Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium
Part III : The Beginning of Forever
Chapter Thirty : A Curse Upon Thee
26 October 2003
After carefully picking his way through Dobby's field, Harry strode through the hallway into Severus' study. He skirted the sofa on his way to the back wall, his nervous energy such that the hidden door to the library appeared and opened before he'd even finished speaking the words of command. Entering the Wizarding space, he closed the opening behind him, sealing himself into the room.
Overrun with urgency, he gave perfunctory attention to the glyph as he activated its protection. A soft pinging filled the chamber followed by a short gong sound. Harry groaned. He'd forgot that Albus (Severus wisely silent on the subject) had made a contingency system for him should he ever work here alone. Cagily anticipating the younger man's rebellion, he'd set up a second layer of security to keep 'the dear boy' out of trouble, rather like the training wheels on Dudley's first bike. Harry had come to understand the wisdom of the system, but still, he felt (especially at this late hour) a grim sort of satisfaction that he'd just awakened the old bugger, although he prudently hoped Poppy wasn't too cross with the interruption of their sleep.
Free now to work, he faced the library, awed as always at the sheer number of books and scrolls lying haphazardly around the space. Severus assured him there was absolutely no rhyme nor reason as to its organization and looking on it, Harry could well believe it. No sorting, nothing by alpha--as Severus had pointed out, if he couldn't find it, then no one else could either. Instead, there was a spell one used, literally "Find 'X'", with the name of the book if one were looking for a specific volume (which was how Severus tended to look for information) whereas Harry's looser searches by subject required a different approach. The three of them had laboured days to create the correct spells, both to summon and filter; after all, how could Harry be expected to find a specific volume if he'd never read any of them? So instead of the book sailing over to him (as they did for Severus), his selections chimed and glowed until he'd looked at them all or ended the spell. He could only take down one volume at a time, but generally the process was fairly fast.
Tonight he called out "Expiscor 'Confundus Desparo'." Immediately a discordant cacophony broke loose as dozens of books rang simultaneously, each trying to vie for his attention. With a loud, "Quaero Remedium Nostrum," spoken over the clamouring to cull the selections, the last syllable fell in a silent room. No cures it seemed. Fighting his discouragement, he tried a different tack. "Quaero Medicari." This time one lone, entirely too tiny book chimed from the back. With a quick, "Accio Librum," the little book sailed over to him, settling gently on the table.
He laid his hand flat over the book as Severus had shown him, whispering, "Reperio." The pages started riffling as though blown by a stiff breeze until they remained open near the middle. Harry sat down, pulled the book firmly over the glyph and began to read.
A small while later, he sat back in the chair, his mind awhirl. Reading the nature of the curse, a vengeful bloodlust had coursed through him; with difficulty, he concentrated on the convoluted task before him instead of regretting he'd let Avery escape real retribution. Hope warred with a fear of failure as he struggled to grasp the scope of what he was expected to do to 'cure' this thing. His objectivity fled when he realised that even if he did manage to do the impossible, the chances of success were only as good as Severus believed them to be. Given the panic and hopelessness Harry had seen previously in his lover's eyes, those odds easily fell below even.
After committing the contents to memory, a mnemonic feat accomplished only through long habit, he sent the book back to the shelf. Several fruitless searches later, he gave up looking for a surer way and prepared to start. Trying to clear his mind by conventional means proved futile, so he fell back on the very first lesson he'd learned under Poppy's tutelage and later refined by Quiesta; find a focal point, study it, and block out everything else. The only thing of that nature to hand was the glyph in the center of the table.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, Harry stared at it until the rest of the room faded from his sight. He studied it in detail, examining the snakes and their scales and the lover's knots and the...
Soon, his mind floating in a trance, a vision of the glyph, flipping like a coin when tossed, filled his inner sight. End over end it fell, seemingly forever until, with a dull clang, it landed on a smooth nondescript surface, the edge spinning, rattling through its final gyrations before coming to a complete stop. Curious, he leaned over it in his mind to see if it was heads or tails.
Heads or tails? How could a coin with the same image on both faces have different sides?
A sense of excitement pervaded him. Albus' words about finding out how he'd accomplished what he'd done came to mind. What had he done? Hurriedly, he went over the sequence of yesterday's events: pain, panic, running into the library, waiting for the glyph to open, impatiently reaching in, trying to reach Severus, a wrench of reality...
A wrench of reality.
