|snarrymod (snarrymod) wrote in snarry_games,|
@ 2007-05-22 14:50:00
Original poster: snarrymod
Title: Our Sanctuary
Author: thewenchywiccan (Sarah)
Team: Post War
Genre(s): Angst & Romance
Warnings: Drag mouse over space if you wish to know: * Harry is 17 in this fic. *
Word Count: 4700 +/-
A/N : It's not much at all, but I hope you enjoy. Thanks very much to Auntie Min minuial_nuwing and ALL of my lovely Team Postwar Members, for the BETA.
Disclaimer: For Non-Profit, Entertainment Only.
Summary: The last battle leaves behind a broken Boy Who Lived.
Harry stood alone. Harsh, cold wind whipped through his hair, making his scar completely visible. Feeling utterly drained in both mind and body, he let himself drop heavily to the ground, exhaustion overcoming him. He was not able yet to fully comprehend the magnitude of what he had just done.
It was enough to make history just once in a life, but it had happened again. He didn't want to be a hero. He didn't want the tasks thrust upon him. All he had done was survive. That was all. Not because of a blood lust, or desire for glory. But because of a simple love of life, for his friends and family, and his own future. It had taken so damn much.
He had fully expected that he would not live to see this day. He had never thought about what he would do, what would happen if he did live. Such thoughts rarely crossed his mind. Quite frankly, Harry didn‘t care. All that mattered was the safety of his loved ones, and the utter destruction of that murderous fiend and everyone foolish enough to make a stand with him.
And now, he would be hailed as a hero. Not those who had died with him. For him.
Harry spit viciously in the direction of the once and never again future Dark Lord, now a pile of dust blowing away on the same breeze that had just flitted through Harry's hair. Laying down on his back, uncaring of the unforgiving ground beneath him, Harry closed his eyes, and thought of his parents, Sirius, and Remus, all of his friends affected by this damnable war. He had not asked for any of this, but he had dealt with it all.. It was not through his own personal strength, but his friends and family who had helped him, and did not let him give up..
Lazily opening one eye, he observed the sky quickly turning from the darkest black and blue to warm shades of purple, pink, orange, and red. The first dawn ever, in which it would be assured Voldemort and his slime would never taint the world again. No more friends or family lost to him. No more curses or battles. No more fear or blood. But tears? Oh, there was time enough for tears now, and giving an almost hysterical laugh, Harry felt the first, hot, salty tear run its course down his face. He couldn't help it, once that laugh broke free, he laughed like a madman until it hurt his entire body to do so, until the laughter finally turned into sobbing. Clutching his stomach, he wheezed and gasped for air, still sobbing, his body twitching and convulsing, slowly curling into a fetal position.
The rising sun worsened Harry's mood. Today was the first day he would face on his own. How would he live in a world where he no longer served a purpose? What was left for Harry now? Where would he go and what would he do? Who could find a use for Harry Bloody Potter - The Boy Who Lived - and now the Boy Who Killed.
He had few friends and family left. He could not, would not, impose upon them any more, even though he was sure they would insist he do just that. He had always had little time for romantic entanglements, and those he did engage in went quickly awry.
Suddenly, a thought jarred him. He wanted, no, needed to be away from this place. From the world, from magic, and from people, regardless if they were wizarding folk or not, He wanted to be alone. His parents had left him with funds. It would be very easy for him to buy some place in the middle of nowhere and slip quietly and comfortably into oblivion. Yes, that was what he wanted. That was his purpose now, to slip away.
He tried to sit up, to put his plan in to action. To do something, anything, as normal as possible, but found he did not have the energy. No matter how hard he tried and strained and cursed and shouted, he could not move or sit up at all. He tried randomly yelling spells, hoping to undo whatever jinx, curse, or voodoo was cast on him.
After several frustrated moments of trying all the obvious spells, he gave up, and turned his attention to the now forbidding sky looming over him. Where the sun had been rising moments ago, heavy, low gray clouds had swept in, as if to mirror his emotions.
He could smell rain in the air now that he thought on it. The wind was colder, and he knew it would not be long before the water began to pour. He tried once more to get up, but still could not manage it. Finally he gave up and clutching his wand, aiming it skyward, closed his eyes tight, and with all of his remaining strength, shouted "PERICULUM" and prayed that what he had just done was not the most idiotic course of action he'd ever taken.
