A Promise

Disclaimer: Still not mine :)

A/N: Phew! So relieved to be done with this one. I must apologize for the lateness of this chapter, RL has been a bitch lately. As well as writer's block. I had to rework this about a dozen times before I was kind of happy with it. I'm still not too pleased with it, but I'll let you dear readers be the judges :) Review responses below!

---

Chapter 5

I’m dreaming, Harry thought. There couldn’t be any other reasonable explanation. Because his eyes were closed and he was laying in a bed, and there were arms bracketing his body in a comfortable hold. Arms that he would recognize even in a dream, they were so familiar. Harry was just thinking of trying to wake himself up when first a stubbled cheek and then a beaky nose brushed the side of his face gently. Then, a kiss to his temple, and the feeling of those arms tightening their hold and soft breath ghosting over his ear.

“Then don’t wake up,” uttered the smoky voice that Harry loved so much, as another kiss was feathered on the side of his neck.

“Severus,” Harry whispered desperately, not daring to open his eyes and discover that it was a dream. Because he didn’t think he could bear to lose that part of himself all over again.

“Mmm, in the mood for it, are we?” chuckled the voice as more insistent kisses were patterned across Harry’s neck. “Then I shall oblige you, Mr. Potter.”

Harry didn’t dare breathe as he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he was in the hotel room they had rented the night before Severus’ death. The night before his life changed irrevocably. Tears stung Harry’s eyes as he noted where he was. Had everything else been a dream then? Had he made the entire scenario up in his own head? It had felt real at times, but mostly Harry had felt in a trance since he had found Severus dead in the atrium.

A burgeoning hope settled in Harry’s chest and more tears flooded his eyes. But he had to be sure. He had to be sure that this wasn’t a dream, that he wasn’t just making this up. Because if it turned out that this was a dream all over again, then he didn’t know how he would cope. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes again, hardly daring to smile at the loving kisses and caresses from Severus.

“Severus?”

“Mm?” Harry gasped as Severus bit at his neck in response, the feeling eliciting a response in him despite his better instincts.

“What day is it?”

“Umm...the 17th of May, I believe.”

This was muttered around Harry’s flesh once again. Harry took in a shaky breath. One question right. Another to go before he could be truly convinced.

“Could you...” Harry’s voice cracked and immediately the kisses stopped and Severus’ arms hugged him more tightly.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Harry insisted weakly, scrunching his eyes more tightly shut. “I just...I need to feel your heartbeat. I need to feel it. Please.”

There was a pause, likely while Severus wondered why it was so important for Harry to feel his fiance’s beating heart. But eventually, moist lips brushed the side of his face and Severus’ arms loosened their hold. Harry panicked briefly when there was no more bodily contact, thinking he’d dreamt it all, but then the older man’s hands were back, helping him to turn over. Harry made certain that his eyes were closed as tightly as possible, so he could still hold onto the illusion if he was wrong. Severus made no comment beyond a concerned hum as he saw Harry’s expression. Once Harry had fully turned over, he felt breath ghost across his lips only seconds before those lovely thin lips pressed to his own lightly.

“I’m right here,” Severus murmured into Harry’s mouth, not bothering to move back as their lips continued to mesh. “I’m not going anywhere, love, I’m right here with you.”

Harry indulged in a few moments with his lover, allowing their tongues to tangle languidly and Severus’ strong hands to stroke his skin with light touches. After all, if this turned out to be a dream, then Harry wanted to hold onto these feelings for as long as possible after they were over. Finally, Harry realized that he could no longer put off the inevitable, and so kept his eyes shut as their lips parted at last. Both men were slightly out of breath from the long, slow kisses. Severus elected to cuddle their faces close together, leaning forward so their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, so softly he wasn’t sure that Severus had heard until the other man responded.

“I adore you,” Severus murmured in a voice roughened by their loving.

“Please don’t let this be a dream,” Harry pleaded.

His tears finally leaked out of the corners of his eyes, even as Severus placed one last butterfly kiss along his jaw. Severus made another tsk in the back of his throat once he noticed the droplets of moisture tracking swiftly across Harry’s face, but otherwise said nothing else.

