Ashes of Armageddon

Once they returned to the cabin, Harry closed the door and lit the fireplace. Severus gave him his best disgruntled glare, vaguely suspecting that it wasn't nearly as menacing as it used to be. Undeterred in the slightest, Harry continued to gaze at him in wonder, as if unable to get enough of the sight before him.

“What do you want with me?” Severus muttered uncomfortably, taking off his robe, and throwing it on the back of one of the chairs. “I'm old.”

“Dignified,” Harry countered serenely.

“My hair is greasy.”

“I like the length though.”

“My teeth are crooked.”

“I don't care.”

“I have wrinkles and grey hairs.”

Harry smiled ruefully. “So I noticed. I am sure I am the cause of most of them, too.”

“I am hideous.”

Harry looked at him seriously. “You are magnificent.”

“You are ridiculous,” Severus informed him.

“I am, am I?” Harry murmured. “That's all right then, you can be dignified for both of us.”

Severus snorted derisively and stomped off, heading towards Harry's bed. He proceeded to lie on his back, fully dressed, his arms folded on his chest, and his ankles crossed.

“Well,” Severus said sardonically, “Your magnificent servant is at your mercy. Enjoy.” It sounded more like a challenge than an offer of any kind. Harry laughed quietly and climbed onto the bed, sitting across from Severus, at his feet, Harry's back leaning against the footboard of the bed.

“If I do something that you don't like, tell me, all right? Or at the very least, kick me.”

“Hmm,” Severus muttered noncommittally, shutting his eyes. “We'll see how the mood strikes.”

Severus felt Harry's hands lift his feet, and then, take off his shoes and and socks, and make the soles of his bare feet press against Harry's abdomen. Harry's body was very warm, almost too hot to touch, and Severus was about to ask whether Harry was running a fever, when Harry observed:

“Your feet are cold. Are you -”

“I'm just fine,” Severus cut him off, instantly defensive, however, come to think of it, he was cold entirely too often; and that's precisely why he had a habit of wearing multiple layers of clothing. How could it be otherwise, with his body being practically skin and bones? Still, it wasn't something he liked to be reminded of.

Harry said nothing else. His hands began to stroke and massage Severus' feet, knuckles pressing against the soles of his feet, releasing the knots of tension that Severus had not even been aware of.

“Feel good?” Harry asked.

“Mmmhm,” Severus muttered grudgingly.

“I want to see you more often.”

“You'll see me often enough, once the vaccine is ready. I'll be checking on the animals every month.”

“You should check on them more often than that,” Harry said seriously. “Just to be on the safe side.”

“Once a week, perhaps.”

“Twice a day, I think,” Harry said solemnly. “With a species this endangered, you can never be too careful.”

Severus was lying on his back, feeling Harry's fingers caress his heels, and then, his toes.

“Is this all right?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” he said, disdaining how how meek and subdued his voice sounded.

“What would you like?” Harry asked.

Severus did not open his eyes. The question embarrassed him immensely.

“Well, what is it that you want, Harry?” he asked irritably.

Harry shifted slightly, and Severus opened his eyes in reaction to the the sensation that followed: Harry's lips were pressed to the top of his feet.

“Want you,” Harry said. “Want to see you happy, want to be the one to make you happy. Want to hold you. Every night. Forever. Want you to meet my son. Oh, and I want to raise a litter of venomous rooster-snakes, just for you. Not for St. Mungo's, not for the wizarding world, not for the werewolves. For you.”

“Clutch,” Severus said automatically. “Clutch of venomous rooster-snakes.”

“Whatever.”

Severus sighed slightly, as Harry's fingers stroked his ankles, while the soles of his feet were positioned firmly against Harry's abdomen.

Severus shuddered slightly, when Harry's fingers trailed in between his toes.

“What do you want?” Harry asked again.

What the hell did he want? Why was it so impossible to answer that simple question?

The truth was, his entire body was starved for affection and kindness. Throughout his life, he hadn't had much experience with either – and the only thing he could come up with was that he wanted to be held again, like the first night – but he was damned if he was going to ask for it. He just shrugged indifferently.

