Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium
Part III : The Beginning of Forever
Chapter Forty Nine : Introductions à Deux
Wednesday 5 November 2003 GMT, Continued
Severus found it ironic that the man who'd first been honest enough to tell him, "Life's not fair, get over it," was seated only three chairs down from Albus on the other side of the table. He wished, as always, the old man was wrong, but he'd found nothing, as yet, to prove it otherwise. Which was probably why Severus had immense respect for Septimius as a wizard and might even admit to a certain fondness for the old man, but he really didn't like being with him very much; he was right far too often for any real comfort.
However, professional courtesy demanded he speak to him before he left, if only to thank him for taking over his classes. Now would be a good time; lunch was almost over and the Great Hall stood empty, save for a few staff with no afternoon classes. And Harry. He sighed. No, life wasn't fair.
Unable to do more than silently move his food from one side of the plate to the other (and a quick glance at Harry's almost full plate explained why he hadn't been chided for it), he'd tried to push his unruly disappointment to the back of his mind; while he knew the decision he'd made was the right one, it didn't mean it completely satisfied. Well, in a way it did because he'd made it and was comfortable with the reasons, but it didn't because it was, at this point in his life, his second choice. While many times in the past he'd been forced to give up the things he desired, this one, in particular, stung because the aspirations of his professional life directly conflicted with the needs of his personal life. Not that this presented much of a dilemma. With no hesitation his personal life came first. But - damn it! - just once, he'd like a chance to satisfy both sides of his life.
He had to admit, in a deep secret part of himself, that there was a certain sense of justification and gratification that Harry was upset on his behalf. Well, if Harry was studying under Septimius, as he'd indicated during the only real conversation they'd had over the last hour, then he would at least be spared telling Harry that one fundamental truth about life; Septimius would do it for him. It was always his first lesson to any new student in his 'no-nonsense-get-it-out-of-the-way' manner.
Well, sitting here was not getting the job done; even if his heart wasn't in it right now, he did have to teach this afternoon. Placing his napkin on the table, he'd just prepared to stand when Harry leaned over, asking quietly, "Aren't you going to class?"
Breaking the awkward silence plaguing them over their half-eaten meal, Severus replied, "In a few minutes. Septimius is leaving soon and I've not yet had a chance to speak to him." His lip curled. "Are you certain you want to study under him? He can be quite disagreeable."
"So you said. But as I mentioned before, Albus says he's the best and recommends him highly." He glanced up the table. "Do you mind if I tag along? Albus says Septimius wants to test me before he'll consider teaching me. I need to arrange a time for it."
Severus snorted. "You are welcome to accompany me, but I should warn you - the old man has some, ah, eccentricities with those he knows well that many find - offensive."
Harry smiled. "And he knows you well?"
He gave it some thought and, after assuring himself that no students remained in the room, leant over, saying quietly, "Septimius is a peculiar little man. One minute polite, the next he'll burn your ears with his insults and innuendo. Never steady that and he takes no guff from anyone, nor will he spare one the sharper edge of his tongue, although there's rarely any malice in it. If I have some lingering antipathy towards him, I hope I can be excused; I spent five grueling years under his direct tutelage while earning my mastery and barely avoided spending at least some of that time 'under' him as well." Now why had he brought that old water up?
At Harry's wide-eyed stare, he hastily added, "Although he asked several times, sometimes I think just to tease, he always took 'no' for an answer and I've never heard anything from anyone, male or female, to refute it."
Harry didn't reply, but visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to alarm you, just warn you not to take it seriously should the old man make some of his infamous off-colour comments. In fact, replying in kind has its uses; Septimius is not one to respect false respect. If he annoys you, say so."
"Thanks. Any help is appreciated, although I'm not certain I can do that to a total stranger let alone a teacher, but I'll keep it in mind." He wiped his hands on his robes. "I don't know why I'm so fidgety about all this."
And Severus didn't know why he was nervous about Septimius, not known for his celibacy even now, teaching Harry, spending so much time alone with him. Was this what jealousy felt like? Stupid way to feel, all things considered. "It's understandable. Septimius has a - reputation - for speaking his mind and he's not always kind, in fact, I suspect he'll be recorded in the history books as 'Septimius the Curmudgeon'." He smiled when Harry chuckled. "However, we've had some professional dealings since my student days and, heaven help me, he likes me for some reason, which makes him even more inclined to - speak freely."
Thoughtfully, Harry stared unseeing at the empty tables. "Hmmm. Perhaps then, I'll wait until you're done. I'm not certain I'm ready right now for any more 'free speech'."
What Severus really wanted to do was lean over and kiss the odd melancholy off of Harry's face, but settled for leaning even closer to whisper, "A wise choice. I'll more than likely have to attend a staff meeting immediately following dinner, but we can talk afterwards." He found and squeezed Harry's hand under the table. "I'm sorry I've not been the best company, but I've been hard-pressed to find anything worth saying that could be uttered in front of a roomful of greedy ears."
Harry turned his head until their faces were a breath apart. "I know, and I understand. I'll see you at dinner?"
"Assuming I survive my first years this afternoon?" He chuckled. "Yes."
"Only an inch," Harry whispered, his eyes dropping to Severus' mouth. Raising them he stared, the hunger in his eyes answered by one of his own. He couldn't stay.
"More like a mile," he replied ruefully, releasing Harry's hand. Standing abruptly, he gave into the temptation and brushed his hand across Harry's shoulder as he resolutely walked to the other side of the table, keenly aware of Harry not staring at him as he moved away.
He arrived in time to hear Septimius tell Albus and Filius, "Owl me when you find out. It's entirely too delicious the irony of the whole thing." His eyes slid to Severus and winked. "Ah, my boy!" he called out. "Just the person I was waiting for. Good of you to tear yourself away from your new - husband." Yes, he was definitely glad Harry wasn't here.