Harry lay there, tense, hardly daring to breathe, in case that simple act would shatter any chance he had of being rescued. Would anyone remember him? Think to come for him? Want to help him, now that Voldemort was gone and Harry had served his purpose? Or was he now disposable? Nameless? To be erased like so much chalk on a blackboard. He let out the shuddering breath that he had been holding, and a tear slid down his cheek, clearing a straight path down his dirty skin.
He had never felt more alone then he did at that very moment in time. His whole body ached, especially his chest. He was surprised he was able to draw breath. His vision was blurred and he wanted to wail in despair. Was this to be his end? Dying in battle he could handle, but being alone and helpless? Letting out a shuddering breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for whatever would happen next. Seconds seemed like hours, and his pulse pounded loudly in his ears.
Something in Harry must have given up, because he was soon in a deep, restful, dreamless sleep. He was not aware when a tall pale man with shoulder length black hair and a beak like nose approached him, appearing as if from the early morning mist itself. Severus knelt down beside him and brushed the hair off of his forehead. He gently picked up Harry and held him tightly against his chest. Severus decided the best course of action at the moment would be to return home. So he carried Harry to safety via a Portkey (in this case an actual antique Iron key), to his own home. Harry did not protest as he was laid on the cheerful flannel covered bed in Severus' otherwise Spartan bedroom.
Professor Severus Snape, however, was very awake, very aware, and none too pleased that the Boy That Lived was sleeping like the dead in his own bedroom. With a sigh, he covered up the boy. Of all the people he had ever expected to have in his bed, Harry Potter was not one of them. But he was here now, and there was nothing for it. There was obviously something very wrong with Harry. And as much as his conscious bothered him, he could not ignore it and walk away. Severus sat gently on the edge of the bed and considered the best course of action for both of them. Harry’s skin was pale beneath the dirt covering him. Severus had no idea just how long the boy had been unconscious. The best course would be to wake the boy, get him cleaned up and fed, and rested. Any other issues could be dealt with later as they arose.
With a sigh, he resigned himself to the tasks before him. This would not be easy for Harry, or for himself. Just before the battle, Severus had been hit with a revelation, backed with all the force of a tsunami. The Order had all been in the headquarters, trying to get what rest they could find. Everyone had retired. Everyone except Harry, who was staring out the kitchen window and into nothingness. Severus had come in to the kitchen in hopes of finding the trappings for a cup of tea. But upon seeing Harry, he could not find the heart to disturb the boy and his thoughts, whatever they were. He backed up into the doorway a tiny bit and silently considered The Boy Who Lived.
At seventeen, Harry was only beginning to come into himself as a man. His shoulders were finally filling out. His slim waist tapered nicely to narrow hips, as evidenced by his somewhat tight fitting Muggle tee-shirt and jeans. His hands were slightly callused. His voice had pleasantly deepened. His eyes, however, were haunted now. But his hair remained the same familiar wreck it had always been. Harry was quick in mind and body. Loyal. Brave. Stubborn. A Gryffindor if there ever was one. He was kind, and, in some ways, wise and strong. Severus did not even want to start in on how naive and temperamental Harry could sometimes be.
Still, all in all, Severus knew well that there were much worse people in the world than young Harry Potter. In fact, if he were free to indulge in romantic entanglements, Harry might be just the sort of person Severus might consider. Severus blanched at that sudden thought. Since when did he equate Harry Potter with a romantic entanglement!? He could be the boy's FATHER for Merlin's sake!! With an internal groan, Severus rubbed at his temple, and chalked such thoughts up to being the product of pure physical lust and need. It had been quite a while since Severus had shared himself with another. Such thoughts must be a product of that. Yes. Severus had barely turned around, fully intending to go back upstairs to his room and attempt to get some rest, when Harry became aware of him.
"I am scared, Professor," Harry said quietly.
"You would be an even bigger fool than I thought if you were not, Potter," Snape answered quietly, sitting down at the kitchen table, regarding the boy once again.
Harry turned to face his former professor.
"I haven’t admitted that to anyone," Harry said, sitting down across from Severus. His gaze fixed on the table as if it were a fascinating object of interest. "What do you think will happen, Professor?" Harry asked.
Severus contemplated the boy's question before opting for an honest answer.
"I do not know, Potter. But whatever happens, it will be monumental. The world will not go on as it is now. It seems a wise and prophetic thing to say, but it is not. It is just sense," Severus replied.
