This was written for Snarry AUctoberfest 2023. I had forgotten post it here after the reveal, sorry.
I want to thank danpuff for beta'ing and helping me make this story better, and everyone on the HoS discord server who supported and cheered me up in big and small ways.
There's swordfighting, blood, dragons, magic, tattoos, and a bit of human sacrifice (failed). And Hedwig as a horse.
Receive You
Severus sat on a log by the mountain road, settled his walking stick between his knees, and took a long, deep breath. The scent of incense and wild resurrection lilies lingered in the air. The mountainside was carpeted with the red flowers, their unfurled petals charming in the afternoon sunlight.
He tugged at the strap of his bag, pulling it away from where it had started to dig into his shoulder, and recast a featherlight charm on it. There wasn't much in the bag, just a spare set of robes, several potions, ingredients, books and brewing tools. Anything and everything could be stored inside, limited only by the size of the opening and the strength of its owner.
Down in the narrow valley below lay the town of Glenloris. Named for the lilies that bloomed in the mountain forests surrounding it, the town had two remarkable features. One was the large, carefully tended gardens that encircled the town in color and heavenly scent. Streamers and garlands hung from every post and over the main road, catching and fluttering in the northern winds. The petals of hundreds of flowers perfumed the air, barely masking the stench of funeral incense and ancient graveyards.
The southern road out of Glenloris gently wound down the mountains alongside a narrow river to grasslands several hundreds of kilometers away.
The northern road from Glenloris was a steep climb through the town's other claim to fame, the Necropolis. From the northern gate to the top of Mt. Crinon, hundreds of thousands of graves spotted the mountainside, their stone markers peeking out from behind the stargazers in the summer and the ice lilies in the winter. Winds cold enough to scrape the skin blew down from the top of the mountain all year long. One could almost taste ash as they breathed it in.
Leaving Glenloris by the northern road felt like one was crawling out of their own grave.
Attempting to enter Glenloris via the dangerously steep slope was no better. Most travelers with a bit of common sense and knowledge of the land would rather detour around the mountains and use the southern route, even if it added a day to their travel, than risk breaking their horses' legs or their necks. Only strangers and fools would use the faster, but much more treacherous, northern road.
"Easy, girl," a young man said, his voice coming from just beyond the bend in the road. "That's right."
Severus rose from the log, shifted his grip on the walking stick to his weaker hand, and rested his dominant hand on top of the pouch belted at his waist, his fingers within easy reach of his wand. There were bandits and other nefarious parties rumored to be camping just off the northern road, and Severus did not like being caught unawares.
A young, dark-haired man in shiny, freshly-made armor slowly appeared, his attention split between the steep road and the white, saddled mare he was coaxing down the path. His face was obscured by the thick glasses he wore and the bright-red scarf wrapped over his mouth and nose, but no one would mistake him for an experienced adventurer. He had the unstained tunic and unsteady stance of a novice on his first excursion into the world.
For a moment, Severus wondered what he would look like in the young adventurer's eyes, with his worn alchemist robes and long, dour face.
"There you go," the young man praised, patting the horse gently down her neck, as she took little, hesitant steps. "Just a little farther, I think."
The young man looked down towards the town, but there was little to see from this section of road except for trees and wildflowers.
He turned his head slightly and, spotting Severus, froze like a child caught sneaking about in the dark by his strict tutor. "Ah, I'm sorry," he said, relaxing his shoulders a bit. "I didn't notice you there."
"Obviously."
The young man pulled the scarf down, revealing a handsome face. His thin, upturned lips and warm green eyes gave him a friendly, approachable demeanor. "Do you know if this is the road to Glenloris?"
"I do."
The young man smiled. The horse snorted, restlessly. The smile twitched. "Is this the road, then?"
"It is."
The smile faltered, tried to regain some of its cheer, only to fall flat.
Severus sighed. He shouldn't be taking his irritations out on the stranger. "Just stay on the road, and you'll be there within the hour," he said, his hand never moving away from his wand. "That is, if you do not want your horse to break its legs on the way down."
"Ah, don't worry about that," the young man said. "Hedwig is too clever to let herself get hurt."
Severus did not care.
"Come along, girl," the young man said, guiding his horse step by step down the road.
Severus watched them inch past. Just when he thought he could relax, the young man jerked back towards him.
"Do you!" the young man shouted suddenly before taking a breath. "Do you live in Glenloris? Maybe we could share a drink at the inn later?"
Severus tightened his grip on his walking stick. "Word of advice," he said. "Get some dirt on that tunic before you go to town. Not unless you want everyone to know how green you are." He turned and, without a second glance, started the rest of his climb. He wanted to be in position before he ran out of daylight.
Only after a few steps did he hear the young man give his horse a quiet, "Come on, girl." His armor jangled as they walked away.
It was unknown which came first, the ancient temple or the Necropolis that flowed down the mountain from it. The dead of countless battles, known and unknown, rested underneath its shadow, covered only by flowers and the sky. As one drew closer to the peak, one could see the crumbling ruins of ancient cairns and grave markers, the names and epithets once carved into the stone sanded off by the winds and eaten away by lichen and time.
Branching off the northern road were the remains of a wide, cobbled road. It cut sharply through the forest, uncaring of the slope, and up to the ancient temple. Local stories say that the road was carved out by the dragon buried inside the mountain when he crashed into the earth, gouging out a path in the hard stone, before sliding to a stop where the temple entrance now stood.
On either side of this cobbled road were crypts, man-made caves dug into the very rock of the mountain. Some were only a room or two, long-looted and abandoned, but bandits had been known to hide among the ruins, seemingly unbothered by any corpses they might find.
The temple itself was a maze of catacombs that ran deep into the mountain, full of treasures and the restless dead that jealously attack the living seeking the dragon's tomb deep within the center. If the grave-robbers proved themselves worthy, they might even receive a blessing from the dragon itself, or so the stories say.
Only the most foolhardy or the most devious of men try their hand at grave-robbing at the Necropolis, and only children hang their hopes on receiving special powers from a long-dead lizard.
That was not to say that Blessings were not real. The Dark Lord himself had famously gained a Blessing from the Dreaming Healer, only to corrupt it by using its power in ways that ran contrary to the Healer's command over death and rebirth.
Severus had never seen the Blessing, only the effects of the Blessing's corruption on the Dark Lord's body and the false Blessing the Dark Lord himself had burned onto Severus's forearm.
He only knew that he had no need to seek one for himself. His own strength and skills were enough.
Severus crept along the slope parallel to the road, his body stooped and his footfalls silent as he moved into position. Peering down, he had a good view of the open crypts and what lurked inside. Night fell fast in the mountains; the light of a small fire shone out from one of the small rooms.
He lowered himself among the resurrection lilies, exhaling as he settled himself in for a long night of observation. The information he had been given had been too vague on the particulars. "Unwanted mischief in Glenloris" left too much up for conjecture, and after a week of investigation, his closest lead was "suspicious strangers hiding out in the catacombs of the Necropolis".
