Devils and Angels

I Answered Myself


Sunlight ruthlessly stabbed right through Harry's closed eyelids causing red pinpricks of pain upon his retinas, and he flung his arm upward to shield them. He quickly rolled over to fumble for his glasses inciting the bedsprings to complain with a loud squeak, and sliding them on, he lay there blinking in the glaringly bright light that streamed through the curtain-less and grim-encrusted window. He had to take a few moments to focus his mind and remember where he was at and why, and when it came back to him; he drew in a deep breath and wearily tossed back the bedding. His feet hit the floor with a dull thump, and for a second, he could have sworn he could smell the tempting aroma of tea, biscuits, and sausage wafting its way up the stairs from the kitchen.

Shaking his head, he muttered as he rose then staggered around the room trying to pull on his jeans. Since he was not really a morning person, his mental capacities were sluggish, and he tried to reason to himself, “Must be coming from somewhere else.”

With hair sticking up at odd angles and bleary green eyes barely cracked open, he stumbled into the tiny water-closet to relieve himself, and splash some water on his face to chase the last vestiges of sleep away. Positioning himself in front of the toilet, and cracking his eyes open again to make sure his aim was correct, he began to curse loudly.

“What the fuck….”

The porcelain was stained and had been shattered as there was an enormous fracture running from the rim to its base, and a foul odour lingered about it. As he turned his head to take in the rest of the room, he found the nearly ancient claw-footed tub had been removed leaving mangled and broken pipes hanging from the wall. Zipping himself, he reached out and experimentally twisted the fixtures over the sink, and the handle snapped off easily in his hand. He was not surprised to find that there was not a fount of water springing forth, and he angrily flung the handle to the floor in disgust.

He stopped short when he re-entered the bedroom, it was now daylight and he was fully awake, and he could see crudely worded muggle graffiti covering what was left of the walls. The plaster had been beaten from the boards in places, and great holes had been knocked through giving him a clear view of the upper hall on one side, and on the other, a meagre patch of overgrown, and heavily weeded yard in the back. Chunks of plaster, crumpled fish and chips wrappers, obviously used condoms, and various sorts of drug paraphernalia lay strewn in corners and along the baseboards. In disgust, he carefully made sure he didn’t step on anything, and he snatched on his shirt. Sitting on the bed, he was thrusting his feet into his well-worn trainers when he heard a slight noise from below.

Grabbing his wand, anger propelled him through the door, but precious words impressed upon him long ago by a certain Potions Master rose in his memory, and he remembered to keep his emotions under control. He stealthily moved down the stairs, and he paused with foot in mid-air. He looked down at the step he knew that always creaked noisily in protest, and he quickly cast a silencing charm. Reaching the bottom at last, and walking cautiously toward the cooking area, he nearly sprang a meter into the air when a hand touched his shoulder from behind.

“Gah!” He gasped and whirled around with his wand at the ready, only to face the kindly visage of Abergail Smuntz. Her clothing was different this time, but still was a frenzied mish-mash of colour. This time she wore a long skirt of wildly bright yellow that reached her ankles from which beneath peeked the toes of highly polished black hob-nailed boots. She wore an equally brilliant orange blouse, topped off with a light-weight violet sweater trimmed with lime green feathers, and perched on her head, was a dull brown pork-pie hat.

“What? Have I gotten so ol’ an’ ugly that I scare folks now?” The old woman asked in feigned insult.

“Abergail,” Harry said while clutching his chest with his free hand as if to make sure his heart didn’t burst through and go bouncing about the floor in fright. “What are you doing here? You nearly scared the shite out of me.”

“I’ve brought yer summat ter eat, and watch yer language young Mister Potter,” she said with mock fierceness.

Recovering somewhat, Harry managed a grin, “Sorry - thanks, but you really didn’t have to do that – I can manage.”