“May I hold you? Take you in my arms?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Severus shrugged again. “If you like,” he said impassively, dreading that his furious heartbeat would betray him.

“All right,” Harry murmured. “Unlike that night, this time around, I'm going to be more restrained, and not act like a hormonal teenager. If I do something you don't want, tell me, and I'll stop.”

Slowly, Harry crawled towards him, and sat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. Severus offered no resistance when Harry guided him into his embrace. Severus simply rested his head in Harry's lap, his cheek pressing against the young man's thigh, and sighed tiredly, shutting his eyes. Harry's hands were on his hair again, moving with agonizing tenderness, parting his locks, then massaging his scalp and his temples, and Severus began to drift off to a dreamlike state, where the world around him ceased to exist. He could quit his post at St. Mungo's and spend the rest of his life like this, he thought, without any regret.

“What do you like?” Harry asked suddenly, his hands still resting on Severus' head. “I mean – how do you like being touched – in general?”

“At this point, I'm not entirely sure,” Severus said tiredly. “Over the last decade or so, I haven't had any sexual or intimate experiences, apart from...” he didn't finish the sentence, not wanting to bring up the events at Godric's Hollow yet again. “But this is very good,” he added hastily, even if his voice sounded slightly strained. “You have skilled hands.”

Harry's hands rested on his hair-tie. “May I?”

He had meant to decline, but somehow, when he opened his mouth, his lips betrayed him, and the words, “It's fine,” emerged of their own accord.

Harry' reached for the tie, sliding it off. Harry's hands entangled in the strands of his hair. Skillfully and gently, Harry's fingers separated one strand from the rest of the hair, and trailed the length of it. There was just a faint hint of possessiveness in Harry's touch, or perhaps Severus merely imagined it, he was not certain. Still, he froze, wondering whether Harry would try to weave his hair into a braid. He bit into his lower lip, attempting to banish the image from his mind, but without any success. The tension continued to mount, until he was absolutely rigid, unable to move, or utter a single word.

He was ready to curse himself then. He really did have a knack for humiliating himself, didn't he? First by agreeing to this – diving into it like some obsessed teenager, then by freezing, like a scared child, once given what he had wanted so badly, for so long.

Harry appeared to sense his tension and released his hair. Harry's hand simply rested against his cheek.

“All right?” Harry asked.

“Just lovely,” Severus said with loathing.

Harry said nothing, simply sat in silence, and waited, his fingertips caressing the side of Severus' face.

“I am sorry,” Severus said finally. “I didn't mean to...” his voice broke, and he could not continue the sentence, as a sudden dread overcame him – the dread of this brief moment of intimacy ending far too soon, because of his inability to control himself. “I'm sorry,” he said again with resignation.

Harry's fingertips stroked his cheek again.

“No,” Harry said firmly. The usual meekness was gone from his voice, and for a second, something like anger appeared in his voice; but it did not appear to be directed at Severus. Harry paused for a moment, as if stilling himself, and then continued, calmly and evenly: “You've got nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who should be sorry, and the rest of the wizarding world too, crawling on hands and knees before you, as far as I am concerned. You do not blame us – fine. But then, you shouldn't blame yourself for your body's reactions, either.”

Even if his face did not betray it, or so he hoped, Severus was so distraught, Harry's words barely penetrated his awareness.

“I mean it, you know,” Harry said quietly. “Whatever your boundaries are in this, I can work with it. Maybe it'd be a good idea for you to tell me ...”

Severus shrugged slightly. “It's fine.”

“Tell me,” Harry insisted gently. “ I want you to be comfortable. As much as possible, anyway.”

“Forget it,” Severus growled, and lifted himself on his elbow, to slide off his lap, and lie on his side. Harry sighed, and followed to do the same, stretching on the bed, on his side, facing Severus.

“I'm serious,” Harry said evenly. “Tell me. I need to know what's all right, and what's not. What your boundaries are... ”

Severus laughed harshly and scornfully under his breath.

“Boundaries?” he repeated , marking the word with absolute derision.

“Yes.”

