Harry made his way somewhat dazedly to Transfiguration Class. With each step he took he replayed the events of the last few minutes over and over in his head - each heated glance, each mind blowing kiss, each slow caress of Severus' long graceful fingers. Severus really did have beautiful hands. He shivered, torn between giddy delight, mind numbing shock and skin burning embarrassment.
Oh, my god, he thought to himself, he'd just made out with the Potions Master. At least he thought that constituted 'making-out' - he wasn't entirely certain about the specifics. Granted he'd always been led to believe that there was supposed to be a couch involved, and they'd been lying on the floor. But still - it had felt like he'd always imagined it would - better in fact.
Well, not at first, he thought. He'd been frightened at first since Severus had been so angry. He noticed he had a talent for making Severus angry.
But then something had changed - he'd felt it the moment everything had shifted between them. And when Severus had begun whispering to him and kissing him so carefully and tenderly, something had just melted inside of him. He'd thought the few kisses they had exchanged before had been amazing - but nothing had made him feel like this had. Coupled with the sound of Severus' voice - did anyone else in the world have a voice as singularly sexy as Severus Snape - Harry had simply surrendered utterly to the moment.
Why was it that though he tried to see himself as strong and aggressive, he always ended up feeling so turned on by the sensation of a powerful male body holding him down? Severus tended to dominate him the few times he'd kissed him - even tonight when his aggression had vanished, replaced instead by something far sweeter, Severus had still been the one completely in control, overwhelming Harry's senses. And for some reason Harry's body responded to that energy. Just the mere thought of the way Severus manipulated him, controlled him, moved against him, his weight and heat pressing down into him - Harry had to stop in the hallway to get himself under control. Bloody hell - he could hardly walk into Professor McGonagall's classroom flushed and aroused.
The thought of Professor McGonagall seemed to do the trick for him and a moment later he continued his journey, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts had gone. But this was probably normal, he told himself. This is what all the students his age were supposed to be thinking about - certainly these sorts of things were what the boys in the dormitories discussed at night in rather crude terms.
Well, not this, exactly - they certainly weren't talking about any of their teachers. Certainly not their Potions Master - a year ago Harry would have been horrified by even the thought. Actually, come to think of it, he'd heard a number of students - mostly girls of course - talking about Remus Lupin during his third year. And certainly everyone talked about Sinistra. And a couple of weeks ago he'd heard a group of Hufflepuffs talk about how much they enjoyed it when Professor Snape loomed over them in Potions Class. Harry frowned.
It was definitely normal, he decided. He'd always felt a bit left out of the conversations the boys had in the dormitories. He'd never had the obsession with sex that other boys his age apparently had - as if his hormones had never really kicked in. At least not until Severus had come along - and then he'd been plagued with dreams he'd been completely unprepared for. The whole idea that he was interested in men had definitely caught him off guard - add to that the idea that he apparently liked the rather aggressive, dominant nature of a certain Slytherin was really messing with his self image. Oh, lord, he thought, why wasn't there a play-book for this sort of thing like there was for Quidditch matches?
Reaching the classroom door he pulled it open and attempted to slip in silently. Class was already underway, and everyone turned to stare at him as he entered. Professor McGonagall, who was holding a heavy book in one hand and her wand in the other, peered sternly at him as he made his way toward the only empty seat available next to Neville.
"Glad you could join us, Mr. Potter," McGonagall remarked as every eye in the room followed him toward his seat. This was a joint Slytherin/Gryffindor class and he suspected that everyone in the room could guess where he'd been that morning and were probably dying to know what had happened. Certainly Draco looked ready to burst, and Ron and Hermione, sitting directly in front of Neville, were giving him looks of heavy inquiry.
"Thank you, Ma'am," he said to McGonagall. "Sorry I'm late."
She nodded and then continued on with her lecture. Apparently they were working on the complex transfiguration of changing pebbles into actual books. Neville shoved his own textbook toward Harry since Harry had walked out of his room without his school supplies.
