Music Of The Night

by C.M. Oliver is eastwoodgirl

In Harry's 6th year, he discovers a side to Severus Snape that he never expected. Six years after that fateful night, the now-Professor Potter is back in the dungeons to learn of magic beyond what they do at Hogwarts... and perhaps fall in love as well... with a ghost of his former Potions Master? What illusion is showing in the stillness of the night? Post-DH. EWE. Snarry slash.

9. Past the Point Of No Return

MUSIC OF THE NIGHT (T; Romance/ Drama/ Mystery; HP/SS)

Warnings: see Prologue. Additional: No Beta. All typos are my keyboard's fault.

Disclaimer: see Prologue

A/N: Thank you for the constant support/ feedback and critique. I hope you enjoy this update. Answers on select reader questions may be found at the bottom of the page. –C.

LEGEND:

"Dialogue/ speech" 'Thoughts'Notes/ flashback "Singing"

01010101010101010101010101010

Music of the Night

By C.M. Oliver

©2013

01010101010101010101010101010

Chapter 8: Past the Point Of No Return

Harry did not know how he got back to his rooms, but he did wake up in his four-poster the following morning.

'Must be part of the illusion,' he thought, as he dressed for that day.

But one thing was surely not an illusion.

He was falling hard for his spectral maestro. 'Not an illusion, but a dream,' he amended. He buttoned the rest of his robes on and for the first time in ages, chanced a glance at his reflection in the charmed mirror.

"Wonderful, dear," his image said. Harry smiled.

"Wonderful, indeed."

01010101010101010101010101010

"Someone looks happy today," Hermione greeted Harry at the breakfast table that Friday. "Is that a new robe?"

"This old thing?" Harry looked at the scarlet number he had on. "I bought this when I had accepted my Potions Mastery certificate. I just didn't find time to wear it." He shrugged as he took a piece of toast and began buttering it liberally. To Hermione's other side, her husband Draco snorted.

"Finally flaunting your true colors, Potter? Had enough of Slytherin green?"

"Don't listen to him," said Hermione. "Red happens to be an excellent color on you, Harry. It brings out your eyes more. And I'm glad to know that you're still a Lion deep down." She then smirked uncharacteristically. "You'd better get me that Quidditch Cup, Potter –or there'd be hell to pay!"

"You don't even like Quidditch, Mione," the young Potions Master pointed out. The bushy-haired Transfiguration Mistress glared at him. "Not when this git over here won't stop bragging –" she gestured at her husband. Draco smirked.

"Potter here maybe a legendary Seeker, but Merlin knows that I am a better Captain."

Harry's eyes fired up with something akin to resolve. "Wanna bet on that, Malfoy?"

The blonde Defense Master exchanged looks with his wife discretely. This Harry Potter seemed more like the one they knew before. The emerald-eyed man appeared to have the life back in him all of a sudden. Whatever it was, it could only mean good. "You're on, Potter. Whoever wins the Cup by the end of the year gets an all-expense paid trip to wherever the winner wants to go." Harry smiled genuinely.

"Then be prepared to spend for a ticket to Tahiti, because I am going there this summer."

01010101010101010101010101010

Harry was whistling under his breath by the time dinner was served in the Great Hall. He greeted Minerva McGonagall who sat to his left. "Good evening, Headmistress."

"Evening, Professor Potter. How is everything so far? I'm afraid we haven't gotten the time to catch up yet since you arrived. Things are quite hectic around here after five years."

"I'm still adjusting, but all is well. It's very different seeing Hogwarts from a perspective other than that of a student." Harry reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice and took a sip. "All is well."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Minerva, mimicking him. "And your accommodations? Are you quite certain that you wish to stay in the dungeons? If not, we can still arrange –"

"It's perfect," Harry cut her off. "The laboratory in my quarters are adequate. It's quiet there." Minerva looked like she was about to say something else, but the tone of finality in Harry's voice discouraged her. She sighed. "Very well. If something –if you changed your mind though, do not hesitate to let me know."

01010101010101010101010101010

The masked man was traversing the bowels of Hogwarts Castle later that night, when a tabby cat crossed his path. He stared at it for a while before sighing. "What is it, Minerva? I need to be elsewhere soon."

