again questioned what the bloody hell had happened to him. The battle was gone. There were no physical or magical traces that there had even been a battle—except perhaps the conspicuous absence of Hagrid's cabin. There were students outside enjoying the beautiful day. Harry recognized some of them, but others he didn't. Wand still out, he raised his other hand to his head to stop the spinning, but it resolutely continued.
The students slowly began to pause what they were doing to turn and stare at him, curious and wary about his sudden appearance. A few of them removed their wands whilst others took off running into the castle, only to appear several moments later following a furious Severus Snape.
He stormed toward Harry, robes billowing out around him, and it wasn't until he was nearly in spell-casting range that Harry realized that this was not the SeverusSnape he had known for the last seven years. He was far more striking and he wore his age without the cynical weariness of the Death Eater Spy for the Order of the Phoenix. And, his wand was raised in attack.
Only just in time Harry cast a shield around himself, blocking Snape's curse, and a duel between the two men had begun in earnest. Harry had bested Snape several times during his training, but his whole body was in pain and refused to respond easily to his commands, and his magic was too weary after the battle… after the unfortunate duel with Voldemort.
Harry held his own for a while, but Snape soon got the better of him, and Harry fell again.
XIXIX
Harry paced in his rooms. Headmistress McGonagall had placed him in some of Hogwarts' finest living quarters. In fact, she had taken care of all of his immediate needs. But still Harry paced, because there was so much more that he wanted—things he knew he would never, ever get.
He had received a hero's welcome upon his return, but he was anything but. The papers were splashed with the extraordinary story of Harry's return from an alternate universe, where he had received a Masters in Defense Against the Dark Arts from none other than Severus Snape. The papers talked of his brilliant war history, conspicuously (to Harry, at least) failing to mention how Harry had faltered in his last duel against Voldemort.
He had not fulfilled the prophecy after all. It had been more of a surprise to Voldemort than anyone else that, after having haunted Harry Potter his entire life, Neville Longbottom would be the one to kill him—and mere minutes after Voldemort had claimed victory over the fallen Potter.
Neville was going to be elected the next Minister of Magic, and everyone knew it. He had already visited Harry, and the two had talked long into the night about everything that had passed since the Final Battle of the Voldemort Wars, when Harry Potter disappeared and Neville Longbottom destroyed Voldemort once and for all.
Voldemort.
His name was thrown about now. Nobody feared it any longer. Not after he was toppled by quite possibly the single most unlikely person on Earth to do so.
Neville was greatly revered.
And, until one month past, Harry had been greatly mourned.
But now it was Harry's turn to mourn. He had returned to this world thinking he could return to his life. He always figured Voldemort had been out there, terrorizing his world, unstoppable without Harry there to finish him. Harry had been anxious to get back to his friends and his adoptive family members. Sure, he had worried from time to time that some might not have made it, but he hadn't truly expected this.
Of the entire Weasley clan, only Charlie and Arthur survived. Hermione was dead. Fleur Delacour was dead, and Viktor Krum. The Patil twins, Lavender, Luna, Dean—all dead. Half of his year was gone, and more than half of the DA. Seamus was alive, but had been driven insane by the Cruciatus Curse.
Dumbledore hadn't made it either. Holding the wards had drained him of all his power. He died within a day of Voldemort's defeat. Harry remembered thinking that would happen when he felt the wards around the other Hogwarts, thinking that Dumbledore wouldn't last. But he had discounted that notion when he realized he was in another world and that those amazingly strong wards were, in all actuality, held by four different witches and wizards at once, due to the constant threat of attack.
Harry continued to pace. After so many years and so much desperate longing to return home, he surely hadn't expected this.
He didn't belong here anymore. This was no longer his world.
XIXIX
"Ah, Mr. Potter," said Snape disdainfully as he opened the door to his private potions laboratory. "What can I do for you?"
Harry shuffled his feet. "Um, nothing really," he stammered, trying to remember how he had phrased this conversation in his head before he had decided to come down. He had come up with a plausible reason to venture into the dungeons. But now he couldn't remember exactly what that reason had been. His nerves took over he blurted out the first thing that came to his head, "I just wanted some familiar company."