Harry gave a tiny, forced smile.
"Do you realize this is the first civil conversation we have ever had, Professor?"
Severus could not help but give a small smirk in response.
"Yes, I suppose it is," he replied before getting up, leaving a somewhat baffled Harry in the kitchen by himself, once again.
That had been the last Severus had seen of Harry until now, for they'd all been given different assignments by the Order and had separated the next morning. Severus had been the first to leave Headquarters. He had a few old “friends" to see, who were still in league with the Dark Lord. It was his task to distract them, delay them as much as possible, while the remaining members of the Order completed their own assignments. As always, he carried his plans through with great care and attention to detail, while still being as quick and stealthy as possible. Nothing could go wrong, much was dependant on his success. After a close call with one of his "friends", Severus was satisfied he had completed his tasks and could seek some rest. He was to meet with Molly at headquarters after completing his assignment. He hoped the others had been successful.
Upon arriving at headquarters, Severus was not pleased to find the mood somber, anxious, and depressing. They had lost Alastor, and Tonks was wounded. Potter was nowhere to be found. At that last bit of news, Severus' stomach sank even lower. Who knows what had become of him. He could be out there, right now, waiting for help to arrive. Holding on by a thread.
Thinking back to their conversation the evening before, Severus suddenly felt his heart ache as he tried to contemplate a world in which there was no Harry Potter. Potter... Harry was beautiful, intelligent, and filled with hope and promise. Yes, the world would be much darker without him in it. Severus snorted. The world, or his world? What was he really more worried about? Severus turned swiftly on his heels, stalked straight out the door, and into the night, without another word. He ignored Molly's pleas to return, and focused his mind on Harry, vowing he would not rest until he had found him.
It had taken considerable time and effort to find Harry, but Severus managed through the process of elimination, going to all of the Dark Lord and Death Eater's favored haunts. Even the Ministry. It was nearing dawn before he finally found him, in the graveyard where the Dark Lord's own father lay. Only it was not a graveyard any longer. Everything had been destroyed by the magic and energies present during the battle, leaving only a desolate landscape.
Severus saw Harry flat on his back, eyes closed, and breathing laboriously. Blood matted his dark hair, and his scar was red and swollen. All the color seemed to have drained away from his skin. He gathered the boy close, and decided to take him where he could take care of him. His own home. Quickly, he activated a Portkey that would transport them directly to his home.
A slight moan drew his attention back to the boy. His eyelashes were fluttering. Maybe he would wake soon. Severus stalked in to his bathroom and got a damp cool washcloth. Returning to his room, Severus once again sat on the edge of the bed and cleaned Harry's face. He was nearly done, when Harry finally opened his eyes. He could see the confusion and disorientation as Harry's eyes darted around the room, before finally settling on Severus.
"Professor! Where are we?" he asked, his voice sounding strange and hoarse.
"We are in my family home, Harry, in Wales," Severus replied. With a gasp, Harry tried to sit up, but the older man placed a gentle but restraining hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Rest. You are safe. I will get you some water." With his ever-present billowing cloud of black robes, Severus swooped from the room.
Harry looked around him again, brushing an annoying strand of hair away from his eyes. He was still in a bit of shock. His professor had saved him and offered him sanctuary? Harry nearly felt as if he'd entered some alternate universe. Yes, surely that could explain everything. The last thing he remembered was passing out after the battle. With a sigh, Harry refocused his attention on the room around him. There was the bed, a nightstand to the right, below a dirty window, a dresser, a small mirror and a closet and a bookcase to his left lined with heavy, dusty old volumes related to potions and the Dark Arts.
"I prefer a simple existence, Mr. Potter. It sometimes helps to keep an already complicated life a bit more worry free," Severus announced, once again sweeping back into the room, glass of ice water in hand. He transfigured the nightstand into a comfortable overstuffed emerald green chair before handing Harry the glass of water. With some effort, the boy managed to hoist himself up and accept the glass, all the while cursing his professor’s uncanny ability to read minds weather by magic or not. It was unnerving really, to be read so well, like a book.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, raising his glass to the older man. Severus acknowledged the thanks with a nod of his head.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter,"
"Harry," the young man interrupted, "you saved my life, the least you can do is call me by my first name for once. I'm not the shaking First Year you met years ago, Professor."
Severus remained silent for a moment, digesting this small outburst from the boy. It seemed a small enough request to allow.
