Happy Daft Day, yura_slash! Recipient:yura_slash Title: Crying on a moonlit night Author: FAKE (xremusxgalx) Rating: NC17/15 Warnings: Not really, generalised sex with a plot Prompt/Summary: Snape and Harry are soul mates, and Snape has known it since the day Harry showed up at Hogwarts, all those years ago. Now that Harry is a seventh year (and seventeen) and Voldemort is dead, Snape tries to show Harry the parts of himself that he's been hiding all this time. Angst is fine, if Snape doesn't want to confront Harry directly with the knowledge that they are soul mates (ignores HBP, post-Voldemort) Author's Note: I didn’t manage the ignores HBP, but I think I got the rest in some way, shape or form! I make no profit from this, and all characters/places belong to JKRowling.
Crying on a moonlit night
Take a look around you,
At this world we’ve come to know,
Does it seem much more,
Than a crazy Circus show?
But maybe from the madness
Something beautiful will grow
In a brave new world
With just a handful of men
We’ll start; we’ll start all over again!
The war was over, Voldemort was gone, and the wizarding world was in chaos. All around the planet lives were being rebuilt in the new found peace. Around the campfire outside of Hogwarts castle lives were hanging on by threads. Here and there people huddled in groups of twos or threes, with the odd straggler sitting out on his or her own. Ron and Hermione were asleep on each other, Hermione’s head on Ron’s shoulder, and Ron’s head on Hermione’s head. Remus was sat talking with Arthur, Molly and Tonks, Bill and Fleur had vanished into their tent a while ago, and Ginny was talking to the twins. These few were just about all that had survived from the Order against the Death Eaters, only two other figures sat with them, alone and at opposite ends of the fire. One was the hero, Harry Potter, his green eyes dark and brooding, lost in thought, cut off from everything around him. No one, despite all their best efforts, had managed to coax so much as a word from his lips. It was all they could do to get him to eat. Opposite him, his breath clouding in the unnatural cold in spring was Severus Snape. No one was sure what to make of Snape these days. It was known that he had killed Albus Dumbledore, but then he had save countless others of the Order, including, to everyone’s surprise, Remus Lupin. Like Harry, Snape hadn’t uttered a word since the Dark Lord fell; refusing any food that was offered.
Eventually people started drifting off to bed, Ron and Hermione only doing so because they fell backwards off their seats and woke up. The camp cleared slowly, leaving just Harry and Snape at the outer reaches of the campfire. The silence that remained seemed to stretch on and on, with no foreseeable end. At one point Snape moved, his curtain of greasy black hair shimmering in the lamplight as his head turned, and his mouth opened as if to say something, but it closed soon after and Snape returned to how he had been sat before without uttering a single sound.
Harry, however, was beginning to twitch, as if whatever he had been struggling with internally for days was about to break out of the surface. His breathing quickened and with a sudden burst of energy he stood up, glared at the still figure of Snape, and stormed out the small camp. Snape sat still, watching him leave with eyes that flicked sideways in their sockets. It was a few moments before he moved as well, slowly uncurling his legs and standing up, looking stiff and his grimace showed pain. There was some kind of strange light in his eyes, as if this was what he had been waiting for. He walked off as if he were a shadow in the direction Harry had taken.
Harry had walked to where there was a cliff over the Hogwarts Lake, and he was standing on the edge, his face clouded by dark thoughts, staring blankly at the still water below. Snape stepped out behind him, with a strange look on his face and a half smiling, half sneering expression.
“If your thinking about jumping, Potter, there are some rocks over to your left in about 100 yards.” Snape said in a sneering voice.
Harry’s face became smooth at the sound of that sneering voice, the one that always taunted him, that always said he was weak. The voice of the man that had murdered Albus Dumbledore. Slowly, Harry turned and faced Snape, and the eyes of the two blank, unreadable faces met across the distance. For a moment, something flickered across Snape’s face and flashed in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly.
“And what would you know about it?” Harry snapped. “You killed Dumbledore!”
Mild amusement crossed Snape’s blank features for a second. “What has that got to do with rocks being 100 yards away? And yes, I did kill Albus, but I had no choice. He knew that the day might come where something like that happened. DO YOU TTHINK I DON’T REGRET WHAT I DID?”
Snape face had undergone a great change in just those few sentences, moving from slight amusement to blank to sad to showing great pain. Harry looked as if there was some sorrow for Snape in his heart, but he masked it as soon as he could.
“You didn’t have to, you could have protected him. You could have saved him. But you didn’t you betrayed him. And I supposed you think that saving Remus and some of the others makes it all better, do you? You didn’t help Hagrid, did you!” Harry said, nearly shouting at Snape.
“I could have saved Albus, and then we would have had no information on the Dark Lords whereabouts, and you wouldn’t have defeated him. He was devoted to killing the Dark Lord, to ending his dominion. Yes, I saved Remus, and the others. Hagrid I couldn’t have saved… I was miles away at that point, and you know I was. Think about it though, would you have had enough pain and love to defeat the Dark Lord had Hagrid not died?” Snape’s voice was low, tired and still brimming with anger. “I have been where you are, though I was actually standing over the rocks. While I was standing there, about to jump, a wise man said to me that the greater courage was to go on living, and to turn you life around. That man saved me that day, and I did turn my life around, though perhaps not my personality. I defected at that point. Later, on a dark tower, I killed the man who had been my saviour. The greatest slip back into the life I was fighting against.”
