Chapter Fifteen -
I am yours
The instant Harry's whispered confession escaped him, those soft, thin lips withdrew from his own, their imparted warmth and comfort replaced by the biting chill of uncertainty.
Harry tensed, his heart racing again as renewed panic swept through him. He looked up and peered into those cavernous onyx eyes, suddenly terrified at what he might find within their soulful depths.
Severus' eyes were penetrative, leveling Harry with a probing gaze that seemed to reach far beyond his own shimmering pools of stormy grey as if seeking some inexorable truth, a timeless verity. The intense, searching expression was fleeting however, changing back into one of profound sorrow a second later. Several strained, shaky breaths escaped those thin lips that were now turned downward, quivering, while new tears gathered in those dark eyes.
Harry slid his hands past Severus' damp cheeks, his fingers threading through strands of ebony hair and then curling around the back of that slender neck. Desiring nothing but the return of those soft lips to his own and desperate to soothe the torrent of pain emanating from those tearful eyes, Harry pulled Severus closer, pressing a breathy kiss to those trembling lips as he choked out his remorseful lament.
"I'm sorry... Severus... I'm so sorry I left you there."
"Then why?" Severus breathed. "If you love me... why did you run away?"
Closing his eyes, Harry drew in a tremulous breath, the ache in his heart deepening as he realized he had no idea how he should answer that question.
In truth, he longed to make Severus understand the overwhelming fear and panic that had been consuming him for days now, if for no other reason than to expel the boy's every doubt regarding the depth of Harry's love for him. But how could he do that without revealing the true reason for his fear? Was it even possible to explain his own irrepressible anxiety without disclosing the truth about the perilous danger that awaited Severus in the future?
No, it wasn't possible, and he could never do that to Severus; he could never risk saying too much like he had done with his future father and with Professor Dumbledore. Unintentional though it was, Harry had revealed to James the truth of his own fated demise, and just days after having done the same thing to the Headmaster. The very idea of making that mistake a third time – with Severus – made Harry sick to his stomach.
This time, he would have to be cautious, very cautious. He had to say something to Severus by way of an explanation, but that didn't mean it had to be entirely forthcoming. Yes, he would have to be vague – sincere, but vague.
"I... I was afraid," Harry settled on, grey eyes opening at last to lock with Severus' sorrowful gaze.
"Of what?"
"Oh God, Severus, I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I want to, but I just can't. It has something to do with the future... your future… but it's something that you're not meant to know about for a long time."
Harry swallowed, trying to quell the tremor in his voice and soothe the burn in his throat. He took a deep breath, exhaled shakily, then continued.
"When I saw your doe patronus… when I touched her... memories of what happens in the future came flooding back to me and everything just became... too much... too real. I was overwhelmed and I just kind of lost control of my fear. But I swear to you… I swear, Severus… I never meant to hurt you when I ran away."
All of the sudden, the look of hurt emanating from those dark eyes changed, transforming into one of intense contemplation. Severus lowered his gaze, those crooked teeth capturing that lower lip and chewing it agitatedly while narrowed ebony eyes darted back and forth in a frenzied display of fraught rumination.
Harry froze as those eyes snapped back up to his, pinning him with an enigmatic expression – a look equal parts apprehension and tentative curiosity. That cryptic look alarmed Harry even more than the pained one preceding it.
"You told me weeks ago that you were here to..." Severus paused here, swallowing hard, his tongue coming out to wet that recently released lower lip. He breathed in a shaky breath, swallowed again, then spoke once more, his voice softer, more hesitant, "to... to ensure a positive outcome after a horrible event. You also said that this event involves me... that... that you came to help me..."
Harry's heart that had just begun to slow after his headlong flight started racing once again, the thunderous beats painful in his chest and thumping in his ears as he listened to Severus edge closer and closer to the harrowing truth. Suffocated by fear, his breath dying in his lungs, he waited with a fatalistic sense of déj à vu, somehow knowing exactly where this was going but feeling powerless to stop it.
"I... I die... don't I?"
Harry's last vestiges of composure seemed to crumble and wither away at Severus' words, the realization that he had once again allowed a horrific truth from the future to seep into the past propelling him into a desperate, out-of-control panic.
"No!" Harry protested, his fingers tightening their grip around Severus' neck almost possessively. "No... no, Severus... you don't! I mean, you won't... I won't let you!"
Despite the fierce adamance behind Harry's emphatic words, the emergence of fresh tears betrayed his uncertainty. They fell from his eyes with abandon, streaming down his face unhindered as a strangled sob escaped his lips. With a huge effort, he suppressed the cries that threatened to follow, forcing his quavering voice to form words instead. He needed to explain... to make Severus understand...
"That's why I left you in the Great Hall... I... I needed to figure out a way to stop... t-t-to prevent... and I still don't know how... b-b-but it WON'T happen, Severus. It won't! I WON'T LET YOU DIE!"
Immediately, Severus' unconditional embrace encompassed him, those long, slender arms wrapping themselves around his trembling form and claiming him once more. Whispered words of comfort brushed the shell of Harry's ear as Severus spoke to him in a steady rush of warm breath.
"Shhh... enough, Gray. Enough. Shhh..."
The soft susurrations lulled Harry into a state of uneasy repose. He whimpered as he buried his tear-streaked face into Severus' neck, his body tense and shaking and his mind unwilling to let go of his urgent need to explain. There was still so much more he needed to say, but Severus continued his ministrations, inspiriting Harry's silence with each soothing, yet firm directive.
"Shhh… enough... no more, Gray. No more," he breathed, tightening his grip around Harry, "please, I... I don't want to know anymore..."
Harry winced, noticing that there was much more than just a determination to provide comfort edging Severus' tone – there was also fear. And Harry hated himself for inspiring it.