Harry tried to listen to the lecture - he really tried - but all he could think about was what had happened with Severus. He had a date with Severus Snape, he thought almost gleefully. It occurred to him that a year ago such a thought would have filled him with horror. As it was he was having a rather hard time imagining it - would it be like one of Ron's and Hermione's dates where they stared at each other with goofy expressions on their faces and held hands? He couldn't really picture it. He'd been quite serious when he'd said that Severus didn't do walks in the moonlight - Severus Snape wasn't the sort of man to behave in such a foolish, romantic manner.
And yet, Severus had been the one who brought up the topic of romance in the first place. A sensation of warmth flooded through Harry at the thought - he understood that Severus was doing all this entirely for his benefit, because he knew Harry couldn't think about any relationship in the terms more familiar to a Slytherin. But what if that was the only reason Severus was doing this? Harry frowned at the thought. What if Severus merely wanted to have sex with him and was willing to jump through whatever hoops he needed to get it?
But he hardly needed Harry for that, did he? Severus could find any number of people to have sex with if he was really that desperate - certainly if that was all he was interested in he'd find someone more suitable to his tastes than one scrawny, backwards Gryffindor. For that matter if Harry really was who he wanted, he hardly needed to jump through the hoops - Harry wasn't entirely certain he would have stopped Severus earlier if he hadn't stopped himself. Certainly his body had not wanted to stop regardless of the chaos in his mind and heart. Would he resist if tonight while they were lying in bed together Severus took him in his arms and started kissing him again?
He found himself shivering at the thought, his face growing hot. Thanks to all the conversations he'd had with various Weasleys, he had a fairly clear idea about what to expect - or at least he understood the mechanics of sex between two men. But the reality of it was a bit overwhelming - and he really had a hard time believing it wouldn't hurt. Bill and Charlie had both told him that if it was done right, it wouldn't hurt, not really - but Harry had thought about it and couldn't really believe it. How could it not hurt?
Then again, Draco never seemed to be in any sort of pain after spending the night with Charlie. He found himself glancing over at the blond Slytherin who was dutifully coping down notes. Maybe he and Charlie weren't actually doing it, he reason - or at least not that one specific thing. Some of the other things they'd described had sounded quite pleasant - odd, but pleasant. And then he remembered the rather enthusiastic way Charlie had explained things and he shook his head - no, they were definitely doing it.
Bloody Hell, he sighed. He knew he should have snuck into his cousin's room that one summer and stolen a peek at his porn collection while the family had been away. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so baffled by all this.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely even noticed when class ended and people began shuffling from the room. He was surrounded by Ron, Hermione and Draco almost immediately.
"So, how was it?" Hermione asked eagerly.
Harry found himself blanching at the question. What on earth? He hadn't said a word - they couldn't possibly know what Severus had done, or what he'd been thinking about.
"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed. "I hope it wasn't too painful."
Harry was fairly certain his face was growing redder by the moment. "What?" he squeaked in shock. "We didn't . . .I mean he. . ."
"Don't keep us in suspense, Potter," Draco demanded. "Give us all the details!"
The details! If there were a spell to make the floor open up and swallow him, Harry would have cast it immediately. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life enduring these utterly humiliating conversations about sex - though why in Merlin's name was Ron asking such things in front of Hermione? Normally he freaked out when such subjects were brought up in mixed company.
"Harry," Hermione protested. "The Wizengamot - what happened?"
Harry's thought screeched to a halt. The Wizengamot? Oh, my god, he thought to himself. He groaned and flushed in embarrassment - he'd actually managed to block pretty much everything except his last conversation with Severus from his mind. Yes, he thought to himself, it was official - he was a perfectly normal sixteen-year-old boy if the nature of his thoughts was anything to go on.
"Oh, that," he breathed a sigh of relief. Why did his life have to be so complicated?