"Very well, Harry. What is the last thing you remember?" Severus asked, as he leaned forward slightly in his chair, a few strands of his dark hair falling forward obscuring the man's eyes.
For a moment, Harry became momentarily overcome with the desire to brush that strand of hair away. When had the other man's eyes become so deep and dark? When had Snape's skin lost its sallow tint and taken on a slightly healthier color? Shaking his head slightly, Harry responded to the professor’s question.
"I remember being alone after the battle, I became paralyzed somehow. I used Periculum before I passed out. And now, here I am," Harry said, before taking a slow sip of water.
Snape gazed at him for a moment, as if considering the validity of Harry's story. He gave a slow nod.
"I do not know what the paralysis was, Harry, but I think you will be well enough as you were able to sit up. You have been through quite a lot recently. More than anyone should ever have to bear, especially one so young. And you have done so with courage, intelligence, and grace. I've come to admire you."
Snape admired him? Enough that he‘d brought him into the safety of his own home? Unthinkable, but yet, there he was. Just then a sudden thought dawned on Harry.
"Professor? Are you hurt?" he asked, baffled that such a thing should matter to him. Yet, for some reason, it did. It mattered to him that the older man was unharmed. He felt relief wash over him as Severus smirked.
"Yes, unharmed, if a bit tired," Severus replied, letting them drop into a not -uncomfortable silence. Harry sipped his water, considered Severus, who toyed with the folds of his robes.
"Sir?" Harry asked after a few moments had passed, "What's to become of me?" Now it was Severus' turn to sigh as the boy finally got around to asking the obvious question that he could not answer.
"I do not know, Harry. All I know is that I think it would be wise for you to regain strength in mind and body before you make any more choices. You are, of course, welcome to stay here, as long as you need," Severus said, meeting Harry's gaze. He waited patiently as Harry digested this information.
Stay here? With his old professor? It was odd, yes, but Harry did not have too many other options. Besides, Severus was right. He needed rest. He needed time to revive before opening a new chapter in his life. He needed sanctuary. Somehow, staying with Severus felt right. Harry truly felt as if this was where he needed to be at the moment.
"Why would you offer this to me? Why would you offer me sanctuary, at the expense of your own?" Harry asked quietly. He was not able to look the other man in the eye. "I know you enjoy your solitude, Professor. But if you are offering to share this with me, I'm honored and humbled. I am just curious as to why you would do this for me."
Severus surprised himself by laying a gentle hand on Harry's arm.
"I am not completely sure to be honest with you, Harry. But I think I want to be the one who makes sure you are taken care of now. When I heard you were missing, I felt ill. I thought of our last conversation, and how the world would suddenly seem so dark without you in it. I did not know what had become of you, but I knew I wanted to be there to help you, if you need me,“ Severus replied, looking not at Harry, but at the ever fascinating flannel cover. Severus was surprised when he felt the muscles in Harry's arm give a slight twitch when he touched him. He finally glanced up at the boy, to find he was being stared at with the most intensity and heat he had seen in years.
"Severus, Harry. Call me Severus," the man interrupted, much like he had been interrupted before. He saw Harry pale for a second and then quickly regain his composure.
"Severus," Harry said, with a small smile, liking the way the name felt on his tongue, "I am afraid I need to clean up a little bit. Is your bathroom just through there?" he asked, pointing to the door directly across from the bed. Severus nodded.
"Of course, Harry," Severus replied, standing and Transfiguring the chair back into the nightstand, "but I will join you."
Before Harry could utter so much as a squeak of protest, Severus was suddenly upon him, bending low and claiming Harry's lips. Smooth, dry, and cool, they gently slid over Harry's warm, moist lips. Just the ghost of a touch, but it was enough to give Harry's heart a powerful jolt and steal the breath from him. Giving a slight, playful nip to Harry's bottom lip, Severus leaned back to look at the young man. His eyes were half-closed, and he looked so very far away.
Brushing his thumb over Harry's bottom lip, Severus managed his first smile in many years. He took the glass (still clutched so tightly in Harry's hand that he was afraid the glass might shatter) and set it on the nightstand. He pulled back the covers and then placed his shoulder underneath Harry's left arm to help the boy from the bed. Slowly, they made their way across the bedroom to the bathroom. Harry was still a bit stiff, but he seemed to be improving, almost by the moment. His cheeks now had some color to them, and his movements were much more sure and strong.