Oh, why had he revealed so much? He should have had better control over his emotions. He should have repressed his fear and panic, bit back his oppressive anxiety long enough to deny Severus' guess regarding his own precarious fate. Harry's emotional and uncontrolled outburst had succeeded in doing nothing but unveiling the awful truth in the end, thanks to Severus' keen insight, and now Severus knew, knew of the peril that awaited him – not the details, but enough to understand that his life was endangered.
And there was nothing Harry could do or say to change that now.
"I'm so sorry..." he sobbed, his throat constricting as tears continued to fall from his swollen, burning eyes.
"Shhh..."
Severus ran his fingers through Harry's hair, repeating the gesture over and over as his other arm pulled Harry even closer.
The soothing recurrent touch and the warmth from Severus steady breaths grazing his cheek seemed to soften the sharp edge to Harry's tension, his sobs quietening to a faint whimper. His quick, pulsing breaths began to deepen and lengthen, his eyelids softening, his clenched fingers losing their tight grip. Soon, his mind was drifting, exhaustion winning out over panic as sleep tugged at him.
Just before succumbing to slumber's beguilement, a final whispered utterance met Harry's ears, obliterating what remained of his lingering torment and filling his heart with more hope and fortitude than Fawkes' lyrical timbre ever could...
"I love you, too, Gray... I love you, too."
o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -
"Come on, Gray. We need to get up. We have our Arithmancy NEWT at nine and it's nearly eight. We'll have to hurry if we want to... what on earth did you do to yourself?"
Long fingers wrapped themselves around Harry's wrist, gripping it with force and twisting it so that his forearm was turned upward.
"Hmm... wha–? Wha'd'you mean?" Harry mumbled, trying to shake off his grogginess and open his swollen eyes. He blinked several times before squeezing them shut again, the glaring sunlight streaming in through the cottage windows causing them to burn. Resigned to his sightless state – at least for a while longer – he turned his head away from the offending illumination, burying his face further into his pillow.
"Your arm, Gray... it's... bloody hell!"
Harry felt more fingers gripping his other wrist now, pulling it up, the action forcing him to abandon his comfortable curled-up position on his side in favor of rolling onto his back, both arms now outstretched for examination. Again, he attempted to open his eyes. He succeeded this time, lifting his eyelids just enough to see a concerned Severus, sitting cross-legged on the bed and peering down at him.
"How did you get these cuts?" Severus had released one of his wrists and was now tracing the contour of one of his nastier scratches with a gentle fingertip.
"Oh. Yeah. I... uh..." Harry broke off his explanation while he pushed himself up to a sitting position, grunting in pain as the muscles in his back clenched and throbbed in protest. His neck felt sore too, like an invisible hand was compressing it, and his head was also beginning to ache. Bringing his recently released hand up to his forehead, he pressed his fingers to one temple, hoping to alleviate the pain that was pulsating there.
"Gray... the cuts?"
"Right. The cuts. Sorry," Harry said, squeezing his eyelids together again in an attempt to dull the pain in his forehead. When no relief came, he sighed, then spoke again, his eyes opening once more to lock with Severus' worried gaze. "I went to the library yesterday after our Defense NEWT and I was there... well... I was there for a long time. After a while, I just couldn't stay awake any longer and I ended up falling asleep in my chair."
"Well, I suppose that explains your haggard appearance, but it doesn't account for your arms looking as though they were recently trampled on by a herd of stampeding hippogriffs," Severus remarked, his gaze once again lowering to Harry's injured arms, dark eyes roving the path of one long, angry mark. "So, how did you get these?"
"I had a dream... well, it was really more of a nightmare than a dream, I suppose," Harry added, then paused, wondering how much he should disclose. It didn't seem wise to reveal the dream's disturbing details, though Harry doubted Severus would make much sense of them since he himself couldn't fathom what most of them meant.
Mimicking Severus' intense scrutiny, Harry studied his arms. The long red streaks now looked inflamed, the skin surrounding the cuts almost as red as the cuts themselves. They hurt, too. Now that he was not so focused on the dull ache in his head and muscles, he could discern the sharp jabs of stinging pain racing up and down the length of both arms in relentless waves.
"I... I guess I must've scratched myself while I was dreaming," he finished, his voice softer now as a surge of embarrassment assailed him. He really should have healed them last night, but with everything else he was dealing with, his physical injuries were the last thing on his mind.
Severus did not comment on his extreme reaction to an unpleasant dream, nor did he inquire as to what the dream was about, much to Harry's relief. His only acknowledgement that he had even heard Harry's account was a small nod of his head, his focus still fixed on the long scratches. Pulling both of Harry's bare arms closer to him, he rested them on his lap and then placed his palms flush against the reddened skin, his brow furrowed in deliberation.
"Your skin is hot to the touch," he stated. "Infection is setting in."
Harry peered over Severus' shoulder to the bedside table in search of his wand. Seeing only Severus' lying there, he remembered that his was still in his schoolbag which he had shed haphazardly last night while stumbling through the dark cottage.
"Will you heal them for me?" Harry asked, pulling one arm free from under Severus' hand to reach for the boy's wand.
"No, Gray, not if they're infected. We'll need to get rid of the infection first."
Severus got off the bed and headed for his makeshift potions lab. He rummaged through a small crate under his worktable, the delicate sound of clinking glass alluding to the crate's contents. When he approached Harry again, he was holding two potion vials, one containing a pale yellow potion and the other, a deep emerald green one. After reclaiming his position on the bed and once again drawing Harry's arms toward him, he opened the first vial and poured several flaxen drops onto the inflamed skin of one arm.
Harry closed his eyes and hissed, the potion stinging his open wounds. Those painful twinges soon lessened when careful fingers began to spread the drops over the infected area.
"This potion will take a few hours to work, but once it does, the infection will be gone and I'll be able to heal you," Severus explained, his fingertips still working the cool liquid into Harry's skin. "I don't believe any of the scratches are deep enough to require the scar-fading potion, though we won't know for certain until after they've healed."
Harry opened his eyes and watched as Severus applied the potion to his other arm now, rubbing it in with slow, deliberate circles, his brow furrowed in concentration.
