Chapter 15
"The Mirror"
Harry had never been so exhausted in all of his life.
Night had begun to fall in earnest. Dusk sat on the horizon and the deep, cold light reflected off of Severus’ skin. Their time here was almost over–they had to return to the world soon, or forfeit their lives.
Harry had not been this sore since his Quidditch days, when he’d left practice with burning muscles. His head was throbbing and his feet ached, blistered from being bare foot and walking on the hard earth. It seemed that the after-life involved a lot of walking. Harry couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d walked this much, not even when he was child, and he must have walked across Hogwarts at least a thousand times in his youth.
Yes. Only a madman named Albus Dumbledore would send them barefoot into the nether world. All he wanted to do was curl up on the side of the road and damn the bloody stone lying on the chain between himself and Severus.
Harry hummed one of his favorite songs under his breath to keep himself awake. As he’d known, after about ten seconds of this Severus threw him an exasperated look at him. "Do you mind?"
The glasses looked so handsome on him. Silver, just as Harry’s were, they illuminated his pale skin and made him look as scholarly as he truly was.
It was deeply bewildering.
Harry stopped, arched a brow, and then continued merrily on; it was the only thing keeping him awake. He was so tired that he kept stumbling over the smallest of things, and his lungs didn’t seem to want to breathe in deeply enough to keep the yawns at bay.
He was a fan of Muggle stations, and he hummed a few lines of the song just to spite the older man at his side. "If I was a sculptor, but then again, no/Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show/I know it's not much but it's the best I can do/My gift is my song and this one's for you."
Severus snorted. "You sincerely cannot sing, Potter."
They’d left the three sisters only a short time ago. They followed the pear blossoms and the water, as Godric had cleverly hinted, Severus watching for the blossoms and Harry walking along the trickle of water that grew steadily into a stream alongside the path.
The water was blessedly cool lapping over his toes, and though it stung a bit, it was better than leaving bloody footprints behind. He was strangely pleased to do it, as if he was eight years old again, splashing in puddles without caring that Aunt Petunia would have his hide. It was pleasing after a fashion, to squish the mud under his aching toes, to walk along the stones and let the cold water run over his feet. "Tell me about how you grew up?"
Severus looked up from his own bleeding feet, brow arched. "I’m sorry?"
"About your sisters. Your childhood. Tell me?"
Severus regarded him for a moment and must have seen the sincerity in Harry’s expression, because he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. "I grew up in Manchester. We were severely impoverished, due to my father’s gambling addiction–there was rarely enough food for our table, let alone for anything a child could want or need. My mother put mending charms on our clothing until they could no longer be fixed." He paused. "We were all very close in age, the younger of us–we only had one older sister, who as I told you, died when we were very young."
"Your dad wasn’t a nice man, was he?"
"He was not a kind man, no–he and my grandfather both were utterly devoid of any human emotion as far as I’m aware." He passed Harry a glance. "The Snape’s were once the most prestigious family in all of Wizarding Britain. Wealthy beyond imagining--even more so than the Malfoys. I seem to have been the only male in my family who had any sense left in his head. My father lost our home, our possessions, and tried several times to marry my sisters off to his creditors."
Harry looked up, horrified. "What a monster."
"That he was." Severus glanced at him. "He never beat me. He didn’t have to--I saw enough to know I could never pass on the Snape line. It was only luck that I turned out to be a homosexual, and I would not have it any other way."
Harry risked a glance up. No one had ever spoken so candidly about it before, and he found himself, despite the hate he felt for the bastard, intrigued. "How’d you know you were gay?"
"When Remus Lupin stuck his tongue down my throat."
Well, that was unexpected.
Harry stared, watching a smirk flicker across Severus’ face. "Professor Lupin?"
"Well, at the time he wasn’t a professor, so only Remus. Or rather, Lupin."
"You guys..." Harry stared, horrified. "You guys?"
Severus smirked and pushed the glasses back up onto his long, hooked nose. "Delusions are best when they’re broken, Harry, especially yours. He was as queer as a three galleon coin, and he and I enjoyed a secret affair for the better part of our last year of school."
"What...why did you break up?"
