Ashes of Armageddon

A week went by.



The new Polyjuice formula (all 20 versions of it), was ready. However, nothing else was.



Hagrid was gone from Hogwarts, and Ron did not manage to track him down. Ron spent hours of his free time reviewing interrogations records of Death Eaters, and found no useful information.



Hermione ran multiple tests and scans on all of them, looking for something they all had in common, that could account for them being able to withstand Harry\'s influence. But in the end, she, too emerged empty-handed.



Neville read all material he was able to find on the Deathly Hallows, the summoning of the departed, and the speculations on afterlife, only to give everybody an apologetic shrug at the end of the week.



Life at Godric\'s Hollow was normal for a few days, and then, the tension began to mount again. Severus could feel it, almost with his entire body. And for some reason, he found himself not scared, not depressed, not despondent, but rather, feeling genuinely hurt, as if an unspoken promise had been broken, or as if he had been betrayed or abandoned by a close friend. The emotion was completely uncalled for, entirely irrational, and yet, it persisted.



He was sulking quietly in the lab, portioning out the Polyjuice formula into small labeled vials, when Hermione kicked Neville out, cornered Severus and whispered quietly:



“Tell me.”



“It\'s difficult to put into words,” he said absently.



“Try.”



“It\'s private,” he said.



She looked at him sternly. “It isn\'t,” she said quietly. “It should be, but in your current position, nothing is. Not really. Your only choice is who learns first, me, or Harry Potter.”



He nodded, quite absently. “Very well.”



For the next few minutes, she listened, while he talked. Eventually she shook her head slightly. “I don\'t understand. The slave-bond does create feelings for the Master – but it takes time. It shouldn\'t be happening so soon. At least, not with this sort of intensity.”



“It\'s the ashes,” he said, staring ahead vacantly. “The remnants of the old slave-bond. The new slave-bond is accessing the memory of the old bond... aligning my feelings towards my current owner to what they used to be when I had been bonded to Albus...”



To her credit, she did not say anything to comfort him, or even offer a token word of sympathy; had she done so, he would have snapped at her viciously.



“Will it be a problem for you?” she asked point-blank. “To continue in this conspiracy, if you are going to be feeling true affection for him?”



“Not at all,” he said. “First of all, I can still feel anger, frustration, and even loathing for my Master. Loving Albus Dumbledore never prevented me from having those emotions present as well. Second, our intent is not to harm him. Third, even if it were, I still have a choice as to what my actions are. Whatever the emotions.” He smiled slightly. “Whatever my position in the world is, Miss Granger, I am first and foremost, human.”



She frowned instantly. “I\'ll research the slave-bond. Perhaps we can find a way to transfer it...”



He nodded without much hope on his face. “The slave-bonds are patriarchal. Remember that. They can only be transferred from father to son, when the son is old enough.”



“Wonderful,” she said dryly. “In thirteen years, maybe we can find Ginny and Albus Sirius, catch Harry on a good day, and get him to sign the bond over...”



Severus chuckled peacefully. “Clever. However, we both know I won\'t live that long.”



He pushed his emotions aside after that conversation with Hermione, and found solace in his work. He had a great deal of experience doing just that; and over the years he had become quite good at it.



The clinical trials of the Polyjuice potion passed with flying colors. Harry heard about it, and following Friday, invited Neville over for drinks to celebrate.



Severus sat at the dining table with the two of them. He did not have a single drop of alcohol – he figured, he had enough trouble biting his tongue around Harry Potter as it were, and the last thing he needed was something that would loosen his inhibitions.



“Think Hermione is going to be pissed when she finds out Snape has been helping you?” Harry asked sullenly.



Neville looked into his drink and shook his head. “She already knows,” he said reluctantly.



Harry blinked. “You are kidding...Really?”



“Really. Harry, come on. She\'s the bloody Assistant Secretary of Public Health and the Head of the Potions Research at St. Mungo\'s. She knows. She just doesn\'t care. For that matter, she isn\'t mad at you either.”



“Arrogant bitch,” Harry said with amusement, but without ire. “She probably thinks she\'ll still win, even with you two working together.”



“Fat chance of that,” Neville said smugly. “The Polyjuice formula is brilliant. It\'s unreal. You have no idea – it lasts fucking 48 hours, it\'s stable like the Pyramids, and it\'s absolutely bloody perfect. You actually physically FEEL like you are the other person, to the littlest detail. It\'s awesome. No, there will be no problem with getting the Silver Cross award. In fact, the only foreseeable problem is picking which batch of the potion is the best formula – they are all so damned good.” Severus smirked with self-satisfaction, listening to Neville\'s praise of the potion. Even though Neville was careful not to compliment him in front of Harry, or give him any credit, Severus still felt no small measure of conceit at the thought that it was him who had perfected and brewed the formula.



Harry eyed Severus grimly, noticed his smirk, and shook his head with disdain. His gaze then shifted back to Neville.



“Neville, it\'s nice to see you so excited about something again,” Harry said softly. “Maybe Potions research will agree with you after all.”



“Maybe,” Neville yawned. “Maybe eventually. Couldn\'t have done it without you though. I owe you one.”



Harry nodded. “No problem. Happy to. Good night, Neville.”



When Neville left by the Floo, Harry stared at Severus in amusement.



“Have something to say to me?” Harry taunted.



“Can\'t think of a thing,” Severus said contemptuously.



Harry walked softly, and came to stand in front of Severus, eying him thoughtfully. “You know, I can guess rather easily what is going through that petty, arrogant mind of yours. You think you deserve the award, the recognition, the fame. You wish that motherfucking Silver Cross award was yours to take home.”



Severus kept his expression absolutely impassive and neutral, and said nothing. There was no point denying it. His loss of standing in the scientific community, and knowledge that he could never get any recognition for any of his work, irked him more than the blood-quill scar, or the brand on his forehead.



Harry\'s lips formed a thin, angry line. “You... proud, vain, arrogant idiot. It amazes me that you still think you are entitled to something. You are nothing. And once you are gone, nobody will remember your name.”



Severus reminded himself that the feelings of grief and loss flooding him at the moment were irrational. Still, the heartache at hearing those words was absolutely real: it couldn\'t have hurt more to hear them, if Albus Dumbledore had said them himself. But Severus was not about to start wallowing in self-pity. He stared at Harry defiantly, his upper lip curling into a sneer:



“Not remember my name? I wouldn\'t count on that, Mr. Potter. I trust that Mr. Longbottom will remember my name quite well, whenever he\'s holding his Silver Cross award.”



Harry placed his hand on Severus\' shoulder and squeezed harshly.



“Arrogant git,” Harry whispered incredulously. “I think the couple of weeks in Neville\'s laboratory have to your head. You now fancy yourself to be better than everyone else again. I suppose I\'ll have to teach you a lesson in humility before you can be permitted go back.”



... To Be Continued...



Some answers to questions:



Q: Did Harry forget his King\'s Cross experience?

A: No, in this fic, he never had it.



Q: Does this story have a happy ending?

A: It\'s a surprise! If you are dying to know and can\'t keep reading unless you know, email me privately.