When he finished, he resealed the first potion bottle and then reached for the second one, placing it into Harry's hand.
"Drink this," he directed. "It will help alleviate your pain. It's not as strong as the painkilling potions Madam Pomfrey has at her disposal, but it should lessen your discomfort."
Not needing any more prompting with his head still pounding and his muscles aching in addition to the lingering twinges of pain from his wounds, Harry pulled the stopper from the vial, threw his head back and drank the dark green elixir in one gulp. Relief came almost at once, his pain dulling to a more manageable level.
"Thanks, Severus," Harry breathed, his eyelids falling closed for a moment while he exhaled a tense, fettered breath. He was still so tired and found himself pondering, not for the first time, when exactly it was that he'd made it back to the cottage last night. Judging from his abiding weariness, it couldn't have been more than just a few hours ago.
Trying to shake off his exhaustion, he made to get off the bed, but was stopped by a firm hand pressing down on his shoulder. It was soon joined by a second one placed on his other shoulder, both pushing him back to sit on the bed again.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked. "We have to go. Arithmancy NEWT, remember?"
"I will be taking the Arithmancy NEWT. You, however, will be staying here."
"What?"
"Come on, Gray. You and I both know why you've journeyed to this time and it's not to get all Os on all your exams. Besides, you don't have a chance in hell at passing that final. You're absolute rubbish in that class. Come to think of it, you might as well skive off Ancient Runes after lunch, too. You've already missed Astronomy."
Harry's eyes widened. He had...?
"It was last night. Ten o'clock," Severus added upon seeing Harry's bewildered expression. "Look... you need to sleep and recover. Just stay here today and get some rest. Please, Gray."
"But I want to be with you," Harry argued. "I know I screwed up yesterday. I never should have left you–"
Harry's words were cut off as Severus pressed his lips to his, kissing him softly. With gentle pressure, he pushed forward, coaxing Harry to lie back as he climbed on top of him, that lean body blanketing his own, slender hands coming to rest on either side of his face.
Melting into the sensual feel of Severus' warm lips moving against his own, Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' back, persuading him to lay more fully on top of him. Despite the intimate position, the kiss remained soft and sweet, and Harry felt his heart soar as he lost himself in the gentle salutation.
Severus ended the kiss and raised his head, his warm breath brushing against Harry's lips.
Harry's eyelids lifted, his gaze locking instantly with Severus'. The sight of those dark, emotive eyes radiating such love, such deep affection made Harry's heart stutter in his chest, his lips curving into a small smile.
"What was that for?" he whispered, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of Severus' head, his fingers carding through soft, ebony strands.
"For coming back to me," Severus replied, his words soft and faint, spoken as a gentle caress of warm breath ghosting over Harry's mouth.
Harry felt his heart clench, his mind sickened by the tragic relevance embedded deep within those five simple words. He placed both palms against those pale cheeks, his fingers still entwined within the dark locks that fell on either side of that thin face. Brushing his thumbs along the high cheekbones, he spoke, his voice hushed yet staunch with fierce resolve.
"Severus, I will always come back to you... always. Don't ever forget that."
Severus lunged forward, kissing Harry again, this time with more insistence. That strong tongue pushed its way into Harry's mouth, soft lips firming as they pressed down on his own, deepening their passion.
The familiar heat of arousal surging through Harry sped up his pulse, his body thrumming with jolts of rising pleasure.
"Mmmm... Sev..." he murmured as Severus began peppering kisses along his jaw, his hips shifting forward slightly. The small action heightened Harry's desire further and he sucked in a sharp breath, biting back a moan as he felt the boy's hardening length push against his thigh.
"S-Severus... ahhh... um... Arithmancy?"
For a second, Severus froze and then –
"Shit!" he cursed, springing up from Harry like a shot. "Right. Arithmancy... right."
Harry let the goofy smile stay on his face as he watched a flustered Severus try to gain his bearings, hopping around as he attempted to pull on a pair of black trousers. He threw on his uniform shirt, buttoning only a few of the buttons with hasty, impatient motions, while doddering clumsily with the task of stepping into his shoes. After grabbing his robe and schoolbag that were hanging over one of the kitchen chairs, he hastened back to Harry, breath quickened and features strained with stress.
"There's food in the refrigerator. I skipped dinner yesterday, so I opted to nick some leftovers from the kitchens after Astronomy class... baked chicken and mashed potatoes. There are a couple of ginger biscuits, too," he told Harry as he sat beside him on the bed again.
"Severus, I can go to Arithmancy. Honestly, I'm OK," Harry insisted, shifting his position so as to swing his legs over the side of the bed.
Again, his efforts were halted.
"No. Sleep. Eat. I'll be back after Ancient Runes – probably around three o'clock." Severus concluded his words with a quick kiss to Harry's lips that were still parted in mid-protest, before ascending from the bed and making his way toward the door.
When he reached the doorway however, he paused, his gaze cast down and his brow creased with worry and reflection.
The abrupt change in demeanor caught Harry off-guard and he stilled, watching with narrowed eyes as Severus seemed to mull some deep concern over and over in his mind, before finally giving his contemplation voice.
"You'll... always come back to me?" he whispered, his voice quavering and hesitant as he repeated Harry's words from earlier, his eyes still fixed on the floor. "That makes it sound as though... as though you expect to leave me again."
Harry's heart immediately leapt to his throat, his pulse racing as a wave of cold dread plunged into his stomach.
"Sev..." he managed to utter, the truncated name falling from his trembling lips in a rush of panicked breath.
Severus' head shot up, his dark eyes taking in Harry's anguished expression for only a second before he spoke again, shaking his head with insistence.
"No. No... don't..." he demanded, his eyes squeezed shut now, lower lip quivering. "Don't say anything."
Harry obeyed the command, his heart breaking.
Silence filled the cottage, heavy and oppressive, the seconds ticking away in what felt like several long, torturous minutes. At last, those obsidian eyes, now glistening with unshed tears, reemerged from under their lids.