A man walked across the light. Someone must have noticed how dark it had become and quickly shuttered the light from view. Too late for that, Severus thought as he focused his eyes and ears on the darkened room.
"Brother," a man said, his voice deep and warm, "I'm still not sure this is a good idea."
"Of course it's a good idea," a second said, his voice rougher and higher. "Dragons ain't stupid. One look at you and it'll be smacking you straight on the lips."
"Do… they kiss you?" the first one said. "When they Bless you."
"I thought you had to kiss them," a third chimed in with a mumble.
"I meant smack as in punch," the second groaned. "It punches you, you knock it down, and it Blesses you! Bandits need to read the lore!" He punctuated his declaration with a smack.
"Yes, boss," the third said weakly. "Sorry."
"Brother," the first said, his voice dropping to a whisper. Severus strained to hear him. "Someone is coming."
Severus tensed, his fingers on the handle of his wand, and heard the jangle of untested armor and the clop of horseshoe on stone. In the twilight, the white horse shone like a beacon, and her rider was no better, his armor reflecting the fading light.
To his disbelief, it was the young man that Severus had crossed paths with mere hours ago. He silently cursed his misfortune.
A young, inexperienced adventurer ruining his plans was the last thing Severus needed, but distracting and drawing the young man away would mean giving away his position and a possible lead.
Before he could decide, however, the bandits were already slipping into position. They moved quickly, two of the men stepping onto the cobbled road to block the young man's path while the third sneaked up to higher ground, careful to stay in the shadows.
"Look 'at we got here, brother," the second one said, dark amusement pulling up the corners of his mouth. "A little boy playing knight after dark." Between the two brothers, the chatty one was thinner, with short-shorn hair and a wide, cruel smile. He drew a pair of daggers, their sharp, straight lines flashing in the gloom. "What are you doing out here after bedtime, little knight? Little boys like you shouldn't be playing in the crypts at this hour." He ran his tongue along the blunt side of his dagger, a wild look in his eyes.
The other brother rested his hand on the hilt of the broadsword strapped to his waist. The rough shirt he wore did little to hide his broad shoulders and chest, and his dark eyes and slicked-back hair gave him an imposing air. "You should turn around," he said, his deep voice rumbling with warning.
"I don't want any trouble," the young man said.
Daggers laughed. "Well, it looks like you found trouble, doesn't it," he said.
"Actually, I'm looking for," the young man pulled out a parchment from inside his breastplate, "a White Tusk Ridge? A guard back in town told me it's somewhere in this direction. Did I take a wrong turn back there?" He looked behind him at the road shrouded in darkness. "That must have been what happened. I'll just have to retrace my steps and—"
Daggers waved a hand. An arrow flew past the young man's ear and planted itself in a tree 50 yards away.
Severus drew his wand. Magic hummed softly just under his skin, eager to be let loose.
"You're not going anywhere," Broadsword said.
"At least, not without paying a fee," the other added.
The archer readied another arrow. The steel tip flashed in the darkness.
"You prancing up here interrupted our beauty sleep, after all," Daggers said.
"From what I can see, you definitely need it," the young man said.
Daggers jerked back before letting out a high-pitched laugh. A vicious grin full of teeth split across his face. "Oh, you're a mouthy brat, aren't ya. Let's see how your mouth does against steel!"
The arrow tip trembled, ready to be shot through the young man's chest. Severus took aim and sent a blast of charged magic at the archer, throwing the man off his feet. The arrow went wide, harmlessly landing some feet away.
"Don't harm the horse!" Broadsword warned. He swung at the young man with the flat of his sword, aiming to knock him off his mount before going to a more direct attack.
The young man barely got his own sword out of its sheath to block the swing, but Broadsword's strength was too much. The adventurer fell to the side, his foot still tangled on the stirrups. He struggled to bring his sword up to block the second swing.
Severus flicked a concussive spell at Broadsword. It hit him on the side of his head with a nasty crunch that echoed up the cobbled road. The man fell hard on his side, the broadsword slipping out of his hands to the ground.
"Kay!" Daggers cried out. He brought his daggers up defensively and scanned the woods, searching for Severus in the dark. "Show yourself, wizard!"
The young man managed to untangle himself and he fell gracelessly to his knees. As soon as the horse was freed of her rider, she bucked and stomped her hooves on Broadsword, nearly catching her owner in her rage. The adventurer fumbled to his feet and swung at Daggers.
The bandit stopped the adventurer's sword mid-strike with his blades. "Looking to get your first taste of blood, little knight?" Daggers taunted, pushing the young man back. He sliced at the adventurer's midsection with his left and twisted under the young man's block to stab with his right.
The adventurer stepped back from the attack with some grace, the untested sort that came from the mastery of bloodless drills.
The archer wobbled to his feet and steadied himself for another shot. Severus quickly sent a blast of fire at the archer before he could let another arrow fly.
The archer screamed as the magical flames knocked the bow out of his hands and burned his fingers. The horse, sensing a new enemy, galloped straight for the archer like a moth attracted to flames.
The young man was doing well, countering and parrying Daggers's quick attacks with more experience than his untested steel implied, but the archer's scream startled him, leaving him wide open for a split second.
A split second was all the bandit needed.
Daggers's grin flashed as the blade in his right hand slipped in between the gaps in the armor and buried itself deep into the young man's side. Shocked by the stabbing, the young man stared at the bandit's face, leaving him open to a second attack.
Severus stabbed the air with his wand, sending an ice spike at Daggers. It hit the back of the bandit's left hand, knocking the blade away.
Daggers growled and yanked his other blade out of the adventurer as he spun around to face Severus.
The young man crumpled weakly to the ground.
With a snarl, Daggers shot himself blade-first at Severus's throat. Severus flicked fire spells at the bandit's face, but Daggers dodged each shot, his grin growing wider with each failed spell.
"Is that all ya got, wizard?" Daggers sneered. He stabbed and swung at Severus, his blade a bright red line in the dark as Severus bobbed and weaved away from its bloodied edge.
"If you wished for more," Severus said. His free hand slipped into his bag. "You need only ask."
He pulled out a small phial full of a clear fluid. With a flick of his thumb, the cork stopper popped off and he flung the contents into Daggers's face. The bandit screamed as the stinging potion bubbled in his eyes. He clawed at his face and dropped to the ground, incapacitated.
Severus rushed down to the young adventurer. The young man stared blearily at Severus as he stripped him of his armor to more closely examine the wound. The young man's blood was black on the cobblestones.
"You're the man from before," the young man said. The entry wound was clean but for a strange residue the dagger had left on the skin.
"I thought you were going into town," Severus said. He fished out a healing potion out of his bag and poured it directly onto the wound. The sweet-smelling potion flowed over the skin, mixing with the blood and soaking the young man's clothes. The wound, however, did not close.
"There's a bounty," the young man said.
"So you decided to go collect it in the middle of the night?" Severus opened a jar of bitter jellies and scooped out some of the slimy curative with his fingers. He smeared it on and around the stab wound, hoping that it would counteract the poison clearly interfering with his work.
The young man softly whimpered as Severus stuck his jelly-covered fingers into the wound. "Maybe I should have waited?" he said.
