Ashes of Armageddon

When Severus returned home to Spinner's End, he instantly began to regret everything – absolutely everything.



Harry had accepted him with kindness and gentleness; Severus responded with spite and scorn, as always. He should have been grateful to simply receive what was given to him and hope for the best. Just what did he think he was, setting conditions, and making demands? He was ready to crawl back and beg forgiveness the next morning, but somehow, he managed not to.



After his spiteful tantrum, he hadn't expected to hear from Harry again, but two days later he received an owl from Harry.



“I miss you terribly. I have been reading on Covenants. It seems complicated – please let me know if you have any specifics in mind. I hope we are still on to meet in two weeks?”



Relief flooded him. He looked around to make sure the office door was closed and nobody could witness his actions: he kissed the letter before slipping it into the desk.



The two weeks dragged on and on, and seemed longer than the time he had spent in Azkaban, awaiting his death sentence.



Eventually, on Friday night, two days before the two weeks' deadline had elapsed, Severus could no longer take the pressure of waiting. He lingered in the office until late at night, finishing up the paperwork he had neglected for the last month, and debating the wisdom of going to see Harry two days early. Eventually, the pure, almost physical need for the contact overruled any common sense, and he stepped into the Floo, to emerge a second later in Harry's cabin.



Upon his arrival, Severus looked around. Harry's bookshelves had been rearranged. The Herbology volumes, and DADA books were on the floor in a careless pile. The shelves that previously had been occupied by them now contained new books and scrolls. Severus came up to the shelf to take a look at the new reading materials. They were books on slave-bonds, contemporary writings and a few ancient volumes that Severus had only heard of before. He rose an eyebrow as he browsed through them. It must have cost Harry a small fortune to purchase them all, he thought, and more than a small fortune to have found and purchased them on such a short notice.



Severus cast a look at Harry's desk: it was littered with scrolls, all in horrible disarray.



It was quiet in the cabin, unusually so, and the only sound that broke the silence was measured, steady breathing. Severus looked at Harry's bed and saw him. Harry's eyes were tightly shut, and from the looks of it, he had fallen asleep while reading, one of the volumes on slave-bonds resting by his pillow.



At the moment, there could be no greater proof that Harry was indeed taking him and his requests seriously, whether they were phrased as pleas, or petulant, spiteful ultimatums. Severus walked over to Harry's bed, and leaned over the young man's sleeping form, pressing a tentative kiss to Harry's forehead. The green eyes opened instantly, and a split-second later, a genuine smile was born on Harry's lips. Severus barely managed to conceal his surprise when Harry threw his arms around him, and nudged him to join him in the bed next to him.



The urge to beg forgiveness for his outburst was growing, and Severus opened his mouth to say something, but Harry's finger pressed to his lips as soon as Harry saw the expression on his face.



“Whatever you say now, don't even think of apologizing,” Harry warned him. “You had every right to be angry, or to question me. And I'm glad you did.”



“You are?” Severus managed to say. Harry's hands snagged his waist, and guided him to sit on top, straddling Harry's waist.



“Of course,” Harry assured him. “I need to know when I've crossed a line, or when I have done wrong by you. I want to know. Every time. All right?”



“Fine,” Severus agreed, looking down at him, still unbelievably embarrassed.



Harry moved to sit up, leaning back on his elbows.



“I am two days early,” Severus said awkwardly.



“Not in my book,” Harry said, taking a hold of his hands. Their fingers locked together. “I am sorry,” Harry offered suddenly.



“You? For what?” Severus could not conceal his surprise.



“For not learning all of this,” Harry nodded to the book still resting by his pillow, “sooner. I never realized how powerful this bond was. How strong it could be in wrong hands. It's benign and harmless when the Master is benevolent and does not wish to impose on the servant, but in a matter of speaking, we've been sitting on top of an atomic bomb that could have gone off any moment, if I had made a wrong move.”



“But you haven't,” Severus interrupted. “In the last three and a half years, you have not coerced me or used the bond to control me in any way. Even though you could have done so easily.”



Harry nodded thoughtfully, looking a little relieved by that reassurance.



“Can I ask you something?” Harry said. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to...”



“What is it?”



“Well. You' had mentioned that you didn't mind this type of bond. That... it was fine. But – I can tell that you are angry, and resentful at least some of the time.” Harry paused for a moment, and then, completed the inquiry: “I suppose my question is : did you mind it?”



Severus bowed his head, and considered the question dutifully.