"Will you be here when I get back at three?" Severus whispered, his breath hitching as he spoke, his eyes returning to stare at the hardwood floor.
"Yes," Harry answered, his voice shaking as well.
With a small nod, Severus turned and left, the muffled click of the closed door reverberating throughout the small cottage like an audible verdict, a fractured finality.
Harry fell back onto the bed, his eyes falling closed the moment his head touched the pillow. They burned and prickled behind their closed lids as if longing to release yet another flow of anguished tears, but not a single drop fell. Perhaps he simply had no more tears left to shed, or perhaps his eyes had become immune to the near constant heartache he had endured over the last few weeks – immune enough to uphold a facade of impassivity instead of an outward display of grief in the face of this latest devastating disclosure.
His heart however, was not immune; the pain of regret felt like a gaping hole in his chest, deep and abiding, his soul in agony.
Despite the gnawing ache, his weakened body and burdened mind soon relinquished control, exhaustion prevailing over hollow despair. Just before slipping back into sleep's illusive tranquility, one final thought, refusing to be quelled, echoed throughout his mind like an unwelcome mantra, its devastating truth gouging further into the open wound that was once his heart.
He knows. He knows I'm leaving him.
o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -
A loud, feral cry tore Harry from his deep sleep. His body, acting on impulse, shot straight up, eyes wide and darting around the room in confusion. Startled to the point of panic, he slammed his hand down on the bedside table, fingers groping clumsily for his wand before his groggy brain registered that it was still in his schoolbag several feet away. He abandoned his fumbling search and instead, brought both hands to his face, pressing his fingertips to his closed eyelids in an effort to bring some clarity to his muddled thoughts, when the cry sounded once more.
Bleary, grey eyes snapped open again, Harry's hands falling to his sides as the source of the grating noise finally came into focus.
In the very center of the room, atop one of the waist-high perches beside the stone hearth, sat Solus. Her keen, pitch-black eyes were boring into Harry's with an unnerving intensity, her head lowered in an overt display of wary vigilance.
Time seemed to slow as they held each other's gaze, the seconds stretching into long minutes of uncomfortable silence. At length, the lustrous bird lifted her head a small amount, her sharp focus never wavering from her target as she opened her large, curved beak and issued a third ear-splitting caw.
The deafening sound seemed to rouse Harry from his stupor. He leapt from the bed and clambered to his feet, stumbling as he fought against the sheets entwined around his legs. Kicking them off in agitation, he looked back up to see Solus still eyeing him intently. As if entranced by her penetrative scrutiny, he moved forward, edging toward the middle of the room and closer to the majestic bird.
Only when Harry was mere inches from her did she finally avert her potent gaze, steely black eyes glancing downward and head lowering. The trusting gesture was followed by a faint trill issued from her throat, its tone soft and dulcet, very unlike her normal jarring screech.
That soft, lulling hum reminded Harry of Fawkes' soulful chirr and before he could put any real thought into his actions, he raised his hand and placed his fingers atop her bowed head, the compulsion to touch her too great to ignore. With tentative motions, he caressed her onyx plumage, his fingers ghosting over the warm, silky feathers again and again, each gentle touch somehow easing the tight knot in his stomach and soothing his ever-present heartache.
Solus stayed motionless during Harry's ministrations, her tenebrous eyes falling shut in what appeared to be a show of contentment. After a while however, she shifted under Harry's touch, her dark eyes snapping open and her body stiffening. She extended her enormous wings in one swift, abrupt motion, her chest puffing out menacingly as she fixed her gaze on Harry with what could only be described as a fierce, penetrating glower.
"Whoa...!"
The sudden reversal in demeanor made Harry jerk his hand away and take a few steps backward, his pulse speeding up as an inexorable fear washed over him. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his rising apprehension. He took another tentative, fumbling step away from the bird, his mind racing, wondering what the hell he could have done to anger her. Before he could put any more thought into the matter, she was gone, her huge wings thrusting downward, propelling her up and then out through the open bay window.
Panic gripped Harry in that moment, the terrifying notion that perhaps he had just managed to inspire Solus' ill-fated departure sending a ripple of fear to surge through him. He ran to the window, getting there just in time to see a streak of black soar over the garden and then dive through the partially open roof of the barn-like structure beside the cottage.
It took Harry several minutes of meticulous surveillance before he became convinced that she was indeed intending to stay there – that she was not going to fly off, never to return, as was her species' divined predestination. When a fourth loud, agitated-sounding caw issued from inside her hideout, he felt the last of his anxiety dissolve.
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, he turned away from the window, his thoughts still on the bird's temperamental about-face. His contemplation was pushed to the back of his mind however, when a low growl issued from his clenching stomach, prompting Harry to wonder just how late he had slept this time.
Spotting his bag lying on the floor near the foot of the bed, he went over to kneel beside it. He reached his hand into one of its inside pockets, his fingers fumbling for a moment before resurfacing with his watch.
"One o'clock. Two more hours until Severus comes back," he mumbled aloud, cringing when his stomach gave another loud rumble as if protesting its overlong neglect. Sighing, he realized that he really should try to eat something. After all, it had been more than twenty-four hours since last he ate.
Harry padded over to the kitchen and wrenched open the refrigerator door, pulling out a plate containing two chicken drumsticks and a heaping pile of mashed potatoes. Not even bothering to return to his bag for his wand in order to cast a warming charm on the stone-cold food, he devoured it like a starving man.
Despite his zealous speed, there was little enjoyment to be had in the consumption of this long delayed meal. Each bite tasted like nothing, bland and wrong on his tongue, his stomach twisting in protest with each mouthful. He ignored the discomfort, knowing that the food's lackluster flavor and the slight queasiness he experienced with each strained swallow was just a consequence of his stress.
