Gray Skye Mourning

by KneazleGriff

As Severus Snape lay dying on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack, bleeding in the arms of Harry Potter, a profound, devastating realization awakens a long lost love, latent for years and torn asunder by time's cruel fate. Is love strong enough to overcome the pain from the past and ensure Severus' survival? Time-Travel fic. SSHP - COMPLETE.

13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen -

The scent of your skin, the taste of your lips

Piercing blue eyes pinned Harry with an impenetrable look. A fathomless array of conflicting emotions shone through those pools of blue, wayward and variant, like icy flames of ill-intent or restive waves of painful regret. Unbridled, the emotive torrent churned and roiled just beyond those cool, sapphire depths as if fettered by a mere precarious whim.

Harry countered the penetrating gaze with one of his own, grey eyes unwavering even as a surge of cold panic swept through him. Heart racing and breath held, he swallowed hard, hoping to push past his own rising unease long enough to find his voice.

"Sirius..." he breathed.

Though spoken in a tentative whisper, the sound of his own voice articulating that name, the name of his future godfather, seemed to elicit his own jumble of confused emotions to rise within him, a disparate mix of razor-sharp fury, deep sorrow and devastating guilt.

"Why are you here?" Harry demanded, the abrasive question tumbling out of his mouth before he could put any thought behind it. Rage was beginning to take precedence over all other emotions now as the image of those faint scars on Severus' forearms flickered across the periphery of his mind. Gritting his teeth, he struggled against the sudden and overwhelming urge to raise his wand to the boy who had put them there.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments. The hostility in those cool depths had waned slightly, replaced by a look of derisive mirth as one corner of his mouth turned up in an uneven leer.

"It's interesting you should ask me that. I was just about to ask you the same question... Harry."

His name, Harry noticed, was added as an afterthought, tacked on at the end as if considered an insignificance or more likely, a fallacious injustice.

"I should think my stay in the Hospital Wing doesn't require explanation," Harry replied, his tone curt but not yet betraying the precarious rage brewing just below the surface. "You were there, after all. Unconscious at the time... but you were there. You know I was cursed."

For the first time since taking off the invisibility cloak, Sirius averted his determined gaze from Harry, making his own hands his new focus. Withdrawing them from the safe refuge of his folded arms, he pressed his palms together with fingers splayed, rubbing them against one another with harsh force. It looked to be some type of nervous habit, judging from the accompanying tightness in Sirius' jaw and the taut, furrowed appearance of his brow.

"I'm not talking about the Hospital Wing," he bit out, eyes still trained on his clenched hands. "I'm asking you why you are here at Hogwarts... now... in this time... when you're not even supposed to be born yet!"

Sirius' tone turned from innocuous to threatening in a matter of seconds, his eyes glaring as they snapped up to Harry's once again.

Tightening his grip on his wand instinctively, Harry felt his own anger spike at the hostile remark. The fury inside him was pulsing now, restless and yearning for release.

"Please tell me," Sirius continued through gnashed teeth, "that your reason for being here isn't because… because of him."

"Why I'm here is none of your business, Sirius!" Harry spat, his barely maintained control dissolving at the allusive mention of Severus. Irrepressible rage was consuming him now, the grip on his wand so tight that the skin on the back of his hand was almost pure white from lack of circulation. He could feel his heart racing at a tremendous speed, thundering in his chest, the quickened pace and intensity of which causing caustic bursts of sharp pain to course through him.

"It damn well is my business!" Sirius countered, his face flushed with angry color and his volume rising. "You're my best friend's son... my godson, for fuck's sake! I think I have the right to know why you're here... and why you're hanging around with slime like Snivellus! That snake is nothing but a foul, greasy, Dark-Arts-loving Slytherin piece of–"

Sirius did not finish his rant, but Harry could hardly spare a moment to ponder why. Those sharp surges of pain had intensified and he was finding it hard to breathe. Leaning forward, he drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them. With his eyes squeezed shut, he took a slow, labored drag of air into his lungs and let it out, the exhalation strained and tremulous as if resistant to part from him. Both of his hands shook violently as they clutched the linen sheet covering his legs, his wand now lying discarded on the bed beside him. That odd, out-of-body sensation of swimming in the lake had once again returned, his body brimming with jolts of static-like ripples and his chest and head tight with unremitting pressure.

A faint murmur reverberated in his ears, garbled and indistinct, as if coming to him from far away. Relinquishing his tight grip on the sheet, Harry brought his trembling hands up to his face and placed his fingertips to the skin just beside his ears, pressing hard in an attempt to clear his faulty hearing and make sense of the puzzling drone. Not until he felt a hand on his shoulder and another gripping one of his wrists did he realize that the muffled murmur was in fact the sound of his own name being spoken over and over again with urgency.

"Harry! Harry... answer me, goddamnit!"

Grey eyes snapped open in surprise, their owner jerking back from the sudden touch. With his breaths coming out in rapid, shallow puffs and his chest still tight and throbbing, Harry stared with wide eyes at the unexpected, yet unmistakable look of concern and fear on Sirius' pale face.

"Shit, Harry! What the hell just happened? Lily... she... she said you were OK now."

Harry looked away from Sirius, letting his head fall back onto his knees again as he inhaled several more deep, steadying breaths. He had to calm down. It was a well-known fact that Madam Pomfrey possessed numerous ways of monitoring her patients from afar and he really didn't want her alerted to his current plight... or to his uninvited guest.

This was between him and Sirius.

"I'm still recovering," Harry hissed, his voice strained, hindered by the effort to stifle his seething emotions and persistent pain. "That curse damaged my nerves so it's going to take some time before I'm completely healed. As for your first question... I'm not going to tell you why I'm here. So stop asking me. It has nothing to do with you."

Harry paused here to take in Sirius' reaction, part of him expecting the boy to fly off the handle again. Indeed, it looked as though Sirius was fighting that very urge, his jaw tense and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"But there is something I need you to explain to me," Harry continued, grey eyes boring into blue ones in an intense, penetrating glare. "I want to know why."

"Why what?" Sirius growled, not missing a beat.

"I want to know why you tried to kill Severus!"

If Sirius was surprised that Harry knew about his attack on the Slytherin, he didn't show it. Those deep blue orbs betrayed no hint of shock at all. Instead, they radiated an open defiance as their owner once again leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his chin lifting in a display of cool indifference. The tension in his face did not ease though, and Harry got the distinct impression that the boy's sudden nonchalance was feigned, or at least exaggerated.

"I don't owe you an explanation," Sirius replied at last.

Despite their callous implication, the words lacked his typical biting snarl, Sirius sounding much more unsettled than Harry could ever remember hearing him.

The shift in demeanor drove a sizable dent into Harry's resolve but did not sway him from his objective. Pushing past his growing uncertainty about the whole situation, he swallowed hard and plowed on.

"You should have been expelled for what you did to him! More than that... you should have been thrown into Azkaban!" he lashed out, his anger escalating again. Drawing in another deep breath, he tried to calm himself before continuing in a more tempering tone. "Sirius, he is not what you think he is. He's not Dark!"

"That bastard knew more Dark spells as a–"

"As a first year?" Harry finished, disgusted at hearing one of his future godfather's favorite slanders against Severus yet again. "Yeah. I know. I've heard this speech before. And I still think it's bullshit."

"Harry, he's a Slytherin... and he's after Lily! Look, James didn't exactly go into details about... well, about who your mother is. But I assume... I mean... the way you defended her..."

"Yes," Harry affirmed, "Lily's my mother. But you're wrong about Severus being after her. He did love her, yes. But... but he doesn't anymore. Not like that. Either way, though, you shouldn't have tried to murder him! My God, Sirius... you slit his wrists! You cast a body bind on him, carved him up like some piece of meat and then left him for dead!"

"I KNOW!" Sirius roared, raw anguish permeating his voice. "Christ, don't you think I know that!? Don't you think I hate how far I went that night!? When I saw him on the map, walking into the Forbidden Forest alone, I followed him with the intent to hex him... to hurt him... I wanted to hurt him... but I... I..."

"So... what? Are you trying to tell me you hadn't planned on killing him?!"

"Harry, you don't understand! He was a danger to Lily! He was harassing her! He kept coming up to her, begging for her forgiveness and pleading with her to be friends with him again. James and I threatened him. We told him if he didn't leave her alone, there'd be hell to pay. But it made no difference. He just wouldn't leave her the fuck alone! Then I overheard him telling her about some... potion he was making for her... for the both of them! There was no way in hell I was going to let that twisted snake poison her... or... or slip her some fucking love potion! So I thought if I scared him enough... if I hurt him..."