"Maybe you should have stayed home!" Severus snapped. He shoved a blood-replenishing potion under the young man's nose. "Drink."
A drop of potion dribbled out of the corner of the young man's mouth, but he drank it down dutifully.
"Tastes gross… like copper…"
"Better than bleeding out," Severus said. The jelly seemed to have neutralized some of the poison, but the strange residue still remained. Blood continued to flow out of the adventurer's side like water. "What's your name, boy?"
"I'm not a boy," the adventurer immediately protested. He hissed as Severus poured another potion on the wound. "Harry."
"Listen, Harry," Severus said, wiping the skin around the wound. "I'm going to run out of potions with the way you're bleeding. We need to go back to town." He turned his head to where Daggers fell, intent on stripping him of his clothes to use them as bandages, but the bandit was gone, leaving his daggers behind.
He glanced at Broadsword, but he was too far away. Severus only had two hands, and both were occupied with keeping Harry from bleeding to death.
He pulled his spare shirt out of his bag and tore it into wide strips. "Can you call back your horse?"
"Ah, yeah," Harry said weakly and let out a whistle that was more spit than air. With a whinny, the horse appeared above the crypts, not far from where the archer had hidden himself. Even from a distance, Severus could see the blood coating the horse's muzzle and forelegs.
Severus wrapped the makeshift bandages around Harry's middle. The young man's skin was cold; the adrenaline from the fight had run its course and shock was setting in. He fed Harry a curative. "If you die on the way back to Glenloris, I'll feed you to your horse."
"Hedwig doesn't eat people," Harry protested. He grew slack. Severus rushed to tie the bandages tight.
He hauled Harry to his feet. The young man's head slumped to the side; it was only a matter of time before he lost consciousness. The horse trotted up close beside them, her head shaking once before she pushed her side against Harry.
Severus nudged Harry. "Get on."
Harry managed to get his foot into the stirrup before the last of his strength failed him. He slumped against his incredibly patient horse as Severus shoved Harry's other leg over the beast. "Don't move," he said to Harry.
The adventurer ignored his command and draped himself over his horse's neck.
Severus scooped up the daggers the bandit had left behind, careful to wrap them in the remains of his now-destroyed spare shirt before stowing them away in his bag. Harry's sword, dropped when the young adventurer was stabbed, shone in the darkness. He grabbed it by its ruby-encrusted hilt. "Can your beast handle two riders?" he said to Harry as he sheathed the ostentatious sword into its cowhide scabbard.
Harry blinked once at Severus before closing his eyes completely.
Severus cursed under his breath. He climbed on the horse behind Harry and pulled the young adventurer up to rest against his chest. The horse stamped her hooves in irritation at the unwanted rider.
"If you throw us off, it'll be your fault he dies," Severus said as he tilted Harry's head back to get a better look at his face. He splayed one hand over Harry's chest and felt the steady beat of the young man's heart. The stab wound was still bleeding, but so long as he made it back to town in time, he should be all right.
He wrapped his cloak around them both, sheltering Harry from the cold winds. He grabbed hold of the reins and kicked the horse's flanks.
They galloped down the cobbled road and into the night.
Whether from a spoonful of good luck after a bucket-full of bad, or from the beast's own preternatural skills as a mount, they flew down the steep northern route at breakneck speeds without breaking their necks along the way.
The horse finally slowed at the town gates, her sides lathered with sweat and her chest trembling.
"Stop right there," a guard shouted, holding a lantern out in one hand and his polearm stiffly upright in the other. "Where do you think you're going at this time of night?" He raised his lantern high enough to get a good look at Severus. "Alchemist?" he said before his gaze fell on Harry's pale face. "What happened!?"
"Bandits attacked us near White Tusk Ridge," Severus said. The horse stomped restlessly under him. "We only just managed to escape with our lives."
Another guard emerged from the shadows, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "The kid!" the other guard said. "Is he—"
"Alive," Severus said. "But the attack was too much for his nerves."
The guards' gazes lingered on Harry's face. "I told him he shouldn't have gone out at this hour," the one with the lantern said.
"Good thing you were out there, alchemist," the other said.
Severus only nodded before snapping the reins to spur the horse into motion.
In the dead of night, Glenloris was a ghost town. The banners, colorful and gay in the sunlight, were, at night, grey shrouds snapping in the cold winds. The houses were shuttered tight; snippets of whispered words and thin strips of firelight snuck through the wooden slots. The only welcoming lights shone from the windows of the town's biggest inn, the Black Calla. He steered the horse as close to the inn's steps as possible before dismounting.
A servant woman stepped out from the side of the inn and grabbed the horse's reins to steady the beast while Severus pulled Harry down. "Good evening, alchemist," the woman said, her round face dusted with freckles and her brown hair in a straw-covered plait that reached the small of her back.
"Evening, Seaton," Severus said. Harry stumbled into his arms. He grunted under the young man's full weight and took a moment to settle before casting a featherlight charm on Harry. "Mind taking care of the horse?"
"'Course not, sir," Seaton said, smiling as she caught the coin Severus tossed her way.
The innkeeper, Turner, was not nearly as solicitous. "Didn't I tell you to bugger off?" he said as Severus stormed up to the counter, Harry slumped in his arms like a babe or a fainted bride. The innkeeper gasped. "Is that a dead body?"
The only other person in the main room looked up from his mug for a moment before looking away, unconcerned with anything but his ale.
"A room," Severus said, careful not to jostle Harry as he slapped some coins on the counter. "Please."
The innkeeper bristled. "And I told you you're no longer welcomed here."
"I hardly did anything."
"You filled the whole inn with noxious smoke! It took us all day to get rid of the smell."
Harry stirred, turned his head, and rested his forehead against Severus's chest. The innkeeper frowned as he took notice of Harry's condition. There was no hiding the pallor of Harry's face or the dark seeping stain on the bandages.
"The room is for him," Severus said.
The innkeeper scowled before letting out a sigh. "Fine," he said, taking out a set of keys from under the bar. "But I want you out in the morning, you hear?"
"Fine," Severus said.
The innkeeper led Severus up rickety stairs to a room on the third floor that might have been a cupboard in a previous life. There was a table with an empty pitcher and basin and a chair pushed against the wall, but the narrow bed took up much of the space, and Harry took up most of the bed.
Severus ignored the innkeeper dawdling by the door and dragged the chair closer to the bed. He took out the knife he usually used for potion-making and carefully cut off the makeshift bandages.
The innkeeper hissed as Severus pulled the bandages away, exposing the still-seeping wound to the air. "I'll… I'll bring up some water," he said before disappearing down the hall.
The wound looked worse in the light. As Severus gently wiped away some of the blood, he felt some relief to find the bitter jellies neutralized the poison that kept the wound from closing. He quickly dumped the contents of his pouch onto the floor, keeping the wrapped daggers as far out of the way as possible before searching through his remaining supplies for curatives and blood replenishers.
The innkeeper returned with a bucket of cold water and some clean cloths. He set the bucket down by Severus's feet. "What happened to him?" he ventured to ask.
