The voice under all silences. Chapter 21

[pekeleke]

THE VOICE UNDER ALL SILENCES. Chapter 21 

It was Luc's owl, Augustus, the one to finally bring a halt to the quietly contented life that he'd managed to find with Potter.

Looking back on it, Severus should had seen it coming the moment the blasted bird refused to alight on the extended arm that he'd raised up for that very purpose. Choosing to fly straight towards the auror's chair and perch himself on the one immediately to the boy's left, instead.

An indignant hoot rent the air when the gryffindor ignored the animal in favor of continuing to stuff his mouth, inelegantly, with the disgustingly runny porridge that he seemed to be so fond of and that invariably managed to turn Severus' own stomach into a painful knot of nauseated dismay.

Feathers ruffled, Augustus hooted once more. Loudly. Impatiently. And the boy finally left his spoon to stare at the owl with gormless befuddlement.

“Are you sure you don't want Severus, old boy?"

He snorted into his cup of tea. Any idiot should be able to understand that a Malfoy's owl NEVER mistook its target. With the sheer amount of back-stabbing that went on within the rarefied world of cut-throat finance that Luc inhabited, to be in possession of any owl that could be easily misled, or tricked into delivering their post into the wrong hands, would be tantamount to either financial or political ruin. Both, in some cases.

As if reading his own thoughts, Augustus hooted indignantly and ruffled his feathers even more

violently. His dark beak snapped warningly in a sharp, displeased motion and he thrust his right leg forwards in owlish huff.

Potter laughed. Laughed. The idiot!. Didn't he know that Luc only ever used this particular owl to deliver the most delicate of missives?.

His chest clenched with the most awful premonition of imminent doom as those tanned digits set about to unravel the distinctive gray silk ribbon that the Malfoys always tied their correspondence with.

As soon as it had been relieved of the parchment the owl hooted. Wide brown eyes swiveled slowly to look straight at Severus with a strangely cognizant expression. His stomach dropped then, right down to his booted feet, and a lump the size of Mars lodged in his throat.

He was so preoccupied, watching the bird fly away, that he missed his companion's first look at the letter in question. Only becoming aware of the fact that whatever it carried had been delivered indeed when Potter's incensed growl exploded, like sudden thunder, in the silence of the room.

"That bastard!"

He turned startled dark eyes towards the boy. Body rigid in instinctive, defensive readiness to unseen danger and face pale with anxious expectation of disaster.

Luc... this was Luc!. The friend who, so very often, managed to ruin the relative peacefulness of Severus's strange life with his manipulative shenanigans.

Green eyes looked straight at him with the kind utter fierceness that he hadn't seen in days and his heart contracted painfully. A white-knuckled fist waved the heavy parchment, wildly, in front of his face and he could do nothing at all except stare dumbly at it.

Silence fell between them while he waited, poised at the very edge of a cliff that he didn't really want to look down to, for some sort of explanation. Finally, the boy sighed before asking with the kind of harsh tone that he hadn't heard from him in a while:

"Did you know that he was going to try this?"

He stiffened in outraged reaction to the tone. Mind buzzing with about a million and one possibilities for Potter's displeasure.

He'd known that Luc was unhappy with the idea of the vow that had initially forced his co-habitation with the auror. He'd suspected for a while that his friend would attempt to free him from it somehow. What he didn't know was... when. Or how.

He blinked very slowly, attempting to gain some extra-time to think and his eyebrow rose instinctively, irritating Potter even further.

"Severus!. Do. Not. Play. Slytherin. Games. With. Me!. Did you know what Malfoy was planning?"

He did not like the look of this. He did not like it at all:

"Unless you are referring to him paying a long overdue visit to that state of his, in France, I'm afraid that I'm still in the dark, Auror Potter. Maybe, if you were kind enough to share the contents of your correspondence with me, I would be able to see if I can assist you further"

The fist that fell with mighty force against the table rattled the whole contents of it. Severus jumped in his seat, utterly unnerved. He'd only ever seen Potter this enraged once before, back when he'd taken that first unaccompanied walk around the neighborhood.

"He is demanding that you return to your duties at once. Has convinced the whole bloody panel of governors to agree with that brainless idea. He apparently met them all “by coincidence” at a party that he was hosting and they started to discuss their concerns at your continued failure to present yourself at work.

He is virtually demanding that I escort you to your office by the first of the month or be ready to face a formal inquiry. I can't believe that he had the balls to try something like this!"