Sirius stopped abruptly and lowered his head, drawing in a deep breath. With a trembling hand, he combed his fingers through his wavy hair and then looked back up, his blue eyes filled with a deep, pleading despair.

"Harry, I swear to you. I didn't intend to go that far... but... but once I started I... just... couldn't stop... I..."

"Shut up," Harry hissed through gritted teeth, unable to listen any longer. His eyes were closed again, hands balled into fists so tight, his fingernails were cutting into the skin of his palms. The self-induced injury brought with it more intense waves of pain, his arms shaking from the physical discomfort as well as from the conflicting emotions roused by his future godfather's feeble excuse.

The truth was that deep down, Harry had wanted this – some explanation for Sirius' savagery, however lacking it might be. He knew he would never be able to regard the boy's brutal actions as reasonable, or even understandable, but he had hoped that by becoming familiar with Sirius' side of the story, this oppressive feeling of disillusionment he felt towards him would lessen. For Harry could not deny that even now, after listening to his future godfather's rationale – a rationale born from some overblown, twisted sense of revenge and protection – Harry's heart still yearned to make amends, to forgive, to restore that guileless feeling of staunch reverence he had once felt for the adult Sirius Black.

After all, they were the same person. This angry, misguided boy sitting in front of him would grow up to be the man who would one day rush into danger without a second thought to his own safety, just to protect Harry. With utter disregard to rules or consequences or ethics, he would break out of Azkaban with a maniacal obsession to murder a traitor in Harry's midst, break through the wards of Hogwarts wielding a knife, revenge spurring him on, and then live a whole year in a cave feeding on rats and discarded bones just to make sure he was close enough to defend Harry from any looming peril.

The adult Sirius Black would have done anything to keep Harry safe – maim, torture, kill, even die. Anything for Harry.

And now, as Harry opened his eyes and turned his gaze back to the eighteen-year-old version of that man, he realized the stunning truth of the matter...

The two really weren't all that different.

Only now, instead of being the motivation behind Sirius' fanatical, protective behavior, Harry was just a spectator, seeing it all from the perspective of the supposed enemy. The shocking realization made his heart ache with a profound sense of erosive loss, even as this newfound knowledge fostered a kind of bittersweet understanding.

Understanding, however, was not the same as forgiveness. As their eyes locked once more, Harry could not stop his next words from escaping his quivering lips, voice barely above a whisper.

"I can never forgive you for what you did to him, Sirius. It's... too much."

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness."

"Then what the FUCK are you doing here?!" Harry snarled, grey eyes ablaze with ire again.

"I want to know why the hell you're hanging around Snivellus!" Sirius shouted, his voice severe again, rising in volume. He leapt to his feet, the hasty action driving his chair backwards and causing it to screech as its wooden legs scraped across the stone floor. His right hand was grasping at the edge of his left sleeve, leaving Harry no doubt that his wand lay concealed within the folds. Sirius' face was almost crimson in color, his deep blue eyes blazing with anger as he leaned forward a few inches and spoke again, this time in a soft, malevolent hiss.

"And I would also like to know why you thought yourself justified in attacking Peter."

Harry released a deep, guttural groan of frustration. He was aching all over and his heart was overcome with pain and sadness and anger. He just wanted this conversation to be over, just wanted his future godfather to go away and let him think... let him feel... allow him the time to sift through this emotional mess that was his life right now.

"I can't tell you why I attacked that rat. Just know that... he deserved it."

"Oh... I see... Peter deserved to be assaulted... but Snape didn't? Is that what you're saying?" Sirius drawled. His demeanor had changed, his tone conveying an almost gleeful disparagement while a twisted smile curved his mouth. "You know what I think, Harry? I think that greasy slimeball's Confunded you. You and Snivellus are the good guys, right? And Peter and I are the enemy?!"

"I don't think of you as an enemy!" Harry bellowed, losing the last of his wavering restraint. "And I don't think that way about James or Severus either! I love you... all three of you! And I can't stand this anymore! This stupid, childish, ignorant–"

"WHAT?! You... you love Snape? What the fuck is that supposed to–?"

Sirius' outraged statement was cut off mid-sentence when the infirmary's double doors burst open and a disheveled Madam Pomfrey charged into the room, her dressing gown hastily fastened and her hair sleep-tousled and hanging in her face.

"Mr. Skye!" she cried out. "What's happened? I was notified of a heightened state of–"

She stopped short and stared at the scene, her eyes darting from Harry to Sirius and then back again. Soon, the look of surprise on her face morphed into clear vexation, her parted lips drawing together in a taut line and her eyes narrowing to mere slits.

"Mr. Black, what are you doing in this ward at three in the morning?! You are in violation of curfew, young man, AND you are obviously harassing my patient!"

It was obvious that Sirius was unused to being caught in wrongdoing. He stood there like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and anxious even as they surreptitiously snapped over to the discarded invisibility cloak lying beside the chair. From there, they moved over to Harry, lingering for the briefest of moments before returning to the angry matron.

"Sit down in that chair, Mr Black. I'll deal with you in a moment."

After forcing Harry to lie back and running numerous diagnostic spells on him, Madam Pomfrey summoned two potion vials from a nearby cabinet. She handed the first to him straightaway, insisting that he take it at once as it would lessen his pain. The second she placed on the bedside table with explicit instructions that it was to be consumed once the infirmary was divested of all its visitors. That last directive was uttered while leveling a fierce glare in Sirius' direction. It was soon followed by a stream of angry muttering about a flagrant lack of internal repelling charms and infuriating Headmasters who deemed them unnecessary.

At another time, her incensed grumbling might have been amusing, but Harry could not muster the energy to conjure a lighthearted emotion after having just experienced so much distress. As soon as he downed the proffered potion and placed the empty vial on the bedside table, Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and pointed it first at Sirius and then at himself, casting the same spell on the both of them.

Harry did not recognize the echoed incantation, but the rush of magic that engulfed him brought a sense of vague familiarity. It washed over him like cool effervescence, tickling his sensitive skin and pulling a shiver from him as it asserted some kind of quiescent hold over him. The odd sensation was reminiscent of a being under the effects of a body-bind curse or an impediment jinx, yet quite different in that he could still move.

"Now then," she announced as she stowed her wand in the pocket of her gown, "I will be back momentarily. Both of you are to stay put while I'm gone. If either one of you move from your current position or raise your wand to one another, you will both find yourselves in a full body-bind in the blink of an eye. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Sirius replied, his eyes cast down.

Harry nodded, swallowing in nervous anticipation. He knew her precautionary spell was more due to Sirius' misbehaving than himself, but he had no desire to anger the formidable witch any further. He knew, and suspected Sirius did as well, that Madam Pomfrey was not someone to cross.

As soon as those heavy double doors swung past each other in her departure, Sirius' gaze lifted and locked with his own.

Harry was taken aback by the abrupt change in emotion displayed in those blue depths. It was clear Sirius was drained of his intense wrath. All that remained within those pools of blue was a profound, aching look of yearning and loss.

"Harry?" he whispered.

"What," Harry responded, his voice weak from exhaustion and emotional strain.

"None of those things are what I came here for. Not really."

"Fine. Why did you come then?" Harry had forced the words out. At that moment, he felt he couldn't care less.

"I wanted to know... can you... are you able to save him? Please tell me there's a way."

"What?" Harry breathed out, bemused by Sirius' last few words. He... he couldn't be talking about Severus. That much was certain, but then who...?

Once again Sirius pressed his palms together, chafing and kneading the skin with obvious aggression before releasing them. His palms were inflamed and red, rubbed raw from incessency. When he spoke again, his words were clipped, abrupt.

"James. He told me that he won't be the one raising you. He said... he said that I will be the only father figure you'll ever know... told me I needed to get my shit together so that I could be there for you."

Hope burned in his eyes as they bored into Harry's.

"That's why you're here, right? To prevent his death?"

For the first time since waking and finding him in the room, Harry felt his anger fade, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. Warm tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, a few slipping past his lower lids and sliding down his cheeks, though he was uncertain whether they were shed for his future father's fated demise or for his godfather's inevitable grief.

"No. That's not why I'm here, Sirius," he confessed, his throat tight and aching again. "And that's not how time travel works. I have no power to change that which I know to have occurred. I'm sorry... but it's just... not possible."

The doors pushed open once more and Madam Pomfrey stepped back into the room, this time followed by a furious Professor McGonagall clad in a red and black tartan dressing gown, and a triumphant-looking Argus Filch, the latter looking a bit incomplete to Harry without his usual feline sidekick.