“I've got none left. And that's the unfortunate truth.”

Harry winced at his words. “That can't be true. You get angry...”

“Oh yes, I get angry. My anger is vaguely hovering over the areas where my boundaries used to reside. But they themselves are no longer there. The truth of the matter is, Harry, is that if you are kind to me, I am afraid, I will let you do anything you like to me; just in order to continue receiving the affection that you are so cheerfully offering now. And that's not how I like seeing myself.”

A long pause to ensued, while Harry stared at him speechlessly. Briefly, it seemed as if Harry was going to say something, but then, apparently Harry changed his mind, and simply nodded to Severus to continue. He did.

“Back in Godric's Hollow,” Severus said tiredly, “there were moments of mercy. Some of them, I believe you were genuinely trying to throw the effects of the Dust off; and to be kind, as much as you were able to, in your state. But some.. it was clearly the predator playing with his prey.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “I know.”

“Well,” Severus murmured. “At the end of it all... the truth is, I could no longer tell the difference. Or, perhaps I still could, but no longer cared. The night when you three...” He paused and his mouth twitched slightly, as he remembered himself, bloodied and naked, in full view of his rapists, seated on the bed, with Harry embracing him, and stroking his hair. “When your hand was on my back that night, I was almost ready to throw everything to the wind, and give myself over to the brief pity it offered. No matter the source of it, or the cost.”

Harry swallowed audibly. “Is this why you are .. well.. anxious?” He asked. “Because you keep thinking that, if pushed hard enough, you might have given up?”

“In part,” Severus agreed. “You say you want me to be comfortable? How do you propose I achieve that, stripped to the bone before someone I barely know as a person?. You could do anything you wanted to me – and I would not be able to say no, if only you insisted. I would likely allow you to parade me around in front of the entire house of Gryffindor on collar and lead, if only I thought it would earn me a moment of kindness afterwards.” He chuckled unhappily, amazed at the fact that he had blurted something like that out loud, to Harry, of all people. “Ah,” he murmured. “What can I say. I hadn't intended to say any of it; but apparently I can't even bring myself to keep my most private thoughts away from you, if you push me hard enough to disclose them. You have no idea how much power you hold over me, Harry.”

He moved and lifted himself to sit up, ready to get up and leave, and spare himself any further embarrassment. His entire body shuddered slightly when Harry threw his arms around him, Harry's chest pressing to his back. Harry's heart was beating furiously, and when Harry's cheek pressed against Severus' face, it bore the unmistakable dampness of tears.

Severus was at a loss for words, and Harry for his part seemed to have forgotten how to speak as well. He simply drew Severus to himself, and rocked him in his arms, as if he were a child.

“No, no no,” Harry was saying insistently. “Never. Never. Don't think like that,” Harry asked, his voice shaking noticeably. “It won't be like that. Never like that.”

And then, those tiny droplets fell on him, raining copiously, as Harry wept soundlessly, never releasing him from his grip. It appeared that Harry was crying over him – and Severus could not understand how, or why – in fact, he could not recall anyone ever shedding any tears over him before.

“I really should go,” Severus whispered, absolutely mortified. He was not even sure how he could get back to work and carry on after something like this.

“Not yet,” Harry said. “Please, stay for the night. Go back in the morning. I realize that with the time difference, I've completely messed up your work day, and your sleep patterns, but - please. Stay for the night. I ... I need you. Here.”

“Well. All right then,” Severus muttered, unconvinced but oddly grateful. Harry helped him stretch out on the bed, and then collapsed next to him, facing him again.

“It must be late here,” Severus observed.

“Kind of,” Harry whispered. “About three in the morning.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep, then.”

“Maybe,” Harry agreed reluctantly. “You will be here when I wake up?”

Severus snorted. “Would I run from my Master?” He asked bitterly.

“In a heartbeat,” Harry said, smiling through the tears.

Severus chuckled, bemused. “You really should have more faith in the wonders of our unique bond, Mr. Potter.”


...To Be Continued...

Many thanks to SoftObsidian74 and rettavex for helping with this chapter. You rock! : )
Pls review if you like so far...