Severus was at sea. Completely, irremediably and absolutely lost. He could not make either heads nor tails out of all that incomprehensible nonsense. He blinked in bewildered astonishment and attempted to understand what was going on, but...

Other than the obvious, headache-inducing certainty that his friend, his clever and twisted friend, was indeed trying to help him out of what he believed to be coerced cohabitation by removing him from Potter's clutches, Severus could not actually understand anything else!.

He closed his eyes in sorrow. Realizing, without any of it ever needing to be voiced out loud, that his usually dismal luck had finally caught up with him... and now he was about to loose the meager amount of joy that he'd managed to find in recent weeks.

He was reluctant to remain bound to Potter if it was true that Luc had found a way, a secure way, to break the Wizard's Oath that he'd been tricked into swearing, but... he wasn't quite as eager to abandon this new and contented life that he now shared with the gryffindor as he'd once been, either.

He prayed to Salazar for this to be one of those occasions when Luc's help actually worked truly in his favor, instead of turning everything around him on it's head.

"Duties? Governors? My office? Potter... What in the mane of Merlin is going on?"

Startled green eyes, frozen with an odd kind of disconcertion, looked straight at him.

"What do you mean, Severus?"

He floundered on the receiving end of such obvious confusion from the boy. For a second he believed that he must have forgotten something crucial here, somehow. But... no. No...

He was certain that he held no job at all. He'd been in a bloody coma for four years!. He'd seen no one but Potter and a small bunch of well wishers since he'd woken up.

He was a magic-less freak, for goodness sake!. Who the Hell would have been idiotic enough to hire him?.

"What I meant is not the issue here, Mr. Potter. The important part is what you meant by the implication that I hold some kind of employed position. One that would demand the use of an office, no less!.

May I remind you that I am a virtual squib whose life has been literally frozen for years and, therefore, there's no way on Earth that I can have actual duties of any kind?"

Potter's face was gray with something akin to horror. His green eyes had grown to such dangerous proportions that they were threatening to pop right out of their sockets. His mouth opened at least twice to speak, but failed miserably. Managing only to bless Severus' ears with the absolutely unhelpful summation of:

"You don't know?... Oh, Shit!"

Now he was truly worried. His spine turned to stone and his throat dried to the consistency of dust, in heart-pounding expectation of some perfectly dreadful news.

The auror's wide palm dug anxious furrows all over the already messy thatch of dark curls that topped his head and a short kind of almost explosive silence descended between them.

"How could you not know?. I thought Professor Mcgonagal told you!"

He was even more distressed at the mention of Minnie. Dear Founders... What could possibly be so bad that they thought he'd only take it with equanimity if it came from her?.

"Told me what?"

"I wasn't trying to hide it, Severus!. She said that she was going to tell you and it didn't even occur to me that she hadn't, you see?. It just... It hasn't come up in conversation so far... and I assumed that you both must have agreed with my opinion that it's dangerous for you to return there, at least until your magic is fully restored. Edwardson seemed happy enough with that plan just last week!"

One word alone, among all the rest, made sudden sense to him. It was that name: one that he hadn't bothered to think about in a very long time, the one to spark all kinds of triggers within his head.

His black eyes widened with the most horrific foreboding as he formulated a single, sharp-toned question:

"Edwardson?. Did you just say Edwardson, Potter?. As in... Maximilian Lithmius Edwardson, the Head of Hogwarts Board of Governors?"

Potter's head shot jerkily up and down in a voiceless, soundless, utterly gob-smacking gesture of assent. He felt cold down to his toes and his gut knotted into a million tangled loops of icy dread.

"Why would Max even talk to you?. He must be two hundred by now already. He hardly leaves that house of his, unless it's to deal with important school-related matters"

Green eyes fixed him with a firm and soothing look.

"It's O.K. Severus, I promise!. There is no need for you to lose all color like that!. Minerva has everything under control, you see?. She's been keeping an eye on things all this time. There's no need for you to panic. I'm sure she'll be happy enough to continue holding the fort until you recover completely.

Now we only have to fire-call Malfoy and find out what the Hell he was thinking!. It isn't safe enough for you, in your current state, to return to a school that's filled to the brim with magical children. Anything could happen to you, for Godric's sake!. Anything at all.

There's no way that you could defend yourself from any misfired or botched spells, if they were to be accidentally directed your way during something as simple as a stroll through the corridors..."

He was becoming more and more distressed.