Oh Merlin, had he really just said that? Well at least he hadn't blatantly stated how terribly lonely he had been since his return. He looked up and Snape was studying him with a detached air Harry hadn't seen in years. This was a bad idea. He was about to offer to leave when Snape nodded, inviting him in.
Harry followed him to his workstation and propped himself on a stool in the corner, looking around. This room was almost exactly the same as it had been at the other Hogwarts. Snape had the same equipment as his other self, the same potions ingredients—all arranged in the same way.
"Do you need any help?" asked Harry casually.
"From you?" Snape turned his suspicious and disapproving eyes on the young man intruding into his personal laboratory.
Harry shrugged. "I'm actually pretty good, you know."
Snape cut him another look as if to say, 'I doubt that,' but he remained silent.
"No, really," babbled Harry with nervous friendliness. "You still did potions there, even though you were the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Kind of like a hobby, but I guess more of an obsession. So I did a lot of potions with you while I was apprenticing."
Still staring at his brew, Snape asked with dripping sarcasm, "You…did… a lot of potions with me?"
Harry rolled his eyes, exasperation growing. "Brewed, concocted, prepared… whatever terminology you prefer."
"Hmm."
Snape continued working without another word, which Harry took to mean he had declined his offer of help. This was far more difficult than he thought it would be. He had forgotten how much this Snape hated him. He probably would have let it go, but Snape really was the only living person left on this world that Harry felt at all close to anymore.
He watched as Snape added 10 grams of dried eel tail and 20 grams of jellyfish. Harry knew that potion. It wasn't in any textbook because it was one of Snape's personal brews. Harry laughed.
"Oh, you're making that glow-in-the-dark ink!"
Snape snapped his head up, his angry eyes widening slightly.
"I guess you really don't need my help," continued Harry. "It's a simple enough brew."
Snape glowered at him. "What do you know of this ink?" he shot.
"You like writing at night," began Harry conversationally. "So you invented this ink because you don't like using lamps late because…" he trailed off, realizing that this Snape would probably not be comfortable with Harry knowing such personal information. "Because it hurts your eyes," he finished lamely. Even as he said it, though, he knew that Snape would know he was lying, that Harry really did know the truth. Snape's father had beaten out of him the desire to use lamps late at night.
Harry looked away. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have come down here." He got up to leave.
"Mr. Potter!" Snape's voice brought him to an abrupt halt, but Harry continued to face the door. "How did you come to be my apprentice?" he asked harshly, like he wouldn't believe any answer he was given, but wanted to hear one regardless.
"I already told you," Harry said. "The students told you someone was attacking the school, so you engaged me in a duel."
"And I bested you," he stated.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't I kill you?" asked Snape slowly.
'Aha,' thought Harry. 'The real question.'
"You were impressed by my power," he said. "You wanted to hone my skill. So you kept me alive under tight security until you could determine who I was."
"And did I determine who you were?"
"No. Not until right before I left. Then I told you the truth."
"Why then?"
"Because I needed you to help me get back here." Harry was still facing away. He knew he would give away far too much if he turned around now.
"Is that the real reason you came down here today?"
Harry was silent. He wasn't entirely sure what Snape was asking of him. Was he asking if Harry wanted his help to return to the other universe? Because Harry did, although he knew he would never get it. Did Snape know by what means Harry had managed to get back? Did he even suspect?
"Professor," said Harry carefully, staring at a spot on the floor about a foot from the doorway, "You had no reason to hate me there." He paused, trying to figure out where to go from there. Then, very slowly, he repeated what he had said several minutes earlier, "I just wanted some familiar company."
Not waiting for a response, he took his leave.
XIXIX
"Mr.Evans! You are NOT paying attention!" snapped Snape as Harry once again pulled himself from the floor on the opposite side of the room.
"Sorry, sir," replied Harry. "I'm tired."
Snape lowered his wand. "I'm not surprised," he said, and Harry focused very hard on not glaring at him. Snape had loaned out his new apprentice to five separate professors today.
Harry had begun work at 5:00am, hauling new crystal balls for Trelawney, had then repotted several dozen surprisingly strong, and very horny, teenage mandrakes for Sprout, transfigured nearly a hundred hairy teacups back into rodents for McGonagall, shoveled seeming tons of manure for Dr. Monroe, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, and then hand-coordinated every single telescope in the Astronomy Tower to focus on the dog star for Sirius Black's Greater Cosmological Events class.
