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hp_goldenageTitle: Always be there face I live with
Author:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
Im_just_visiting
Characters/Pairings: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 4844
Content/Warning(s):
Summary/Prompt: 2 - Prompt: "Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative." - Maurice Chevalier. Give us a piece of their Happily Ever After™.
Read on AO3 or below:
Harry filled the kettle with water and set it on the cooker, then gathered all the ingredients needed to make the tea, his hands moving expertly, and almost without trembling. Almost.
It was a routine he had grown accustomed to over the years. Severus was at first surprised that Harry did almost everything in the house by himself, without the help of the House Elves, but he was used to it, accepted his choice. Harry simply felt that there was no reason not to do it, and on top of that, he felt that making a snack for a loved one or tea by himself was more personal.
Severus wasn't the cooking type, he thought chopping, stirring and cooking in the lab was enough for him. He wasn't much of an eater either, eating because he had to, not because he wanted to. Harry didn't force him, respecting his decisions.
While the water heated, Harry placed two cups and saucers, a pot of honey and a small plate of biscuits on the tray, then set about preparing dinner, despite the fact that he himself had only just returned from his job in the Auror office. He knew Severus hadn't eaten since returning from his job at Hogwarts. This guy was like a child at times, if you didn't watch him he wouldn't take care of himself. Harry shook his head and rummaged through the fridge and cupboards, trying to decide what to make, finally deciding on a simple pasta dish with homemade tomato sauce. He knew it was nothing fancy, but it was something they both loved.
It was quiet in the house, most of the lights were out. Severus was asleep on the sofa with a book in his hand, as he had done every evening for the past few weeks, and as Harry found him when he entered the house. Lately it seemed that was all Severus did when he returned from work.
With brow furrowed in concern, Harry began chopping the basil he was going to add to the top of the dish.
The first time Harry came home from work and Severus, instead of sitting in an armchair with a book in his hand as usual, was there leaning against the headrest and sleeping Harry found it charming. He gazed with delight at the thin, blinking eyelids, the slightly parted, relaxed lips. Severus looked so casual and relaxed, his chest rising and falling in deep slumber, the fire from the fireplace warming the room and giving his skin a warm tinge. Harry could have gazed at the sight for hours, but he indulged himself only for a few minutes and then quietly walked through the house to prepare the meal.
When Severus woke an hour later, dinner was ready and he was in a good mood and happy to be in Harry's presence.
Over the next week Harry found him asleep twice more and in the following weeks he found him asleep every day. He didn't realise when the sight, instead of warming his heart, started to give him panic attacks. Nothing had changed, nothing had happened, Severus had always been relaxed and in a good mood when he woke up, but still, in Harry's mind or maybe in his heart, something had changed, he had begun to interpret the situation differently. Severus is weak, Severus is getting old, Severus is going to die. These thoughts at first appeared shyly, crawling out from the furthest reaches of his subconscious fears until finally they completely filled his thoughts, nestled in for good, and made him fearful, choking him, paralysing him with terror.
Instead of sitting and enjoying his beloved's peaceful slumber, Harry caught himself counting his breaths. Each prolonged pause between inhalation and exhalation made him despair, and he waited anxiously for the next one, ready at any moment to pounce on Severus and try to resuscitate him if necessary.
Harry was no fool, he knew his feelings were unnatural. Probably the trauma of the loss of his parents and Sirius was recurring, and he poured all his hopes, love and fears into Severus. But this awareness, the knowledge of the root of his feelings, did not change anything. Of course, he tried not to show anything to Severus, moving and speaking as lightly and freely as usual, talking about ordinary things, or at least he tried very, very hard to do so.
At every spare moment, every moment when his mind wasn't occupied with work, Harry would plead with Severus in his own thoughts, sending him "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, don't ever leave me" like a prayer to the gods. In a way it was, Harry felt as if his whole life was in Severus' hands.
The sound of the kettle signalling that the water was boiling snapped Harry out of his gloomy thoughts.
Unable to stand mentally at this point without Severus present, Harry tiptoed quietly to the open door to the sitting room and peeked in, making sure he was really there, and still alive. Once he had calmed down he was able to return to opening the can of tomato sauce.
Harry himself didn't know at what point this changed, but it just did. For decades he had taken Severus' presence for granted. It was completely normal for him to be somewhere, to be doing something, to be alive. They would go to bed together, making plans for the next day, during the day they would discuss plans for the future - a week, a month, a year, even for several years ahead. Where they would go, where they wanted to spend their holidays. Normal, obvious things. Severus appeared in Harry's thoughts all the time, just the thought of his name made him feel better. Time didn't exist, it didn't matter, death was buried deep in the abyss of memory. Harry felt like he was in a dream of love, never to end. That's why the sudden realisation of Severus' mortality affected him as shockingly as a fist to the chest, took his breath away, made his head spin and he had to prop himself up against the wall.
Oh, it wasn't that he didn't think he was human, it was just that Severus always seemed so different, so superior, indestructible, energetic despite his thinness, strong and lively, always knowing what to do and what to say, always coping brilliantly, with him you didn't remember anything so out of place as death. Harry placed infinite trust and confidence in his presence.