"Provecto," he replied with a nod. "If I might..."
"Certainly, certainly." He turned back to the others. "Albus, Filius, I need to speak to Severus before I go. As always, a pleasure, and Owl me."
Standing from his chair, the top of the old man's head only came to Severus' chest. Looking down, all he could see were the liver spots dotting a shiny bald pate and forehead, encircled by a halo of wild, white hair. Until he turned his face up to him; man must have neck muscles of iron, Severus thought irreverently. Set under bushy brows and close to a short narrow nose, the familiar sapphire eyes shone bright with a mocking intelligence while the thin lipped mouth, which could be held in a prim line of biting censure, curled upwards in suppressed mirth oddly complementing the seamed aristocratic face.
In a good mood, then. Severus didn't know whether to be pleased or more wary. With the old man, it could fall either way.
"Walk with me," he said, placing his hand on Severus' arm.
Feeling like a courtier with a consort on his arm, Severus replied, "Very well, but I've not much..."
"Oh, don't be such a fussbudget, Severus. The wait will do them good. First you're here, then you're not, then you are; I'm teaching, I'm not teaching. You've started a good rhythm keeping them unbalanced; don't ruin it now by arriving on time." They started up the aisle. "Have to say, though, fine job you've done with such dismal raw materials, although I daresay you have a few well worth the effort. Which is why I wanted to speak to you." With a wily glance, he added, "I wanted to make certain you realised that a few of your Seventh Years have great potential. The remainder you can throw to whatever dogs suit your fancy."
Surprised, Severus' brows shot up. "Oh? I have three I've already pegged for apprenticeships starting this summer."
"Got the appropriations, did you?" He rubbed his chin with his fingers. "Pity, I was hoping to tap one of them in particular - a Mr. Merrywell, I believe."
Artemis? Over his dead body.
"Ah, I see you've already approached him. No matter, I don't poach." His face sly, he chortled, "Perhaps I can use your Harry for a bit, test his potions abilities while I train him for the other?"
Would this glare suffice, or did he need a stronger one?
Septimius chuckled. "No? Didn't think so. You never did share with the other boys, or with me for that matter. Which reminds me, I was wondering; are you certain you want to let a handsome fellow like myself anywhere near your beautiful boy? He certainly would make an appealing bottom."
Taken aback, Severus retorted without thinking, "Harry does not bottom!" Instantly he wished he could recall it. Damn, would he never learn?
Brows raised in amusement, Septimius rejoined, "I always wondered which way you laid. Well, it's too late now," he sighed, shaking his head in mock resignation, "already taken and, unfortunately, not my cuppa; you're far too prickly for my tastes. I much prefer them younger and sweeter."
"That almost convinces me there's a god," Severus muttered.
His face more serious, Septimius tugged on his arm to draw his full attention. "With all due honour, Severus, I promise I'll behave myself with him." With a wink, he finished, "Or as much as I'm able."
That definitely required the 'don't-even-think-about-it' glare.
"Oh, you're such an old woman, Severus. Don't worry, he's safe. Wouldn't know anymore what to do with so much lovely boy at one time in any event." Almost to the door to the corridor, Septimius half-turned, glancing back to the head table. "Which reminds me, it seems you lost your manners somewhere along the way; you've never introduced us. It's only proper, you know."
Counting to ten as it seemed his students were not the only ones Septimius wanted to keep off-balance, Severus sighed, resigned to the mischievous smile gracing his face. "I don't have time for this," he muttered, "but I'll go get..."
"No, no, don't bother going there, just call him. That's why you're bound. Saves on shoe leather." He tightened his grip on Severus' arm as if he might run away; it was rather tempting.
All right, he'd humour the blighter and then go get Harry, who was now avidly talking to Pince. Keeping his eyes fixed on his husband, he sent a picture of him walking over to join them. He bit back a shocked gasp when Harry's head came up and around to stare at him, his face puzzled. He frowned, then with a look of sudden understanding, Severus found his mind filled with a nondescript image which could only be described as 'yes'.
Septimius chuckled. "Quick learner."
Suspicious, Severus asked sharply, "What did you do?"
His face closed, Septimius replied, "Amazing what a little boost will do. He figured it out faster than I would have thought, although I did make it a bit obvious."
As Harry walked over cautiously but quickly, Septimius watched his progress, remarking, "I hear you may be changing jobs soon; pity Albus is not improving any and is too stubborn by half to fix the problem himself. I'll miss him."
"I am not 'changing jobs'."
"Oh? Really? That's not what I heard, if I understood the castle correctly, but be that as it may, you would make a solid, if a bit cranky, headmaster."
With some heat, Severus said, "I am not...
"Now, now, Severus, don't be too hasty with your refutal; not everything's fallen into place yet."
Severus was spared his caustic reply with Harry's raised brow of inquiry. He was dead late to his class and even though Septimius thought this a good idea, he did not. Grateful for the interruption, he quickly made the requested introductions, his impatience oddly soothed by Harry's presence. Once the two men had shaken hands, he asked with some asperity, "Is there more you require, old man, or may I leave now?"
"By all means, boy, why are you just standing here? Shoo! You're late! Did you lose track of the time? Run along now - say hullo to the little reprobates for me - especially that Lance Veni. Regular little Death Eater that boy is - almost made me long for the bad old days."
Shaking his head, Severus made a rude noise as he stalked out of the Great Hall, thinking he must be having a truly horrid day if he could honestly say that was one of the brighter parts of it.
.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.
Watching the exchange, Harry began to understand why Severus was wound as tightly as a clock spring. The dynamics were interesting as one glared and the other baited. Did Septimius do this with everyone, or only those he liked? He wasn't certain he wanted to find out either way. Unable to tear his eyes from his husband's retreating back, Harry heard himself say, "That was truly wicked, you know."
