Walking a Fine Line

by I Got Tired of Waiting

COMPLETE :: SLASH :: Chapter 03 of Hiding Under the Ninth Earth : after Epithalamium :: A Pensieve accident gives Severus a whole new perspective of his husband & of himself & makes him ask the question: Who are the victims?

5. Where the Past Meets the Future

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

Part V : Where the Past Meets the Future
13 February 2023 (Continued)

The morning staff meeting long finished, Severus stood staring at the fire, the cup of tea in his hand gone cold as he reflected on a time he'd thought long behind him. Ten years, a decade, another lifetime ago, the span of time didn't matter when a single afternoon, spent pandering to the wealthy instead of tending his own concerns, still felt as close as yesterday. His face burning, he winced, the memory of his culpability still twisting his insides with a mortification he'd not experienced since his juvenile days at Hogwarts. Now that he knew in full the details of the morning preceding his folly, he realised anew just how close he'd come to losing everything defining his life today.

That he hadn't known then didn't feel like much of an excuse now.

Setting the cup aside, he sat heavily in a chair, letting loose that particular day's memories. He'd been in his old office working at his desk, a huge imposing affair he'd long since discarded. While reviewing his notes for an imminent meeting with some Society mavens, from whom he'd wanted private funding and support for the adults' schools...

...Harry's head popped into the fireplace. "Severus? Do you have a moment?"

"Not now, Harry. Can't this wait?" he snarled, not bothering to look up.

"Ah, well, I need to--that is to say--it's rather import--"

"Have you forgot I've a meeting in--" he threw his pen down in exasperation and checked the clock "--ten minutes. Scarcely enough time for me to memorise my presentation let alone have a chat with you. If we don't get that funding..." He let it hang, wishing the brat well away so he could get back to work.

"Um, all right, Severus," Harry replied hesitantly. "It can wait a bit. Maybe before dinner?"

Grabbing the fallen pen, he tapped it impatiently on the table. "I've a staff meeting then and, before you ask, the Minister is coming by immediately after dinner for some such or other." The pen twirled in impatient fingers. "Which reminds me, don't wait up; I need to brief Moody about the new security plans and I could only fit him in late, after Arthur, not that he minds a bit." He mentally ran over his schedule. "Breakfast, perhaps--we can talk then, or if you want privacy, I'm free afterwards; I can give you a half hour or so before my ten o'clock."

"Tomorrow morning?" Harry asked plaintively.

Noting the bowed head and heavy sigh, Severus bit back a sharp retort for such childish petulance. Surely Harry knew how important the new school was; after all, it had been his idea. He was about to point that out when Harry raised his head, his face calmly composed as he spoke briskly, "I'll have to check my appointments; I'll let Dobby know if I'm available after breakfast."

"That's sensible," he remarked, relieved Harry finally understood; he didn't have the energy for another one of their interminable arguments. Turning to his papers, the feeling of time running out made his skin itch as his concentration returned to his task. Absently he added, "Thank you for being so accommodating," but he said it to an empty room; Harry had already severed the connection.

Disturbed by Harry's abruptness, he sagged back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Time, he just needed more time. He'd already tried--with disastrous results--using a Time-Turner to stretch his days, and the Orrery was of no use for this sort of thing; it wouldn't allow him to double back on himself while in the castle. And yet, with the school's expansion, the list of things needing his attention never ended. He'd always been grateful for Harry's compromises with their schedules, but ruefully admitted he couldn't remember the last time he'd told him so. Perhaps he could spare a few days next month for just the two of them--in Hana, maybe? Suddenly longing to share warm, quiet sunshine with Harry, far away from these insistent demands, he eagerly flipped through his calendar looking for a suitable date but was interrupted by the arrival of his guests. Standing to greet Mrs. Parkinson and her cronies, he regretfully closed the book; it would have to wait.

Near midnight, his meetings done at last, Severus returned to their quarters exhausted. He paused in the Rotunda when he saw a piece of parchment taped to the fish tank. Lifting it to the light, he read its two simple words, "I'm booked." He didn't think much of it, other than crossing Harry off his mental list of appointments for the next morning.

He entered their bedchamber, but stopped cold when he realised the bed was empty and still made. Damn it! He was too tired for Harry's sulky games. Still, with a sense of uneasiness, he ordered the castle, "Take me to Harry." When he remained where he was, the first icy tendrils of panic trickled down his spine. Harry had left the castle? He next tried the spell Albus had given him, but his vision filled with nothing but a grey haze.

