Fractures and Seams by WhiteCotton Title: Fractures and Seams Author:whitecotton Pairing: Severus/Harry Rating: R Word Count: 100 x 4 Warnings: None Summary: There is only one place one can find an echo of the late Severus Snape. A/N: Thanks to atypicalsnowman and thesewarmstars. JKR’s, not mine. Any of it.
Fractures and Seams
The Shack hadn’t changed over the years. More dust, of course, and certainly more rats, but the rest remained as it had, right down to the stain on the floor.
Except the stain had changed. It now had lines in it, stubby train tracks going nowhere.
It was strange, really, how this place tied him to Severus Snape. Were he a betting man, he would have laid his Galleons on Spinner’s End or Hogwarts; but when he’d gone looking for him there, he’d found nothing, no trace of him.
He sighed.
It had smelled wrong – of slavery, duty and fear.
***
No such scent here, only that of freedom, choice and peace. The air was ripe with it, a sweet perfume redolent of forgiveness.
No, if he wanted an echo of Severus Snape, he had to come here, where he’d died.
Which was preposterous, of course. It was nothing more than sentiment and mawkish humour.
However.
He dropped into a crouch, laid his hands on the rough boards, and sighed.
For a moment, he just stayed there, on his haunches, looking. Then, he locked his fingers into claws and pressed down, hard, dragging them towards him.
“Happy Anniversary,” said Severus Snape.
***
“Did you go?”
Severus hung his cloak on the back of the door and brushed the dust from its folds, every speck of grime, every trace of ochre flakes and splinters. Without turning, he replied, “Yes. I went.”
“Why?”
But Severus couldn’t explain the elementary fracturing, the complete fissure dividing what was and what is. Nor why he needed to catch cobwebs with his robes, mark the floor with his boots, or scrape his blood from the wood, drawing it under his fingernails.
“Please.”
He turned around and closed his eyes, shoulders dropping on a sigh. “To know that I am.”
***
“Severus!”
His body singing, sparks collecting and rolling from his chest into his balls, Severus thrust his hips harder, driving his cock deeper. He felt a shattering, a joining, everything complete again – a wealth of sensation, abandon, the affirmation to be – as he came.
They lay there awhile, chests heaving, breath panting and ragged.
Turning his head, he saw thick ropes of come trailing a staggered line over Harry’s stomach. He paused a moment, then dragged his fingers through it, drawing stubby train tracks with his nails.
“I am alive,” he whispered, placing a kiss on Harry’s shoulder.