The room had once seemed like a haven.
The long green drapes that hung from the windows he once had been thankful for as a symbol of how the outside world was separate from this little slice of non-reality. Now they seemed oppressive and dark. Harry curled up tighter to the body next to him.
It was all ending now. The past eighteen years of his life had led to this night, and the tenseness of it had bought on insomnia. Severus had tried to make it as normal as possible; they'd had a nice dinner in Hogsmeade, shared a bottle of wine, and they'd gone to bed. Just like any other night.
Except this one. This was the night where the final battle would occur. He'd been given a summons by the Dark Lord offering a duel, and he was to go alone – this was the thing that had scared him most. Throughout his entire life, he'd never been truly alone. He'd always had some company or help. And now he had to end this by himself, with no help from Hermione, Dumbledore or even Severus.
Severus had been such a great help to him over the past year. No-one could have ever imagined the pair getting so close. It started out as training sessions proposed by the Order, as Snape, having been integrated with the Dark Lord more than anyone else there, had been deemed the best person to teach Harry all he could about the Dark Arts. Much to both Snape and Harry's protestations, it was decided Harry should move in with his teacher, living, eating, and sleeping near him. As a result, outside of the lessons, the first five weeks had been conducted in absolute silence, with Harry even accioing salt from the other side of the table rather than ask his host to pass it. This eventually came to a head one balmy summer evening – one which turned out to be the best of his life – when after a long and unsuccessful lesson, Harry grew frustrated and blew the heads of several nearby primroses.
Snape had stormed over, grabbed the wand from Harry's hand, and glowered at him. "Listen, Potter, you pus-globule waste of existence. I'm not doing this for my own good, you know. The silence, I can take. In fact, I rather enjoy it as it makes you less noticeable. The bad table manners, I can cope with. However, sleepwalking late at night and then destroying my garden I will not stand." Harry had been slightly bemused over his irritation at the failed lesson, had told Snape he was unaware of his penchant for decorative flowers. That had earned him a smack on the head. "I need those for potions, you ungrateful idiot!"
The smack was all he could take. After years inside Hogwarts walls of not retaliating, and taking every single hit and punch that came his way, had it been from a tree, a friend or an enemy, years of pent up aggression suddenly overtook him, and he had shoved Snape hard.
What had followed was still blurry in his memory. It had been a fight, he was sure about that, but certainly not a wizardly one. It was what Molly Weasley, with an eye-roll and nod in the twins' direction, would have referred to as fisticuffs. How they ended up rolling around in the mud of the destroyed garden fighting for dominance, and how the fight suddenly slipped from their minds as their lips meeting in the soil stained garden seemed to be the most important thing in the world was anyone's guess.
Harry had always imagined himself not to be romantic as some, but when he broached the subject later to Severus of the kiss being akin to cupid's bow striking them, he had been regarded with a long look and a slowly raised eyebrow.
Since, they had been surprisingly inseparable, discovering more in common than they had ever imagined. The lessons had gone much more smoothly once their relationship had been established, and Harry liked to think he had learned more than just magic from the older man. It was the sort of relationship where there was no need to declare love, to say "I love you," morning and night. It was just there. Comfortable and routine. He'd found the asinine comments and snide asides which once tortured him could now be considered amusing and the greasy locks and hooked nose didn't seem to matter any more.
Of course, everyone else had had something to say about their new found love, from the Daily Prophet to Molly Weasley. Ron and Hermione, both training to be aurors, hadn't taken the news too well but had come round eventually. It didn't seem to matter so much now what people thought because he could always rely on Severus to understand him, and no-one could get at him when he was in this room. This was their place.
Except when the summons had flown in through the window courtesy of Hedwig. Being a fluffy white barn owl, she considered the Owlery with its dowdy brown inhabitants to be almost insufferable and spent as much time as she could perched on the windowsill of Snape and Harry's room. Harry had opened the summons with no idea of its portentous contents, and had stood staring at the parchment for almost ten minutes before Severus noticed and went to take it from him. If Severus' skin could have gone any paler, it would have been when reading the letter.