"Mr. Black, I am outraged!" Professor McGonagall scolded. "Out of bed and wandering the castle in the middle of the night? Disturbing a student who has just woken from a five day coma!? Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor, Mr. Black, for this latest demonstration of rule-breaking, as much as it pains me, AND you will serve detention with Mr. Filch for the next two weeks."

The speech sounded so familiar to Harry, it might have been verbatim from one she had launched into after one of his, Ron and Hermione's after-curfew exploits. The deja-vu feeling only multiplied when Harry saw Sirius place the toe of his shoe on a corner of the discarded invisibility cloak, sliding it toward himself with stealth. The moment Professor McGonagall looked away to speak to Filch, Sirius snatched the silvery material up and stuffed it under his jumper. The furtive move was so Marauder-ish, so nostalgic and sneaky, Harry felt his lips twitch in a small smile.

"Mr. Filch, please return Mr. Black to Gryffindor Tower. I assume you'll want to use that time to assign when and where his detentions are to take place," the professor continued, her narrowed eyes darting back to her errant student again. With that final withering glare in Sirius' direction, she stormed out of the Hospital Wing.

Following the professor's temperamental exit, Madam Pomfrey raised her wand once more, pointing it at Harry and Sirius in turn and muttering more incantations under her breath.

Harry assumed it was the counter-curse to her time-lapse body-bind spell for as soon as she finished the incantation, he felt its encumbering magic recede.

After returning her wand to the pocket of her gown, the medi-witch turned to Filch and nodded, giving her silent permission for Sirius' overdue removal. She flashed one final incensed glower at the Gryffindor before turning her back on all three of them, retreating toward the back of the infirmary and disappearing behind her office door.

"Let's go, Black," Filch said, leering at Sirius with a mouthful of dingy, cooked teeth. "Back to the dorm where you belong, you miscreant."

Grabbing Sirius' upper arm with bruising force, Filch wrenched him up from his chair. Sirius responded with truculence, jerking back and trying to wrest his arm free from the caretaker's tight grip. His retaliatory reaction only succeeded in dislodging something that had been stowed in the front pocket of his jeans. As it fell to the ground, Sirius bent over in one lightning fast move, his fingers outstretched to snatch it up.

Filch, however, was faster, his filthy, mud-smeared boot stomping down on the object, which Harry could now see was a folded piece of parchment.

But not just any folded piece of parchment...

Harry's eyes widened in surprise as they fell upon the bright green ink emblazoned on the front, the familiar words partially covered by Filch's boot.

"Not so fast, boy!" Filch snapped, leaning down to retrieve the map. He brought it up to his face, his watery eyes tapering as they scanned over the cover's haughty verbiage.

"What do we have here, Black?" he drawled, his voice cracking with glee. "Some kind of map, eh? Using this to get around the castle, are we?"

Harry looked on with rising apprehension as Filch released his tight hold on Sirius' arm to better examine the map. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Sirius' right hand dart over to his left sleeve, his fingers reaching in to grab his wand and Harry knew instantly what Sirius was planning to do.

Acting on pure impulse, Harry snatched up his own wand from where he had discarded it earlier and leveled it at the confiscated parchment.

"Mischief Managed," he whispered. The command was hushed, spoken in a faint undertone, but it pulled Filch's focus for the briefest of moments. He looked up from his intense scrutiny of the anomalous map, eyed Harry with uncertainty, then returned his attention to the now blank piece of parchment in his hands.

"What the–?"

"That's nothing, Mr. Filch," Sirius supplemented, a small smile curving his lips as he flashed a quick glance at Harry. "Just some extra parchment of mine."

Harry had seen Filch's face contorted in anger on several occasions during his time at Hogwarts – the worst few being when Mrs. Norris was petrified, the time Peeves pummeled the students with water balloons in the Great Hall and of course, when Dumbledore was reinstated as Headmaster after Umbridge was outed – but he had to admit the look of absolute fury on the man's face right now could rival any of those instances.

"Extra parchment, eh? Well, then you won't mind a damned bit if I keep it then, will you now?" Filch growled, his features twisted into an expression that would make Mad-Eye Moody look downright attractive by comparison. Shoving the map into the pocket of his coat, he grabbed Sirius' arm once more with even more force and yanked him toward the doors.

Sirius let himself be led, but as the two reached the exit of the infirmary, he pulled himself free from the caretaker's firm grip and turned back around.

"You're wrong, Gray," he called out, his voice calm for once, revealing none of its earlier anger or frustration. Those cool, blue depths, so fiery with rage before, emanated nothing but steely determination as their owner continued with his adamant declaration.

"James will survive. I'll do everything in my power to make sure that he stays safe. And you..."

Filch growled and grabbed the scruff of Sirius' neck, infuriated at his defiance.

"What about me?" Harry asked, uncertain as to whether he would even get an answer with his future godfather now fighting off a livid Filch.

With a great heave, Filch pushed a resisting Sirius through the doors and out of sight. However, Sirius' incomplete statement reached Harry's ears anyway, shouted at the top of his lungs from out in the corridor.

"I'll make sure you never feel love for that greasy, evil bastard! NEVER!"

Harry blinked, still staring at the closed infirmary doors. Sirius' parting words rang in his ears, echoing throughout his overburdened brain and causing his mixed-up emotions to swell and roil. He closed his eyes and brought his hands to his face, running trembling fingers through his hair and then grasping the strands in frustration.

He was so tired of this. All of this. The pain, the grief, the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty and powerlessness brought on by this venture through time.

"Mr. Skye... the remaining potion, if you please," came the much milder and calmer voice of Madam Pomfrey. She had emerged from her office and was now approaching his bed with tempered steps, her eyes fixed on the untouched vial beside his bed.

Harry, too, turned his gaze toward the potion. He could tell it was Dreamless Sleep by its vivid violet hue. Not since his return from the graveyard in fourth year had he taken this particular potion, yet he could recall with precise clarity the blissful void of thought and emotion it engendered.

The idea of surrendering to a similar state of nothingness now was more than tempting.

With a trembling hand, Harry grabbed the vial and drank the entire contents in one gulp. He winced at the familiar flavor and thick consistency, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue.

Madam Pomfrey took the empty vial from his slackening grip, placing it back on the table. She sighed as she turned back to regard Harry, her weary brown eyes emanating a trace of sadness as they locked with his own. Without a word, she turned away from him and exited the infirmary, leaving him alone with his confused thoughts at last.

Harry lowered his head to his pillow, burying his face into its warmth and softness. He was already feeling the potion's initial effects, his eyelids heavy and drooping and his brain beginning to cloud. With effort, he attempted to forestall the forceful draw of sleep, directing his sluggish mind back to his future godfather's final words instead.

James will survive. I'll do everything in my power to make sure that he stays safe.

The impassioned statement sounded more like a promise than a threat, but Harry couldn't help but be unnerved by the adamance with which it was spoken. It was obvious that Sirius had little understanding of the rigidity of time. Or maybe he did understand it but was choosing to ignore it. Either way, Harry knew that Sirius had no power to make good on that promise, but still... he couldn't help but wonder...

Was it possible that Sirius' staunch resolve to affect change in his future... did in fact result in the shaping of known events in Harry's past?

Could that determined promise have been the reason behind some of the adult Sirius Black's more impulsive and reckless decisions?

Again, Harry felt his focus dilate, his mind loosening its firm hold on his thoughts as the effect of Dreamless Sleep became more insistent, harder to fight. He resisted once more, squeezing his eyelids together and gritting his teeth as he willed himself to bring a memory into sharper focus – the details of which had always struck Harry as odd... almost illogical...

It was a conversation that took place over four years ago in the Shrieking Shack. Sirius had been explaining the reasons behind his last minute decision to switch Lily and James' Secret-Keeper... he had referred to that ill-fated decision as a... a... bluff. Yes, that was it.

Sirius had called it a bluff. He had explained that switching their Secret-Keeper from himself to Peter Pettigrew was a contrived deception – one that was meant to fool Lord Voldemort and throw him off their trail.

But after hearing Sirius' steadfast oath just moments ago, to do whatever he could to keep James safe and to prevent his predestined demise, Harry had to wonder...

Was it really Voldemort that Sirius was trying to trick with that swap?

Or was it fate?

Could that unexpected and rather rash decision simply have been his godfather's botched attempt to forestall the inevitable, a desperate effort to make good on his promise to alter the future and in turn, save his best friend's life?

