Ashes of Armageddon

Severus was looking at Harry thoughtfully, wondering how it was possible for his own life to have taken such an apparent drastic turn so quickly.

Only a day ago, he was sulking quietly in Spinner's End, intent on spending the rest of his life with an emotional void that would never be healed, or filled with anything. Only four hours ago, he was standing in a Muggle book shop, looking for a Christmas story with a hidden message. And now, he was sitting by a fire, with Harry leaning against him.

Over the last three and a half years, up until now, Severus had seen Harry exactly four times. Each time they had met, they did nothing but exchange brief sarcastic remarks (even if the sarcasm was half-hearted at best), and embrace. Each time, Severus took his leave quickly, as not to give in to his feelings and be faced with the dreadful possibility of being accepted and welcomed.

Severus moved away from Harry gently, and the young man lifted his head and removed his hand instantly, albeit with clear displeasure, to allow him to withdraw.

“You aren't regretting coming here, are you?” Harry asked cautiously. His eyes were wide open now, watching Severus' every move.

Severus sighed slightly and shook his head. A part of him was regretting it, and yet, another part of him was regretting not coming sooner.

Harry's fingers reached to touch Severus on the face and trace his forehead. “Scars? You've...”

“Glamour charms,” Severus said quietly. “Very good ones. Multi-layered. I don't even feel them.”

Harry's arms went around him, holding him tightly, and he issued a single choked sob.

Severs snorted under his breath. “What now? You want me to take them off, I suppose, so that you could spend the night apologizing and sniveling?”

Harry shook his head and only held him tighter.

“No. Well. Whatever you are most comfortable with. I want you to feel completely free to be, or do, whatever you want.”

“I do,” Severus said with confidence he wasn't feeling at this point. “You should, as well.”

Harry nodded, lay on his back in the grass, and drew Severus into a relaxed embrace. Harry's hands were roaming his back and sides, the two bodies becoming re-acquainted, or to be exact, truly acquainted for the first time. Severus stretched out next to Harry and found himself relaxing under his caresses, far too easily and too quickly, he thought ruefully.

After three and a half years of resisting the irresistible, and after a life-time of loving unrequitedly, just why was he so quick to yield to the terrors of kindness? He shuddered with dread, but Harry's hands on him soothed the tremor that coursed through his body.

Harry's fingers ran along his spine, pressing gently along each vertebrae.

“Tension,” Harry murmured.

“I am fine.”

Harry sighed a little. “Turn over?.”

He did, oddly enough, not minding doing so – and felt Harry sitting on top of him, straddling his hips. He tensed involuntarily and very slightly at the contact of Harry's thighs with his buttocks. For just a brief second, a wave of panic, coupled with shame, washed over him. He sank his fingers into the grass, and stilled himself, not making a single sound.

Above him, Harry was absolutely still as well, not making any abrupt moves, simply waiting. Severus issued a deep breath, and then, found that the resistance of his own body began to dissipate. He sighed slightly and pressed his face into the grass.

“All right?” Harry asked him.

“So far, so good.”

Harry's fingers tugged on his shirt slightly. “May I remove your shirt?” Harry asked.

“If you must,” Severus said unenthusiastically, suddenly very much aware of the inescapable fact that he was an aging, unattractive man, lying on his belly, face down in the grass, with his former student, young, fit and good-looking, hovering over him, stroking his back.

Following his unhappy response, Harry made no move to disrobe him. Severus lifted himself on his elbows, reached underneath to unbutton the shirt, and pulled it off, baring his back, suddenly feeling utterly mortified, and incredibly vulnerable and hideous, as his scrawny, aging, damaged body was exposed to the cool night wind.

For a split second Severus remained frozen, fully expecting Harry to withdraw, or respond with revulsion. But then, he sensed Harry leaning over his back, and felt the warm moist touch of his lips, pressing to the nape of his neck. The lips followed the length of his spine, warm breath sending ripples of shivers down his back.

He lay, face down, oscillating between absolute terror and absolute bliss, as Harry's lips and hands caressed and soothed every ache and anxiety, over and over again, until he barely had any coherent thoughts left. All that existed was the gentle touch, and the breeze of the wind. Harry's lips pressed a kiss to the small of his back, and Harry's hands slid over his sides, fingers trailing his ribcage.

He felt mortified again, at how hideous he must have looked, but Harry did not appear to be bothered at all. His lips traveled back upwards, brushing against his spine, and rested again at the back of his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” Harry whispered softly, his hand resting on the back of Severus' head.

Severus growled slightly at the feeling of his hair being played with, but did not make a move to resist.

Harry's fingers touched his hair-tie. “May I?” he asked.

“Mmmhm.”

The hair-tie slid down, and his hair was set free, fanning out across his shoulders. Harry's fingers laced with the strands.

“You never cut your hair,” Harry observed.

His face was pressing into the crushed grass. His entire body shuddered when Harry's hand was laid between his shoulder-blades. He was about to offer a token scornful remark, but had no energy left for it; so instead he said tiredly:

“Whenever I was about to do it, I found myself wondering whether it was Tom Riddle who liked my hair long, or you.” The embarrassment of this simple admission was so profound that he buried his face even deeper into the grass that covered the soil.

Harry, in turn, climbed off of his back and buried his face in the hair, inhaling deeply. He whispered something that sounded like thank you although Severus could not be entirely sure. He turned to his side, and stared at Harry, to find the young man gazing back at him.

