Chapter Ten -
We thrive, entwined, enamored
Lost in a haze of amorous desire, Harry paid no regard to the blinding flash of white that splintered the leaden sky. He continued to cling to Severus, body shivering with need, his brain dizzy with emotion. Not until the fleeting luminescence faded and the deafening crack of thunder reverberated menacingly through the fledgling night did he take notice of their ominous situation.
The ear-splitting sound that fractured the charged air made him jerk his head backwards, eyes snapping open to lock with fervent ebony pools through the blurred torrent of whipping winds and driving rain.
"We... we'd better go inside," Severus breathed out, his voice raspy and labored, each throaty word punctuated by an erratic breath. "Come on. We shouldn't be out in this."
Slender arms released their tight, urgent hold around Harry's waist as their owner withdrew. Severus turned around and reached for the lowest bar of the ladder, ascending it at a swift pace. Harry followed his lead, his trembling limbs accomplishing the mindless task of gripping each rung and pushing his weight further up the ladder without conscious thought, his mind elsewhere.
Intoxicating images and vivid sensations that made up the lingering vestiges of their last few minutes of passion consumed Harry's saturated brain. He could not stop himself from focusing on the arousing feel of those lips sliding along his, that strong tongue exploring his mouth or those hot breaths flooding him, filling him. Every thrilling touch and stirring caress, each passionate moan and fitful breath excited him as they replayed themselves over and over inside his head, whirling around his brain, electrifying him, arousing him further, then hurling him back to that one word that had been his undoing.
More?
That enticing question echoed throughout his muddled thoughts as he raced on shaky legs toward the cottage in Severus' wake. His heart hammered inside his chest, the frantic beat thundering in his ears and catching in his throat, competing with the resonating din of the intensifying storm. The sounds of forceful raindrops bombarding the dock and pelting the stone walls of the cottage mingled with the roaring thunder claps as bright streaks of lightning split the starless sky. Harry's bare feet plunged into several muddy pools of rainwater as he ran, his pace hurried, frenetic, but still sluggish compared to the whirlwind pounding of his heart.
Both he and Severus were out of breath by the time they arrived at the front door, having sprinted the short distance at top speed. Harry clutched a slight stitch in his side, his fingers massaging the mild ache as he watched Severus grab the old-fashioned brass door handle and twist the knob, throwing the side of his body against the door in his eagerness to escape the downpour.
As soon as the heavy oak door swung open, Severus made for the far corner of the large room, heedless of his wet footprints across the wooden floor. He knelt in front of the small bedside table and wrenched open its solitary drawer, pulling out a thick white towel from its depths before standing up and turning around.
Harry stood frozen just inside the closed door, immobilized by the excitement still coursing through his body and the intensity of that black gaze. He hardly noticed the growing puddle of water at his feet, courtesy of his soaked state.
Severus said nothing as he drew closer with a slow, steady stride, strands of wet hair sticking to one cheek. He stopped his approach when he was only inches away. With a faint tremor to his movements, he brought the towel up and placed it on Harry's chest. They stared at each other for a silent moment before Severus dropped his gaze, ebony eyes roving over the sight of his own hands holding the towel against Harry's exposed skin.
Harry's breath hitched when Severus pushed the soft fabric higher and began to wipe away the water droplets from his neck and collarbone. Captivated by the unexpected ministration, his eyes fluttered shut just as Severus moved to stand behind him, those gentle hands moving the towel in slow circles across his back and soaking up the remaining droplets there. Harry remained still when Severus returned a moment later to stand in front of him, sweeping the towel down the length of one arm and up the other, then grazing it across his shoulders.
When that towel began to descend, Harry's breath caught in his throat, his stomach muscles quivering and tightening at the gentle, intimate touch. Lost in the sensation of Severus' ministrations, he started when he felt the towel drop to his feet and those soft, warm hands coming to rest on his hips just above the waistband of his shorts, thin fingers almost squeezing his flesh.
Harry kept his eyes shut, not needing his vision to discern the diminishing gap between them, not when he felt those hot, tremulous breaths ghosting across his lips. The intense jolt of pleasure surging through him when those warm lips pressed against his spurred him into action. Wrapping his arms around Severus' neck, he pulled him close as he nipped at that lower lip with his teeth, sucking on it and running his tongue across it.
Severus responded to his fervent actions with alacrity, raising his arms and cupping Harry's face in both hands. He stepped forward, forcing Harry backwards, feet tangling in the folds of the damp towel until his back made contact with the door of the cottage. Severus then pushed his eager tongue into Harry's mouth.
Impelled by the waves of heady desire coursing through him, mindless with excitement, Harry allowed Severus to explore his mouth while sliding his hands down to grasp the boy's hips. His fingers clenched around the dripping wet fabric of that baggy t-shirt, tightening every few seconds as his body seemed to pulse with need, his arousal pressed up against Severus' thigh. Aching to touch some part of Severus' bare skin and explore his body in turn, Harry slipped his hands under the soaking wet shirt and slid his thumbs into the empty belt loops near the back to anchor them, his fingertips just touching the surface of Severus' lower back.
In a flash, Severus uttered a gasp into Harry's mouth and tore away from him. He took several steps backwards, his motions frantic and desperate.
"Severus! What– what's wrong?" Harry burst out, shocked by the unexpected reaction. Had he done something wrong? But… but he hadn't done anything!
Severus did not look at him, shoulders and arms trembled as he clutched the bottom of that baggy t-shirt in a white knuckled grip. His long fingers were twisted around the sodden fabric, his ebony eyes pained and anxious as they darted back and forth along the floor.
The seconds stretched into half a minute of strained silence, broken only by their erratic breathing. Studying the boy's nervous demeanor, a disquieting thought began to unfurl inside Harry's mind, dampening his ardor and giving rise to a growing suspicion. Perhaps Severus hadn't pulled away because he was shy, but because he was fearful.
It was then that Harry remembered what Severus had said a few days ago while massaging that scar-fading potion into the skin on the back of his hand.
"And it will not work if the scar is very old... older than five years or so..."
Was he hiding something, something he hadn't been able to fade? Was that why he hadn't removed his t-shirt before joining Harry in the pond?