"Bandits," Severus said. He warmed the water with a charm, testing it with a finger before dipping one of the cloths into it. "One of them coated his blade with poison." He wrung the cloth out and cleaned Harry's side. "One that wasn't letting my healing potions do their job and the usual remedy couldn't counteract."
"What kind of poison does that?"
"One I've never encountered before," Severus said. A slight smile formed on his lips. A little thrill ran through him at the thought of taking apart this little mystery.
"You know," the innkeeper said, watching as Severus worked. "The herbalist, Whitby, told me the other day about a couple of adventurers who fought her over some potions they bought from her, demanding refunds because they weren't healing them like she said they would."
Severus paused. "I did not know," he said. "When was this?"
"A few weeks ago? She wasn't specific," the innkeeper said. "Don't know what happened to them after, either. The guards ran them out of town for wrecking her shop."
Severus uncorked a bottle of blood replenisher and lifted Harry's head off the bed high enough for Severus to pour the potion down his throat. "I plan to visit her shop myself tomorrow."
"Maybe she can help you?"
"Maybe."
It was early in the morning, just as the sky began to lighten, when the young adventurer started to stir. Severus was in the middle of using the remaining clean water to wash the last of Harry's blood off his hands. He hastily wiped himself dry with a cloth and rolled down his sleeves as Harry groaned and shifted to wakefulness.
"You shouldn't move so much," he said softly, startling the young man. "I only just managed to heal you."
Harry squinted at Severus. He looked even younger without his glasses. "Where am I?"
"An inn in Glenloris. Your horse is in the inn's stables." Severus patted his hands with the cloth one more time before draping it over the lid of the water bucket.
Harry licked his lips. "An inn in town…" A lazy smile formed on his face. "Are we going to have that drink together after all?"
"Your belongings are by the door," Severus said, ignoring Harry's question. "Except for your armor. I might have forgotten it in my haste to bring you here."
"My armor," Harry echoed. Worry flashed across his face. "And my sword?" he asked with more emotion than a simple blade would warrant.
"Here," Severus said, lifting the sheathed silver sword from where he had rested it by the table. The ruby in the pommel glowed in the candlelight.
Silence enveloped the room. The candle-flame crackled and sparked as it burned through the last of its wick.
"Thank you," Harry said softly.
"Rest," Severus said, putting the sword back down. "Dawn is still a few hours away. Potions can perform miracles, but it's no substitute for sleep." He pulled out his journal and a pencil from his bag, intent on sketching out a summary of the night's events while the memories were fresh in his mind.
The young man closed his eyes, lulled by the sound of Severus's pencil tapping and scratching against the paper. Just as Severus suspected he fell asleep, Harry spoke. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Have you slept?"
"Like I said, potions perform miracles," Severus said.
"It's no substitute for sleep," Harry parroted.
"I wasn't the one who was stabbed."
Harry shifted on the bed as if to make room before groaning. Severus didn't look up from his notes. "There's no room in that bed for both of us."
"You should sleep too… um," Harry said. "I still don't know your name."
"It's Severus. Now, sleep."
The young man grew quiet again. His breathing grew slower and softer. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and for a moment, considered leaving his investigation of the dagger for the morning, but only for a moment.
They still had a few hours before the herbalist opened her shop. He needed to glean all he could about the poison before then. However, the little mystery of the bandit's poisoned daggers seemed downright trivial compared to the one currently sleeping on the bed.
He leaned over Harry and gently brushed the adventurer's black hair off his brow. A jagged scar zigzagging down from his hairline hid underneath, like a trap waiting to be sprung.
Severus could feel a headache forming. In the dim candlelight, the resemblance was not clear, but now that he had seen the proof, Severus mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner.
He settled back into the chair and quietly picked up Harry's sword. He slowly unsheathed it, frowning at the words engraved on the blade just beneath the hilt.
Godric Gryffindor.
An untested youth with an enchanted sword was a nuisance. An untested Heir of Gryffindor with his ancestor's enchanted sword, however, brought with it complications, especially with that face and those bright green eyes.
He looked to be the right age to be their child. Twenty years was a long time, the sort that disappeared in a blink of the eye. Pity that no one had sent word, warning Severus that this fool's son had been set loose upon the world. The next time they met, the old man up north had better not pretend he had no idea her son had decided to play knight-errant with a priceless artifact.
The sword had the old man's metaphorical fingerprints all over it.
He slid the sword back into its sheath. The contrast of the enchanted silver and rubies with the plain cowhide scabbard was almost comical in its mismatch.
"How am I to get rid of you," he said softly as he rested the sword on the table.
The bright midmorning sun burned Severus's eyes as he stepped out of the inn. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, hoping for some relief from the glare. Harry, face still pale from his brush with death the night before, stretched his arms out in the sunlight, revitalized, only to wince and curl up as the stretch pulled at his barely-healed wound.
Severus rolled his eyes. "If you reopen that wound, you're healing it yourself," he said.
"Sorry," Harry said. In the light, the young man's eyes were a brilliant, unnerving shade of green. He trotted along one step behind Severus, seemingly unbothered by Severus's brutish manner. "I still haven't thanked you for saving me last night."
"You can thank me by paying me for all the potions and ingredients I used on you," Severus said. "And by repaying me for the room."
"Well," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. "That might take some time."
"What, you wasted your allowance of women and wine?"
"On armor and supplies, actually," Harry said. "I don't like wine." He paused. "Or women."
Severus decided to ignore the young man's aside. "Is that why you were in such a hurry to get yourself killed last night? To redeem a bounty?"
The young man ducked his head, embarrassment washing his cheeks pink. "I didn't realize how expensive traveling can be."
The herbalist's shop was near the southern wall. A modest garden thick with flowers and herbs separated the two-storied house from the main road. Severus glanced with appreciation at the ladywists growing in a pot by the door, the tiny, yellow seedpods ready to be harvested.
Inside the shop, the combined scent of potion-brewing, drying reagents, and ash was so strong, Severus felt a wave of nostalgia rush over him. The memories of his past life, of his dark, dank, dimly-lit brewing room, of long hours sweating and creating miracles over an open flame, bubbled up to the surface of his mind. He took a deep breath and exhaled, blowing across those old memories and letting them dissipate like smoke.
The main room of the shop took up most of the first floor. Near the entrance was a long counter backed by shelves full of labeled boxes and opaque bottles. Boughs of plants hung from the ceiling or lay in baskets along the wall, while a long, hardwood table took up the back of the room, with a couple of cauldrons gathering dust by the back door.
Whitby, the herbalist, was an elderly, dark-skinned woman just tall enough to reach Severus's shoulder. She stood at the counter with a cluster of dried lavender flowers at her elbow and a mortar and pestle in her hands.
She looked up from the petals she was grinding. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" she said, the hand holding the pestle never stopping.
"Morning, madam," Severus said as Harry closed the door behind them. "Do you have any potions to sell?"
"Some," she said. There was a bit of sweat on her brow. "I mostly sell ingredients."
Severus gestured at the long table. "And the brewing space?"