He stopped there, recalling his state of mind--frantic, determined, his intent to reach Severus overriding all conscious thought.
Intent. What had been his intent? It was coming to him--closer, closer--there!
He saw it: his intent had been to reach his lover, plain and simple. He'd wanted, needed to find him, to touch him and when the glyph had not given him what he'd desired, he'd imbued it with his impatience, making a place, a bridge. The white nothingness.
Why? Why had it been necessary?
To reach Severus--miles away--through their ward--to protect.
He understood.
The white nothingness was something he'd created as an internal manifestation of his and Severus' wards, with the glyph still its physical embodiment.
But how? How could he have done this, the impossible?
He dropped out of the trance, still concentrating on his internal musings. He stared at the glyph in the surface of the table; it looked the same. His hand shaking, he placed his fingertips on its carved surface and almost snatched them back. It wasn't--simple--anymore; he'd changed it.
Not possible.
He shook his head. All right, it was possible; he would have to accept that if only because of the irrefutable evidence under his own hand.
What was different?
He searched, and within moments felt its causal duality--one passive, one active; it now had two sides. Not physically, of course, or at least he didn't think so, but in purpose. Whereas before, it had just contained the ward, now it WAS the ward and--more. He examined it further, sensing something else there as well. The flavour was familiar, the feel of it.
What was it?
And then he saw it.
Their marriage bonds had been added. Before tonight, when he'd worked with it earlier in the afternoon, it had only contained their handfasting bonds; however, it seemed he'd subsequently changed it when he'd broken the connection between Severus and Avery.
Without conscious thought. Without touching it this time.
How the hell could he do that? Fear coursed through him. What else could he change without knowing it? He lost his train of thought as blind panic seized him.
'Damn it, Harry, concentrate. Severus' life is at risk as long as you remain ignorant of what you've done.'
With this admonishment to himself and a few deep breaths, he set about solving this last mystery in a logical manner.
All right, back to basics. How does one define anything magical?
The answer was immediate--through its Schema. Was the Schema of the glyph the same?
He reached into the physical embodiment of their ward and could instantly see where it had been changed. Tracing its evolution proved easy and within moments understood--he'd unconsciously reached into their ward and merged it with their bonds by changing its Schema.
He Changed The Schema And Made A New One.
Before he could succumb to the fear threatening to overpower him, he focused on a sensation fluttering against his awareness like a bird trying to get through a closed glass window, overriding the questions hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Staying silent and open inside, his hand still in contact with the glyph, he began to clearly see his connections to everything around him; a wondrous extension of the vows he'd made. How all he was and would be, tied to those he loved and loved him in return. How he, Harry, fit into the plethora of Schema he could now sense around him, at once overwhelmingly huge and infinitesimally small. How his goodness balanced his evil. The two sides of himself, the two sides of the glyph, the two sides of everything that exists.
Balance, something of which Albus (all his teachers really) constantly spoke, now took on whole new worlds of meaning.
In a daze, Harry broke contact with the glyph, although the new-found equilibrium remained within him. He closed the library, making certain the wards were secure. Staggering into the middle of Severus' study by his desk, he pulled the chair out to sit and think through the ramifications of what he'd just discovered about himself and the place he occupied. The discomfort from the hard seat distracted him and, without conscious thought, he reached into it and changed its Schema to that of a comfy leather desk chair. Squirming into the seat with relief, it dawned on him what he'd just done.
Could he do it again?
Heart pounding, he stood and plucked a piece of blank parchment off of the desk, placing it well away from him on the floor. Stepping back, he reached into it, quickly finding its Schema and, without touching it or uttering a sound, changed it to a duplicate of the chair sitting at Severus' desk. He stared at it. He'd not Transfigured it. He'd made it. And he still didn't know how.
He suddenly thought about the time when he'd changed the tea in Cerise's painting to firewhiskey. In that case, he had used the Sanos to change the Schema, step by step, from one thing to the other in an established Transfiguration pattern. Or so he'd thought. Had he, in reality, simply changed it in this manner with the Sanos as a screen hiding what he'd really been doing? And his healing, when he linked two people together like Ben and Kalani; Quiesta had told him the skill was unique. Was it tied to this? Could he really have been changing their Schema using the Sanos?
He had no concrete answers, but he could see how far he could take it. Quickly, Severus' quill followed the parchment and soon a third chair sat next to the second. A hair tie, with more concentration, became the fourth chair. The fifth, coming from a piece of lint off his dressing gown, made him sweat with the effort.