The low chuckle in response didn't surprise him as much as own his words did. "He'll survive." Septimius turned to him. "I've already said my farewells - stayed around just so I could see the auld sod before I left - miss him fiercely, sometimes." He hooked his hand over Harry's arm. "Walk me to the front door; we need to set up a schedule."
Just like that? No comments? No discussion? No test? Shaking his head, Harry muttered, "Bloody amazing," to himself as they slowly made their way out of the Great Hall.
Almost to the corridor door, Septimius swore. "Damn it, left my cane at the table. Be a good boy and fetch it for me, will you?"
With surprising good humour, Harry trudged through the empty row of tables towards the head table, muttering all the way about old lazy wizards who couldn't even Accio their own possessions, relying instead on young idiots, such as himse...
"Harry! Behind you!" Flitwick shouted in alarm.
Whirling, he dipped into his sleeve to pull his wand - it wasn't there! Looking up, he immediately saw the danger - a flashing dagger flew at him, end over end, obvious magic propelling it as it moved straight and true well past the point where it should have dropped and fallen had it been thrown by hand. Rusty habit made him drop into a place of concentration where time itself seemed to slow. Determined, he sighted the blade with his hand forward, palm up, placing his effort to stopping its momentum. Successful, man and blade stood still in a deadlock as it hovered, point first, a hair's breadth from skewering his palm.
Sweating, he tried banishing it, but it wouldn't budge. He soon found he couldn't change it, couldn't move, nor turn it; there was too much power behind it. Nonchalantly walking towards him, Septimius held it by the force of his will alone.
Damn it! The old man wasn't even trying. But he was relieved his own skill was sufficient to keep the knife from coming closer. When he finally reached him, Septimius calmly plucked the knife by the hilt out of the air, tucking it into a sheath he had hidden deep in his sleeve.
Eyes locked, master and student glared at one another for a moment, one with a raised brow, the other's breath heaving out in gasps. "You're strong, I grant you that, but the day you can turn the knife on me, is the day you will have earned your mastery." He called for his cane and handed Harry back his wand. "Palmed it. Always watch yourself, Mr. Potter. Awareness costs nothing; the price of sloppiness may be your life. Always question a fool's errand - even to me."
A test. It was only a test. "You wouldn't be related to a man with one eye, now would you?" Harry muttered, wiping his face on his sleeve as they started walking again.
"Who? Moody? Smart man, knows when to shut up. You could learn something from him as well." He slapped him lightly on the arse. "But I have something with one eye..."
Oh, good lord. Only Severus' timely warning kept him from jumping out of his skin. "In your dreams, maybe," he muttered without thinking.
He was almost accustomed to the old man's wheezy chuckles. "Can't reach much higher than that, boy. Now, show me how to get out of this place."
Greatly daring, Harry replied calmly, "What? Forget the way already?" and was rewarded by more wheezing.
Harry accompanied the professor to the front entrance, the walk slow, with frequent rests along the way. While there was little conversation, the silence was by no means oppressive and gave Harry the time to surreptitiously study him. Severus was right, he was a strange little man, by far the oldest he'd ever seen. Pale, his paper-thin skin looked buttery soft, as if he took care of it - an interesting affectation in one so old, but well in keeping with the richness of his perfectly tailored navy and gold alchemist's robes. Not a poor man by any means.
The wrinkled hands, with their short blunt fingers and manicured nails, gripped his arm with deceptive ease as he steadied himself. Harry itched to read him, to penetrate the air of savage urbanity surrounding him. More than anything, he wanted to see if the insides were as well-preserved as the outside.
At one of their stops, sitting on a bench under a portrait of Ephrant the Snake Charmer, Septimius reached out and summoned from under Harry's robes the pendant Severus had given him as a wedding present. Still attached to its chain, it morphed easily through the fabric of his robes to land in Septimius' outstretched palm. "Beautiful work," he murmured, turning it in the light, "but then again, Severus always did have exquisite taste."
Going still inside, Harry asked in a hoarse whisper, "How did you know...?"
Septimius chuckled. "I made the matrix for him." He magicked the pendant back where he'd found it, careful not to touch Harry. "He's very protective of you, isn't he?"
"He can be," Harry replied cautiously.
"Can't say I much blame him; however, I must make it clear that this course of study is not without risks. Serious risks."
"So is crossing a street in London during rush hour."
"Saucy boy. You know what I'm saying. Is this," he waved his hand at Harry's chest, "going to interfere?"
"You've spoken to Quiesta. Are the risks you speak of any more than the ones I take every day with me to work?"
"No, not really."
"Then it won't interfere."
"Are you certain? As I've already demonstrated, the tests to ensure mastery could kill you if you're not prepared."
Harry bit his tongue on the sharp retort hovering on its edge. He would not be goaded into an unfavourable response. Septimius studied his resolve a few moments before nodding and flicking his fingers as if shaking water off the ends. Harry thought it a very odd gesture until he realised it was a spell, wordless and deadly.
He could feel his limbs turning to stone. Literally.
A false calm, learned long ago, instantly replaced the first edge of panic. "Analyze. Quickly, Potter. Damn it, use your head for something more than a hatrack." Mesmerised, he watched the magic creep up his arms as he furiously sought the Schema changing his flesh to grey granite; if he didn't hurry, it would reach his vital organs soon. He couldn't find it, couldn't remember any like it. Almost out of time and desperate, he concentrated not on what he was becoming, but rather on what he had been. The reaction slowed. Yes, that should do it. With a painful wrench, inch by inch, he restored himself until everything felt normal again. Breathing deeply against a lingering ache in his joints, his hands shook with reaction.