"You can use it. If you buy ingredients. And promise to leave by sundown. Can't have you loitering around my shop all night, no matter how handsome you are." She winked.
"You flatter me, madam," Severus said with a smile, ignoring the dumbfounded look on Harry's face.
"So, what are you interested in?" Whitby said as she set the pestle aside.
"Blood replenishers, curatives, stamina restorers," Severus said as the herbalist went to her shelves. At a glance, Severus could see much of what he needed was not there. "I had to use most of my supplies last night."
"Oh? Ran into something nasty?"
"A few bandits in the Necropolis," he said breezily. "They were easy enough to dispose of, but one of them had a dagger coated with a venom of some kind. At first, I believed it to be boomslang, but when I tested it, the reaction was not one I had expected."
"You say that as if—"The herbalist stopped. She looked at Severus in disbelief. "You've worked with boomslang venom before?"
"I was very fortunate in my youth," Severus said.
"I bet you were." She planted her hands on the counter and leaned forward. "What was it? Imperial potioneer? State alchemist?"
"Nothing so exotic," Severus said, his tone a bit sharp though his smile did not waver. "My uncle was an apothecary in the capital." The old lie slid smoothly off his tongue.
"Oh, is that all," the woman said, disappointment clear on her face as she pushed away from the counter. "And here I was hoping for something more interesting."
"I don't understand," Harry said. "What's boomslang?"
The woman spun towards Harry, a wide grin on her face. "A boomslang, little boy, is a vicious, venomous tree snake. Even one scratch of its dripping fangs is enough to kill!"
"Their venom keeps the blood from clotting," Severus said, rolling his eyes at the herbalist's antics. "If untreated, the victim usually bleeds to death." Harry's face grew white. "That reminds me." He turned towards the herbalist. "Any antivenin in stock?"
"Fresh out."
Brewing, in one sense, was a form of meditation for Severus. The slow, steady stirring of a potion, the crunch of ingredients under a pestle. It was easy to fall into a trance and let the rhythm of destruction and creation pull him under its sway. He still remembered the times he had spent days hunched over a cauldron, letting the fumes seep into his hair, his clothes, his skin, his blood, as he sought illusive perfection.
The sweet satisfaction of a perfectly brewed potion was worth the back pain back then.
Brewing, however, was also a great source of irritation.
"Do you even know what 'finely chopped' means?" Severus said, pushing the bowl of chopped ginger back into Harry's hands. "That means 'cut into millimeter-wide pieces'. Not 'mangle with your teeth'."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I've never made potions before," Harry said, shuffling back to the preparation table.
"Now, now," the herbalist said from the counter, putting a flake of the dagger's venom on a glass saucer, "you shouldn't be so hard on the boy." She carefully put a drop of solution onto the flake and smiled as the liquid sizzled. She jotted a few words in the open journal beside her. "He's probably starving, waiting for you to finish so that you could go eat lunch." She glanced at the water clock on the top of her shelf. "A very late lunch."
Severus sighed through his nose, set his stirrer down, and straightened his back. "If you were hungry, you should have said." He tossed a couple of coins at the young adventurer. "Go, and hurry back when you're done filling your belly."
Harry snatched the coins out of the air with one hand. "Do you want me to bring you back something?"
"I'll eat when I'm done here."
"Are you sure?"
"My, you're a stubborn one," the herbalist said. "Go on, little boy. I can hear your stomach growling from here."
"I'm twenty," Harry muttered under his breath, a mulish look on his face. At a sharp look from Severus, he swallowed down the rest of his complaints and left the shop without another word.
"He's an odd child," the herbalist said as the door swung shut. "Willing to hang around and ruin a perfect brew instead of running off to fight a dragon somewhere."
"He had a fright last night," Severus said, pulling the ginger close and cutting the chopped chunks more finely. "It's expected he would cling close to the person who saved him."
The herbalist hummed. She picked out another flake of venom from the small pile Severus had given her as payment. "You are a truly gifted alchemist if you were able to cure him of this." She held the flake up for a better look. Dried, the venom had an opal-like luster, changing colors in the light. "It's more than just venom, isn't it?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Severus said.
"That I doubt," she said. "My uncle wasn't an apothecary in the capital. What do you think is the added element? Magic? It's too…" She pursed her lips and watched the colors change on the flake's surface. "Unnatural."
Severus staggered up the main road, back stiff from leaning over cauldrons, hands cramped from stirring and cutting, and eyes stinging from the fumes. The herbalist smiled as she bundled him out of the shop as the sun set, tossing a few healing potions into his arms as compensation for stealing the curative he was in the middle of brewing.
No matter. He had gotten more out of the bargain in the end.
Lively chatter and snippets of song floated through the air as woodcutters ambled down the main road from the forests and farmers carted their crops up from the fields along the southern road.
As he passed the Black Calla, the servant from the night before appeared from the stables and waved at Severus. "Good evening, alchemist!"
"Evening, Seaton."
"About the horse you brought yesterday—lovely girl, by the way, very polite—she's gone," Seaton said with a grin. "That boy that was with you took her. Hours ago."
"It was his horse," Severus said, a frown forming on his lips. "Do you know which way he went?"
"To the north gate," she said. "He looked really bad last night. I'm glad he looks much better now."
Severus hummed. "No doubt, it won't be long before he gets another knife stuck inside him." He gave her a coin in thanks, let out a sigh, and started his climb back to the Necropolis.
"Are you going out to find him?" Seaton shouted after him.
Severus didn't answer. If he ran into that young man again, it would be much too soon.
The walk up to the ancient temple was more arduous than it had been the night before. The lack of sleep and the slight, very slight, worry gnawing at the back of his mind made the climb difficult, but he made it to the cobbled road just as the moon began to rise above the mountain.
The bodies of the bandits from the night before were gone. Only the splashes and streaks of dried blood on the stones remain.
Nevertheless, he crept just out of sight of the cobbled road, intent on watching for fires and listening for voices in the wind. The Necropolis, however, was silent. Only the chirps of insects could be heard, chirps and chittering and the snorts of a horse.
Up close, the temple entrance's magnificent size struck dread in the hearts of lesser men. Two pillared arches stretched out like wings on either side of the building; the dizzyingly high tower over the large doors loomed overhead like a dragon's tail, poised to strike.
Harry's white horse glared balefully at Severus as he approached her. Her reins were tied loosely around one of the spikes that jutted out and up from the walls like fangs. She stomped and scratched the ground with one hoof, as if each clack and clop were letters spelling out her anger.
"At least he did not go far," Severus said to the horse. "He still owes me money."
The horse lowered her head, her large amber eyes full of malice as she continued to stomp her feet.
The temple's doors swung open with ease. Freshly lit torches led Severus straight to a grand entrance hall. It once held hundreds of dragon worshippers as they performed their rites around the ornate stone altar set in the center of the circular room.
Now, only rats and spiders skittered under the stone eyes of the dragons carved into the walls.
The air, however, was fresher than Severus had expected; a flowery sweetness perfumed the light breeze that teased the threadbare banners still hanging down from the high ceiling. In the back of the room, a pair of latticed gates hung open, revealing the entrance to a dimly-lit tunnel.