His bond to Albus Dumbledore had been there for a long time, and for the most part, Severus was used to it, much the same way as one is used to having eyes, or ears. The bond, in its neutral state, was completely non coercive - to the point where he had not been aware of its presence on a daily basis. The only times he had become aware of it, was when The Dark Lord had attempted to overwhelm him and bend him to his own will. In those times, the bond awakened, and Severus held on to it as his life-line. It was a potent ongoing connection to the most powerful wizard alive, an open conduit to tap into his Master's power and protection; and if anything, Severus had been immensely grateful for it, in his more lucid moments.



However,from time to time, Severus found himself unnerved by the raw, intense power of the bond. It was never used against him, but it was always there, an unspoken, subtle threat, a dormant possibility of a disaster. What if something went wrong? Would he end up as a mere puppet, his strings pulled by the two most powerful wizards in the world? Would he cease being human altogether, and become nothing more than an empty shell, devoid of his own will?



Albus had noticed him sulking and withdrawing, without a word of explanation or a single personal request.



“Would you like a covenant?” Albus had asked him then, cornering him in his dungeons.



“What is that?” Severus asked, unsure that he wanted to hear the answer.



“A covenant is a way to place restrictions on the slave-bond,” Albus explained, without mincing words for once. “The Master can make a pledge that would prevent him from taking advantage of the slave-bond, if the servant has ... concerns. The servant has an option of naming a Guardian, someone who would look out for his interests, someone who would be magically alerted, should the Master breach the said covenant.”



Concerns? Severus shrugged indifferently. He had none, or to be exact, none that would not pale in comparison to the memory of his crime, and the consequences of it. And then, more to the point, whom could Severus name as a Guardian, without exposing their private bond?



“Poppy would be an excellent Guardian,” Albus mused, as if reading his thoughts. “She respects you.”



“She does,” Severus agreed. “And I don't want that change. The answer is no. I don't want a bloody covenant. What I really want is for the war to be over.”



Albus nodded thoughtfully. “And then?”



“And then, as soon as you no longer need me, we will part ways, as quickly and amicably as humanly possible.”



“I see,” Albus mused. “Well then. Should you change your mind...”



Severus glared at him. “I do not change my mind, Albus. You should know by now that my life, my freedoms, my career, or my physical integrity mean nothing to me, in the light of the war we find ourselves in , and in view of my crime, the consequences of which we are still attempting to rectify. What could you possibly require of me, that I could not bear?”



Severus snapped out of the daze of old memories, when he realized that Harry was staring at him quizzically, expecting an answer.



“I did not mind it then,” Severus said finally. “During the war, it was helpful. Albus never abused it, in fact, he had never used it once. He never controlled me through it. Everything I did on his request, was of my own free will. The bond remained dormant and neutral the entire time; and it was only at work when I needed it. It was the only thing that had the power to anchor me, when the Dark Lord had insinuated himself into my mind through the Dark Mark.”



“I can see how it was useful,” Harry agreed. “But in all honesty I don't see how you could have just ... gone through years of having it, without minding, without resenting it in some way.”



Severus sighed slightly. “I didn't mind it then,” he repeated honestly. “As for how, or why - I suppose,” he finished reluctantly, “after all that I had done, I didn't think I had the right to mind. Even now, when I dare to be honest with myself, I still don't think that I have any right to resent it.”



He shuddered slightly when Harry's fingers squeezed his hands almost painfully.



“Why?” Harry demanded.



“You know why,” Severus said wearily, not wanting to belabor the obvious.



“Passing of Trelawney's prophecy,” Harry said thoughtfully. It was not quite a question. Severus' body was rigid with tension, and he began to withdraw, but Harry's hands stayed him.



“That was a long time ago,” Harry said evenly. “You can't go on tormenting yourself for that. That's no way to live.”



Severus shrugged resignedly. That single error had colored his entire life for the past twenty-five years to such extent, that it no longer seemed like self-torment to think along those lines. What else could he do? He lifted his eyes, to find Harry staring at him thoughtfully and piercingly, as if challenging him to do something else.



He could ask forgiveness, Severus thought – but who, in their right mind, would be able to grant forgiveness for the death of their parents, or for being turned into a receptacle of the Dark Lord's soul-fragment? The mere idea of being forgiven for something like that was preposterous. Severus opened his mouth to say exactly that, but something snapped inside. Even though such an audacious plea was nearly certain to be rejected, unless he made it, Severus would always wonder where he stood with his lover and Master.



“Forgive me.” The two words fell off his lips of their own accord, and the rest of the utterance died in his throat.



A brief silence followed, no longer than a few seconds, but in those seconds, he was braced for anything, from an angry outburst, to cold rejection.



Nothing of the sort followed. Harry stared at him with absolute calm, and said quietly:



“Go on.”



