Because I get brave now and then...
So pretty much everyone knows I've been reading HP slash for a while now (and if you didn't, you do now. *g*). Anyway, I've been writing popslash for years, but I'm easing my way into writing HP slash. I have a few things done, but I haven't posted anything yet. I'm feeling brave tonight, though, so I'll post a short one. Here's the cliff notes version, the story is behind the cut.
Title: My Immortal
Rating: PG
Pairing: HP/SS
Summary: Snape's thoughts watching Harry leave Hogwarts on the the last day of seventh-year
Notes: This short story was inspired by the song My Immortal by Evanescense. Thanks to Music On Demand for the lyrics.
Also, this is one of the first HP fics I've written so please remember a rule your mom once taught you: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Criticism is fine, but please don't flame. I own nothing flame-resistant.
Disclaimer: Since all of the people who own a piece of Harry Potter and all the related characters are very, very rich and I am very, very poor, that means I own nothing. Pity me and don't sue.
My Immortal
Ah, finally the last day of watching him laugh with his friends from the staff table. Soon the train would arrive to take him and all the other students away for the summer. When it returns, he wouldn't be on it. Good riddance, Potter.
I don't know why I'm watching him anymore. He lived up to his end of the prophecy and sent Voldemort straight the hell with almost two handfuls of Death Eaters to keep the evil bastard company. Two months it's been now and I'm still watching him as if it were my duty passed on to me by Dumbledore. I'm tired of watching him. I'm so tired of being here. I'm tired of watching him laugh with his idiot friends. I'm tired of watching him act if the past seven years of his life wasn't just one long, bad dream he's finally woken from. I'm damn tired of watching him pretend he isn't the greatest wizard of his age… and several others if the truth be told. Greater than his father ever was, greater than I am, and in time better than Dumbledore. Of that I have no doubt.
More than anything I'm tired of the game between us. I know I started it, the Let's-See-Who-Hates-Whom-More game, but life is full of lessons learned. I let my own foolish belief that the son would become the father blind me. Suppressed by all of my childish fears. But then my feelings for his father never turned the way they have for him.
I truly couldn't stand the boy in his first year. I saw the last name and the scar on his forehead and that was enough for me to hate him. His second and third years weren't much different, especially once that retched godfather of his was in his life. Him clinging to the man made me hate him twice as much. No, it was during his forth year, during and after that blasted tournament that he changed in my eyes ever so slightly. He'd survived Voldemort yet again, and while not unscathed, he was changed. He changed even more during his fifth year. I watched him suffer constantly at the hands of that vile Umbridge woman and still come out on top in the end. I had to admire the boy's tenacity.
That was truly my downfall, when my hated turned to silent admiration. As for the past two years, well, in my own defense I'm only human whether the students believe that or not. I have wants and needs the same as anyone else and he is soundly atop that list.
I glance at the clock and then back at my cold coffee cup. I wish that blasted train would hurry. The waiting for this is nearly as excruciating as waiting for that finally battle had been. And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave. Then I can return to my chambers in peace. Not that I'll find it there either since he's been there as well. How many times had the boy fallen asleep on my sofa in an exhausted sleep after thirteen hours of classes and Dark Arts training? How many sandwiches and glasses of pumpkin juice has he inhaled at my table? More than I care to count even though I can. Vividly. Because your presence still lingers here, and it won't leave me alone. My chambers will never be free of him, haunting my mind each time I step into them. He will forget our times soon enough if he hasn't already, but I never will. He'll always be there.
"Malfoy!" I yell, and the blonde looks at me from the Slytherin table. "Make sure the first and second years are all on that train before you leave. If even one is left behind I shall be at your home before you arrive."
"Yes, sir," the boy says, looking at me confused.
I cannot say I blame him since I have rarely yelled at him during his years at the school. Certainly not even after Harry put his father in a coffin with the boy's blessing. Harry. I turn and look at him again and he's watching me now with a concerned expression. Don't act as if you care anymore, Potter, because I know you don't. These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real. While my opinion of you has changed drastically you still look at me and see through a child's eyes. Perhaps that is a bit harsh. I know you consider me a friend, but no more. My mentoring of you ceased two months ago and you have not sought out my company for anything more than tutoring for your N.E.W.T.s. You may think of me as a friend and ally, but when you look at me you still see an old, greasy bastard potions professor. There's just too much that time cannot erase. It's the same opinion you had of me on your first day at this school. I supposed it is only fitting that you leave here with the same opinion.
