A Promise

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money in writing this. ALSO, some of the dialogue from the end of the chapter was inspired by the last episode of the second season of Grey's Anatomy.

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Chapter 3

At Hogwarts castle, Albus Dumbledore had just ended his fire-call with Kingsley Shacklebolt. He did not see his surroundings; the overwhelming grief gripping his heart was too much to bear. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses were sombre and silent, knowing how much the old wizard had cared about Severus Snape.

Albus took a few minutes to collect himself, his face wet with tears and his body trembling with his anguish. He had wondered where Severus had gone. The wards of the castle had told him that his Potions Master had returned last night after his meeting with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and so it had confused him that Severus hadn’t been in the castle this morning. The wards had not alerted him to the other man leaving, and so he had wondered where he could possibly be. Now he knew. Merlin, Severus, I’m sorry.

After he had indulged far too long in self-recrimination for his tastes, he wiped his face carefully. He knew that he would have to call an Order meeting for tonight, as they would have to strategize what this latest blow would mean to their war efforts. It would also be a time to mourn the loss of yet another valued member of their organization and a man who Albus had come to see as a son. And of course, there was this new and unexpected business about Harry...

“How? How did they hide it from everyone? By all accounts, no one has heard or seen anything of the sort between them. But how did they do it?” Albus asked the room in general.

He had thought Severus to be one of his closest friends and confidants, as he was the same to the other man. He had thought that they were close enough by now that Severus would have told him; or Harry would have, for that matter. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Severus is—was a Death Eater. If Voldemort had known, or even suspected...it did not bear thinking what would have occurred. Although hadn’t the worst already happened? Severus was dead.

Shaking himself from these maudlin thoughts, Albus knew that he should call a staff meeting immediately. First, he used the magical object that the Order used to communicate the time and date of gatherings. He wrote on the tablet that would let every Order member know that they were required to meet tonight at the usual time. It had been Hermione Granger-Weasley’s idea to use a communication device such as the tablet, in case a message needed to be sent or a meeting needed to be called.

Tempting though it was to sit in his office and wallow in his whirling thoughts, Albus knew that he would only end up back where he started. He spent a few minutes thinking over the few interactions he had seen between Harry and Severus over the past few years, trying to discern some sort of clue as to how and why their affair had begun. However, the desire to let the entire school know what had transpired eventually won out, and so with a heavy heart, he magnified his voice to be heard throughout the castle and grounds and uttered the words that would lead to one of the most difficult days of his life:

“Attention, staff, students, and ghosts. This is Headmaster Dumbledore speaking. I realize that this is highly unorthodox, however I beg of you to have some patience with me. I would appreciate it if the staff could please round up their students and have everyone meet in the Great Hall in fifteen minutes. Prefects, if you are outside of your classrooms, I ask that you ensure that all of the charges within your Houses come to the Great Hall as well. Thank you, that is all.”

Albus cancelled the Sonorus with a small wave of his wand and sighed once again, his eyes feeling the strain after his tears. Fawkes was looking at him with some emotion resembling pity, which only made the tears return to swim in his eyes. He heaved a deep breath in before he could get too lost, and went to stroke the phoenix’s feathers as it let out a soft, sad trill.

“I know, dear friend. I know. I will miss him very much,” Albus muttered, still stroking the fiery plumage. And with another sigh, “Shall we?”

Fawkes hopped onto his master’s shoulder, nudging his beak against the old man’s cheek in a gesture of comfort. Albus patted the beautiful creature’s head before setting off for the Great Hall. It had become oppressive in his circular office, the place where he had learned the truth of so many deaths. He wanted to walk to the Great Hall to clear his head as well as to think of something to say to his staff and students.

He was not deluded in thinking that people would be terribly upset at first; at least, those who hated the Potions Master. But for those who knew Severus, who knew the man behind the mask...It would be a difficult day.

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Kingsley breathed an audible sigh of relief upon seeing Ron and Arthur Weasley step out of one of the Ministry lifts with Henry Patton. Harry had quieted and was otherwise unresponsive; unless he was touched, in which case he would begin screaming again. Kingsley had no idea what to do and was just praying that familiar faces would be able to help Harry out of his state. He hurried over to the two Weasley men before they could come around the fountain and see Harry and Severus.