Thoughtful eyes pinned him in place like a butterfly to a collector's display. "Hurts like a mother, doesn't it?" The implacable tone bore no sympathy, but Harry somehow knew he'd done all right when the old man remarked, "Reactions a bit slow, but I'd expected that; no matter, it's a place to start. The important thing is you survived. However inelegant, the end justified the means."
Could this day get any stranger? Or this man? Suddenly the future looked very interesting.
Without another word, Septimius rose and they continued on through the corridor, the cane making soft thucking noises with every slow step. When they reached the front door, it opened of its own accord. Septimius chuckled wickedly, glancing all around him. "Yes, yes, I know. Good riddance and all that."
Harry's mouth fell open. "Pardon, sir?"
"Would have thought Severus could have fixed your 'pixie-in-the-wandlight' reaction by now. 'Course, I suspect he's had other things more tempting to do lately. No matter, it's just one more thing to work on."
Harry opted to ignore his editorial comments - for now. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand."
"No, I suppose you don't. The castle is about as fond of me as it is of you right now, only my - history - with it goes back so far we've both forgot what started our argument in the first place."
Harry considered this extraordinary statement, his curiosity piqued, but he held his tongue; something told him he would eventually learn what Septimius meant - and how did he know about his troubles with it?
Septimius walked through the opening, Harry following. "It doesn't much like anyone who can - best - it," he muttered to himself, leaning heavily on his cane as he approached the first step. With solicitous care, Harry offered his arm again and between it and the cane, they eventually got the old man creaking down the front steps. "Thank you, my boy. These old joints get stiffer every year."
"I assume you've seen a healer about them?" Harry asked drolly.
Septimius peered at him sharply. "Not one such as yourself. My continuing health is - unique; not much any of them can do for me anymore. I know we've not spoken of payment, but if I can train you sufficiently to work around some - irregularities - and fix these blasted things, I'll consider us even."
"Want them in full working order, do you?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Damn right I do!" he replied, laughing. He tugged on Harry's robes, pulling him down to his knees so they could talk eye to eye. "Now, what's on your mind, eh?"
Harry looked away.
"Come now, boy, haven't bit anyone yet who didn't survive. Out with it."
"What did you mean when you told Severus to wait on his decision, that 'not everything's in place'?"
"Ah. I wondered if you'd caught that; you look half asleep when you're paying attention."
"The conversation was between you and Severus; I was just pretending not to listen. It's called 'being polite'."
"I see. Fortunately, I gave up manners before Albus was born. Found them a bit of a nuisance."
Why did that not surprise him?
"As to why I told Severus to wait? Because you've not played your trump yet."
Huh? "Trump?"
Septimius sighed. "All right, I suppose it's not fair to start in the middle. Let's look at this a different way. What do you want?" he asked him.
Startled, Harry was about to say 'nothing' when he realised the question wasn't rhetorical. He didn't know why he said it, but the words, "I just want him to be happy," came out before he really understood them.
The old man laughed lightly. "Too bad you want something over which you have no control. Try again - a little narrower this time."
"I just want Severus to have a true choice. One only for himself and what's right for him and what he wants, without coercion or manipulation."
"Better. So, what's preventing him from making a free choice?"
"I don't think it's me, nor any one person. It's the..." Harry hesitated. He'd think him crazy.
"Out with it, boy. It's not as improbable as you might think."
"All right. It's the castle. It - it wants Severus as headmaster and it's adamant..."
"Yes, it can be a bit of a bully sometimes; I suspect it doesn't know any better, really. Not exactly conversant in interpersonal relations is it, but what can one expect? No one ever just talks to it."
Harry smiled, thinking it odd to hear his own earlier thoughts spoken aloud. "...and because of its methods, Severus may be choosing a course he doesn't want to take."
Septimius eyed him knowingly. "And you want see the playing field levelled out, so to speak?" When Harry nodded, Septimius continued cryptically, "Quite a tall order, but fairly simple to accomplish as long as you remember that commitments go both ways. You've already spoken the words you'll need to speak again and bear the means you'll need to share again to ensure success." He patted Harry on the cheek. "You're sufficiently motivated; I'm confident you'll figure it out."
"Me? Why me?"
"I'll wager you've been asking yourself that all you life, eh?"
"Well, yeah."
"Get any answers yet?"
Harry shook his head.
"Then why do you keep asking?" As Harry drew breath, Septimius held up a hand. "First lesson: life's not fair, get over it. Second lesson: sometimes that's just the way it is. Your energy is best spent calculating the 'how' of a thing; there is ample time afterwards to wonder 'why'." He started off, waving Harry back to the steps. "I'll be fine from here. Plan on Mondays; arrive at the wards in the morning, ten sharp. Severus or Albus can tell you where."
Standing stiffly, Harry nodded, although Septimius wouldn't see it as he moved away. "Monday morning, then," he called, turning to go back up the stairs, resisting the urge to look back. Once through the open door, it snicked closed behind him. Standing still, he took his time examining the castle surrounding him. He couldn't feel anything from it except the normal sense of immense age one normally experienced while inside. It certainly didn't seem alive, even though he now knew it was.
However, Septimius had given him much to contemplate; he suspected every word counted and there'd been a hint of confidence that Harry could succeed if he could only figure out what the old man meant. Heartened, Harry decided to go to his thinking place, intending to do just that.
.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.
Hours later (after he decided walking the hallways didn't soothe him as much it did Severus) Harry ambled back to their quarters; his thoughts awhirl, he was no closer to understanding Septimius' words now than he'd been earlier.
The astronomy tower had been freezing, the fierce wind whipping his robes around him, but by that virtue it had also been relatively quiet and unpopulated, leaving him ample opportunity to digest the remains of his small lunch as much as what Septimius had said. Eventually tiring of both cold ears and endless speculation, he'd found himself in the restricted section of the library; Madam Pince had been helpful, but he'd really longed for Hermione's assistance sifting through the mountain of information available on Hogwarts. However, that had proved impossible; a quick fire-call to her office determined 'Mrs. Granger Weasley' was off to the continent and was not expected back til tomorrow.