Harry inhaled deeply and moved his hand towards Severus’ chest slowly. When he encountered the bare chest, his breath hitched. It was warm and familiar in every way, and Harry spared a few more moments to ghost his hand across the planes of Severus’ stomach and little by little, inched his way up to where he knew Severus’ heart should be beating.

Lub-Dub. Lub-Dub. Lub-Dub. LubDub. LubDub. LubDub. LubDub. Lub-Dub. Lub-Dub. Lub-Dub.

The fascinating nuances of the human heartbeat had never escaped Harry’s notice before, and it was especially captivating now. The way Severus’ heart beat faster as he inhaled, then slowed once more on the exhale. Harry had once insisted on spending an entire night listening to his lover’s heart beating firmly in the other man’s chest. Severus had scoffed at his sentimentality at the time, accusing Harry of being too emotional. But they had met just after Harry had lost some of his colleagues in a brutal battle with the Death Eaters and Harry had needed to be reassured that his lover wasn’t going to die. Harry had barely slept that night, but when he finally did drop off, it had been to the intensely comforting feeling of small drums beating in Severus’ chest.

That feeling had not worn off whatsoever. Now that Harry had reassured himself that there was in fact a heartbeat to feel, the tears flowed more rapidly and sobs tore at his throat. It had been a dream. The whole awful experience, the entire thing had been a figment of his unconscious mind. If he hadn’t been so relieved, he would have laughed, but as it was he could barely contain his loss. Because even though Severus was alive—alive!—the thought that he had lost him, even in a dream, would not leave him.

“Don’t ever die,” Harry pleaded brokenly, the hand over Severus’ heart nearly clawing the warm chest, while his other hand came up to intertwine with Severus’ own fingers. “Please, just promise me you’ll never die.”

“I can’t make that promise,” Severus said, in a tone much different from the one he had been using so far. It made Harry pause. “You know I can’t. But you cannot dwell on death, Harry, it isn’t any way to live.”

“I know,” Harry sniffed, hugging Severus all the more tightly. “I just thought I lost you.”

“Well, you haven’t,” Severus rebuffed, running a soothing hand through Harry’s mess of hair.

They both paused for a few moments, and Severus continued petting Harry’s scalp while they hugged and Harry continued to feel Severus’ heartbeat. Harry couldn’t believe that he’d made it all up in a dream. It had seemed so real. It had seemed like his heart had actually broken, that Severus had in fact been dead, that the funeral was going to be that very day. But it had all been a figment of his unconscious mind. He sighed, relaxing even more into Severus’ body.

“Now, as much as I love having you so close, you still haven’t opened your eyes yet,” Severus chuckled, stroking Harry’s hair back from his forehead in a fond gesture. “And I should very much like to see those green eyes of yours one last time before we have to leave this hovel.”

Harry laughed briefly, realizing that he’d been acting silly ever since waking. But it could be fun to make Severus work for it.

“Oh, I don’t know. What’s in it for me?” he asked cheekily, a grin starting to form. He was just so happy! And relieved, and joyful, and...well, just happy.

Severus growled playfully, seeming slightly frustrated with his lover. The strong arms tightened for the briefest of moments before Harry’s mouth was assaulted by soft, light kisses. Any time Harry leaned forward to deepen them, Severus would pull further away until Harry pouted. Then the process would begin again. Kisses. Light, butterfly kisses. A tongue trying to swipe at thin lips. Retreat. And again.

“Oh all right already!” Harry cried in frustration, laughing gaily. “But only if you continue where you left off, you annoying tease!

At last, Harry opened his eyes. Abruptly, the laughter died in his throat and he pushed himself away from skin that had suddenly become chilled. Severus Snape was staring at him with cold, dead eyes. The eyes that Harry had seen on that terrible morning, only days before. Harry spared a few moments while propelling himself backwards to look over the rest of the older man’s body. Purple bruises decorated the thin chest just like they had when they’d found the body.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” the voice so much like his lover’s uttered.

And although there was emotion behind the words, none of it showed on the face that was as dead as the eyes staring back at him. To Harry’s horror, one of the pale arms reached for him and gripped his wrist tightly even as he tried desperately to get away. His legs wouldn’t move and now strong fingers held him fast. Harry yelled, in agony and terror, trying to free himself.