No. It's not fitting, not after all we have been through together. Do you not remember all the times I was there for you? When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears, when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears, and I held your hand through all of these years. All the sacrifices I made to keep you safe? Do you even know what I went through being a spy in Voldemort's camp? No, you don't because I refused to allow Dumbledore to tell you. You are too young to understand even with all you've lived through. I will not be responsible for destroying what little youthful innocence you still possess. I may not have any of you, but you still have all of me. My watchful eye, my rage at your admittedly much less often bouts of defiance, and my ear and shoulder should you need them. And however reluctantly, you have one more thing of mine I shall never regain from you: my heart.
"If I can have your attention for but one more moment," Dumbledore smiles standing up, and the room silence falls over the room. "As much as it pains myself and the rest of the staff to say so, we have reached the end of another term. The train has arrived at Hogsmeade Station to return you all to your families. For those I will see next term I will look forward to that day, and for those leaving for their final time know that you are always welcome within these walls. Head Boy and Girl, Prefects, please lead the first and second years to the trains. Third and forth years shall follow them and so on and so on. Have a wonderful summer."
I watch Malfoy stand and organize the first and second years with Pansy before they're leading them towards the doors. The rest of my house stands and follows behind in a group. I will myself not to look at the Gryffindor table, but I fail.
This is it; the last time I will see him at that favorite table of Dumbledore's. The last time I'll see that scar illuminated by a spelled-candle ceiling, the last time I'll see his smile that makes those around him do the same. You used to captivate me by your resonating light. He truly is a remarkable man. The effect he has on those around him makes me believe that goodness does exist in this world. He's even made me smile once or twice, but never again. Because he's leaving and I am not.Now I'm bound by the life you left behind. I don't want to be here anymore, not with the memory of him alive in every corridor of this castle. The library, the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall - he's everywhere, even in my bedroom in the middle of the night where I wake up in a mess of myself. Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams, your voice it chased away all the sanity in me. It's only my unconscious mind being as cruel to me as I have been to him in the past. I can touch him, taste him, have him, be with him only with my eyes closed. There in my sleep he is mine. I would willingly suffer the maddening effects of multiple Cruciatus Curses for just one precious moment awake with him. Then again if all I could have were one moment the curses would be welcome. To only have one moment and no more would make me mad with the memory. I have enough of those to live with as it is.
He moves closer to the door talking and laughing with Weasley and Granger and I feel sick. I cannot watch this. I cannot watch him walk away even as he walked away from me months ago. I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone. He has been gone from my life as anything more than a student for some time now and I have accepted that. Yes, he will return for occasional visits, but he will not seek me out when he does. There is no reason to. So this is goodbye, Harry Potter. And though you're still with me, I've been alone all along. Solitude has been my friend for much longer than you have, or were as the case is. Go with your real friends Granger and Weasley. You're done here. Goodbye.
I frown when I see Malfoy return to the Great Hall. He is supposed to be loading first and second years on the train, not walking up to Harry Potter. He is definitely not supposed to talk and laugh with the Gryffindor trio. And whatever Malfoy said to him has him rubbing the back of his neck while Granger, Weasley, and a few others laugh hysterically. He turns and looks at Dumbledore and I see the headmaster nod with a wide smile before he turns back to his friends, who apparently now include Draco Malfoy among their number. Granger is saying something now and he's nodding while lowering his hand. He takes a few steps back from them and they don't move other than to all take seats on top of the empty tables. They'll miss the train if they don't hurry, but then they all have apparating licenses now so it does not much matter. What in the bloody hell are they waiting for?
My question is soon answered when Harry rounds the table and shakes hands with Flitwick, says goodbye to Binns and the others on the other end, then hugs Pomfrey and McGonagall tightly thanking them profusely for everything. Then it's Dumbledore, who gathers the boy-correction, man-in his arms. He buries his face in the headmaster's robes and the man laughs softly, ruffles his hair, and then tells him to go. He nods pulling back and looks at his friends still on the tables. Why in the hell am I still watching him!
"Malfoy, I thought I told you-"
"Already taken care of, sir," the boy grins. "Come on, Potter. You're full of shit and always have been."
"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall shouts frowning, and Harry's three friends laugh.
"I said I was going do it and I'm going to," Harry says, and I turn and look at him again. When did he move from Dumbledore to standing next to me? I raise an eyebrow at him standing up and then look at his friends, the lot of them wearing nearly blinding grins. I look back at him annoyed.
"What are you up to, Potter?" I ask, and the irritation is thick in my tone. I remember the first time we stood face to face he barely reached the top of my abdomen. It is yet another thing that has changed because now I barely have to look down four inches to face him.
"Me, up to something?" he asks with mock hurt in his tone.
