FIC for venturous: "Sweet Halcyon Haze" pt 2 Title: Sweet Halcyon Haze Author:psyfic Recipient:venturous Rating: NC-17 Words: ~12,000 Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings: [character death, innocent exploration of sex between two kids, angst, masturbation, first time] Summary: Severus knew Lily first... and Lily knew Severus last. Author's Notes: With thanks to my betas and Brit-picker. They know who they are and how grateful I am for their help. I hope this suits, venturous.
Despite his clean bill of health and the gates of the school as well as the office of the Headmaster itself acknowledging his right to his position by allowing him unimpeded entrance, Severus found himself fretting that night instead of reading as he'd intended.
What would the parents think? The Daily Prophet had spent almost an entire week painting him to be a murdering traitor, then after the Dark Lord's persistent use of Malfoy family money and influence, spent the next week decrying a seemingly deranged and grief-stricken Potter. Madam Rosmerta had been interviewed so many times she had finally bespelled the Three Broomsticks to expel any journalists from the premises, permanently.
Her account of a wild-eyed, anxious Harry Potter and a clearly badly injured Albus Dumbledore continued to be double-checked and triple-checked by the Aurors. It cast more than enough doubt on Potter and his culpability in the events of that night.
The other witnesses, Death Eaters all, were discounted, of course. Snape had been tight-lipped and solemn, speaking only to the Aurors and providing his version of events. It had not, he declared, been a Killing Curse, but a simple hurling hex he had intended to use against the Death Eaters, but Albus Dumbledore had gotten in the way and been hurled from the tower. Potter, he insisted, had hated him from the beginning since he was strict and the boy had been negligent in his studies and homework.
The Aurors and the Healers who had examined Dumbledore found it was more than possible he had died from the fall, not from any curse or spell. His wand was checked, and to the still skeptical staffs' chagrin, proved not to have been used to cast a Killing Curse. He did not bother to explain to educated wizards and witches, who should be well aware of the fact that, just because a wizard said the words, did not mean there was intent behind them. He might have said Avada Kedavra, to fool the other Death Eaters, but had actually cast a silent hurling hex. That was what his wand reflected. The charges were dropped and life, as it were, went on.
Still, not everyone believed him. Some parents had already sent letters indicating they were withdrawing their children from Hogwarts. The admission rate at Beauxbatons was said to be astronomical this year.
He sighed and set his book down now, taking a few moments to close his eyes and clear his mind. It was the best way to avoid nightmares and troubled sleep.
Clarity evaded him, however, and he groaned as his eyes snapped open in the dark of his room. Tension pervaded him, the memory of the invasive exam left him feeling edgy, and he did not think he could sleep.
The fact he was being watched by the other members of the staff left him unwilling to roam the corridors as once he might.
Recalling Pomfrey's admonitions to him, he found himself turning onto his back and lifting his nightshirt to take himself in hand. It was neither dignified nor truly desired, but it would help him sleep.
With a deep sigh, Snape closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to wander where they willed as he methodically milked himself.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Gasping through the last of the shudders that wracked him, Severus shifted his sheets back and took his wand in hand, swiftly waving away the streaks of pearly fluid.
With a sigh, he realised that he had to urinate, so he got up and trudged to the rather lavish washroom attached to the Headmaster's quarters.
Taking himself in hand he aimed for the urinal and sighed again as he felt the hot piss ballooning up the foreskin, cleaning out the 'muck' his father had once informed him about. A crude, but simple word for a crude, but simple man. Still, he had not been wrong.
Bathing was all well and good, Severus knew, but too many people assumed everyone could bathe whenever they liked. To a Muggle or Wizard without access to clean water and the ability to bathe but once a week, the simple expedient of letting their own urine do the job could mean the difference between good hygiene and ill health.
Snape finished up and headed back to his bed, slipping between the sheets and closing his eyes. He drifted off to sleep thinking of the exam, and how he could have told Pomfrey that he had never been in ill health in his entire life, one of the few graces he had received from his otherwise unremarkable body.
~~~~~
~~~~~
"It was as you foresaw, Severus."
Snape bowed to Voldemort, saying nothing. This was a trick most of the others could not seem to master. Most would have been kowtowing, thanking him for complimenting them, pleased with obtaining his favour. The more Severus kept himself deferential but distant, the closer Voldemort seemed to want to get.
"Still, the death of that crippled Auror was a boon."
"Indeed, my Lord."
"Is he not the one who interrogated you so cruelly?"
"Yes, my Lord." Snape gritted his teeth, not having to fake his resentment.
"Then I count it a success, even if the boy escaped. He lost his owl, I heard. That leaves him with less means of communicating. And now he knows that every move he makes will be watched."
"Very true, my Lord." Snape cleared his throat, and then pitched his voice lower. "Since he has not yet proven himself worthy of being marked, perhaps young Mr. Malfoy can still be useful in other ways."