Snape had allowed Harry to eat breakfast at 4:30am and a piece of bread for lunch at noon, but it was 10:00pm now and Harry had yet to eat dinner. He was tired, and sore, and famished.
"Perhaps you would like a rest," began Snape unexpectedly.
Harry nodded slowly, suspicious of this uncharacteristic show of sympathy.
"Perhaps I should have offered you a rest before I attacked you by the forest. You did seem rather the worse for wear."
Harry narrowed his eyes, catching the professor's meaning. Battle could happen anytime. One should not simply train to fight when one was well fed and rested. He raised his wand.
Snape nodded, dropping the fake sympathy from his face. He raised his wand as well, and even though Harry was prepared, he found himself blasted once again across the room.
But as he flew backwards, before he hit the wall, he cast a tripping spell on Snape, who stumbled unceremoniously, dropping his wand.
"Accio wand," Harry moaned from the floor, and Snape's wand slid across to him.
Snape stood. "Congratulations," he said, walking toward where Harry lay.
"PetrificusTotalus," muttered Harry. Snape's arms snapped to his sides and he stood with rigid attention.
"Mr.Evans! What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing!" he shouted.
Harry pulled himself to a sitting position and leaned lazily against the wall. He stared up at the frozen figure towering above him. "Incapacitating you, Professor," he said simply. "I have your wand, but I feel like hell. So you would still have the upper hand if you came near enough to grab it back."
Snape smiled his approval. "Lesson adjourned. You need dinner."
XIXIX
Harry had been back for just under six months when Headmistress McGonagall offered him the DADA professorship. Harry wasn't sure that he wanted it, but he really didn't know what else to do, so he accepted anyway. After all, in the whole of his life, even in two separate universes, Hogwarts was the only home he had ever had.
But Harry couldn't help wondering why anyone would want him as a DADA professor when he had so publicly failed in the biggest duel of his life. He couldn't understand how everyone was so willing to overlook that. He supposed that if Voldemort hadn't banished him to an alternate universe that he would be looked upon very differently. If he had woken up in the infirmary the next morning in his Hogwarts, perhaps people would see him as the living failure that he was. But for so long he had been the 'fallen hero' that it seemed people were just happy he was no longer fallen. No one bothered to realize that the 'hero' part was wrong too.
School started back in three days, but Harry wasn't preparing himself for classes. He was in the Potions classroom instead, brewing Pain Draughts with the school supplies. He had asked Snape's blanket permission to use the classroom for such purposes when it wasn't in use. After returning home, Harry had realized that brewing had officially become a hobby of his after so many years under Snape's tutelage. It helped him relax. But he didn't want to bother Snape anymore in his far superior private lab.
"Poppy has plenty of Pain Draughts in her stores. You need only ask her for one."
Harry didn't look up. It was hard looking at Snape nowadays. "I know a special recipe," he said, "Specific to stress headaches." He needn't mention it was Snape's other self who had taught him this recipe. Snape would realize as much.
"In that case, you've just added too much dandelion root," said Snape, peering over the table at the contents of the cauldron.
"No," said Harry. "I added too much doe's blood earlier. I had to counteract it with the extra dandelion."
"Did you alter your stirring pattern accordingly?"
"I did."
They stood in silence for a few minutes. Harry wondered now and then if it was a comfortable silence or an awkward one. He really couldn't tell.
Presently, Snape asked, "Who was the Potions professor there?"
Harry's lips quirked into a smile.
"You're not going to like it," he said, glancing briefly at Snape's perpetually glaring face.
"I think I can handle it," he said.
Harry sighed and laid down the stirring rod.
"There were two," he said. "They were hired just after I arrived, for the following term."
"The classes were split, then?" mused Snape. "I've always thought they should be."
"No, the classes weren't split. It was Fred and George Weasley. They taught together."
Snape's eyes were fixed on Harry as though he were waiting for the punch line. After half a minute of silence, Harry said, "I told you, you weren't going to like it."
"I allowed that to happen?" said Snape flatly.
Harry shrugged slightly. "You tried to stop it. Dumbledore wouldn't give you the position since there was no better Defense professor to be had. But you said that 'no Potions professor at all was better than having those clowns ruining the minds of students'." Harry had sunk his voice in a vague imitation of Snape's own. Snape did not look amused.