Harry's eyes hadn't moved from the spot where the letter had been. "This means an end to everything," he'd said.
Snape had left the room for a long while after that. He'd disappeared into the bedroom, the door shutting with an ominous click behind him, and there had been sounds of things being thrown around and broken. After a while, Harry had ventured in to find his lover in the middle of a mess of books, papers and furniture, his head in his hands. He'd gone to sit on the floor beside him and put his head on his lap.
That had been a week ago. Now tonight was the night where everything would change, and he was more frightened than he'd ever been. Even though the room was comfortably warm and he was sharing body heat, he shivered.
A hand snaked further down his thigh Harry felt the shift in the bedcovers as Severus moved so he was leaning his head on his elbow. Harry turned and noted his concerned expression.
"I didn't think either of us would sleep," he said in his velveteen voice, a voice that Harry had once loathed but now found comforting- even homely. Almost.
"Severus…" Harry hesitated. Even with the situation between them now, it was unwise to admit weakness in front of the Potions Master without expecting a good ribbing. "I'm scared."
Lips gently touched his and the hand on his thigh moved to rest comfortably on his chest. "I know." Severus didn't look Harry in the eye, but the younger man kept his gaze and brushed long, black hair out of his lover's eyes. Severus glanced up towards the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's almost time."
There was a silence between them. Harry wanted to tell Severus how much he loved him, how much he understood everything, to thank him for the time they had had, but it seemed so absolute, so final. The words stuck in his throat. "It's not fair," he whispered.
"To sacrifice? To give up for the sake of others? It's a very noble deed."
Harry looked up towards his lover and took hold of the lithe hand desperately. "I had so many other things to do! I want more time!"
Severus met his eyes for a moment and saw himself reflected in Harry's pupils. He regarded him fondly, and with an openness Harry hadn't seen before. Severus reached down and brushed his lips against Harry's, gently at first, then more probing. Harry reached up to stroke the back of his partner's neck, gently nibbling his lower lip as he did so. Their tongues danced on familiar ground, desperately, needily.
Severus broke away. "And you shall have it, Harry."
The younger man looked quizzical. "What?" Snape produced his wand quickly, pointing it at Harry's body. "Severus? What are you-"
"Immobulus."
No! the voice inside Harry screamed as he fought against the charm. No, no no no!
Severus looked down at the prone body of his lover. He had to be quick, Harry had become more and more adept over the summer of breaking immobilisation spells. Severus stoked the hair back from Harry's forehead and kissed him lightly.
"I couldn't let you do this, Harry."
Harry pushed harder and harder at the boundaries of the spell. Goddamn it! He thought - finite incantatum, finite incantatum, FINITE INCANTATUM.
Severus collected his clothes from the floor. "You have your whole life ahead of you. I couldn't let you sacrifice it. You have everything to live for. I just have you. I've taught you enough that you need to never fear anyone again." He leant down on the bed beside his lover. Harry's eyes projected anger at him. "Don't hate me for this, Harry. One day you'll fall in love again, with some nice young man-" he sighed as the anger in Harry's eyes increased "-or woman, settle down, and you'll get your fairytale ending." He kissed Harry's fingers. "Let's face it, who heard of Little Red Riding Hood running off with the Big Bad Wolf?"
Severus stood and went to stand beside the fireplace. He removed some floo powder from his pocket and threw it into the dying fire, noticing Harry's feet starting to wiggle. Clever boy, thought the potions master. I've taught him too well.
"Don't think of following me, Harry. I'm putting the fire out as soon as I get to the other end." He took one last look at the prone body of his lover, deciding whether now was the time to say what he'd wanted to for a long time. "I….well….." silence. "you….you know."
Harry managed to break the charm just as his lover stepped into the fire. His wild emerald eyes met Snape's wide obsidian ones….
"DON'T GO!" he shouted, just as Snape's disappeared. He raced across the room to the fire, but even as he got to it, it had spluttered and died out. "Don't go…" he said quietly, almost to himself. He sunk to the cold stone floor. "I love you. I love you" he whispered, over and over again. No-one answered.
Fin