Closing his eyes, he sank into the place he used to heal, the place of his highest concentration. Sensing the very molecules in the air and pushing some power into it, he tried to change one of them into the sixth chair, He gave up after a few moments which, he thought with some dark amusement, was just as well as the room was becoming quite crowded with huge leather chairs. While he didn't succeed, he suspected that once he understood the nature of the air, he could probably do it.
"I'm rather partial to the one in the middle, myself," Severus commented dryly from the doorway, casually leaning on the cased opening, his arms crossed, one hand loosely holding his wand over the sleeve of his dressing gown.
Harry jumped, whirling around, his mouth gaping open. He put his hand on his chest. "Damn it, don't DO that!"
"Do what?" Severus asked innocently. "And while we're on the subject, is there a reason you're standing in the middle of my study making chairs?"
"I thought you were sleeping," Harry hedged.
"You were gone, I woke up. I must say, this is some strong magic you're doing there."
"I--I came in here to look in the library."
"And needed a new chair? I must admit I am quite ready to retire the old one. It's always nice to have a choice, but do you think it would be possible to get one in, perhaps, a nice hunter green? This Gryffindor red is a little too racy for me."
"Don't like the colour?" Harry reached out and put his hand on the third chair. "This one?" When Severus nodded, Harry concentrated, chuckling, and the chair turned a brilliant neon chartreuse. "One hunter's green for your sitting enjoyment."
"You weren't joking when you said you didn't know colours, were you?"
"You said 'hunter green'. This is the green hunters wear out in the field."
Severus tried hard not to smile. Instead, he waved his wand with a "Slytherin Verdigris," and the chair turn a dark Slytherin green. "Ah, there. Much better." He moved over to sit in his new chair, settling his bottom comfortably in the seat. "Very nice," he commented. "So tell me, why so many?"
Harry looked a little chagrined. Sitting in the chair next to Severus, he said, "Actually, I was trying figure out what it was I'd done..."
Elbow resting on the arm of his new chair, his face cupped in his hand, Severus eyed him. "Other than changing the Schema? Is there something else I should know about?"
Harry stared at him. "You knew about that?"
Severus took pity on him. "I've 'known' since you were sixteen. Albus encouraged you to use the ability every chance he got, but..."
"I know--you weren't supposed to tell me."
"Not exactly. Albus left that part of your education strictly to me."
"So you decided not to tell me?"
"Hmmm. Not consciously, I suppose. Never occurred to me to make an issue of it. While the speed with which you learned the Schema was nothing short of amazing, what you were doing with it was not exactly unique. I mean all the disciplines use the changing of Schema to make new spells and potions and Transfigurations, although I admit there are fewer people with the ability to do so than one would think."
"I know, but that's not what I just did. Nor is it what I did earlier today." Sitting in the first fruit of his labours, he chuckled. "I think I now know one of Albus' secrets--conjuring chairs out of thin air, indeed." Severus eyes widened slightly. "I'm sure it will take some practice, but I'm fairly certain I can change the Schema of almost anything--whether I know anything about it or not."
"I see," Severus said thoughtfully. "You changed these chairs out of what?"
"Your old chair, a parchment, a quill, a hair tie, and a piece of lint."
"You can change them back? I just got that quill broken in."
Harry smiled at the normalcy of the request. It helped put the whole thing in perspective as did Severus' casual acceptance of it. "Um, the quill made the green one."
"Ah. That would explain why I'm becoming quite attached to it. Leave it, there will be other quills."
Mindful of Severus' raised brow and avid curiosity, Harry wordlessly changed the others back to their original forms without touching them, an easier task since he was already familiar with their original Schema. He wondered if knowing the Schema of something made the transition harder or easier. After a few moments of thought, he concluded it was both. If he already knew the Schema there would always be the tendency to try to change it back to its original form, something he would have to override if he were trying to make something new. The thought was sobering, especially considering his healing. However, if he were just trying to restore something to its original form...
He sat up. Wait a minute! If he could do this with their ward and the glyph and the chairs, could he change the curse as well? Could he reverse the curse by manipulating its Schema? Hope pulsed through him with his pounding blood. He gazed at his husband for several long seconds. His spirits sinking, he conceded that theory was far from practice. But he had to do something. The course of action detailed in the book was near impossible given the circumstances and would take days, leaving Severus vulnerable to further attacks by Avery.