Suspicion spiraling to dread, hoping he was wrong yet almost certain he wasn't, Harry approached Severus with cautious steps. He placed both hands on the distraught boy's cheeks and coaxed him to look up.
"Severus? Do you... Do you have scars on your back? Is that why...?"
Harry's voice cracked and died away before he could complete his question, the lump in his throat preventing him from continuing.
"Did your father...?"
Once again, Harry faltered, but there was little need to continue when those anguished black eyes suddenly glistened with unshed tears. He threw his arms around Severus' neck and pulled him into a tight embrace, relieved when the other boy didn't hesitate to reciprocate the gesture, those slender arms wrapping themselves around Harry's waist.
Brushing a soft kiss on a damp cheek, Harry whispered the impassioned words that burned inside his own aching, wounded heart and spilled forth in a rush of emotion.
"I'm sorry, Severus. I'm so sorry he hurt you like that. I hate that he's caused you so much pain."
After a moment, Harry withdrew, just far enough to look into those dark, shimmering pools. The ache inside his chest intensified when he saw tears spilling from them and cascading down those pallid cheeks. Sweeping his thumbs along both cheekbones to wipe away the warm drops, Harry spoke again, needing Severus to understand.
"Listen to me, Severus. I don't care if you have physical marks... scars... it doesn't matter to me. It doesn't make any difference in the way I see you… the way I feel about you."
Harry trailed his right hand downwards and placed it over Severus' heart. Pressing his palm flat against the wet fabric, he could feel that pounding heartbeat, strong and resilient, racing underneath his outstretched hand.
"This… this is what matters to me. This is what I see when I look at you… I see your heart, your beautiful heart… not the scars left behind by that bastard," Harry urged, a fierce spike of fury edging his tone as he finished, incensed at the idea of Severus bearing the physical evidence of his father's brutality. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his surging anger before continuing.
"And I'm sorry that I upset you. I shouldn't have... but I only wanted to... to touch you," Harry whispered. He was nervous about his admission, his voice trembling as he looked back up into those tearful eyes.
Severus' lower lip quivered and he bit down on it, his eyes never leaving their intense connection with Harry's. With slow, tentative movements, his trembling hands found both of Harry's wrists, encircling them and guiding them down to hang loosely at Harry's sides.
Heart clenching in disappointment, Harry realized that despite his comforting words, Severus was still going to withdraw from him.
He was wrong.
Long, trembling fingers drew his attention downwards, curling around the ends of Severus' baggy t-shirt and then stilling.
Harry eyes snapped back up to stare into the dark orbs that now showed a touch of determination within their depths. Another movement caught his attention, prompting him to lower his gaze again. He stared, mesmerized, as those hands traveled up, pulling the shirt along with them at a torturously slow pace. The soaking wet fabric was gradually stripped away, pulled over those drenched strands of ebony hair that clung to that slender neck, revealing an expanse of pale flesh that was covered in goose bumps and tiny rivulets of water from the dark, soaked locks.
Widened grey eyes feasted on the breathtaking sight, wandering over the expanse of perfect porcelain skin, taking in the lean muscles of those slender arms, the flat stomach and then up to gaze at taut nipples, their dusty pink shade in stark contrast with the creamy white surrounding it.
Harry's pulse raced as a wave of heat coursed through his entire body, making him feel hot… feverish. This wasn't the first time he had seen a male chest other than his own, but it was the first time he had wanted to touch one. He wanted more than anything to touch Severus, to run his fingers across that smooth skin, but he waited for consent, needing that verbal assurance before he could act.
Severus gave it to him. Taking one step closer, he grasped Harry's hands and placed them on his bare chest, right over those puckered nipples.
"I want you to touch me," he whispered as he withdrew his own hands in silent permission, dark eyes vanishing beneath their lids and those soft, thin lips parted, emitting deep, quavering breaths of anticipation.
Harry swallowed hard, ghosting his fingertips over lean pectoral muscles that quivered under his touch, brushing thumbs over the hard nipples and pressing lightly into the puckered skin. His efforts were rewarded by a sharp intake of breath and a groan that issued from the back of Severus' throat. Its growl-like timbre sparked another wave of warmth and pleasure to rush through Harry and settle low in his abdomen where it smoldered and flourished. He felt a surge of sharp arousal pooling around his midriff and lower, pulsing and rippling through his whole body.
Emboldened and barely breathing, he slid his hands lower and pressed his palms against the cool skin of that quivering stomach before moving outwards, following the waistband of the wet shorts. His searching fingertips found the sides of Severus' slim waist and gripped the soft flesh there, fingers digging in, thumbs pressing into the sides of that firm stomach.
A ridge of raised flesh just above Severus' right hip made Harry's heart give a painful lurch. Slowly, he traced the scar's smooth line with the very tips of his fingers, just as he had that night in the abandoned classroom when he discovered the faded slashes on Severus' forearms. This scar felt more severe, its smooth surface more pronounced, indicating a painful laceration too old to have reaped the benefits of Severus' scar-fading potion.
Following the scar's contour, Harry's fingers advanced further up Severus' back, but stopped when they encountered another raised scar that traversed the first. His now trembling fingers changed course, tracking the new scar's progression.
But he soon found another.
Then another.
And another.
Breath held, his heart slamming painfully against his ribcage, Harry took a step back. He was shaking as a feeling of compulsion rose within him, urging him, pushing him to circle around Severus. He felt compelled to gaze upon those horrible marks with his own eyes even though he knew the sight would break his heart.
He was right.
Severus' back was littered with scars. There were dozens of long, ghastly marks crisscrossing the pale flesh and intersecting at odd angles across the whole length of his slender back.
A sharp exhalation pushed past Harry's shaking lips at the sight. When hot tears welled up in his eyes, it was all he could do to hold back the sob that wanted to escape his swollen, painful throat. He could feel his emotions swelling inside him, anger and deep despair in equal amounts choking him and quickly clenched his fists and ground his teeth to hold them in.
Blinking away his burning tears, Harry focused on Severus. The boy was hunched over and trembling badly, face buried in his hands, wet hair falling on either sides of his head to expose the back of that pale, vulnerable neck.