"Anyway," Harry continued, "They were actually really good. Even you laid off of them after awhile."
"Hmm."
Harry went back to brewing.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry flinched despite himself.
Snape was studying him again and asked, "What?"
Harry shook his head, not looking up. "It's nothing."
"I doubt that," replied Snape, and waited for an explanation.
"It's just… weird… hearing you call me Mr. Potter. For the past five years, I've been 'Mr. Evans', or even 'Harry', but… I don't know. It's nothing."
"Hmm. What are your plans regarding brewing once the semester begins?" asked Snape, thankfully changing the subject.
Harry had thought about it, although he had been putting it off. The classroom would be busy at all hours of the day and evening. The only time it would be unoccupied would be late at night, which was not the best time for Harry to work on his hobby.
"I'm going to set up my own lab," he said.
"It will take a lot of energy, time, and money to set up a suitable lab for someone of your skill."
Harry didn't look up. He knew Snape had been monitoring him to determine if he really was a good as he claimed.
"You may use my private laboratory if you stay out of my way, and if you assist me in maintaining it. I assume that if you apprenticed under me for five years you know the order I require in my lab."
"I do," said Harry. "But…"
"But what?" Snape asked sharply.
'You don't have to do this,' thought Harry, but he just said, "Thank you."
XIXIX
Severus slammed into the room, radiating anger. It could mean only one thing—the Weasley twins had pranked him again. Harry knew that much without having to look up, which was good because he was at a very critical point in his meditation. He had almost lost the shield around him with the Professor's sudden entrance, but had just managed to maintain it.
The shield was still in its developmental stages. It was very complex and complicated, and its practical use was limited, but Harry wanted to master it nonetheless. Given fifteen minutes time to meditate, he now knew he could create this shield, which could supposedly deflect almost any curse, up to and including Imperio and Crucio, although not Avada Kedavra. There was nothing to protect from that, at least, nothing that could be conjured oneself.
Harry could—theoretically—maintain this shield for days without eating, drinking, or resting. So if he ever found himself a captive of dark wizards bent on torturing him, he could protect himself without a wand. And a few days just might be time enough to be rescued.
Severus was cursing, and he only cursed more when he saw what Harry was doing. Deciding he may as well use his bad mood to test Harry's focusing skills, he yelled, threw Harry's things, and cast curses repeatedly against the faint yellow bubble that surrounded his apprentice.
Having gotten it out of his system, Severus sat down roughly at his desk and began grading essays. Presently, Harry was standing at his side.
"That's a remarkable shield," said Severus without pausing his task.
"It needs more testing," said Harry. "We need to go someplace warded so we can try the Unforgivables on it without legal recourse."
"Try Durmstang," muttered Severus dryly.
"Funny. What did the twins do to you?"
"Slipped something in my food which filled me with the overwhelming desire to sing love songs whenever I deducted House points."
Harry was careful not to laugh. But Severus looked in his eye and knew he was holding it in. It only made him angrier.
"They should run a joke shop or a circus," he spat disdainfully. "They should turn their frivolous pursuits toward something unimportant—like entertaining those wretched mudbloods. Those two should not be professors of a delicate science at such a prestigious school!"
Harry stepped away. "I'll clean this up," he said neutrally.
Severus went back to grading papers for a moment, but then looked up suddenly.
"Harry—I..."
Harry shook his head and continued to tidy up the office. The Defense Master had left quite a mess while testing Harry's concentration and the sturdiness of his shield.
"Harry."
Sev's hand was heavy on his shoulder, turning him around to look at him. Harry kept his features emotionless because he knew that in this world there was no reason for anyone pureblooded to detest the word 'mudblood'. Harry had never said that he did, but somehow Severus knew, and he normally monitored his language accordingly in Harry's presence. Severus respected him enough to do so even though Harry respected him enough never to ask.
The world here was so different from his own, in relation to purebloods and muggleborns. In his home world, people would sometimes argue that muggleborns should be separated, but in this world they were. Totally and completely. Salazar Slytherin had been far more influential with his ideas on the topic, and the wizarding world had evolved along a separate path.