The cat changed its form to a bespectacled woman with grey hair up in a tight bun. Her lips were formed in an even tighter line. She glared at the man. "You will not scare my Potions Professor away," she said sternly.

"Are you getting any complaints now?" The masked man smirked. "And you are aware that your esteemed Professor Potter had warded his rooms against ghosts, are you not? What is there to dear? I gave you my word not to cause him any bodily harm."

"No," said the witch. "And those wars would be useless against the living as you know very well –"

"I am dead, Minerva. Do well and remember that." The masked man said with a hint of warning in his voice. The witch frowned.

"How could you just throw everything away like that? Don't you think five years is more than enough time to wallow in the shadows of your past?" She shook her head. "People care, Severus. I know I made vow to protect your secret, but –" A heartfelt sigh escaped her lips. "You do know that Harry blames himself for your death, right? You are aware of how he's been these past –"

"Potter –blames himself for everything," he said. "And please do not call me by that name. That man is dead." He turned away from the witch. Minerva stared at the man's back, a sad look crossing her face.

"I did not even want to give Harry your quarters, but he insisted. He's the only one availably qualified to teach in your absence. If you ever decide to take your life back, the quarters will be your again." The man took a step away from her.

"He can have it." He began to walk away.

"Will you just let him waste away then?" Minerva called out to him. The masked man paused in his steps and faced her. "You mean like me?" He smirked when she paled. He turned to leave once more.

"Never," he whispered to himself. "Not while I am around."

01010101010101010101010101010

Harry was once again in front of the grand piano when the Phantom arrived. He smiled at the masked man. "I was beginning to wonder if my ability to create your illusion has disappeared. You're running quite late tonight."

"Forgive me," said the maestro, taking his midnight cloak off. 'Even Phantoms such as myself get unforeseen detentions." Harry laughed. "And what, pray tell, caught you unaware this fine night?" The Phantom paused in his motions before sighing, "my cat." And Harry laughed harder. "A very likely story." He stood up from the bench and crossed the room to get to the masked man. He looked up at the Phantom, his otherwise innocent-looking bright green eyes, shining. "Can we try something else tonight?"

The maestro looked at him contemplatively. He lifted one hand to brush a few stray strands of jet-black hair from his protégé's face. "Does it have anything to do with the scarlet robes you are wearing today?" Harry blushed. The Phantom chuckled. "Red is an agreeable color on you. It brings out the green in your eyes more." When the young man turned impossibly redder, the masked man decided to change the subject. "So, what do you have in mind?"

"I would like to test a theory," said Harry, as he drew a strip of black silk cloth from his pocket. Without further ado, he wrapped the blindfold around his eyes. The Phantom looked on curiously.

"Would you like to go out for another walk?" He asked his protégé. Harry's smile widened.

"Not really."

01010101010101010101010101010

The Quidditch Pitch was especially calm that night. Harry held his Firebolt Infinity in one hand, his wand in another. The Phantom stood right behind him. Had he not been wearing a mask, a worried look could have been seen on his face. "Are you really going to do this?" He asked the blindfolded man. Harry turned to look in his general direction, his eyes still obstructed by the black cloth tied around them.

"If you're as real as I make you to be, then we won't be having any problems." The young man quipped.

"I still think you're mental," the Phantom sighed. "When your own mental illusion tells you that your idea is crazy, it is very prudent to listen"

"I will take that into consideration," Harry smirked. He lay his broom flat on the grass and extended one arm over it. "Up!" The Firebolt Infinity hovered about three feet off the ground. Then with his wand, he tapped the grass surrounding his feet in a circle. The Phantom looked on in interest. And, as if sensing his curiosity, Harry explained his gestures to him. "I've placed a combination of a homing and a cushioning charm. Should I –" he paused to mount the broom, "Or we –fall, it would endure that we land on this soft, safe spot." Then, with a hint of pride in his voice, he continued. "I invented it during my Charms Mastery. Its patent is pending, so I still have time to name it. Somehow, calling it Homeland Charm doesn't quite sit right with me."

"I think I underestimated you," the Phantom admitted, awe in his tone. "You have a Mastery in Charms as well?" Harry chuckled.

