Pains and Contradictions

A/N: Thank you to everyone sticking with the story, both by reading and reviewing. I know (really) that it can be difficult when a WIP gets angsty, but I promise to make it all worth it and soon. If you'd like your name to be put on the update list, just shoot your email over in a review.

Thanks to WhiteCotton and thesewarmstars for a stellar beta and to Torina for looking the plot over. Air kisses go out to all the lovely ladies and Stephen at SeverusSighs.

*

"Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied." -- Pearl S. Buck

*

Exhausted, Severus Apparated just outside Hogsmeade. As the night's terror officially came to an end, his body gave one last shudder and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Looking up into the distance, he saw sanctuary backdropped by the rising sun, and though he wanted nothing more than to collapse in relief at the sight of it, he knew he wasn't on safe ground yet.

Pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders, he thrust his hands inside its warm folds before slowly making his way back to the castle. As he took care to notice his surroundings, he allowed himself briefly to marvel at the dawn and the way it cast Hogwarts into shadow against the brightening sky.

The night he'd endured had been filled with the unexpected, making Hogwarts a welcome respite and reminding him of the few times it had appeared in his dreams.

When he had left it, his mind had been so focused on Harry he hadn't spared a thought for the very real possibility that he might never see it again. Looking upon it now, Severus could honestly say he'd never been happier to be home in his life.

As he passed the wards guarding the grounds, his body began to unfurl, his muscles unwinding in gratitude, and he was suddenly exhausted. His body threatening a rebellion, he forced himself to walk briskly across the grounds, his steps only slowing as he looked up towards Gryffindor Tower.

Looking up at the windows, he felt a surge of relief through the bond and then a terrible anger. The last came in like a flood, and his body stiffened as he felt Harry's rage. He looked again, and though he knew he could see no one at this distance, he imagined he saw a tousled head of black hair in the window.

He lowered his face and thrust his hands deeper into his cloak, not allowing himself to think about Harry just now. He was safe in Lupin's rooms, where he would remain for the time being. Instead, he crossed the grounds quickly, reviewing what he had learned in his meeting with the Dark Lord and looking forward to disturbing Albus' sleep.

*

Harry stood at the window of Remus' rooms in Gryffindor Tower, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes scanning the grounds.

He knew it might be hours, if not days, before Severus returned, but every time he'd made an attempt to sit down or—at Remus' prompting—sleep, he'd found his mind wandering to Severus, whose quiet panic was not allowing his mind to rest.

He was alive, Harry knew. Alive and uninjured, and for that Harry was grateful. But as much as he knew he could trust the bond, trust it to tell him if something happened to Severus, he knew he would not be able to rest until he was home.

His heart had clenched inside his chest as he felt Severus' emotions rolling over him so powerfully he thought he would drown in them.

At first there had been a subdued panic, as though Severus were marching off to a battlefield from which he'd not return. Then there'd been confusion and an odd wariness, as though he could almost feel Severus' hand on his wand, ready to pick it up and fight at a second's notice.

Then there was a quiet, introspective sort of bewilderment and then fear. It was the fear, around three in the morning, that had frightened Harry the most. All the while he'd paced Remus' rooms in Gryffindor Tower, aimlessly but not able to keep still. There was nothing he could do but wait.

Remus had tried to stay awake, Harry knew he had, but as he told him with yawn that he was only going to close his eyes for a moment, Harry knew he'd be pacing the night alone.

That left him here, looking out the window into the dawn, scanning the grounds for any sight of Severus.

Then suddenly...

There.

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled a breath he'd been holding for hours. Severus was walking towards the castle, unharmed and whole. He felt the muscles in his shoulders unclench and his body relax for the first time all night and gave a soft sob of relief at witnessing Severus' quick, long stride cross the grounds towards the Entrance Hall.

He had expected that; expected to be glad to see Severus, relieved he was safe and home.

What he hadn't expected was the unchecked anger, the blinding rage that shortly followed.

Surprised at the sudden surge of fury, he lowered his head and clenched his fist as his anger coursed through him, as strong as the relief had felt just a moment before.

It took him a few minutes to understand what he was feeling, to truly comprehend the drastic change in his emotions. He looked down onto the grounds, watching Severus' long purposeful stride as he quickly made his way to the castle.

His breath coming in pants now, Harry closed his eyes and forced himself to calm, to think rationally and not allow his emotions to overcome him, especially when he had no idea why he was so angry.

He opened his eyes, just in time to watch as Severus looked up towards Gryffindor Tower. Though Harry knew he couldn't be seen from this height, he imagined that somehow their eyes were meeting and, in that moment, Harry realized something he should have known from the beginning.

Severus was never going to stop.

He was never going to forgive himself, never going to accept absolution from Harry or anyone else. He would never allow himself to put down his guilt, to give himself over to Harry and all the love he had to offer.

Harry was fighting for nothing: a dream of a future promised by entities he had never seen or fully understood, given to him by the memory of one night's passion, during which Severus hadn't even been in his right mind.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, barely noticing how cold he felt.

I am such a fool.

