Afraid to Live, Afraid to Die

**Please do not comment on how I write. It's simple. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. If there are mistakes however, you are more than welcome to point those out. This is Harry/Snape and will get dirty at some point, so please be patient.**



Italics - Harry's Writing

Bold - Mental Speaking


CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SPELL OF EMPTINESS


One loss

One fight

Locked me in the heart of misery


Heart of Misery ~ The Rasmus


Harry held the golden cup in his hand, his green eyes fixated on it. Ron, Hermione and Draco sat next to him, watching him intently, waiting for him to do something. The ring was currently in Dumbledore’s possession, but he didn’t know if it was destroyed. The locket and diadem that had been collected last year were now nothing but a pile of broken pieces. The diary had been gone for a while now, so all-in-all they had six of the seven Horcruxes in their control. The seventh wasn’t hard to find, just hard to acquire, as the snake was almost always by Voldemort.


The only thing he was apprehensive about was what to do with the piece of soul inside of him. The most logical choice would be to die, killing off that part inside him, but death had its ways of being permanent, and he still had to actually fight the evil snake bastard still. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Harry handed the cup to Draco, giving Hermione a look that told her to inform the blonde what to do with it. After standing, Harry left the Great Hall, making his way to the library. For days he’d been looking through the school books for any kind of information about removing a foreign soul from a living being, but so far he hadn’t made any progress.


“Potter! Where are you?” Snape’s voice filtered through Harry’s thought-filled mind sometime later.
“In the library,” He simply stated.


“Did you forget that today is the day Death Eaters invade the school?” His dominus’ words were harsh and Harry stood, suddenly remembering.


The doors to the library burst open and there stood a Death Eater wand pointed at him. It all happened in a split second; the man cast a spell and Harry heard another voice from behind the hooded man. The Death Eater’s spell bounced off of Harry’s shield just as the man fell. Standing there on the far side was Draco, his wand pointing at the felled Death Eater.


Harry nodded at the blonde, pulling out his wand as he moved towards him. Together, they made their way through the castle, taking down the intruders as they went. As they were nearing the entrance, Harry caught sight of Pansy, as she disappeared around a corner. Changing his original path, Harry followed after her, ignoring Draco’s questioning look. The Boy-Who-Lived reached the end of the hallway, but not soon enough.


Dumbledore was battling off several enemies when Pansy snuck up behind him, casting the Killing Curse. The old man didn’t stand a chance as he turned to face her, his blue eyes twinkling one last time before the light faded. With their task completed, the Death Eaters fled, still shooting off curses as they went. Harry was frozen in his place, his unblinking eyes on Dumbledore’s lifeless form.
It wasn’t until he was enveloped in a strong embrace, that he realized that it was still dangerous as Voldemort’s followers attempted to leave. Green eyes focused on the black fabric blocking his view. Realizing that it was his bond-mate, Harry buried his face in the muscular chest, hiding the emotions that showed in his expression.


After the small battle was over, Harry was taken to the infirmary, just to confirm that he wasn’t hurt. There was no communication between student and teacher on the way back to their rooms. Harry was given a Dreamless Sleep potion, but he just couldn’t fall asleep; the image of Dumbledore’s death engraved into his mind.


They didn’t speak until the day of the Headmaster’s funeral. Harry stood across the lake, the white marble tomb gleaming in the sunlight. Tearing his eyes from the recurring memory, green eyes drifted out to the lake, to the Merpeople lurking below the surface. Suddenly Snape’s presence materialized behind him, the bond now open after it had been closed since the night of the attack.


“I failed. I wanted to protect everyone, and I failed,” Harry felt the quiver in his thoughts.


“It’s war, Potter. I’m afraid that both sides are going to take casualties. You’re only one person, you can’t save them all by yourself,” Snape’s voice was calm and soothing.


Harry leaned up against the tree he was currently lurking by, not daring to look at his bond-mate. “If I had remembered, maybe I could have saved him.”


The taller man sighed. “There are always a lot of ‘ifs’, Potter. Continue thinking about them and you’ll get so caught up in them that you may miss something important.”


“Even though I think he was a manipulative, conniving bastard that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead, but I’m sure he died with regrets,” Harry’s eyes went back to the gleaming tomb.


Snape moved closer. “Most die with regrets, so live like you’re going to die at any moment.”