After sitting Harry on the toilet, Severus quickly drew a pleasantly warm bath. and began to strip. Robes. Waistcoat. Shoes. Shirt. Belt. Pants. He took a little pleasure in Harry watching, enraptured at the gift that was unwrapping before him.
Snape was lean, yes, but one could see the obvious muscle the man had as well. His chest was broad, and somewhat scarred (though by what, Harry did not care to imagine) and there was a light scattering of dark hair. His hips were narrow, and as for Severus' family jewels were impressive indeed, Harry decided. All in all, the man was surprisingly a sight for sore eyes, and Harry was very content to sit and stare his fill, as long as the man would let him.
"You are beautiful, Severus," Harry breathed out. Severus gave another small smile, and an indulgent look, as he made his way over to Harry and helped the boy up. Instantly wrapping the young man in a tight hug, Severus’ hands slid slightly up from where they rested on Harry's hips, to grip the bottom of Harry's shirt. After a gentle tug, Harry took a pace back and lifted his arms so the piece of clothing could be tossed aside. Severus looked appreciatively at Harry's lithe form. His chest was nearly hairless, and Severus could not help but run a hand down from Harry's shoulder, down his chest, until he encountered the zipper of Harry's jeans.
Gaining a little courage from Severus' obvious enjoyment of all of this, Harry leaned forward, pushing his hips into Severus' hand, until he could finally return the kiss the older man had given him earlier. Harry could not stop a groan as Severus gave a firm but gentle squeeze to his cock, which was rapidly coming to attention. Breaking the kiss, Severus stepped back.
"The tub," he said simply, before turning and easing himself into the steaming water. He situated himself so that his back touched the far end, away from the faucet, so Harry would have room as well. He lifted and eyebrow expectantly as he could see Harry blush and consider the situation before him.
"Harry," he asked quietly, "Are you a virgin?"
Hardly managing a nod, the boy took a sudden interest in the tile on the bathroom floor, which was a faded rose design, he noticed.
Severus cleared his throat to get Harry's attention. When Harry looked up, he smiled.
"Do not worry. Come, and join me. Besides, the water is getting cold, and the warmth will help you feel a bit better," Severus said. A look of resolve came over Harry, and he reached down to undo the fly to his jeans, pushing them to the floor.
Severus caught his breath as Harry bared himself in all of his glory.
"If I am beautiful, you are marvelous," he said, voice barely above a whiosper, looking Harry straight in the eye. Now it was Harry's turn to smile. Feeling a little braver, he took the few steps towards the tub, and lifted one leg to start the climb into the water.
"No," Severus said, gently catching Harry's leg, "Face me."
Severus did not think it was possible, but the young man's blush deepened, and he hesitated for a second, but obeyed Severus in the end.
The blessed warmth of the water, combined with the new sensations made Harry's breath catch as he sank down into the water and onto his professor’s lap.
"That's it. Lovely," Severus whispered as he leaned forward and gave Harry a firm kiss. Harry returned the kiss as best he knew how, his hands coming to rest in Severus' hair. He gave a little jump when he felt Severus' hands take hold of his hips. Swiping his tongue across Harry's lips, Severus made the boy groan and instinctively part them as he dipped his tongue inside the moist, velvet heat of Harry's mouth, and gently thrust his hips upward creating the wonderful sensation of cock rubbing against cock.
"Ahh," giving a little shout, Harry tore his mouth from Severus and leaned forward to increase the contact between them. Harry's hands moved from Severus hair to encircle his neck gently, and they both rocked together in the warm water, creating small waves that sloshed against the side of the tub.
Harry, for his part, hardly noticed the water, so focused was he on the incredible new sensations he was feeling with Severus. Each movement, each breathy moan. drove Harry higher and higher, until he was nearly mad with need, seeking some form of blessed release. They kissed a while longer, and their hips continued a frantic, firm dance as each sought to give pleasure to the other.
When Severus' hands went from holding Harry's face, to slip beneath the water and cup Harry's ass, hauling him even closer, it was too much for Harry. With a gasp, he clutched at Severus as he found release.
Severus still kept up his frantic rutting, guiding his cock between the lovely cheeks of Harry's bum. He did not push to enter Harry at all, but continued to rub until he came. As they came down from their erotic high, each knew they had found what they’d not even know they’d needed.
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