“No! Get away from me! Oh God, please! Let me wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

Harry’s eyes snapped open and upon feeling that he still couldn’t move his legs and that his wrist was still being held fast, he reacted. He swung blindly, squirming to get out of the death grip on his forearm.

“Harry, it was just a dream! Harry, it’s Ron! Harry—Oof!”

Harry was finally released and then realized that his legs were tangled in the sheets, which was why he hadn’t been able to move them. He stopped struggling to free himself, and with that came the clarity of his situation. Ron. He’d just hit Ron, who was sprawled on the floor beside Harry’s bed, massaging his jaw.

“Oh Merlin, Ron. I’m so sorry,” Harry wheezed, tears falling at the knowledge that he had dreamt it all.

He had made up the warm skin, the firm arms holding him gently, the heartbeat, all of it. It had been a dream and he had let it take hold of him until the very end, when the reality was suddenly much better. Because he had wanted to believe. Believe that Severus was alive, that he’d only been making it up, that Severus hadn’t died. Merlin. How was he supposed to do this again? Oh, right. Deny it. Be angry. Try to come to terms with it by arguing with his friends about what he could have done differently. Go through depression. Then accept it and move on. What a crock of shit.

Harry flung the covers off himself, feeling upset for more than one reason at the moment.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go get ready,” he muttered, clenching his fists when Ron gave him a look of understanding.

How could he possibly understand what Harry was going through? How could any of them? Because they all looked at Harry like he was some freak, some outsider that needed to be looked after, like some fucking invalid.

“What are you looking at?” he finally snapped, storming from the room.

---

Harry listened to the old, wizened wizard presiding over the funeral service with dulled ears. He could barely make out what the man was saying, and so his mind was drifting in and out of the proceedings. His anger from the morning had ebbed away at last and now he was filled with a sadness so deep, he could not seem to focus on much else. He could do this. He could. He just had to keep going, put one foot in front of the other. Make his speech. Shake peoples’ hands. Accept their condolences...Bury his lover. Merlin, how had it come to this?

Harry asked himself the question for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times he kept coming back to the events leading up to Severus’ death, he could not comprehend what had happened. Since those brutal moments after discovering that his lover had been killed, he had gone over the events again and again, trying to see where he could have done something. It did not matter that his friends and indeed the entire Order felt that there was nothing he could have done. It did not matter that he knew in his logical mind that there was nothing he could have done. It did not matter...because the result was still the same. He still felt responsible. He still felt that there was something he could have done. He still grieved.

Harry felt numb at the moment. He allowed his eyes to drift around the cemetery they were in. There were lots of people here. More than he had expected, really. But he probably should have seen this coming; what with the recent revelations about Severus being his lover, and a spy for the Order. Harry found it funny how the press had grasped that Severus and he had been secretly dating for the past three years as more important than the fact that the formerly believed dark wizard was actually an agent for the light. And so it was that the public found the first detail much more important than the second one. Because if Harry Potter had vouched for Severus Snape as a person, then who cared what the man had done with his life? Harry felt like smiling at this last thought, but could not make his facial muscles comply with him. If they had ever had a chance to ‘come out’ to their friends and the world at large, he would not have predicted this outcome, and nor would Severus. Harry remembered Severus’ thoughts on the matter quite clearly, in fact.

---

“Have you finally lost whatever sense is left in that bird’s-nest-infested hollow you call a head?”

Harry blinked at Severus in slight astonishment. Where did the man come up with his insults? Well, at least they knew that Severus hadn’t lost his touch with these things, despite what the man believed about Harry’s concerted efforts to ‘soften his edges’. Harry snickered at that thought, prompting his lover to glare at him in a way Harry hadn’t witnessed in at least a year—well, not directed his way, at any rate.

“What? I think it’s a valid question,” Harry commented while throwing his robes onto the ottoman in their room.

They were in Paris for the next two days. It was summer and since Severus hadn’t anticipated being summoned and Harry was able to get the time off, they had made the impromptu decision to take a mini-holiday. It was the first time they’d been able to make it away together. Of course, they’d had to apply heavy glamour charms and leave Britain at different times, but in Harry’s eyes the subterfuge was well worth it. Because he had two whole days and two whole nights to spend with his lover, and Harry planned on using every—single—moment to enjoy Severus.