“Like you do?” Harry’s voice was bitter.


“What is that supposed to mean, Potter?” His tone spoke of danger.


“All of these years and you’ve never found someone else to love. I’m sure my mom wouldn’t want you to live alone. The only reason you’re protecting me is because of her. You feel guilty because you believe that it’s your fault that she died,” Harry finally looked at his teacher, noticing the dark glare.


“Watch yourself, Potter. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Snape threatened.


“Well, now we’re even. Dumbledore is dead because of something I’ve done wrong, and he was like a father to you. So now there’s no need to protect me any more. You’re free of any promises you made, to anyone, even yourself,” Harry pushed away from the tree, stalking passed his teacher.


A strong grip on his upper arm prevented him from storming off. Green eyes clashed with black, the mismatched ones losing after a minute or so to look away.


“There was nothing you could have done for Dumbledore. Absolutely nothing. He knew the risk he was taking when he went to battle Death Eaters,” Snape’s voice was back to being calm.


“You blame me. Why else have you been blocking me for the last two weeks?” Harry’s voice was bitter again.


“I haven’t been the one blocking you,” With that thought in the air, the teacher left the boy standing there in shock.


Harry stood there until everyone had gone back inside and the Merpeople had disappeared from sight. Had he really been blocking Snape because of Dumbledore’s death? The boy could only take his teacher’s word for it. Why had Snape started speaking out loud? Surely it wasn’t because he wanted his angry tone to come through, after all, it did it just fine through the bond, perhaps even stronger than. Maybe Harry had started blocking the older man again, the conversation he didn’t really want to have. Perhaps that was it, in an attempt to continue to let himself feel guilty, Harry hadn’t wanted to hear the older man’s words. Yet his brain had not realized that Snape could speak out loud, unlike him, allowing him to soothe some of Harry’s guilt. Now he was just ashamed. Ashamed that he hadn’t even realized that he'd been blocking his dominus, Harry avoided the dark man the last days of school.


The day they were leaving, the Golden Boy was walking down the hall, alone, when he was grabbed and abruptly pulled into an empty classroom. Surprised to find himself staring into shadowy angry eyes, Harry opened his mouth, but any further action was squashed when cold lips pressed against his.
A warm tongue slipped into his mouth, caressing his own into submission. The wall was swiftly against his back as he was devoured by his dominus, one of Snape’s hand undoing the button to his trousers. That slender hand slipped down his pants, encircling his slightly erect member. As Snape’s talented hand brought him to full attention, his lips had trailed down to suck on the crook of his neck. Harry followed his teacher’s example and found the taller man’s already aroused penis. With a mental moan, their bond erupted, each emotion that he’d been missing out on, flooded in.


He hoisted himself so that he had his legs wrapped around Snape’s waist, using his Quidditch honed body to accomplish the feat. The younger boy threaded his free hand into the black silky strands, pulling slightly, exciting a moan from his bond-mate. Upon reaching his climax, Harry arched against his professor, instinctually milking an orgasm from his lover. Snape’s growl made him shiver, and Harry bit down on the expanse of neck laid out for him.


Still locked around the taller man’s waist as they came down from their pleasure high, Harry let his fingers trail through the dark locks loosely. After several moments of catching their breath, Snape unlocked Harry’s legs, setting him back on his feet. Smiling up at his dominus, Harry pulled his clothes back into order.


“If I’d known that ignoring you would lead to this, then I would have done it a long time ago,” Harry’s smile was victorious.


“Wipe that smile from your face. You didn’t win anything. I just couldn’t let you leave with the bond still blocked,” Snape retorted, releasing the younger man.


Mismatched green eyes shone mischievously, watching the older man right his clothes. “You can’t lie to me. I can feel your satisfaction and pleasure.”


Snape didn’t respond. Instead he turned on his heel, intent on leaving. He was stopped by a hand gripping his arm. Turning to peer at the boy with one eyebrow cocked, the teacher waited.


“I’m leaving the Dursley’s early. Tell Voldemort whatever it was that Dumbledore had planned,” Harry said.


Thin lips tightened in consideration. “Very well. I will come collect you on June 25th, at 7 pm. You can stay with me until the next stage of the bond is completed.”


Harry was shocked, and then confused. “But isn’t the next stage where we need daily contact? Wouldn’t it be better if I just stayed with you until school starts?”