Quelling his own rage at seeing the horrific evidence of Tobias Snape's cruelty, Harry edged closer to comfort the boy he loved. He slid his arms around Severus' waist and pulled him close, drawing that scarred back flush against his own chest. Ignoring the leak of hot tears from his eyes, he feathered his lips along the pale skin of one thin shoulder, kissing the soft skin, soothing the faint tremors again and again until the muscles beneath his tender touch relaxed and those fitful breaths deepened and slowed.
All was quiet and still for one long, peaceful moment.
Harry wasn't sure when his comforting ministrations transformed into slow, sensual caresses, lost in the very pleasant task of ghosting his lips over the length of Severus' shoulder and then further up, trailing kisses along that slender neck. His fingers had found an equally enjoyable activity, drawing tiny circles on Severus' stomach, feeling the muscle jump and quiver in response.
He breathed in deeply, relishing the lingering scent of the wild, rain-drenched forest permeating from the pale damp skin, melding with a faint aroma of old books and fresh peppermint. The distinctive smell invaded his senses, inflaming his latent desire. With a groan, he gripped Severus tighter, needing to feel more of him in his arms, his eager fingertips drawing larger circles across that flat stomach, growing more and more daring as the deep and even breathing began to shallow again. He continued kissing his way up that slender neck, tongue darting out to lick and to taste, teeth nipping and lips closing around the sweet flesh to suck, his lower body tightening with renewed ardor.
Knowing that Severus could feel his erection lengthen against his backside brought none of the initial embarrassment Harry had felt in the pond. He just couldn't get enough of the boy wrapped in his arms, his only thoughts centered on the intense need and desire coursing through him, the fierce yearning to be close to Severus, to give pleasure to him, to be intimate with him.
A low growl caught him by surprise and prompted him to still his movements, his body shuddering at the quick spike of arousal engendered by the raw, uncontrolled timbre.
Then Severus whipped around in his arms and latched onto his mouth, devouring it with hungry lips. One hand gripped the back of Harry's head with those long fingers sinking into wavy brown locks, while the other splayed over Harry's back and pulled him close, crushing their bodies together and trapping Harry's arms between them. Severus' tongue was tenacious as it worked its way inside Harry's mouth and swirled around the eager tongue it found there. Heedless of the moans filling his mouth, Severus tightened his grip on Harry's waist and stepped forward, driving them further into the room, controlling their every movement.
Dizzy and breathless, and now confused at the sudden emergence of Severus' dominance, Harry was barely able to think, let alone protest it. Wrenching his hands free, he allowed Severus to guide them, their steps awkward and fumbling as they attempted to move without breaking their heated kiss.
All at once, the backs of Harry's legs hit something and he fell backwards onto a soft landing, pulling Severus with him. It was the bed, Harry realized, but his thought splintered a moment later by the feel of that warm body atop his and that needy tongue plundering his willing mouth. The stimulating sensation of Severus' chest sliding over his sent his desire skyrocketing.
Severus shifted his hips, aligning their erections and sending a burst of pleasure rippling through Harry, forcing a gasp from him. Then, with a sharp thrust, Severus bucked those hips forward, grinding their hard aroused lengths together, just as he had done in the pond.
The exquisite weight of Severus' body pressing him into the mattress and the rapturous feeling of that hot tongue pushing in and out of his mouth increased the pleasure a hundredfold. Harry could not stop himself from crying out, his limbs trembling.
"Ahhhh...!"
"Does it feel good? Do you like it?" Severus breathed the words into Harry's mouth in a hot rush of shaky breath, his voice faint but urgent, each word vibrating against Harry's wet lips.
"Yes! Yes... Mmmm... don't stop..."
Those hips pushed forward again and Harry shuddered, pushed swiftly to the edge of bliss. He was close... he knew he was close. There was a small, distant part of him that said he should be embarrassed to be getting off like this, but it was small enough to ignore, buried under the overwhelming feeling of absolute ecstasy. It was an erotic combination of sharp, pulsing surges of exquisite pleasure, the frantic thundering of his heart in his chest, and the indescribable euphoria swirling around his brain. Every part of his body seemed to be on fire, heightened by delirious desire and powerful emotions... and Severus, especially Severus.
There came another thrust.
"Oh my God..." Severus whispered, then groaned, low, deep in his throat. "Oh Gray..."
And another.
His entire body taut and quivering with tension, Harry used his teeth to pull that enticing bottom lip into his mouth and sucked. Hard.
When Severus groaned again, the heady growl-like sound sparked another jolt of rapture through Harry. He grabbed handfuls of Severus' shorts in a desperate grip and pulled him down, just as Severus pushed forward again.
"Ohhh! Oh fuck...!" Harry cried out, knowing he was just seconds away from orgasm. He couldn't say anymore, Severus was kissing him again, long fingers twisting around wet strands of his hair as he drove that strong tongue further into his mouth. Those hot, trembling breaths came fast and hard into his mouth now, and Harry had never felt so on the edge, so exquisitely close to release in his life.
With a grunt, Severus thrust his hips one final time, causing both their tense and aroused bodies to fall off that precarious edge.
Eyes squeezing shut as his orgasm ripped through him, a torrent of pulsing pleasure raced through Harry's entire body, taking him, freeing him. He wrenched his mouth free and cried out, tightening his grip on Severus' shorts, his hips bucking up to grind against that hard erection again and again as he rode out the most intense climax of his life.
As the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed, Harry opened his eyes just in time to see the ecstatic look on Severus' face and hear the low, breathless moan of unleashed desire fall from those parted lips. Seeing those beloved features tight with sharp euphoria, sent another ripple of arousal through Harry's trembling, sated body.
The next moment, Severus collapsed on top of him, his body limp and pliable, his fast, persistent breaths brushing against the side of Harry's neck. Without hesitation, Harry wrapped his arms around him, palms gliding across those raised scars as he held him in a tight, loving embrace.
He listened to Severus' breathing slow down and lengthen, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeats thrumming against his own chest, conscious of only one thought.
For the first time in his insane, abnormal, perilous life...
Harry felt like he was home.
o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -
The first thing that clued Harry in to the fact that he was not waking up in his own four-poster in the Slytherin dorm was the wonderful warmth enveloping him. It came from the lean body pressed up against his back with one slender arm snaked around his waist and long, thin fingers resting on his bare chest.