“O’ course yer can! But I used it as an excuse fer summat else,” she said, and suddenly changed the subject. “Now, there ain’ a drop o’ water about the place – an’ I’m sure from the racket yer made upstairs the facilities are ruint too, so you’ have ter use the ol’ common outhouse ter take care of yer business, and while yer doin’ that, I’ll fill yer a plate with a fine breakkie,” she stated as she shooed him to the back door.

When Harry returned, he found a small table had been set up in the small front room, two folding chairs parked next to it, and a steaming plate full of the foods he had smelled earlier, and his stomach growled loudly in expectation.

“Now yer just sit right down and tuck in like a good lad,” she said.

“Oh Merlin, that smells good,” Harry sat, and immediately began to shove forkfuls of food into his mouth.

Sitting opposite him, she watched with twinkling eyes for a few minutes. When she saw that he had nearly finished, her demeanour changed, and took on a more serious tone, “Now, like I told yer, I used the food as an excuse ter be here.” She paused to gather her thoughts then continued when she had his full attention.

She cocked her head listening intently then scanned the area as if looking for eavesdroppers standing in shadowy corners, or peering between the boards on the windows. She smoothly pulled her wand from her sleeve, and cast a silencing charm on the room so that others, should they be lurking about outside, would not hear anything she and Harry said.

“Harry, there was a break-in at The Hall o’ Whispers last night.” She looked steadily at him, and seeing his somewhat confused look, she quickly added, “Now mind yer, I shouldn’t even be tellin’ yer this as it’s not in the papers yet – if’n it ever will be.”

“What do you mean? What’s The Hall of Whispers?” Harry frowned.

Pursing her lips, her blue eyes sombre now, she answered, “The Hall o’ Whispers is a place where witches an’ wizards leave their written memories, thoughts, opinions, and even their Pensieves fer the benefit o’ generations ter come – an’ not jus’ any witch or wizard – well known ones; famous ones, an’ someone broke into it. They knew what they were doin’ too, an’ what they were after – an’ don’ ask me how I know all this.”

Harry’s face paled somewhat, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sayin’ two Death Eaters were caught last night there.” She jabbed her index finger into the table to emphasize her next words, “And everythin’ belongin’ ter Albus Dumbledore was stolen!”

“What!” Harry exclaimed as he slammed his fork down.

“Now calm down – calm down. Yer haven’ let me get ter me point. Aurors took ‘em in ter Ministry Headquarters, and dosed ‘em up with Veritaserum. They said Dumbledore’s memories were already gone when they got there, an’ this next is what’s goin’ ter interest yer. Somehow they knew Snape, an’ young Malfoy were goin’ ter be there, an’ the Death Eaters were sent ter catch ‘em, by You-Know-Who himself when he foun’ out!”

All colour drained from Harry’s face, which was made even more pale by his dark hair. “Severus was there?

“Yes, he was.”

“Do they know where he went?” He leaned forward, and searched her aged face as if the answer were etched among the wrinkles found there.

“No. All they said was that someone must’ve ‘elped ‘em escape.” Seeing the scowl on Harry’s face that told her he wanted to accost the nearest Ministry official, she said, “It won’t do no good ter go rushin’ off ter the Ministry. They won’t tell yer a single thing, an it’ll cause a heap o’ trouble.”

“I can’t just sit here, and not do anything!” He exclaimed loudly. “Why would Dumbledore’s memories be stolen, and why would Severus be looking for it, if there wasn’t something in them about that night? Why would Voldemort send Death Eaters after him if he thought Severus were loyal? I have to find who did it, and I have to get them back!” The questions rushed forth in rapid succession, with Harry barely taking a breath in between.

“If’n yer go off ter the Ministry and start pokin’ around there askin’ questions, I won’t be able ter help yer – not a whit; cause even as twitterfied as they are, they’ll put two an’ two tergether, and I’ll be sittin’ in Azkaban, and more’n likely you’ll wind up bein’ put safely away in a little padded room in St. Mungo’s ter keep yer quiet, and not a bleedin’ thing’ll be changed fer the better!”

Harry dropped his head into his hands, and remained silent for what seemed like an eternity before he asked, “If I can’t do anything, then what am I going to do?”