"What did you think we were asking about?" Draco frowned in confusion.
"Don't ask," Harry mumbled to himself. "The Wizengamot - it. . .they. . .oh, bloody hell, I don't know where to begin."
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice caught all their attention. "You and the others have Herbology. If you don't head down to the greenhouse now, you'll be late. I think you've missed enough class as it is. You had all best run."
They nodded guiltily to the teacher and headed out the door, rushing to catch up with their classmates who were already long gone from the hallway. As they ran Harry promised to tell them all the details of his morning after dinner when he'd have more time. Though frustrated by the delay, the three of them agreed and barely made it down to the greenhouse before Sprout started class.
As it was Harry had to groan when Professor Sprout announced that the plants they were studying that afternoon were all rather powerful aphrodisiacs, and were used in a number of love potions. It seemed his mind was doomed to wander down inappropriate paths for the rest of the day.
The Daily Prophet issued an evening edition of their paper which was already making the rounds of Hogwarts by the time Harry and his friends made it downstairs for dinner. For the first time Harry was actually relieved to see the paper - it saved him from having to explain the major details of the day's events to his friends as it was all spelled out in black and white in the pages of the Prophet. For once the stories in the Prophet were surprisingly accurate, and it occurred to Harry that the Press had not been allowed in to the Wizengamot chamber that day. The bulk of their stories had to come directly from the court transcripts instead of Quick Quills and the inaccurate ramblings of the various reporters.
Even the description of Severus' duels were surprisingly accurate - Harry read the account in fascination since he'd only seen the end of the last duel. Apparently Severus and Sirius had both fought several different men prior to Harry's appearance. He guessed the details of the duels had come from several Aurors who'd witnessed the events and had filed official reports. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it would be possible to get rid of all the reporters and just stick with actual transcripts and Auror reports from now on.
The papers were making their way up and down the tables of the Great Hall and Harry was subjected to more than one stare of shock as the stories made their rounds. He glanced up at Severus at the head table, noting that the man was watching him intently, and he flushed under the scrutiny before turning his attention back to his own dinner. He was hungry tonight - he'd skipped breakfast and had barely eaten anything at lunch. He flushed rather pleasantly when he remembered why he had been so distracted at lunch. He wondered what Severus had spent the day thinking about?
He had only taken his second bite of Shepard's Pie before his meal was interrupted by Hermione who pulled his plate away from him and slapped the paper down in front of him instead.
"I was eating that," he protested.
"What is this all about?" Hermione demanded, pointing fiercely toward the top article in the paper. Ron and the rest of his year mates were staring at him, most of them leaning forward so that they could hear whatever he might say. Across from them he could see the Slytherins all turning to watch him - Draco had one of the papers in his hands and a look of utter shock on his face.
"What about it?" Harry shrugged. "It's pretty accurate for once. The Aurors hexed all the reporters so this came from the court transcripts, and I. . ."
"Harry," Hermione interrupted him. "You let Lucius Malfoy have a seat on the Wizengamot! Or in this case ten seats!"
"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," Harry sighed. He felt a strange twinge of pain in his forehead - a quiet dinner would have been nice for a change.
"The right thing to do?" Hermione asked in shock. "You give a position of power to one of the most prejudiced men in our country - a man who'd like to do away with anyone not a pureblood. On one hand you give Werewolves and Vampires an equal say in our government and then turn around and pit them against someone like Lucius Malfoy. If there's one person in this world who doesn't deserve a say in our future it's Lucius Malfoy. After everything he's done he doesn't deserve a second chance, and that's exactly what you've given him."
Harry blinked in surprise, seeing how impassioned Hermione was about this subject - even Remus and Sirius hadn't reacted so strongly. Looking around him at Ron who was staring pensively at him, and Neville who looked bewildered, and Seamus and Dean who looked as if he'd lost his mind, he had to sigh in frustration. It had been hard enough explaining all this to Severus, Remus and Sirius.