Anger gave way to resignation, Harry's body unwinding and his muscles going limp as strong emotions left him, leaving him feeling empty and exhausted.

"Harry?" Remus said with the sudden exhale of breath that comes from waking quickly.

"Over here," Harry said, still leaning against the windowsill.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry responded, not really concentrating on Remus. His eyes were still scanning the area Severus had walked. "Severus is back."

Remus sat up in his chair, seeming awake now at last. "Severus is—Oh, thank Merlin," he said, rubbing his eyes with relief. "Thank Merlin," he repeated and Harry knew he meant it, if not because he counted Severus as a friend, then for Harry's sake.

"Would you like to meet him in Dumbledore's office? I'm sure he's going there to report first."

Harry shook his head. No, he didn't want to talk to Severus now, didn't think he could stand to look at him feeling the way he was feeling.

"No," he said absently, then cast Tempus. It was half past seven. "I'm going to sleep. Quidditch is in a few hours."

"Quidditch—" Remus began to question, but cut himself off. "You're going to play?"

"Yeah," Harry said, looking around the room to see if he had left anything lying around; he hadn't. "No reason not to."

Giving him a speculative look, Remus rose from his chair and said, "Alright. You take the bed; I think I'm going to stay in this chair. More comfortable than it looks." Standing to remove his waistcoat, Remus quickly kicked off his shoes and then made to return to the position he had slept so peacefully in before.

"You rest in your own bed, Remus," Harry said starting for the door. "I'm going back to the dorms."

Remus turned to face him, his expression bewildered, and said, "You don't have to leave, Harry. You can stay for as long as you like."

Shaking his head, Harry opened the door to let himself out. "No, I can't. It's like you said—I need to be around my friends and not keep myself holed up here. It's not like it's doing any good anyway."

The words were still hanging in the air, the harshness of his tone and the reality of what he had just said only now coming to Harry. He turned around and saw Remus' face fall slightly.

"I didn't—"

"I know what you meant. Though–" Remus cut himself off as he looked over Harry's face, then his body, as he seemed to realize something was wrong, something new. "What's happened? What changed from the time I went to sleep until now?"

Harry looked at Remus, really looked at him, and knew he owed him an answer. Glancing behind him, he laid his eyes on the windowsill where he had kept a lookout all night for a man who cared nothing for his opinion, nothing for him.

At least not in a way that really mattered. Not even dropping to his knees had been enough for Severus...

He shook his head to be rid of the memories of last night, then looked up to address Remus.

His voice sounded solemn even to his own ears as he said, "He's not going to stop, is he, Remus?"

There was no need to clarify exactly whom Harry was talking about. They both knew what name lay between them, whose name was on both their lips.

A sad smile graced Remus' face as he looked at Harry, a heaviness in his eyes. "I really don't know. But I hope—"

"Don't patronize me," Harry said in a hiss, his anger bubbling up again. "Don't just tell me what you think I want to hear! After everything—after last night..." he trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm such an idiot, a goddamned fool, following around after someone who's made it very clear he wants nothing to do with me."

"But you haven't," Remus said quietly, his soft expression revealing what his actions did on a daily basis—his absolute affection for Harry. "You haven't been following after him and you certainly haven't been an idiot. You gave him his space, allowed him to think—"

"And a lot of good it did," Harry interrupted. "I was on my knees, Remus, on my fucking knees, and he still—" Harry tore his glasses off his face and lowered his head, humiliated by last night's behavior in the harsh light of day. "He's been very clear about...all of this..." Harry said, waving a hand around the room. "I've been the stupid one; I've been the one who wasn't listening."

Quietly, as though afraid of startling him, Remus began to speak very slowly. "I don't think that's true. I think you've done everything right and if you just hold out hope a little longer–"

"I'm sorry..." Harry cut Remus off, then stalled him with a hand. "I really don't want to hear about hope right now. Hope never did a damn thing for me."

"Harry..." he started to say, then seemed to realize there was nothing to be said, no comfort to be given.

Putting his glasses back on, Harry looked down towards the floor as he considered what it was he wanted to say. Finally, he looked up and said, "You know what's the difference between us, Remus?"

A shake of his head was Remus' only response.

"You were smart enough not to fall in love with your Severus."

Harry left before Remus could take his eyes off the floor.

*

"Tea?"

"Tea."

"Tea?" Dumbledore asked again. His shock would have been more amusing to Severus if he weren't so concerned about the strange emotions coming from Harry.

Concentrating on the conversation at hand, Severus responded again, "Tea." He cleared his throat and took a sip of his own brew, which Dumbledore had given him upon his arrival. If he'd seemed a bit surprised that Severus had actually accepted, he'd hidden it well. "And then brandy."

Dumbledore looked flummoxed and collapsed into his chair. Severus commiserated, his mind wandering as Dumbledore remained quiet, allowing Severus to review what he would and would not say in his report.

Of course, he really could understand Dumbledore's astonishment. After all, he truly hadn't expected Severus to return.

And though—despite what Harry might think—Severus did not have a death wish, he'd doubted his chance of survival as well.

