Ashes of Armageddon

The following morning would have been predictably awkward and strained, had they not both slept in, making Severus late for work. No time was left for mortified introspection, or strained apologies. As it were, as soon as they became aware of the time, they scrambled for their clothing, hastily cast cleansing spells on themselves and took the Floo to St. Mungo\'s.



Severus got out of the usual Monday morning meetings as fast as he could, and then, proceeded with inoculation. It took them half an hour to be inoculated, and then, Severus packed a case with vaccine vials for Harry to take to the island for the Hyppogriffs.



As soon as that was done, they Apparated to the reserve, where the Cockatrice, all eighteen of them, were already contained in a large kennel, ready to be loaded onto the ship to be transported to the island. The creatures were large, the largest of them were only slightly smaller than Padfoot. The bodies were birdlike, and so were the heads, and the feet. The wings, however, had no plumage - in fact, they were scaly, ridged, reptilian, and bore striking resemblance to those of dragon wings. The Cockatrice tails, adorned with spikes, extended to the length of at least four feet. The prized venom, Severus knew, was accumulated in those spikes, as well as in the pods lacing the claws, the wings, and the beaks of the creatures.



The paperwork did not take long at all – Harry had managed to take good care of all preliminary formalities without him. Once the papers were signed, Severus and Harry approached the kennel to inspect the animals.



The animals were physically alive – but they were far from well. A small group of them huddled in the furthest corner of the cage, clinging to each other. Others were tossing themselves against the cage, screeching furiously, their bodies slamming hard into the metal bars.



Severus almost winced at the sight. It pained him to see the once fearsome creatures driven to near insanity, damaging themselves in futile attempts to break out of their impossible prison. The creatures used to be strong, powerful, resilient – and yet it was their resilience that made them so highly prized, and proved to the their final undoing.



“Perhaps we should go,” he said uncomfortably. “I doubt we will be of any help here; and I do not think they will calm down until they actually arrive to the island.”



“Wait,” Harry asked quietly, and slowly, made his way to the kennel, standing a few feet away.



One of the Cockatrice pressed itself against the bars, and fixed its gaze on him, appearing surprised, that Harry was unprotected, but not petrified, like he should have been.



“Hey,” Harry said quietly, crouching on the ground next to the cage. “It\'s all right. Just five more days.”



The Cockatrice issued a deep hiss, and then, broke into a long speech, that was unmistakably in Parseltongue. Harry bowed his head, giving an appearance of listening attentively.



The creature\'s exclamation had ended, and the Cockatrice stared at Harry piercingly, as if demanding an answer.



Harry smiled sadly. “No,” he answered gently, speaking in English. “Not a new prison. Home. I promise.”



The Cockatrice scrutinized him with obvious skepticism, but then withdrew from the bars of the cage.



A few minutes later, the kennel was loaded onto the ship, which departed shortly, bearing the creatures away. Harry got off his knees, and brushed off the dirt from his trousers. Severus was watching him thoughtfully, as old dread was coursing through him.



“What?” Harry asked.



“I thought you no longer spoke Parseltongue,” Severus said evenly.



“I don\'t,” Harry said. “But I can still understand it. Recognition memory, I guess.”



“Hmm.” Severus should have been reassured by the response but instead, the dread intensified, because he knew all too well where Harry\'s aptitude for Parseltongue came from. “You never mentioned that.”



“It ... didn\'t occur to me to bring it up. I suppose I didn\'t think it would bother you. Does it?”



The decades spent by the side of the Dark Lord, hearing him use the language of the serpents to his own end, had left an impression on Severus. The mere fact of Harry understanding Parseltongue was not enough to unsettle Severus, but the thoughts that accompanied this sudden revelation, were troubling.



“It doesn\'t bother me that you still understand Parseltongue,” Severus said calmly. “However, it does make me wonder, what other languages of Tom\'s you still speak.”



Harry bowed his head and looked away.



Severus was watching him intently. He did not need Legilimency to read one\'s body language, especially as transparent and obvious. There was a faint shadow of guilt crossing Harry\'s face, his body was tense- and Severus knew he had hit a nerve.



“How much of Tom Riddle is still a part of you, Harry?” Severus asked with absolute calm.



“I am not sure how to answer that,” Harry said hesitantly, not lifting his eyes.



Severus continued to stare at him, unblinking. “What do you dream about, Harry?”



Harry winced at the question. “It\'s not important.”



“I see.”