His heart pounding, he raced up the ramp to the Orrery and hastily set the interval for when he'd been in his meeting, directing it straight to their quarters. Searching through every room, Severus stopped the image when he found Harry in their bedchamber. He could only hug himself as he watched his husband pack a small bag, the despair in his face harshly outlined by the bright sunlight filtering through the tall open windows. Harry pocketed his things and, after a longing glance around the room, grabbed a small piece of foolscap from the top of the dresser. He quickly left the room, stopping in the Rotunda to stick it to the tank's glass with shaking hands. Smoothing the wrinkles left from his tight clutch, he murmured, "I can't do this anymore." Raising his head to the domed ceiling, Harry shouted, "Do you hear me, Severus? I just can't do this anymore!" When the echoes of his anguish had been replaced by deathly silence, Harry turned on his heel and walked out the door without a backward glance.

Gods, how Harry had paid for his inattention.

He still cringed, easily remembering now the fragile edge to Harry's voice, the sharp sarcasm in his tone at the end of his fire-call. Qualities he'd not even noticed then, nor that Harry was missing later at dinner. In fact, he'd set aside the entire exchange--until he'd found the crumpled note.

Standing from the chair, Severus swiftly left the seating area. His guilt as raw now as it had been then, he opened the file room where, from a high shelf in the back, he removed a wooden box. Within were packets of personal letters he'd received over the last sixteen years. Digging blindly under the top layer, his hand unerringly grasped a small bundle tied neatly with a black ribbon.

Taking it with him to his favourite chair, he stared at the four letters he held, the crisp parchment crackling under his hands. Perhaps he should let this be and concentrate more on what he was going to say and do when Harry arrived.

Or maybe, now that he owned Harry's memories of that day as well, he should make the events following his own folly as fresh as that which had preceded it. He opened the first letter.

Severus,

First off, Harry's here in Hana. Kalani and I went out to the house when the wards rang and found him sleeping on the lanai. He looks OK, no damage or anything and I don't think he heard us.

Since I've never seen either of you out here alone, I can only assume you've had a fight and since I also know firsthand the hurt a bonded couple can cause when they're really pissed off with each other, I thought I'd let you know in case Harry doesn't.

We'll keep an eye out for him, so don't worry about his safety, but for now, we'll just leave him to it. Probably be better if you did, too.

If you need someone to talk to, though, the door's always open and the bat knows the way. Take care,

Ben

The Owl had come a day late, accompanied with a note of apology from Pete for the delay caused by a storm on O'ahu. By the time it had arrived, he'd been frantic, his shame burning a path through his heart as much as his feet had worn a track in his carpet. When Harry had failed to come home the next day, he'd worked his way through Harry's routine starting with Colch, who'd told him Harry hadn't returned to the hospital since the morning before. Severus had never trusted the man, and this time had been no different; he'd obviously been hiding something.

Now he knew what the bastard hadn't said.

Shortly after he'd received Ben's letter, he received a late-night Owl from Harry. He'd held it for quite a while before opening it with shaking hands.

Severus,

I'm in Hana and, assuming you've actually noticed, I'm sorry if I've caused you any worry.

I'm not, however, sorry that I left; I need this time away to think about where I go from here, not only from you, but everything else as well. I just can't do this anymore and can't help thinking that sometimes it's best to stop fighting the inevitable and move on.

Harry

Severus was--as his American friends phrased it--a basketcase. Thinking Harry was going make his absence permanent, his first impulse was to rush off to Hana to be with him, to apologise and maybe even grovel if that was what Harry needed to forgive him. However, after a thorough harangue from both Cerise and Poppy for his 'reprehensible behaviour and unacceptable inattention towards someone you purportedly love', they adjured him to stay put at Hogwarts, maintaining that he only wanted to join Harry to make himself feel better. Perhaps they'd been right, but at the time it had been difficult to accept that, if he wanted Harry back, he had to leave him alone.

As Cerise had so aptly said it, "The damage is already done, Severus, and there's nothing you can do to make it right until Harry decides what's best for him, where he belongs. I strongly suggest you take this solitary time he's given you to establish, once and for all, Harry's place in your life and what you're going to do to ensure that such an avoidable rift never happens again. A love like yours only happens once in a lifetime; see well to its continuing longevity."

So he waited, already knowing where Harry belonged. With him. He didn't want to think about it anymore; Harry's apparent abdication of their marriage made the matter urgent. In desperation, he wrote Ben. In the long parchment, written in the depths of another sleepless night, he'd spilled the whole sordid mess, taking full blame in the matter; he'd not needed Poppy and Cerise's rather succinct summary of his shortcomings to know he'd treated Harry abominably.

