Ashes of Armageddon

Author's Note:



Thank you all for your reviews !



So now as we have seen: Harry never had the King's Cross experience, so nobody has any idea about what happened, why he survived Voldemort's Killing Curse. Severus still thinks Dumbledore raised Harry to die, and ultimately, used Severus to send Harry to his death, and Harry just survived by pure luck. In spite of that, he is still feeling torment at the memory of killing Dumbledore. Harry thinks Severus was just fucking with his mind all along.







Chapter 3

Cruel Intetions





Severus opened his mouth to ask something else, but their time was cut short by a knock on the door. Hermione led him out and surrendered him to Harry, who, surprisingly, took Severus' hand in his, and led him throughout the hallways of Azkaban. Severus followed, without issuing a single word of protest, permitting himself to be led as a child.



When they exited from the enormous monolithic structure, and stood at the dock, the chill of the North Sea wind struck against them and Severus shivered involuntarily. However, Harry had no intention of waiting for a boat to take them back home. He had a port-key in his hands, and a brief minute later, they were standing, to Severus' surprise, in Godric's Hollow. After all these years, Severus thought with just a touch of dread.



Never releasing the grip on his hand, Harry led him to the two-story house that Severus recognized. It had been abandoned for years, after the deaths of James and Lily Potter, but no longer. Once inside, Harry took him on a tour, without saying a word. Severus followed him numbly. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms on the second floor. The first floor contained a den that had been converted into a study room, a moderately sized kitchen, a guest bathroom, and a dining room with a large rectangular table, a set of six chairs, and a fireplace.



“We will eat in about half an hour,” Harry said calmly. “First, you need to clean up. You smell absolutely repulsive.”



Severus nodded, not allowing the humiliation of those words to penetrate his awareness. Control yourself. Control. Control.



Harry led the way to the shower, and pointed inside. Severus entered, and saw a shower stall – without a curtain. When it became obvious that Harry had no intention of stepping out to permit him any dignity or privacy, Severus stripped off the prison robe, and laid it on the floor. He said nothing – protesting or pleading would only underscore his disgrace, and he had no urge to be degraded more than absolutely unavoidable.



He entered the stall, and turned the water on, allowing the pleasant warmth to envelop him. It felt shockingly, stunningly, mind-bogglingly good to shower – even in spite of the circumstances. The water ran down his face, rolled down his back, and he bowed his head, allowing his the hot streams to part his shoulder-length hair and rinse it out.



Memories of summers at Spinner's End resurfaced. Humid days, hot days, rainy days, stormy days, cloudy days, sunny days, days of playing together happily...



“You are a witch!”



“That's not a nice thing to say to anyone!”



“I am a wizard, too!”



“You are that Snape boy...”



The memory of Lily Evans – Lily Potter jolted him from the state of blissful reminiscing. Severus looked up, only to be met with the exact copy of Lily's eyes scrutinizing his naked body with dark disdain. The corner of Harry's mouth was twitching into a slightly contemptuous smirk.



The surreal horror of the moment shook him up to such extent that his knees buckled. He would have fallen, had there been space in the stall, but instead he only turned awkwardly and slammed into a shower wall. He steadied himself instantly, and turned the water off.



“What was that?” Harry inquired coolly.



“Nothing,” Severus said with absolute calm in his voice. “It was nothing.”



He dried himself off, and still naked, followed his new Master into a bedroom, where a set of surprisingly normal-looking clothes was laid out for him – a pair of shorts, a pair of dark trousers, and a simple cotton shirt. He got dressed under Harry's watchful eye, and sat down on the edge of the bed – his bed, he assumed.



Harry nodded to him slightly. “This is your room. Let me know if you want anything else in it.”



Severus surveyed the large bedroom with surprise. It had a double bed, a night stand, a walk-in closet, a bookcase, and a study desk with a chair. He should have been reassured by this – but instead, he found himself more nauseous than ever. The sudden glimpse of civility only served to drain his inner reserves further, and disorient him.



“Well,” Harry said unemotionally, seeing the look on his face. “Do you have any questions?”



“What do you want with me?” Severus asked, surprising himself.



Harry laughed without mirth. “You are forgetting something, Severus. It wasn't my idea to have you here. Although now that you are – I suppose there are some things I can do to make this ... experience worth my while.”