Bugger - he was on his own.
Dinner had been a quiet affair in the Great Hall; even the students had been subdued, their conversation low and closely huddled, as if they too sensed that Great Happenings were afoot. Adult conversation had also been minimal. Beyond a subtle withdrawal he'd sensed since returning from their honeymoon (as if there was a new invisible line defining their privacy) the staff had deliberately distanced themselves even further. And while he had no concerns for himself beyond a mild annoyance, the well-concealed hurt he could sense from Severus at this sudden isolation made him want to smack them.
Harry had twice tried breaking the silence, but such was its hold on the entire table, his quiet comments had sounded as if he'd shouted, "the hostess has a big arse," in a patch of silence at a noisy party. Finally giving it up, he concentrated instead on landscaping his magic potato mountain with small sprigs of broccoli. He knew his efforts were appreciated when a trail of currants (from Severus' untouched spotted dick) wended their way down the lumpy side in a twisty road. Of course, the hand resting comfortably on his leg under the table merely reinforced the notion.
As the last dish vanished from the table (including that of his masterpiece carelessly demolished by an errant napkin), Albus quietly announced the much anticipated heads of house meeting immediately following dinner (at which time he pointedly excluded Harry, despite Severus' growling protests). With a softly spoken apology and a swift press of Severus' hand to his own, he was soon alone, left to his own devices. Hence the short, frustrating walk and his subsequent return to their apartment.
He reset the wards after entering, wondering for the thousandth time how he could equitably resolve this whole bloody situation. He knew Severus intended to refuse the position, but - damn it! - that was not what his husband really wanted. Once again, Severus would be choosing his path for another. For him, and either way he lost; somehow this didn't sit right with Harry, didn't fulfill his basic need for fairness. Unless he solved Septimius' riddles soon, there was little he could do to alleviate the problem. He was excluded and that, as much as his bitter helplessness, burned, too.
Feeling somewhat grungy, he decided a shower and a change of clothes might make him feel a bit less tense. Given Severus' decision, he cautiously approached the next space, half-expecting to be back in their old apartments, but no, he entered the rotunda - and gasped.
Dobby had obviously been busy.
True to his request, the house-elf had hung three magnificent tapestries to cover the bare walls. Each of the same width, but of increasing height, they blazed in the indirect lighting, their rich colours making the space almost homey and warm. Curious, Harry hastily made his way to the first of the three. His nose almost buried in the worn, ancient nap, he could see the finest details of the tiny figures in their flowing diorama. It took him a moment to determine what the scenes depicted: the last battle between the wizards and the house-elves, their eventual defeat, and the subjugation of the Accords of Riese. He made a mental note to ask Dobby to make sure this one came with them when they left; he wanted to study it in greater detail.
The second tapestry was the story of Dumbledore's battle with Grindelwald. Vibrant, the colours shifted and shimmered as the events played out to their historical conclusion. The third one make him chuckle - he didn't look anything like that, did he? Although the rendition of Severus and Albus wasn't half-bad. But he had to admit, seeing his own efforts reduced to moving fabric was odd, to say the least. He thought Minerva might let him come back to see this one. The events of the final battle with Voldemort were so hazy in his memory, it would be interesting to see what everyone else had been about.
Looking around the rotunda, he realised he was actually going to miss the place, although it really was more suited to McGonagall's whims than to his and Severus', perhaps, simpler needs. He chuckled, thinking he would forego his bathing until they were back to wherever they wound up; it hadn't been all that long since the last shower, only this morning, and the thought of being caught in the all-together when they made the shift left a bit to be desired.
With this in mind, he decided, purely out of curiosity, to see what Dobby had done with his study; it would be interesting to see if he'd managed any improvements, not that he'd miss that space at all. Halfway across the rotunda to his goal, he heard a plaintive mewling. Cally again. Eyes searching the space, he couldn't find her, though, and he stopped himself just in time from making a complete fool of himself by calling out to a deaf cat. He moved towards the centre and the fish tank to get a broader view when he noticed that the closer he got to it, the louder she yowled.
Stepping back from the fish tank, he could barely see her tail dangling down the back curve at the top. When he knocked on the glass, a pair of dainty white feet followed by her head peeped over. She tried another step, but started to slide and, with a squeak, she jumped back to where she'd been. If he squinted he could just see her shadow through the glass from below. "Silly chit. How did you ever get up there?" It must be at least eight feet tall, if not more. "This has got to be one for the records," he muttered. "You know, there are easier ways to get fish. Begging would have topped my list."
Cally had other ideas and, as he hesitated, she started howling up and down the scale.
"Ingrate," he muttered, her caterwaul, echoing off the walls and columns, overlapped to fill the space with a resounding, cacophonous cat chorus. He shook his head. "How one tiny, deaf cat can make so much bloody noise is beyond me. Give me minute to think about this, will you?"
How the hell was he supposed to get her down?
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The meeting had gone, so far, more or less as he'd expected. Albus' normal improvisation ensured it went on far longer than necessary and the others responded with desultory deliberation that often wandered far from the original topic. Severus sighed. Just once, it would be so pleasant if Albus used an agenda. Nothing fancy, but a planned list of discussion, faithfully followed, would earn him more time at home and less in this sometimes uncomfortable company. One could almost say it might border on delightful.
Tonight though, there was a tension in the room he'd not felt since before the end of the war, usually when someone went missing; he briefly wondered if that concern had ever extended to himself. Somehow he doubted it. He supposed the worried anticipation was to be expected; however, if Minerva stared at him one more time with that almost hopeful gleam in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking, he might just hex her into next month. He at least liked to plan ahead.