Ben's reply, which arrived two evenings later, gave him hope that perhaps he'd misread Harry's message, that his husband's words might have been hastily born out of hurt and anger rather than any lasting desire to leave him.

Severus:

Harry is fine. He sits out on the beach most of the day (once in the rain) and sleeps on the lanai. The only two he's talking with are Kalani and Joseph right now, although he's been civil, if a little distant, whenever I pop by. Mom's making sure he eats and Kahea's kept the house tidy although he's rarely in it. Kalani only hints at it (and Joseph is still tighter than a clam) but I think it's safe to say that there's something else disturbing Harry more than just your 'neglect' (as you call it).

Speaking of which, if it helps any, Kalani and I went through a similar period in our marriage. While my distraction was different, the end result was the same--I forgot Kalani was the most important part of my life and I took him and his affections very much for granted. He left me for a month and frankly, if Malia hadn't kicked his ass, I still think he might never have returned.

You said in your letter that you'd 'disregarded and ignored Harry dreadfully'. Given your unimaginable workload and your normal attention to detail, that's probably true, but given what you didn't say, it's not your real problem. You need to realise that the prioritization of loved-ones first is a blessing, not a curse, something that brings calm into chaos. When we lose sight of our true priorities, time shrinks into a choking bind that leaves us flustered and irritated and bereft. Sound familiar? But when we do what we ought, somehow time stretches in a positive manner giving us the wherewithal to do both; I like to think of it as an emotional Time-Turner. I can hear you snorting from here. I know, I was sceptical, too, but when it happens--well, you just have to do it to understand.

And soon. The thing they never tell you is that a marriage bond can fade over time if both parties don't work to maintain it. While it never disappears entirely, it does require almost constant affirmation and affection to keep it healthy. As my Aunty told me when Kalani left, it's a two-way street and one person, even with the best will in the world, cannot hold up both ends of a relationship. Harry doesn't strike me as the martyr type, so it's understandable he grew tired of keeping up his end alone. However, if the bond is weakened, you can't take all the blame; you're both at fault. Your neglect is as detrimental as Harry's relinquishment.

That Harry came out here 'to think' is a good thing to my mind. If it makes you feel any better, Kalani says Harry obviously still loves you deeply, and is just as miserable without you as you seem to be without him, but there's this 'other thing' just below the surface as well that keeps him here. Frankly, I think he came out here more for that than the problems in your marriage. Or maybe circumstances just brought things to a head. Whatever it is, he's not saying and there are times when even Kalani's presence isn't welcome; Harry sits alone a lot.

Nothing Kalani has said makes me think the situation can't be resolved between you. I agree with Poppy and Cerise, you need to stay there and leave Harry to it by himself. Let him work it out in his mind while you work it out in yours--as long as you're both thinking, there's hope. As my Aunty is fond of saying, forgiveness is wasted on someone who isn't repentant; from your letter, I gather you're more than willing to make changes to rebuild your relationship, and I suspect he is, too. Just give it some time. Hard that, ya?

Oh, and I should probably warn you; Kalani told Harry that you'd written me--no, no, not the details, just that you were very upset and the reasons you didn't follow him to Hana--but what's important is that he says Harry was very thoughtful afterwards. We'll continue keeping an eye out for him, keep him safe for you, for as long as it takes. Hopefully, he'll return soon.

Take care of yourself, my friend. It wouldn't do for Harry to come home to a wreck, now would it? And should you need to talk further, you know where to find me.

Ben

PS. Joseph says, "Hello," and to, "Take the damned sleeping potion! There's no sense making yourself sick on top of everything else." Wise man, my father-in-law.

Severus smiled. For one who'd been so alone as a child and outcast as a youth, to have such a friend as Ben still seemed unreal, a privilege he felt at times he'd not earned. His closest friend, Ben was the peer to whom he could speak without fear of censure or ridicule, a man whose opinion and insight he'd learned to trust. He'd never taken him up on that offer, but that it had been made with such sincerity in the first place, sealed their life-friendship. Even to this day, Ben frequently gave him a perspective he himself could never own. It was a pity he couldn't just Portkey over to Hana and talk to him this morning but, other than the pleasure of his company, he knew the trip would be pointless; Ben couldn't help him now, not this time.