Severus looked up at him, almost forgetting how to breathe. The Master of the Three Deathly Hallows stared back, black fire in his eyes threatening to burst forth. The vulnerable, lanky, frail seventeen year old boy Severus remembered was long gone. Now, Harry stood almost as tall as Severus himself, except Harry's body muscular and built, indicating superior physical strength. His face had acquired a much sterner expression as well.



Quietly, Harry spoke: “You see, the Unbreakable Vow I took requires me to save your life. It makes no mention of me being ... nice.”



“No,” Severus murmured absently, more to himself than Harry. Harry smiled indulgently. “What do you intend to do with me?” Severus asked in spite of himself. He hadn't meant to – asking a question like that was too much like begging, but the tension had become unbearable, and the words fell off his lips of their own accord.



Harry closed the distance between them, and towered over him, as Severus still sat on the edge of the bed, not moving. Harry's hand was on his shoulder, and the young, cold voice whispered with intimate cruelty:



“I intend to punish you, Severus Snape. I intend to punish you for everything you have ever done wrong. I intend to punish you for the murder of my parents, and for the murder of Albus Dumbledore. I intend to punish you for taunting and harassing Sirius Black at the Headquarters of the Order, until you goaded him to rush to his death. I will punish you for ceasing Occlumency lessons with me because an ancient spat with my father was more important to you than enabling me to fight Voldemort and protect my friends. I will punish you for caring more about the motherfucking Whomping Willow than the students it nearly killed. I will punish you for making Remus Lupin lose his job. I will punish you for every time you bullied, taunted, harassed and berated me and my friends. I will punish you for every point you deducted from Gryffindor, fairly or unfairly. And I will punish you for everyone who had died in the war, while you were arguing with your Lord, begging him to let you go and fetch me, and bring me to him.”



Severus heard him out without flinching. “That's quite the list,” he said quietly. “I am not sure I will live long enough to accommodate your grandiose plans, Mr. Potter.”



Harry's hand squeezed his shoulder. “No,” Harry told him in a soft voice. “You won't. And that's why you should count yourself lucky.”



Severus nodded slightly and hugged his body with his arms. He felt a chill go down his spine.



“Well,” Harry said, his voice sounding oddly peaceful and tired. “Shall we go eat? It's time for dinner, and you must be hungry.”



Severus nodded again and stood up, following Harry into the dining room. Once there, Severus sat down, while Harry was setting the table, and flicking his wand, making food appear. The smell of food was almost maddening, but Severus sat patiently, waiting for permission to start eating.



“You can eat,” Harry said with amusement. “Don't be such a coward, Severus. You don't need to walk on eggshells, thinking that you'll be hurt for breach of protocol. I assure you, you will be hurt regardless.”



“I see,” Severus said indifferently. He stared at the food in front of him – a dish of rice, small pieces of chicken and vegetables on top. He could not bring himself to open his mouth and start eating.



“What?” Harry demanded, seeing that Severus had not moved.



“I have a request,” Severus said in a barely audible voice. “I want to ... know... who died on our side. During the war. Back in Azkaban, I made a request to see casualty lists, but ... was denied....”



“Of course,” Harry said. “Well, as you know the Dark Lord died, along with Nagini. Bellatrix Lestrange. Crabbe got himself killed, by his own stupidity.” Harry gave a few other names, including names of some of the Death Eaters. Severus listened impatiently.



“Mr. Potter!” he snapped finally. “I want to know who died on our side,” he repeated.



Harry gave him an odd look. “You want to know who died on the side of Light,” he corrected him.



“Yes. Please.”



“The answer is no,” Harry said coldly.



Severus felt a lump form in his throat. “Why not?” he whispered, already knowing what the answer was going to be.



“You don't deserve to know.”



Severus gazed down at his plate, unable to bring himself to move a muscle.



“Eat,” Harry said flatly.



For a few minutes, Severus sat in absolute silence. Harry was working on his own meal, ignoring him completely. And then, Severus bit his lip defiantly, as absolute, blinding, overpowering rage flooded him, making him through all caution and common sense to the wind. Severus stood up abruptly, grabbed his plate, and smashed it against the floor. It shattered with a satisfying sound, making the food scatter under the table, staining the hardwood floor.



At the table, across from him, Harry lifted his eyes and smiled.



... To Be Continued...