Ashes of Armageddon

The Sacred Gifts of Death



Severus awoke at what seemed like the middle of the night, from the sound of voices, Harry's and Neville's, arguing downstairs. Neville was begging tearfully:



“Harry, please, I swear – I'll owe you big. It's an absolute emergency!”



“Neville, it's fucking four in the morning on a SUNDAY.”



“I know! Harry, come on! Do you think it's MY idea to be awake at this hour? I got a Firecall from the lab. The overnight security guard said looks like the Polyjuice formula became unstable, some of the vials already exploded...”



“Can't it wait until Monday?” Harry asked unhappily. “Severus will fix it for you first thing Monday morning...”



“By Monday morning I may not have anything left to be fixed, other than the holes in the walls of my lab! Come on, Harry, be cool!”



“Fine,” Harry snapped. “Take him. He's in his room. By the way, he's rather banged up, so you might need to patch him up first.”



“Fine, whatever,” Neville said impatiently.



Severus sat up abruptly and reached for his clothing. Getting dressed turned out to be a nearly impossible task, as his blood-stained, swollen fingers absolutely refused to move. It took him a few minutes, but he finally managed everything, even buttoning up his robe.



“By the way, Neville,” Harry said coldly. “If you want me to continue loaning him out to you, don't squawk to Hermione about his injuries. Last thing I want is another ethical debate with her.”



“Gotcha. No squawking,” Neville said readily.



Harry chuckled. “What happened, anyway?” Harry asked. “I mean, I am no Potions Master, but how do you fucking EXPLODE a Polyjuice formula?”



“It's the accelerated brewing we've used,” Neville muttered. “The formula had to be stored in stasis for the next three weeks, ... until the natural maturation catches up with the... anyway, the point is, I may have forgotten to put a stasis spell on the ...” Neville's voice drifted off.



Harry snickered. “Brilliant, Neville. Now you have to brew everything all over again?”



Neville sniffled in absolute misery. “If it takes too long... can I keep him overnight?”



“I don't see why not.”



When Neville knocked on his door, Severus was ready to go. He was holding his brutalized hands in the pockets of his robe, hoping to avoid the questions and unwelcome sympathy for as long as possible.



Severus and Neville departed by Floo, and emerged in Neville's laboratory. Severus was not at all surprised to see the place in absolute order, just as he had left it, and all the vials secure and whole.



“Ingenious,” he said dryly. “You realize, you will never be able to use this excuse again?”



Neville nodded reluctantly.



“Just out of curiosity, what motivated you to drop by at this hour?” Severus asked idly. He barely recognized his own voice, it sounded distant and foreign, as if it had belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn't been driven past his breaking point by four vindictive people twenty years his junior.



Neville bowed his head. “Ron... well, he found out about Harry going psycho last night... George firecalled him at three in the morning, absolutely blind-drunk, and thinking that this was just the most amusing thing in the world...”



“Oh,” Severus said tiredly, as the dread at his humiliation being made public began to set in.



“Shall we go?” Neville asked. “My place?”



Severus nodded reluctantly. Truth be told, he did not particularly want to go anywhere – and if he could find a dark, secluded place, he could probably just hibernate for a few days, pretending that the events of the past 24 hours were nothing but a nightmare.



When they emerged in Neville's apartment, Neville let him borrow his wand, and pointed to the bathroom. “I have healing potions in the cabinet,” he said simply. “Just shout if you need any assistance.”



Severus nodded absently and retreated to tend to his injuries, not meeting Neville's eyes. He was briefly tempted to cast some sort of deadly spell on himself, or at least, Oblivating himself of the last 24 hours of his life – but then, grit his teeth defiantly, drank a full vial of calming draught, and proceeded to heal himself.



He emerged half an hour later, feeling physically well, and relaxed, thanks to the draught.



“Are you tired? Hungry?” Neville asked.



“Just a little tired,” Severus said peacefully.



He looked over Neville's apartment. It was a small one bedroom place. The minimalistic set up reminded him of Spinner's End, except, Neville had no bookshelves – and enormous stacks of books were piled on the floor right next to the walls.



Severus raised an eyebrow.



“Luna took bookshelves when she left,” Neville said with a slight smile, but without even a trace of resentment in his voice. “They were my grandmother's, but she was very fond of them. I let her take them.”



“Why did you break up with her?” Severus asked bluntly.



Neville shrugged. “We are just too different to be together. We don't understand each other. Don't see eye-to-eye.”



“Ah,” Severus said thoughtfully. “That is, indeed, a very good reason for dissolving a relationship.” He looked at Neville with a slight sneer that clearly indicated he was not buying it for a second.



Neville smiled slightly. “Well. I guess the bottom line was, I couldn't trust her. I mean, as soon as Ron, Hermione and I decided we were going to do something more than just sit and watch the Harry Potter train wreck, I knew I had to let Luna go. The way she is now, she'd likely run to Harry and tell him the moment she knew about our little conspiracy... I mean, maybe she wouldn't, I don't know, but I didn't want to take the chance.”



Severus nodded, and stretched himself on Neville's couch.



“G'night,” Neville mumbled, yawning, and retreated into the bedroom.



They woke up close to noon, ate, and used the Floo to go to Hermine's and Ron's. Hugo was with Hermione's parents for the weekend.



The four of them spent the day reading on Deathly Hallows, first on the Resurrection Stone, which turned out to be completely fruitless, then, the Elder Wand.



“If Harry weren't the Master of the Elder wand, life would be much easier,” Ron muttered. “Now, he's unstoppable...”



“Maybe we should just knock him out while he's asleep, next time he's over,” Hermione said humorlessly.



“That's actually not a bad idea,” Ron smirked. “You know what, let's do it.”