Severus, who had been quietly watching his husband's expressive face as well as the unbidden images dancing across his inner vision, had little difficulty following Harry's train of thought, although the things he glimpsed about Avery confused him a bit. Responding to the blind panic warring with the hope dancing across his lover's face, Severus leaned over and took one of the hands folding his robe between nervous fingers. When he had Harry's undivided attention, he said quietly, "You can't hurt me, love. And at this point we have nothing to lose; I know what you found in the library and I know what your chances are of success. If you want to try, I'm willing."
Harry nodded. He stood, not letting go of Severus' hand, pulling him up with him until they were standing face-to-face. Severus folded him into his arms, holding him close. "I know you say I can't harm you," Harry whispered into Severus' shoulder, "but I'm scared I will. This thing--I do: I don't know its limits, I don't know what I'm doing with it."
Severus kissed his temple, pulling away enough to look Harry cleanly in the eyes. "Perhaps not, but I know you; I feel your heart. You won't harm me."
Harry murmured, "Gods, I wish I had your confidence in me."
Severus chuckled before claiming his lips in a serious kiss, one of support, of giving their hearts to one another. Harry drew from Severus a strength he desperately needed whereas Severus took Harry's boundless hope and made it his own. Deeper they took it, their bonds wakening, wrapping them into one person, one need, one gift, one purpose. Together, yet apart.
Breaking the kiss, Severus took Harry's hand and resolutely led him back to their bedchamber, the grass scratchy on his bare feet. Dropping his dressing gown to the ground, he climbed into the bed from Harry's side, crawling over to his own. He lay on his side facing his mate, his eyes neutral in the dim light. Harry followed and when on his side facing him, Severus pulled the covers snugly over them both and scooted over until their bodies were almost touching.
Harry took a deep breath, afraid to his core he would hurt Severus, but a small smile lit his face as he remembered that Severus had said he couldn't hurt him because of their bond. He gave his lover a soft kiss with a lighter heart. "Are you ready?" he asked solemnly.
Fingers trailing down Harry's cheek, Severus replied, "I am if you are."
Harry nodded, turning his head slightly to kiss Severus' palm. Eyes fixed on his mate, he steeled himself, moving his hand to gingerly touch one of the eyes carved in his husband's flesh. Shuddering in revulsion, he could feel the dark magic singing through the half-healed wound. His eyes glazing, he studied it; he could see its Schema, and concentrating, but not really knowing what he was doing, he tried to change it. He briefly felt a small wrench within it, but all too soon felt its malevolence as strongly as he had in the beginning. At least he'd not made it worse. Probing it further, he quickly realised the eyes were nothing more than a marker; like the glyph was to the ward, it was a physical embodiment of the curse, but it was not the curse itself. That was inside.
He inched his hand further along Severus' chest and placed his palm carefully over the Mark of their ward, and, with relief, Harry felt its clean magic. Severus moved his hand to cover his. Resting his head along Severus' arm, he gently opened the bond, falling easily into the white nothingness of their ward.
He'd have to be blind to miss the curse now, pulsing hatefully within Severus, its darkness larger and stronger than the last time he'd been here. He first checked the strength of the ward itself and when he saw its depletion, he gave it some of himself making it blaze forth. With grim amusement he noted the curse shrinking back from it, like a vampire when faced with the sun. Relentlessly he stalked it and, figuratively wading into the middle of it, he quickly found its Schema. Clueless as to what it could be changed into, he acted on his instincts, turning the curse's Schema into something he did know--their ward.
Searing pain ripped through him as the two unexpectedly tried to merge and he pressed his palm more firmly to Severus' Mark, riding it out. Severus' bruising grip on his hand held on as a small cry burst forth, his body tense, fighting the urge to pull away. Time stood still as the ward, fuelled by Harry's magic and their bond, consumed the new Schema, making it one with itself. Blinded by its ensuing brilliance, Harry could only wait, hoping he'd done the right thing.
As suddenly as it had begun, it was over, the ward mark burning beneath his hand. Sweating freely, Harry gently probed it and found it had grown with the new addition, not only in Severus but in himself as well. The coin had been flipped--evil into good. Severus lay still, panting, his skin hot, but the steady beat of his heart under Harry's hand was reassuring. He used his hand to push damp strands of hair back from his lover's face, catching his breath; now he only had the eyes and the rest of Severus' healing to accomplish, small tasks compared to what they'd just endured.