"It was hard getting concurring Masteries in just five years, but I managed. It might have something to do with my fear of failing Potions –admittedly, it was a fallback in case –" the young man shrugged with a smile. "And only my own mind would doubt me. Relax. This is safe as it could be. The International Quidditch League has sanctioned its use for professional matches." Harry then corrected his grip on the broom. "Now get on behind me," he told the Phantom. Harry felt the man's weight and comfortable warmth settle behind him. "Hold on to me," he ordered the spectral master. A pair of arms wrapped loosely around his waist. "Tighter. At the speed we'll be going, you'll fall off that way."

"Tell me again why I had agreed to do this," the masked man grumbled.

"You're my Phantom, you can't say no to me." Harry jested.

'Indeed,' the Phantom whispered to himself. 'If Potter only knew the truth in that statement…'

"'Kay," Harry finally said. "On the count of three… 1… 2… " Then, they were off. Everything became a blur… the moon, the stars, the occasional cloud, the trees in the distance, the mountains from afar… And suddenly, the Phantom understood how it meant to be free. There was something to be said about trusting your life to a piece of wood and some twigs.

"You'll have to steer!" Came Harry's exhilarated voice. The Phantom immediately slid one hand off of the young man's waist to grip the handle. His pale fingers met Harry's calloused ones and comfortably molded itself against it. Together, they attempted to guide the flying contraption. The masked man had never enjoyed flying on brooms before, but he knew enough to be able to avoid any oncoming traffic, late into that night, should they encounter it.

"Can we at least slow down?" The ethereal voice asked. His reply came from a whooping Harry Potter. "Are you kidding me? Going at a breakneck speed is the best feeling ever!"

"But when you're blind-folded?"

"I'm not worried, that's what I have you for!" Came the shouted reply. The wind was slapping harshly against their faces as the Firebolt Infinity cut sharply through the relatively clear night sky. "I trust you!"

"You do?" The Phantom shouted back. "Why?"

"I don't know –I guess I just do!" Was the amused answer. "I mean, you're practically me, right? Although you seem to be more rational than I," Harry laughed. He was enjoying this immensely. "And you seem to not like flying as much." He shook his head disbelievingly. "Do you know how creepy it is to actually fall in love with an illusion you created yourself?" The Phantom froze at that –was it but the wind against his ear?

"What –what did you say?"

"I'm in love with you!" Harry shouted against the strong, flapping wind. "I'm bloody in love with an elaborate illusion!"

The masked man felt his almost non-existent heart stop beating completely. It was one thing to know –it was another thing to actually hear it said out loud. It made it more frighteningly real. "Harry, stop –"

"What?"

"Stop this thing and get us down –"

"But –"

"NOW!"

Harry nudged the broom as the Phantom steered and landed them into a perfect dive. The masked man hastily dismounted. Harry sensed the aggression in the man. He too, dismounted before shrinking the broom and placing it back in his pocket. "Is there something wrong?" He heard a rustle of clothing.

"Remove your blindfold," came the ethereal baritone. Harry hesitated. There was a hint of underlying dread in that tone. "I don't think I can," he offered. He heard a sigh.

"Just do it, please."

Slowly, Harry removed the small cloth and pocketed it. His eyes were still closed though.

"Open your eyes and look at me. Look at me Harry, and see…" The bright emeralds took little time in adjusting. Harry found himself looking at the Phantom's solid form in front of him. "I can still see you." The maestro approached him and reached out to gently caress his protégé's cheek.

"I am no mere illusion, Harry." He gently cupped the young man's face in his hands and stared deeply into those arresting eyes. "Look at me." Harry felt the sudden urge to touch the man, to see how real he was. His own hands landed on the Phantom's masked face.

"You're so much more than an illusion to me," he whispered, meeting the onyx eyes. "Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could just dream you into life –but how?" Harry shook his head. "How? I know it's not right. It's not right to hold on to something that never was, something that will never be." Tears began welling up in his eyes. He reached up to wipe them away, but the Phantom beat him to it. "Cry not, my Harry."

Harry stared up at him. "I hope I did not –" He took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I know there is nothing to –" Then, another. "Please don't go yet."

The Phantom caught the young professor's shaky hands in his. He sensed the uncertainty, fear and apprehension in his protégé's voice. Nevermore had he wanted to assuage Harry's doubts than at that moment. "Not while you need me, Someday you will no longer do so, but until then…" He kissed the hands he held. "There are things that need explanation –and one day, you will wake up from this wonderful slumber, asking me, asking yourself, questions." The masked man sighed meaningfully. "One day, it will all become clear. I will dread that day, anticipate it… but for now, I will be selfish." He met the green gaze steadily. "Will you allow me to kiss you?"