“Since you will not be attending school next year, we will need to get used to spending time apart. I will come to Grimmauld Place on weekends, so that we may survive the week,” With a curt nod, the teacher was gone.


Once he was tucked away on the train, sandwiched between his friends, did Harry realize that their bond was stretching like it had the year before. Glad that their bond was stronger and covered more distance, Harry smiled. At the train station, green eyes watched the blonde in the herd of red-heads disappear through the crowd.


Turning to follow the Dursley’s, Harry heaved a sigh as he prepared for another summer with his relatives. Just like last year, his snowy white owl was safely at the Weasley’s by now, right next to Pig and Errol. Looking up at the identical house that he had lived in for nearly the last seventeen years, he knew that his would be the last time that he came to stay here.


Instead of locking himself in his room like last summer, the seemingly unwanted boy did everything his Uncle demanded of him, calmly ignoring the insults thrown his way. Even at this distance, with their bond stronger, Harry couldn’t speak to his dominus, but every emotion still came through. As did a sharp pain that once burned Harry’s left forearm late one night. At night, after spending all day doing the chores, Harry collapsed in bed, his body weary, but his mind still racing. It was halfway through the second week that he finally fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


At first he was wandering through a fog-filled black emptiness, no sound reaching him. As he floated through the nothingness it took several long moments for something to change. It was a strange sound, broken by sobbing. Only when the voice spoke did he realized who it was.


“Please don’t leave me. Come back, I can’t live without you,” It was Snape, his voice filled with distress.


A bright light engulfed him, causing him to close his eyes against it. When he re-opened them it was to a very familiar scene. The war against the dark side was scattered all over the grounds of the school. However, it was one point that drew his attention. In the midst of it all was himself, Snape cradling his motionless body. His floating body froze, for Harry knew the immobility that had claimed his slightly older body. It was the stillness of death. He had died in the war against Voldemort, who was still standing.


“You stupid boy. How could you leave me?” Snape’s face was streaked with tears.


A pale hand caressed his young lover’s peaceful, almost tranquil face. It was that look that the floating Harry couldn’t understand. Peaceful, like he had accepted his own death, even at the hand of Voldemort. Almost smiling, like he knew some big secret, and his demise hadn’t bothered him in the least. Perhaps he did. Maybe he was wiser in the future, but Harry couldn’t be sure.


His floating body felt a shock of electricity pulse through it, and his vision blurred. Another one and Snape’s tortured voice faded. A wave of nausea overtook him as his heart fluttered in his chest. Closing his eyes, Harry jerked awake, sitting upright to find a pair of strangers lurking above him. He was back in his room, the Dursley’s hovering in the doorway, looking on.


A flashlight blinded him as the men checked him over. He felt Snape’s worry and suddenly their bond snapped back into it’s normal state.


“What happened, Potter?” Snape’s voice was filled with unease.


“I think I just had a vision. The Dursley’s must have thought I was dead, because they tried to resuscitate me,” Harry said.


“I’m coming to collect you. Don’t leave with those Muggles.”


Silently Harry agreed with him, but he hoped his dominus arrived soon, because they looked ready to take him.

________________________


Preview of Chapter Sixteen: I Just Wanna Fly, Throw It All Away

“You really do enjoy making potions, don’t you?” Harry asked, after several long minutes of watching the fluid grace of the man, surrounded in his element.


Snape gave him a strange look. “Why else would I pick this job? Just like you want to be an Auror, right?”


Harry sighed, drawing abstract, invisible scribbles on the dark wood. “I wanted that once, but I’m so tired of fighting.”


“Then what will you do? Surely not become a Quidditch Player, you don’t look like you enjoy that when you play anymore,” Snape said, adding an ingredient to one of the bubbling potions.


“Merlin, no. I have enough fame as it is. Besides, when I get hurt, so would you, and I don't like to hurt you. I was thinking of actually using my fame and reputation for something good,” Harry responded.


“Like what?”


“Like maybe fundraising. For the families of the aftermath of the war to come. For witch and wizard orphans to have somewhere to go, so that we don’t have another Voldemort on our hands,” Harry said, his eyes avoiding Snape’s.


“I think that’s a great idea. One of the best you’ve ever had, in fact,” Snape was impressed.