It felt like far longer than nine hours since he'd stood in this office, fear coursing through him at the thought of his potential, even imminent death; far longer since Harry had been on his knees, begging him to stay. And yet there had been no question in his mind, no possible way he could have acquiesced to his demands; he'd had to go.

And he had, using all his control to keep his bodily movements fluid, his jaw unclenched and expression languid. It took every last ounce of his strength to keep up such a facade, but it was what was required of him if he was to survive.

He'd Apparated from Hogwarts, expecting to meet the Dark Lord's full company of Death Eaters, all of them lined up and ready for his arrival, just as they had been the last time he was called. He'd known the possibility existed that his role as a spy had been discovered and his breath stilled as he arrived to answer the summons. He stood outside the front doors of whichever Death Eater's house the Dark Lord was inhabiting now and went over his actions towards Harry in the last month. Had his gaze lingered too long during supper one evening? Or perhaps someone had seen him accost Draco before he'd put up his privacy sphere? Or had a student seen some stray glance he had cast, some slip of his control that had betrayed him to his death?

Whatever the nature of the meeting, he hoped it would provide some insight into the Dark Lord's plans, some instruction. Any shred of information that could be useful to the Order. Though he knew it was far more likely that he was called to report, he couldn't help the cold panic, the absolute terror that hit him as he opened the door to the house.

As he stepped into a dark room, he allowed himself to wonder whether Harry would feel pain if he died.

Pettigrew met him in a hallway and he forced himself to toss away any thoughts of Harry not directly linked to his mission; his fear reigned in and controlled.

He walked into a large, empty room, his steps pausing for only a moment before he continued. For an instant, he'd nearly panicked, nearly given himself away.

In all the different scenarios he'd imagined for this meeting—entering a room full of Death Eaters waiting to murder him among them—he had never expected this.

The Dark Lord was sitting in the room alone.

The lone chair sitting across from him made it clear that Severus was to be his only audience.

Carrying a tea tray, Pettigrew ushered him into the room and he found a cozy chair by the fire awaiting him, as though he were simply a guest of the home, not a servant being called upon. The Dark Lord sat in a very comfortable looking chair across from his own, and though he looked no more human than the last time Severus had seen him, his composure was calm and collected. He looked like any man might upon receiving a guest to his home.

Severus had also not expected to be asked about his health, general news from Hogwarts and his opinion on the state of Lucius' brandy. Though he could neither smell a potion in his tea, nor see any obvious trap or person hiding in the shadows, Severus remained wary and vigilant, expecting a heavy hand to fall any moment.

If someone had thought to look in on the conversation, they would simply appear to be two men having a polite discussion.

Instead, he sat for hours listening to the Dark Lord talk about the status of his Death Eaters, how he longed to be out on the raids and how tiresome Pettigrew's company had become.

Severus had tried to interject, to learn something about any forthcoming violence, but the Dark Lord steered him away from any conversation that would potentially lead to any new information.

It was only in the middle of the night that he'd finally asked about Severus' mission concerning Harry, but not as a master addressing a servant. Instead, it was done between sips of brandy, casually, as though he were asking Severus his opinion on the weather.

With practiced ease, Severus issued his report, his sneers and snide comments on Harry's lack of intelligence and breeding coming smoothly after years of practice.

The Dark Lord had only nodded his head and told him he'd heard similar reports of their fast friendship from his spies at Hogwarts. It seemed Draco had kept his end of the deal, after all. He sat and listened, laughing darkly if Severus said something particularly vicious about Harry and asking pertinent questions about his mental health. Was he still distraught over the loss of the blood traitor and did he seem even more despondent as he had in the last year?

Severus felt his throat clench momentarily as he realized what his answer had to be. Yes, the Dark Lord's blow to Harry's mental health had been successful and yes, he truly did seem to be only a shadow of what he once had been.

But the last time he'd thought on these answers, they hadn't been true. The last time he'd rehearsed this speech, Harry had been happy, with him, in the dungeons.

Still, he gave his report without missing a beat, the Dark Lord signaling to Pettigrew periodically to bring more brandy.

Sitting there in the Dark Lord's presence was far more difficult than standing in a circle of followers had ever been. He'd had to control his fear completely, which meant ignoring Harry's worry.

He'd smirked, laughed darkly and lifted an eyebrow at all the appropriate moments. And though he appeared outwardly relaxed, he'd half-expected an ambush all night. When it did not come, his fear did not disappear.

It multiplied.

Suddenly, something Dumbledore had been saying all summer became true to him. Sitting across from the Dark Lord, watching Pettigrew pour out liquor into crystal glassware, Severus knew without a doubt that the Dark Lord had gone completely insane.

"I must say I am relieved to see you, Severus," Dumbledore said, his relieved tone cutting into Severus' stream of thought. "Especially considering what happened last time."

Severus mumbled something under his breath and took another sip.

"But I am very surprised that the meeting went so well for you."

Severus frowned as a surge of some emotion he couldn't properly identify came through the bond, but he once again forced himself to concentrate on Dumbledore.