Harry knew the truthfulness of the man's words. He knew it would come –that day when everything will end: the illusions, the dreams, the fantasies. If only he could stop the clock and make time stand still to this very moment… but not even magic could do such a Herculean task. Time will come when he will regret and laud this day. He knew it would come –he would have to face it when it did –but until then, he would hold on to this very moment. There was a reason why 'today' is called 'present'. It was a gift meant to be treasured. He let his eyes drink in the sight of the Phantom, as if trying to commit each and every detail of the masked man to his memory.

"Will you be back tomorrow night?" Harry asked.

"And every night thereafter that you will need of me," the Phantom promised. Harry sensed the sincerity in that pronouncement.

"Then you may kiss me, my Phantom,' he declared. "And every night thereafter that you may wish to do so."

01010101010101010101010101010

The view from the Headmistress' tower was breath-taking, especially on a night like this. Minerva could not possibly sleep and miss the clear midnight sky. Her keen blue eyes gazed outside the window of her office, seemingly in deep thought.

'Oh Severus, when will you realize that you are making a huge mistake?' She sighed. 'Five years have gone. Five, long, years…' Minerva shook her head as her thoughts drifted off. It was nearly midnight, and as powerful of a witch as she was, she was already getting on in her years. The War took much from Minerva McGonagall –she wasn't like how she was before it. She needed her sleep now.

The Headmistress decided to retire for the night, already feeling the brunt of the last five years taking its toll on her. She turned her back on her office window, aiming for her personal quarters. There was no denying that the end was near for her as well, but she needed to hold on for a bit longer.

"I will keep my promise, Albus. I will help your boys.' She raised her wand to 'Nox' the light in the room when a distant blur caught the corner of her still-sharp eyes. She raced back towards her window. She gasped.

"Is that -? But –" Minerva felt her heart skip a beat. "How –why?" An inexplicable mixture of dread, relief and confusion coursed through her as she stared intently at the middle of the darkened Quidditch Pitch. A few seconds later, a soft smile drew against her aged features.

"Maybe not too long now, maybe not."

She went to sleep that night with a lighter heart.

01010101010101010101010101010

Harry held hands with his masked maestro once more, as they trekked the familiar path back to the dungeons. The blindfold however, remained in Harry's pocket. He was quietly watching the Phantom from the corner of his eye.

"I have never been subjected to such an intense gaze before. May I know why you desire to burn holes trough me with your lovely emerald eyes?" The maestro quipped. Harry reddened, but recovered quickly.

"Just making sure you're still here." The Phantom actually smiled at that.

"As if the death grip you have on me would let me go anywhere." He raised their joined appendages at eye level, as if to illustrate his point. The couple was now traversing the bowels of the dungeons leading back to Harry's rooms. The young man paused before they reached their final corner. "It's midnight soon."

"It is, the Phantom agreed. "Our rendezvous tonight ran quite late –"

"I had fun," Harry cut him off, still not letting go of his master's hand, "I've never felt this happy in ages." The Phantom eyed him curiously. "Indeed? I am honored to share this grossly enjoyable night with you then, Mr. Potter." Harry stared at the masked man for a moment, before breaking into a fit of undignified giggles. The dark-eyed master looked at him imploringly. 'Is there anything humorous about what I had just said?"

"N-no," said Harry, trying to rein back his chuckles. "It- it's just that for a second there, the way you said my name –"

"Mr. Potter?" The Phantom repeated. Harry stopped laughing as he shook his head in awe. "Merlin, you sound just like him –"

"Who?" The masked maestro stopped in his tracks. "Who is he?" He asked, knowing what the dreaded answer was to be. Harry gently let go of the pale hand in his. They have finally reached the walled entrance to his quarters. His fingers reverently caressed the damp stones.

"Remember that night when you offered to teach me? Remember when I asked for permission to give you a name?"

"Yes," answered the Phantom. "I believe that I told you that you may do so once you get past all the lessons I will give you."

Harry nodded absently. He turned back to the wall and whispered his password. "Phantom." The illusion gave way once more. Again, he grabbed his maestro's hands and led the man inside his quarters. He only let go of him when the stone wall had already solidified again.