With every word that fell from the auror's lips an awful, truly terrible picture was slowly, but certainly, starting to emerge here. One that he could not fail to see, no matter how badly he desired to become utterly blind to it.

He decided to try his luck with the least ridiculous of all the possibilities that were fleeting wildly through his head:

"Are you implying that I am still a... Hogwarts Professor?. I thought Draco is teaching Potions now, isn't he?"

Emerald eyes focused on him once more and a small, but genuine smile appeared on the Gryffindor's mouth for a fleeting second.

"The Ferret's there, alright!. Got his Oh-So-Awesome-Potions-Mastery and high-tailed it back to the school in the blink of an eye. Told everyone that he wanted to be close to you and he'll leave for greener pastures the moment you blinked awake.

He's been there all along. Poking at you with this potion and that one. Getting his bloody father into the grounds, in order to discuss this book or that one. They must have read entire libraries, in their stubborn determination to bring you back. It was impossible to visit your room without finding one or the other over there..."

A wide smile broke across his features then. His heart warmed with affection for his godchild and his best friend, they both had been one of his most inspired choices in life. He'd struck gold there, true gold, and there was nothing that delighted him more than hearing proof of it, even if it was voiced in so derisive a manner...

"They do know loyalty, don't they?. And determination. They are the best friends any man could have... Are they not, Mr. Potter?"

The young features twisted with some kind of deeply-set resentment.

"I hate it when you go all soft-eyed over those twitchy bastards, but I'll admit that they have gone above and beyond my every expectation on your behalf. That's why I can't understand what, in the bloody Hell, that man was thinking!.

This is not like him at all. I'd have bet my life on the certainty that he'd rather drink poison than deliberately expose you to unnecessary danger. Least of all, when he knows you to be weakened!"

Potter's sudden return to the initial issue brought back the awareness that he had not been given a satisfactory answer to this particular conundrum.

"If Draco is the Potion Master of Hogwarts... Then what is it that I am supposed to teach? Defense?"

The boy laughed so heartily upon hearing that suggestion that he felt truly insulted!. How dare that brat imply, with such unnecessary display of unbecoming mirth, that the very idea of him teaching that particular subject was nothing sort of hilarious?.

"I don't see what's so dammed funny, Mr. Potter!"

"Sorry. Sorry!. But it's just...I don't really know how to tell you this, you see?. Do you remember George Weasley?"

Abject horror seized him from head to toes. He froze with shock from the inside out, from the top of his dark head to the very tip of his oldest, most comfortable shoes.

" Weasley?. George Weasley?. What in the Holy name of Merlin's silky, green bloomers was Minerva thinking?. To hire that menace for a subject such as that one it's... it's... it's absolutely preposterous!. Wait... Wait. The boy didn't even seat his N.E.W.T's..."

Potter had become sombre. Golden face lit with old, but still heartfelt sorrow.

"Yes. He did.

Fred... Fred was killed in the last battle, Severus. Didn't you know?... And George became... I don't know: lost, without his brother. It was touch and go there for a while.

He left the shop. Stopped all that teasing that he'd always done... I didn't hear him crack a single joke in something close to a year and, when he finally did, it was a weak and uninspired thing.

He went back to school then. He's turned himself into a different man altogether. He's become quite the expert in the field of defense now. Got his mastery and all. He is happy enough with the teaching, he is popular and he gets results. I even think that you'll like his odd approach, if you ever give his class a chance"

He sat there, like a mannequin, and stared dumbly at the youth before him. George Weasley... a teacher. He couldn't even imagine such a thing!.

"I heard about his brother. When they came to visit, I told both: Molly and Arthur, how truly saddened I felt about their loss, but it never occurred to me to ask them about the other twin. It just... skipped my mind... I can't believe I forgot all about him!”

Potter's dark head shook with rueful agreement as that bright gaze settled on him with genuine, unmistakable affection:

"You are trying to come to terms with four years of history in a very short span of time, Severus. It's no wonder that some things escape your notice. I bet it's disconcerting enough to drive you up the wall. You were always so precise with everything that you must feel constantly as if you've been plunged straight into chaos. I forget, sometimes, that you've truly lost all these years..."

There was something so very gentle in the boy's tone that it managed somehow to snare his senses altogether. Black eyes clashed with deep green and they both connected with one another in that same kind of intimidating mutual understanding that had become more and more common between them as their friendship deepened...

He disliked the odd intimacy of the situation. The unpleasant sense of familiarity that his mind had started to associate with moments such as this one, as they became more and more common an occurrence between the two of them.