Severus bit his lip, as it suddenly dawned on him that for all intents and purposes he was half-naked, in plain view of a stranger. A beloved stranger, certainly, and probably the most important person in the world to him, but someone who had never been a close friend. Severus bowed his head slightly, suddenly feeling as if he would be happy to vanish off the face of the earth altogether, and spare himself the embarrassment of the moment. Harry's hands grasped his face, and held it firmly.

“I love you,” Harry said. “I'll be honest with you; I'm not a particularly nice person; and after sharing my brain with Tom Riddle for five years, I doubt that I am a good one, either. But I do love you, as much as someone like me can love anyone.”

Severus could not understand it, so he just sat in absolute silence, still embarrassed and anxious, beyond what words could express. Harry was watching him with concern. Hesitantly and awkwardly, Severus reached to stroke Harry's shoulders. Harry smiled in encouragement but tensed slightly, when Severus ran his hands along Harry's arms.

“What's wrong?” Severus asked.

“Nothing at all,” Harry said, still smiling.. “Everything is fine.”

Severus regarded him thoughtfully, and reached to take Harry's right arm in his hands, and roll up the sleeve. Harry bit his lip slightly, but permitted it. Severus looked at the smooth, unblemished skin on Harry's arm. Harry shivered slightly, allowing his arm to be scrutinized, and then, moved to withdraw it and roll the sleeve back down. Before he made a move, however, Severus ran his fingers along the Harry's bare arm. In spite of the appearance of smoothness, his fingertips encountered roughness and irregularities, that felt like scars.

“Take the Glamours off,” Severus demanded. “Let me see.”

Harry shook his head. “It's nothing.”

“The hell it is. Now.”

“Fine,” Harry said reluctantly. He reached for his wand and flicked it, and the Glamours fell off, revealing deep scars, running along his arm.

“The other arm? The same?”

“A little better,” Harry muttered.

“What the devil did you do to yourself?” Severus demanded. “And when?”

Harry shrugged. “Two years ago,” he said. “But it's nothing. It's all over with,” he added hastily.

Severus placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. “Why?”

“It just got to be too much,” Harry said. “After all I've done to you... There's an empty space inside. A memory of cruelty. Every night, I wish I could go back in time, and change what I've done.... or wish I could give something in return, or make amends; but I realize that you likely wouldn't want anything from me anyway... so I just go back to sleep, and this... empty space just grows. Day after day.”

“A void,” Severus mused.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“How long have you felt it?”

“Since the first time I hurt you. But, as Tom Riddle, I rather enjoyed it. The void, that is. A constant reminder that I had hurt someone, and rejected them in the worst way possible. After Tom's Dust was gone...” Harry shook his head, and stared away.

“Tell me,” Severus insisted.

“There isn't much to tell,” Harry whispered. “After things at the Ministry were back to normal, and I stepped down as the Minister of Magic, I realized that there was no more reason for me to remain alive. You were as free as you could be. My work was complete. My friends all had their own lives. Ginny didn't need me the way I was, neither did my son. So... I did this Muggle thing,” Harry smirked. “Thought I'd just cut the veins open and bleed to death. It's kind of morbid, maybe in a way I wanted to find out what it felt like for you, back in the Shrieking Shack.”

Severus shook his head sadly. “And?”

“Felt peaceful actually,” Harry said. “But then, just as I was about to pass out, probably for good, I thought of something that really scared me. I thought, the slave-bonds, they are really unfair and ridiculous and all, but they do have some sort of perverse symmetry in them. I thought, what if that.. void... what if I wasn't the only one who could feel it? What if you could feel it on your end of the bond, and what if it needed something from me to be repaired? And then, I thought, what if I had died, and the void remained for you, but without any way of fixing it? So I got really scared then.” Harry smiled sheepishly. “Crawled to my wand, and stopped the blood flow. Firecalled Hermione, and then, passed out.” Harry winked. “She nearly murdered me herself when she got to Godric's Hollow.”

“I can imagine,” Severus said humorlessly. “Why haven't I heard of this? I told her to tell me if your life or health were in danger.”

“Well,” Harry mused reasonably. “But the time she was done with me, I was out of danger. I had decided I wouldn't try again. And I asked her not to say anything.”

“Hmm,” Severus muttered, still displeased. “Why did you keep the scars?”

Harry yawned tiredly. “It's a two-hour treatment at St. Mungo's to remove them, and I just couldn't be bothered. I had no plans to start dating, Hermione and Ron already knew, and around Hugo and Ginny, I just wear Glamours.”

Harry fell back on his back in the grass, and drew Severus to himself again. Severus rested his head against Harry's shoulder. Harry smelled of sun, and grass, and Hyppogriff feathers, and Severus inhaled deeply, suddenly intoxicated beyond all reason, unable to get enough of the scent. Harry's lips pressed to the top of his head, and his hands ran down his hair and his back.

He shouldn't have felt this much relief, this much joy, this much wonder at this simple token of acceptance – but he did, and even felt a tear collect in the corner of his eye. To his dismay, Harry glanced up and noticed it. Severus blinked to be rid of it, but Harry's hands drew him forward and Harry kissed the tear away, lifting it with his lips.

“Please let me love you,” Harry whispered in his ear.

Severus could not answer anything to it, or even offer a nod.

Harry went to lie on his back again, drawing Severus into his arms one more time. Severus complied, his face pressed against Harry's chest, his hair falling down, Harry's fingers getting entangled in the strands of it.

After that, they lay together in absolute silence. Severus fell asleep first, Harry's right arm wrapped around him in a tender, loose embrace.

... To Be Continued...


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