Forcing himself to continue, he chewed bite after bite of the seemingly tasteless food, his jaw working without voluntary thought while his mind drifted back to Severus. His stomach gave another painful lurch, this time having nothing to do with his meal as his meandering thoughts settled on one particularly painful memory – Severus' quavering voice while pleading with Harry to say no more about his own precarious mortality. The heartbreaking remembrance prompted Harry's queasiness to escalate to full-on nausea and he clamped his eyes shut, breathing deeply, hoping to ease the wave of wretched illness sweeping through him. That sickening feeling only worsened when he recalled the absolute pain reflected in those black orbs when Severus became aware that Harry's time here would soon come to an end.
Harry released a tortured sigh and dropped his half-eaten piece of chicken back onto the plate, his hands coming up to cover his face. This was not at all how he had intended for things to pan out. Though he knew he must disclose the truth of his impending departure to Severus and very soon, he had hoped to reveal it with more compassion, or at least with a modicum of tact. And he had never wanted to burden Severus with the knowledge of the uncertain nature of his own ambiguous survival.
But now that he thought about it...
Was it possible that Severus was meant to know this one horrible truth?
Harry's eyes snapped open, his hands coming away from his face to fall limply at his sides while his mind raced at a dizzying speed, his disarranged thoughts whirling around his brain like a tempestuous gale. After the muddled mix of memories and fears settled back into place, a single memory, refusing to be swept aside, lingered, one that had been forcibly implanted inside his mind almost a month ago. As it replayed itself with vivid clarity, the anguished words uttered by a distraught and hysterical Gray Skye felt like a knife to Harry's chest – their underlying truth inspiring profound illumination, as well as total devastation.
...Promise me, Severus… promise me… promise me you'll live...
As those desperate, gut-wrenching pleas faded back into the deepest recesses of his troubled mind, words he himself was destined to speak in just over three days' time, Harry was forced to acknowledge the harsh, ugly truth of the matter...
He will be leaving this time without ever knowing of Severus' fate.
His own parting words and desperate demeanor in that memory alluded to his ignorance. This was never a rescue mission, at least not in the traditional sense. The purpose of this journey through time was always intended to be a completion to the cycle of events, a self-fulfilling prophesy of time.
While he had hoped his presence here would somehow foster a timeless miracle, create a chain reaction that would lead to Severus' survival twenty years from now, there simply was no guarantee. Regardless of whether Fawkes held the key to Severus' survival or whether it resided within some yet undiscovered verity, the cold, hard truth of it was that Harry was always destined to leave this time having absolutely no clue if the love of his life would be alive or dead upon his return.
"Dumbledore's right," he whispered, his fingers shaking as they ran though his hair, grasping at the strands in despair and frustration. "There's nothing I can do. I'm nothing more than a insignificant pebble drowning in the depths of a boundless pool of water… I'm just a goddamn thread woven into the complex fabric of time. I'm not saving him... I... I'm failing him..."
Out of nowhere, a sharp spike of white hot anger tore through him, usurping the despair looming within his heart. Before he could quell the outpouring of fury, he was on his feet, his hand snatching up his plate and hurling it across the room. It shattered upon impact with the stone hearth, splintering the stilled silence with its resounding crash as a thousand slivers of porcelain rained down onto the wooden floorboards along with the remnants of his lunch.
"FUCK!" he screamed, his savage cry adding to the clinking fragments of china redistributing on the floor, the combined sounds echoing off the stone walls with an eerie resonance. He watched the white shards scatter, followed their random movements as they disseminated away from the hearth with erratic movements. After a moment, he looked away from the mess, his head lowering and his shoulders sagging as the rage he had felt so intensely mere seconds ago drained from him, fury dissolving back into crushing hopelessness.
Shaking all over, his head now throbbing from his impulsive display of anger, he stumbled over to Severus' potion worktable hoping to find something for the pain. He yanked out the crate from beneath the table and began rifling through the multi-colored vials and potion bottles, many of them clattering to the floor as a result of his hasty search. His frenzied rummaging came to an end when he spotted what he had been looking for. Just as his fingers closed around the emerald green vial, his eyes fell upon another vial – its contents a very familiar, deep purple.
Harry seized it instead, wresting the stopper off with trembling fingers and then downing the Dreamless Sleep in one swift gulp. Almost immediately, he felt his limbs grow heavy and his cognizance dim. Straightening up from his crouched position on the floor, he half trudged, half staggered toward the bed, collapsing face down on top of it like dead weight.
The instant his head hit the pillow, he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, permitting the potion's sweeping effects to usher him into a state of blissful numbness, an illusory plane devoid of all emotion. He didn't want to feel right now... couldn't deal with one more second of this pain and anguish and guilt. Even the love entrenched within the depths of his heart felt like too much too bear at present.
...but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
The auspicious line from Trelawney's prophecy came to him seemingly out of nowhere, prompting a weak chuckle to fall from Harry's numbing lips, his hazy mind finding a twisted sort of amusement in its heartening message. How ironic that his ability to love was somehow powerful enough to bring about the demise of one of the most infamous Dark wizards of all time, yet it had done nothing but wreak havoc and wield devastating pain and loss upon the only person he had ever truly been in love with.
Sleep was impatient as it dragged him further into insentience, his mind clouding in a swirl of foggy, indistinct thoughts and worries, all of them jumbled up and twisting together. He let himself float on their tide of chaotic motion, his body light, his focus detached. Another easy breath in and then out, and he felt those thoughts slip away into nothing, all his pain and anger dissolving into the welcome abyss of unconsciousness.
o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o - o -
"It is essential that you remain completely still during these last few diagnostic spells, Mr. Skye. If you fidget, I will have no choice but to start all over again. Performing these nerve analysis spells can be tricky business."
"Yes, Ma'am. I understand."