Blinking open his heavy lids in an attempt to curtail his sleep-induced fog, Harry saw it was still dark. He shifted around to lay on his other side so that he could gaze upon the alluring sight of a sleeping Severus, thrilled that he was close enough to make out those sharp features, softened and relaxed in tranquil slumber, a lone strand of ebony hair lying across one cheekbone.
Harry listened again to the deep, placid breaths escaping those slightly parted lips, his heart swelling with emotion as memories from last night came rushing back.
Wait... was it still night?
Blinking again, Harry lifted his head and looked around. The entire room was dim, the only illumination coming from the glowing embers from the hearth and two small candles on the kitchen table that Severus had magicked to continuously burn.
The pervading silence then registered, making Harry realize the thunderstorm had ceased. Peering out through the closest bay window, he squinted in an attempt to see beyond the paned glass. Judging from the wan light of the slivered moon high in the sable sky, he concluded it must be hours before dawn.
Shifting his weight to his left elbow, he raised himself up. With slow, careful movements, he removed Severus' arm from around his waist and let it rest on the sheets before sitting upright, cringing when he felt the presence of something cool, wet and sticky on his bare stomach.
Glancing down, Harry could just make out a viscid substance adhering to the skin on his lower abdomen, gluing his boxer shorts to his body. His face prickled with heat, a strong surge of embarrassment taking hold of him as he realized what the substance was.
Neither he nor Severus had bothered to clean themselves up. In fact, the last thing Harry remembered was holding Severus in his arms. They must have fallen asleep right after...
"God... I can't believe we did that," Harry murmured, an odd mixture of elation and shock flooding his brain. He had actually made out with Severus!
No, they hadn't just made out, they had brought each other to orgasm. One exquisite, unbelievable, breathtaking, mind-blowing orgasm.
A sheepish grin emerged on Harry's face and his fiery blush deepened as he recalled how amazing it had felt to have Severus on top him, kissing him, holding him, thrusting against him. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. If he weren't careful, he was going to get himself worked up again, and right now he had more important things to deal with.
Taking care not to interrupt Severus' deep slumber, Harry rose from the bed and moved through the room, edging toward the candlelit kitchen where he remembered leaving his school bag. He found it on the floor beside the kitchen table and quickly pulled the Hawthorn wand from its depths. He cast a cleaning charm on himself to remove the remaining evidence of last night's fun before lighting his wand with a muted Lumos.
Shifting his focus to his next most pressing need, Harry hastened over to the small washroom in the far corner of the room. Once behind its closed door, he relieved his full bladder, then washed his hands and face. For the second time since arriving in this time, he cursed his mediocrity at Transfiguration, realizing that he had very little chance of successfully transforming something into a usable toothbrush. He settled for rinsing his mouth out with the cool water from the tap instead, swishing it around for a full minute before spitting it out... just in case he were to receive more of those fiery kisses from Severus.
Having tended to his discomfort, Harry left the washroom and crossed the room with swift, silent precision, anxious to return to that warm bed and its sleeping occupant. Perching on the edge of the bed, he saw that Severus had turned to lie on his back. His eyes roved over the flawless, pale flesh of that chest, then lower to that perfect, flat stomach.
His blush returned when he noticed that Severus seemed to be in the same awkward predicament that he had been in moments ago. The waistband of those grey shorts had drifted down a few inches, exposing two protruding hip bones and a small amount of fine ebony hair trailing from his navel and disappearing beneath the fabric. Just above that waistband were lingering vestiges of dried semen covering the pale skin.
Worrying his lower lip to lessen his sudden embarrassment, Harry weighed his options. The first one was to do nothing and just let an embarrassed Severus deal with it himself. His other option involved a bit of daring on his part, but it seemed the most practical solution.
Holding his breath to ease his anxiety and praying Severus was a heavy sleeper, Harry directed the his wand at the unsightly dried smear and whispered the incantation to clear it away. With his lower lip captured in between his teeth, he waited in nervous anticipation, but Severus did not wake, merely grunting in his sleep before turning away from Harry to curl up on his other side.
Grateful that his bold move went unnoticed, Harry released a massive sigh of relief and gave into his longing to be close to Severus again. He placed his wand on the bedside table and then crawled over to Severus' warm body. Slipping his arm around that slender waist, he pressed his chest up against the boy's back, ignoring the raised scars and reveling in the feel of their skin touching again.
Harry took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, entranced by the unique, intoxicating scent of Severus' skin and lulled by the rhythmic sounds of his slow, metered breaths. In no time, his body relaxed and his mind drifted, once again succumbing to the alluring draw of sleep.
After what felt like only a minute, Harry awoke with a start, his deep slumber quashed by a deafening shriek. He shot up out of bed and snatched his wand off the table in one swift, reflexive move, blinking several times to extinguish the lingering haze of sleep from his eyes as he glanced around the room, his sluggish brain trying to grasp what had pulled him from his slumber.
Again, the strident noise punctured the silence, This time, Harry was able to identify the noise as being the unmistakable caw from a great bird. The loud, piercing sound came from somewhere outside, yet it echoed loudly throughout the cottage interior. Whirling around to investigate further, he took a few steps toward the window and peered out, scanning the narrow strip of crimson light emerging just above the tree tops in search of the noisy bird.
A low groan from Severus interrupted his scrutiny and he spun back around just as that long, lean body on the bed unfurled itself, arms reaching up in a lazy stretch. Sleepy, dark eyes came into view as their owner blinked and squinted, struggling to attain sentience.
"Mmmm... good... you're awake," Severus mumbled sleepily once those dark eyes managed to focus on him. After threading his fingers through his mussy ebony locks, he yawned, stretched once more, then rose from the bed.
"Can you let her in? I'll just be a moment," he added while heading for the washroom.
"Oh... Uh... Yeah. Sure," Harry responded, stuttering slightly, still feeling edgy from being woken in such an abrupt manner.
Another resounding caw pulled Harry from his unease and he traversed the room at a hurried pace, hoping to forestall a fourth ear-peircing cry. As soon as he opened the front door, the sight of a huge raven flying straight at him made him drop into an instinctive crouch. It swooped in through the doorway, its great wings bringing in a gust of wind as it circled the room twice before settling on one of the perches beside the hearth.
Straightening up, Harry closed the door. He turned around to study the majestic bird: the lustrous feathers, that large, curved beak and those glinting jet-black eyes that seemed deeper and darker than any moonless night.