"Your mongrel godfather found out, hunted me down, and tried to hex me senseless. Of course, at the time he thought homosexuality to be an abomination because of his own fears."
"Fears?"
Severus glanced at him. "He was homosexual himself, of course."
Sirius.
Gay.
Harry couldn’t stop himself from staring and almost tripped over his own two feet.
Severus’ lips quirked at the corners. "Did you not know? Surely you had to wonder about him and Lupin."
Harry shook his head, eyes still wide. "Sirius and Professor Lupin?"
"Mmm."
"Well." Harry blinked several times. "I always wondered what Remus was talking about. In my seventh year, before..." He glanced up. "Before everything happened, I told him that I liked you, found you sexy, wanted to bugger and be buggered senseless. He told me my parents and Sirius would have understood. I suppose they would have."
"If you’re trying to find a way to ask me if your father was queer, Harry, rest assured he was not, though I am not sure what acts he and his friends perpetrated upon one another. I can assure you he was so enraptured with your mother that seeing them apart was as rare as a blue moon."
They fell silent, walking along the path with their own thoughts.
After a few minutes, Harry asked, "Did you--have you–dated anyone else I know?"
"Not quite. There was Lockhart, of course."
"You...Lockhart?"
"Of course. He had an excellent build. Very nice eyes. I would have liked a roll in the sack with him, if he hadn’t been such an arrogant, pea brained fraud. There’s only so much sheer sexuality can overcome, you know."
Harry couldn’t help snickering. "He was, wasn’t he? Lockhart and who else?"
"If you’re going to suggest Lucius Malfoy, you needn’t bother," Severus replied with a soft sneer. "Lucius drove me into Voldemort’s arms with his insipid bleating. Draco is much more tolerable."
Harry smirked. "This is kind of fun, Severus."
"Aside from the imminent death."
"Well, yeah."
Severus snorted and spread his arms wide, intoning in a false announcer's voice that sounded a lot like Fudge, "An adventure for the ages, boy and man, sword, shield and wand, searching through the bowels of death for the means to save the world," he said, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh again. "Potter and Snape, two of theunlikliest heroes imaginable, on a whirlwind adventure of the likes the world has never seen!" He snorted and dropped the voice. "All we need is the bloody suit of armor. Can lions carry shields I wonder, or is their foolhardiness shield enough?"
Harry smiled sideways and tapped the sword at his hip. "I’m halfway there. And besides, lions are cats, and cats are known for their cunning, aren’t they?"
"That would account for your nine lives. Come to think of it, I have never met an unlucky black cat."
"Aren’t you an unlucky black cat? Or is that bat?" Harry glanced at him with a smirk. Severus, when he was amused, looked like a totally different person–from the quirk of his lips to the lighting of his eyes. Harry wondered vaguely how he could have gone through six years of schooling and never seen what a handsome man Severus was until it was too late and–not thinking about that.
Funny enough, Harry didn’t feel the need to frown, or sneer, or glare at him. He just...he liked that they could talk like this. On even ground. It was disconcerting, and had to do with their situation and...yes. That was it.
"Yes, well, the cat’s out of the bag now," Severus snorted, dark eyes sparkling.
"No use crying over spilt milk!" Harry snickered, taking hold of Severus’ shoulder to take a splinter out of his foot.
When Severus didn’t speak, Harry lifted his head to see what had struck the man speechless, especially when he could have one-upped Harry’s pun. Severus stared, utterly gobsmacked, and more than alarmed, Harry twisted around to find two men in the clearing behind him--arms entwined, and lips engaged in a deep kiss.
Godric sat on the tree stump with Salazar once more, the babbling brook running right under their feet. They were gently kissing one another, beards rustling, eyes closed, and Salazar’s hand tangled in the long, loose red hair of his lover. It was unbelievably erotic, and almost...sweet. At least Harry thought so. He wondered if the strange chemistry that seemed to leap between Slytherin House and Gryffindor House originated with these two–for both Houses were desperately passionate, as Harry could relate in great detail, whether in anger or in love.
Behind them, what looked oddly like the Mirror of Erised sat glinting in the early evening light.