And now, since he realised that Severus was destructible, mortal and growing older, that not all his plans would come to fruition, that one day he would not wake up and Harry would forever be in a life without Severus, so cold and empty, stuck in his own tailor-made hell for the rest of his days, it took away his ability to think logically, gave him panic attacks.
It was with some surprise that Harry realised that it was possible to die for reasons other than war, killed by Voldemort, Death Eaters, by a Dementor's kiss or by a snakebite, after which Severus still had a scar on his neck. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Fred, all died this way. Harry had become so accustomed to the presence of these dramatic deaths that the ordinary ones seemed unreal, very distant, something you read about in books. Apart from the Dursley family, he knew no one who died a natural death, from illness or old age. Of course, death did happen, but among the Muggles, not to the Wizards, not to Severus! With them, if you survived the war, you lived, it was so obvious. He lived in this safe illusion for so many years that he almost believed it.
But death was so close, it surrounded him on all sides, it was inside him and beside him, right next to him, as close as Severus' warm body. That body was being consumed by a slow death, it was his own body killing him slowly. It would not be the snake attack that would kill him, it would be his heart that would do it, or some disease, perhaps cancer? A stroke? There were so many possibilities and each one drove Harry to the brink of madness with terror. He wasn't afraid for himself, it didn't matter, but Severus, oh God, how afraid he was for Severus.
He wanted to lock him in a box, protect him from the world, never part with him even for a second. All confidence had turned into a fierce trepidation, Harry was never sure he would ever see him again. It was absurd, bordering on insanity. Even now, as he drain the pasta his hands were shaking and he had to remind himself that everything was fine, Severus was alive, asleep, so close, Harry could come up and touch him at any time. It wasn't healthy behaviour, it wasn't right with him, it was very wrong, Harry understood that himself.
He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to find a something, anything to draw his attention back to, but no sound came from outside the window, nothing to distract him from his heavy thoughts. It seemed as if the whole world held its breath or died. With a shuddering sigh, he put the pasta onto the plates.
When everything was ready, Harry set the table and put the food in the oven to keep warm, then quietly walked to his boyfriend. The living room was quiet, the only sound the soft, gentle snoring of Severus sleeping, who lay sprawled out on the sofa. Harry never told him that he sometimes snored, Severus would have been embarrassed and it could have caused them problems. Harry didn't mind, he liked listening to it. It meant everything was fine.
He loved it when they lay in bed, and Severus would sometimes make these little sounds in his sleep, let out a sigh, and Harry was absolutely melting then, it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He loved hearing him sleeping so peacefully, feeling safe with him. It didn't come right away, Severus had trouble relaxing, giving up control. No, not in bed but in life. He was always alert, cautious, tense. It wasn't until a few years into their relationship that Harry noticed Severus had learned to feel more at ease in his company, as if he were alone. It was then that they fully discovered the magic of sleepy intimacy, the shared, sleepy comfort, pillow eyes masks, spooning, waking up next to someone....Their time together in bed was special, it was much more than sexual activity and after so many years of relationship this has not faded. But something has changed. Severus had been having trouble sleeping at night for some time. He struggled to fall asleep, woke up, fidgeted, got up several times a night to pee. He was not getting much quality sleep. Probably this is why lately in the evenings his organism needed to regenerate during this one - two hour nap. Stop it, stop it, there was no reason to be anxious, Harry tried to console himself.
The lights were dim, there were only a few lit candles hovering over the sleeping man but enough light from the streetlamps came through the window illuminating the room with a soft orange glow to reveal that his reading glasses had slipped off his nose and under his hand, on his chest, was a thick open textbook. The street light danced across the floor, casting long eerie shadows on the walls, making the room both cosy and mysterious. The scene was still and quiet, a moment frozen in time where the only thing that mattered was the stillness of the present moment. His beloved lay there sleeping, lost in his dream, and the world outside was just a distant hum.
His beloved... Harry set the tray down on the coffee table, walked over to the window and looked out, watching the street lamps flicker and dance in the darkness. The light they cast was a gentle reminder of the outside world, but at the moment he felt as if they were the only two people in the world. He wouldn't mind, he could put up with anything as long as he had Severus.
He sighed and sat down on the sofa next to Severus, taking a moment to appreciate the man he loved, carefully took the book from his hand, and set it down next to tray. The Potion Master's face was bathed in light, giving him a calm and contented look, thin eyelids flicked gently, long lashes cast a shadow over sunken cheeks, his dark hair fell across his forehead. Although Severus was much older than him, he still looked so young and vulnerable as he slept, was so fragile, physically so easy to destroy.
Severus was still a teacher at Hogwarts, arguing that he didn't want to think about changing careers. Now, since the threat of war had gone, he could relax a little and stop being constantly tense and on guard. He has mellowed a bit over time, but he was still a very demanding teacher. And he was still working too much, far too much, despite Harry's requests and persuasions.
It seemed like only yesterday that Harry had finished his education, and he still had before his eyes the slender, sleek silhouette of the Potion Master moving swiftly up the stairs with nervous movements.
