Secret

A dark figure appeared suddenly in the room, listening intently to the conversation taking place before it. The decrepit place looked like it was on its last leg and the figure wondered briefly if it would hold up until the duty was done. The figure looked out into the room proper and found an almost comical sight. The white serpentine visage of a one Tom Riddle, otherwise known as Voldemort, was pulled back into a gruesome smile. His ruby eyes sported a hungry glow as they surveyed his captive, who was kneeling at his feet.
Hands bound behind his back, body shivering in his tattered clothes, the young man crouched, his head bowed in submission. He was strong, lithe muscles defined through the ripped jeans and a ratty jumper. The slight tensing of the prisoner's shoulders was all that marked the hooded figure's appearance. Voldemort foolishly paid the shadows no mind.
“Love.” The hissing voice of Voldemort spat, the sound echoing off of the stone walls of the dungeon like room. “Such a cripling emotion. It's shocking how such a simple thing could wreak such havoc.” Silence met his declaration but the figure could practically see the cogs working in the captive's brain. “Suposedly, it's the most powerful emotion in the world.” Tom chuckled disbelievingly at his own words. “It is.” The captive whispered faintly. Unfortunately Voldemort heard and was not happy with the quiet rebuttal.
“How then, I wonder, does it make one so weak?” He asked quietly in reply, triumph lighting his bloody eyes. “How is it that one believed to be so strong...” He fisted the silky raven hair of his prisoner, pulling the tan face up, vibrant green eyes meeting his own. “Ends up on his knees?” He hissed into the face of Harry Potter. But Harry's eyes weren't on Voldemort's. They were connected with the gaze of the cloaked figure, just over Tom's shoulder. Tom, however, took little notice of Harry's distraction, even as the captive responded to the taunts of his most hated enemy.
“Love doesn't make you weak, Tom.” Voldemort hissed at the name but Harry continued. “Not unless it's unrequited. Love given and received is truly...magical.” Harry's eyes flicked to Voldemort's on the last word, holding his gaze. Voldemort tried to break into his mind, but felt the familiar, gentle but firm push back. He would have to scold Severus for teaching the boy so well. Voldemort smiled sickly, his inhuman features strangely stretched as a question popped into his head. “And who, pray tell, in the midst of choas has caught the attention of Boy Wonder?” Voldemort asked snidely, noting how Harry's eyes shot back to the spot behind him.
Tom was about to turn and find out what exactly was so interesting when the answer to his question came. The lips of The Boy Who Lived never parted as the word echoed in the darkness. “Me.” The voice was cold, devoid of emotion, and entirely too familiar. Voldemort's eyes flicked to the side, his hand reaching for his wand. The recognition was barely registered on his face before vibrant green light engulfed the room and Lord Voldemort died in a puff of green smoke.
Severus Snape strode gracefully out of the shadows, pushing his hood back as he came, his eyes on the spot where his old master had vanished. His gaze shot to Harry's, his eyes overcome with raw emotion no one had ever seen there. Relief, happiness, wonder, and last but not least, love. “Sev'rus, you...ugh, came.” His lover's slurred speech shook Severus out of his daze and he kneeled down next to the obviously tired man. Severus reached out and started to assess the damage, his hand on Harry's cheek to reassure him as he spoke.
“I debated leaving you here to suffer, but you made such a pretty speech that, what can I say, I was touched.” Severus drawled, rolling his eyes at Harry's weak giggle. He finished his inspection, finding nothing wrong with the boy other than a serious magical drain, and stood up. He hauled his now unbound lover to his feet and pulled the boy close, breathing a sigh of relief that he was unharmed. “Ever the romantic, eh Sev?” Harry asked breathlessly, a wicked smile on his perfect lips. Severus spared his love a glare before responding as he pulled away and straightened his robes.
“Yes and you're still a hero.” Harry chuckled lightly in agreement as Severus took a Portkey from his robe pocket. “Now that we have re-established our respective roles, perhaps we can cease dallying and return to...relative safety?” Severus asked acidly, his eyebrow raised. Harry nodded as he fought laughter. Severus rolled his eyes and waited for Harry to compose himself. “Of course, Severus, we may leave.” Harry replied finally, an innocent smile on his face. “Good. Then let us be off.” Severus shifted them so that he was holding onto Harry to stabalize him and took out his wand.
“Yeah, I could so with food, a shag, and a nap, in that order.” Severus looked down at his lover, a promise in his eyes and spat, “We'll see, brat.” Harry grinned like an idoit all the way back to the dungeons of Hogwarts.