After folding and stowing the second note, he opened the third, staring at the thick black writing. What had flowed off his pen so easily to Ben remained firmly stuck within him when he'd tried to tell Harry the same things. Hours he'd spent on it, the ground around him littered with his failed attempts. Time in which his thoughts had changed from merely explaining to fully understanding why. In one clear moment right before another empty dawn, he'd painfully realised he'd done something he'd thought he'd taken such care not to do: he'd broken one of their vows, the one that said he would never forsake Harry for another. He supposed, looking back on it now, that he could be partially forgiven in not equating a 'thing' like Hogwarts as 'another', but the unvarnished truth was he'd sacrificed his mate and their relationship on the altar of his career, and they'd both been hurt by his preoccupation. From there, all the unnecessary verbiage of his earlier missives easily distilled into the purest four lines he'd ever penned:

Harry,

I miss you.

I need you.

I love you.

Pignus meus audi: Non te desebo ut alium habere. Please! Come home.

Severus

Two more days passed with no word, a total of ten days in which he'd tried to stave the mounting depression by immersing himself in Hogwarts business. Failing miserably, he learned another valuable lesson; Hogwarts survived just fine without his constant meddling. Quite a blow to his ego, but one he refused to ignore. In the long hours he waited, he began formulating the structure he had in place today, one that had him shedding self-imposed duties to other shoulders more able to bear them.

While the days had been difficult, the nights were nigh on impossible, filled with restless dreams--when he could fall asleep at all. His body had ached for the warmth of a tousled head trustingly nestled on his shoulder, a loving tangle of limbs, the gentle press of lips that somehow defined him and made him real. His soul started unravelling without the ties binding it. At times, he would wake, shuddering with the fading loss as the so-real phantom lover comforting him, disappeared with the sleep he blinked out of his eyes. Cold and miserable without Harry, he'd moved into the sitting room, hoping that with a new place, he could find some solace in his solitude. He didn't succeed; his dreams still haunted him, yet he refused respite with his potions, the lonely awareness his penance paid.

On the third night after he'd written Harry, he'd fallen asleep at the desk in his study. Waking abruptly, the skin on his neck tingling from a phantom kiss, he saw an Owl had been delivered and left on the worn wood surface near his hands. When he'd eagerly pulled the unfolded parchment out of its envelope and saw his own letter returned, his heart nearly stopped with dread. So this was Harry's answer? Filled with despair, he'd shakily turned the parchment over, unable to read his own sorry pleas for clemency.

Harry had replied on the back:

Severus,

You do well to remind me of our vows, so let me add: Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit. Semper te amabo ad integumenta mortis et ulterior.

I promised you forever, and I won't break my troth; I'm coming home.

Your Harry

PS. Go to bed, love; you'll only wake up stiff and sore if you stay in that chair all night.

His heart taking wing, he'd laughed with the joy. Then the import of the postscript hit him; jumping out of his seat, he'd knocked his chair over. Pelting across the Rotunda, he'd stopped only long enough to throw their bedchamber door open. At the bang of the heavy wood against the wall, he dimly saw a tousled head peep over the covers.

He'd not been dreaming this time; his Harry was home.

Stopping only long enough to toe off his shoes, he slid under the covers, the outstretched arms awaiting him had enfolded him fast to the lover and mate he'd so sorely missed. A whispered, "Scratchy," and a murmured spell left him bare to mould skin tightly to skin. Limbs entwined eagerly, lips found each other in the dark and, although the ensuing loving was frantic in its urgency, no better joining had they ever had as their bond renewed, weaving them into one whole again.

Severus was home, too.

Over the following years, they'd both worked hard to make it work. Taking his promise seriously, he'd cut back on his time spent administering Hogwarts; surrendering his control, to trust and delegate had not come easily, but eventually he'd learned not to hover too much. Now he wondered how he'd ever done it in the first place. For his part, Harry eschewed the unrealistic demands of the hospitals and his patients, setting his own pace by opening the clinic and taking on Jed to lighten the load when they got too busy. It worked. Hogwarts ran smoothly now and they spent as much time as they could together, whether alone or enjoying the blessings of friends, both here and in Hana. Their still-busy schedules became something to laugh over rather than fight about.

Ben had the right of it; time really did flex when one paid attention to the truly important things. A hard lesson, to be sure, but when had he ever learned anything worthwhile the easy way?

But now, given the memory he'd experienced last night, he knew the 'other' reason why Harry had left, what he'd wanted, no, needed to talk to him about. The shame again cut deeply as he remembered how preoccupied he'd been, how callously he'd dismissed what in hindsight could be easily seen as a cry for help, as rare then as now. Thinking of his spouse's pleas the other night, his body's unmistakable messages, hinting of a newer, similar internal turmoil, he suspected there was more of the same coming.

And he'd be damned if he failed Harry this time.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Pignus meus audi: Non te desebo ut alium habere.
Hear my pledge: I will never forsake you for another.

Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit. Semper te amabo ad integumenta mortis et ulterior.
I will steadfastly stand by your side regardless of personal cost. I will love you always to the veils of death and beyond.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed his 'pots and pots of tea' after Severus had dashed off to breakfast in the Great Hall. He smiled smugly, thinking that, while Severus was a stickler for punctuality, he almost always ran late for his morning repast, a fact that rarely escaped the staff's amused and sometimes vocally ribald attention.

Knowing Severus always took report after breakfast, Harry leisurely made his ablutions, opting for older, almost shabby robes rather than proper attire; after all, he was only going to Severus' office and no one else would see him. Besides, he wanted to be comfortable and the butter softness of the worn fabric against his bare skin felt wonderful. Given the odd nagging in the back of his head and a queer sinking feeling in his gut, which told him the resumption of his memories would not be pleasant, he felt he needed every comfort he could muster.

Remembering his promise to Severus the night before, Harry went into the Rotunda and activated the Loquarium, setting it to the limits of its local range as he called for Jed in Hogsmeade. Luckily he was still at home, his opening, "Harry, are you all right?" a puzzler.

"Of course I am, Jed. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Are you joking? After what happened in the clinic on Friday?"

Clinic? Hazy images hovered on the edge of his consciousness, teasing him with their vague uneasiness. A shudder ran down his body as intermittent flashes of inexplicable violence--Sheila slumped to the floor, a dead man, a puddle of blood--echoed his restless dreams of the night before.

The sharp, "Harry, you all right there?" broke his thoughts.

Shaking himself, Harry had no doubts now that his intuition about his memories was more accurate than he wanted to contemplate now. Stalling Jed, he said with a wave of his hand, "Oh, that. I don't want to talk about it right now, if you don't mind. I'm still trying to process everything."

Jed looked relieved; maybe it was worse than he guessed. "Certainly, Harry. I'm not too keen to dredge it all up again myself; Shacklebolt was here yesterday after we talked, questioning me. He said he'd already spoken to Severus, something about memory retrieval. Must've been awful, that."

Shacklebolt? About the clinic as well? Damn! However, he could answer Jed truthfully when he replied, "Yes. Yes, it was something I don't want to ever do again, but we got almost everything." Then inspiration struck and he knew how he could appease Jed's blatant curiosity and request his assistance without revealing every detail--and his own ignorance. "Which is why I'm calling you. I'm still recovering from the whole ordeal. Could you take over my patients this afternoon?"

Good Jed. Without hesitation he replied, "Certainly. Who are they?"

"I don't recall and that's part of my problem. Sheila could tell you, though."

Jed's face filled with concern. "I understand, Harry. Bumped you a bit in the head, did he?"

That was the understatement of the year, but for now it would suffice. With a silent apology to Severus for possibly maligning his considerable skills, Harry nodded, saying, "Yeah, it wasn't easy; he had to dig a bit."

"Well, I shouldn't wonder, what with you still recovering from the attack and all. Makes you wonder sometimes where their priorities are when they won't even let a bloke get a bit of rest before dragging him through hell again."

Attack? Harry shook himself; it was past time to end this conversation. "Well, that's the nature of a bureaucracy, isn't it? Thank you for your help; I really appreciate it."

"No, problem, Harry. Anytime. You just take care now, all right? I'm wondering: are you going to be up to snuff for our meeting tomorrow?" When Harry stared blankly at him, his mind racing, Jed added, "About our new venture?"

Ah, now he remembered. "Yes, absolutely. Ten o'clock?"

"Right. I'll be there. Bye, now."

Jed broke the connection before he could reply.

Relieved it was over, Harry glanced at the sunshine's position in the dome; it was late morning. Severus should be long finished with his meeting. Refusing to linger in speculation, Harry made his way up the ramp to Severus' office. Stepping through the tapestry, he saw his husband sitting quietly by the fire, his head lowered in deep thought. Quietly admiring the bright room, he started for the sideboard when he noticed Severus had already moved the Pensieve to a low table on the far side of two chairs set closely together. Harry was pleased to note that Severus had also traded the other two chairs for Harry's favourite Chesterfield from their quarters; good, maybe he could get some reading done afterwards.

He leant over Severus' chair, gently running a few silvered strands of his hair through his fingers. When Severus startled, Harry bent over to kiss his temple. "Hullo, love. Sorry to disturb you."

Severus grunted and blinked his thoughts away, lifting his face for a more proper kiss, which Harry happily obliged.

"I trust you found your 'pots and pots' adequate?"