His brooding was interrupted with Albus' simple question, "Well?" spoken into a heavy silence he'd not noticed (but suspected had stretched long enough, he would be embarrassed to know the duration).
As slowly as he dared, he looked around the group of expectant faces already assuming they knew how he would choose. He sighed inside and braced himself for their displeasure. Well, one of them might be happy, but he wasn't as certain of that now as he'd been before; maybe he'd misunderstood, or perhaps she'd changed her mind. No matter, it was hers now whether she wanted it, or not. "I have broached the subject with Harry, who is supportive of my taking the position." Yes, there was that gleam again; she almost looked happy. Not that he'd ever much pleased her before, he did admit to a hint of regret that he would, once again, disappoint. But no, this was the right course. "However, there are a few insurmountable concerns, so it is with deep regret..."
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Even afterwards, he was never very clear on how he made it to the top of the tank. One moment, he was at its base, eyeing Cally's hissing fear, the next he was standing on top of it, his bare feet almost as surprised as he at the warmth emanating from the glass.
As he bent to pick her up, Cally leaped, landing heavily but unharmed, several feet away on the stone floor below. "Ungrateful wretch," he murmured, shutting out her prim meowing as he tried to find his own safe way down.
A fluttering whisper, running from the soles of his feet to the back of his head, stopped him, the sensation foreign, yet familiar. He closed his eyes, concentrating; with sudden certainty, he realised he was standing in the castle's centrum. Warm and huge, the power running through him encompassed the heart of Hogwarts.
A perilous weight constrained him, pressing heavily. Images, ages old, passed before him, his own presence insignificant in the longer eye of its immense history. He was a mere speck in the flow of its time, it whispered, an annoying speck to be sure, one it was not content to leave be. The weight grew heavier, threatening to buckle him to his knees. A thick, disorienting fog filled the rotunda until he stood in a space of white nothingness, not knowing what was up nor down. He stilled, afraid to make a false move.
Why would the castle be doing this? Just this morning it had been trying to please him, why was it now trying to fight him? There was feeling of fear behind it. Was it possible he wasn't the insignificant speck it was trying to convince him he was?
As the fog tried to infiltrate his mind, making it almost impossible to think, the weight on his body increased. He must be going in the right direction for it to expend this much effort to stop him. Habit saved him as he fell into his healer's trance, shutting out all the outside distractions, his way mentally clear.
Septimius' words returned to him. The old man had somehow known the answer to a question Harry had not dared voice: how was he supposed to make a difference? He had the means? No, not him necessarily, but something he bore, something he'd already spoken. Was it possible? Did the answer lie in their bond? What did it contain of such importance? Love - promises - commitment.
Commitment - another word the old man had said - one going both ways. A commitment very similar to what the castle was demanding Severus make. But wouldn't that place Severus in the position of having to choose at some point between him and the castle? Was this what the castle feared? That Harry would convince Severus to choose his interests over its own?
Feeling a bit foolish, he called out, "Is this the problem? You think I will stop him from serving? Bah! Little you know of him. I don't own him. But neither do you." Nor would it ever. "I would not have to convince him where his priorities lie. He already knows. I can't believe you chose him without knowing at least that much about him."
Silence greeted his question - not that he'd really expected a reply. The thing didn't talk, did it?
Was this what had happened to Albus over the years? Was this the basis of his eventual corruption? He'd subjugated himself and the vows he'd made, vows carrying a substantial weight of magic in themselves, to those of the castle? If so, Poppy had never stood a chance; she wasn't strong enough magically to prevent it - Albus had said as much when he talked of balance.
However, he was not Poppy. Could he change the rules? Could he change the demands the castle made? Could he balance the power it wielded over them both?
The answer rushed into him with the certainly of the absolute. Yes, he could. How, he wasn't quite certain, but he knew he had to try. Never in his life had he ever been in a position to help Severus obtain something he wanted - no, if he were honest with himself, something Severus needed, almost as much as he needed Harry. He would be damned if Severus took another path yet again for the sake of another. For him. That way led to as much disaster as unconditionally surrendering to the castle's demands.
Well, as a starting point, he could make certain nothing was 'unconditional'. The castle had to know he wasn't going anywhere, that there were two of them with whom it had to contend, that he would not bend, nor compromise, if it wouldn't do the same in return. A commitment which cut both ways. His only hope was that they could reach an amicable agreement. He hated confrontations.
The presence around him tightened as if it reading his intent. Voice raised, he decided to try the friendly approach. "You know he wants this. The gods only know why." Well, actually he did, but that knowledge was unimportant for this negotiation. He needed first to establish that he was in an equal position to bargain. "And you want him. This I understand better; he will make the best headmaster you've ever had. But we have a little problem. You and I, that is."
The surface beneath his feet grew almost unbearably hot. Annoyed, he gritted his teeth, reminding himself this was for Severus, and continued. "You're spoiled, you know that? Every headmaster has always let you do just as you pleased." He opened his arms and drew in his power in the same manner he did for a complicated healing, prepared to release it as slowly or as quickly as needed. "Well, I won't." He wrapped his defensive magic around him as much as a shield as a weapon. "We are not slaves; we set our own terms."
The fog thickened, its swirling depths a sibilant whisper, threatening his concentration. All right, perhaps he needed to take the not-so-friendly approach. He decided to test Septimius' advice, literally, and speak that which had already been spoken.
Raising his arms high above his head, Harry cried out, "Hear me well." Invoking their the bond, the formal vows, made less than a fortnight before, fell from his mouth unerringly with the same intent and import as the day he'd first uttered them. They were part of him, comprising the very definition of his soul now. At first they echoed dully into the white nothingness, and he despaired they would ever carry any real weight of their own, but midway, as he reached their heart, the centrum of the promises they'd made to one another, the words gathered momentum, filling the white nothingness as single drops of water will eventually fill a bucket over time.