Probably if he hadn't known him before, hadn't had a comparison, if he met him now he would have found him a lively, energetic person, he comforted himself in spirit.
Now it is seen by generations of schoolchildren, unaware of the significance of the place and the importance of the participation in the war of the person who taught them. To them it was a boring, distant story, something that happened over 40 years ago and so might as well have been hundreds of years ago, what a difference.
Was he like that too? Harry couldn't remember it, it was decades ago, but he probably did, nothing would be spared him. What a shame in front of Severus, the only consolation was that he probably hadn't thought about the subject.
It had recently been Severus' 80th birthday. Severus was now older than Minerva had been when Harry started at Hogwarts. He remembered with horror and shame that he had considered her old then. And now he knew better. It was incomprehensible to him that the students now considered Severus old. His Severus! And yet he was the same as he had been 50 years ago, only his body had changed a little. He felt and thought the same, he was still just as sarcastic, witty, ironic, funny, intelligent as when he was 30. This realisation was falling heavily on Harry. He himself was still very fit, strong and athletic, and did not notice the passing of time. His 60 years meant nothing to the Wizard, he felt just as young as he had 40 years ago. But Severus... he was different, so frail, so neglected over the years, with poor diet and lack of exercise, always putting everything before his health.
He gently reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Severus' forehead, feeling a surge of love for him. He wished he could turn back time and make Severus stay young and vibrant forever, and the very thought made him feel a pain in his heart from grief, sharp as a stabbing. Nonsense, complete nonsense, admonished Harry himself, why think about it if nothing can be done?
They had been together for 30 years, it was amazing! Harry enjoyed every year together and regretted not breaking the ice between them sooner. Well, the important thing is that he finally did. Years passed, but their love was still as strong as at the beginning, if not stronger. Severus brought so much to Harry's life, filled it with meaning and love, even Grimmauld House has made itself a home since Severus moved in there, filling it with his presence, replacing the void, giving it life. Severus' face became a symbol of love, security, happiness and Harry could not imagine life without this face in his life.
In Harry's eyes, Severus still looked very attractive, the passage of time definitely did not harm him, but rather worked in his favour. As a Wizard, he had aged much more slowly than Muggles, and now looked as if he were in his 40s. His hair was as black as ever, and the fine lines he had gained around his mouth and one on his forehead only added to his sexiness. His body was just as petite, lean and covered in small, tight muscles as the day he had first seen him naked. Everything was so very perfect, if only it hadn't been for the unexpected, so unsuitable for Severus evening fatigue....
Struggling to hold back a cry of despair, he leaned over, placed a kiss on Severus' forehead, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying not to wake him. He just wanted to be close to him and soak up every moment they had together. He watched Severus's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. Someday this would end, Severus would draw his last breath and his chest would come to a standstill, but not now. There are still many years ahead of them. Dumbledore lived to be over 120 and might have lived longer had it not been for this unfortunate circumstance. Harry saw no reason why Severus should not live to that age. It was possible that they still had a second as much time together as they had lived together so far.
As Severus began to move, Harry leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I love you", he whispered, hoping that Severus would somehow hear it in his sleep.
Severus stirred and, softly smilling, slowly opened his eyes, looking at Harry with a warm gaze, and Harry's heart began to beat harder. Severus opening his eyes was his favourite sight.
"I love you too," he said, reaching up to brush a stray hair from Harry's face.
Harry leaned in to give him a kiss.
"You're home," Severus said with a yawn. "Hey, love," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I had to take a nap. How was your day?"
Harry's heart swelled with love as he looked into Severus' eyes and as he heard his beloved voice again. After so many years, he still didn't have enough of it, it still made him shiver. He was like an addict, he needed that.
Severus raised himself on his elbow, rose to a half-sitting position, with a mark imprinted on his cheek from lying face down on his forearm, then sat up straight, yawned again while covering his mouth, and leaned against Harry, who immediately put his arm around him.
"What are you still doing downstairs? You look exhausted. You work too hard...You need to slow down, Sev." He tried to make his voice sound light, not betraying stress, but surely the Potion Master was not fooled.
"I just had a long day at work. I'm sorry I couldn't greet you when you got home."
Harry tried to smile. "That's okay. Let's have dinner!"
A slender hand rubbed his sleepy eyes and brushed unruly strands of hair away from his face, then Severus reached for a cup of tea and a biscuit. "In a moment. Let's have some tea first, shall we?" For a while they sat in silence, relishing the feeling of closeness.
But even that will pass, it will remain just a memory that Harry will recall and that will make him howl in despair, just like millions of other little bits and pieces from their life together. Harry felt his throat begin to tighten and his eyes begin to sting with tears. He took a few deep breaths discreetly, under the pretext of sniffing tea, and managed to calm himself. Disaster averted.
As the last biscuit disappeared from the plate, Severus sighed. "What's going on in that head of yours?" His hand closed over Harry's, warm, firm, full of strength and life, and bottomless black eyes met green ones.
"Oh? What do you have in mind?" Harry stopped breathing for a second. Was he that transparent, that obvious with his behaviour?