Not wanting to irritate the strict matron, Harry did as he was told, lying stock-still on his back while Madam Pomfrey resumed her meticulous testing, her wand drawing large sweeping gesticulations above his immobile form. She had assured him that this was to be the final portion of the check-up, having already listened to his heart and lungs, examined his throat, ears and eyes and tested his reflexes. She also spent many long minutes running a diagnostic assessment that Harry was quite certain could be considered a crude form of torture, using her wand to cast several stinging hexes on different locations on his skin and then performing another spell to measure the magnitude of his nerves' response to each provocation. Though the stinging hexes were mild, his body's reactions were not, and he had a difficult time not crying out in pain. Thankfully, this current test was much less aggressive as her spells seemed to do nothing but relay pertinent information back to their caster.
"Well," she said, lowering her wand at last and releasing a deep, labored sigh, "though the major damage to your nerve receptors has healed since you awoke from your coma last week, there is still a good bit of cellular deterioration which has not healed. This is why you continue to experience hypersensitivity to physical stimuli."
"Cellular deterioration?" he asked, then swallowed hard, feeling anxious.
"Mr. Skye..." she began. Her expression, usually so stern and hard, had now softened, her brown eyes radiating an uncharacteristic sympathy. She inhaled a deep breath and held it for a stint of time that seemed to stretch into an eternity before releasing it and continuing.
"I would encourage you to seek a second opinion, of course, but in my professional opinion, this level of nerve damage... as severe and as widespread as it is... could very well prove irreversible by magical, as well as Muggle means."
"Oh," Harry breathed, his chest tightening and his mouth suddenly dry.
"It can be managed," she offered, "with potions for the pain and discomfort, along with muscle-relaxant elixirs and numbing agents. And I would also advise you, if you haven't already, to familiarize yourself with as many healing charms as you can. The sooner you can heal an unexpected physical impairment, the less severe the pain response you will have to endure. However, your best course of action is to simply avoid situations that may trigger these episodes of hypersensitivity..."
Harry swallowed past the lump lodged in his throat, trying to quell his shock and uncertainty upon hearing this latest bit of disturbing news.
As if I don't already have enough to deal with.
"...or are you Apparating directly there?... Mr. Skye...?"
"Huh? I'm sorry... what?" he replied, embarrassed when he realized that the mediwitch had continued to talk while Harry had tuned her out.
"I asked if you were planning to Apparate directly to your parents. The Headmaster has informed me that you are leaving Hogwarts tomorrow morning to return to your parents, but he neglected to apprise me of your mode of transport."
"Oh... I... yes," Harry stammered, only now remembering the fabrication Dumbledore had devised to explain away his upcoming departure. The Headmaster had sent him a letter about it yesterday during breakfast in the Great Hall. Harry was to tell anyone who inquired that he was leaving before the conclusion of the school year, foregoing graduation, because his parents needed him to return home due to a family emergency. "Um... yes, Ma'am. Apparating."
Madam Pomfrey furrowed her brow at that, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes narrowed.
"I'm not entirely sure your body will handle Apparation very well, Mr. Skye. Is there not another way? A Portkey, perhaps? I am certain if you were to ask the Headmaster, he would be able to–"
"No. No, it has to be Apparition. That's how they'll be expecting me," Harry explained. Although his statement was by no means the truth, it was the closest he could come to it. After all, he couldn't very well tell her he would be traveling twenty years into the future via a time regression spell.
However, he was now feeling a bit unnerved about the possible negative effects this journey could have on his fragile health.
"Very well. Wait here while I get you some potions. I'll supply you with a few days' worth of pain potion, as well as a numbing agent for topical use, only to be used if needed of course. I suppose since you insist on Apparating, I should include a strong anti-nausea, too..."
She turned from Harry and headed toward her office, still muttering about which potions would be best for Harry to take with him tomorrow.
Tomorrow. I'm leaving tomorrow.
Harry closed his eyes as the gravity of this devastating fact once again swept through him like physical pain, strangling his breath and ripping at his heart. In fewer than twelve hours, he would be gone from this time, taken away by the very spell which had deposited him here nearly a month ago. Away from all of it... Dumbledore, his parents, Sirius, the cottage and... Severus.
Gripping the sides of the mattress with clenching fingers, Harry drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to curb his rising panic and assuage the desperate, gnawing ache in his heart that had, if possible, intensified over the past few days. As if in defiance to his desire for more time, each one of those days had flown by at breakneck speed, the moments rushing past him in a whirlwind of acute emotions – a strange, jumbled mix of profound depression, manic rage and forced resignation.
To make matters worse, Severus had started to close himself off from Harry. Ever since their conversation early Tuesday morning when Harry had disclosed the truth about his own inevitable departure from this time, as well the uncertainty of Severus' future survival, something inside the boy had just... changed... shut down. It was as if the luminous hope and promise that had always shone so brightly through those ebony orbs had begun to dim and fade away.
Harry first noticed the change Tuesday evening, after waking from his comatose-like slumber induced by the Dreamless Sleep Potion. Struggling against the potion's lingering soporific effects, he forced his eyes open to find Severus standing over his cauldron in the far corner of the room, diligently testing his Retorquentis Potion.
Sitting up, Harry looked around, surprised to find the cottage spotless. Those porcelain fragments that had been strewn about the floor were gone and the crate of potion vials he had carelessly rummaged through was tucked back under the table, its contents returned to order. When Harry looked down at his injured arms, he found every last scratch had been cleaned and healed, the freshly mended flesh a pale, smooth pink indicative of new skin.
"I brought you dinner," Severus said, his voice an emotionless, monotone drone. "It's in the refrigerator."
He did not turn around or even lift his head as he spoke, his dark eyes trained resolutely on his steaming cauldron.
A wave of cold, biting dread surged through Harry as he crawled out of bed and made his way over to Severus, his heart hammering so hard, it felt as through it might leap from the confines of his ribcage at any moment. When he reached Severus, he wrapped his trembling arms around the boy from behind, holding him close while tears of regret welled in his eyes.
"Severus..." Harry choked out, but could say no more, his mind grinding to a halt as it searched for the right words to say.