However, being in the same place for so long and being unable to be themselves had brought up some feelings that he had thought long buried. When they had begun their relationship over two years ago, Harry had wanted to tell if not everyone, then at least their friends, how he felt about his new lover. But both he and Severus had agreed that it was best to keep it to themselves, especially because of the war and their roles in it, but also because they had wanted to see where their feelings would take them. After all, it had started off purely as sexual tension, then morphed into fucking each other’s brains out, then finally, after nearly a year of coping with their stress via sex, they’d both realized that there was much more to their feelings than originally thought. Of course, they still liked to make love until exhaustion, but now it was more than just sex and they lingered for as long as possible in their hideouts for the night. And Harry wanted more because of it. He sighed, thinking that if Ron were here and had been apprised of the situation, he’d tell Harry in no uncertain terms that Harry was acting like a girl.

Harry brought himself abruptly back to their current predicament when he heard his name being called. His eyes focused on his lover, and he smiled almost wistfully at the older man.

“Harry, we’ve discussed this before. I will not discuss it again,” Severus told him in no uncertain terms, turning down the duvet. Harry’s heart did a little flip in his chest while his stomach dropped abruptly.

“Is it so horrible a thought?” he asked the older man softly. “Is the idea of telling people so despicable to you that you won’t even consider it?”

“Do not put words in my mouth. You know that is not how I meant it,” Severus snapped with the same glare. That made two high-calibre glares in as many minutes; that had to be a new record for them since starting their relationship.

“Do I?” Harry enquired, and was horrified to hear his voice held a tremor.

He huffed angrily at himself, turning his back on his lover to busy himself with unpacking. It was for this reason that he did not see the other man pause in preparing their bed, nor did he see Severus’ face turn pained. By the time Harry turned to look at his silent partner, Severus had bottled his feelings inside and his face was a mask of indifference again. Harry looked into the dark eyes, finding no hint of emotion in them.

“Right. I’m being an idiot,” he muttered, moving towards the door to their room.

“Where are you going?” he heard Severus say to his back.

“To the bar downstairs. I could use a drink,” Harry explained in a hushed tone, starting to apply his glamour again.

---

Harry would have kept on day-dreaming about the past had it not been for a quick squeeze to his knee. He looked over to see who had disturbed him to find Hermione smiling at him wanly, and realized that a lot of people were looking at him. Speech time. Bugger.

Harry inhaled a shaky breath, managing a short but insincere smile to Hermione before he stood. The procession, which had been quiet and still up until now, seemed to grow restless with the promise of their purported saviour’s appearance. After all, this was why most of them had come, was it not? Harry was the reason for all of the hubbub; or rather, Harry’s relationship with Severus. No one felt the need to mourn the man that Harry had loved and continued to love. All anyone cared about was the fact that the great bat of the dungeons had somehow bewitched the most handsome bachelor in the Wizarding world to marry him. Instead of making him angry, the thought only made Harry feel more tired. His bones ached with exhaustion, almost as much as his heart ached with emotion.

With a sigh that was entirely too world-weary for a man of his age, Harry stepped up to the small podium that had been conjured for the occasion. After all, it wasn’t everyday that the saviour of the Wizarding world spoke at the funeral of the man he loved. Harry cleared his suddenly dry throat as he looked out at the procession. There were the faces he recognized in the front; the Weasleys and Hermione of course, as they were truly Harry’s family, the members of the Order, the entire staff of Hogwarts, some of his friends and co-workers from within the Ministry, a few people he knew from his school days, and even some faces he recognized from pictures of past students before his time. Then there were the strangers, people who had come out just to see what the circus was all about, his fans, his supporters, more Ministry people he did not recognize, some foreign wizards by the looks of things, and the Minister for Magic, whom Harry had only spoken a few brief words to once or twice. He closed his eyes on all of the people patiently staring at him and took a deep breath in.