Across at the hall at other table he could see Draco watching him, wanting to understand as well - though the Slytherin had a faint gleam of hope in his eyes that was lacking in everyone else. Charlie, seated at the head table was speaking urgently to Remus and Sirius, no doubt trying to figure out how this would effect his own future. Lucius Malfoy was his father-in-law after all.
"Hermione," Harry said quietly. "You're right, Lucius Malfoy didn't deserve a second chance. But I don't want to live in a world where people get what they deserve."
"You . . .what?" Hermione looked flabbergasted by what he'd just said. Indeed so did the others.
"Think about it, Hermione," Harry told her. "Do you really want to live in a world where people get exactly what they deserve? Because if you do, then that means that my parents deserved to die, Cedric deserved to die. All those people the other day deserved to be eaten by that creature."
Hermione blanched at his words. "Harry, that's not the same thing," she told him.
"It is the same thing," he insisted, frowning when his head flashed with pain again. "Bad things happen to people who don't deserve them. So do good things. And if I'm the one who has to decide which of those things someone should get, then I'm going to hand out the good things and hope they change so that they do deserve them."
He could see frustration mingled with disbelief on Hermione's face. "Hope?" she asked softly. "Hope that Lucius Malfoy will reform himself? Does that really seem likely, Harry?"
"Am I only to hope in things that are certain?" Harry asked her. "If that were the case I would have given up on the world long ago."
"You can't save everyone, Harry," Hermione told him. "It's not possible."
"I can try," Harry insisted, and distantly he thought he heard the sound of wings fluttering. "I have to try." Another sharp spike of pain shot through his forehead and this time he winced, raising his hand to touch his scar.
"Harry?" Hermione asked in concern, and he felt Ron touch his arm.
"Harry, you okay, mate?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," he nodded his head. "Just a headache." The Ravens were back and they were whispering urgently to him. He tried to tune out the hundreds of voices in the Great Hall to hear what they were saying.
"Harry?" Ron's voice sounded worried. "Do you want me to get Professor Snape or Sirius?"
"No, I'm . . ." Harry began, shaking his head, and then a wave of power rushed through him and he gasped in shock, his body stiffening as he latched onto a mind that was not his own. One moment he was sitting in the Great Hall and the next he was in some dark underground chamber, standing upon a burning sigil that was etched into the cold flagstones of the floor. He had only a moment to glimpse that sigil - it was the mark the Elder Demon had etched all over the world in various locations, and superimposed over top of it was the familiar form of the Dark Mark.
He felt Voldemort's mind shift and move within him, felt his rage and his madness and his overwhelming satisfaction that at last it was all about to end. His reign over the earth was about to begin - uncontested and eternal. His enemies were all already dead - they just didn't know it yet.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort laughed. "Time's up."
And then Harry was back again in his own mind, back again in the Great Hall. He stood, scrambling away from Gryffindor table in horror. "That's it? That's the secret!" he shouted in horror, only vaguely aware that Ron and Hermione had risen with him and were reaching out to him, trying to calm him. He could feel blood dripping into his eyes as if his scar had split open. The Ravens were circling over head cawing to him, telling him to focus, telling him it was time.
Time's up - time to die. It was such a simple thing, such a simple secret - but the horror of what it would mean overwhelmed him.
He spun in shock, looking frantically around for help - all the teachers at the head table had stood to their feet in alarm. His eyes locked with Dumbledore's. "Oh, God, help me!" he pleaded.
The old man had already drawn his wand, and was moving away from his chair, attempting to maneuver around the head table so that he could reach his side. Sirius had knocked over his own chair and was climbing directly over the table, and Severus - he saw Severus doubling over, gasping in pain as he gripped his forearm where the Dark Mark was hidden by his robes. Over at Slytherin table two seventh year boys were holding their own forearms, hissing in agony as the hidden Marks on their own arms flared to life.