He could feel their bond wrapping around his magic, bolstering it against the increasing pressure from the castle as their vow rippled through its defenses.
"Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit." Regardless of personal cost; protective, the deep magic within him rose to the surface, sparking painfully like fire across his skin.
With each word, each phrase, the bond's outward strength grew until he knew, with every fibre of his being, that it and their faith together were more than the castle could ever muster against them alone. The bond's magic spread out from him, his mortal flesh too small to contain it anymore, until with the final words, "Unus iam sumus," it reached beyond him to embrace the castle's magic, equal to equal, a token of cooperation, not subjugation.
Yet it fought him, blind to what he was offering. Perhaps it was time to point out the obvious. Defiantly, he called out, "These are my vows, my troth to him, my mate, my life. You want him to commit his life to you in the same manner he and I have committed our lives to each other? Are you willing to make such a promise in return? To him? To us?"
With a whooshing protest, the room soon cleared, the fog gone. Score one for the Gryffindor.
"Didn't think so," he muttered, as the sheer force of his will, augmented, yet held in abeyance by their bond, radiated sheets of magic rising unchecked. The magic pressing on him increased; had he not been warded, he would have been crushed. Its resistance wearing, he began to question whether a compromise was even possible. Unwavering, though, he tried one more time. "I'm really trying to be patient here. Is it too much to ask that you play fair?" Then he played his trump card. "You know, he's going to say no unless you compromise. And before you get all pissy, that decision was your doing, not mine. Your little take-over this morning cinched his resolve. So do you think we can at least talk about this?"
The castle rocked on its foundations.
He supposed that was as good an answer as any. Head held high as if addressing the heavens themselves, he shouted, "All right, we do this the Harry way, damn you. You want Severus? Well, that makes two of us; if you want him, you are going to have to go through ME first." He threw his challenge into its heart. "Hear well MY terms: I love my husband just as he is; you shall not to change him to suit your needs, nor what you perceive to be mine - you get him - and me - together - as we come now and as we will become, growing together. Not by some false definition you have of what he, or I, or we should be. We are bound as one, I will not tolerate you pulling that asunder!"
The castle immediately responded. Sparks few from the globe, swirling and flashing as they rose, winding around the bond's magic, tightening as a noose, trying to choke it out of existence. But instead of besting it, their bond gently absorbed the castle's magic, merged it within itself until the two magics became one, making them together nearly invincible.
And yet it did not yield; he could feel its resistance still. Shaking his head, he pushed their immutable magic out to surround the heart of Hogwarts. "You will not meddle with him, or me, or our relationship - ever."
Deeper, farther, to the very foundation he pushed it. "And if you EVER fuck with our bond again..." the walls wavered and glowed white-hot as if heated by the fires of hell "...I swear to the misbegotten gods who made you that I will personally raze you to bedrock until every last particle is consumed by my wrath."
Panting with the effort, he vowed, "Hos te promitto. This is my promise to you." The castle shook and shuddered with his commitment. "Now? Are we understood? Do we finally have an agreement?"
Reluctantly, but inevitably, the presence pressing down on him receded until all that remained was a feeling of respectful acquiescence. With no joy in his vanquishment, or its unequivocal surrender, Harry relented, pulling back his power until he was just another wizard standing on top of a huge glass globe in the centrum of a mouldy old Scottish castle. "It's about bloody time. I don't know who's more stubborn, you or me."
With a petulant shimmy, it groaned.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit your grousing. It's a good deal and you know it."
Far from up above him he heard a helium voice cry jubilantly, "You tell 'im, 'arry!" and looked up in time to see a tiny stone figure flashing out of sight.
Feeling a pleasant stirring in their bond, Harry laughed triumphantly, and with a muttered spell, jumped as light as a feather off the globe onto the stone floor below.
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"...so it is with deep regret, I must de..." Severus stopped, half-rising in alarm as the castle began to shake and shudder, sending a slew of gewgaws from Albus' desk and shelves rolling to the floor.
His disappointed frown morphing into a bemused smile, Albus' eyes glazed as if listening to someone far away. After a long while, with an derisive chuckle, he muttered, "Not my problem. You chose him, you live with the consequences," even as he held up a hand, waving the others back into their seats.
Head cocked in a mirror image of Albus', Severus' face changed from regretful seriousness to one of supreme satisfaction as, with a low wicked laugh, he murmured smugly, "Hogwarts, may I introduce the Potter half of Snape."
With an almost petulant shake, the walls ceased to move. His sardonic smile reminiscent of a certain green-eyed man of their mutual acquaintance, Severus levelled glittering eyes on his mentor. "All right, Albus, I'll take that first lesson now..."
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The room was just as dreary as he remembered, although the cheerily burning fire in the grate helped a bit. It appeared Dobby had been here also; the dark wood and glass cabinets were fully stocked and labeled in much the same order as they had been in his old study. A quick check revealed a few of Severus' more obscure potions as well; at least they would have them to hand instead of having to trudge all the way to the lab's storage room. Otherwise, the room stood empty; perhaps they could find something to suit tomorrow. There was certainly no point in doing anything else to it tonight.
He was almost out of the room when a small 'pop' stopped him in his tracks. Whirling around, wand drawn, he relaxed with a smile when he saw a new desk in the middle of the room. Half-round and dainty with a centre apron drawer and carved spindly legs, it fit neatly in the centre of the space, its front facing the entry to the room. As he turned in place, trying to find Dobby, a cherry red, leather desk chair, the kind one could roll around and tip back, materialised in the inner curve of the desk. A small wooden tambour with four drawers followed, topped by a faerie-light lamp, but there was still no sign of the house-elf.