“Thank you all for coming,” he managed in a voice that did not sound so pathetic as he had imagined it would. “It means a great deal. I am not so disillusioned to think that you are all here to say farewell to this particular man. That would be foolish to the extreme.” Harry paused as several people shifted a little guiltily at those comments. “However, seeing as you are here, I may as well try to impart to you how courageous a man Severus Snape was. How fair and true and loyal he was, and how much he sacrificed to help the good of the Wizarding World.

“Severus was a very private man, as all of you know. It was difficult to get to know him as a student, but even more so as an adult,” Harry chuckled weakly, looking down at the podium in remembrance. “He was often taciturn, cold, cruel, and described, quite frequently I might add, as the bat of the dungeons. I admit it because I used to think of him this way when I was a student.”

Harry heard a few chuckles around the crowd, and smiled despite the pain this was causing him. He needed to be strong, he needed to finish his speech. He needed to tell the world the story of the man they all owed so much.

“However, if you were ever lucky enough to get a glimpse of the inside of Severus Snape, which few ever were, then you know most of what I am about to tell you. Severus was a quiet boy, shy and insecure...”

And so it was that Harry told the assemblage about Severus Snape: as a boy, as a young man, and finally, the man that he had come to admire and eventually love. He told them of the friendship that Severus had had with Harry’s mother; of Severus’ abusive home life and the eventual death of his mother when Severus was but sixteen; of Severus calling Lily Evans a Mudblood and how that solidified his place with the Death Eaters. Harry told them of how Severus had saved his life many times in school and many more since then. He told them about the countless lives Severus had saved, of the raids he had prevented, and finally, about Severus’ and Harry’s plans for the future.

“You know, he never truly asked me to marry him outright. We managed to go on a mini-holiday in France a few months back now, and we had a row. I wanted to be able to tell our very close mutual friends about us, however, as the calm and rational partner of the relationship, Severus reminded me in quite the brutal fashion that we wouldn’t be able to come out with him spying on Voldemort.”

Several exclamations rose from the crowd at the use of Voldemort’s name, but Harry calmly cleared his throat, shuffled the pages in front of him, and waited for the crowd to calm down. He had never understood their fear of the name before and he did not plan on indulging them at every turn just because they did not like to hear it.

“As the less rational and perhaps more emotional partner in our relationship,” Harry began, only to smile wanly at the people who tittered quietly. Harry took the moment to collect his thoughts.

---

“Come here.”

“What? Want to give me a shake and tell me how stupid I’m being?” Harry demanded in a strained voice.

Damn. His emotions were getting the best of him and he didn’t want Severus as a witness. He wanted to go downstairs, knock back a few shots of whiskey, and drown out the voices in his head telling him that of course Severus didn’t want to tell anyone, that Harry was just a child, that Harry was useless and of course Severus wouldn’t want to have anyone know about them.

“Harry.” Softly. “Please. Come here.”

Harry froze. Although unwilling to concede in their fight, he couldn’t refuse a direct plea. They were so rare, after all, especially coming from this man. This man who was taciturn, and cruel, and—

“I love you.”

—And just about the most damned confusing man in the entire world. Harry stopped readjusting his nose to fit his now proportionately larger features, causing the most amusing sight of one nostril being twice as large as the other one. Harry noticed none of his glamour work. All he could do was stare in the mirror at the face of his lover. The face that was desperate, and pleading, and completely and utterly open for the first time that Harry could ever remember. Because even though they had been dating for the past twenty-six months, Harry had never, ever, seen so much clear emotion on the other man’s features. His eyes alone were the most pained and soulful creatures Harry had ever known. Even now, the features were shifting back to closed, the eyes blank as an artist’s canvas once more, and Severus was looking away from Harry’s own searching green eyes.

“I apologize. I should not—”

“What did you say?” choked Harry, dropping his hands—one still grasping his wand—to clutch at the desk he suddenly felt the great need to lean upon.

“I said I apologize,” Severus gritted out impatiently, some fire lighting in those black depths as they looked up once more.

“No. Before that,” Harry managed with a slight whine to his tone.

The blank face was back. Severus clearly did not know what to make of this new tone, nor of the fact that Harry was now staring so intensely at him that he was beginning to feel he should never have spoken that deepest, darkest of secrets. However...