"Go on."
"With your permission, I should like to assign Draco to monitor the purchase of owls in Diagon since he knows who Potter's companions are. Unlikely, perhaps, but it's possible we might discover the boy through his cohorts."
Voldemort studied him. "An excellent plan, Severus. And, perhaps, a more appropriate use of the boy, since he has proven himself unworthy of more distinguished service."
"We cannot all aspire to greatness, but can still serve in small ways," Snape noted.
Voldemort smiled then. "Wise, and it pleases me to humble his insufferable fool of a father."
He did not mention Lucius Malfoy's current position of disfavour in his ranks, but then he did not have to.
"Malfoy Manor is to remain our central location, then, my Lord? I only ask," he hastened to add, "in case I require sending word or making enquiries."
"I am not to be disturbed for anything less than the boy's capture. All else will be seen to by you or Bellatrix."
"Very good, my Lord." Snape bowed.
"The boy will come to me eventually," Voldemort stated, then looked at the wand he carried. "For now, I have other business to tend to. I leave you in charge at the school. You will also assist Bella, if she requires it, among my followers."
"Very well, my Lord," Snape replied, as Voldemort turned to exit the room. It was unlikely in the extreme that Bella would want Severus to help her with anything, and they both were aware of this. It merely cemented his ties to the school, ensuring he would not leave Hogwarts, which is where the Dark Lord wanted him to be.
He nearly took a misstep as Voldemort suddenly swung back to face him.
"It is, of course, your own decision, Severus, but I thought you might be interested to know that Alecto has petitioned me for your favours."
Snape stilled. He arched a brow. "Indeed?"
"Yes. She and her brother are from a good Pureblood family. The match would please me, if it should be your choice, of course."
"I am honoured. I shall consider it."
"Do."
Voldemort left... and Severus swore.
~~~~~
~~~~~
"You slovenly ham-fisted hag!"
He did not have to fake the outrage and disgust in his voice as he covered his crotch with a fold of his robe, and Alecto Carrow cringed, making him angrier, despite the fact it was his own potion that had caused her actions. She stared at him fearfully now, glancing at her hands from time to time as if shocked by what she had done.
He had made sure she sat by him at dinner, then discreetly doctored her wine with an undetectable and highly illegal potion. It had escalated her already present interest in him, and caused her to frantically try to appease what she saw as his need. He had needed to smile through dinner and pretend her fawning gestures and surreptitious touches to his thigh were of interest, then asked her to his quarters for an after-dinner drink.
The potion was highly selective. It did not shut down a woman's sense of self-preservation or natural decorum... unless she was alone and in close proximity to a man she was interested in. It was slow to build, but also wore off very quickly, so as soon as dinner was finished, he had hurried her to his rooms, hoping he would not have to give her more.
Fortunately, and much as he expected, as soon as they were alone she had pounced, unbuttoning his robes and pulling him from his trousers, frantic in her haste and none too careful about her fingernails.
He winced a little now at the stinging pain and then scowled at her. "Get out! I want nothing more to do with you!"
"But..."
"Get out whilst you still have your job," he said firmly, black eyes glaring.
She hurried tearfully out of his quarters and he heaved a sigh of intense relief and warded the doors.
Looking down, he checked himself, relieved that she had not broken any skin, merely having pinched it a bit, then cautiously tucked himself back into his trousers, feeling soiled beyond belief.
It had been necessary, in order to truthfully inform the Dark Lord the attempted union had not been successful, but he despised having had to allow the woman to touch him.
He hurried to his bathroom and ran a tub. He felt the need to bathe, to wash the unwanted and unasked for touch away.
Aside from Poppy, in her capacity as the school's mediwitch, and the horrid woman who had just left him, the only person to ever touch him so personally had been Lily.
Snape groaned at the bittersweet pain this thought caused, eyes closing tightly as if to shut it away.
He stepped into the too-hot water, welcoming the cleansing pain, and proceeded to scrub himself nearly raw.
It might be pathetic, but his abstinence had been of his own choosing. If he could not have Her, then he would have no one. It was a simple equation.
After his bath, he toweled himself dry and studied his red-streaked skin in the mirror.
This could not go on. His personal torment needed to be set aside.
He had enough to worry over and watch for in this most horrible of years. Potter was out there, as was the Dark Lord. He was trapped between them like a fulcrum. He had his duties. He could not afford distraction. He would have to shut her from his thoughts, push her to the very back of his mind. The fact that everything he now did was for her, for all that remained of her -- for her son -- would have to console him. It would have to be enough.
"I'm sorry, Lil," he whispered now, as he hung his head, still damp hair sliding forward to drip on his cheeks.
The fact they had already been wet was between him and his mirror.