Wonder filling his voice, Severus croaked out, "I can't believe you just did that," and leaning in, kissed him. "Thank you."
Harry shifted closer, their legs tangling under the covers. "Almost done, love," he murmured softly. Feeling Severus nod, he continued.
Tiring, yet filled with determination to finish this before he slept, he placed his fingertips again on one of the eyes. Finding its Schema quickly, he first tried to eradicate it. In shock he felt his scar burn for the first time in years as if Voldemort were calling and when Severus flinched, he quickly stopped.
"Whatever that was," Severus commented wryly, a little out of breath, "please don't do it again."
Chuckling grimly, Harry said, "No worries on that score. Made my scar burn and if my scar hurts, it can't be good." He snorted, "Nice to know I may have a built-in warning system if I step over the line, wherever that is."
"Well, consider this a boundary then," Severus remarked with some irony.
Thinking on it, Harry tried changing the mark to match the healthy skin around it with no success. He blew a noisy sigh in some frustration. Damn it, he'd just changed an entire curse and now this tiny bit of flesh confounded him. He wanted the eyes, with their reminder of his mate's ordeal, gone.
After several unsuccessful tries, he realised it was beyond his current abilities; they were there to stay. In this Lucius had been right; the eyes, at least, were permanent--for now. However, that did not mean he couldn't tweak them a bit as he could any other scar tissue. The Sanos ringing, he fully healed them both and then modified them as far as he could, hoping his memory of their original configuration was accurate.
He felt Severus touch his face. Harry opened his eyes, greeted by his lover's dark gaze. "No matter. As a Mark, I suspected they could not be removed," he said resigned, as if that explained everything.
And in a way, it did. "So I gather. Not that the impossible would have been enough to stop me from trying in any event. Gryffindor stubbornness, don't you know."
"Hmmm. You have a point." He took Harry's hands between his own as he said in a querulous voice, "However shall this poor Slytherin survive."
Harry laughed. "I'm quite certain you'll think of something appropriate to keep me in line."
In better spirits, it took little effort afterwards to sink into the pathways and fully heal his husband; Severus fell asleep sometime in the middle, making the job easier for Harry in the long run. His husband would still be stiff, there was no helping it, but all the hidden hurts caused by the curse and his time away were gone. Time away--who was he trying to fool? Torture, plain and simple, although like most people, he shied away from such an ugly term. Tor-ture. There, he'd made himself think it again, the words a reality he didn't want to contemplate but knew he couldn't evade.
Severus certainly could not escape it. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but at some time the nightmares would come as the happenings of today echoed the deeds of the past, twisting his lover's sleep until broken by soft caresses and healing lips while strong arms and a ready body absorbed the cries of remembered pain and despair heard only in the darkest night. And in the light of day, the memories would be unmentioned, hidden behind eyes that could not completely meet his own, the loving given to the one speaking of a silent, desperate gratitude, the loving given by the other telling of a deep understanding with no need to explain.
Just one more thing to add to the Malfoy tally.
Yet they'd prevailed. All of them. Severus was his bondmate. Husband. The mere thought sent pleasant ripples through him. He snuggled closer, his arm snug around his lover's waist, wishing uncharitably that Severus would take him in his arms and love him in the dawning light of day. He smiled against the skin under his cheek; given the familiar light snores, Severus slept deeply and dreamlessly. Always a blessing when it happened.
He was so tired. With the smallest movements, he gently extricated himself to roll over. Scooting back, he settled his backside into Severus' front, burrowing his head into his pillow. Severus moved closer, throwing his arm over Harry's waist, all the bits of him pressed as close as he could get them; their legs tangling by habit. When Harry captured his arm, hugging it close, Severus' left arm wormed out from under him to settle on top of Harry's. This was nice. Very nice, indeed.
Harry curled his head forward to keep his unruly hair out of his lover's face, his heavy eyes sagging closed, lulled by the pulses felt in the arms holding him fast as much as the soft snuffles breezing down his back. His body relaxed by slow degrees, jerking a bit every now and again as his heart and breathing slowed to match his mate's, and quietly, he slipped into his dreams--
--only to startle awake a few moments later, heart pounding as the afterimages of the Mosmorde he'd seen behind closed eyes, hung in front of him, the poison green of its light bathing him and Severus in an eerie glow. His scar ached. Voldemort. Voldemort was back and they were woefully unprepared. He instinctively pulled Severus closer, probing the area around him, trying to locate the bastard. He looked everywhere around them, searching. He won't get away this time. Have to find him, have to kill him.