That seemed more plausible to Harry than Sirius' original explanation – that he had changed the Potters' Secret-Keeper to their least brave and most inept friend in a misguided crack at subterfuge.

And as for Sirius' final vehement declaration...

I'll make sure you never feel love for that greasy, evil bastard! NEVER!

Even under the influence of the potion's forceful sway, his eyelids now too heavy to lift and his coherence slipping into swift ambiguity, Harry had little trouble deciphering the meaning behind those words – nor did he find it difficult to pinpoint the moments when Sirius acted upon that angry vow.

All those slandering remarks about Severus...

The snide comments.

The countless derisive, belittling vilifications.

And his absolute fury upon learning Severus would be teaching Harry Occlumency.

Harry strove further against the potion's mind-numbing effects as he fought to recall that awkward meeting in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place back in his fifth year. Sirius had been right there with him while Severus announced their upcoming lessons, and he had been more than livid at the prospect of Harry and Severus spending private time together. In fact, he had even refused to leave the two of them alone in that kitchen.

At the time, Harry had assumed his godfather's actions were motivated by hatred for his childhood nemesis or that his anger was fueled by the fear that perhaps Severus would harm Harry. Now however, it looked as though that hostile, over-the-top protective display was just Sirius' way of trying to prevent his godson and Severus from becoming too close.

Again Harry squeezed his eyelids more firmly together, shaking his head as swift oblivion was once again creeping in, splintering his current reflection. He was feeling hopelessly groggy now, his limbs and head bearing an unnatural, oppressive heaviness and his thoughts scrambled and indistinct.

Just before Harry gave in to the insistent draw and let himself drift into unwitting slumber, a transient reflection flitted across his sluggish mind, something he thought he heard Sirius mention in passing.

Something about a potion.

A potion Severus had been making for himself and... for Lily?

The confused rumination left as quickly as it came, leaving Harry's exhausted, hazy brain baffled and wondering in its wake. A moment later, all sentient thought and bewildered consternation dissolved into mindless nothingness, sleep overtaking him at last.

o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -

In stark contrast to the flurry of activity from the day before, Thursday and Friday were much more subdued with no surprising visitors or shocking revelations.

Harry did receive a visit from James after breakfast Thursday morning, but that turned out to be not so much shocking as it was uncomfortable. They sat in silence for a long while, James with his head down, elbows on knees and hands twisting together in apprehension. When at last he spoke, head still lowered and voice strained with emotion, he thanked Harry for coming to Lily's aid and for throwing himself in front of that Crucio to spare Sirius.

Harry's heart clenched upon hearing those heartfelt words of thanks, realizing just how difficult this whole ordeal must have been for his future father. Harry imagined James sitting by his future wife's bedside, overcome with worry as he prayed for her recovery while agonizing over just how close he had come to losing her – her and his future son. No doubt that anxiety was made even more oppressive by the knowledge that his own fated demise loomed ever nearer.

Harry was just about to respond to James' emotional expression of gratitude, when all of the sudden the latter's head shot straight up, hazel eyes blazing with vexation as he pinned Harry with a reproachful glare. He then launched into an admonishing tirade, scolding Harry for what he had just finished thanking him for – for taking such an enormous risk and almost getting himself killed.

The unexpected plunge into parental mode had Harry gaping, eyes wide and voice stifled into temporary muteness.

His future father's pendular emotional outburst soon took another abrupt swerve when a split second later, he began to sound off about Sirius' rash behavior from the night before. He was furious with his best friend for taking his invisibility cloak without permission and for losing the map, going on and on about how Harry would never get to use it at Hogwarts now that Filch was in possession of it.

Feeling as though his future father could do with some good news for a change, Harry informed him of how he would happen upon the map in his third year by a sheer stroke of luck. James' whole face lit up at that disclosure, his wide grin turning into an even wider one when Harry threw in that the map had served him well during his Hogwarts years.

Despite the fact that their visit ended on a good note, Harry had to admit that the whole of it was just... odd. One part brotherly, one part paternal and all of it awkward. Harry appreciated his James' gratitude and his budding fatherly concern, but he couldn't deny the feeling of relief that washed over him once their bewildering discussion came to an end and his future father finally took his leave.

Besides James, Harry's only visitor was Severus. He came to see Harry three times a day like clockwork – once before breakfast, again during lunchtime and then at seven in the evening where he would stay until Madam Pomfrey kicked him out at curfew.

The majority of their time together was spent studying as NEWTs were only a few days away, but they were able to sneak a few kisses and quick embraces whenever Madam Pomfrey left the ward to spend time in her office. These small moments of closeness, despite their brevity, kept Harry's frustration with being bedridden much more manageable.

In all their visits together, however, Severus never once brought up the attack. Harry assumed he was too preoccupied, his attention split between schoolwork and those stolen moments of furtive passion, but this time Harry relished the avoidance. After that emotionally-draining and stressful visit Wednesday night, Sirius Black was the last person he wanted to discuss.

By Friday morning, Harry had regained almost all of his strength and coordination and the worst of his pain had ceased. Madam Pomfrey was so pleased with his progress that following dinner that same day, she pronounced him well enough to leave the Hospital Wing, providing that he return in a week's time for a check-up. Her only warning to him was to be careful not to injure himself, explaining that his nerves were still hypersensitive and could be set off by something as benign as a papercut. The cautionary tidbit was a bit disconcerting, as well as open-ended since Madam Pomfrey neglected to mention how long his hypersensitivity would last. When he asked her this specific question, she pressed her lips together into a severe line and averted her eyes, muttering something about the unpredictability and complexity of Dark curses under her breath.

The blatant sidestepping of his query only heightened Harry's unease, but as luck would have it, that unease was temporary.

After navigating through the droves of students leaving the Great Hall after dinner and entering what was now his and Severus' private seventh-year Slytherin dormitory due to the expulsion of Avery and his cohorts, Harry was greeted with a beaming smile that was more than enough to annihilate his remaining concerns over his health.

Severus was in the act of packing his school bag, most likely in preparation for visiting the Hospital Wing, but that task was abandoned in favor of pulling Harry close and claiming his mouth. The familiar feel of that assertive tongue sliding along the seam of his lips, and then pushing in and twining with his own tongue drove Harry to a blissful state of mindless incoherency in a matter of seconds.

"Let's go to the cottage," Severus whispered, his lips warm and wet against Harry's as he spoke the invitation amid blistering kisses.

Harry had no memory of responding to Severus' suggestion, so arrested by the boy's avid attention, but he must have. The next thing his distracted brain registered was his school bag being thrust into his hands while Severus hastened to stuff a few more books into his bag before slinging its strap over his shoulder. Harry mimicked the gesture, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder while attempting to ready himself for a long night of studying. It wasn't until Severus approached him a moment later sporting a surreptitious smirk with a single raised eyebrow, that Harry became clear-headed enough to decipher the true intention behind his suggestion.

Blushing at his naivete and shivering in anticipation, he followed Severus out of the dungeons, across Hogwarts' grounds and into the Forbidden Forest. His heart was beating faster than their pace warranted as one thrilling thought ricocheted around his brain over and over again... that rule about no recreational activities on weeknights was about to be bent... or perhaps broken completely.

It was just after seven o'clock when he and Severus reached the cottage. Harry hadn't realized just how much he had missed the feeling of home and safety engendered by their mutual sanctuary until he stepped past the stark wooden fence and entered the lush grounds. Due to a brief rainstorm that occurred earlier in the day, the atmosphere was now refreshing and crisp, the break from the incessant heat a welcome change. Breathing the cool evening air deep into his lungs, Harry stopped to scan the familiar surroundings, taking in the tranquil view of fledgling twilight.

The sun was low in the sky, its waning illumination intermittent as it flickered through the leaves and branches of the towering trees. For once, the sky was cloudless, showing a near limitless expanse of deep azure coalescing into brilliant orange along the horizon's fiery fringe. The peaceful scenery combined with the soft sounds of leaves rustling in the cool, evening breeze kindled a kind of deep, limpid calm to permeate Harry's spirit.

His reflective reverie was interrupted by the gentle caress of warm fingertips grazing the palm of his hand then trailing their way down to the very tips of his own fingers. Those slender fingers aligned themselves with Harry's before sinking in between them and closing around the back of his hand like a lover's embrace. The simple act, done so many times over the past three weeks, somehow felt more intimate – more sensual – than ever before and Harry's heart inexplicably sped up at the feeling of closeness inspired by the touch.