The others in the room, including all those at the table laugh. He laughs softly and I know he's up to something now. If I didn't know for certain it was impossible I would swear he was Dumbledore's son from that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It's damned irritating.
"Get on with it, Potter."
"Harry," he says softly, and I cross my arms over my chest waiting for him to finish whatever this little game of his is and go. I don't want to play it anymore. "Neither do I," he says, and I just stare at him. "Sorry, but I had to know if I was just seeing things, and-well-you were so caught up in your thoughts you didn't notice me tapping my way in all morning."
"How dare you!" I'm beyond irate at his invasion of my mind. I hear the others in the room rush to their feet, but he's not scared. I should kill him for this, for using the lessons I taught him against me.
"I had to! You were going to let me walk out of here and never say a fucking word! If I would've known sooner I wouldn't have stopped coming down to see you and I wouldn't have gave a damn what your house thought about it," he yells back. "I stopped because I didn't know! I thought you wanted me to leave you alone since Voldemort was dead; that you'd done your part and put up with me, that you didn't want me around you anymore. Dammit, why didn't you tell me?"
I have his robes clenched in my fists in seconds, my mouth swiftly taking his. I can hear the whoops and whistles of his friends in the background, but they're unimportant. What matters is his body molding into mine kissing me back, one hand looped around the back of my neck and his fingers in my hair. And he's not letting go. My breaths are his exhaled ones and vice versa. I tap at his mind just to see his response and it opens wide to me. The truth of his words is there along with memories of nights such as mine; waking up sticky and spent. His are different in one way, though, because tears were what sent him back to a restless sleep. Tears shed because he did not know.
I break the kiss and force him to look up at me, a hand on either side of his face. He lowers his hand and turns towards his friends slowly so my hands don't slip away. I look too and they're all smiling happily.
"Told you I'd do it," he says, and they all laugh. Even I crack what can be passed for a smile looking back at him lowering my hands.
"When you have said goodbye to your friends you know where to find me," I say, trying to regain some bit of the composure I'd lost after his admission.
He nods and embraces me tightly, kisses the side of my neck telling me he'll be there in ten minutes. I don't like it when Malfoy says twenty, but I relent. After waiting an eternity of two months, twenty minutes is not so long a time. I nod at my colleagues at the tables and try not to roll my eyes at the mixture of amused and happy return nods. Sweeping from the hall headed for my chambers I take one more glance at him walking out with his friends. He really is an astonishing individual. He is The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who, and most importantly to me, My Immortal.
~Fin~
Title: My Immortal
Rating: PG
Pairing: HP/SS
Summary: Snape's thoughts watching Harry leave Hogwarts on the the last day of seventh-year
Notes: This short story was inspired by the song My Immortal by Evanescense. Thanks to Music On Demand for the lyrics.
Also, this is one of the first HP fics I've written so please remember a rule your mom once taught you: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Criticism is fine, but please don't flame. I own nothing flame-resistant.
Disclaimer: Since all of the people who own a piece of Harry Potter and all the related characters are very, very rich and I am very, very poor, that means I own nothing. Pity me and don't sue.
My Immortal
Ah, finally the last day of watching him laugh with his friends from the staff table. Soon the train would arrive to take him and all the other students away for the summer. When it returns, he wouldn't be on it. Good riddance, Potter.
I don't know why I'm watching him anymore. He lived up to his end of the prophecy and sent Voldemort straight the hell with almost two handfuls of Death Eaters to keep the evil bastard company. Two months it's been now and I'm still watching him as if it were my duty passed on to me by Dumbledore. I'm tired of watching him. I'm so tired of being here. I'm tired of watching him laugh with his idiot friends. I'm tired of watching him act if the past seven years of his life wasn't just one long, bad dream he's finally woken from. I'm damn tired of watching him pretend he isn't the greatest wizard of his age… and several others if the truth be told. Greater than his father ever was, greater than I am, and in time better than Dumbledore. Of that I have no doubt.
More than anything I'm tired of the game between us. I know I started it, the Let's-See-Who-Hates-Whom-More game, but life is full of lessons learned. I let my own foolish belief that the son would become the father blind me. Suppressed by all of my childish fears. But then my feelings for his father never turned the way they have for him.
I truly couldn't stand the boy in his first year. I saw the last name and the scar on his forehead and that was enough for me to hate him. His second and third years weren't much different, especially once that retched godfather of his was in his life. Him clinging to the man made me hate him twice as much. No, it was during his forth year, during and after that blasted tournament that he changed in my eyes ever so slightly. He'd survived Voldemort yet again, and while not unscathed, he was changed. He changed even more during his fifth year. I watched him suffer constantly at the hands of that vile Umbridge woman and still come out on top in the end. I had to admire the boy's tenacity.