Hermione nodded seriously. “We need to plan this out some more, but let's keep it in mind.”



Neville smiled sadly, looking at Severus. “You know, when Voldemort was about to kill you, you should have just told him that wasn't necessary... that he could have just stunned you, or disarmed you, to become the Master of the Elder wand.”



“If only I had realized that at the time,” Severus said with a wry smirk.



“You hadn't,” Hermione murmured. “You thought yourself to be the Master of the Wand at the time, hadn't you?”



Severus nodded slightly. Fortunately, Voldemort had believed the same thing, serendipitously leaving Draco out of it entirely. And then, as more memories resurfaced, including the memory of him arguing with the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack, Severus found himself drowning in despair and humiliation, and unable to focus on anything else.



“Let's have some dinner,” Hermione said calmly, noticing the faint shadow of dread on his face. “I personally have had enough of the reading about the Sacred Gifts of Death. Tomorrow will be another day, and perhaps, we'll think of something else.”



They ate together, and then, retreated into the living room. Feeling drained physically and spent emotionally, Severus stretched himself on the couch, and with his eyes half-shut, watched the three friends sit down in the armchairs near the Floo and talk.



“Want to stay overnight?” Ron asked Neville.



“If you don't mind,” Neville sighed. “I am beginning to hate my place, I think.”



“You realize, you will need get new bookshelves eventually,” Hermione murmured.



“Nope,” Neville said stubbornly. “One day, all of this will be over, the world will go back to normal, Luna and I will get back together, and she'll bring my bookshelves back.”



“Gosh, this is so depressing,” Hermione murmured. “Ron, do something.”



“Like what?” Ron muttered.



"Sing something,” Neville said suddenly.



“Fuck off.”



“Come on,” Hermione pleaded. “Pretty please, Ron?”



“Yeah, pretty please, Ron?” Neville mocked, but in a good-natured way.



“Jerks,” Ron sighed with resignation, but then reached for the guitar, and allowed it to rest in his arms. With his eyes shut, he strummed the strings randomly.



"What do you want to hear?" he asked.



"Something good," Neville said.



"Something old," Hermione murmured. “Something old and beautiful.”



"I know just the song," Ron muttered. He flexed his fingers, and then, proceeded to play, until the melody everyone knew proceeded to flow.



"Oh no, Ron, please, not that one,” Hermione murmured.



Ron smirked unhappily, still playing. “Ya know, beggars can't be choosers, 'Mione.”



When Ron sang, his voice was surprisingly soft and clear:



Alas, my love, you do me wrong,

To cast me off discourteously.

For I have loved you well and long,

Delighting in your company.



Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady Greensleeves.



Your vows you've broken, like my heart,

Oh, why did you so enrapture me?

Now I remain in a world apart

But my heart remains in captivity.



Greensleeves was all my joy...



Severus shifted uncomfortably and shut his eyes. He hadn't cried in over twenty years, and was certainly not about to start bawling now, in view of three young people. Still, he discovered an odd, unwelcome stinging in his eye, and willed it away instantly.



I have been ready at your hand,

To grant whatever thou wouldst crave;,

I have both wagered life and land,

Your love and good-will for to have.



'Tis I will pray to God on high,

That thou my constancy mayst see,

And that yet once before I die,

Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.



Severus smirked unhappily, understanding why Hermione Granger had objected to the song instantly. He remained still, crossing his arms on his chest, deliberately banishing every bitter and agonizing thought from his mind, until there was nothing but clarity and calm in his awareness.



Ron placed the guitar on the stand abruptly. “Well, the Professor is asleep, and it's getting late. I'm off. G'nite, Neville.”



“Good night,” Neville said and apparently, went to the guest bedroom.



“'Mione, you coming?” Ron asked.



“In a few minutes,” she said, sniffling. “You are such a jerk, Ron. You couldn't have picked something less depressing?”



“Could have. Didn't.”



A moment later, Ron left as well.



Severus continued to lie on his back, with his eyes shut, breathing evenly. He heard Hermione stop by the couch.



“I know you are not sleeping,” she told him.



He did not dignify her with a response, or even by opening his eyes.



“Tell me something,” she said. “When you were begging Voldemort to let you go and bring Harry to him... would you have?”



Stubbornly, Severus kept his mouth shut.



"I want to know," she insisted. "What was the plan?"



“There was no plan,” Severus snapped. “Good night, Miss Granger.”



Hermione sniffled slightly. “You had thought yourself to be the true Master of the Elder wand,” she said with quiet sadness in her voice.



“I believe we've already established that,” Severus said tiredly. “But since I was wrong, it hardly matters, does it?”



"You were asking Voldemort to let you go, because you were planning to let Harry kill you," Hermione whispered dejectedly. "No... challenge him to a duel, and then, force him to kill you. So that he could become the Master of the Elder Wand... "



Severus turned to lie on his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow. With his eyes shut, he lay in the dark, praying for her to leave. But he heard no movement from her, at all. Still, he remained motionless and silent, intending to wait her out.



He finally heard a movement, as Hermione sat down on the floor next to the couch. He turned to his side and saw her sitting, hugging her legs, her face buried in her knees.



“You loved him,” Hermione said quietly. “Dumbledore was right. After all these years rescuing Harry, you've come to care for him. That's why your emotions are so strong... in addition to everything else, the slave-bond amplifies the pre-existing attachment and affection...”



He kept quiet, not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking. His entire face was burning with horrible shame. He had never felt so nauseous in his entire life. Even with all of his resolve, and years of self-control behind him, he could not bear to come to terms with the fact that the person to whom he would have given his life willingly, had now seized it, and twisted it into a horrible surreal nightmare, filled with degradation and agony; a nightmare from which there seemed to be no waking.



...To Be Continued....