With a subtle tilt of his head and a squeeze to Harry's hand, Severus beckoned Harry to follow him further across the cottage grounds. He walked with decisive steps as he guided Harry to the farthest bank of the pond where a large oak tree stood alone near the water's edge. Once they reached the lofty tree, Severus turned to face Harry, dark eyes locking with grey ones in a fiery gaze.

Harry's breath hitched as he looked into those fathomless pools of black, the profundity of pure longing and hunger within them sending his own desire skyrocketing. Unwilling to wait a moment longer to feel Severus' touch or to taste his mouth and breath in his distinctive, arousing scent, Harry placed his hands on either side of that thin face and coaxed Severus closer until those soft lips were pressed against his own.

As if released from a cage of self-restraint, Severus attacked like a wild animal, latching on to Harry's mouth and plunging his tongue in over and over again. That skillful tongue reduced Harry to a state of raw, breathless need in no time, swirling around his own tongue and tracing patterns along the inside of his cheeks and the roof of his mouth. Slender fingers clenched the fabric of Harry's shirt at his hips, forcing it up a few inches, the warm, soft skin of Severus' inner wrists brushing against Harry's newly exposed skin as he drove the both of them backwards.

Harry was vaguely aware of his back making contact with the tree but was soon incapable of deciphering anything else as Severus abandoned his mouth and attacked his neck instead. Rapacious lips danced across the surface of Harry's skin, kissing and teasing and caressing while that eager tongue flicked out to trail long, wet licks up and down. Those crooked teeth soon joined the fervent onslaught, nipping and biting at the wet skin. When they dragged their way up to that sensitive spot under Harry's ear and bit down with more force than usual, an eruption of intense pleasure like Harry had never before experienced shot through him, causing his whole body to seize up and tremble.

"Ahhh... Sev... I... ohhh fuck!"

Harry's knees buckled, his muscles feeling like liquid lethargy as he slid down the trunk of the tree and collapsed onto the soft ground. Gasping for breath and doubled over, he squeezed his eyes shut as he rode out the ebbing waves of blissful stimulation, shivering, fingers clutching the overgrown blades of grass at the base of the tree.

"Gray? Are you alright? Shit... did I hurt you?"

Harry's attention was wrenched away from the receding waves of pleasure, the urgent concern in Severus' voice prompting him to open his eyes.

Severus was now sitting in the grass in front of Harry with his knees tucked under him, his brow wrinkled with worry. He brought a tentative hand up to Harry's neck and placed his thumb to the area of skin his teeth had been only seconds earlier, caressing the abused spot with tender, soothing touches.

"I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I was making you feel good, but..."

"You were," Harry breathed out. "Oh God, Severus, you were! I... I don't know what just happened. It was almost like..."

...an orgasm.

Of course, there was no way in hell Harry could say that word out loud to Severus, not without curling up into a lump of red-faced embarrassment right after. Abashed into reticence, Harry averted his gaze and chewed on his lower lip, blushing a fiery red all the same.

When he peered up once more, it was to see Severus staring at him, head cocked to one side and eyes narrowed in rapt contemplation. A moment later, that pensive expression changed. One dark brow raised up in question, disappearing beneath wayward strands of ebony hair while one corner of that thin mouth curved up in the beginnings of a wily smirk.

Harry sputtered, blushing even hotter when Severus leaned closer, his piercing gaze growing more and more mischievous and those hungry, dark eyes now brimming with artful intrigue.

"Did you just...?" Severus began, but his words tapered off into anticipatory silence. He filled the silence with an even more probing look of blazing curiosity which seemed to drive deep into Harry, that uneven smirk maturing into a devious grin.

"No!" Harry squawked. "I didn't... honest! I... I mean, it felt like I did but..."

His meager attempt to explain the odd occurrence dwindled into another bout of awkward silence, when all at once, his conversation with Madam Pomfrey from only an hour ago returned to him, her final words of warning prompting a surprising illumination, one that offered insight to his current quandary.

It seemed not every side effect associated with hypersensitive nerves was detrimental... or undesirable.

"Um... I think that curse Avery hit me with may have heightened my... um... my sensitivity to pleasure as well as pain," Harry explained, his cheeks still hot as he looked into Severus' eyes to gauge his reaction.

He wasn't sure what he expected to see within those ebony depths – surprise, anxiety... concern, maybe – but the look of absolute excitement he found there instead nearly took his recently acquired breath away.

"Is that so?" Severus drawled, his devilish smile broadening. "Hmmm... let's test this theory of yours, shall we?"

Inching closer to the tree, Severus rested his back against its wide trunk. He wrapped his arms around Harry, maneuvering him so that he was seated between Severus' long legs, his back pressed against Severus' chest.

Harry wanted to say something – more in question than in protest – but he never got the chance. Just as he turned his head to inquire about their odd position, a rush of hot breath grazed his neck, prompting him to lose all semblance of thought or inquisitive curiosity.

With slow, methodical deliberation, gentle fingertips joined those soft, sensual breaths on his neck, trailing a feather light path all the way up the long column of skin from his collarbone to just behind his ear. Then, those long fingers threaded through the strands of wavy hair at the nape of Harry's neck and pushed them aside, exposing more of his skin to the ghosted rush of warm, wet breath. Tantalizing, thin lips took the place of the loose locks, pressing soft, barely-there kisses from the base of his shoulder to the shell of his ear.

A steady flow of intense, tingling sensations surged through Harry as a result of the teasing touches, hurling him right back into that heightened state of stimulation, his body humming with desire. Pulling his lower lip into his mouth again, he chewed and worried the tender skin, his muscles shaking and his heart racing as he permitted those exquisite sensations full reign.

Severus did not lessen his sensual assault. In fact, he doubled his efforts, abandoning Harry's ear and placing his mouth to that spot below just below it. He captured the sensitive skin in between his teeth and sucked on it with earnest while he tightened his grip around Harry's waist.

By the time that skillful mouth released its dominated prize and those lips returned to his ear, Harry was a quivering mess of raw need, breathless and trembling all over.

"How do you feel, Gray?"

"Ahhh... good... so good," Harry breathed, his heavy lids falling the rest of the way over half-lidded eyes. The distrait orbs no longer sought to see as a feral heat began to pool and churn in his abdomen.

The arms around him tightened, pulling him back further into a lean body, his backside now flush against what was unmistakably a growing erection. When Severus thrust up with his hips, driving his arousal further against his trembling body, Harry couldn't help the low, needy moan that escaped his lips.

That moan acted like a sexual catalyst, spurring Severus into action. He grabbed the bottom of Harry's shirt and forced it up, yanking it over his head in one quick motion and then tossing it aside. Those slender hands were all over Harry a second later, rubbing and caressing his clenching stomach muscles and his heaving chest, skating over perspiration dampened skin. One adventurous hand traveled up to Harry's left nipple, fingertips circling the tight bud and then pinching it lightly.

The teasing caress nearly pulled another moan from Harry and he arched his back, gasping for breath again.

The hand on his chest descended, joining Severus' other hand at Harry's stomach, both sets of fingertips skimming along the exposed skin just above the waistband of his jeans. Soon, those exploring hands moved downward to Harry's thighs, rubbing the clothed muscles that were flexing and clenching beneath the thick fabric, and then up again where they stilled themselves on Harry's hipbones.

Breathless and trapped within a pleasure-induced delirium, Harry let his head fall back onto Severus' shoulder, not sure his neck could hold its weight any longer. With his eyes still clamped shut, he took a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow his thundering heart while still conscious of those eager hands gripping his sides. They were stationary, but he knew they wouldn't be for long. He was certain Severus was not yet finished testing his theory.

He was proven right a moment later when the top button of his jeans was unclasped and the zipper pulled down at a heart-stopping, slow pace.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, the realization of what was about to happen heightening his already searing desire.

"Gray... how do you feel?" Severus whispered against his ear, the words almost indiscernible amid a rush of shaky breaths.

Without waiting for an answer, slender thumbs hooked into the waistband of Harry's jeans and wrenched them down past his hips, exposing his boxer shorts to the cool night air. The front of the fabric was stretched taut, his aching member pushing up against its clothed imprisonment, darkening it with drops of pre-come.

Harry's hands were gripping the thin material of Severus' trousers, balled into tight fists on either side of the lean thighs confining him, squeezing the fabric so hard his knuckles were white. Teeth grinding together and muscles quivering with anticipation, he suppressed a desperate cry for Severus to touch him as wave after wave of orgasmic stimulation crashed into him.

Severus must have understood his desperation, for a second later those long fingers seized the waistband of Harry's boxer shorts and pushed them down, freeing his pulsing erection at last.