That was truly my downfall, when my hated turned to silent admiration. As for the past two years, well, in my own defense I'm only human whether the students believe that or not. I have wants and needs the same as anyone else and he is soundly atop that list.
I glance at the clock and then back at my cold coffee cup. I wish that blasted train would hurry. The waiting for this is nearly as excruciating as waiting for that finally battle had been. And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave. Then I can return to my chambers in peace. Not that I'll find it there either since he's been there as well. How many times had the boy fallen asleep on my sofa in an exhausted sleep after thirteen hours of classes and Dark Arts training? How many sandwiches and glasses of pumpkin juice has he inhaled at my table? More than I care to count even though I can. Vividly. Because your presence still lingers here, and it won't leave me alone. My chambers will never be free of him, haunting my mind each time I step into them. He will forget our times soon enough if he hasn't already, but I never will. He'll always be there.
"Malfoy!" I yell, and the blonde looks at me from the Slytherin table. "Make sure the first and second years are all on that train before you leave. If even one is left behind I shall be at your home before you arrive."
"Yes, sir," the boy says, looking at me confused.
I cannot say I blame him since I have rarely yelled at him during his years at the school. Certainly not even after Harry put his father in a coffin with the boy's blessing. Harry. I turn and look at him again and he's watching me now with a concerned expression. Don't act as if you care anymore, Potter, because I know you don't. These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real. While my opinion of you has changed drastically you still look at me and see through a child's eyes. Perhaps that is a bit harsh. I know you consider me a friend, but no more. My mentoring of you ceased two months ago and you have not sought out my company for anything more than tutoring for your N.E.W.T.s. You may think of me as a friend and ally, but when you look at me you still see an old, greasy bastard potions professor. There's just too much that time cannot erase. It's the same opinion you had of me on your first day at this school. I supposed it is only fitting that you leave here with the same opinion.
No. It's not fitting, not after all we have been through together. Do you not remember all the times I was there for you? When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears, when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears, and I held your hand through all of these years. All the sacrifices I made to keep you safe? Do you even know what I went through being a spy in Voldemort's camp? No, you don't because I refused to allow Dumbledore to tell you. You are too young to understand even with all you've lived through. I will not be responsible for destroying what little youthful innocence you still possess. I may not have any of you, but you still have all of me. My watchful eye, my rage at your admittedly much less often bouts of defiance, and my ear and shoulder should you need them. And however reluctantly, you have one more thing of mine I shall never regain from you: my heart.
"If I can have your attention for but one more moment," Dumbledore smiles standing up, and the room silence falls over the room. "As much as it pains myself and the rest of the staff to say so, we have reached the end of another term. The train has arrived at Hogsmeade Station to return you all to your families. For those I will see next term I will look forward to that day, and for those leaving for their final time know that you are always welcome within these walls. Head Boy and Girl, Prefects, please lead the first and second years to the trains. Third and forth years shall follow them and so on and so on. Have a wonderful summer."
I watch Malfoy stand and organize the first and second years with Pansy before they're leading them towards the doors. The rest of my house stands and follows behind in a group. I will myself not to look at the Gryffindor table, but I fail.
This is it; the last time I will see him at that favorite table of Dumbledore's. The last time I'll see that scar illuminated by a spelled-candle ceiling, the last time I'll see his smile that makes those around him do the same. You used to captivate me by your resonating light. He truly is a remarkable man. The effect he has on those around him makes me believe that goodness does exist in this world. He's even made me smile once or twice, but never again. Because he's leaving and I am not.Now I'm bound by the life you left behind. I don't want to be here anymore, not with the memory of him alive in every corridor of this castle. The library, the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall - he's everywhere, even in my bedroom in the middle of the night where I wake up in a mess of myself. Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams, your voice it chased away all the sanity in me. It's only my unconscious mind being as cruel to me as I have been to him in the past. I can touch him, taste him, have him, be with him only with my eyes closed. There in my sleep he is mine. I would willingly suffer the maddening effects of multiple Cruciatus Curses for just one precious moment awake with him. Then again if all I could have were one moment the curses would be welcome. To only have one moment and no more would make me mad with the memory. I have enough of those to live with as it is.
He moves closer to the door talking and laughing with Weasley and Granger and I feel sick. I cannot watch this. I cannot watch him walk away even as he walked away from me months ago. I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone. He has been gone from my life as anything more than a student for some time now and I have accepted that. Yes, he will return for occasional visits, but he will not seek me out when he does. There is no reason to. So this is goodbye, Harry Potter. And though you're still with me, I've been alone all along. Solitude has been my friend for much longer than you have, or were as the case is. Go with your real friends Granger and Weasley. You're done here. Goodbye.