He reached out with his mind and grabbed at the strong feeling of Voldemort's hidden presence and followed it as he had before in his dreams as a boy, eventually arriving at its source residing in a tiny spot lying over his arm. There, there he was, pressed tight to his forearm; it burned. He reached into it and, sensing the very thing that made it what it was, he twisted it until he couldn't feel it anymore. Panicked that he'd let his nemesis escape, Harry again went on the hunt; have to find him, have to kill him--
"Harry." Soft lips pressed gently to his forehead. A strong, warm arm tightened around his waist. "Harry, wake up; it's only a dream," murmured through lips chasing across his cheeks and eyes. "Hush, love, it's all right, I'm here." A tender touch moved the sweat soaked hair out of his face, followed by kisses ghosting across his mouth. "You're safe. He's gone. We got rid of him, remember?" Fingers trailed sleepily down his side, making him shiver as he dragged himself the last few feet out of his dream.
"Severus?" he mumbled, still foggy and somehow on his back, barely able to make out in the dim light his lover turned on his side facing him, his head propped up on his elbow. "Sorry to wake you," he began only to be interrupted by warm fingers gentling his face, the tender kiss felt down to his toes.
"Mmmm, s'll right," Severus murmured, turning his head to hide a yawn. "Have to use the loo anyway." He gave Harry one more kiss, then asked, "You all right now?"
Harry smiled in the dark. "I'm awake, I think. I'm with you, so I must be all right."
Severus leaned over him again, nipping at his lower lip. He drew breath to speak, but instead 'hmmm'd' as he ran his tongue lightly over Harry's lips.
Instantly, achingly hard, Harry wanted to suck on that teasing tongue, but also knew that if they both didn't go to the loo soon, it wouldn't matter how much they dallied, they'd never come. And he really wanted to play. "Ahhh, I thought you said you needed to--oh, yes, right there--go," Harry reminded him breathlessly as warm lips nipped down his neck.
Severus didn't move right away, instead his tongue laved the spot where Harry's neck met his shoulder, earning him one of Harry's helpless, mewling noises. Breaking away finally with a groan, Severus rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled over Harry to get his dressing gown by the side of the bed. He left the room muttering something Harry was quite certain he didn't want to hear.
When Severus returned a few minutes later, he wordlessly picked up Harry's dressing gown off of the meadow and held it out to him on the end of one finger. Resigned, Harry climbed out of the warm bed, shivering as he pulled it on, tying it securely at the waist. Severus folded him into his arms and held him steady for a moment, then pulling back, kissed him, his tongue sliding in ever so slowly. Harry leaned into him, wanting to continue it, but something else was pressing at the moment, and, with a rueful chuckle, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on Severus' shoulder. "We'll not get far if I don't siphon the python soon."
Severus playfully dropped his hands down to squeeze his arse while nuzzling his neck. "Hurry back, I'm not going anywhere."
Harry slid sideways out his arms, barely evading a tickle aimed at his ribs. Shaking his head, he ambled off to the loo, the grass tickling his feet.
On his way out, he realised half his still-groggy state was due less to sleeplessness than to needing another dose of the restorative. Thinking he could take it after he and Severus had a little fun, he stumbled to his study, stubbing his foot on the sideboard near the entry. Swearing softly, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and lit it with a "Lumos," thinking he must be really out of it if he was banging about when normally he could traverse the apartment blind-folded. At the back of the room, he drew a familiar vial of clear amber liquid out of a locked cabinet, noticing his supply was running low. While he didn't want to bother Severus so soon, he knew any suggestion of obtaining more from an outside source would be greeted poorly, so he made a mental note to tell Severus tomorrow--no, today--that he needed more.
Leaving his wand lit, he made his way to the bedchamber envisioning what he'd like to do with his husband and was almost at the point of deciding that making Severus whimper first could be a pleasant pastime, when he stopped short, only a little disappointed that the game would have to wait. Standing by the side of the bed, he smiled; Severus was out cold, already starting to snore again. Chuckling wickedly, he thought that if he played this carefully, he could get some mileage out of it later. With some regret, he pulled the vial out of his pocket, popped the seal, and drank it down, knowing it would help him sleep.
Severus' left arm was outflung on the bed, waiting for him to slide into place. Harry was about to extinguish his wand when something about the whole pose struck him as wrong. Bending closer, he brought his wand over and then he saw it.