As if cognizant of being examined, Solus turned her beautiful head in one slow, languid motion and fixed her penetrating gaze on Harry, her action and her intense, introspective look eerily familiar. After a moment, Harry realized why. Just a week ago, this impressive raven had studied him with that very same look from within the confines of a magnificent golden frame. The sudden comprehension that Solus was the guardian of Professor Snape's dungeon quarters and the inspiration behind that huge portrait sent shivers up and down Harry's spine.
After a long moment where it seemed to Harry that she was studying him just as much as he was studying her, she cocked her head to the side and emitted another caw, this one faint, but higher pitched, almost trill-like, reminiscent of Fawkes' distinct soulful warble.
"She likes you," came a low, hushed voice behind him, startling him.
Harry's brief surprise soon gave way to delight as a pair of slender arms slid around his waist, intersecting at his stomach and pulling him back into a warm, firm body. He shivered when familiar lips placed a soft kiss just below his ear, heat stirring in his abdomen.
"Um... you'd better stop kissing me there unless you want a repeat of last night," Harry admitted.
Severus chuckled. He removed his left arm from around Harry's waist and placed his fingertips in the exact spot those lips had just kissed, caressing the skin with feather light touches.
"Sensitive there?" he purred in his ear, those lips brushing his skin again, "You know where I'm sensitive, Gray? My stomach. Your little cleaning charm in the middle of the night gave me quite the rush."
Harry's eyes widened as Severus' words sunk in. He spluttered, trying to say something in response, but could only manage to voice a few nonsensical utterences. Severus snickered again, then planted another quick kiss to that sensitive spot as if to impress upon him how much he enjoyed the other boy's flustered state. He ended his teasing a second later, releasing Harry and walking over to Solus who, Harry noticed, was still eyeing him with interest.
With the same care and attention he had bestowed upon Spera, Severus stroked the stunning creature's head, sweeping his fingertips down the length of those shiny, black feathers. Only then did the bird break eye contact with Harry and center her focus on Severus. She looked up into Severus' dark eyes as if searching for something, then closed her eyes and buried her head under one wing.
"She's beautiful, Severus," Harry said, watching with rapt attention as Severus continued to caress her.
Severus smiled and nodded, but said nothing for a long moment. When at last he spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent.
"When she came to me, I didn't know anything about Chatham ravens. I only knew what Professor Kettleburn had mentioned once in class last year... about them being extremely mistrustful of both Muggles and Wizards, and how rare it is when one actually chooses to reveal themselves to a wizard."
"Reveal themselves..." Harry repeated, confused by Severus' choice of words. "Wait, what do you mean... reveal themselves?"
Severus turned his attention away from the snoozing bird and approached Harry, grabbing his hand and leading him over to the sitting area. Harry followed and took a seat right next to him, sinking onto the worn wool-covered cushions of the couch.
Taking a deep breath as if preparing for a lengthy exposition, he responded, his knowledgeable tone reminding Harry, not for the first time, of the teacher Severus would one day become.
"Chatham ravens are rarely seen. Muggles cannot see them under any circumstances and actually believe them to be an extinct species of bird. You see, Chatham ravens have the ability to conceal themselves, not out of fear like the skittish Diricawl, but simply because they deem most humans untrustworthy. They only show themselves to those wizards and witches whom they believe possess a certain... disposition."
Harry furrowed his brow as he considered what Severus just told him, trying to supplement it with what Professor Dumbledore had told him about Chatham ravens a week ago. He recalled the man saying something similar... something about Chatham ravens only appearing to a wizard or witch whose heart was pure, who possessed an inner beauty... or was it a selfless spirit? Harry had difficulty recollecting everything the elderly wizard had told him and what he did remember, didn't entirely make sense. He still felt confused, like he was missing something...
"Eradicated..." Harry mumbled in an undertone, still frowning as he struggled to sharpen the details of that conversation.
"What?"
"Eradicated. I remember now. Dumbledore told me last week, when I first arrived in this time... he said that Chatham ravens only choose to appear to those wizards or witches whose inner beauty most closely resembles the peaceful spirit of its eradicated people," Harry expounded, "though I honestly don't know what he was talking about. I mean... who were these eradicated people?"
Severus sighed and glanced at Solus who was still sleeping under her wing. Then he turned back to Harry and took another slow, tempered breath.
"The Chatham ravens are native to a series of small islands that bear their name, just east of New Zealand. The people indigenous to these islands were known as the Moriori. They were a peaceful tribe of Polynesian Wizards who settled the islands many thousands of years ago. They lived their lives by a strict code of non-violence and passive resistance. The Chatham ravens were attracted to the beautiful spirit and pacifist nature of these people and thus became their guardians. Or their protectors, if you will. About a hundred and fifty years ago, after centuries of peace, the Moriori were invaded by a barbaric tribe of Muggles called the Maori. They laid claim to the islands, then proceeded to massacre the entire Moriori tribe, slaughtering hundreds of men, women and children in a savage one-sided battle and enslaving those few who did survive."
"But..." Harry interjected, "You said they were Wizards, and that the Maori were Muggles! I mean, all they would have needed to do would be to..."
"Gray, they didn't believe in using their wands to harm another human, not even in defense. This was their code, the very core of their belief structure," Severus answered. His voice was sad, laden with regret. He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat and began again.
"Heartbroken over losing so many of their people, the Chatham ravens stayed on the islands, refusing to abandon those remaining members of the Moriori tribe who survived the attack. In a desperate attempt to provide some small measure of comfort to these grief-stricken survivors, the ravens altered their inherent magic to only be seen by them, hoping to encourage them to persevere, despite their loss. Of course in the end, it was to no avail. The survivors died in pain, enslaved and anguished, and within a few short years, the tribe was no more.
"Very little is known about the ravens after that since precious few have laid eyes upon them. But throughout modern wizarding history, there have been rare occurrences where certain wizards and witches have been chosen by these birds. These chosen individuals, along with those closest to them, can see the ravens and are permitted to care for them. Unfortunately, there is a darker side to being chosen..."
When Severus stopped here, Harry's heart began to speed up. He remembered Dumbledore mentioning something about this too, about those chosen ones being... destined to suffer a great loss just like the raven. Harry felt a slow creep of panic building deep within him as he considered the Chatham raven's ominous prophetic magic.