"You think I haven't noticed that? You've been treating me like I'm made of glass since my birthday. What's going on?" It wasn't a reproach, rather a confusion.
Harry felt himself blush, caught in something he had no reason to even hide or be ashamed of. "I love you so much and sometimes I get paranoid. I'm sorry." He began to ramble on with words.
Severus shook his hand. "Don't apologise, I understand and appreciate your concern. Don't worry, I won't leave you in any way." Straight to the point, as always. Harry smiled faintly, grateful for these words of comfort. "Harry, everything is fine, I'm fine. I know what you're thinking, I know what you're worried about." Severus' hand squeezed a little tighter. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Harry closed his eyes and nodded his head, feeling tears come to his eyes. It was stupid, there was no reason to cry but he was so terribly afraid of losing him. Stop, Harry, stop, he urged himself in his thoughts, for God's sake, he was 60 years old and acting like a 15-year-old!
A warm hand gently, tenderly stroked his cheek and wiped away the tear that had managed to escape.
"Harry, please, trust me, there is no need to worry." His lips gently traveled over Harry's face, who felt so stupid and pathetic, making this scene and crying for basically nothing. Severus had been so good to him, he didn't deserve his patience and forbearance. He sniffled, felt Severus pull away slightly and then hand him a handkerchief, which Harry eagerly used. Harry couldn't remember the last time he cried, but it was a long, long time ago. Probably when Sirius died. He wasn't going to cry, and certainly not like this - with a red, contorted face, wet with incessant streams of tears and water from his nose, sobbing, unable to catch his breath, terrifying Severus with his despair. No, definitely not like that. He wasn't ashamed to show himself in front of him like that, that wasn't the point. Simply facing your fears, saying the unspeakable out loud made it more real.
Severus sat by him patiently, waiting, giving him a moment to recover.
When Harry finally opened his eyes, he met Severus' gaze, whose eyes scanned Harry's face intently. "I see the trepidation in your eyes and I understand its source. Yes, I've had to take a little nap lately, but it's natural. I am still far from old. I am in good health and I still have a lot of life left in me. Is that what you meant? Is that what you're worried about?" He spoke softly, in a warm, soft voice. "Dearest, listen. It's not that I don't take care of myself, you know? I personally prepare all these potions for us, which we drink regularly. They strengthen the heart, the immune system, the memory, improve the kidneys and the liver. I leave nothing to chance. To make sure everything is in order I'll make an appointment for a medical check-up and you'll go in there with me so you can hear the doctor's assessment of my health. Okay? Do you understand what I am saying?"
Harry nodded, still disbelieving his voice.
"That's good." Severus smiled softly. "It's a difficult subject, I know. We all have to face the possibility of death, Harry. But this is a very distant future, and I'm not going to let it consume me. I intend to live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment with you."
A life without Severus... Without a voice informing him, with his typical irony, about the course of the lesson, or whispering with tenderness how much he loved him, without the look of his eyes, without the touch of his hands, without that beloved face which he saw every day, with which he lived, without the sight of which Harry could not imagine living...Harry felt the tears rush to his eyes again and this time he didn't even try to hold them back. "I just don't want to lose you. You mean everything to me." With difficulty he managed to speak through loud sobbing. Now he sounded like a child. He felt sorry for Severus having such a stupid partner. He was certainly disappointed with him now, of this Harry was sure.
But Severus didn't seem disappointed, he leaned over and kissed Harry on the forehead. "And you mean everything to me. But we can't control the future, we can only control the present." His voice was soft, soothing, lulling him almost to sleep. Severus' breathing, his heartbeat resonated in Harry's ears, grounding him. "My present is you and I'm very happy about it, I couldn't have dreamed of anything better. So let's make the most of it and not worry about what might happen."
Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just.... I was so worried about you." His voice breaking.
Skinny, strong arms pulled him into a hug and and tender lips whispered on his tear-soaked cheek. "I know and I love you for it. Darling, I won't leave, I swear. You know I always keep my word, right? I promise you I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you for as long as I can. And, love, we have at least twice as much time ahead of us, it's not a short time. I love you so much and hurting you is the last thing I want to do."
Harry's face was nestled into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, his hair affectionately stroked, Severus's voice sounding quiet but emotional. "And don't apologise, please don't apologise. You're having a panic attack because you love me, because you don't want to lose me, that's hardly a reason to apologise."
Warmth surrounded Harry, snuggling him in, he felt as if he had returned to his mother's womb, where there was only darkness and a sense of safety. "When I am still this, as long as I exist in this body and breathe air, and as my heart beats, you are my life." A soft voice replaced his whole world, enclosed him in a bubble of love. He breathed it, filled his lungs with it, felt it spread through even the smallest vein and cell of his body, replacing the terrifying cold of fear that made Harry tremble every now and then.
Harry, not even aware of how stressed he had been lately felt a weight fall from his shoulders. The relief was so great that for a moment he allowed himself to sob in Severus' arms, expelling his despair and fear that was poisoning his soul and he let him, cuddling him close, repeating tender words and reassuring him until finally the worst was over.
Trying to pull himself together he let out a sigh and hugged Severus tighter. "Thank you. I'm sorry I was so clingy."