"I wouldn't say it went well, Albus. I may have returned unharmed, but that does not mean the meeting was a success."

With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore dismissed his words. "I expected nothing from your meeting, except your death. You are the only person who seems to think you're still trusted by Voldemort. In that respect, 'tea and then brandy' is very good news to me."

His frown growing deeper, Severus glared at Dumbledore before spitting out, "His actions towards me are not the actions of a sane man, Albus. One does not plan raids on Muggle towns and then discuss them over tea the following evening."

"No," Dumbledore said, with a small shake of his head. "No, one does not. But I have thought that Voldemort was losing his grip on his sanity for some time now. This is no news to me."

"He'd always been a sadist," Severus said into this teacup. "His current behavior, however, is...different. I believe he's gone completely mad, which doesn't bode well."

Dumbledore only shook his head in response.

They were silent for a moment, Severus weighing the events of the last few months in his mind as he tried to reason something from the madness.

Then, something broke through his meandering thoughts, some stray feeling that demanded his attention.

It was familiar, he knew, this niggling feeling in the back of his mind, some instinct that had kept him alive in the past; it began to eat away at him and he knew something was amiss.

"Has there been any sign? Anything, even the smallest news?" he asked, his tone betraying him in revealing his anxiety.

With a shake of his head, Dumbledore responded, "Nothing." He paused then said, "Not from any of our sources."

"Something's wrong," Severus said under his breath. The feeling grew stronger and he became uncharacteristically nervous. "Months without being called, and then I'm summoned...for tea."

"You said yourself that you'd been expecting to be called. The only thing that was unusual was the length of time between your summonses."

"Yes, but..." Severus trailed off as he tried to voice his suspicions, to put into words the terrible feeling he had building up inside him. He forced himself to ignore Dumbledore, his office and surroundings as he concentrated on the discomforting thought, the feeling, that wasn't coming from Harry. It almost seemed external, but that...

Then, as though a candle had been lit, Severus felt a whisper of a voice in his ear and recognized it instantly. He'd heard it several times before: the night he betrayed Lily to the Dark Lord, that day Lupin visited his potions lab, and, most especially, the night he had irrevocably bonded himself to Harry.

Suddenly, everything became clear to him as he recognized the faint whisper of Fate in his ear, clenching his fist in anger as he understood exactly what was happening and realized what needed to be done.

"Is the Slytherin match still on?" he asked with urgency, his body stiff with sudden dread.

Dumbledore frowned. "Yes. There's no reason for it to be otherwise."

"Cancel it," Severus demanded.

His frown only growing deeper, Dumbledore responded, "Why? You've just said you learned nothing."

Severus waved his hand, aiming for nonchalant, but failing miserably. "Call it an instinct, if you will, but something terrible is going to happen at the game."

Dumbledore furrowed his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not in the habit of canceling anything without a reason. Give me one, Severus. Any reason, and I will listen."

Severus shook his head, his hair swaying ridiculously, but he refused to give voice to his fears, refused to give any credence at all to any malevolent entity.

A questioning stare was aimed at him for a moment, then Dumbledore's eyes turned soft and sad. He smiled kindly at him and Severus knew that, for whatever reason, he would not be heard.

"Severus...after what happened last night here with Harry and then with Voldemort... It is natural that you would feel the need to protect him in any way you can. But canceling a Quidditch match is not going to resolve your problems. Only talking to Harry will do that."

Of course he would make assumptions, Severus inwardly grumbled as he considered how to explain himself.

"Albus, my...relationship with Harry has nothing to do—"

"After last night," Dumbledore repeated, "I would think that you would re-evaluate the way you've been treating him. For both your sakes, Severus. Perhaps you should think on what is really troubling you."

His heart beating like mad, Severus was only frustrated further by Harry's confusion and anger coming through the bond.

"Nothing is troubling me! I'm asking you to cancel the game and I fail to see why you will not do it."

"Because you cannot always get your way, Severus," Dumbledore said, all the kindness now gone from his voice. "Go to Harry before the game. Speak to him, truly speak to him, and see if there's a way to salvage your relationship."

Severus brought up a hand to run through his hair before—annoyed—he realized he was mimicking Harry, then brought it down again.

"You're not listening—"

"No," Dumbledore said sternly. "I'm not. There is no reason to cancel the game and Hogwarts is well warded. I've placed additional wards around the castle in the last few weeks that make it virtually impenetrable. Nothing is going to happen, Severus."

But Severus no longer heard Dumbledore. Instead, he was thinking of Harry, of the odd emotions running through him and how Severus knew something terrible was upon him.

"Tell Harry he can't play then. Remove him from the game," Severus pleaded.

His tone quickly going from stern to angry, Dumbledore said, "I will do no such thing. If Harry wishes to play, he'll play. You've taken enough from him, Severus. I'm surprised you would try to do such a thing."

Realizing he would not get what he needed from Dumbledore, Severus rose from his chair and made to leave the room, his steps large and hurried.

"When are you going to stop this, Severus?" Dumbledore called out as Severus opened the door.