"Oh God! Severus... please... please..."

"You want me to touch you?" Severus breathed out, his composed, seductive tone foregone, replaced by a needy, throaty groan.

"YES! Oh God... YES!" Harry cried, too aroused right now to feel any sort of modesty at his state of undress.

"Open your eyes... I want you to watch," Severus commanded, his voice louder now, husky with desire and need.

Harry did what he was told, opening his eyes and then peering down just in time to see Severus wrap his long fingers around his erection.

Those delicate, slender fingers were powerful as they gripped Harry's engorged member at the base and slowly moved up, forcing the tender skin to gather near the tip and causing several pearly beads of pre-come to pool at the slit. Severus brought his other hand over and brushed his fingertips along the wet tip, smearing the drops there and rubbing them over the sensitive skin.

"S-S-Sev... Sev... I can't... Oh my God..."

Again, Harry's pleading words seemed to catapult Severus into further action. With one hand still gripping Harry's erection, he wrapped his other arm around Harry's waist again, heaving him up and then backwards so that he was now seated up on Severus' lap, the action also dragging his boxers halfway down his thighs. The new position caused Severus' clothed erection to rest in between his naked buttocks. As Severus rocked his hips forward and up, grinding against Harry, the rolling motion forced his hard, pulsating arousal to delve further into Harry's exposed cleft while the hand clutching his throbbing length squeezed the base again.

Harry opened his mouth in a silent cry, unable to even generate sound past his clenching throat. Those waves of pleasure were more like a torrential flood now, submerging him, immersing him in a raging storm of coital ecstasy.

Severus began to pump Harry's engorged flesh, increasing the pace every few strokes while still driving his own erection hard against Harry's backside. After a few seconds, the rhythm of both sensual actions melded, the motion of Severus' hand and his hips becoming synchronous.

The concurrent sensations were too much.

With his back arched and a sharp breath seized inside his chest, trapped in the quivering mass of taut muscles spasming with feverish expectation, an eruption of unfathomable ecstasy tore through Harry's body.

It was as if a million individual explosions of mind-blowing pleasure detonated at once. His whole body shook with massive tremors as surge after surge of sharp bliss blazed through him again and again. The ecstatic sensations invaded every part of him, flowing through his veins and tingling his skin and every single muscle and nerve with little lurches and pops of penetrable rapture.

Harry heard himself cry out, the loud volume and whimpering pitch sounding foreign to him, especially when combined with the strange buzzing noise thrumming in his ears. Bright red and yellow pulsing shapes flitted across the inside of his closed eyelids like fiery eruptions, dancing and streaming in and out of view. He clamped his eyelids more firmly together in an attempt to clear the phantom contours, but it only seemed to heighten the visionary flickers and deepen their vivid hues.

At length, the jolts of intense pleasure began to ebb and the anomalous sounds and sights engendered by his orgasm faded. Harry felt his body begin to relax in the afterglow of satiation, his head lulling back onto Severus' shoulder again as he dragged breath after deep breath of cool air into his starved lungs.

It seemed a long while before his heart slowed to a more normal pace and his perspiration damp skin cooled from its previous fiery heat, even longer before his lucid mind began to return to him. He opened his bleary, leaden eyes, blinking several times to right his focus.

The sight that greeted his clearing vision leveled the last vestiges of sluggishness from his mind, embarrassment slamming into place alongside his newly acquired awareness.

With his shirt lying discarded a few feet away to his right, all he had on were his jeans gathered around his knees, boxers a few inches higher and the trainers on his feet which, Harry noticed, were resting at the base of two deep ditches in the soil which he must have gouged out at some point with the heels. The evidence of his release was splattered across his bare thighs and his stomach as well, the warm, slick liquid cooling in the breezy night air. Severus' long fingers, which were still curled around his now softening erection were also dotted with his semen.

Feeling a hot blush suffuse his face, Harry released a long, tense breath and unclenched his fists, liberating the bunched up material of trousers he had been gripping. He eased himself off of Severus' lap, still not looking at him.

The fingers wrapped around his length remained as Harry leaned to the side to grab his wand out of his abandoned school bag. After casting two cleaning charms, the first on his own slicked skin and the second on Severus' wet fingers which he gently removed from their previous position, he took hold of the waistbands of his jeans and boxers and slid them back into place. He didn't bother to fasten the button or the zip.

Almost hesitantly, he turned around to face the boy who had reduced him to a mindless pile of pulsing pleasure and pressed his mouth to those thin lips.

They were warm and wet and the breath escaping them labored.

Harry placed a tentative hand on Severus' chest and was taken aback by the frantic beats thudding beneath his ribcage. Withdrawing from the kiss, he looked into those dark eyes, noticing that they were half-lidded and blazing with desire. Severus' entire body was trembling and his pallid skin was flushed and hot to the touch. Harry let his gaze fall downward, to the large swell of Severus' sateless erection pushing hard against the placket of his trousers.

It was only then that Harry realized Severus had yet to climax. The thought caused a ripple of renewed excitement to stir in his abdomen, his pulse speeding up again.

Whatever shyness Harry had felt a moment ago was now gone, replaced by staunch determination. As he looked into those dark, wanting eyes, his only goal was to make Severus feel as good as he had made him feel moments ago, the urge to give the boy he loved that same kind of mind-blowing pleasure overtaking all other thoughts or concerns.

"Severus," Harry whispered, leaning closer, "I want to touch you, too. Will you let me?"

A silent nod was his answer, those onyx eyes darkening even further.

Repositioning himself, Harry placed his knees on either side of Severus, straddling him, sitting back on those slender thighs. He leaned forward and claimed Severus' mouth again, making it his, biting down on that irresistible lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. With his hands gripping the sides of Severus' face to hold him in place, Harry ravaged that hot, wet mouth, driving his tongue in and out the same way Severus had done to him numerous times before.

A low moan issued from deep in Severus' throat at Harry's attentions, long arms lifting and coming around his back to pull him closer.

Not wanting to be drawn away from his endeavor, Harry denied the embrace, grabbing those bony wrists and guiding them down to hang loose at Severus' sides. He pulled away from their passionate kiss and sat back on Severus' thighs a little more, putting most of his weight on the balls of his feet. With hands that shook a little, he yanked open the top button on Severus' trousers and pulled down the zipper, revealing navy blue boxer shorts that were stretched thin as if straining to confine Severus' hard length.

Excitement flooded Harry as his fingers curled around the waistband at Severus' hips and pulled the fabric down a few inches, revealing the thick, turgid head of Severus' erection. The smooth-looking skin was a flushed, reddish color and was slicked with pre-come, several drops of the thick fluid moistening the slit and more escaping down the sides of the swollen head.

The arousing sight rekindled Harry's own quiescent desire, his half hard erection compressed against his boxers, thickening and lengthening once more, pulsing in time with his rapid heartbeats.

Driven by the need to touch Severus' swollen flesh, to feel its fiery heat against the palm of his hand, Harry tightened his grip on the boy's trousers and pulled them down, freeing that hard length at last. Without a hint of hesitation, Harry pressed his palm to the very center of the hard shaft and wrapped his fingers around its considerable girth. It was hot and damp against his calloused hand, the wet trails of seminal fluid coating the underside and making the velvety skin slick.

"Ahhh... Gray...Mmmm..."

At the flustered utterances, grey eyes flicked upwards, taking in Severus' red cheeks and open mouth. With his right hand still gripped around the base of Severus' erection, Harry inched closer and brought his left hand up to cup the back of his slender neck, fingers threading through the ebony locks. Leaning forward, he placed his lips to Severus', kissing him with tantalizing slowness, his tongue running along the edge of those thin quivering lips and his breath pushing into his parted mouth. He drew back a moment later, just enough to see the expression in those dark, lustful eyes as he squeezed the base of Severus' arousal and then lifted his hand in a slow, tight upward stroke.

"Fuck! Gray... Oh Gray... please..."

The pleading words surged through him like fire, like a wild smoldering rhapsody of need, his own erection aching and throbbing against its restraints.

"Please what?" Harry heard himself say, wondering vaguely where the hell his sexual daring had come from.

"Please... more..."

More.

That one word pierced Harry's mind like a well-cast Legilimens, latching onto its associated memory and propelling it to the forefront of his mind in a flash of sweet reminiscence, images of their first intimate moment together bursting into view...

That sensual kiss in the torrential rain... their drenched bodies clinging to one another... Severus thrusting against him, that hard erection grinding against his own again and again and again... and then the exquisite feeling of Severus' body on top of him, pushing him down, making him come...