Sensing Severus' growing unease, Harry pushed past his own foreboding and grasped his hand, twining their fingers and giving a gentle squeeze of encouragement.
Severus kept his eyes trained on their laced fingers then continued with his explanation. There was a tinge of fear to his voice now, his teaching timbre forgone.
"The Chatham raven is not only skilled at seeing into a person's soul and deciphering their intent, it also has the ability to anticipate intense loss and pain that a person is destined to suffer in the future. And..." Severus faltered again, and Harry could feel the soft quaking of the hand clutching his own, "...and it chooses a wizard whose heart is pure, like those of the Moriori, but who also possesses the inner strength needed to endure their impending loss, just as the raven continues to endure the loss of its cherished people."
"So..." Harry began, startled by how rasping his voice sounded, his tone hindered by an onrush of anxiety that seemed to be trapped in his throat. Clearing it, he tried again, "so because Solus came to you... does that mean you're destined to endure some... some painful event... in the future?"
"Yes."
Again, Harry felt the tightness in his throat, the breakneck speed of his pulse, his stomach roiling with trepidation as his mind whirled and spun, trying to process this dreadful portent.
"In the days following Black's attack, having not yet had the time to research Chatham ravens, I had assumed that the attempt on my life was the predicted trauma I was to suffer," Severus added, "but I was mistaken. After further study, I learned that the event is never one involving physical pain. The raven's intuitive skill lies with divining an emotional tragedy, one that evokes deep mourning from intense loss. Needless to say, I soon realized that my loss was yet to come; further evidenced by the fact that Solus was still with me."
At Harry's perplexed look, Severus clarified, "Chatham ravens do not stay to witness their chosen wizard's suffering. No one knows exactly why. Perhaps it is simply because the ravens have already seen such great suffering in their native people that they are unwilling to subject themselves to more. Regardless of the reason, they leave just prior to the event. It is said that the chosen wizard can actually sense the significance of their raven's departure, feel the imminent tempest as it looms."
He took a deep breath and lifted his head, meeting Harry's worried eyes.
"In other words, when Solus finally does leave me, I will know my impending hardship is close at hand."
Harry's mind was racing now, one pressing question taking precedence over the myriad of thoughts and emotions tormenting him.
What was this traumatic loss Severus was destined to endure?
An onrush of distressing theories surged through Harry's head, all battling for his regard, and he took a deep breath as he struggled to slow the ruminative incursion and ascertain the truth.
He knew one thing for certain: the adult Severus Snape's life was riddled with trauma. The man had suffered numerous horrors throughout his harsh life, but Harry knew of only two that were nightmarish enough to engender deep, agonizing grief and mourning; the death of Lily Potter, brought about, in part, by Severus' own decision to relay that prophecy to Voldemort, never knowing the devastating truth about who it referred to; and the death of Albus Dumbledore, who had ordered a reluctant Severus to issue the final, deadly blow.
By themselves, each of these tragedies were enough to break someone, destroy them, or at the very least, cause immense pain and suffering. After all, what could possibly prove more painful than causing – deliberately or otherwise – the death of a beloved one?
Without another thought, Harry threw his arms around Severus and pulled him into a strong embrace, wanting to comfort him, needing to soothe the boy who had already been through so much, yet whose path in life was far from over and destined to be fraught with pain.
Silence ensued as they held each other, the seconds stretching into long minutes. Then Harry pulled away just enough to bring his hands up to Severus' face. Resting his palms along the sharp curve of Severus' jaw, his fingertips disappearing amid the ebony locks, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to those soft lips. Despite the feather light touch, despite his tender intentions, Harry's heart began to pound in his chest again. Not because of desperate, physical need or carnal desire like last night, but because of the intense, profound emotion that was filling him, washing over him, pervading his senses and warming his entire body, his very soul.
Desperate for more – more of this exquisite, raw emotion overtaking him – Harry deepened their sensual kiss. Severus responded by tightening his grip around Harry's back and pulling him closer, but the kiss remained slow and deliberate.
Harry found there was something so different in the way Severus was kissing him now; devoid of aggression, those warm lips parting just a bit, tongue barely touching Harry's as it slid across his lips, those long fingers gliding along the bare skin of his back.
It was pure bliss, something Harry never wanted to end.
"Sev'rus! Sev'rus!"
That deep, distinctive voice made Severus jerk backwards from Harry, jumping up from the couch and snapping his head towards the door.
"Shit! That's Hagrid!" he blurted out.
Leaving a bemused Harry just getting up from the couch, Severus darted over to the kitchen table, snatched up his wand and pointed it at the large bay window beside the door. One Alohomora and two Accio charms later, he was in possession of Harry's discarded t-shirt from the dock along with his and Severus' shoes. All items were soaking wet, necessitating a hurried drying charm.
As the two of them grappled with their attire, the half-giant's booming voice bellowed once again, louder this time, his approaching footsteps thundering as he neared the cottage. Solus lifted her head and gave a disgruntled cry, clicking her beak and spreading her enormous wings as if protesting the interruption.
"SEV'RUS! Yeh in there?"
"Hold on! I'm coming," Severus called back. He grabbed the brass doorknob and turned for the briefest of moments to fix Harry with a mischievous look, one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile in place. Then he turned back and wrenched the heavy door open.
"Hagrid! What on earth could be so urgent that you..."
"It's Spera! She's in labor... bin contractin' fer at least half an hour now!"
Severus' entire body went rigid at once, eyes widening and jaw going slack as he stared at Hagrid. Although his instinctual reaction may have been prompted by shock, Harry thought he could detect a trace of fearful apprehension on his face.
Things moved at a tremendous pace after that. Severus shook off his stationary stance a split second later and raced to his potions work table, shoving several glass jars and vials aside in his haste to find what he was searching for. When he spun back around, he was fastening a small black backpack and throwing it over his shoulder.
"Where is she?" he asked, his tone anxious and urgent.
"In the clearing," Hagrid answered, "and we'd better hurry... tha' foal's kickin' her like mad! Persistent little thing, it is!"