But Severus didn't bother answering, not with Harry in danger. Knowing what needed to be done, he raced down the steps and out the door, resolving to do anything it would take to get Harry out of that game.

*

Sweeping into this rooms, Severus quickly grabbed a handful of Floo powder, tossed it in and cried out, "Remus Lupin's rooms, Hogwarts!" before sticking his head into the flames.

Turning his head in a desperate attempt to find Harry, Severus made out only a person in a tattered pair of pants and faded socks sitting in the armchair near the fire.

"Lupin!" he roared, too distraught to take any pleasure from the resulting jump as Lupin quickly woke from his sleep.

"Severus?" he questioned, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Has something happened?" he asked in a daze, and it seemed wrong to Severus that he was so calm.

"Where's Harry?" he asked, his eyes frantically searching the room, and considering going through uninvited before he realized seeing Harry now might not be to best idea.

"He's gone back to the dorm, but he should be up for breakfast soon. Why, what's happened?" Remus repeated, anxiety finally beginning to creep into his tone.

"Nothing," Severus said quickly, in no way eager to share his suspicions with Lupin. He weighed exactly how he should tell him about what he knew—what he felt was going to happen—but came up with nothing. There was simply no way to explain what he knew without completely embarrassing himself. Abandoning all pretense, he decided to tell Lupin what needed to be done.

"You have to tell Harry he can't play today."

Lupin's face instantly transformed from its usual calm to something suspicious and alert, as though the barked order reminded him there were no easy Saturday mornings for men such as they. "Why? What's happened, Severus? What have you learned?"

Breathing so hard the ash was threatening to blow upwards into his face, Severus clenched his teeth and said in a hiss, "I have reason to believe that something terrible will happen at the game today. You must tell Harry he cannot play."

"But what—"

"We are wasting time!" Severus yelled, his patience running out. His breath was coming in pants and the ash on the floor of the fireplace was beginning to make his eyes water. "Find Potter and tell him it is of the utmost importance that he not play today or I swear, Lupin, I'll–"

"You'll what, Severus? Be forced to speak with Harry yourself?" Lupin said, his face darkening. "I'm not sure I would do that right now if I were you. He's...in a very odd place. I'm not sure if you know this—"

"Lupin!" Severus interrupted. He failed to understand why no one was listening to him, even if his suspicions appeared to be unfounded. Was it not enough that he, a spy, who had been subjected to years of the Dark Lord's whims, thought it unwise for Harry to expose himself to a stadium of people? "Find Potter and tell him he cannot play! What will I be forced to do to get this through that thick, wolf-infected skull of yours?"

His face straight except for a twitch of his lip, Lupin stood to leave his sitting room. "Goodbye, Severus."

"No, wait, Lupin!"

"You want to speak to him so badly? If your message is so important, you can find him yourself. Goodbye, Severus," he repeated.

"Lupin!" Severus cried, desperate now, desperate for his message to reach Harry in time. "Please, Lupin. Something terrible is going to happen. I can't explain how I know, but I swear this is not for me."

Lupin turned around and faced the Floo, his eyes searching Severus' face, which he knew must be twisted and filthy. A long minute passed between them before Severus watched Lupin acquiesce, his features softening as they always did when Harry was concerned.

"I think Harry needed the distraction of Quidditch, but... Not at the cost of his safety," he finally said.

Severus let out a breath of relief. "Yes. Thank you," he said softly. "I have to prepare—" he cut himself off as he realized he wasn't entirely sure what he was preparing himself for, only that something was going to happen. He settled for giving Lupin a quick nod and said, "I'll see you both at breakfast."

Lupin nodded, and Severus stood up in the Floo, ending the connection. Though he was sure Harry would listen to Lupin, he didn't relax in the least. He knew if the Dark Lord was to attack the school, the attack would center around Harry. That meant if he was in the castle, the rest of the students would be safe.

Not willing to take any chances, Severus dashed up to breakfast to assure himself of Harry's acquiescence, his steps hurried and desperate.

*

"Tell him I said to sod off," Harry said into his eggs as Remus relayed Severus' message over breakfast. "I don't give a damn what he thinks."

Remus knew that was a lie, but said nothing.

"Harry, if Severus has reason to believe—"

"Severus is being a bastard. If there were any danger, Dumbledore would've canceled the game," Harry muttered under his breath, while Hermione cast surreptitious looks over her shoulder. "I'm done, Remus. I'm done listening to any fucking thing he has to say."

And just like that, he stood up and walked quickly to the doors, his stride long and purposeful, his intention clear.

Remus' eyes left him and flew up to the Head Table, meeting Severus'. His face was straight and his body language relaxed, but his eyes betrayed him; he knew exactly what had just happened.

Sitting down with the Gryffindors to eat his breakfast, Remus watched as Severus left the Great Hall a few moments later, flowing black robes seen swiftly crossing the room from the corner of his eye.