He could not cope with the extremely discomfiting realization that he was responding to the child at an almost instinctual level, no less... The very thought brought cold sweat to his pale temple and he closed his own eyes, in order to break the moment.

Silence filled the room then. Potter waiting him out patiently, always patiently. Like a hunter who's settled upon a particular prey...

The predator waited and watched. Listened to him with the whole of his body. Focused with deadly intent on his selected victim, in order to better asses the optimum moment for the most efficient attack...

Severus kept quiet and still, attempting to ride out that disquieting sense of terror that had so suddenly seized him. He knew, with every fiber of himself, that he was truly overreacting. That it was his own irrational fear, about the inexplicable strength of their growing attachment, the one to put those unpleasant comparisons in his head.

He had no intention of retreating. No intention of... listening to his own damaging misgivings with regards to this relationship that was forming between them. So he remained as he was for a long time: still like a statue with his eyes firmly closed against reality... blind to everything, by his own choice, and silent. Utterly and irrevocably voiceless, lest he allowed himself the mistake of lashing out at the boy...

Tension rose. And rose. AND ROSE... within the room. His heartbeat pounded, against the rigid prison of his own ribcage, with the same furious force that a threatened stallion would use to pound the soil under its hooves. His breathing turned swallower and stilted. His head began to ache with the first initial signs of a thunderous headache.

Potter sighed loudly and then a foreign hand settled over his own arm, which had been resting on the polished surface of the table all along. The touch startled him and his eyes shot warily open. Ebony depths flashed dangerously, straight into the green eyes of the boy.

"I dislike it when you touch me for no reason, Potter!" His growl was a frosty reproof that demanded, without having to ever say the words, the immediate removal of those fingers from his person.

The auror, of course, turned to be utterly impervious to unvoiced commands.

"And I dislike it when you close me out, Severus!. We were having a conversation. Don't you remember? You say something, then I answer and we carry on from there back and forth... That's how it works with almost everybody else. You, on the other hand... Why did you retreat just now?. I don't remember saying anything stupid!"

He tried to make sense of that last bizarre statement but, if it did indeed have any, it simply escaped him. His mouth opened to speak, but he found himself just too... agitated... to offer any kind of reasonable response.

The moment stretched and their eyes clashed once more. That wide, too-warm palm burned the whole area around his wool-covered wrist, over which it was settled.

"You never said what my purpose is at Hogwarts" He finally decided on berating the auror briskly, shaking his limb free of that disconcertingly intimate touch with a jerky and irritated motion.

Potter's smile could have broken shards of glass, it was so jagged. So broken. It was a thing that could dissolve under the strain of a mere whisper, with the next sigh from those lips.

"What's left, Severus?. I'm sure it's not that difficult. There are Potions and Defense, both of them already filled. What's the other role that you ever played within that school?. The only one that would make a man like Edwardson come right out of his huge mansion in order to sort out?. You know what it is, don't you?. You just don't want to accept it!"

-He is not actually saying any of this. Is he?. I'm... I'm just having some kind of breakdown at the breakfast table and hallucinating the whole thing...- His thoughts grabbed onto that simple and relieving explanation and refused to let go of it.

He stared straight at Potter and the auror just... stared right back at him.

There was so much anticipation glowing with excited verdant intensity within the gaze that held his own that he couldn't have held onto his weak conviction of being a victim of some kind of bizarre delusion for too long, anyway.

"You must be joking!" He spluttered finally, throat constricted with the horror of imagining it to be true: that he was, indeed, exactly were he'd left off. Condemned to inhabit Albus' office for all eternity. Sentenced to be reminded, every second of every day, of exactly why it had been necessary for him to assume control in the first place.

Potter looked at him oddly. Green gaze dimmed and inky brows furrowed as the very last words Severus wanted to hear rent the air:

"You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus."

His brain tried so hard to wrap itself around that particularly unwelcome and inexplicable development that for a whole minute he simply... gaped!.

"What about Minerva?" He finally decided to tackle the most obvious weakness of the whole ridiculous concept.

Utter Gryffindor idiocy returned with a bang, and the boy blinked gormlessly at him:

"What about her?"

He was flustered enough to feel like screaming at the brainless menace to stop being so... obtuse!.

"She was Albus' deputy!. It has been understood, for a long time now, that she'd eventually succeed him.