She leaned back into her chair and regarded him, “The firs’ thing yer goin’ ter do, is ter get this place whipped back inter shape – like it should be, an’ the second thing, yer goin’ ter place wards and charms around here. Yer have ter let me do what I do, an’ not be botherin’ about the workin’s o’ the Ministry, an’ let me handle it. Once yer get the ol’ house back ter rights, then yer can start concentratin’ on that li’l black book yer foun’ at the castle.”

Harry’s head shot up, his face filled with surprise. “How do you know about that?”

Abergail’s eyes suddenly began to twinkle rather ferociously, “A wee bird tol’ me.”

Seeing he wasn’t going to get a clear answer, he said, “I thought you just drove the Knight Bus.”

Rising to her feet, she started for the door. “That’s what me resume says.”

“But Abergail,” Harry quickly followed her, “Why are you helping me?”

With a sly look, and a knowing smile, she answered as she looked over her spectacles at him, “Yer a smart lad – figure it out.”

Before Harry could even think of a way to respond, she stepped off the stoop and onto the pavement, gave a wink, turned and apparated away leaving the young wizard behind. Wondering what she meant by that remark, and regardless of not getting all the answers he wanted, he did feel much better than he did when he first woke up. In fact, he felt much better than he had in a long time. He finally had someone on his side, other than the beleaguered Arthur and Molly Weasley, and this someone was obviously confident in themselves, and of their abilities.

Turning back to the seemingly infinite and hopeless mess that awaited him, Harry answered one of his own questions as he whisked out his wand and began spelling the debris into a single pile to be disposed of. “I know exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep loving Severus even more than ever, and may Merlin have mercy on anyone that tries to keep us from being together again – because I won’t have any.”

Nightfall came, and finally the house was cleared of all debris. The holes in the upper rooms were sealed for privacy, and the odour from the water closet banished: Harry decided he would see to the facilities the next day. The front door now hung correctly within its frame, and the windowpanes were repaired with the spell he had learned from Hermoine when he had first met the young witch. He had even improved upon it by making the glass unbreakable, and Harry finished by casting proper wards and charms to make the place impenetrable to intruders. He had stocked the kitchen with food, used an effortless charm on a cupboard to keep things cold, and prepared himself a simple dinner. He was tired, and finally felt he was beginning to accomplish something productive.

“Nox,” he whispered, and the single hanging candle went out. He wearily trudged up the stairs to bed.

Lying in bed, he managed to clear his brain of all thoughts but one, and that one caused sleep to evade him. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Severus and himself together just as they were the first time the older man had bedded him. His shank swelled and strained against his Y-fronts with long-neglected need for his lover’s attentions. It was bordering on the painful, and his hand crept downward and lightly brushed across it causing it to twitch expectantly.

“Gods, I wish you were here Severus, I need you so much,” he pleaded to the uncaring night as he slipped off his undergarments.

His swollen manhood sprang up proudly once it was freed, and Harry closed his eyes imagining his own hand that stroked it was his lover’s warm mouth. Lightly grasping his tool, he began to thrust his hips upward, and Harry hissed with pleasure at the mental image of his turgid shaft thrusting slowly in and out of Snape’s talented mouth, and his ebony eyes upturned to observe the bliss on the younger man’s face.

The vision seemed so vivid and real to Harry, it was almost as if he could reach out and physically touch Severus causing him to come quickly and violently. Harry continued to leisurely stroke, milking his essence out, and finally opened his eyes at last as he felt his hot seed spilling into his hand. Reaching for his wand, and flicking it, he cleaned himself, and he slowly rolled over to drift off to sleep. The edge had been taken off his physical need, but he wouldn’t feel satisfied until he could wrap himself, and his heart around the black-haired man, and never let him go.

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Well peeps, I know the last few paragraphs appear to be seemingly pointless, but they are as you will see in the next chapter. Enjoy, luvs!

Potions Mistress

Romance - the key that makes all things bearable...