Here, Voldemort had never risen to power, because as a half-blood he had been trained at some second-rate school. Harry had looked up TomRiddle over a year ago. Slytherin's heir was a store clerk just outside of London. James Potter, pureblood, had never met Lily Evans, muggleborn. James had married a lovely pureblood witch who vaguely resembled Lily, and their oldest son Sirius had graduated from Hogwarts the year Harry arrived in this world. Lily had married a muggle doctor. Harry had never had a chance to go see here, but he liked to imagine that she was happy in the muggle world. At least she was alive.
The students around Hogwarts that Harry recognized were all from the old bloodlines, and there were many here that didn't exist in his home world, such as the half-brothers and sisters he would never be able to claim. Madam Pomfrey didn't exist here. Hermione hadn't made it into Hogwarts. Harry wondered where her talents were being wasted.
It was a shame, he thought. And that was a worldview that he had to keep quiet if he were to successfully hide that his origin was on another world, in another universe. Severus didn't know why it bothered Harry so much, but he had figured out that it did. He catered to Harry in many ways—his typical refusal to use the word 'mudblood' was only one example. He said nothing about the many mistakes Harry had made over the past two years in holding to the story of his identity.
Harry had told him that he had been privately tutored before he was orphaned by a roving band of dark wizards. From the beginning, Harry knew Snape had disbelieved that story. Harry was too good at Occlumency not to be lying about everything he shielded Snape from seeing with Legilimency. But luckily for Harry, the use of Veritaserum on purebloods was strictly forbidden in this world. So the details were lost, but there were other ways of testing a wizard's character, and Harry had passed every single one, including the scrutiny of a phoenix.
Now, in the lab, they were standing close and Severus was looking into his eyes. Harry felt a nudge against his Occlumency shields once again. And once again, he carefully protected the life of HarryPotter, leaving bared only the personality and character of HarryEvansSeverus touched Harry's face with his fingertips.
"Harry, someday I expect you to stop hiding from me."
Harry nodded, his eyes locked on Sev's.
Severus leaned in a little. "Fawkes trusts you, so I know that I can as well, but someday…"
Harry nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. They were so close…
They jerked apart suddenly as an alarm tore through the school.
"Bugger it all to hell!" yelled Severus as he jumped toward the door. "Durmstang is attacking."
Harry followed him out of the dungeons and toward the Great Hall, where Dumbledore was barking orders to the school. Europe's three best pureblooded schools had been fighting for dominance over each other for quite some time. Of the three, Beauxbaton was known to be the strongest on defense, Hogwarts was known to be the strongest on offense, and Durmstang was known to be the strongest on strategy. It was a dark school, and they played dirty.
As bizarre as it all seemed to Harry, he had learned to take these attacks seriously.
The main defensive unit, led by Severus and Harry, made its way to the location of attack in the Forbidden Forest. By the time they reached the area, the attackers were gone. It was some hours before anyone realized what had happened, but eventually the Centaurs came forth with the knowledge that two unicorns had been abducted.
Dumbledore instructed Severus and Harry to infiltrate Durmstang and retrieve them. After preparing for three days, they were ready to go.
XIXIX
At some point after Harry had fallen asleep on the night before their departure, Severus came to his room. As soon as the door cracked open, Harry was on his feet, his wand at ready.
"Sev," he said when he was sure who it was, "I realize I should be prepared for attack at any point, but don't you think it would be a good idea to be rested in the morning?"
Sev stepped into the room, his hands at his side. Harry kept his wand raised, but Severus walked gently toward him regardless. He stepped around Harry's outstretched arm so that they were standing face to face. Harry swallowed hard.
"Lower your wand," said Severus softly.
Harry complied.
"Harry, when I first accepted you as my apprentice two years ago I quickly came to understand that for some reason you either did not know or did not accept all of the terms of the arrangement."
Harry nodded, remembering the first time Snape had come to his room at night. His shocked reaction to the common tradition had been a very obvious indicator that Harry had not been raised in the way he claimed. But Snape had said nothing of it, and had not returned to his room for that purpose again.
"I wanted you as my apprentice," he continued, "So I did not push the matter, nor did I question you about it. Someday I expect you to tell me without my asking, because I won't. But tonight what I want to know is—"
That sentence could have ended any one of a million different ways, but Harry knew two things. If it ended with 'Are you ready?' –he was. If it ended with any other question about himself, he more than likely did not want to answer it. So Harry stopped Sev from speaking the best way he knew how. He pressed himself forward.