"You should eat," Severus whispered, a stuttered hitch to his hushed voice. Though he never withdrew from Harry's embrace, he did not reciprocate, his long arms remaining motionless at his sides, fingers clenched into tight fists.
Harry knew then that something inside Severus had broken. A crack had formed somewhere deep within the bowered recesses of his already wounded soul... a splintering in the very foundation of his being... his very spirit... and Harry feared it was only the beginning.
The beginning of the end.
Determined to spend every moment he had left with the boy he loved, regardless of Severus' escalating emotional exodus, Harry sat every one of his remaining NEWT exams, never again leaving Severus' side.
Taking NEWT exams while under such duress was a novel experience. On the one hand, Harry's lack of care one way or the other regarding his performance meant he had a far easier time of it. After all, a stressful task did not seem so bad when the outcome meant nothing.
On the other hand, some exams had no problem bringing out the tension in Harry – Potions being one of them. While Wednesday morning's Care of Magical Creatures exam was a good example of a test which engendered almost no concern or anxiety from Harry whatsoever, the Advanced Potions practical later that day had him sweating profusely, his mind blank and his concentration addled. By the end of the practical, his Skele-Gro potion, which was supposed to be an opalescent pearl color, had turned a bright canary yellow and was giving off a pungent odor of rotten eggs.
The only upside to this obvious failure was the smirk of amusement he received from Severus later that night as they walked back to the cottage discussing the day's exams. Feeling emboldened by the familiar snarky expression and the glimmer of hope that perhaps there was a return to normalcy between them, Harry attempted to broach the subject of his scheduled departure, but that effort, along with the few that followed it over the next couple of days, was met with obstinate resistance. Every attempt engendered the same outcome; Severus would insist that Harry speak nothing of it, his voice tremulous and cracking, just as it had been the very first time they had discussed it. Then he would withdraw from Harry, physically as well as emotionally, usually secluding himself to his potion worktable to put the finishing touches on his Retorquentis Potion.
Thursday was not much different than Wednesday – two new exams, but the same encompassing air of oppressive tension. Both the Herbology and Charms NEWTs that day were difficult, but the stress inspired by them could not begin to compare to the torrential storm of panic brewing inside Harry.
After two days of Severus refusing to discuss the huge elephant in the room, Harry's despair and anguish had grown to unbearable levels. He would have lost his mind completely, breaking down into a hollow shell of feigned vitality, if not for their nights together. The emotional aloofness and stubborn denial Severus displayed during the daylight hours would melt away each night when he would abandon his near obsessive work on his Mastery Potions project and crawl into bed. Amid the shroud of gloaming darkness, Severus would slip under the covers and wrap his arms around Harry, drawing him close. The embrace was possessive and desperate, his grip impossibly tight as if he were terrified that to loosen his hold might mean Harry would disappear forever.
Although there was never an initiation by either one of them to progress that hungry embrace to more sensual endeavors, Harry had never before felt such a profound connection with Severus than during those times, the boy's fragile wall of protective pretense dissolving into a raw need to be close and feel complete. Neither spoke during those shared moments of quiet intimacy, the darkness and heavy stillness in the room surrounding them like the relentless fear of loss blazing within both of their hearts, but Harry could feel Severus' love with each rapid beat of his heart, strong and enduring, an inferno of passion and pain that could both heal and destroy...
It was as if his love for Harry alone, precarious and volatile though it was, was the only force holding his tenuous world together.
And now it was Friday evening, the ending of Harry's last full day in this time, and so far the day had passed by in a mindless blur of irritating and extraneous events, unimportant and wholly forgettable. He was aware that he had attended his final NEWT exam, Transfiguration, both the written portion and its correlating practical, but he honestly could not remember a single detail that would suffice for an adequate retell of the occurrence, his mind a veritable vortex of fear and painful reflection. He recalled being asked to transfigure a textbook into a tortoise and then back again, but he could not say with any real degree of certainty whether or not he had managed it.
He and Severus ate dinner in the Great Hall after that. Chicken pot pie, or maybe it was turkey cutlets, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered. Harry didn't eat more than three or four bites of the stuff, each one tasting more like ash in his mouth rather than the typical appetizing Hogwarts fare.
Severus, he noticed, only ate a few bites more than he did.
And now this – his check-up with Madam Pomfrey.
Harry would be lying if he were to say he was unfazed by her prognosis, but Christ!... in comparison with his other concerns, it was a non issue, a trivial inconvenience at worst. So what if he had to deal with an excess of sensitivity and physical pain for the rest of his life? Harry doubted it could ever rival the tortured ache of deep despair residing within his heart.
"Here we are."
Madam Pomfrey returned from her office, holding a small tote bag in one hand while stuffing various potion vials into its depths with the other. "This should be an adequate supply for the next few days. I advise you to see your family healer once you arrive home, however. He or she will need to become familiar with your condition as well as replenish your store of pain potions."
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry answered in a lifeless tone. "Thank you."
He hopped off the hospital bed, grabbed the tote bag filled with his potions and then exited the infirmary, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with his impaired health.
Tonight would be his last night with Severus, something he hadn't told him, at Severus' own insistence. Now, however, there could be no more reticence, no more conceded silence; time was impatient, its remaining moments degenerating into the cruel, regretful past like sand succumbing to gravity's influence as it slides through the neck of an hourglass.
He had simply run out of time. He had to tell Severus tonight or he never would.
As he pushed open the castle's heavy front doors and stepped out onto Hogwarts' lush grounds, he allowed himself only a moment to glance around, taking in the celebratory exploits from the surrounding students. They were everywhere – taking advantage of their new found freedom and slowly setting sun, several of them lazing under a group of birch trees near Hagrid's hut, more sitting by the edge of the Black Lake, dipping their feet into the cool water, even a few younger ones chasing each other across the verdurous lawn in a spirited game of tag – all of them laughing, smiling, free of burdens and stress, grateful for the end of yet another school year.
Harry ignored their exuberance, their carefree frolicking looking alien to him amid his own fierce apprehension. He walked past them briskly, peering down at his watch to check the time.