The serene cruelty of that simple admonition shook him to the core. It was almost physically painful to recount the depth of his crime, but he did so anyway, hoping that at the very least, his complete confession would deliver a measure of satisfaction for Harry.



“For passing Trelawney's prophecy to the Dark Lord and causing your parent's death. For causing you to become the Dark Lord's Horcrux, for causing you to bear his soul-fragment for twenty-two years, in one form or another. For you living like this... without your wife, and your son nearby. For your friends who became damaged through it all. For you having memories that are not your fault, or your responsibility.”



Harry looked at him thoughtfully, and a little sadly, even as Harry's hands rested on Severus' shoulders.



“Well,” Harry said in a soft voice, “that's quite a way to tell your story.”



Severus winced in spite of himself. He might have thought those words to be accusatory, if not for Harry's voice breaking as he spoke.



“Now let me tell you what I think,” Harry continued gently, without waiting another second. “I think there's nothing to forgive.”



Severus stared at him, more astonished than anything else.



“You were a double agent during the first war,” Harry said calmly. “Dumbledore knew that you were your own man, and that he was playing with fire in employing your services, but apparently, he had decided it was worth the risk. You were not honor-bound to our side. You had no reason to be. Who did you really know on the side of Light? The people who nearly got you killed as a practical joke, or the Headmaster who favored them? Of course you passed the prophecy to Voldemort. You did what any double agent would have done. But then, when you had found out what it meant, you set out to help us. You told Dumbledore, even though doing so put you at terrible risk. You were pleading not only for the life of your friend, but also for the life of your enemy, and a child that you'd never met.” Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Dumbledore should have taken your warning, thanked you, and let you go back to your life. Instead, he took it upon himself to manipulate you, shame you and brow-beat you into making amends, and changing loyalties.”



Severus sighed a little, his mind reeling from Harry's words. “He was harsh, but not unfair,” Severus protested almost automatically. “And - he did not know it then, but he did not need to do that. I was ready to join his side at that point, without his... admonition. By that point, it had gone too far for me to continue playing both sides.”



“Dumbledore still should not have treated you the way he did,” Harry said fiercely. “As far as your own actions go, I say there's nothing to forgive.” Harry's stern expression softened slightly. “You were your own man, muddling along like the rest of them, trying to find your own way; and then, when you'd made a mistake, you sold your soul to the devil to make amends. There's nothing that merits blame, or forgiveness. It's just life. Do you understand that?”



Severus stared down, barely able to comprehend what just happened. Somehow, Harry took his entire life-story and re-told it in a new way, granting an understanding and acceptance that he had never believed possible.



Harry smiled just a little and drew Severus into the tightest embrace of his life. He could barely breathe in Harry's grip, but he did not mind at all, as he held back with almost equivalent fury, still unable to comprehend the complete absolution granted to him.



When Harry released him from the embrace, he almost shuddered at the loss.



As if suddenly remembering something, Harry got up, and walked over to his desk, and proceeded to look for something.



Severus followed him almost automatically, and sat on a chair across from him, watching him intently.



Eventually, Harry pulled out something flat and rectangular, wrapped in shiny silver gift paper.



“What is it?” Severus asked.



Harry smiled wistfully. “It's stupid. I wrapped it three years ago. Just never had the nerve to actually send it to you, or give it to you.”



Severus grasped the object and tore through the paper, revealing the old, faded photograph of the members of the original Order of the Phoenix: the photograph that he had touched back at Godric's Hollow, earning himself a physical reprimand for his presumption. He looked at their faces again: Moody, Potters, Black, Lupin, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Longbottoms... The artifact of the past laid in his hands, both summoning old memories, and conveying comfort and forgiveness.



“Harry - you shouldn't,” Severus said finally. “Your godfather gave it to you, didn't he?”



Sirius Black would be spinning in his grave by now, if he had one, Severus had no doubt of that. But if the same thought had occurred to Harry, he did not appear to be bothered by it.



“You shouldn't part with it,” Severus insisted, placing the picture back on the desk, and with a trembling hand, pushing it back towards Harry.



Harry smiled wryly, and slid the picture back to him. “I'm kind of hoping I won't,” Harry said with seemingly forced lightheartedness. “I still keep thinking, maybe one day you'll decide to stay with me.”





...To Be Continued...



Author's Note: Thank you all for your encouragement. I have no plans to discontinue the story – but it's taking a bit longer to write Book 2, for obvious reasons.. It's hard to write the reconnection in a way that would be believable to me.



For those of you who've been asking, how many more chapters – anywhere between 15 and 20 chapters. There is a plot here, somewhere, I swear ... *looks for plot* - oh yeah, there it is. It got buried under all the UST. :-)



So... drop me a note, let me know what you think so far.



Until next time!



Em W.