Severus kissed the top of his head. "It's all right, my love, I understand. You are always clingy." He laughed softly. "That's the way I love you. But you must trust me when I say it's all right. That is all I ask of you. I may be slowly starting to age, but I still have a lot of love and life in me." Severus smiled and kissed Harry on the lips.
For a moment they remained foreheads touching, breathing the same air, until Harry felt the tension leave him.
"Better now?" Severus' warm breath tickled his lips, causing him to smile.
"Yes." He really felt that way this time. Severus was right, he was at full strength, he was healthy, he was alive, the only problem was that he was slowly getting older. If Harry was going to cry about it, he would have spent the next few decades crying. It was pointless; he would have wasted their time together in premature grief.
Severus was alive, was alive, was ALIVE, and was at his side now, warm and breathing. Harry lowered his head and pressed his face against his neck, inhaling his scent, and Severus's arms wrapped around his back.
Severus understood, of course he did. For a moment he hugged him as tightly as if he wanted them to become one, then gently held Harry's face.
"Yes? Good, that makes me very happy. Now let's have dinner that is waiting for us in the kitchen, I can clearly smell the tomato sauce, then tell me about your day and let's enjoy our day together. We have a lot of living to do."
Author:
Characters/Pairings: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 4844
Content/Warning(s):
Summary/Prompt: 2 - Prompt: "Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative." - Maurice Chevalier. Give us a piece of their Happily Ever After™.
Read on AO3 or below:
Harry filled the kettle with water and set it on the cooker, then gathered all the ingredients needed to make the tea, his hands moving expertly, and almost without trembling. Almost.
It was a routine he had grown accustomed to over the years. Severus was at first surprised that Harry did almost everything in the house by himself, without the help of the House Elves, but he was used to it, accepted his choice. Harry simply felt that there was no reason not to do it, and on top of that, he felt that making a snack for a loved one or tea by himself was more personal.
Severus wasn't the cooking type, he thought chopping, stirring and cooking in the lab was enough for him. He wasn't much of an eater either, eating because he had to, not because he wanted to. Harry didn't force him, respecting his decisions.
While the water heated, Harry placed two cups and saucers, a pot of honey and a small plate of biscuits on the tray, then set about preparing dinner, despite the fact that he himself had only just returned from his job in the Auror office. He knew Severus hadn't eaten since returning from his job at Hogwarts. This guy was like a child at times, if you didn't watch him he wouldn't take care of himself. Harry shook his head and rummaged through the fridge and cupboards, trying to decide what to make, finally deciding on a simple pasta dish with homemade tomato sauce. He knew it was nothing fancy, but it was something they both loved.
It was quiet in the house, most of the lights were out. Severus was asleep on the sofa with a book in his hand, as he had done every evening for the past few weeks, and as Harry found him when he entered the house. Lately it seemed that was all Severus did when he returned from work.
With brow furrowed in concern, Harry began chopping the basil he was going to add to the top of the dish.
The first time Harry came home from work and Severus, instead of sitting in an armchair with a book in his hand as usual, was there leaning against the headrest and sleeping Harry found it charming. He gazed with delight at the thin, blinking eyelids, the slightly parted, relaxed lips. Severus looked so casual and relaxed, his chest rising and falling in deep slumber, the fire from the fireplace warming the room and giving his skin a warm tinge. Harry could have gazed at the sight for hours, but he indulged himself only for a few minutes and then quietly walked through the house to prepare the meal.
When Severus woke an hour later, dinner was ready and he was in a good mood and happy to be in Harry's presence.
Over the next week Harry found him asleep twice more and in the following weeks he found him asleep every day. He didn't realise when the sight, instead of warming his heart, started to give him panic attacks. Nothing had changed, nothing had happened, Severus had always been relaxed and in a good mood when he woke up, but still, in Harry's mind or maybe in his heart, something had changed, he had begun to interpret the situation differently. Severus is weak, Severus is getting old, Severus is going to die. These thoughts at first appeared shyly, crawling out from the furthest reaches of his subconscious fears until finally they completely filled his thoughts, nestled in for good, and made him fearful, choking him, paralysing him with terror.
Instead of sitting and enjoying his beloved's peaceful slumber, Harry caught himself counting his breaths. Each prolonged pause between inhalation and exhalation made him despair, and he waited anxiously for the next one, ready at any moment to pounce on Severus and try to resuscitate him if necessary.
Harry was no fool, he knew his feelings were unnatural. Probably the trauma of the loss of his parents and Sirius was recurring, and he poured all his hopes, love and fears into Severus. But this awareness, the knowledge of the root of his feelings, did not change anything. Of course, he tried not to show anything to Severus, moving and speaking as lightly and freely as usual, talking about ordinary things, or at least he tried very, very hard to do so.
At every spare moment, every moment when his mind wasn't occupied with work, Harry would plead with Severus in his own thoughts, sending him "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, don't ever leave me" like a prayer to the gods. In a way it was, Harry felt as if his whole life was in Severus' hands.
The sound of the kettle signalling that the water was boiling snapped Harry out of his gloomy thoughts.