Harry did not reply, but his eyes watched Snape’s face as it became suddenly open and the lines around the eyes and mouth became etched with misery that seemed to come from years ago. Then Harry began to cry, tears rolling thick and full down his face. Snape paused for a moment, looking shocked at Harry crying, his expression and stance saying that he thought it was he who should cry. Then, after a moment, something dawned upon Snape’s face, the resurgence of a memory being fully realised. Snape stepped forwards towards Harry, going slowly, as though Harry were an injured, scared animal. For a moment it looked as if Harry would back off, move away from Snape, but he didn’t, and slowly, awkwardly, Snape wrapped an arm about the younger mans shaking form, pulling Harry’s head to his shoulder.
After a few moments, Harry got control of him self again, but didn’t move away from Snape’s arms, choosing instead to remain there. Snape released a sigh into the chill air, rested his head against Harry’s.
“Thrust together by Chance, Potter. And yet, perhaps this is more by fate. I followed you out here merely to stop you killing the hero of the wizarding world while he is still needed, and here I find myself being sentimental. Perhaps I am getting old.” Snape spoke softly, with only as hint of his old sneer.
Harry let loose a weak chuckle, and Snape raised an eyebrow. With a rising feeling of apprehension, Snape watched Harry lift his head from his shoulder, and look at him with a questioning glance.
“Fate, Snape? I would never have thought you would believe in fate.” Harry said softly.
“Yes, Potter, fate. A long time ago a gypsy woman in Romania with some seer blood in her subjected me to a fortune reading. And now, I think, I finally understand her warped words.” Snape answered, and without warning, he leaned in and kissed Harry.
For a moment, Harry stood tensely, then he began to relax into the kiss, and then he pulled away sharply and stared aghast at Snape before fleeing back to camp. Snape stood alone in the moonlight, his face looking sad and broken.
“Yes Harry, fate. That woman told me I would find my soul mate crying in the moonlight. She was right, even if I have denied it for years.” Snape sighed, and returned to camp, taking his normal seat again, where he would remain until something pulled him loose of his stone-like state.
The camp was bustling in the morning. All about Snape, who sat like he always did as though caved from a rock, people were getting on with rebuilding their lives. Harry, however, spoke to the remaining people, seemingly revived from his dark, brooding state, eating more by choice than force, answering questions in a voice that was cracked from lack of use and crying in the night. When he passed near Snape, Snape twitched slightly, and his eyes followed Harry’s form. As night fell, and people sat about the campfire, the only person who did not join a group, and who hadn’t moved or ate all day, was Snape. Finally people began to head off to bed, and when only a few remained Snape rose and followed the path Harry had taken the night before. Snape stopped, and looked over the edge at where Harry would have jumped before moving 100 yards further down to where rocks protruded from the lake. Snape believed his job was done, and now he could go to hell, where he belonged.
Harry stepped out of the bushes in time to see Snape begin to step off the ledge, and he ran over the grass as fast as he could to wrap his arms around the waist of the other man and pull him back from the edge. They landed with a tangle of limbs and harsh release of breath on the grass of the bank. Snape rolled over and got up quickly, staring at Harry with some strange expression on his face.
“Why?” Snape gasped in a ragged breath, still getting his wind back from his fall.
“Because you can’t die. What would a hero be with an antagonist?” Harry answered, stepping into Snape and kissing him. “And because I can’t ignore last night, either. You said it was fate… Perhaps it was.”
Snape tried on a watery smile that clung to his face like a limpet, and Harry smiled back. Snape kissed the others mouth once more, before leading him back to camp. Once they were in the mass of tents, Snape took Harry back to Harry’s tent, intending to leave him there. Harry, however, pulled Snape in behind him.
“Please… I don’t want to be alone anymore.” Harry said softly.
Snape nodded to show he understood, and he took Harry through to the bedroom. They began that night just curled about each other, their flesh touching flesh. Snape was hard within moments, as if something had woken in him when he remembered the fortuneteller’s words. Harry, however, took a little longer to allow the heat to filter through his defences before his body began to fully react. It seemed that, as natural as this felt, his mind was putting up some blocks against happiness due to old feelings for Snape. However, when the response came from Harry, Snape suddenly found himself with a lot to handle. Harry launched at Snape, kissing him hard while wriggling about to bring himself into alignment. Snape pulled back, caught his breath and collected himself.
“Take it slowly, Harry, we have the rest of our lives.” Snape growled.
The night pressed on in a more sedate form of activity, but the act was still rough, Snape pounded hard into Harry, who grunted and squirmed as Snape worked his cock, bringing Harry to a climax that coincided with his own by pinching the base of Harry’s penis to hold off the ejaculation. Exhausted, they both collapsed onto the dark sheets and slept, Harry for the second time in days, Snape for the first.
The next day was the first day that no one sat in stony silence in the camp, Harry’s spot remained deserted, and Snape’s was unoccupied for the full day. Both of them were seen about the camp, doing what they could to help, Harry by offering friendship to those who mourned and hope to others, and Snape by making poison antidotes for those who remained alive to receive them. When the food was passed about that night as the campfires were lit, Molly offered some to Snape, who took a roll and a small portion of soup.
“You should take more, Severus. Your far too thin.” Molly said
“After so long with nothing, my body would reject the food if I were to take more.” Snape answered her with a small smile.
Molly smiled at Severus, and gave Harry some food as he sat beside Snape. They ate in silence and joined the conversation once they had finished. Once people had begun to go to bed, Harry and Snape slunk off once more to Harry’s tent. Life began to gather its resources and move one again the little camp, taking its threads on which it dangled and beginning to weave a new tapestry from the ashes of the old one.