Severus accepted that answer, wrapping himself around Harry and pushing him back onto his bed. Harry felt as though a burning fire had ignited within him, and he let himself be consumed.
Sev's hands were removing Harry's bedclothes, were removing his own, were exploring Harry's body with detailed precision. The two men were kissing and sucking and biting and licking, tasting each other, marking each other.
"Turn over," said Sev smoothly, and Harry complied. Severus spread Harry's legs wide, and pressed his back flat with the palm of his hand.
Harry was dripping with desire. The want he felt was almost painful. Then he heard a muttered spell and he was hot and slick and Severus was buried inside him to the hilt and Harry cried out for mercy, cried out for more.
Severus grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head back, arching Harry's back sharply, and a stab of pure pleasure drove itself straight to Harry's chest, which was sure to explode with all the hammering his heart was doing.
"Do you love me, Harry?" demanded Severus as he slammed into him again.
"Yes. Oh, yes!"
"You don't have to," growled Severus, somewhere near Harry's ear. His body was hot on Harry's back. "Tell me the truth. Do you love me?"
"I do. I… I love you."
Severus let himself go, fucking Harry with reckless abandon. Harry came with a wild cry, "Oh, Sev…Sev… I love you."
It was too much for Severus. His orgasm took him and he collapsed on Harry's limp body, murmuring into his ear, "I love you too, Harry."
XIXIX
It was Wednesday, the first of March, when Harry went to Snape and asked if the Potions Master had plans to use his personal laboratory on Friday evening.
"Not in particular," Snape responded. "Might I ask why?" he asked in a voice that clearly indicated he expected to know.
"I'd like to brew in private," said Harry noncommittally. "If you need the lab, I will wait until the classroom is free. I can work in there just as well."
"The seventh years are practicing for their NEWT'S on Friday," said Snape. "It will be very late before they are finished."
Harry was about to say he wouldn't mind waiting when Snape continued, "You may use the lab."
"Thank you, Professor," he said calmly, knowing full well that Snape was intensely curious about his project, but also knowing that Snape would not disturb him regardless of not having specifically stated as much.
He was therefore quite surprised when Snape did enter his personal laboratory Friday evening.
When the door opened, Harry flinched bodily, having been caught brewing something so intensely personal. His arm jerked mid-stroke.
"Bugger!" he hissed as he tried to re-regulate the rotation of the liquid in the cauldron. It took several moments of carefully intent stirring to correct his mistake. Only then did he turn his tear-stained face to Snape.
Snape's eyes were narrowed, but he seemed to be frozen in shock as he looked at the image before him. Harry was dressed in comfortable work robes, fitted nicely, but his hair was messier than ever. And beyond that, he had very clearly been sobbing his heart out into the potion before him. Snape scanned the ingredients out on the counter, and a flush rose to his cheeks. For a moment, Harry thought Snape was embarrassed, but then he began to yell.
"What in bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter!"
Harry turned back to his potion without answering. Snape knew what he was doing. A better question was, "What are you doing here? You said I could work in private."
Snape was silent for a moment, which Harry knew meant that his arrival had truly been an accident. Had he entered with the purpose of discovering Harry's secret, he would now be yelling about how he knew he couldn't trust Harry to work alone.
"Just go," whispered Harry. "Let me finish."
"No. That brew is entirely too dangerous."
"You know my skill. You know I can do it."
"Mr. Potter…"
Harry flinched and more tears fell into the cauldron.
Snape took a deep breath. "Mr. Evans." Harry closed his eyes at the sound of those words, but continued to stir carefully. "You took on a lover while you were in the other universe."
It was a statement and not a question. Harry saw no reason to deny it. He nodded.
"Were you bonded?" asked Snape. There was no malice in his voice now.
Again, Harry nodded. "It's our anniversary." His eyes were still closed so he did not see Snape close his.
"You returned home one year ago today," said Snape slowly, sighing deeply as he understood the implications. "This is why you haven't asked me to help you return to the other world despite how obviously unhappy you are here. This is why you said you couldn't feel me when you first returned last year."
"You don't want to know these things, Professor," said Harry as evenly as he could. "Just go, and don't think about this again."