Spurred on by the memory, Harry removed both of his hands from Severus and climbed off of his thighs. He ignored the desperate groan that met his ears and grabbed the waistband of his own jeans and boxers, shoving them all the way down past his trainers which he yanked off in frustration. He crawled back to Severus, resuming his previous position and straddling him once again. Only after he lowered his naked body to Severus' exposed lap and pressed their hard erections together, did Harry allow himself to look into those dark eyes.

A deep, burning hunger shone through those pools of black, penetrating Harry with a look of blazing intensity. His lips were parted in a silent cry, the muscles lining his jaw slack.

Shaking with desire, Harry placed his palms flat against that hard jaw, his fingers curving around the back of Severus' slender neck. Bringing his lips to within a hair's breadth away from Severus', he brushed a mere whisper of a kiss to the soft skin. Their eyes were locked as they inhaled each other's warm, labored breaths, their lips barely touching as silent anticipation engulfed them.

Unable to hold back any longer, his own arousal raging like a tempestuous storm, Harry pushed his hips forward causing their erections to grind together.

"Oh... Gray... I... I'm so close..." Severus whispered amid shallow, quickening breaths.

Harry thrust forward again... then again... and again.

Severus' hands, which were balled into tight fists at his side, now came up to Harry's hips, his thumbs delving into Harry's jutting hipbones while his long fingers splayed themselves on either sides of Harry's ass, squeezing and clenching the soft skin and coaxing their bodies closer together.

Again, Harry rocked his hips, pressing down and then driving forward.

Severus' grip tightened in response, his head lolling back onto the tree while a throaty breath escaped his open mouth. That long, lean body was shaking now, the lithe muscles in his legs constricting and flexing beneath Harry, preluding his rapidly approaching release.

Wanting to push Severus to that exquisite brink even faster, Harry drove their lips together again, taking possession of that lower lip and then plunging his tongue into that ready mouth. Then he bucked his hips one last time, their rigid lengths sliding together in a single, wet, hard thrust.

"Ahhhh! FUCK!" Severus screamed. His head dropped back, body curving upwards and fingernails digging into the skin of Harry's backside as he trembled through his orgasm.

Hot, thick streams of semen erupted from Severus' pulsating erection, splattering onto both of their stomachs and coating Harry's throbbing length with wet warmth. The intense, erotic sensation triggered wave after wave of mind-numbing ecstasy to crash over Harry. Squeezing his eyes shut and throwing back his head, Harry circled his hips – once, twice, three times. The intoxicating feel of hard, wet and aroused flesh sliding together only intensified the tight heat coiling and building in his abdomen, his pleasure skyrocketing and his consciousness slipping into mindless oblivion.

"Oh... Oh God..." Harry breathed, his whole body stiffening. He was right back on that edge again... so close... so damned close...

Long fingers gripped Harry's shoulders and pulled him down. A second later, a strong tongue was invading his mouth, pushing in and out with fierce intensity.

The mimicking sexual act pushed Harry over that edge. His orgasm, just as intense as the last one, raced through him with ferocity. He clung to Severus through the intense eruptions of sensation, his hips still bucking as he rode wave after wave of sharp pleasure. Little white spots exploded in his field of vision this time, pulsing and flaring while that odd humming sound buzzed in his ears again.

When Harry opened his eyes at length, it was to a shroud of darkness flecked with sporadic pops of luminescence. He closed them again, suddenly feeling dizzy. Lightheaded... and disoriented... and...

"Gray... GRAY! Answer me!"

"Wh-what? What… what happened?"

Sprawled out on his back, Harry could feel the cushion of soft grass beneath him and the brush of cool air on his damp skin. Warm fingers were raking through his hair, a calloused thumb stroking his cheek. Harry blinked, his eyes slow to focus as those shadowy edges girding his vision began to fall away.

"Look at me."

Harry squinted, forcing his focal point closer until at last, worried, dark eyes shimmered into view.

"Severus? What just happened?"

"You blacked out," Severus answered, a faint quiver to his voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have instigated this. You're not well enough–"

"I am! Severus, I'm fine. Really," Harry interrupted, propping himself up on his elbows and pushing himself up to a seated position. His dizziness had abated now and his vision was once again crystal clear. He reached out to Severus, encircling his arms around those slender shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. With his lips pressed to the curve of Severus' neck, he breathed in the scent of his love and feathered reassuring kisses along the warm, damp skin.

"I thought I was going to have levitate you to the Hospital Wing," Severus murmured, "and what a sight that would have been... you, floating along, naked and covered in our collective carnal remains."

Harry blushed and chuckled against the hollow of Severus' neck, the image too ridiculous to disregard.

"Seriously, Severus. I feel fine now. I guess I just exerted myself a bit too much there at the end. But..." Harry added, his face tinged with heat again as he pulled away to look into those dark eyes, "it was amazing... feeling you against me..."

Severus brought a hand back up to Harry's cheek, fingertips sliding along the warm skin and disappearing within strands of wavy hair. Those ebony eyes were piercing as they gazed into grey ones, emanating a vast depth of emotion and a profusion of pure, abiding affection.

Harry's heart stuttered in his chest as he looked into those soulful depths, his breath hitching, held captive in his lungs. The love inside him swelled with impatience, restless in its need to be acknowledged. The words of avowal played about his lips, rumbling in his throat and dancing on his tongue, yearning to be voiced.

I love you, Severus. Oh God... I love you so much. I don't want to leave you...

His unspoken words disintegrated in his throat and on his lips where they burned like the dying embers of a cooling fire, his heart clenching with love and guilt unrevealed as his mind refused their deliverance.

Oblivious to Harry's silent anguish, Severus closed the gap between them, dark lashes brushing against pale skin as tenebrous orbs disappeared beneath their lids. Then those thin lips were pressed to Harry's, moving with deliberate slowness in a soft, gentle kiss.

"You, Gray Skye," the whispered words bringing a rush of warm air against Harry's lips, "will undoubtedly be my undoing."

o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -

"Surely you're not nervous about this one, Gray. You're brilliant at Defense."

It was just after lunch, Monday afternoon.

Harry and Severus were seated on the stone floor of the Entrance Hall with the rest of the seventh-year Defense Against The Dark Arts students, books open on laps and wands raised in a flurry of last minute spell practice. All were anxiously awaiting the muffled groan of the Great Hall's ancient oak doors being pushed forward, the low reverberation indicative of another four test-takers being summoned.

Though the reason behind their classmates' unease was obvious, Severus was mistaken in assuming that Harry's anxiety was of a similar nature. The prospect of their first NEWT exam of the week was not the source of Harry's consternation – not by a long shot. With fewer than six days remaining in this time, a glowing performance on his NEWT Defense practical was far from a priority.

A moment later, the heavy doors released their audible grievance as expected, prompting more than a dozen distressed faces to snap up.

"Perez, Ella – Phillips, Liam – Potter, James – Reynolds, Rosa."

James was the first to his feet, leaping up the instant Professor McGonagall called his name. There was a steely edge to his features as he hastened his way past her and entered the Great Hall. In contrast, the two Hufflepuff girls and the Ravenclaw boy that followed him looked much more apprehensive, their wands held in white-knuckled grips at their sides and their faces ashen. When the doors swung shut behind them, the rest of the throng resumed their belated cramming, eyes glued to textbooks once again.

Harry released a strained breath. Not even the brief glimpse of his future father was enough to distract him from his encompassing dread. This panic was too profound, unremitting in its grip on his mind and heart.

And it had nothing to do with academics.

"I'm not nervous... just... just preoccupied," he offered, shoulders shrugging in an attempt at indifference.

Thin lips curved into a mischievous grin as Severus leaned closer to Harry to whisper in his ear. "Hmm, perhaps your thoughts are still lingering on the weekend's... activities."

The words, uttered in a seductive undertone, prompted a cool shiver to race down Harry's spine. While Severus' second attempt to pinpoint the source of his edgy demeanor was still not correct, it was at least closer to the truth. After all, their weekend together was difficult to forget.

Following their intimate moment Friday night, he and Severus remained at the cottage for the rest of the weekend, only returning to the castle once early Saturday morning to nick food from the kitchens and then again that evening to shower and change clothes. The bulk of their time was spent studying, Severus fine-tuning his Mastery Potions project while Harry stared blankly at page after perplexing page of his Ancient Runes text, trying to make sense of it.

On several occasions, Harry attempted to draw Severus away from schoolwork in the hopes that they could discuss the inevitable. He had no idea what he would have said to Severus had he been successful in prying him away from his studies, but he knew they were long overdue for this conversation – a conversation where Harry finally confessed to the boy he loved that his days remaining in this time were in short supply.