"Fair to middlin'. The 'cream' I had before it was far more satisfying," he teased with waggling brows, "but I made do." When Severus chuckled, he rubbed his nose with his own.

"Are you ready?" Severus asked gently, his dark eyes tracking every line in Harry's face.

"I suppose so. Do I need do anything out of the ordinary?" he asked, taking the seat to Severus' right.

Severus shook his head. "No, it's similar to a simple Legilimency exchange only done within the bond. If one of the memories is harmful, I'll contain it. Once you've pulled it, just change its Schema to something innocuous or something you can toss into the fireplace."

Harry nodded in understanding, and smiled nervously. "How does one do this without bonds and a Schematamagus on hand?"

"It's not pleasant. The Legilimens 'sits' in the other's mind, secures the memory, and then destroys it. Even if careful, one can destroy other associative memories as well. And it's totally invasive; the Legilimens has complete control over the other person's mind."

A shudder running through him, Harry said, "Sorry I asked. That sounds awful."

Severus' grimace of distaste an answer in itself, Harry sat back in the chair and pulled the bowl closer to him within easy reach. Severus settled into the seat, getting comfortable. Harry placed his left hand flat on the arm of Severus' chair, loving the way Severus trailed his fingertips across the sensitive skin before folding them over the tops of his fingers. Within moments he could feel his husband's presence floating inside him and savoured the gifted warmth swirling through him, thawing his icy apprehension. Comfort soon followed, a bracing support he could feel mingling with his own gratitude; he was not alone.

With Severus' nod, Harry dipped his wand in the Pensieve and picked up the first memory, placing it on his temple. Mrs. Connors, his referral tomorrow. Good, it seemed fine, the disorientation weaker than he remembered, but perhaps that was because of Severus' presence. Succeeding with several others, it was a bit of a jar when one didn't feel quite right. Almost immediately he could sense a barrier in place; he could still 'see' the memory, like an clear glass ornament on a Christmas tree, but not experience it.

"It's harmless," Severus' low tones washed over him, "but incomplete and will feel odd until fully absorbed."

Harry flashed his amusement. "Going on the premise that some memory is better than none, I'll keep it." Instantly the barrier was gone, and Harry found Severus was right; it felt like wearing a shirt one size too small, but it soon 'stretched' as he made it his own. Moving on, he took two more. On the next, the barrier appeared before he'd even 'looked'.

"Remove it." Answering Severus' urgency, Harry placed his wand and drew the strand back out from behind the barrier. He studied it dispassionately; it looked no different than the others. He concentrated, changing its Schema to that of a piece of wood and tossed it into the fire where, with a bright flash, it was consumed.

Rather than disturb Severus' concentration, he eschewed his reflexive 'thank you' and continued retrieving his memories. Soon the Pensieve was almost empty; one other had been discarded and he wished he'd thought to write down what they'd been so he'd know what he lost. He'd remember next time, if there ever was one.

He stared at the last two remaining in the Pensieve. Were these the memories he'd considered destroying when he'd removed them? He didn't think he'd consciously left them to last, but there they were, and he'd seen none so far to disturb him. He briefly considered delaying, claiming fatigue, but was reluctant to make them go through this again.

Harry sighed, realising he couldn't not take them. Resigned, he set his wand to one at random and pulled the long fine strands slowly out of the Pensieve, placing them back where they belonged. Within seconds the scene played before his inner eye. Colch, Stenman--Draco! Almost killing Draco. The child. Running home to Severus. His rejection. Going to Hana. Coming home. All these events flashed in an instant of blinding clarity. Reeling, he started to fall--

An anguished cry erupted unbidden from Harry's lips. His body visibly shaking, he pulled his hand violently from under Severus' to cradle his stomach, the other covering his eyes. Staggering from the chair he made his shaky way to stand in front of the fireplace, his back to the room, his arms crossed protectively across his chest.

Stunned at Harry's reaction, Severus sat back in the chair, recovering from the abrupt end of their connection. Not one to let things fester, he moved behind Harry, running his hands lightly down his back. Harry jumped at his touch, then sagged into him; Severus braced for the unexpected weight. Placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, he coaxed him by small degrees to face him before folding him in his arms. Harry quickly dropped his forehead on Severus' chest but not before he'd seen a grimace filled with deep shame. Shame? Why would Harry feel shame?

Broken words came up to him, and he listened carefully. "It was so long ago, I'd forgot how bad it was. The healing was all wrong, and then there's what I almost did to Draco. I'm so ashamed of how I misused the Sanos. I should have defied Colch... although I've never agreed to do anything like it again..."