And then they all began falling, one by one like puppets whose strings had been cut.
Ron and Hermione, who were standing beside him, gripping his arms, gasped and slumped against him before sliding to the ground. Remus, who was trying to keep Severus upright, slipped beneath the head table. Sirius, who'd leaped over the table and was half way across the hall, stumbled and fell against the Ravenclaw table, knocking over several fourth year students who had already dropped face-first onto the table like the rest of their house mates. Hagrid's body shook the ground as he hit the floor beyond the head table. The entire house of Hufflepuff barely made a sound as they slumped against one another and stopped moving. The sound of daggers falling clattered through the hall as Slytherin House collapsed. Gryffindor House tumbled over like toy solders left out in the wind.
He heard the sound of wood striking the stone floor as Dumbledore's wand slipped from between his fingers. The old wizard stared at Harry in astonishment before he collapsed in a pile of flashing purple robes and snowy white hair.
This can not happen, Harry told himself as he stood alone in the unmoving hall. He could not allow this to happen. The Ravens were on his shoulders now, whispering into both his ears. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen bodies of Ron and Hermione, his hands splayed against the ancient flagstones of the floor.
"It's time," the Ravens told him and he saw images flashing through his mind, dreams coming back to haunt him. He remembered suddenly standing deep beneath Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets while Sirius Black transfigured the room Remus Lupin was sleeping in. He had touched their magical cores back then, had imagined that if he had just pushed he could have awakened Remus, quickened the life back into his veins, nullifying the magic of the Draught of the Living Death.
He reached out now with every sense he had, feeling for the magic around him. He could feel them all - Ron and Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Severus, Dumbledore. Those signatures were all so familiar to him, so dear to him - and beyond them, the other teachers, the other students, all of Ravenclaw with their cool intellect, and Hufflepuff with their airy warmth. Slytherin and Gryffindor were hot and fiery with passion both dark and light. He could feel them all - even beyond the Great Hall where a few stray members of the castle were lurking.
"It's time," the Ravens told him. "Do it now."
Harry pushed with everything he had inside him. He pushed against all those magical signatures, sending a surge of his own magic pulsing through all their veins, quickening their hearts, breathing life back into their magical cores. The Ravens took flight, and Harry nodded in understanding, sending his mind with them.
"There," they told him. "You must travel there." And Harry could see the great lines of light upon the ground, spreading out in all direction, like a glowing spiderweb that encompassed the earth. These ley lines sprang up from a deep wellspring of power deep within the earth's magical core - and of course it was the only option opened to Harry because he was just one sixteen-year-old boy after all and could not possibly possess the amount of power needed to do what must be done.
He pushed his mind farther outward, pushing his thoughts into those glowing lines of power, merging his own magic with them as he followed the Ravens into oblivion. He could feel the other minds now, all of them waiting for him, waiting for his touch to quicken their life. He pushed harder; his mind, his magic, his very soul spread out in all directions, moving farther and farther away from their point of origin, away from his body. He had to reach them all. They were calling to him now - calling his name, calling to his magic. They had answered him when he had called to them that night at Stonehenge - now it was his turn - time to burn, time to bleed, time to spill out his soul to awaken the world.
He felt his mind spinning away from him, his magic burning his soul as he reached for them all. And there amid the brilliant glowing embers of his people were the shadows - those with nothing inside them to touch, nothing inside them capable of reaching out to grasp even the smallest part of him.
"You must leave those," the Ravens told him, ordering him to turn away - there was no hope down that path.
But there were so many of them - so many - and Harry could feel their thoughts surging through him. He could not leave them, could not leave any of them. But there was nothing inside them to quicken - no ember to breathe back to full flame.
"Turn away!" the Ravens urged. "You cannot save them all!"
"I have to try!" Harry cried out. He pushed again, harder this time, abandoning his body and letting his mind sink utterly into the center of the earth.