*

Severus didn't make it a habit to lurk under the Quidditch Pitch stands, yet there he stood looming in the shadows, waiting for Harry. From this vantage, he was able to keep an eye on parts of the pitch that were not watched by the faculty and so he kept his eyes open, half watching for Harry and half waiting for some sign of what was to come.

Finally, he heard the announcer give the call for the players to go onto the field and the students in the stands began to cheer. He was directly under the Gryffindor stand and he ducked farther into the shadows as he saw the team come out.

Harry was the last in a long line of his teammates, his eyes on the floor and his face despondent. Although he looked morose, Severus knew there was an anger brewing inside him and, though he knew Harry had plenty to be angry about, he admitted he had no idea what had him so troubled.

Not that it mattered at the moment. No, all that mattered right now was keeping Harry off the pitch.

"Harry," Severus said quietly, gaining his attention as the last of his teammates walked into the sunlight.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his body stiffening instantly.

Rage

Desperation

Confusion

Severus pushed aside the feelings coming through the bond and he walked quickly towards Harry, coming into his line of sight to better address him.

"Harry, listen to me," he said in a low voice. "You can't go out there—"

"Fuck off."

Severus stiffened, surprised by the darkness of Harry's tone, the words coming at him like a slap in the face. If this were any other person, he would either take points or feign indifference before offering some scathing retort, but the fact that this came from Harry...

"Right," Harry said, taking another step to catch up with the rest of his team.

"Wait!" Severus said, forcing himself to move when his confusion and hurt would've had him standing in shock for far longer. "Listen to me. You have every right to be angry, but what I have to tell you has nothing to do with you and me."

Harry closed his eyes and clenched his fist around his broom, the quiet stretching out, giving Severus a chance to speak.

"Harry, the Dark Lord—"

"Is there going to be an attack?" Harry interrupted.

The frankness of the question startled Severus, and he thought on what he knew, what he had learned. To say yes would not necessarily be a lie and he needed Harry off the pitch. "Yes," he answered, trying to keep a reign on his emotions.

Harry closed his eyes then bit his lip and shook his head.

"Liar," he hissed. "Doesn't work very well for either us, this bond, does it? You can't lie to me and I can't get you out of my head."

Cursing Fate, Severus held up a hand, needing Harry to hear him out.

"I am not exactly sure when the attack will take place, but I have a terrible feeling—"

"You have a feeling?" Harry repeated in an exasperated tone.

Severus held his tongue when he wanted nothing more than to snap at Harry for being so foolish. Why did he choose now to ignore Severus?

"I know you are angry and you have every right to be–"

"Oh, do I?" Harry said snidely, his face twisted in anger as Severus had never seen before. "Well, thank you. Thank you for giving me permission. Now if you don't mind, I have a game to play."

Grabbing his arm, Severus moved to physically restrain him from going onto the pitch, Harry's face turning downwards to take in the hand on his forearm.

"Harry, listen to me! I don't care if you're angry with me, you cannot play today. Something terrible is going to happen–"

"Shut up!" Harry yelled. "Just shut up! I don't want to listen to another word from you. Not one more fucking..." he trailed off and Severus felt a terrible hurt come from the bond, leaving him with an overwhelming desire to comfort Harry, yet knowing that was something he couldn't do.

"You wanted me gone," Harry said in a harsh whisper. "You wanted me to move on, to forget about you," he said while glaring at Severus, his features twisted in pain. "Fine. I'm through. Are you happy now? I'm done."

All the breath left Severus' body as he took in Harry's words. An icy chill crept down his spine and he swore he had never felt his heart ache like it did now. Harry's face fell, and he knew he was feeling what Severus felt, and he looked down. When he looked up again, it was with a renewed determination, as though he was forcing himself to say the words.

"I can't do this anymore," Harry whispered. "You might think it, but I'm not a fool—"

"I've never thought you were a fool," Severus responded, the niggling feeling in the back of his mind beginning to prod him again, reminding him of his task. He had no idea what to tell Harry, the pain in his heart overwhelming all logic.

This is what he'd wanted all along, after all. He'd wanted Harry to move on, to leave him behind. But faced with the reality of it...

His thoughts were cut off as a whisper played by his ear, forcing his mind back to reality. "You can't play today. Something..." but he trailed off, hardly able to speak to Harry when he was looking at him this way—his eyes desperate and face twisted.

"Is that all you can say?" Harry asked with a gasp, then waved himself off. "Forget it. I don't want to hear what you have to say."

"Harry, this has nothing to do with me."

"You're lying!" Harry screamed before forcing himself to calm, taking deep, heaving breaths as the silence stretched out. "I don't care," he said, his voice suddenly sounding small, his body turned in on itself. "I would have waited...followed after you like some...dog," he said in a hiss, shaking his head. "Forever. But I'm not the idiot you think I am." And with that he turned to walk onto the pitch.

Severus watched him go for a moment, feeling as though his heart was leaving with him, as though all the light was walking away from him, never to be seen again. Seeing him approach the pitch, he remembered what he needed to do and rushed to catch up with him, his hand once again clutching Harry's arm, but Harry yanked it away.

"Fuck off!"