Ah, so they now shared the same memory; this was progress. To tell Harry so, he sent an image of the dungeon-like wizarding space hallway they'd walked through, and asked neutrally, "Is this why you started the clinic? I always wondered, you know."

Harry startled, then nodded; Severus could feel his relief. "Yes, two weeks after I returned from Hana, Sheila and I opened the offices. Colch is still director at Barties; he goes out of his way to avoid me."

"I'll wager he does," Severus replied with some irony, pulling him closer.

Harry sighed, remembering now why he'd removed the memory and its connection to the other night. With Severus' calm acceptance washing away some of his nervousness, Harry began, "She was damaged--the little one, that is, her mind was almost gone. Eunice's daughter, just like her mother."

"You couldn't have known; you did the right thing trying to save her." Even if he didn't have to like the risks Harry had taken to do so.

Harry shuddered and continued bleakly as if Severus hadn't spoken. "I never knew her name, if she ever had one, never even tried to find out; it was so much easier to push it aside, to not think about it. I'll never know now; she's lost."

Wordlessly, Severus curled his arm around Harry's shoulder protectively and led him unresisting to the sofa where he cradled him against his chest. Harry buried his face in Severus' shoulder, trembling. Holding him tightly, his cheek resting quietly on the soft mop of hair, Severus waited patiently for the worst of his spouse's understandable reaction to subside.

When a much calmer Harry burrowed in closer, Severus murmured, "She was lost long before then, love, even before her birth. And searching would most likely have proved impossible. Seeing he has four other grandchildren from Draco, and I never heard of a fifth, there's every likely chance Lucius never officially registered the child's birth except in their private ancestral records; an official verification of the daughter's bloodlines would be unnecessary unless she married. And given what you just said about her mental state, I highly doubt Draco was able to fulfill that contract."

"But surely Eunice's family--"

"She had none to speak of; there were no siblings, none to miss her. Eunice's father was killed in the final battle and her mother died shortly after Eunice's marriage to Draco; her remaining cousins would never have questioned a Malfoy. I do recall the brief splash about her funeral, although the cause was never given."

"I know, I read the articles as well; I should have gone to the authorities then, or at the very least told you about it. I suppose, in a way, I'm as much responsible for her death as Draco."

Stroking Harry's hair, Severus said gently, "Hush, don't even think it; you're taking far too much blame on yourself. There's no shame in wanting to help someone else--you had no foreknowledge of what was going to happen and, from what I saw, you'd been locked into a binding magical contract you couldn't break." Harry made a noise of protest, but said nothing. "If you're going to blame yourself, you might as well blame me as well; you did try to tell me, but I threw the opportunity away."

"Even so, I should have told someone--"

"Tell them what? What would have been the point?"

He could feel Harry's confusion when he exclaimed, "That Draco killed his wife with a Coactum Curse!"

It dawned on Severus that Harry couldn't know. Would the knowledge make it better or worse? "Harry, once the victim dies of a Coactum, it leaves no trace."

Harry sat up. "What? How could I have missed that?"

"Its use is quite rare. My Schema notes of that curse, among others, were just that--short, concise, and for my use only. I wrote as little as was necessary to fully understand something, nothing more, in case my personal records were ever confiscated. You couldn't have known unless I'd told you and, I'm sorry, I didn't think of it."

Harry was quiet for some time; Severus watched the logic flit through his expressive face. "And Stenman and Draco wouldn't have been foolish enough to leave her body for someone to find in any event."

"Precisely, and even if they had, there would've been nothing for the authorities to see other than a heroic effort--by two legitimate healers--to save a baby."

"And since there's nothing illegal in failing to report the cause of death when a reputable healer is willing to certify it at a later date... Stenman wasn't wanted by the Ministry then. But to not record the birth? We're required to register them with the Ministry."

"Yes and no. Maybe healers are when they're involved, but there are loopholes for those who know how to use them, and I assure you, Lucius does. The family ancestral records are but one channel a family can use outside of the Ministry. Another is the magical record of witches and wizards that appears here at Hogwarts at their birth, which is considered an official record unto itself. If a child of wizarding parents fails to appear on the list, then, as a squib, the Ministry truly doesn't care one way or the other."

"You're joking."

"No, I wish I was, though. Albus had a devil of a time employing Filch--after all, no such wizard existed." Severus snorted. "Not that it stopped the Ministry from docking his taxes." He shook his head. "Such a waste of our heritage; even a squib has value."

Harry sighed. "To ignore anyone like that is a waste. As to the child, I suppose it doesn't really matter any more, does it? She's dead and no one knows she even existed."

"We do. It will have to be enough, for now."