“Thank you both for coming here so quickly. Has Henry briefed you on the specifics?”

“No, sir. I only told them that the Professor is dead and that it has something to do with Harry,” Patton spoke up before either of the Weasleys could.

“Thank you, Auror Patton. Please go and help the other apprentices secure the atrium. I don’t want a single person in or out of this building, is that understood? The last thing we need right now is the press breathing down our necks,” Kingsley muttered, rubbing a hand over his bald head in a clear sign of stress.

“Yes, sir.”

“Kingsley, what’s going on? What’s Harry got to do with Snape being dead?” Ron asked, now genuinely worried.

Kingsley sighed, not knowing at all where to begin.

“First, Ron, I have to ask you...did Harry ever talk about Severus to you or Hermione? You are his closest friends, so I figured if he would have told anyone, it would have been you two.”

“Well, not really, no. I mean, there was the occasional reminiscing about school and how different he was after not being in his class for a few years, but that was mostly Hermione talking. Harry didn’t talk about Snape at all. Why? What’s this about?”

“It appears...well, it looks like Harry and Severus were much closer than any of us knew,” Kingsley stuttered, unsure of how to explain beyond just showing them.

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Harry was dreaming; it was a pleasant dream. Just images flashing before his eyes, pictures of his life, his friends, his adoptive family...of Severus. For some reason, that name hurt to even think, although the images seemed harmless enough. Flashes of Severus and him laying in bed together; the two of them smiling and laughing at some private joke; kissing Severus; holding hands as they walked down a street in Muggle Paris under heavy glamour spells; Severus chasing him down another Muggle street, wanting revenge for the ice cream Harry had painted across his face; Severus, waking him up with breakfast in bed; Severus just waking, smiling languidly at Harry while he stretched; Severus, laughing softly; Severus, Severus, Severus...

Harry made a high keening noise in his distress, the truth coming to bear in his mind again. Severus was dead. Harry was lying on the Ministry of Magic’s atrium floor, clutching the body of the man he had loved for the past three years. The man who would never give him that coveted rare smile, who would never laugh at Harry’s antics, who would never make love to Harry again.

“Harry? Harry, son, it’s Arthur. Arthur Weasley. Ron’s right here with me. Is it all right if we sit and chat with you?”

Harry’s saving grace. Two people whom he cared about a great deal, and whom he knew cared for him as well. Two people that he could stand to look at, possibly to talk to. But he couldn’t leave Severus here. He just couldn’t.

As if they understood this, Ron and Arthur came into his view, stepping up to kneel down on the other side of the body so they could get a good view of Harry’s face. Harry focused on their familiar features over the expanse of Severus’ chest briefly, before his eyes unfocused again and he began to talk in a soft voice. It was best not to look at them while he said this, while he got his point across.

“I’m not leaving him,” he muttered, his grip tightening on Severus’ side, as if protecting them from ever parting.

“No one asked you to, Harry. It’s all right, you can stay where you are for now,” Arthur’s soothing voice told him. “But eventually, Harry, you’re going to have to let him go.”

“He died alone. I’m certain that he died surrounded by people who hated him, people who were hurting him. But he died scared and alone, and in incredible pain. He went through an hour of the Cruciatus curse. Do you know what that must have felt like?”

Harry paused to take a breath in, his heart aching all over again. He couldn’t face this. Why couldn’t they see that he couldn’t face this? Their presence was starting to feel oppressive now, instead of comforting. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone to mourn the loss of the most important person in his life?

“Harry, mate, there was nothing you could have done. You couldn’t have known that he would be called, or that he’d been found out,” Ron tried, looking sympathetic.

“I was with him,” Harry whispered, his eyes tearing up. He swallowed hard again to keep from falling to pieces. Because there was no doubt that once he started crying, he would not be able to stop. “I was with him last night, when he was called. I had a feeling in my gut, I knew somehow that something was wrong. I could have stopped him from going. I could have stopped him from dying.”

There was a pause as father and son looked to each other to try to find something to say. They both knew that it was in Harry’s nature to blame himself and shoulder all of the burden for mistakes that he felt were his own. It was almost pointless to argue with him on this point. Ron tried a different tact then.