"Harry—"

"No!" he shouted and moved to go onto the field again.

Having no idea what else to do, Severus lifted his wand, and silently cast Incarcerous, regretting it in the same instant he did it.

He had trained Harry well in the summer months, but not well enough to deflect a spell wandlessly, with his back turned. He spun around at the very last instant, Severus moving to anticipate his fall, but the spell just bounced off him.

Oh.

Severus closed his eyes and cursed Fate. In addition to protecting themselves from each other, it seemed the bond wouldn't allow him to bind Harry against his will.

"You're pathetic," Harry said harshly, but his features betrayed him. It was clear what he thought of Severus' supposed treachery, a terrible pain radiating through the bond.

For a moment, Severus contemplated physically wresting Harry to the ground, but realized that after the night he'd just had, Harry might have the upper hand. A curse upon his lips, he watched Harry leave the shadow of the stands and walk into the sunlight, his eyes on the floor and his shoulders slumped.

Resigning himself to be prepared for what was coming, Severus quickly walked around to the teacher's box, cursing himself for feeling pain at finally getting what he had wanted all along.

*

Gritting his teeth, Harry took to the field, both teams lined up waiting for him to begin the game.

"Any time you're ready, Potter!" Madam Hooch cried as he approached. His mind was hardly on the game, his movements automatic as he stepped into his place with his team, his mind on Severus and exactly how far he was willing to go in his lies.

Suddenly, a shadow moved into the sunlight, cutting across Harry's field of vision.

"You ready for me, Potter?"

Harry looked up and met Malfoy's eyes for the first time in over a month, his expression full of hatred and loathing. Whatever fear he'd acquired from Severus' death threats seemed to have faded, his face twisted in a sinister sneer.

Harry ignored Malfoy and looked toward the teacher's stand, Severus sitting next to Dumbledore, Remus on the bench below him. He forced himself to look away, to stop thinking of Severus, if only for the time spent playing the game.

Please, just let me forget for a little while.

The whistle blew and Harry took off, forcing himself to fall into the familiar pattern of looking out for the Snitch, his eyes only occasionally betraying him as they drifted towards Severus.

Scanning the skies, he saw no sign of it and began flying around the other players with his eyes peeled when suddenly he was nearly thrown from his broom.

Malfoy had crashed into him and with the Snitch nowhere in sight, Harry knew there couldn't even be a feigned reason. He thought he might have heard Hooch cry out something, but he couldn't make it out. Not wanting to be a sitting target, he began to fly faster, forcing himself not to simply hex Malfoy off his broom and save himself the trouble.

A moment later he saw a shimmer of gold and took off in a flash after it, eager to get his mind into the game and off Malfoy and Severus, who Harry saw watching him from the stands.

Predictably, as soon as he had turned after the Snitch, Malfoy came crashing into his broom again, but unlike previous years, he didn't simply seem to want to beat Harry to the Snitch.

No, winning the game hardly seemed important to Malfoy—his main goal seemed to be throwing Harry off his broom.

Pushing, he shouldered Malfoy away from him and took off in another direction, the Snitch long gone by now. Malfoy simply flew after him, his broom colliding again with Harry's own, trying his hardest to push him off.

He could hear the announcer's voice screaming something against the wind, but Harry paid it no mind.

Harry took out his wand, a hex ready on his lips, when suddenly he realized how high up they were. Not wanting Malfoy dead, no matter how tempting it might be, Harry refrained from casting a spell, instead taking a sharp dive to escape the attack.

Malfoy was several broom lengths behind him when suddenly he saw spell light pass him by and turned around to see exactly what was happening.

Eyes wide, Harry removed his wand just in time to defend himself against Malfoy's attack.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell Malfoy shouted was lost to the wind, but Harry saw spell light come towards him and dodged it, taking a sharp dive with his broom.

Panic

Dread

Fear

Harry pushed Severus' emotions away from him and aimed his broom higher, trying his hardest to get away from Malfoy before either of them could kill the other. He was high above the Pitch now, with Malfoy no longer in sight.

Taking a breath, Harry hovered for a moment and looked for Malfoy among the Slytherin players but couldn't find him. His eyes scanned the Pitch below him and then the skies around him, ready for an attack.

Severus had been worried before, but suddenly Harry felt a cold dread pass through him and he knew something was wrong, something far greater than Malfoy with a grudge.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something black on the horizon.

Turning his head, his eyes went wide as he felt his heart drop.

There, coming right towards him, was a team of Death Eaters and in the center—

"Ah!" he cried out and gripped his head pointlessly as sharp pain erupted in his scar and he struggled to stay on his broom. For a moment, he thought he felt Severus protect his mind as he had that night with Dumbledore down in the dungeons.

But whatever attempt he made to stand between Harry and Voldemort was barely working, numbing the pain only enough for Harry to open his eyes and see the figures coming closer, red eyes focusing on him.

Panicked now, Harry winced and tried to ignore the pain, tried to allow Severus to do whatever he needed so he could still function enough for him to keep his eyes open and his mind clear. He knew what he had to do.