As Harry nodded, Severus gathered him back in his arms. Given the tension permeating his spouse's body, he wasn't very surprised when Harry said quietly, "I can't forget her face before Draco pushed her off the station platform, Severus. Blank--devoid of thought, and yet--so haunted. Such a thin, frail child. It was like time stood still. One moment she was there, the next--" Harry drew a deep breath. "I saw his face as he did it--he was watching me, mocking me, just like he did when she was born."

His whole body quivering, Harry murmured shakily, "I hated him again at the station just as much as I did a decade ago. I felt the Sanos rise, pulling at me to release it. I barely stopped it. It was so hard, I just wanted to destroy him. Draco laughed, shouting across the distance that I should have let her die when I had the chance. And maybe I should have. To what kind of wasted life did I condemn her?"

Severus had no answers to this or any of it right now, but he did have conjecture. Thinking back on the two memories, he realised Harry was right about Malfoy's malice, to a point, but his expression of it at the station was far more deliberate than at the hospital. Then there was the child. He had no doubt she'd been killed because she presented a liability, but the method confounded him; her messy execution was certainly not what he would expect from the usually fastidious elder Malfoy.

Perhaps Draco had acted on his own rather than involve his father? Yes, this made more sense as there was no logical reason for it otherwise; the curses and hexes from the combatants alone would have been enough to panic the Muggles for Lucius' purposes. Draco always had been too impulsive. If he was right, then Draco spotting Harry must have been like every holiday rolled into one for him; throwing her death in Harry's face was almost certain to hurt him.

But now was, perhaps, not the time to mention any of it.

Harry curled further into him and slid his arm across Severus' waist, seeking comfort. Severus kissed the top of his head. "I believe everyone's life has a purpose, Harry. Albus believed that once you fulfil your destiny, you cease to exist--some of us just take longer than others. While I was never comfortable with his notions of pre-ordained fate, I also have to acknowledge that we cannot possibly know her life's duty. If one accepts Albus' premise, perhaps her entire purpose was to be at the station, at that moment, to make a seemingly minor, dismissible incident into something so horrible the Wizarding World would finally take notice. Taking it further, even Draco must have more to do since he still exists. Perhaps he is nothing more than destiny's pathetic plaything; he may never know the thousands of lives he saved by sacrificing one he thought had no value."

"On the other hand, we may never know how many lives I could have saved had I finished him off ten years ago," Harry murmured.

"At what cost, love? The loss of all that's good within you? No, we will never know, nor should we. The most we can do is trust we are doing the right thing and blindly move forward."

Harry was silent, but some of the tension drained out of him. "I don't know," he replied softly. "You may be right. I don't think the way you do. I lost my trust in myself. I--well, it wasn't my finest moment."

"No, Harry, it was your finest moment, the one where you finally gained control of yourself and your magic."

Harry scoffed, "Some control, I almost killed Draco by perverting the very thing I've built my life on. If that baby hadn't cried--"

"If Eunice's baby hadn't cried, you still would have stopped. I saw it, Harry. Your wand was already descending, your decision made before she uttered a sound. In that moment of righteous anger I saw you deny your baser impulses to make a strong moral choice, just like you did at the station; there was nothing to stop you then other than yourself, and no one would have condemned you given what happened."

"Friday," Harry murmured half to himself. "Something happened Friday--at the Clinic. Jed mentioned it both times I talked to him. I knew what he meant yesterday--but not today."

"Yes, Shacklebolt alluded to it--"

"Something bad happened; I just know it. Why else would I--" He shuddered. "I have to see it, have to--" and before Severus could stop him, he broke free of his arms. Rushing to the table he retrieved his wand where it had fallen to the floor and scooped up the last strand from the Pensieve. After the filament disappeared into his forehead, Harry stiffened, his wide-staring eyes glazing in shock as his skin changed rapidly to a ghastly grey filmed in a layer of heavy sweat. Folding in on himself, he dropped to his knees; rocking, his tightly curled body shook violently as if in the throes of palsy.

Panicked, Severus launched himself across the small distance, half covering Harry as he tried to reestablish the connection he'd been using to assess the memories. Damn it, Harry was blocking him! Severus had to know if the last memory was viable; if not, it could cause this kind of adverse reaction. It could kill him.

He would not lose Harry. Not today, not ever, not if he could help it. He must see.

Knowing he had no choice as long as Harry refused him entry, he regretfully whispered, "Legilimens." With a painful wrench, he crashed through Harry's barriers and, unbidden, the new images swamped him.

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TBC

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'Timely' words of wisdom courtesy of 'Aunty' Aseneth.