I was forced to accept the position on the Dark Lord's orders!. It was not a choice that I ever made, nor one that had the approval of the Board of Governors, either. No one was given any power of veto at the time. I have no possible right to claim a position that was never meant to be mine, in the first place. I can't believe Minnie would think I'd dare!”

Potter snorted and he found that single action disrespectful enough to grit his teeth:

"Mcgonagal herself told the Board how she'd accepted the position of Deputy Headmistress on the condition that, if it ever came to war, YOU: Severus Snape, would be revealed as Albus Dumbledore's choice for his successor.

She has a letter, you see?. Edwardson has one too. Both of them are signed by the late Headmaster's own hand and state the whole deal that they all agreed to in crystal-clear detail: She'll take over under normal circumstances and appoint you as her natural successor...

You'll step up, if Voldermort ever managed to take things far enough for the Ministry to declare open conflict. She'll remain your deputy then and eventually follow you, if you came to be lost during the war or decided to retire before her death"

He was so stunned that he could not even think of a response. He'd never heard of such letter, had never been made aware of either it's existence or the fact that there had even been conditions to Minnie's appointment as Albus' second in command.

She'd never intimated anything of the like. And the Headmaster... Albus had never even asked him if he'd care to agree to that crazy plan, in the first place!.

"I... I didn't know any of that"

Potter seemed to be expecting that very confession, for he shook his wild mop frantically up and down.

"Yes, we know. It was Albus' idea that Voldermort should think himself really clever by installing one of his “most trusted” at the helm.

Part of the reason why the old man was so adamant that you rise in the ranks, during that last year of his life, was his determination to set the stage for your appointment as Headmaster. It all worked like clockwork, only... you were badly injured in the battle. For almost three whole weeks we actually thought that you were dead. Albus kept insisting that you couldn't be, though. That your portrait had not appeared on the wall..."

His whole body shuddered at the very idea. He disliked the whole concept of surrendering “His Adventure” to the utterly trying demands of the school. A former headmaster tied to a wall, forever embroiled in the day to day running of an institution to which he had already dedicated his whole life...

"The war is over now, though. I'm sure Minnie has been doing an excellent job of it. I see no reason why she wouldn't be delighted to take over, it won't take much more than a letter of resignation to Max."

Verdant eyes searched his face with a truly sombre expression:

"I'm telling you, Severus, we thought that you were dead!. We tried to instate Minerva as the new Headmistress, but the school wouldn't accept it. The whole office refused to open to her command.

Then Draco contacted Madam Pomfrey about you and the whole story of your survival became known. We tried to heal you, but... the venom was so resistant that it took us a long time and, when we finally had that disaster fixed, it turned out that you had no wish to wake up.

That was another bloody battle that seemed to be never-ending!. The school needed a proper head and we thought that you'd never make it... so we tried demoting you forcefully. The whole Board signed the documents. It still didn't work!.

Hogwarts itself has it in its head that you are in charge and so you are!. The only thing that was actually necessary was for you to be physically within the grounds and that was never a problem because you stayed in your own private rooms, just off the infirmary"

He was thunderstruck with the most confusing mix of utter vexation and awed humbleness at the extent to which the school's own magic had gone to defended his unorthodox appointment.

"That's... That's incredible!"

The boy smiled at him. A soft and bright light had entered those eyes that watched him gently.

"Yes, it is. It is also one of the reasons why your magic is actually missing, you see?. When the vow was trying to assert itself against your own will, it attempted to... wrestle... with you. Persuade you to accept it properly, I think.

But we were at Hogwarts, back to the room you'd been using while you were still trapped in your coma, and the castle... I think the castle believed that it's Headmaster was in danger. It attempted to come to your rescue, Severus. I have never seen the like... Not ever!. There was so much magic coursing through your body that you started to seize. You were just... too weak to cope with all that power, so... I...

I don't really know how I did it, or even what the Hell it was that I actually did, but... It stopped. All of it. It. Just... Stopped!...”

He was now frightened indeed. Utterly and most certainly terrified. This golden-featured and verdant-eyed young boy was actually confessing to his face, so very casually, that he'd gone toe to toe with the combined power of both Hogwarts itself and a badly pissed off Wizard's Oath, and managed to subjugate them both to his own will, without actually having a bloody clue as to how he'd done it...

The blasted idiot could have killed him. KILLED HIM!. And he simply sat there, on the other side of this ridiculously long table, and did absolutely nothing but... blink stupidly!.