They stood next to each other, and Harry reached out to him to touch his arm. Severus recoiled from his touch, as if he had been burned. For a few minutes, he stared at the young man, feeling nothing but absolute, irrational, blinding rage. For the most part , however, Severus raged at himself. He already despised himself for having opened up so much, and disclosed so much, more than he had ever done in his entire life – and when he had attempted to inquire about something that was obviously relevant and important, he was met with a wall of resistance and denial.



There could not be a more powerful and humiliating reminder of slave-bond, however benign and dormant that bond was. He was known, Severus thought absently. His mind was as good as an open book – his most personal memories had been viewed by everyone in Wizengamot three and a half years ago, and deemed insufficient to establish his innocence. There was nothing private, nothing hidden about him. Even his body was known, claimed and marked in numerous ways.



Harry himself remained an uncharted territory, but of course, that was the Master\'s prerogative. The master was entitled to know anything about the servant, without the necessity to reveal anything regarding himself.



Harry\'s gaze moved slowly to meet his eyes. “What are you thinking?” Harry asked cautiously.



“What am I thinking?” Severus repeated coldly. “Perhaps I am wondering just where exactly this is going; and how long until I am writing lines for you... again.”



Harry looked at him painfully “It\'s not like that.”



He probably should have felt sorry for the anguished expression on Harry\'s face, but when Severus searched himself for sympathy, he found none.



“How is it, Harry?” Severus asked evenly.



A long silence followed, with Harry biting his lips, looking as if he was trying to force an answer out, but finding himself unable to do so.



“Fine,” Harry said suddenly. “Ask me anything you want. I will answer.”



“Are you a sadist?” Severus demanded.



“No.”



“Do you enjoy humiliating or embarrassing others?”



“No.”



“Are you a psychopath?” Severus asked.



“Not according to St. Mungo\'s psychopathy scales.”



“Forget the scales, Harry. What do you think? Are there psychopathic traits in your personality?”



“Not as far as I can tell,” Harry said quietly.



Severus paused for a bit, and then altered the line of questioning slightly.



“Do you enjoy winning, at any cost? More so than you ever had before?”



“Yes,” Harry said, wincing slightly.



“Do you enjoy being right, no matter what?”



“Yes.”



“Do you enjoy having power – political, magical, personal?”



“Yes,” Harry said reluctantly.



Severus stared at the young, powerful wizard in front of him, and wondered if he had gone completely insane to be continuing this conversation. Had he not spent enough time at the beck and call of men infatuated with power? What good could possibly come out of this?



“What do you dream about, Harry?” Severus asked softly.



Harry smiled bitterly. “I\'m not exactly in control over my dreams, you know.”



“Then I do not understand why you are so enigmatically tight-lipped about it,” Severus said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What? Do you dream of seeing me on my knees?”



Harry flinched, as if he\'d been slapped, but answered the question with a softly spoken, “Sometimes, yes.”



“Do you enjoy it?” Severus demanded.



Harry glanced at him in absolute misery, and said nothing, just nodded slightly, only once.



Severus stared at him speechlessly, stunned in spite of himself by Harry\'s admission.



When Severus finally recovered his voice, he asked simply: “Why?”



Harry shrugged resignedly. “I wonder about that, too,” he said. “The best answer I can come up with, is that over the five years of me hosting Tom Riddle in my brain, my mind became conditioned to associate power with pleasure. I always have, to some extent... but not quite so much.”



Harry glanced at him expectantly, and Severus nodded to him to continue.



“I know it\'s dangerous,” Harry added quietly. “And for what it\'s worth, I\'m not proud of it. So I do my best not to wallow in it. I don\'t accumulate the power – you know? I am trying to keep things simple. No high-profile jobs. No fame. No politics. No Deathly Hallows. When... it was all over, I gave the stone to Neville, and the Cloak to Ron and Hermione. Now, it\'s just.. me and the Hyppogriffs.”



“That\'s very admirable,” Severus said dryly. “Why didn\'t you see fit to tell me any of this?”



Harry sighed deeply. “In all honesty, because I didn\'t want you to feel coerced, for lack of better words. I didn\'t want you to think that you had to live up to some sort of fantasy of a damaged mind. I didn\'t want you to feel like you weren\'t enough, just the way you are.”



“I see. You\'ve kept this information from me for my own good then,“ Severus said bitterly. “Dumbledore taught you well.”



He suspected that it was ridiculous for him to feel this way – so hurt and betrayed; but he could not shake off the feeling, no matter how hard he tried. He realized that in spite of everything, he had began to trust Harry, and to believe that they might have a relationship where there would be some sort of reciprocity and mutuality – at least where personal disclosures were concerned.