"Severus Snape," said Harry, as he took one of the armchairs by the fire. "The man you remind me so much of… the man plaguing my constant reveries… and no matter how unfair it sounds, the man I wish you were." He buried his face in his hands. "This is so fucked up –"

"Tell me," a gentle hand from the Phantom touched the emerald-eyed man's shoulder. "Do you care for him, Harry? Is it me, your masked maestro, or this man you've lost that I stand for that has captured your mind and heart? Listen to your soul Harry, and tell me what you really feel."

"Which is harder to believe, that I've fallen for a dead man who hated me, or a supposed made-up illusion of him?" Harry asked him back, shaking his head. "It's not fair –"

"No, it is not," said the Phantom softly. "Life is never fair." He removed his hand from his protégé. "Sometimes, choices become inevitable, Harry." He then turned to leave. The young professor looked up at him. "Wait, you're leaving? Did –did I offend you by what I've said? If I did, I –"

"Never apologize." The Phantom shushed his stricken-looking student. "You are not to blame, Harry."

"Then why?" Harry stood up, crossing the width of the room to get to his maestro. "Why are you leaving all of a sudden?" The Phantom met the steady green gaze and sighed. "You are confused. I do not wish to contribute further –"

"Do you want me to choose?" Harry challenged him. "You want me to choose between a dead man and an illusion?" There was a pregnant pause before the Phantom spoke again.

"No. I want you to choose between the past and your future." The masked man closed their gap before planting a soft kiss on his protégé's lips. Harry found himself closing his eyes inadvertently, trying not to lose himself in the spell of the masked man's kiss. He eventually felt the man pull away. "Wait –"

The Phantom silenced him with a quick peck on both his closed lids.

"Not tonight, Harry. But I will be back when you are ready."

"Wait –tomorrow night," Harry called out, his eyes still closed. "Please see me tomorrow night. I will have my answer by then." He heard the familiar rustle of a cloak.

"Goodnight, my Harry." The Phantom said simply, then he was gone.

"Goodnight, my Phantom," Harry whispered to the empty room.

01010101010101010101010101010

-END OF CHAPTER 8-

01010101010101010101010101010

A/N: How was it? Up next: Chapter 9: We Have All Been Blind–Our beloved Phantom's secret hangs in jeopardy as Harry contemplates on his choice: Past or Future?– it will be up sometime next week. Don't miss it!

FACEBOOK: C.M. Oliver is Eastwoodgirl (#cmoliverfanfiction)

FFNet: C.M. Oliver is Eastwoodgirl

Twitter: C.M. Oliver (a.t.)heyitschesca (#cmoliverfanfiction)

Tumblr: klaineloveandsnarrydreams (#cmoliverfanfiction)

P.S. Concerns about Harry's obliviousness – you would not know unless you've watched the original musical, but the protégé IS supposed to be naïve. Add that to the fact that Harry is still in mourning for Severus and what the two of them could have been, it would cloud one's judgment as it expectedly should. I cannot take much space to discuss human psychology and grief in here, lest I risk getting this story taken down. You can either PM me for my thoughts on the subject or Google it yourself. Thanks.

Concerns about Harry's drinking problem – it is a passing phase. I don't know if it was clear in the first chapter, but Harry's drinking is not an addiction per se. It is a go-to coping mechanism of his when the going gets tough. His friends are aware of this unhealthy habit, but as was mentioned in the previous chapters, Harry is the type of person who shies away from concern and help because he is unused to it. Draco and Hermione know better than to poke and prod Harry, lest they drive him further into his shell. Until it becomes a life-threatening situation, they would rather not get involved.

Is Severus alive? – it is deliberately obscured. Severus' identity and circumstance is part of the mysterious allure of the Phantom. Like in the original musical, it wasn't clear at first if the Phantom was a ghost or not. If you've seen it, you would know the real score. Just a reminder though, THIS STORY WILL NOT FOLLOW THE PLOT NOR THE ENDING OF THE ORIGINAL. It is just an inspiration.

Is Severus gay/ bisexual? –it doesn't matter in my opinion. Love is love, gay, straight or purple… Harry is gay though, as was mentioned in earlier chapters. In this AU, Severus was romantically attracted to Lily, but that is immaterial now.