Unable to stand mentally at this point without Severus present, Harry tiptoed quietly to the open door to the sitting room and peeked in, making sure he was really there, and still alive. Once he had calmed down he was able to return to opening the can of tomato sauce.
Harry himself didn't know at what point this changed, but it just did. For decades he had taken Severus' presence for granted. It was completely normal for him to be somewhere, to be doing something, to be alive. They would go to bed together, making plans for the next day, during the day they would discuss plans for the future - a week, a month, a year, even for several years ahead. Where they would go, where they wanted to spend their holidays. Normal, obvious things. Severus appeared in Harry's thoughts all the time, just the thought of his name made him feel better. Time didn't exist, it didn't matter, death was buried deep in the abyss of memory. Harry felt like he was in a dream of love, never to end. That's why the sudden realisation of Severus' mortality affected him as shockingly as a fist to the chest, took his breath away, made his head spin and he had to prop himself up against the wall.
Oh, it wasn't that he didn't think he was human, it was just that Severus always seemed so different, so superior, indestructible, energetic despite his thinness, strong and lively, always knowing what to do and what to say, always coping brilliantly, with him you didn't remember anything so out of place as death. Harry placed infinite trust and confidence in his presence.
And now, since he realised that Severus was destructible, mortal and growing older, that not all his plans would come to fruition, that one day he would not wake up and Harry would forever be in a life without Severus, so cold and empty, stuck in his own tailor-made hell for the rest of his days, it took away his ability to think logically, gave him panic attacks.
It was with some surprise that Harry realised that it was possible to die for reasons other than war, killed by Voldemort, Death Eaters, by a Dementor's kiss or by a snakebite, after which Severus still had a scar on his neck. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Fred, all died this way. Harry had become so accustomed to the presence of these dramatic deaths that the ordinary ones seemed unreal, very distant, something you read about in books. Apart from the Dursley family, he knew no one who died a natural death, from illness or old age. Of course, death did happen, but among the Muggles, not to the Wizards, not to Severus! With them, if you survived the war, you lived, it was so obvious. He lived in this safe illusion for so many years that he almost believed it.
But death was so close, it surrounded him on all sides, it was inside him and beside him, right next to him, as close as Severus' warm body. That body was being consumed by a slow death, it was his own body killing him slowly. It would not be the snake attack that would kill him, it would be his heart that would do it, or some disease, perhaps cancer? A stroke? There were so many possibilities and each one drove Harry to the brink of madness with terror. He wasn't afraid for himself, it didn't matter, but Severus, oh God, how afraid he was for Severus.
He wanted to lock him in a box, protect him from the world, never part with him even for a second. All confidence had turned into a fierce trepidation, Harry was never sure he would ever see him again. It was absurd, bordering on insanity. Even now, as he drain the pasta his hands were shaking and he had to remind himself that everything was fine, Severus was alive, asleep, so close, Harry could come up and touch him at any time. It wasn't healthy behaviour, it wasn't right with him, it was very wrong, Harry understood that himself.
He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to find a something, anything to draw his attention back to, but no sound came from outside the window, nothing to distract him from his heavy thoughts. It seemed as if the whole world held its breath or died. With a shuddering sigh, he put the pasta onto the plates.
When everything was ready, Harry set the table and put the food in the oven to keep warm, then quietly walked to his boyfriend. The living room was quiet, the only sound the soft, gentle snoring of Severus sleeping, who lay sprawled out on the sofa. Harry never told him that he sometimes snored, Severus would have been embarrassed and it could have caused them problems. Harry didn't mind, he liked listening to it. It meant everything was fine.
He loved it when they lay in bed, and Severus would sometimes make these little sounds in his sleep, let out a sigh, and Harry was absolutely melting then, it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. He loved hearing him sleeping so peacefully, feeling safe with him. It didn't come right away, Severus had trouble relaxing, giving up control. No, not in bed but in life. He was always alert, cautious, tense. It wasn't until a few years into their relationship that Harry noticed Severus had learned to feel more at ease in his company, as if he were alone. It was then that they fully discovered the magic of sleepy intimacy, the shared, sleepy comfort, pillow eyes masks, spooning, waking up next to someone....Their time together in bed was special, it was much more than sexual activity and after so many years of relationship this has not faded. But something has changed. Severus had been having trouble sleeping at night for some time. He struggled to fall asleep, woke up, fidgeted, got up several times a night to pee. He was not getting much quality sleep. Probably this is why lately in the evenings his organism needed to regenerate during this one - two hour nap. Stop it, stop it, there was no reason to be anxious, Harry tried to console himself.
The lights were dim, there were only a few lit candles hovering over the sleeping man but enough light from the streetlamps came through the window illuminating the room with a soft orange glow to reveal that his reading glasses had slipped off his nose and under his hand, on his chest, was a thick open textbook. The street light danced across the floor, casting long eerie shadows on the walls, making the room both cosy and mysterious. The scene was still and quiet, a moment frozen in time where the only thing that mattered was the stillness of the present moment. His beloved lay there sleeping, lost in his dream, and the world outside was just a distant hum.