Seven o'clock. Severus should be back at the cottage by now.
They had gone their separate ways following dinner, Harry to his appointment with Madam Pomfrey and Severus to his scheduled meeting with Professor Slughorn to present his Retorquentis Potion for his Mastery Potions NEWT. Harry had considered skipping out on his appointment in favor of attending Severus' presentation, but decided against it. Severus had worked so hard and so long on this project that Harry didn't feel right sharing in the accolades, especially since he had done practically nothing to assist him. Severus alone deserved recognition for his invention's viability. He deserved this one final moment of happiness before the inevitable tidal wave of despair that was to come, washed it all away.
Quickening his pace, Harry made his way through the wild tree limbs and thick brush amid the now darkening forest, his dread intensifying. By the time he came to the magicked entrance to the cottage grounds, his heart was thundering in his chest, his breathing tight and harsh. The fear of telling the boy he loved that their remaining time together consisted of only a few meager hours was suffocating. Each labored breath drawn into his lungs felt like a razor-sharp cut, every beat of his heart like a knockout punch.
Harry forced his legs to continue their autonomous forward motion as he trudged closer to the cottage's gothic arched doorway. Seeing that the door was ajar, he pushed it open, his eyes scanning the room for Severus but finding it empty. He turned back around, deciding to search the perimeter of the pond and the garden next, when something caught his eye – something that made his racing heart leap into his throat.
There, in the middle of the table lay his schoolbag, which he had dropped off at the cottage just before dinner, not wanting to be burdened with it during his appointment with Madam Pomfrey. When he had left it here this afternoon, however, it was zipped up and stowed beside the bed. Now it was open on top of this table, his textbooks, quills and parchment strewn all over its surface.
Harry approached his disarranged possessions, his anxiety escalating. He seized his bag and peered inside, a moment of relief washing over him when he saw his invisibility cloak and the Elder wand undisturbed at the very bottom. But the fleeting moment of relief perished when his eyes fell upon the book lying open in the very center of the table, a flash of bright red writing scribbled in the margin of its exposed page grabbing his attention.
"Oh no... Shit!"
Trembling fingers reached for the book, snatching it up, the abrupt action almost upsetting an open bottle of red ink beside the book and jostling an abandoned quill whose tip was still dripping crimson liquid onto the wooden tabletop.
Harry stared down at the open page, his whole body shaking now as his eyes scanned the freshly inked circle drawn around the familiar words in vivid red...
Time Regression Spell
Latin Incantation (vrbl.) - Tempus Procedere
...and the familiar notation handwritten along the margin in Severus' cramped, neat scrawl...
lunar cycle, one month.
"He knows... Oh God, he knows I'm leaving tomorrow..."
Harry spun around and raced from the cottage, his fingers still gripping Secrets of the Darkest Art as he frantically searched the darkening grounds for Severus. He found him almost immediately, a lone dark figure sitting on the end of the dock, body hunched over and head bowed low, his bare feet dangling over the edge, toes skimming the water's surface.
On shaky legs, Harry drew nearer, now at a slower pace, his stomach clenching and his heart aching. His footfalls, which had been all but silent when he traversed the overgrown grassy expanse, now caused the aged wooden boards of the dock to creak and groan.
The wearying sounds prompted Severus to lift his head a few inches, but he did not turn around. Even when Harry drew level with him, easing his trembling body down to sit beside him, that dark gaze remained fixed upon the deep indigo water flickering with the glistering reflections of the setting sun.
"Severus..."
"It's tomorrow... isn't it?" Severus whispered.
"Y-y-yes..." Harry choked out, his eyes prickling with the threat of fresh tears. He took a deep breath and stifled the cry that threatened to escape his quivering lips, forcing himself to stay strong.
Severus reached a hand over to Harry, still without looking at him, long fingers closing around the binding of the book in Harry's hand and pulling it toward him. He did not open it, but held it tight to his chest.
"I'm sorry I went through your things," Severus breathed, a hoarse tremor to his voice. "I was looking for answers... looking for... for when. I needed to know when..."
"Severus, I wanted to tell you. I swear... and I tried to... but... but you never wanted me to say anything about it and I–"
"I know," Severus interjected. "I know, Gray."
Silence stretched between them in long, desperate moments, a mounting tension permeating each passing second, each breath, each heartbeat. At length, Severus spoke again, his voice dropping to a mere breath of whispered words, anguish edging every timorous susurration.
"I knew it was going to happen soon, even before I opened your bag and found this book. I... I knew you were leaving me... tonight... or tomorrow..."
He turned his head and looked at Harry, locking eyes with him for the first time since Harry sat down. Those tearful, dark orbs shone with a desperate raw pain, deep and endless like the unwavering passing of time itself. Through a haze of welling tears, they gazed at Harry as though pleading for him to understand some profound occurrence, to grasp some significant yet devastating truth unknown.
"Severus...?" Harry questioned, the sharp ache in his heart intensifying as a crushing fear took hold of him.
"She left me," Severus whispered.
"Wh-what? Who... who left you?"
"Solus."
Chapter End - TBC
A/N: Yay! Another early posting. And... whew!... what an emotional roller coaster of a chapter it was to write! I think this one tops the angst chart.
Special thanks to YenGirl for beta-ing this chapter. As always Yen, your help is so appreciated, especially considering how busy you are! :)
Just a heads-up... I will be on vacation from June 14th until June 22nd and have already promised myself (and my daughter) that I will not be writing for the duration. As you might imagine, that does affect my proposed deadline for chapter 16. So, with that in mind, I am going to set my new deadline for July 31st. If I must extend that date, I will communicate that via my Bio page, but hopefully I will be able to meet that deadline.
Only three chapters remaining until the conclusion of this story, folks. I do hope you'll stick around until the very end. At the very least, you should stay for the next chapter as it will feature a very 'special' final night together for our two favorite characters. Snarry goodness abound! :P
Please Review.