“I said...I said I love you,” Severus struggled to push out of a suddenly very dry mouth.

Severus’ eyes widened as Harry turned abruptly to stare directly at him this time.

“Again.”

“Pardon me?”

“Say it again,” Harry implored.

Hope began to bloom in Severus’ chest, hope that his feelings may not be unwelcome, that they may even be returned. He tried not to smile as he slowly walked towards where his lover was standing.

“I’d much rather show you,” Severus uttered slowly, smiling slightly as he reached Harry. “But first. Would you please remove that dreadful attempt at a glamour?”

Harry looked taken aback by the request and turned briefly to look at himself in the mirror before turning his gaze back to Severus. For a moment, they both said nothing.

“It is rather terrible, isn’t it?” Harry whispered with a blank expression. Severus nodded, equally unreadable, as Harry waved his wand to remove the dreadful features.

Very slowly, as though he was expecting Harry to react like a skittish animal, Severus brought his hands to Harry’s face. He stroked his fingers lightly over Harry’s cheekbones, and as the younger man closed his eyes, over Harry’s eyelids, forehead, nose, and finally, his lips. Before Harry could react beyond a sharp intake of breath, Severus leaned forward and kissed him.

Harry couldn’t believe it. Severus Snape—THE Severus Snape, cold, heartless bastard, and general arsehole—had just said that he loved Harry. Harry couldn’t keep this man straight. One minute they were arguing and Harry felt so insignificant and unwanted, and the next...well. Severus was going to be the death of him!

But he didn’t really want to concentrate on that fact right then. He was much too enamoured with the way Severus’s lips were brushing against his own. Softly. Wetly. Lovingly. As though Harry were the most precious piece of glass and Severus was trying to keep him from breaking apart into thousands of shards. Harry rather felt that this moment could shatter if they weren’t careful, and spared a thought to be grateful for the gentle sensations. One of Severus’ hands left Harry’s face, but that was all right. He compensated for the loss of contact by leaning more carefully into his lover, and Harry experienced the feather-light and intensely pleasurable feeling of Severus’ hair brushing softly against his cheek instead.

Harry groaned lightly as the older man’s tongue finally swept across the seam of his lips, just barely tasting. He thought he may have uttered a ‘please’ against the lips so close to his own, because next thing he knew, Severus’ tongue was caressing his own in a deep and gentle kiss. Harry’s head spun from all of the feelings coursing through him. His heart was swelling with every passing moment, it seemed, and though his eyes were closed, he could feel tears pooling there. Relief coursed through him in droves, that he was not the only one who felt this way, that Severus did care for him beyond his body. Hope bloomed in Harry’s chest at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, they could get through this bloody war together. And by god, the man could kiss! Harry’s heart was fluttering just thinking about it as it happened.

And suddenly, Harry felt a new sensation from the admittedly great feeling of Severus’ mouth against his own. Severus was taking his left hand in his own. Even though he had done it countless times before, there was something different about this time, something different about the feel of Severus’ fingers...no, just the one finger. Harry wanted to pull back to see for himself what had changed, but Severus’ other hand, the one still on his face, directed Harry’s mouth to stay where it was and Harry gladly complied, despite his curiosity.

“Slide your hand against mine,” Severus breathed, breaking away from Harry only briefly before delving back in for another breathtaking kiss.

Harry’s brows furrowed, still curious, but intent only on the way in which Severus’ mouth was plundering his own. He distractedly did as asked, noting that something was sliding down Severus’ finger. Instinct took over and he caught the thing before it could fall to the ground. He held it in his palm, but it did not quite register yet what the object was as he brought the hand holding it to curl around Severus’ neck. His fingers played with the object, memorizing the heavy feel of it and then the shape. Strange, but it felt like a ring...

Instantly, Harry stopped kissing his lover, but allowed Severus’ lips to continue brushing oh so carefully against his own. And Severus was being careful. Too careful. Almost as though he was trying to soften a blow that was inevitably aimed for his head. Almost as though he was frightened. And then it all made sense.
With a gasp, Harry broke away from the older man, clutching at his neck and back almost desperately. He finally noticed that Severus was hanging onto him in much the same manner, as though afraid that Harry was going to leap out of his arms.