Severus drew his wand, walked around the platform in the middle of the room, and strode into the bowels of the temple, the sweetly perfumed breeze blowing against his brow.
As he made his way down the narrow passages, Severus could feel a growing anxiety press down on his shoulders. From time to time, the passages would open up to catacombs filled with the ancient dead. Skulls, playfully piled one on top of another, lined the doorways, their empty sockets swallowing the firelight. Shrouded corpses lay in the walls, their final resting places narrow slots carved out of the stone. Bones and crushed urns littered the ground, but the shrouded dead did not stir from their rest as Severus silently strode past them.
He followed the crushed remains from one puzzle room to the next, irritated with himself for misjudging the young adventurer's abilities and furiously denying he was impressed that Harry had gotten this far into the temple on his own.
Certainly, some luck must be at play here. He glared at a totem by yet another unlocked gate before pressing on.
After what felt like hours, Severus finally heard someone's soft muttering up ahead.
"Okay, if turning this one turns that one… but I need that one to face this way…"
Harry stood by yet another locked gate, closely examining the set of locks in the center. Grave dust coated his armor and clothes and had turned his bright red scarf gray. The ruby embedded in the pommel of his sword gleamed in the firelight.
"I expected," Severus said, pleased with the way the adventurer all but leapt out of his skin at the sound of his voice, "you to return after having a meal at the Black Calla."
"Severus." Harry wiped his hands on his trousers and pulled down the scarf covering his face. "I can explain."
"You say that as if I care for any of your explanations," Severus said, pulling his cloak closed while crossing his arms. "Harry Potter."
Harry stilled. His hand fell carefully to his sword, ghosting his fingers along the hilt. "How do you know my full name?"
Severus sneered. "Who else but James Potter's progeny would walk around with the Sword of Gryffindor strapped to his waist, treating it like a common sword?" Harry's hand was on the hilt now. "But, even without the sword, it was easy to see just who you are. It's written all over your face."
"Who are you?" Harry slowly shifted into a fighting stance. The sword wasn't drawn… yet. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip.
"What, did your father not tell you about me?" Severus stalked along the edge of the room. Harry side-stepped slowly as he mirrored Severus, keeping him in front of him while not letting him draw closer. "No, of course he didn't. He died, didn't he, foolhardily diving into barrows in search of Blessings he was not even remotely worthy of. Interesting to see you take after him so well."
Harry's eyes flashed with growing anger. "My father wasn't foolhardy."
"How can you be so sure?" Severus said. "You were an infant when he died."
"I know who you are, too," Harry said. "I wasn't sure at first, and you were… really kind to me. But you would be, wouldn't you, to draw me out?"
"What are you babbling about?"
"I saw your tattoo last night. A green snake and a white skull, right? You're the one who killed my mother."
Severus gritted his teeth, sorrow as sharp as a blade threatening to knock him back.
"You're Voldemort!" Harry accused in a horrified whisper.
Severus froze, too stunned to speak. "What?"
A shadow detached itself from the darkness in the passage, swinging a long, spiked club at Harry's head. Severus whipped out his wand, sending out a spell to push the adventurer out of the way.
Harry crashed against the far wall, narrowly missing the swing only to knock his head against stone.
"Oh, just the wizard I wanted to see," the attacker said, slowly sauntering into the light. It was the dagger-wielding bandit from the night before. His clothes still had Harry's blood splattered on his sleeves and front. A strip of black cloth now covered his left eye.
He lifted the heavy club and rested it against his shoulder. "I have a score to settle with you."
Severus stepped forward, wand at the ready. He eyed the club's spikes. "Is that coated with poison as well?"
"Uh? Coated with what now?" The bandit twirled the club. It whistled through the air. "You think I'm an underhanded bastard like you? I don't need little tricks to take my enemies out. My own strength is enough."
"One of the daggers you had last night," Severus said, his wand trained on the bandit. "There was snake venom on it. So if you didn't put it on them, who did?"
Daggers did not respond, but he did not attack either. Harry shook his head and tried to get his feet under him. Severus held a hand out towards him, gesturing at him to stay still.
"I got those daggers off a corpse five days ago," the bandit said. "A creepy bastard in black robes. Maybe one of your buddies?"
"Was there anything on the body? Tattoos? Some strange jewelry?"
Daggers tilted his head. "Tell me," he grinned, baring his teeth, "why should I answer any more of your questions when it won't matter in a coupla minutes, uh?" Rage blazed in his eye. He pointed at Severus with his club. "You killed my brother, and I'm lookin' to return the favor!"
With a wild, high-pitched yell, Daggers burst forward, club swinging for Severus's head. Severus leaned out of the way, the club a hair's-breadth away from cracking his nose, and stumbled back. He cast a ward spell just as the bandit whipped his arm back for a backswing.
The force of the club shattered the shield, pushing Severus back several feet. He was not as nimble as he was twenty years ago. Physically, he was no match for Daggers's speed, but he had to trust that his magic was faster than the madman's swing. With a flick of his wand, ice spikes shot out into the room in a wide arch.
Daggers swung at the projectiles, batting them away before leaping into the air. He swung his club down with both hands; Severus raised another ward, the shield barely holding as the bandit's club smashed into it.
Before Daggers could regain his footing, Severus pushed him back with a blast of wind, but the bandit deftly flipped and twirled in the air, quickly regaining his footing.
"O-ho, you got me dancing for a second there." The man's teeth-filled grin only grew wider. "Let's see if you can keep up!"
He spun, throwing the club at Severus, before rushing straight at him. Severus repelled the weapon with a spell, but that left him with no time to defend against Daggers's next attack, a windmill kick to the jaw that knocked Severus to the ground.
Severus tasted blood in his mouth as he rolled out of the way and to his feet. His head was ringing. Everything was starting to look a little hazy. He spat the blood out onto the ground and glowered at the bandit balancing himself on his hands.
Daggers got back on his feet with a spin and a smooth twisting of his hips. He threw his arms up and back and let out another wild, high-pitched laugh. "There it is!" he said, bending his knees and surging forward. "My favorite color!"
Severus shot a rapid succession of stunning and repelling spells, but he could not keep up with the madman as Daggers ducked and weaved around each shot. His spells might be keeping the bandit at bay, but it was only a matter of time before he made it past Severus's attacks.
There was also another concern.
"Severus!"
A hastily-cast ward blocked Daggers's high kick, but Severus could feel his magic flagging. He couldn't hold the bandit off for much longer, especially as the man's frenetic attacks grew wilder and more unpredictable.
"Stay back!" Flames flared around Severus like a cloak, pushing the bandit back and giving himself a moment to catch his breath.
"Don't worry, kid," Daggers said, tearing his singed shirt off and stripping to the waist. "Once I'm done with the wizard, I'll take you for a spin on the dance floor, too."
Severus sucked in a breath. A tattoo of two white snakes, their bodies half-concealed by dark clouds and flowers, decorated the man's chest and arms. One snake bared its fangs above the bandit's heart, while the other lurked just over the opposite shoulder, its tongue tasting the air, their bodies seemingly moving in the firelight.