"The prodigal children return," Salazar said without looking at them, and instead nipped his lover’s lower lip, tracing the little hurt with his tongue. The lines of his face were taut, despite the relaxing activity he was engaging in. "You both did very well, all things considered. How are you feeling?"
"We’ve been better." Harry pulled out another splinter from his foot and glared. "The cliff was a nice touch."
"Thank you, I thought so."
"Well, what’s next?"
Godric and Salazar traded a glance and above them, the sky cracked with thunder.
Godric knew something; it was in his eyes, in his face, in his expression as he regarded them. "I originally had quite the adventure planned, but circumstances have changed. I’m sorry to say you won’t take with you all the lessons we hoped you would."
"This is the last lesson?" Severus said, warily.
"You will only have to face one more challenge and we will give you what you seek," Godric affirmed with a nod of his head.
Severus’ lips turned down. "Has he strengthened?"
The men did not answer him but Harry hadn’t really expected them to. The powerful black cloud crackling overhead answered for them.
Salazar sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. His fingers shook the smallest bit. "There’s one thing you must do for me after I tell you your riddle. Do you agree, even without knowing what it could be?"
"Yes," Harry said at once, and winced at Severus’ low hiss.
"You fool! You don’t even know what it could be! You may have damned us both!"
Harry glanced at him. "We don’t have time to play coy anymore, Severus." He lifted the stone hanging between them, nearly depleted of energy and a sickly gray color. "The stone is going to crumble if we stay much longer."
It was obvious Severus didn’t like that, but he didn’t respond but for a glare. Before them, Salazar inclined his head. As soon as he started to speak the riddle, there was a slight stirring of something in the air, a cold current dancing over both Severus and Harry, making them shiver.
"What does man love more than life?
Fear more than death or mortal strife?
What do the poor have, what the rich require,
And what do contented men desire?
What does the miser spend, the spendthrift save,
And all men carry to their grave?"
Harry pursed his lips, brow wrinkled in thought. His head, throbbing with exhaustion, hardly wanted him to muck through it to find an answer, but he forced himself to think. Death and mortal strife, what does man love more than life, and what do all men carry to their graves....he turned his eyes to Severus’, who looked equally as puzzled.
"I want for you both to kiss," Salazar said calmly through their confused pondering.
There was silence.
"Kiss?" Harry asked, in a low, strangled voice.
Godric nodded for his lover. "Kiss."
It didn't seem very difficult -- hardly a challenge at all, and he had only to look at the two founders to realize they were dead serious.
He turned to Severus, the chain clinking between them, and Severus tilted Harry’s face up to meet his with business-like authority. Harry gently pulled the glasses from Severus’ nose, so they wouldn’t bump with his own, and canted his head so their noses wouldn't hit. Their lips met, carefully, slightly dry. For a moment the kiss was devoid of emotion. What a mouth it was, lovely and soft and warm, and Harry sighed into those lips, licking over them once before opening his mouth to Severus’ query.
The passions of before returned, threefold, when Severus responded above him. That gorgeous mouth opened to his kisses, opened to his delight, gasping softly as tongues met and pleasure was shared. The heat flared between them, eliciting deep, heartfelt moans from their chests as the flame roared into an inferno.
The kiss turned desperate, gropes and sucks, licks and nips, until for a frightening moment, Harry thought he’d lose control, throw Severus to the ground and show him just what he’d been missing. He reigned himself in and let go with a soft sound, gently pressing kisses to the corner of those infuriating lips, tracing the indent with his tongue in answer to Severus’ low sigh of pleasure. Harry’s gentle fingertips traced the tyro pin on Severus’ shirt, memorizing the cold medal under his fingertips. Beautiful, stubborn, wonderful, sentimental bastard.
"The Mirror of Erised," he murmured into Severus’ cheek.
"What about it?" Severus whispered back.
Harry turned his head to look at it, at his and Severus’ reflection. In the glass Severus lips traced down his throat to nibble at his adams apple, hands tight around his back.
Much like the Severus before him was doing.