“Oh,” Harry sighed breathlessly, trying to keep his voice under control. He felt like he could burst at any moment, his joy was so profound. “Oh, Severus. Please...please tell me that this is what I think it is.”

Despite the severity of the moment, Severus’ lips twitched in an attempt at humour, but quickly went back to the straight—if slightly kiss-swollen—lines they had been. He stared into Harry’s face, into Harry’s eyes, looking as though he was searching for all of the answers to life’s secrets in that gaze.

“What do you think it means?” he asked quietly, voice so soft and timid. Harry had never heard such a thing from this man. It was that tone, ultimately, that decided him. If Severus—good, brave, courageous Severus—could not bring himself to say the words, then Harry would just have to say them for him.

“Is this an engagement ring?” Harry whispered, looking into blank, inscrutable black eyes.

A pause. Too long. Harry was beginning to think he’d misinterpreted the signs, that he was going to be ridiculed and laughed at, that he was—

A nod. Small and barely there. But a form of assent. Severus had just asked Harry to marry him. Well, not in so many words, of course, but who really needed to hear those anyway?

Harry looked away, down between their bodies, as he brought his free hand around to play with the buttons on Severus’ shirt-front. It was not meant to inflame, or tease, of any of the like. He wanted to hide the shit-eating grin that had stolen across his features. He couldn’t let Severus see what an idiot he had become in the space of a minute. Once he felt like he was in control of his emotions once again, Harry grabbed for Severus’ own hand and brought it up to his lips. He placed a reverent kiss to the slightly bony knuckles and looked up again into Severus’ face.

“Well,” he murmured, bending to place another unhurried kiss to his lover’s hand. He kept his tone light and airy as he continued: “I suppose I’ll have to say yes, then. If that’s all right with you.”

Harry spared a moment to drop Severus’ hand and then slid what he could now see was Severus’ family ring onto his left ring finger. The room was so deathly silent and Severus so still that Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do or say. He looked up into his lover’s face, his brow furrowing in apprehension at the completely blank facade Severus was displaying. And then a shift.

With a shouted ‘Yes!’ of triumph, Severus scooped Harry up into his arms. Harry, going along with him, jumped up and wrapped strong thighs around his lover’s—correction, his fiancé’s—waist. And then they were both laughing, Harry almost hysterically and Severus with such ecstatic joy that Harry felt like passing out from happiness

They made love madly, frantically that night. Every touch of skin was something new, something that they were sharing in a completely different way from before. Because now they knew. Now they knew that they would spend the rest of their lives trying to make one another happy. And to think: not an hour ago they were arguing over something as insignificant as letting their friends know about them. Unbelievable.

---

Harry smiled wanly, his emotions getting the better of him after retelling the story of his and Severus’ engagement. He was almost done now. And then he could say his goodbyes and put his lover to rest for the last time. He inhaled shakily, running a hand through flyaway hair.

“I loved him. Very much,” Harry told the assemblage of now silent people, his voice cracking. “And he loved me back. He always spoke of what our lives would be like after the war. He seldom allowed himself to hope, but for that, I believe he was eternally hopeful. So, as my promise to him—to that hope that he held so dear—I will fight. I will fight for the life he wanted. I will fight for the lives of those he loved. I will fight for all the people in the world. I will fight for those people and those they hold dear. I will fight. Because he would have wanted me to. And because I owe him as much for loving me so.”

Harry had to take a break as his tears finally caught hold of him once more. He swallowed convulsively, looking at the podium as though it would give him strength.

“So it is goodbye for now. My lover, my heart, my best friend,” he choked out, looking now at the casket that held Severus’ body. It was closed, as Harry couldn’t have born seeing the dead body again. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for saving me. But most of all, thank you for sacrificing everything for our world. I miss you. And I will always love you.”

---

WitchbladeHell: You made me laugh with delight at your review. I am so pleased that you think I can so effectively express the characters' emotions. Thank you so much for saying so :) And then you made me laugh about your comment of reading even if Severus turned out to be truly dead. I certainly hope you continue reading!

Lucy: Thank you very much for your review, I hope you continue reading and enjoying the story!