There was silence for a long time. Then Harry sensed it was time to add the nightshade. He opened his eyes and Snape was holding it out for him.
"Thank you," he whispered.
He sprinkled it in slowly, and then closed his eyes as he continued to stir. He didn't want to look at Snape, not this one. He seemed older, and his eyes were laced with a nearly perpetual cruelty he only rarely saw in his Severus in the other universe. He wished this Snape would leave him be tonight and let him mourn properly.
But Snape stayed, overseeing and assisting as Harry completed his brew. But he didn't speak, and he stayed out of the way so that he wouldn't interfere with the magic between brewer and potion.
And Harry continued to sob his tears into the cauldron, even though he would rather not have done so in front of this man who wore the face of his beloved, but who hated him so much.
It took three more hours to complete. Harry stoppered the finished product into three small vials while Snape cleared the work area. It was only when Harry made to leave that Snape spoke again.
"Mr. Po… Ev… Harry."
Harry paused, but he didn't want to hear apologies. He didn't need Snape to tell him that things were different here, and that they would never be friends, much less lovers. He didn't want to hear anger. He didn't need to hear Snape accuse him of lying to him for the year since he had been home.
"Can I trust you not to drink more than one of those tonight?" he asked. And that question made Harry actually turn around and look at him. Snape was as unreadable as ever. Harry nodded.
He slipped back to his quarters and set about warding and locking his bedroom safely. He then put a timed lock on his cabinet and closed his wand within. Then he drank one vial's worth of his brew and was nearly instantly surrounded by memories so lifelike that he fell under the force of Severus' curses while he trained endlessly. He cried out in ecstasy as Severus slammed into him again and again on the first night they slept together. If he had had his wand in his hand, he would have thrown curses in his empty room at the memory of the Durmstang students that had lain in wait for him and Severus during their mission to rescue the unicorns. He laughed at the jokes they shared. He cried in shame when he finally told Severus who he was, and why he needed to go back, and that he had found a way. And he felt a bruise form on his cheek where Severus hit him, raging against what Harry was telling him, crying for the first and only time Harry would ever see him do so, and begging him not to leave. And Harry wanted to scream for them to stop as they fucked and they cut each other, and they fucked and they whispered their love, and they fucked and they groaned out the words to the bonding spell that garnered so much energy as it united their minds, hearts, and souls for eternity. And with the combined power of blood magic, sex magic, and their new bond, Harry cried out the words of the ancient and obscure spell that was meant to send him back to his home world. And then he woke up and he could hear Poppy Pomfrey and Severus Snape speaking about him over his bed in the infirmary, except this time he recognized Poppy's voice, and this time he knew that Snape was not his Severus and that was why he wasn't holding his hand. And this time he didn't complain that he couldn't feel Severus though their bond. Because this time he knew it was over.
And then he woke up for real. He went to the bathroom and he threw up long and hard, until there was nothing left inside of him.
Harry lay on the bathroom floor for a long time, trying to decide what to do next, what to do with his life, what to do about his lost bondmate.
Then he climbed into the bath and washed himself. He dressed himself presentably, and did his best to tame his wild locks of hair. He retrieved his wand from the now open cabinet and he grabbed the two remaining vials and he stepped outside of his room with every intention of finding Severus Snape.
It wasn't hard. Snape was asleep in a chair he had conjured directly across the hall from Harry's quarters. Harry smiled despite himself and knelt down beside the sleeping wizard.
"Professor," he said softly.
Snape's eyes flashed open immediately. "You're alive," he said.
"Yes."
"Are you damaged?"
"No."
Snape nodded once. "Then I'm returning to my rooms. This chair is not suitable for sleeping."
"Professor," said Harry as Snape stood and banished the chair.
"What is it, Potter?" asked Snape impatiently.
Harry held out the two vials. "I can't destroy these," he said. "Will you do it for me?"
Snape looked him in the eye. "Is it over?"
Harry paused. "Yes."
Snape took the two vials and dropped them into his pocket. "Then I'll see you at breakfast."
"Professor, it's time for breakfast now."
Snape tensed his shoulders, as though willing himself not to start screaming. He glowered at Harry and said curtly, "If that is the case, then I will see you at lunch." He turned on his heel and stalked down the hallway.
Harry stood still, watching him go.
XIXIX
XIX
X
Fin.