"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on whosi’. I show not your face but your heart's desire. Dumbledore told me, when I found the mirror, that, "the happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror like a normal mirror, and would see himself exactly as he is. It shows nothing more or less than the deepest desire of our hearts." What does man love more than life? What does he fear more than death? What do the poor have? What do men carry to their graves?" Harry paused softly, willing Severus to discover the answer with him. "What would make you happier than you are in this very instant?"
"Nothing," Severus murmured back, and kissed him again, licking over the words.
"Exactly," Harry answered with a smile. "Nothing." He lifted his head to Salazar and Godric. "The answer is ‘nothing’."
Severus raised his eyes. "That was far too simple."
"Perhaps," Godric said with a soft look at his lover. Beside him, Salazar looked as if the snicker got stuck somewhere in the back of his throat.
Godric rose to his feet, well-oiled boots gleaming in the, early evening, gloomy light. In his hand he held the thing Harry and Severus had been searching for, the very thing that would save them all.
"It’s so small," Harry said in awe, and picked up the chain holding the white Sorcerer’s Stone from Godric’s hand. It was a creamy, slick shade of white; shiny but rough along the edges, as it if had never been completed. It had been built into a chain like the one Harry and Severus wore, but it was much larger, and shaped into a raised crest of a Phoenix. It was heavy hanging from the chain, heavier than the laws of nature suggested it should be. "Why is it white?"
"Because this stone, unlike the one you wear along your neck, does not repel magic. It accepts it. Be careful to always hold it by the chain," Godric murmured.
"There is no time to dawdle," Salazar said, hands trembling, mouth tight. The wizard rose from the tree stump, his hands going to his sword instinctively and grasping tight, as if deathly aware of some unseen danger. "The end of your road is with me, little snake. You must go forth and succeed in what you wish to do."
"Has he gathered his minions, then?" Severus asked, no nonsense, hand clenched on his wand.
His voice surprised Harry, and he glanced up. "Who?"
"They wait for you right outside the gate," Godric answered, before turning his gaze to Harry. "Voldemort, Harry. Voldemort is waiting for you, with over sixty of his Death Eaters and more on the way."
"Sixty..."
Sixty Death Eaters. Could he possibly take on sixty Death Eaters?
Oh, God.
Terror seized his heart and clenched its fists around him. He shuddered with it, and knew, beyond a doubt, they could not win. "There’s no way we can fight sixty wizards and kill Voldemort as well."
No possible way. But worse, much worse than losing his own life, would be what Voldemort would do with both the stone and Severus. The traitor, the spy. Harry got horrible images of Severus, tortured and crucified, kept alive for the amusement of the other Death Eaters who sought vengeance in Dumbledore’s Order.
"That is where you are mistaken. There is a way," Godric said, and beside him, Salazar tensed. They seemed to have an unspoken argument between them as all lovers did, before Godric’s blue eyes met Harry’s. They were a firm, bracing blue. "If you allow me, Harry, I will lend you my magic and shield your flesh until you are ready to land the killing blow upon Salazar’s ancestor. I will be your defense–if you are killed, it is I who will die. You will have a second chance, for I will heal you."
"But how...you’re already dead?" Harry said.
"Yes, and no," Godric said, but did not elaborate. "Will you allow me to do this, Harry?"
"I don’t want to be responsible for destroying the man who created my house," Harry said, fiercely. "I don’t want to destroy a part of Hogwarts like that."
"You won’t," Salazar answered for his lover, eyebrow arching up high. "You do not understand the might of my lover, little snake, and you underestimate your own. You are the most powerful wizard in many millennia, Harry. Trust in your gifts."
Harry looked at the both of them for a long, long moment, considering their honesty, their eyes, before looking up at Severus. "What do you think?"
If Severus was speechless for a moment, it didn’t show. He gave Godric a long, meaningful stare instead, cold as ice before warming when he gazed down at Harry. "You must, Harry. It’s the only way. We cannot kill Voldemort on our own; there are too many Death Eaters. The Order will never reach us in time."
Harry’s heart flashed hot and horrified and angry. He was not a trustful man by nature, and after his seventh year, he’d become down right paranoid. He didn’t object to what they were saying in his mind, but his heart was furious with the knowledge that, yet again, they were forcing this upon him.