“I know that you want to stay with him, but Harry, they’ve got things—they’ve got to move him.”

“Take him to the morgue. Determine official time of death. Determine official cause of death. I know how it works,” Harry countered. “Please just leave. I want to be alone with Severus.”

“Harry, that’s not Severus,” Arthur began, as a new idea formed in his head.

“Shut up. Go away,” Harry scoffed, more moisture forming in his eyes.

“Harry, it’s not Severus. Ever since his heart stopped beating, since the very minute it stopped, he hasn’t been Severus. At least, not the Severus you knew,” Arthur explained softly.

Harry took another swallow to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. The moisture in his eyes had increased, but no tears had spilled yet.

“I loved him. I was going to marry him,” he gasped, his chest tight, his throat burning, his heart aching.

“We know that, Harry,” Arthur reassured the boy in a compassionate tone. He took the opportunity to move around the two bodies, leaving Ron to kneel and look Harry in the face. Harry tensed visibly, his fingers tightening spasmodically on Severus’ chest. But Arthur only took up position kneeling behind Harry, not touching the young man quite yet. “But if Severus proposed to you, then he must have loved you too. And as someone who loved you, Severus would not have wanted you to do this to yourself, because he isn’t Severus, Harry, not anymore.”

Harry took a moment to try to calm his erratic breathing again and control the tears springing to his eyes, threatening to spill over. He couldn’t break down, not now. He had been so strong, he’d been okay, but Arthur’s words weren’t helping him keep it together. He was convinced that if he could just hold on, keep in command of his emotions, then he could get through this. Suddenly, something occurred to him, something so morbidly funny that he couldn’t contain himself from saying it.

“Do you know...that three hours ago, I asked him to promise me he would come back. He’s never made me a promise, not even when he proposed. He just said that if the fates decided that we could live after the war, then it was up to them. And last night, when I knew that something was horribly wrong and I still let him walk out that door, he actually promised me that he would return,” Harry gasped, half-laughter half-sob. “Isn’t that ridiculous? Isn’t that just the—the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”

Harry couldn’t hold it together anymore and he shut his eyes, finally allowing the sobs to be ripped from his chest and the tears to flow unimpeded. It had hurt so much keeping it inside, but it hurt even more now. Now that he was finally allowing himself to feel his heart breaking. And Merlin, was it breaking.

Arthur, who had been hovering close behind Harry the entire time, took the opportunity to touch the younger man. The man who was his son’s age, and who had just lost the most important person in his life. Arthur’s throat clogged up, but he beat back the lump viciously. This was not his lover, this was not his life to mourn. This was Harry’s, and Harry’s alone at the moment. There was no time for him to cry, not when the boy he had grown to love as a son was in so much pain. And so he grabbed Harry under the shoulder nestled on Severus’ arm, while gently loosening the man’s hold across Severus’ chest with his other hand. Then he pulled the young man into his arms and held him for all he was worth. Harry turned immediately into Arthur’s chest, his shoulders heaving and his breaths coming in hard gasps as he cried. Arthur used the opportunity to look over at his son, who had tears in his eyes.

As Ron stealthily wiped his tears away, he didn’t know what to think. Sure, he’d been surprised to find out that Harry was gay and even more shocked that he had been in a relationship with a much older man, someone they had used to hate. But no one deserved to lose the one they loved. Especially not Harry. Harry, who had lost so much already, so many lives that were important to him. He allowed a few more tears to fall and had to take a deep breath himself when he thought about what he would ever do if he lost his wife. Hermione and he had already been through so much with Harry. Ron would be devastated if Hermione ever died unexpectedly, he was certain.
He wiped his eyes hastily. This was not the time to be thinking about himself. He had to take care of his best friend. He had to make sure that Harry would be all right. He had to get Harry through this, past the anguish and loss. And part of that was getting the body out of here before Harry came to his senses. Because Severus Snape was dead, and Harry would likely never be the same again.

Ron motioned over the Ministry employee in charge of the body and began the process of cleaning up the mess the Dark Lord and his followers had made.

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A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Please drop me a review and tell me what you thought.

For those of you who asked, this will continue to be an angst-fest for a while, I'm just warning you :)
Oh, and THANK YOU to the people who rated the story and to my reviewers, Inugrl2004 and dominique!