His beloved... Harry set the tray down on the coffee table, walked over to the window and looked out, watching the street lamps flicker and dance in the darkness. The light they cast was a gentle reminder of the outside world, but at the moment he felt as if they were the only two people in the world. He wouldn't mind, he could put up with anything as long as he had Severus.
He sighed and sat down on the sofa next to Severus, taking a moment to appreciate the man he loved, carefully took the book from his hand, and set it down next to tray. The Potion Master's face was bathed in light, giving him a calm and contented look, thin eyelids flicked gently, long lashes cast a shadow over sunken cheeks, his dark hair fell across his forehead. Although Severus was much older than him, he still looked so young and vulnerable as he slept, was so fragile, physically so easy to destroy.
Severus was still a teacher at Hogwarts, arguing that he didn't want to think about changing careers. Now, since the threat of war had gone, he could relax a little and stop being constantly tense and on guard. He has mellowed a bit over time, but he was still a very demanding teacher. And he was still working too much, far too much, despite Harry's requests and persuasions.
It seemed like only yesterday that Harry had finished his education, and he still had before his eyes the slender, sleek silhouette of the Potion Master moving swiftly up the stairs with nervous movements.
Probably if he hadn't known him before, hadn't had a comparison, if he met him now he would have found him a lively, energetic person, he comforted himself in spirit.
Now it is seen by generations of schoolchildren, unaware of the significance of the place and the importance of the participation in the war of the person who taught them. To them it was a boring, distant story, something that happened over 40 years ago and so might as well have been hundreds of years ago, what a difference.
Was he like that too? Harry couldn't remember it, it was decades ago, but he probably did, nothing would be spared him. What a shame in front of Severus, the only consolation was that he probably hadn't thought about the subject.
It had recently been Severus' 80th birthday. Severus was now older than Minerva had been when Harry started at Hogwarts. He remembered with horror and shame that he had considered her old then. And now he knew better. It was incomprehensible to him that the students now considered Severus old. His Severus! And yet he was the same as he had been 50 years ago, only his body had changed a little. He felt and thought the same, he was still just as sarcastic, witty, ironic, funny, intelligent as when he was 30. This realisation was falling heavily on Harry. He himself was still very fit, strong and athletic, and did not notice the passing of time. His 60 years meant nothing to the Wizard, he felt just as young as he had 40 years ago. But Severus... he was different, so frail, so neglected over the years, with poor diet and lack of exercise, always putting everything before his health.
He gently reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Severus' forehead, feeling a surge of love for him. He wished he could turn back time and make Severus stay young and vibrant forever, and the very thought made him feel a pain in his heart from grief, sharp as a stabbing. Nonsense, complete nonsense, admonished Harry himself, why think about it if nothing can be done?
They had been together for 30 years, it was amazing! Harry enjoyed every year together and regretted not breaking the ice between them sooner. Well, the important thing is that he finally did. Years passed, but their love was still as strong as at the beginning, if not stronger. Severus brought so much to Harry's life, filled it with meaning and love, even Grimmauld House has made itself a home since Severus moved in there, filling it with his presence, replacing the void, giving it life. Severus' face became a symbol of love, security, happiness and Harry could not imagine life without this face in his life.
In Harry's eyes, Severus still looked very attractive, the passage of time definitely did not harm him, but rather worked in his favour. As a Wizard, he had aged much more slowly than Muggles, and now looked as if he were in his 40s. His hair was as black as ever, and the fine lines he had gained around his mouth and one on his forehead only added to his sexiness. His body was just as petite, lean and covered in small, tight muscles as the day he had first seen him naked. Everything was so very perfect, if only it hadn't been for the unexpected, so unsuitable for Severus evening fatigue....
Struggling to hold back a cry of despair, he leaned over, placed a kiss on Severus' forehead, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying not to wake him. He just wanted to be close to him and soak up every moment they had together. He watched Severus's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. Someday this would end, Severus would draw his last breath and his chest would come to a standstill, but not now. There are still many years ahead of them. Dumbledore lived to be over 120 and might have lived longer had it not been for this unfortunate circumstance. Harry saw no reason why Severus should not live to that age. It was possible that they still had a second as much time together as they had lived together so far.
As Severus began to move, Harry leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I love you", he whispered, hoping that Severus would somehow hear it in his sleep.
Severus stirred and, softly smilling, slowly opened his eyes, looking at Harry with a warm gaze, and Harry's heart began to beat harder. Severus opening his eyes was his favourite sight.
"I love you too," he said, reaching up to brush a stray hair from Harry's face.
Harry leaned in to give him a kiss.
"You're home," Severus said with a yawn. "Hey, love," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I had to take a nap. How was your day?"
Harry's heart swelled with love as he looked into Severus' eyes and as he heard his beloved voice again. After so many years, he still didn't have enough of it, it still made him shiver. He was like an addict, he needed that.
Severus raised himself on his elbow, rose to a half-sitting position, with a mark imprinted on his cheek from lying face down on his forearm, then sat up straight, yawned again while covering his mouth, and leaned against Harry, who immediately put his arm around him.