Harry was eying him with concern. “I swear to you,” Harry said softly, “I have no desire to hurt you or embarrass you. That\'s not even close to what – that – feels like.”



“All right,” Severus said with forced calm. “What does it feel like?”



“I\'m not so good with words; and it\'s hard to explain,” Harry whispered. “For lack of better words, it feels like ... warmth... and gratitude....” Harry\'s voice trailed off. “There\'s a desire to reciprocate. To protect. To honor. I don\'t know how else to describe it.”



“You make it sound almost benign,” Severus mused. “Who could argue with warmth, protectiveness and gratitude?”



Harry looked at him questioningly.



“I\'ve heard those words before, Harry. They hold little meaning for me at this point."



“Well, you wanted to know,” Harry said tiredly. “So – now what? Are you going to leave?”



Severus scowled at him.



“No. You are,” Severus said sharply. “You will never set your foot in Spinner\'s End again without my explicit invitation.”



“That\'s ... fine,” Harry said quietly.



“Do not show up in St. Mungo\'s, unless you require medical attention. For I assure you, if I find you trolling around my workplace, you will require medical attention.”



Harry\'s lips twitched slightly to create a semblance of a mirthless smile.



“All right,” Harry said peacefully. “I won\'t intrude into your personal space again. I promise. Would you visit me again?”



“Visit you?” Severus drawled contemptuously, spitting out the words with cold disdain. “Whatever for? What is it that draws you so much to me, Harry? Is it my frailty and brokenness that make me so attractive to you? Do you feel powerful next to someone who can never say no to you – if only you insist, or push hard enough?”



He fully expected Harry to lash out at him, or retaliate in some way, but Harry simply lifted his eyes to look at him with kindness.



“Tell me,” Harry offered softly, “have I done anything to embarrass you or hurt you in the last two months? Have I been cruel or thoughtless ? Have I tried to take advantage of you? ” There was no self-pity or accusation in his voice; in fact, the words seemed to carry nothing but the genuine desire to know the truth.



Severus bowed his head, almost embarrassed of his outburst. “No,” he admitted grudgingly. “You\'ve been ... good to me.”



Harry issued a small sigh of relief. “I assure you,” Harry said firmly, “that I have no intention, or inclination, to be any other way with you.”



Severus forced out a faint smile. “I am afraid at this point, my Master\'s good intentions are not sufficient for my comfort. My former Master,” Severus marked the word Master with just a touch of contempt, “had plenty of good intentions – but I am afraid they did me little good, once the war was over.”



“I can see that,” Harry conceded reluctantly. “Well – isn\'t there anything I can do – some kind of guarantee that I can offer to you? I don\'t want to lose you,” Harry added softly. “And I want to try to make things good for you.”



With caution and hesitation, Harry lifted his hand to touch Severus on his face. Severus bowed his head tiredly, but did not withdraw from his touch. Harry\'s cool fingers stroked Severus on the cheek, absorbing the heat of his humiliation, rage, self-loathing and desperation, conveying comfort with every caress.



“I love you,” Harry said quietly. “Please let me love you. That\'s all I ask of you. That\'s all I will ever ask.”



To his dread, Severus found himself leaning into his Master\'s touch instinctively, without any thought to what he was doing; ready and willing to believe any promise or assurance offered this way. It took all of his willpower to pull away.



“Fine,” Severus said sharply, surprised that he was still able to “I will come to your island in two weeks\' time. When I do, you will grant me a covenant. If you fail to do so at that time, you can be certain that I will never set my foot at your workplace again.”



Harry\'s face held an expression of perfect confusion. “What\'s a covenant?” Harry asked hesitantly, as if anticipating being scolded for not knowing.



Severus did not see the need to disappoint him. “Help me understand this, Harry,” he demanded, “you have a human being bonded to you, magically and emotionally, and yet, you have never troubled yourself to research and understand the bond you are holding in your hands?”



“No,” Harry admitted calmly. “To be honest, I didn\'t think it would matter... since King\'s Cross... “



“This sort of naivety does not inspire a great deal of confidence in my owner,” Severus said evenly.



“I am not your owner!” Harry spat vehemently, raising his voice at Severus for the first time since their reunion.



“Of course not,” Severus countered scornfully, feeling oddly satisfied that he had finally managed to elicit some anger from him. “Why should a noble Gryffindor acknowledge holding a power over another human being? It is far more pleasant to dwell in blissful denial, and think that good intentions and warm feelings have the power to remedy any problem.”



He shook his head derisively, and walked away without looking back.



To Be Continued...



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