I frown when I see Malfoy return to the Great Hall. He is supposed to be loading first and second years on the train, not walking up to Harry Potter. He is definitely not supposed to talk and laugh with the Gryffindor trio. And whatever Malfoy said to him has him rubbing the back of his neck while Granger, Weasley, and a few others laugh hysterically. He turns and looks at Dumbledore and I see the headmaster nod with a wide smile before he turns back to his friends, who apparently now include Draco Malfoy among their number. Granger is saying something now and he's nodding while lowering his hand. He takes a few steps back from them and they don't move other than to all take seats on top of the empty tables. They'll miss the train if they don't hurry, but then they all have apparating licenses now so it does not much matter. What in the bloody hell are they waiting for?
My question is soon answered when Harry rounds the table and shakes hands with Flitwick, says goodbye to Binns and the others on the other end, then hugs Pomfrey and McGonagall tightly thanking them profusely for everything. Then it's Dumbledore, who gathers the boy-correction, man-in his arms. He buries his face in the headmaster's robes and the man laughs softly, ruffles his hair, and then tells him to go. He nods pulling back and looks at his friends still on the tables. Why in the hell am I still watching him!
"Malfoy, I thought I told you-"
"Already taken care of, sir," the boy grins. "Come on, Potter. You're full of shit and always have been."
"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall shouts frowning, and Harry's three friends laugh.
"I said I was going do it and I'm going to," Harry says, and I turn and look at him again. When did he move from Dumbledore to standing next to me? I raise an eyebrow at him standing up and then look at his friends, the lot of them wearing nearly blinding grins. I look back at him annoyed.
"What are you up to, Potter?" I ask, and the irritation is thick in my tone. I remember the first time we stood face to face he barely reached the top of my abdomen. It is yet another thing that has changed because now I barely have to look down four inches to face him.
"Me, up to something?" he asks with mock hurt in his tone.
The others in the room, including all those at the table laugh. He laughs softly and I know he's up to something now. If I didn't know for certain it was impossible I would swear he was Dumbledore's son from that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It's damned irritating.
"Get on with it, Potter."
"Harry," he says softly, and I cross my arms over my chest waiting for him to finish whatever this little game of his is and go. I don't want to play it anymore. "Neither do I," he says, and I just stare at him. "Sorry, but I had to know if I was just seeing things, and-well-you were so caught up in your thoughts you didn't notice me tapping my way in all morning."
"How dare you!" I'm beyond irate at his invasion of my mind. I hear the others in the room rush to their feet, but he's not scared. I should kill him for this, for using the lessons I taught him against me.
"I had to! You were going to let me walk out of here and never say a fucking word! If I would've known sooner I wouldn't have stopped coming down to see you and I wouldn't have gave a damn what your house thought about it," he yells back. "I stopped because I didn't know! I thought you wanted me to leave you alone since Voldemort was dead; that you'd done your part and put up with me, that you didn't want me around you anymore. Dammit, why didn't you tell me?"
I have his robes clenched in my fists in seconds, my mouth swiftly taking his. I can hear the whoops and whistles of his friends in the background, but they're unimportant. What matters is his body molding into mine kissing me back, one hand looped around the back of my neck and his fingers in my hair. And he's not letting go. My breaths are his exhaled ones and vice versa. I tap at his mind just to see his response and it opens wide to me. The truth of his words is there along with memories of nights such as mine; waking up sticky and spent. His are different in one way, though, because tears were what sent him back to a restless sleep. Tears shed because he did not know.
I break the kiss and force him to look up at me, a hand on either side of his face. He lowers his hand and turns towards his friends slowly so my hands don't slip away. I look too and they're all smiling happily.
"Told you I'd do it," he says, and they all laugh. Even I crack what can be passed for a smile looking back at him lowering my hands.
"When you have said goodbye to your friends you know where to find me," I say, trying to regain some bit of the composure I'd lost after his admission.
He nods and embraces me tightly, kisses the side of my neck telling me he'll be there in ten minutes. I don't like it when Malfoy says twenty, but I relent. After waiting an eternity of two months, twenty minutes is not so long a time. I nod at my colleagues at the tables and try not to roll my eyes at the mixture of amused and happy return nods. Sweeping from the hall headed for my chambers I take one more glance at him walking out with his friends. He really is an astonishing individual. He is The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who, and most importantly to me, My Immortal.
~Fin~