Cold was seeping down his spine, invading his every bone with the most absolute panic. He started to shiver uncontrollably and his eyes: ebony black and almost always devoid of any emotion, shone with the most abject fear that a human gaze can possibly display.

Potter shot off his chair like a bullet. Bright green gaze wide and frantic as he called his name loudly:

"Severus!... What...?. You've got to calm yourself down!. Calm yourself!"

He felt like laughing. So hard, so loudly and so... bitterly that for a very long time he actually did not realize that he was doing it.

The boy's hands settled on his person: invasive, unwelcome, terrifyingly disrespectful digits that perched without his permission over his shoulders.

"Severus!"

He was shaken firmly. Violently. Rattled almost, like a toddler's toy...

He started to hiccup hysterically. A thin river of crystalline, warm tears began to run down his pale cheeks as he laughed and laughed... And. Laughed. AND LAUGHED!...

He could not possibly stop. He had no intention at all of stopping. He'd laugh himself into his grave and save this child the trouble...

The boy seemed to have turned into granite. He was suddenly cold-eyed and perfectly calm, as those first truly frantic seconds of initial panic gave way to whatever it was that turned James Potter's son into a truly impressive leader.

"Severus, listen to me!. You are having a panic attack. You've got to bring yourself under control or you'll upset the healing tissues of your throat, do you understand me?. I'm not letting you get into another respiratory arrest, no matter what!"

For some reason he found that notion funny. Arrest... yes!. Potter should definitely arrest him!. Wasn't he the bloody auror extraordinaire?.

Utter mirth exploded within him and his hiccuping became erratic. Harsher.

He could feel himself unraveling slowly. Repressed frustration, desolate confusion, shocked trepidation... all of it spilled forth, from somewhere deep inside him, and attempted to take hold of his weakened body.

Potter's expression was one of absolutely livid determination. He looked shattered and pale. A distressed, green-eyed rendition of perfect consternation. Those wide hands kept holding him so firmly that his shoulders burned with the contact. Yielded, with shameful submission, to the strength of the boy who clutched him...

"Severus... I'm warning you!. You won't like what I'll do if you force me to bring you back to your senses!. This is your very last chance: take a deep breath and try to CALM YOURSELF DOWN!"

The command was like kindle to a fire that was already well past blazing. Severus felt himself almost dissolving into uncontrollable hilarity. He choked on his own guffaws and his chest started to ache with the effort of sustaining his amusement. Air itself became a problem. A problem that couldn't manage to stop his increasingly harsher chortles and he wondered, in ashamed horror, just how or when was he going to finally halt this terrible show of weakness...

"That's it!" Potter finally growled, so viciously, that he shivered with cold. With shock. With fear...

Those hands moved away from his shaking shoulders. They rose towards his rigid neck and cradled the pale, tear-stained skin of his cheekbones. Callused warm palms heated his clammy skin, while he laughed. And laughed. And laughed!...

Potter's eyes, so green and bright, looked heartbroken.

"This is not how I dreamed it happening, Severus... This is not how I wanted it at all..."

He had no time to ponder on those words before the most astonishingly strange thing happened: the boy pulled his face upwards. Held it carefully between those tanned wide palms and brushed their lips together.

It was so shocking an act that he stilled. Held immobile by sheer shock, deep bewilderment and the actual awareness that there were lips... human, living, willing lips touching his own!.

He gasped, startled, and as his lips parted Potter's tongue pushed inside him, like a warm, wet, poignantly solicitous invader...

His first kiss. And it was just... as soft, as gentle, as utterly tender and loving as he could have possibly imagined...

It had also been given to him by a desperate man, who happened to have hated him for most of his life, as a last resort to bring him out of a shameful bout of hysteria. Something along the lines of a slap to the face or a firm, forceful shake...

Potter retreated after a few brief second. Lips slightly red and wet with a sheen of Severus' own tears that they'd collected during their short contact.

The boy swallowed and those green eyes looked straight into his own face with an expression that was, for once, unreadable.

Severus felt truly devastated as he saw the muscles of that young throat contract. Maybe in preparation to utter some sort of apology or, more probably, to swallow the bitter bile that must have risen to the back of the auror's throat at the very idea of having been forced to kiss his ghastly ex-Potions teacher.

All in all... he couldn't help the thought that he would have preferred the slap to the face. It would have hurt far less for sure. It would have kept his own lips still virgin, still untouched, still unaware of just how truly... beautiful... the gift of a kiss could be...

TBC...

Ch20

Ch22