With Hagrid in the lead, the three of them took off at top speed, sprinting across the open cottage grounds, down the cobblestone path and out into the dark, feral forest, dodging low hanging tree branches and hopping over roots. For all his immense size, Hagrid was swift and sure-footed as he led the way. Harry's heart pounded almost as fast as their urgent footfalls, its tenacious hammering so intense, he could feel the pulsating, urgent cadence in his ears and in his throat, in his very brain. The relentless rhythm felt like a driving beacon, compelling him onward.
Soon, they reached the glade where Spera lay next to the same tree Harry had seen her hiding behind only days ago. Severus reached her first and sank to his knees. He placed a hand on her long, scaly neck and caressed her, calming her with gentle strokes and soothing touches.
As Harry neared them, he saw Severus tipping his head closer to Spera's skeletal muzzle and heard the soft, hushed voice.
"It's OK, girl. Everything's alright. We'll take care of you... and your baby."
The tender, comforting words tugged at Harry's heart, filling him with both aching sorrow and intense dread. He knew what was to come, knew it was close at hand now; the bittersweet moment when one life would begin and another would end.
"Sev'rus... did yeh bring tha' pain potion? I think she's in a righ' bit o' pain. She's bin shakin' pretty bad," Hagrid explained, "and pantin' too."
With haste, Severus ripped open his black bag and pulled a glass bottle and a small bowl from its depths. He unstoppered the vessel with trembling hands and tipped its contents into the bowl, filling it with a shimmering, opalescent liquid. Severus cursed under his breath when some of the potion spilled over the edge, the tremors in his hands hindering his control.
Harry knelt down and placed his hands on Severus', stilling their nervous shaking. Long stands of ebony hair hung down in curtains, concealing the thin, pale face, but Harry could hear the quaver in every forced exhalation, every hampered breath. Wrapping his fingers around Severus' hands, he applied gentle pressure, prompting those troubled eyes to look up. They locked with his own just as he whispered words of encouragement.
"Severus... you can do this. I know you can."
Taking a slow, steadying breath, Severus nodded, closed his eyes and swallowed hard, then turned his attention back to Spera.
With profound gentleness, Severus slipped his hand under Spera's slender equine head and lifted it, placing it on his lap. He set the bowl just under her snout and persuaded her to drink with hushed words of encouragement. She relished the potion, taking long swipes of it with her tongue while Severus bore her weight, supporting her, caressing her. When she finished, Severus moved his hand along the thestral's bony back, then swept it down along her swollen abdomen, pressing into the taut flesh with the tips of his fingers.
"I think the foal is positioned correctly, Hagrid," Severus said, his voice stronger now as he continued to stroke Spera's distended belly. She seemed calmer now as the potion took effect.
Hagrid joined them, kneeling beside the thestral's hind legs to examine the labor's progression. He spent several minutes mimicking Severus' examination, pressing his hands into the firm abdomen and feeling the foal beneath the trembling squamous skin. Soon, he moved his hands further down, grasping her spindly, tapered tail and pulling it aside. When he lifted his face, a broad smile split his beard in two.
"The foal's comin'! I can see its hooves!" he exclaimed.
Harry inched closer to get a better view of the foal as it struggled to emerge. Just as he neared Spera's hindquarters, the thestral stiffened, her muscles tight and rigid as she bore down amid a contraction. A moment later, her tense body seemed to relax, her muscles slack enough to quiver beneath her scaly skin. Harry peered down and felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw the inception of two gangly legs appear, sheathed tightly in a thin, gossamer membrane.
"You there... Gray, is it? Hold her in place, would yeh? And Sev'rus, keep her calm. I'm goin' ter help her along a bit," Hagrid announced.
Harry complied, placing his hands firm against Spera's hips, pressing down just enough to ease her shuddering and keep her still. He watched as Hagrid turned his focus back to the new foal. With a tenderness incongruous of his massive size, yet wholly befitting his sweet, gentle nature, the gamekeeper wrapped his large hands around the foal's thin legs and tugged, coaxing the tiny creature away from its mother's safety and warmth. Harry stared with wide eyes, transfixed, as the frail creature gradually emerged; a small bony mass folded in on itself, encased within its protective, life-sustaining sac.
Once it was out, Hagrid scooped up the tight bundle and placed it beside Spera's head. Harry had no idea where the exhausted thestral garnered the strength after appearing so fatigued only moments ago, but she immediately lifted her head from Severus' lap and began to nuzzle at the thin casing surrounding her foal, nudging it with her snout and nipping with her teeth. As soon as the protective tissue tore open, the new born foal was revealed.
Harry couldn't hold back the euphoric grin that stretched his lips as the infant thestral attempted to lift its weak head and stretch out its quivering, lanky limbs. Trembling all over, the feeble creature extended its small muzzle toward Spera who nudged it, nestling close. She caressed her newborn with such love and fondness, Harry had to blink away the warm tears that blurred his vision. He wiped them away, not wanting to miss a second of this beautiful moment and was in time to hear a sharp intake of breath from the baby and see those lustrous, black eyes blink open for the first time.
The sight was breathtaking – the single most awe-inspiring, heartfelt moment he had ever witnessed, but when he glanced back at Spera, the blissful joy in his heart vanished. Her head had fallen back onto Severus' lap again, and she was still.
Her dark eyes were wide open but blank and unseeing, her long, tapered limbs that were trembling just seconds ago now lay motionless on the muddy ground. Her body, so alive, so animate as she strove to bring her offspring into this world, was now limp and insentient, devoid of life.
Harry felt sick, his stomach giving a lurch as he realized what had happened. New tears formed in his stinging eyes, and he was powerless to stop them as they fell, unhindered, down his cheeks. He knew this was going to happen. Severus had told him days ago that they would lose Spera. He remembered breaking down upon learning of the mother thestral's impending demise, but seeing her lifeless body with his own eyes made it far more real than any amount of words ever could.
Harry sucked in a quivering breath and looked at Severus, unable to bear the sight of Spera's lifeless form any longer. The tearing pain in his chest deepened as he took in Severus' reaction, trembling hands hanging loosely at his sides, head lowered and thin face shadowed once more by those lank ebony strands.
Pushing past his own heartache, Harry inched closer and placed his arm around the shuddering shoulders. Hagrid must have noticed Severus' escalating distress as well. He reached out a massive hand to cup Severus' chin, persuading the distraught boy to look up into his kind eyes, blazing with compassion and warmth.