~~~~~
~~~~~
"You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."
"My Lord--"
It was now, Snape knew it, and he knew he had to somehow get word to Potter, but there was no more time. His time was now up.
He did not hear what Voldemort was saying.
"My Lord," he repeated, hoping against hope that there would be some means of reprieve.
"...the wand and I master Potter at last."
What had he said? What did the wand have to do with him? Where was Potter? How could he get word--
The huge magical cage crackled as it slid toward him, Nagini uncoiling from within, readying to do her master's bidding. He said something in Parseltongue, and Severus found himself surrounded by serpentine coils. He saw fangs and could do nothing; Voldemort had immobilised him.
The pain was not as great as his terror at dying with his mission still unfulfilled -- he had to get word to Potter.
"I regret it," Voldemort told him as he walked away.
Severus struggled to keep his head, to try to think despite the shock he could feel turning his limbs to rubber and filling him with a chill fear. He was mortally wounded. What could he do?
He heard a slight noise and quailed at the thought Voldemort might return to finish him off, or worse, Nagini, to feed...
He trembled in fear and tried to stanch the flow of blood, trying to think. Potter, he had to get w-- yes!
Severus began to gather his energies. He would send his Patronus. It was the only way. He had seen how Harry followed the doe. He had an affinity for her, but then, why wouldn't he? It personified his mother, after all.
The memories were a mishmash as he gathered them, trying to put them in order, and he feared he might include too much, that the boy might not witness them all, but then suddenly, as if in a dream, those green eyes appeared before him.
The boy stood there -- Her boy -- all that was left of Lily Evans.
Snape knew what he had to do. He grasped at Harry with a strength borne of desperation.
"Take... it.... Take... it..."
It was his very essence, he knew, as the memories bled from him, but it was also Her. It was what Harry would need, to do what was required. It was Severus's final payment of the life debt.
I could never pay it in full, he suddenly realised. Albus knew it. Because I would have to send this boy to his death.
His hand slackened, loosened.
And he is all that is left of her. All that I have.
"Look... at... me..."
Harry's wide green eyes stared, but all Severus saw was summers past, and the crisp green promise of Spring, of rebirth, of renewal and restoration, as he drifted away.
~~~~~
~~~~~
"It's small, but adequate for a couple just beginning."
The young couple was not the typical couple, being two men, but that did not matter to the woman trying to sell the home. Their money spent just as well as anyone else's.
"Can we go upstairs?"
She hesitated only momentarily. "Of course. The stairs are actually hidden by this clever bookshelf," she pressed the lever that made it swing open and followed the young gay couple up.
They enthused briefly over the hidden staircase before beginning to comment on the narrowness of the stairs themselves. At the top of the stairs, they paused.
"What's wrong," she called down from below them.
"I... I thought I heard something," one young man admitted. The other nodded vigorously.
"Let's go back down," he said. "Maybe we should look at another house."
"But this one is going cheap," she insisted, moving aside for them and then following them as they hurried to the front door.
"That's okay. Cheap isn't everything."
"No. Let's look for someplace a bit more, uh, relaxing."
She sighed. "Very well. I have a small cottage near Keighley."
"Let's go look at it."
She led them out and closed and locked the door behind her.
The old two up, two down on Spinner's End was her longest held property; she had been trying to sell it for fifteen years. The agent before her had also been trying for several years before he offloaded it on her.
There were all sorts of stories -- that a murder had occurred, that a cuckolded husband had slain his adulterous wife and her lover, that a woman had gone mad from the loss of her child and killed her husband and herself.
She had no idea if any of them were true, but she doubted it.
The odd sounds around the home were not mournful or angry ones, far from it. She had sat in the living room of the place one entire afternoon, working on some documents, and listened.
If anything, the sounds around the home were rather more like young and frolicsome spirits... young and frolicsome spirits making love.
Based on her one afternoon there, the spectral couple liked to make love a lot... and all over the house.
Per at least one account, other people in the neighbourhood said the spirits seemed to enjoy vigorous relations all around the area, including the park. No one had ever seen them, but sometimes one could feel their presence, akin to the sensation of having two young people rush past intent on their own exploits. Most people in the neighbourhood had heard them, laughing or making love; they were considered friendly spirits to the area.
She led the young gay couple to her car now and sighed as she started it. She knew what they had probably heard. The sound only came from the first floor of the old house, from the open and seemingly empty rooms.
They were the sound of squeaking bed springs, followed by joyous peals of laughter and cries of ecstasy. Sometimes, if one listened carefully, one could hear the voices distinctly. They always said the same thing.
The female voice moaned, "Sev!" or possibly Seth, since Sev didn't sound like a name to her.
The male voice always sounded well and fully spent. The word he uttered was a shudder of sound released in husky, velvet tones which were very clear indeed. It was said with love and reverence and wonder.