He was deathly afraid, not of Death Eaters and Voldemort, but of losing a part of himself he had so struggled to find when he’d left for France.
"I don’t want to go," he said, quietly. He was so tired. This place meant more to him than anything he’d ever felt for that very reason, because despite the weariness in his bones, he knew he could find a warm stretch of grass with the sun falling over him, and he would finally be at peace His Gryffindor courage had finally failed him.
He couldn’t say he missed it, for all the good it had done him.
"You can take the stone back, Severus, and give it to Dumbledore. He’ll know what to do with it."
Severus stared down at him, with shock first, and then a sort of weary understanding. His long-fingered hands rested on each of Harry’s shoulders, and Severus turned him away from Godric and Salazar’s intense gazes. "Harry, you cannot stay here; it’s not your time, not yet. You must live through this task that has been given to you, and you must trust my judgement this one last time, even if you can never find it in yourself to trust me again. I know you are tired–I’m tired, as well, but this place is not for you yet. You have too many people to love, and too much to do. You cannot give up when happiness is so close, Harry."
Harry looked up at Severus and saw for the first time, in those usually sneering, wicked eyes, the truth that Severus was trying to show him. "It’ll be over, if I kill him."
"Yes," Severus murmured, and pressed a hesitant, but sweet kiss to his lips. "Yes, Harry. It will be over, and you can finally be happy."
Harry shook his head, squeezing Severus’ own arms before he buried his face in the warm chest. He embraced Severus as gently but as firmly as he could, pressing a warm kiss to the side of a long neck. "It’s not about my happiness, Severus. I don’t want Hermione and Ron’s unborn children, or Emily, or any of the students at Hogwarts to grow up like we did. I want them to be free."
Severus traced his jaw with his thumb, softly. "Than do this, Harry, and trust that I will be at your side."
The damning thing was, Harry did trust. He trusted more than he could bear, and it nearly tore his heart asunder.
"All right then." He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the stone calmly, before handing it to Severus. "For safe keeping."
Severus ducked his head to catch Harry’s eyes as he took the stone. "We will be successful, Mr. Potter."
"I know."
They looked up to see Godric gently kissed Salazar’s upturned lips. "Soon, lover."
They looked up to see Godric standing beside them, holding a hand out to each of them to draw them back to their feet. "You are both courageous," he said softly. "Don't ever believe that your courage has deserted you, Harry, because it is what you are. You have passed every test we have thrown at you, including this place; it was made a paradise, and you can take courage from the person you love to enable you to go on. And you, Severus, never question your courage either. For you were strong enough to persuade the person you love to return to what could be certain death."
Severus and Harry both flushed and paled in turn, ignoring what Godric had said to them about their feelings for each other and allowing him to pull them to their feet. "Now, I must have my own courage." Godric turned to Salazar, and kissed him softly.
"Courageous fool," Salazar growled.
"Courageous fool."
"And you are without scruples, Salazar."
"Come home safe to me." The man’s voice was thick and tense, but it did not stop him from holding back the brush and vines hanging before a dark cave. His long-fingered hands trembled. "Strength, fortitude, and good fortune to you, Severus Snape of Slytherin, and Harry Potter of the noblest house of Gryffindor."
Godric gave Salazar one last, loving smile and turned to lift Harry’s chin. The touch was warm and cool at the same time. "You are the greatest wizard of your age, Harry. You are the Merlin of your people–a true Sorcerer. Don’t forget that."
Something was pressed into his hand and Harry looked down at the handle of the ruby dagger Godric wrapped Harry’s fingers around. His courage and his strength returned threefold when, in the far distance of his mind, a phoenix sang of hope. The warmth and pleasure of the sound made him smile up at Godric, only to find the man sweeping through the vines Salazar held back.
Harry felt a hand grasp his own, and didn’t have to look as he held Severus tightly and squeezed firmly.
Together, the sky rumbling, black with rain clouds and thunder, he and Severus stepped through the vines.
Salazar smiled at them as they passed into darkness, and the last thing Harry heard was his murmur. "Good luck, formidable children of Hogwarts."
OR
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