He had to try it out. Sitting at the desk was lovely, the chair soft yet firm, the desk's smooth leather surface cool to the touch and perfect to write on for hours. Even Cally approved as she jumped nimbly to the top and sprawled across the left side, purring. Bent over, he explored the tambour, its contents complete with parchment and fine quills and ink as well as a silver fountain pen similar to the one Severus had bought in Hana.
Closing the last drawer, he stopped midway as strong magic flowed around him. Hogwarts magic. Straightening, he was about to shout out that he'd thought they'd made a bargain, when the oddest sensation tickled through him and he had to smile. Gleeful smugness was the only word for it; the castle was pleased with something and he couldn't decide what disturbed him more - that it had feelings, or that he could sense them. Regardless, he could only gape as the floor chuckled and the wall between him and the rotunda curved outward. Stretching and thickening, almost bubbling, large chunks pushed in and others pulled out until with a short shudder of completion it resembled nothing less than an ancient black tumbled stone wall one could still find sometimes in the mountains of Hana. A diffuse golden light filled the space, making soft shadows in the ridges of the rocks.
He gingerly touched several of the rough, pocked stones, with their spots of white and celadon lichen, finding them warm as if kissed by the late afternoon sun and moist as if fresh from a mountain rain; he almost expected to see a chameleon sunning itself. He'd no more envisioned the types of plants he would want for the little nooks and crannies when they appeared, growing rapidly. Dainty mountain and turnip ferns growing out of the living rock vied for space with tiny yellow and pink mountain orchids their thick tenacious roots clinging to the vertical faces until the entire wall bloomed, its scent fresh and green and alive.
He'd stopped looking for Dobby some time ago. He knew who was responsible and what it meant; this was as close to their other home as he was going to get for quite a while. As placations went, it bordered on amazing: if this was the first day's accomplishment, what marvels would the intervening years bring?
He couldn't wait to find out.
Nor could he exactly dispute the castle's elation; after all, he'd felt much the same way when Severus had committed his life to him. But he had to wonder if this meant the castle would become an intimate part of their relationship. That was rather perturbing. He looked up to the ribbed ceiling with a jaundiced eye. "You bloody well better not peek," he muttered, swearing the thing was laughing at him. He made a mental note to ask Poppy tomorrow how she'd managed that small detail.
Shaking himself out of his speculation, he made his way out of the room, thinking Severus should be home soon.
Home. Such a broad concept.
Standing in the rotunda, he watched the fish swimming in their globe as happy as fish ever get. Back and forth, darting into the rocks, under the leaves of the swaying water plants, nipping at their companions, their bright scales flashed different colours depending on where the light struck them, or how deep they dove, or how much shadow they hid under. Staring at them, he realised people weren't all that different. They occupied their own worlds, rarely bestirring themselves much beyond what they knew and controlled. Pity really, especially when one considered there was so much more out there than one little tank, but as long as they didn't see it, or feared it, how could they know what they were missing?
He tried to envision his life, stuck in the same place, treading the same worn routine day after day, year after year. How awful would that be? He shuddered, suddenly understanding what had happened to McGonagall over the years. The mechanisms she'd created during two wars to control her own destiny, to give it safe boundaries, had carried over into this time of deceptive peace. Sheltered by Hogwarts, she was stuck in a rut of her own making, forgetting how to live outside the rules, how to truly be a Gryffindor. He was also quite certain she wouldn't believe him if he told her.
He smiled - well, grinned actually, if his mischievous reflection in the globe was any indication. Thinking of her relationship with Severus, he suspected the next few years were going to be a bit unsettling for her, but, oh! she would feel so alive when his husband finally woke her out of her stupor. And wake her he would, as well as the others - shake their sensibilities more than likely. Severus needed them, needed their stability and diversity to keep his brooding nature from miring in the morass of his responsibilities.
A flash of bright colour drew his attention back to the fish. Cruising slowly, the smallest yellow tang hugged the sides, its scales magnified to impossible proportions whenever they pressed against the glass. It finally faced him, hovering as beady black eyes stared straight ahead; he could almost hear it sigh, if fish did such things. Ah, an aquatic maverick, wanting to see what was beyond? Reaching out to touch the tank, he'd thought it would flee, but instead it came closer until its mouth on the end of the ridiculously long snout made a round 'O' under his finger. He wanted to tell it to be patient; a being could only occupy one space at a time, so if one wanted to see many places, all one had to do was move oneself somewhere else, but he didn't pass that particular cruelty to a creature bound for life to this one tank, nor did he mention there were serious risks in swimming free.
He looked around him. He should heed his own advice. All things being relative, he supposed he got a better deal than the yellow tang. As this was just one place out of an infinite number of possibilities, he had to ask himself - what difference did it make where their globe resided, as long as he and Severus were swimming in the same tank?
He could almost hear the snort when the image of two squids playfully chasing each other through the water crossed his mind's eye; he didn't turn when the thinker of such droll thoughts slipped strong arms around him from behind. Instead, he leant back into the loved body to give those arms more of him to hold. Sultry velvet whispered in his ear, "Bravo, my love. Well done."
"I could say the same," he replied, sending an image of his new wall garden, for which he got a gentle nip to his jaw. Amused, he asked, "So, what does all this make us?"
"Well loved."
Not bad. In fact, quite nice actually, although that could be because a pair of familiar lips were moistly travelling ever so slowly down his neck while the hands wrapped around his waist slid down to hold his hips. Very nice indeed - and an invitation he would never refuse.
Not much later the rotunda stood empty as two joyous souls, engaged in more loving pursuits elsewhere, gave no thought whatsoever to the colourful fish playing contentedly, both oblivious in their own little worlds.
And the castle stood alone, guarding them all.
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TBC in Chapter Fifty : Epilogue : Twenty Years Later : Chapter Two : Hiding Under the Ninth Earth : The Sacred and the Profane