His mind only on his friends and Severus, he turned his broom around and began to lead Voldemort and the Death Eaters away from the Pitch. It was him they wanted, and no one else was going to die in the crossfire. Not if he could help it.

*

Remus watched as Harry ascended to the sky on his broom, and heard Severus telling Dumbledore to end the game now while there was still a chance. He slowly stood up as he kept his eyes on Harry, looking where he was looking.

There, coming from the direction of the Forbidden Forest...

"My God–Severus!" he cried, pointing to a dozen figures in black cloaks.

"Merlin forgive me," he heard Dumbledore cry before he cast Sonorous. "All teachers get the students back inside the castle!"

The students and faculty had finally taken notice of what was happening in the sky and the crowd erupted into panicked screams. Remus heard the frightened high-pitched cry of the younger students as the older years began to flee, many of them trying to grab the younger ones as they ran.

Severus was already standing next to him, eyes flashing from him to Harry. Suddenly, his collar was seized and Severus was screaming, "Get the Slytherins inside!"

Remus tried to tear himself from Severus' grip, but was unable, his hands clenched around his collar for dear life, his concern for the students raging but his main concern Harry.

"But Harry–"

"I will help Harry, you get my students to safety!" And with that he released Remus and began to run down the steps of the teacher's box, his eyes never leaving the sky.

Remus forced himself to look away and began his run towards the Slytherin stand. "Mr. Zabini!" he cried, finally recognizing someone who wasn't directly related to a Death Eater. "Help me get the students inside!"

*

Dumbledore took in the panicked crowd of students and parents, all fleeing towards the castle and ran with Severus to help Harry. His mind was examining the situation, trying to think of the best way to come to Harry's aid, and all the while wondering how this was possible. How had Death Eaters managed to trespass into Hogwarts?

He pushed aside his concerns when he spied brooms littering the floor where students had dropped them as they fled.

Quickly summoning two of them, he turned his eyes back to the skies, realizing that there were no Death Eaters on the ground, and not one of them had fired a spell at any of the children or the teachers. The violence was completely confined to the sky, and while Dumbledore feared for his safety, he realized Harry was deliberately keeping them away from the students.

And at risk to his own life.

Mounting their brooms, they took to the sky, but not before Dumbledore put a hand on Severus' arm to ask the most pressing question.

"The bond—"

But the panicked look on Severus' face stopped him and he realized that his worst fears were coming true. The bond had not been matured and Severus was no better able to help Harry now than he had been that first day in the dungeons.

With a shake of his head, Severus confirmed this, his face pale and torn with dread. As they took off after Voldemort and the Death Eaters, Dumbledore realized they were both to blame for what was happening.

But it was much too late for regret, he thought as the wind screamed past him, errant spells flying past his head. There was nothing to be done now.

A curse on his lips, he removed his wand from his sleeve.

*

Severus was hardly able to think in his panic. The wind was tossing his hair into his face and making it impossible to hear what spells were being cast at Harry; there was no way to shield him, no way to protect him.

With a burst of speed, Dumbledore flew by him, shouting a spell that knocked two Death Eaters off their brooms, bringing them closer to the Dark Lord.

Gritting his teeth, Severus flew closer, taking aim and casting the Killing Curse at him, praying his attempt would not be as futile as he thought it would be.

His thoughts only on protecting Harry, he cast the killing curse again, then again, knocking one Death Eater from his broom, Severus then slipped into the fallen man's place.

Enraged with a fevered panic, Severus thrust an elbow at the closest Death Eater in an attempt to rid the Dark Lord of his guard in any way he could. The hooded Death Eater seemed unprepared for such an attack and Severus threw him off his broom, nearly losing his own grip as he tried to take Severus with him.

Turning his head to look for Harry, Severus saw Dumbledore approach the Dark Lord. Though he wanted to be the one to help Harry, Dumbledore was closer, and he knew it would fall to him to handle the remaining Death Eaters instead.

Suddenly, the world faded away as he felt a terrible strain upon himself and all the breath left his body. He felt Harry cry out for him, felt the bond pull at him, the ties that bound them together tugging at him desperately as it never had before, but it would not give. Severus had no idea what had happened, but he used all his strength to lend anything he could to Harry, and cried out as he felt him dwindle to almost nothing. As though he could literally feel Harry slipping away, he grabbed on tighter, hoping, praying for it to be enough.

He had no idea whether or not he succeeded and could do nothing as he felt Harry cry out in pain, the echo of it causing Severus to seize as the Death Eaters broke away to defend the Dark Lord.

Like an almost audible cry, he heard Harry beg for his help, the bond screaming at him to lend his powers to Harry, but he was unable. The bond wasn't strong enough.

He looked forward and watched the aftermath of what he had felt happen. Voldemort and the remaining Death Eaters were flying away, while Dumbledore had pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry.

Severus' body went stiff as he looked on, seeing how Harry sat limply on his broom, one arm hooked around the handle and his legs dangling. Then, to Severus' utter horror, Harry slid slightly, his head bobbing, before falling from the sky.

Severus' soul went with him.