"She had a good life, Sev'rus," he consoled, "A life she gave up so tha' her foal could have a good life, too. She knew love, Sev'rus. An' tha' love was pure an' strong, just as strong as tha' foal of hers. He's a bit on the small side... but a fighter. He'll do her proud."
Severus closed his eyes and shook his head. Whether it was in repudiation of Hagrid's words or in anguish, Harry wasn't sure, but the tear sliding down Severus' cheek prompted him to tighten his grip on the shaking shoulder.
Releasing Severus' chin, Hagrid gathered the lifeless thestral in his arms and got to his feet.
"I'll be righ' back," he said, his tone heavy, hindered by sorrow. Despite his encouraging words to Severus, there were large tears falling down his cheeks and dripping onto his bushy beard as he held Spera close to his chest. With slow, labored steps, he exited the clearing and disappeared through a narrow gap amid the treeline.
The moment Hagrid departed, Severus unleashed a raw, gut-wrenching cry that Harry knew he had been repressing, as if he had been desperate to hold onto his anguish until it was just the two of them. Harry wrapped both arms around him and pulled his shaking body into his own, one hand on the back of Severus' head, fingers combing through his hair, and the other encircling his back.
"Shhh... it's... it's OK," Harry whispered, "Hagrid's right. Spera left us because she loved her baby. You were the one who told me that, remember? We... we just have to... see it from her perspective. We have to try to understand that love... wait, hold on..."
Sudden inspiration coming to him, Harry pulled away from Severus and crawled over to the newborn thestral who was just a short distance away, digging his front hooves into the ground and trying to push himself upright, spindly legs quivering under the unfamiliar weight. Harry placed his hands around the small creature's middle and scooped him up into his arms. On his knees, he shuffled back to Severus, deposited the restless foal onto the boy's lap and then waited.
A long moment passed by in anticipitory silence. Severus remained motionless, except for the tremors racking his arms and shoulders. At first, the small thestral writhed in Severus' lap, struggling to gain some balance in his new position before finally extending his thin neck. Wide, spirited eyes staring up into tearful, black ones, he issued a high-pitched, wavering mewl. The tone of that little, quavering cry was needy and insistent. It tugged at Harry's heart, as did what happened next.
With a low sob, Severus embraced the frail creature and pulled it close, one hand supporting his unsteady head, pressing it into his chest, right next to his heart. Harry watched and waited until Severus' head lifted, tearful, shimmering black pools locking with his own, enhanced by the beginnings of a hesitant, still doleful smile.
Shoulders sagging in relief, Harry moved closer, resting his left hand on the thestral's small head. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Severus' tear-tracked cheek, his heart swelling with so much love for this boy, he was unable to stop the whispered words from escaping his lips as they brushed the shell of Severus' ear.
"He needs you, Severus. He needs you now that she's gone. He needs you so much. And he loves you. He'll always love you. I promise you... He'll love you forever."
More tears fell from Harry's eyes as he pulled away from Severus, the dual meaning behind his words both adding to his heartache and easing it. At that moment, he didn't care that Severus had not discerned the hidden implication at the heart of his words, words that pertained to his own abiding love far more than it did to the emotions from a newborn thestral. He only cared that Severus had heard them, felt them and maybe one day, would understand their true significance.
The seconds passed in silence once again as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. At length, Severus' meager smile grew. Harry found himself mirroring the gesture, his aching heart almost overflowing with intense, raw emotion.
"OK, boys... look here."
When Hagrid's booming command broke the intensity of the moment, Severus obeyed his request and turned his head to look up at the half-giant. Harry's gaze, however, remained fixed on Severus. He could not tear his eyes away from the brilliant smile that lit up that thin face, its radiant power easing his own despair and strengthening his spirit.
Despite his steadfast attention on Severus, Harry was distracted when a bright flash of light came into his field of vision, followed a split second later by a brief clicking sound.
"Now Professor Burbage swore this new muggle contraption would... Well, look at tha'! Merlin, it does work!" Hagrid exclaimed, "Here, Sev'rus. You can have this. She tol' me it'll get easier ter see, we jus' have ter wait."
Blinking a few times to clear the echoing flashes of light dancing in his vision, Harry saw Hagrid bend down to place something into Severus' outstretched hand. His breath caught in his throat when the image on the polaroid photograph came into sharper clarity, intensifying his sense of awe and wonder.
He remembered seeing this photograph. Though its surface had been cracked and faded when last he saw it, stashed within the pages of that old copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art that he'd found in the adult Severus' bedroom, Harry had little trouble recognizing it. He swallowed hard as he gazed upon the hauntingly familiar image:
The teenage Severus Snape with a wide, exuberant grin, his arms around a small baby thestral...
Gray Skye, staring at Severus with such affection, such fervent adoration, his left hand resting atop the tiny creature's head while the thin white lines carved into the back of his hand stood out in stark definition – 'I must not tell lies.'
"There yeh go boys!" Hagrid beamed, "Now yeh'll never forget, will yeh? Those photos are supposed ter last forever!"
Chapter End - TBC
A/N: OK, so I didn't meet my initial deadline, but I sincerely hope you found this chapter enjoyable and worth the wait. It was a rather intense one and took me a while to get it right. Of course, I could never have done it without the exceptional talents of my Beta, YenGirl – Thanks, girl! Your time and hard work are greatly appreciated! :)
In case you are interested, all the information in this chapter pertaining to the Moriori and Maori tribes of the Chatham Islands is based on historical fact, the only embellishments being, of course, that one tribe consisted of Muggles, while the other consisted of Wizards. If you'd like to read more about the native people of the Chatham Islands and their fascinating history, search for Moriori People or Chatham Islands. I wrote this narrative based on information I found on the Wikipedia pages for both subjects... as well as the Wikipedia page about Chatham ravens. Yes, these ravens really did exist, but just like in my story, they are now extinct.
I hesitate to give an exact date for my next chapter, mostly because I need some time to tend to all those other things I've neglected over the past few months, especially since the holidays are fast approaching. But don't worry. It won't be too long. I am going to shoot for mid-December. If it will be longer than that, I will update my Bio with a new ETA.
Please Review.