Conversation, however, was not on Severus' agenda for the weekend – not with NEWTs starting on Monday. He brushed off Harry's attempts to sidetrack him again and again and instead, dedicated all his time to poring over his textbooks and notes, feverish in his attempt to soak up every last bit of knowledge before exams. When he wasn't nose deep in a book, he was bent over a steaming cauldron, one hand whisking its contents with agitated motions while the other scribbled illegible notes, all he while cursing frustrated obscenities under his breath.

With it all too clear that Severus was not up for a discussion, especially one with the potential to cause emotional devastation, Harry resigned himself to study. Or rather, he tried to study. Try though he did, he was unable to concentrate on anything educational, his mind fraught with dread and uncertainty.

Instead, he passed the time sitting cross-legged on the worn couch, a book or two open in his lap while he gazed at Severus immersed in his own studies. Harry relished the look of those dark eyes narrowed in concentration, the pale, smooth skin of his brow furrowed with anxiety. He watched those elegant, skillful fingers chop and measure, stared as they curled around the binding of a textbook or rifled through pages of notes. He just couldn't help but revel in the beautiful distraction that was Severus, knowing that his opportunity to do so would soon come to an end.

Fleetingly, Harry wondered how it was possible he could have spent six whole years in a classroom with the adult Severus and never once noticed these things. Then again, he supposed the man's snide remarks and caustic taunts had served to conceal whatever lay beneath that acerbic demeanor so that no one, including Harry, would dare look deeper. The dull ache in Harry's chest as he pondered this hinted at some profound, uncharted regret, but he did his best to ignore it; he had more than enough to stress about within this time without lamenting over missed opportunities during his own.

Evenings were much more enjoyable than the daytime hours as they were spent in Severus' bed. On Friday night, with the both of them still sated and exhausted from their earlier exploits, a deep, peaceful sleep overtook them almost instantly, their bodies a melding of entwined limbs and mingled breath as they held each other close in slumber.

Things got a bit more heated Saturday night. After only a few minutes of fiery kisses and eager, wandering hands, they found themselves divested of all of their clothes and were soon engaged in the same intimate act as the night before, this time with Severus controlling the pace and intensity. His strong, rhythmic thrusts had them both gasping for breath and clinging to one another, their sweat-slicked skin hot as their bodies pressed together. When Harry came, the waves of sensation were just as euphoric, just as razor-sharp in intensity as they had been out by the pond. The persistence of his lingering hypersensitivity was a little disconcerting, but Harry wasn't about to complain since the resultant heightened level of pleasure seemed to thrill Severus as much as himself.

As wonderful as his acute physical rapture had been, it was not, as Severus had just implied, responsible for Harry's current state of distraction. No, it was the emotional effect from their increasing intimacy that was driving his panic to new heights and fracturing his steady focus. He had known for a while now that he was in love with Severus, but having never felt this way before and with his almost nonexistent experience with physical closeness, Harry simply had not realized how much their intimacy would deepen that fledgling love, amplify that feeling of trust and want and need that blazed inside him like the everlasting flames of Gubraithian fire.

Every time Harry's thoughts drifted back to the details of their loving acts – the feel of their woven fingers, clenching and squeezing, the rhythm of Severus' heartbeat thudding fast and hard against Harry's chest, the exquisite heat of their bodies pressed together and the look of unabashed adoration in those cavernous pools of black – Harry's heart seemed to open more. Even the sting of vulnerability was not enough to quell the insistent emotion as his love was now laid bare, raw and wild and more powerful than any sentiment preceding it.

And the truth of the matter was that the word love just didn't seem strong enough or encompassing enough or deep enough to describe all of what he was feeling, but somehow the word panic did. For it was panic that was plaguing him now.

Drowning, strangling, relentless panic.

Five days left.

Five days until he would have to leave Severus, broken and fractured, devastated and utterly alone.

Five days until he would return to his own time, a time when the adult Severus could very well be dead unless Harry could somehow inspire the opposite outcome – an outcome he hadn't done a damned thing to achieve! And he was clueless... absolutely clueless... as to how to go about it.

Should he research antidotes in the hopes that by some miracle, he would stumble across one that could counteract Nagini's venom? And if he were able to achieve that long shot... then what? Persuade Severus to carry some with him at all times on the off chance he would need it? The very idea sounded ridiculous and damned near impossible to implement without giving away details of the attack, an event that wouldn't even occur for another twenty years. Even if Harry were successful in finding the correct anti-venom, there was still the fact that Severus' neck had been ripped open by the giant snake's massive fangs. No cure for poisonous venom could bring about the healing of fatal wounds. What could Harry possibly do now, two decades before the ill-fated event, that would allow Severus to survive after so much blood loss? What could he do to ensure the healing of those gruesome, gaping wounds?

My God! Severus was dying in that Shack... dying... and Harry still remained ignorant on how to inspire a change to what was beginning to look like a foregone conclusion.

And there were only five days left.

Five fucking days!

"Skye, Gray – Smith, Sean – Snape, Severus – Thompson, Kelly."

"We're up," Severus commented as he got to his feet and brushed the dust off the back of his robes.

They entered the Great Hall together. Severus was ushered to the furthest corner of the room where a short, plump woman sat awaiting his arrival, while Harry was beckoned forward by the examiner directly beside her.

In an interesting twist of irony, his examiner turned out to be the same one who had evaluated him for his OWL Defense practical two years ago, Professor Tofty. The ancient wizard looked a bit less lined and frail than the last time Harry had seen him, but his voice was just as wheezy and faint.

After casting an Immobilus on a cage full of mice, an Incarcerous on the empty chair beside Professor Tofty and then a Diffindo to sever the conjured ropes, Harry was asked to cast three shield charms, each one to be stronger and larger than the last. Those final three spells were the toughest, especially since it was required that they be cast non-verbally, but Harry managed with relative ease and all in all, was pleased with his efforts.

Professor Tofty seemed satisfied as well, dismissing Harry with no further requests, while Severus and the other two were still in the midst of their own exams. Harry was just about to leave the Hall when Severus' examiner issued a request that sounded so familiar, so coincidentally recognizable, that the feeling of deja-vu alone made him whirl around and take stock.

"Professor Gazzoni tells me that you are quite adept at the Patronus Charm, Mr. Snape. He mentioned that it is one of the most impressive he has seen. Would you care to demonstrate your talent... for a bit of extra credit?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Severus' wand was raised, the incantation to the familiar spell bellowed for all to hear.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Smiling in anticipation of seeing the huge, sweeping wings of that magnificent Chatham raven Patronus again, Harry watched with avidity as an explosion of lustrous radiance burst from the tip of Severus' ebony wand. Harry's eager grin soon morphed into an expression of stunned disbelief as he gazed at the brilliant creature that took shape amid the mass of blinding silver light. He blinked, his mouth falling open and his heart stuttering in his chest.

As the spectral avatar's form sharpened, she circled the room's occupants amid gasps of surprise and animated whispering, a shimmering wraith of dazzling luminescence trailing behind her.

Harry stared at the creature in astonishment, his eyes wide and his breath stunted. At length, he tore his gaze away from the beautiful apparition, peering up to look at her caster instead.

Those ebony eyes were as wide as Harry's, shock and uncertainty emanating from those fathomless depths while their owner stood transfixed, staring at the conjured manifestation of his inner spirit, his heart, his very soul.

Harry returned his focus to the cantering creature just as she abandoned her annular progression and approached him instead, her fluent steps purposeful as she drew ever nearer.

Heart pounding wildly against his ribcage and breath trapped in his clenching throat, Harry reached out to her, fingers outstretched. Then he placed his trembling hand on the beautiful slender head of Severus' new Patronus, the soulmate complement to his stag...

The silver doe.

Chapter End - TBC

A/N: Hello patient readers! Thank you SO MUCH for tolerating my lateness this time around. Life has been a bit crazy for me of late and given the length and emotional intensity of this chapter, I'm actually amazed I got the thing posted less than a week past my deadline. I do hope it was worth the wait.

YenGirl - thanks again for all your hard work and time invested in Beta-ing this incredibly long and intense chapter. You are my hero! :)

OK. As for an ETA for Chapter 14, I'm thinking April 30th. As always, if I am unable to meet that deadline, I will let you all know by updating my Bio.

By the way... only a few more chapters remaining before the exciting conclusion to this story. I hope you will stay with me until the end! :)

Please Review.