Severus didn't know what god or monster bestowed it, if the snakes were the messengers of the Benevolent Hannah or if they were the children of the Cycles, but it was clear that the no-name madman carried a Blessing.
A sudden thought occurred to him.
"Tell me," Severus said as the swirling flames started to die out, "do you always lick your daggers before a fight?"
"Uh?"
A boom from deep within the temple shook the earth underneath their feet, startling all three men.
"What was that?" Harry asked. "An earthquake?"
"We have to go," Severus said.
"You are not going anywhere, wizard," Daggers said. "This fight isn't over."
Severus shot a stunning spell at the man's chest, knocking Daggers out and back.
Harry stared at Severus in disbelief as the bandit fell, legs over head. "Why didn't you do that earlier!?"
"You think I wasn't trying!?" He aimed his wand at the tedious puzzle lock on the gate. "Alohomora!"
The gate sprung open with a click. Severus ran through the opening, his wand at the ready for any disturbed dead while he blindly searched his bag for a stamina potion with his other hand.
Harry dashed past him, catching the first restless dead that approached them with a sword strike to the exposed ribcage. It crumbled under the attack, its bones clattering to the ground, as two more took its place.
Harry struck those down with as much ease as he did with the first. The sword glowed as it vanquished each undead foe, the enchantments clearly doing most of the work. Severus ran behind him and knocked back a bottle of stamina potion, licking the cloyingly sweet liquid off his lips as heat rushed through his veins.
They sprinted over the bodies of the undead into another narrow passage. Just as the passage opened up into the next chamber beyond, Severus grabbed Harry by the back of his tunic and pulled him back into the shadows.
He covered Harry's mouth with his hand and softly shh'ed into the adventurer's ear. He wrapped his other arm around Harry, pinning his arms to his sides. Harry struggled in his embrace, mumbling against Severus's palm. Severus squeezed him tighter, hissing in the idiot's ear, "Listen."
Harry stilled, his eyes wide in confusion as he started to hear it, too.
Just beyond the passage was a large, cavernous chamber, the largest in the temple by far, the dragon's tomb. Stalactites and stalagmites hung from above and rose underfoot, like dragon teeth bared against those who dared to intrude on its slumber. A narrow footpath ran between two shallow pools from the passage to a central stage raised several feet above the cavern floor. On this grand stage, backed by a curved stone wall decorated with a faded painting of the entombed dragon, knelt a circle of fifteen or so black-hooded figures.
They were chanting, the words unknown but resonating with power. Their voices echoed off the cave walls, the overlapping sounds turning into an intermittent drone, the power within the noise overlapping and increasing with each repetition.
Within the circle of warlocks, lying on a dragon altar, was the broadsword-wielding bandit from the night before, hands bound and stripped to the waist. From this distance, it was hard to tell if the bandit was indeed still alive or if his corpse was enough for the warlocks and their ritual.
Cold metal touched Severus's neck. "Didn't I say our fight wasn't over, wizard?" the Snake-Blessed bandit whispered in Severus's ear. He pressed the flat of a knife against Severus's jaw. "It's very rude to leave a dance before it's finished."
"Apologies, more urgent matters presented themselves."
Another boom, this time much closer, shook the temple, followed by a distinct dragon's roar. A bright silver light filled the chamber as a dragon spirit rose from the bound bandit and stretched its body high above the warlocks' heads.
It opened its mouth and roared, fury sparking across its silver-colored body like lightning. The warlocks trembled, cowering as the dragon spirit's tyrannical power pressed down on them. The one closest to the bound bandit pushed himself to his feet and glared up at the spirit. His straightened shoulders trembled.
The knife against Severus's jaw pulled away. "Kay?" Daggers whispered, disbelieving. He snarled and brought the knife to Severus's face, the tip dangerously close to Severus's eye. "What are they doing to my brother?" he said, his voice low and dark.
The lone warlock standing up to the dragon's fury pulled out a pendant from within the folds of his black robes and started chanting in a weak voice. The other warlocks joined in, bowing their heads as the dragon roared. A thin silvery thread unfurled from the dragon spirit's body and slowly entered the cheap-looking accessory.
"They're using him as a conduit to steal the dragon's power," Severus said. "If you want your brother alive, we need to stop them."
The moment the knife withdrew, Severus raised his wand and summoned the pendant out of the warlock's hand.
That was the only signal Daggers needed. With a wild, screeching yell, he dashed out of the passage and leapt straight for the pack of warlocks. He jumped up onto the stage and crashed through their formation, wasting no momentum as he sliced through the neck of one and drove the heel of his boot into another.
Harry jerked out of Severus's arms and ran after the bandit, sword drawn and at the ready. Severus chased after the adventurer, casting spells over Harry's shoulder to take down as many of the warlocks as possible. "Fall back!" he yelled, cursing one warlock's joints to lock, toppling him off the raised stage and into one of the shallow pools.
"He's going to kill them all!" Harry screamed. One warlock flung a sickly green spell at Harry, who only just managed to parry it away with his enchanted sword.
"They're going to kill you!"
Daggers cackled as he rampaged, the bodies dropping as he spun and kicked and stabbed his way from one end of the stage to the other. Power flared out of his body like flames as he stomped his heel in the face of one opponent and sent another flying into a stalagmite without catching his breath.
Was that the power of a Blessing?
The dragon spirit roared, its claws outstretched and mouth wide, the thin thread of power still being siphoned away by the pendant in Severus's hand. He dropped it to the ground and, with a spell, blasted the cheap-looking trinket to dust.
Immediately, the warlocks who were still alive started to scream and clutch at their heads. The dragon spirit grew as bright as the sun, dazzling Severus's eyes. The scent of oranges filled the air as the cavern crackled with oppressive power.
"Harry!" he yelled, grabbing the adventurer by the shoulder. He pulled Harry into his arms and down to the ground, wrapping their bodies with his cloak.
He landed hard on top of Harry but did not let go, pushing Harry's face into his chest. All around them, thunder boomed and people screamed as the dragon unleashed its fury on those who had tried to contain it.
Harry clutched at Severus's robes. His heart was racing so hard and fast, Severus could feel it pounding against his own.
Severus shuddered with each booming thunder-strike. His body trembled with fear that the next strike would be aimed at their heads. He rubbed and clutched at Harry's hair, reassuring words stuck in his throat.
Harry shoved his sweaty forehead against Severus's neck. Fast, shaky breaths blew against his skin. Harry's arms squeezed around Severus's waist, clinging tight.
Daggers's cackling laugh never stopped, the sound rising above the screams and the thunder. The cacophony grew higher and more wanton with each strike before it was all drowned out by one final roar.
Eventually, the echoes stopped. The chamber grew quiet.
Severus slowly opened his eyes to the sound of dripping water and heavy breathing. They sat up slowly, the cloak falling away as they pulled out of each other's arms. The burned-out husks of warlocks lay where the dragon spirit had struck them down, on their knees in supplication or on their bellies after trying to run away.