The Dark Mark was gone.
His hands shaking, he ran his fingers lightly over the smooth skin where before had been the remnants of Severus' Dark Mark. He looked up sharply as Severus stirred; raising himself up, he looked at the missing mark and than back to Harry with no comment but a raised brow. "Come to bed love," he said blandly, holding the covers up so Harry could slide in next to him. Harry quickly muttered, "Nox," and, stripping off the dressing gown, climbed into the bed. Severus settled him comfortably into his spot, with a sleepy, "Sorry. My mind is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Harry snuggled in, Severus' heart beating strongly under his cheek, their legs comfortably tangled. He moved his hand a bit further up his chest, laying it flat on their Mark. "It's all right. I'm tired, too," he whispered trying to still the shaking of his body.
After several minutes, time in which Severus tried to soothe his lover with light caresses, he finally gave up trying to sleep for the moment. Despite his residual exhaustion, he tightened his arms around his precious burden, wondering what he more he could say to make it better. Harry was lying so quiet against him, but his body still shivered despite the covers and the warmth he lent him. Very softly, enunciating every word, he said, "You can't hurt me, Harry."
"I'm so sorry, Severus. I didn't mean..."
"Hush, love, we'll talk about it in the light of day after we've both slept. You must be exhausted and while I feel good, amazingly so, I can barely keep my eyes open." He moved Harry's hair out of his face. "Thank you. For everything."
"I would do anything for you, Severus. I love you. I'm just..."
"I know. I love you, too."
"Sev, how can you be so calm about all this?"
Severus settled deeper into the bed, his energy draining away. "I'm a teacher, remember? Potions gone wrong? Exploding cauldrons?" he murmured. "After these, everything else seems pretty tame in comparison." He stifled a yawn in his pillow.
Then Harry said what was really bothering him. "Why is it I can't feel you right now and I have no desire, yet a few minutes ago I wanted you so badly and could feel us all over. What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. I suspect the bond adjusts to what we need at the moment. We only thought we wanted, but deep inside we needed something different." He pulled Harry closer, kissing his forehead. "And you'd hear us better if you'd stop listening to your fear."
Harry nodded, snuggling in when he felt Severus kiss the top of his head. "I'll try," he murmured, lifting his face in a tacit plea for kisses. Severus, hand cupped around his face, obliged him, and their kiss was sweet and undemanding. Not too long afterwards, Harry sighed and rested his head back in his spot.
Sleep eluded him as he still shivered, wondering what he'd done this time. And what would he do next time? Was Severus in any danger? Despite his mate's reassurances, he couldn't help but fear the consequences of this new talent and resolved to talk to Albus about it in the morning. Something about what he'd said led Harry to think that Albus, at least, had been expecting this development and was not displeased by it. Perhaps there was hope he could learn to control it.
And he had to wonder what had awakened Severus earlier. Was it his unintended manipulation of something as deep-seated as the Dark Mark, or was it the automatic sensitivity they both had to the dreams of the other? Perhaps both? Unless...
His heart pounding, Harry made the final connection. He'd been working below Severus' consciousness. This was the driving reason it had been vital that Severus experience and accept this unknown part of him before they'd married. Had Severus rejected the bridge Harry had made, he would have died fighting him; Harry was humbled by the deep trust his mate had given him.
Damn the old bugger, Albus had been right; Harry had needed to discover this ability on his own. He would never have believed it had he been told. But only after the wedding. Had he known about this skill beforehand, he might have hesitated making vows, his fear of hurting Severus so fundamental, so profound, he would have freed Severus from their handfasting before taking any chance of harming him.
Now, according to Severus, Harry could not damage him, even if he tried. The bond would not allow it, and a small inkling of Albus' plan, for he was thoroughly certain it had been planned, started making sense. For their future, he needed to learn how to control it. He sighed, stirring the hairs on Severus' chest. One more thing to control--as if he didn't already have enough. But learn it he would if only to prevent Severus future grief.
"What am I, Severus?" he whispered in the dark. Unless one counted a snuffling snore, he never got a proper response. Which was probably just as well. Severus was right; they could discuss it tomorrow.
Today, actually. The room was lightening from the sun winking through the cracks in the draperies closed over the windows. The day was fast approaching and he'd not slept yet, not really. The restorative finally doing its job, his last thought before slipping into sleep was that while talking was essential, it could wait.
For other things.
TBC