They rose to their feet. Harry's hand clamped onto Severus's forearm. They stared up to the stage, their eyes drawn to the two men left standing.
The broadsword-wielding bandit was floating in the air, unbound and wrapped in silver light. Wind and lightning spun gently around him, wrapping him in a shroud of power so potent, Severus could taste it.
Severus dared a glance at Harry's face. Harry glanced back, awe and fear in his wide, unblinking eyes.
Daggers edged closer to his brother, one blood-covered hand reaching out.
"Kay," he said softly, his one eye shining suspiciously with moisture.
Broadsword floated down and landed gently on his feet as the last of the dragon's light faded away. Black lines raced across the man's back and shoulders, forming a large tattoo of the silver dragon, its mouth open in mid-roar and its body bristling with power. Color rushed to the skin, painting the beast in white and red.
The newly-Blessed man shuddered and opened his eyes. "Brother," he said, voice hoarse as if he had been the one roaring this whole time. He took a step towards Daggers and collapsed in the thinner man's arms, sending them both to their knees.
Daggers wrapped his arms tight around his brother's back and buried his face in Broadsword's shoulder. The snakes tattooed on his arms seemed to shift, stretching their bodies out to touch the tattooed dragon.
Harry let out a hiss as Severus felt a sharp pain in his forearm. Severus pulled away from Harry and turned, hiding his arm from the young man's view as he pushed up his sleeve.
The false Blessing the Dark Lord had branded on his skin was gone. Instead of the familiar, shameful snake and skull, the silver dragon had wrapped itself around his forearm. Its tail brushed against the pulse point at his wrist; its grinning head rested just below the inside of his elbow. In its claw was a giant orb, a pearl of wisdom held out for Severus to decipher.
"Severus," Harry whispered. He held out his right arm. On it was a smaller tattoo of the dragon, its body curled around Harry's wrist like a scaled bracelet. His eyes shone with excitement. "Does this mean we're Blessed, too?"
Severus turned to the Dragon-Blessed bandit for answers, but the man was crying quietly onto his brother's bare shoulder.
Along with some coins and shoddy weapons, the lion's share of which went to the bandits, Severus found scrolls and notes on several of the warlocks' bodies. He took care as he stuffed them into his bag to peruse later. He still needed to send a report of his findings north, but that could wait until he left Glenloris in general and this tomb in particular.
In the back of the tomb, hidden by a slab and opened with a secret mechanism, was a small chamber and a long corridor that led directly out onto the cobbled road. The midmorning sunshine melted away the cold of the catacombs and warmed Severus's chilled skin.
The two bandits slunk out arm in arm. It was clear who was supporting whom.
"Don't think I've forgotten about that dance, wizard," Daggers said. "You still owe me a spin."
"Brother, please," Broadsword said.
Severus pulled out some healing potions from his bag and held them out to the two men. "Find another dance partner."
The two men eyed the potions. Broadsword took them in his meaty hand and stuffed them into his pocket. "Thank you," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Dagggers sighed and shrugged his shoulders before the two slowly walked away.
"Severus," Harry said as the two bandits disappeared from sight. "I'm sorry I called you Voldemort back there."
"You shouldn't say that name," Severus said.
"And that you killed my mother," Harry pushed on. "It's just that that tattoo was on your arm, and I know only Voldemort's followers have it—"
"Stop saying that name." Severus started walking.
Harry quickly followed after him. "But," he continued, "since the dragon removed it and gave you its Blessing in its place, I figured you couldn't be what I thought you were."
"We didn't receive a Blessing."
"Well, I feel Blessed," Harry said, bouncing along. "I feel like there's this spark of power deep inside of me now, waiting for me to tap into it."
Severus's new tattoo practically hummed with power. It flowed through his body, intertwining with his magic almost to the point of being painful. If this was how a partial Blessing felt, he could only guess at how overwhelming a true Blessing would be. It would take some time before he became used to it.
"Leaving your horse behind, Potter?"
"My… Hedwig!" Harry dashed up the cobbled road.
Severus kept walking, determined to leave the nuisance behind, but something in his heart slowed his steps.
Lily would be furious with him if he left her inexperienced child to fend for himself in the wild, he reasoned, thinking of some reason as to why he felt unable to walk away. Harry barely handled one fight on his own and was useless against anything except the restless dead. He would end up robbed and dead in a ditch in six months if Severus did not keep a (very reluctant) eye on him.
He nodded to himself. That must be the reason.
Harry led his horse down the road. The smile that bloomed on Harry's face when he noticed Severus was still there made Severus's heart inexplicably skip a beat. He scowled and cleared his throat.
"You still owe me for all the potions I used on you," Severus said, crossing his arms. "And the room. And the coins I gave you for lunch."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll pay you back as soon as I go after that bounty on White Tusk Ridge."
"You nearly died because of one bandit, and you want to try your hand at a second?"
"That's not fair. He was Blessed. And you didn't do much better."
"Last time I checked, not getting stabbed is much better than getting stabbed," Severus said.
The horse snorted.
"See, your beast agrees with me."
Harry rubbed the mare's neck. "Well, if you think so, Hedwig, who am I to argue," he said, bowing to the horse's logic.
Severus sighed, reconsidering his decision. "Come along, I'm starving and itching for a bath."
"And maybe we can still have that drink at the inn later."
"What is with your fixation on—"
Harry clasped his right hand over Severus's tattooed forearm. The matching blessings resonated like a bell, deep and gentle and not unpleasantly. Severus stared at Harry's hand, distracted, when—
Oh.
Oh!
Severus stepped back, his hands flying to cover his lips. Blood rushed to his face. "W-wha-wha-!"
Harry had the nerve to smile shyly at Severus, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. "Thank you. For saving my life."
"I didn't save you just for you to kiss me!" Severus yelped.
His flustered face must have looked comical to the young adventurer. Harry's smile only grew wider, warmer. "The way I see it," he said, "you saved me four times in two days. How else can I repay you?"
"With money!"
"Then," Harry said. He took Severus's hands in his and gently lowered them to take a better look at Severus's face. "I'll have to think of another reason to do this."
The first kiss was a mere peck, a fast, darting touch. The second kiss took its time.
Severus's heart was racing as Harry pulled away. He licked his lips, tasting the warmth Harry left on them.
The resurrection lilies by the road swayed in the wind as Harry leaned in to give Severus a third.
-THE END
Minor notes for those interested:
- The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim's Falkreath and its graveyard town vibes was the inspiration for Glenloris. The ancient tomb is based on the game's Nordic ruins. Severus's elemental attacks are cribbed from the game's magic system.
- The dagger-wielding bandit and his dragon brother are based on Goro Majima and Kazuma Kiryu from the Ryu ga Gotoku/Yakuza/Like a Dragon series. The stamina potions also come from that series. The tattoos as well, but the idea of them being magical is not.
- "Receive You" is the main theme of the first RGG game. It shows up remixed or as a leitmotif in most of the later games. The boss fight music that was definitely playing during the second fight is titled "Receive and Curse You".