"What are you still doing downstairs? You look exhausted. You work too hard...You need to slow down, Sev." He tried to make his voice sound light, not betraying stress, but surely the Potion Master was not fooled.
"I just had a long day at work. I'm sorry I couldn't greet you when you got home."
Harry tried to smile. "That's okay. Let's have dinner!"
A slender hand rubbed his sleepy eyes and brushed unruly strands of hair away from his face, then Severus reached for a cup of tea and a biscuit. "In a moment. Let's have some tea first, shall we?" For a while they sat in silence, relishing the feeling of closeness.
But even that will pass, it will remain just a memory that Harry will recall and that will make him howl in despair, just like millions of other little bits and pieces from their life together. Harry felt his throat begin to tighten and his eyes begin to sting with tears. He took a few deep breaths discreetly, under the pretext of sniffing tea, and managed to calm himself. Disaster averted.
As the last biscuit disappeared from the plate, Severus sighed. "What's going on in that head of yours?" His hand closed over Harry's, warm, firm, full of strength and life, and bottomless black eyes met green ones.
"Oh? What do you have in mind?" Harry stopped breathing for a second. Was he that transparent, that obvious with his behaviour?
"You think I haven't noticed that? You've been treating me like I'm made of glass since my birthday. What's going on?" It wasn't a reproach, rather a confusion.
Harry felt himself blush, caught in something he had no reason to even hide or be ashamed of. "I love you so much and sometimes I get paranoid. I'm sorry." He began to ramble on with words.
Severus shook his hand. "Don't apologise, I understand and appreciate your concern. Don't worry, I won't leave you in any way." Straight to the point, as always. Harry smiled faintly, grateful for these words of comfort. "Harry, everything is fine, I'm fine. I know what you're thinking, I know what you're worried about." Severus' hand squeezed a little tighter. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Harry closed his eyes and nodded his head, feeling tears come to his eyes. It was stupid, there was no reason to cry but he was so terribly afraid of losing him. Stop, Harry, stop, he urged himself in his thoughts, for God's sake, he was 60 years old and acting like a 15-year-old!
A warm hand gently, tenderly stroked his cheek and wiped away the tear that had managed to escape.
"Harry, please, trust me, there is no need to worry." His lips gently traveled over Harry's face, who felt so stupid and pathetic, making this scene and crying for basically nothing. Severus had been so good to him, he didn't deserve his patience and forbearance. He sniffled, felt Severus pull away slightly and then hand him a handkerchief, which Harry eagerly used. Harry couldn't remember the last time he cried, but it was a long, long time ago. Probably when Sirius died. He wasn't going to cry, and certainly not like this - with a red, contorted face, wet with incessant streams of tears and water from his nose, sobbing, unable to catch his breath, terrifying Severus with his despair. No, definitely not like that. He wasn't ashamed to show himself in front of him like that, that wasn't the point. Simply facing your fears, saying the unspeakable out loud made it more real.
Severus sat by him patiently, waiting, giving him a moment to recover.
When Harry finally opened his eyes, he met Severus' gaze, whose eyes scanned Harry's face intently. "I see the trepidation in your eyes and I understand its source. Yes, I've had to take a little nap lately, but it's natural. I am still far from old. I am in good health and I still have a lot of life left in me. Is that what you meant? Is that what you're worried about?" He spoke softly, in a warm, soft voice. "Dearest, listen. It's not that I don't take care of myself, you know? I personally prepare all these potions for us, which we drink regularly. They strengthen the heart, the immune system, the memory, improve the kidneys and the liver. I leave nothing to chance. To make sure everything is in order I'll make an appointment for a medical check-up and you'll go in there with me so you can hear the doctor's assessment of my health. Okay? Do you understand what I am saying?"
Harry nodded, still disbelieving his voice.
"That's good." Severus smiled softly. "It's a difficult subject, I know. We all have to face the possibility of death, Harry. But this is a very distant future, and I'm not going to let it consume me. I intend to live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment with you."
A life without Severus... Without a voice informing him, with his typical irony, about the course of the lesson, or whispering with tenderness how much he loved him, without the look of his eyes, without the touch of his hands, without that beloved face which he saw every day, with which he lived, without the sight of which Harry could not imagine living...Harry felt the tears rush to his eyes again and this time he didn't even try to hold them back. "I just don't want to lose you. You mean everything to me." With difficulty he managed to speak through loud sobbing. Now he sounded like a child. He felt sorry for Severus having such a stupid partner. He was certainly disappointed with him now, of this Harry was sure.
But Severus didn't seem disappointed, he leaned over and kissed Harry on the forehead. "And you mean everything to me. But we can't control the future, we can only control the present." His voice was soft, soothing, lulling him almost to sleep. Severus' breathing, his heartbeat resonated in Harry's ears, grounding him. "My present is you and I'm very happy about it, I couldn't have dreamed of anything better. So let's make the most of it and not worry about what might happen."
Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just.... I was so worried about you." His voice breaking.
Skinny, strong arms pulled him into a hug and and tender lips whispered on his tear-soaked cheek. "I know and I love you for it. Darling, I won't leave, I swear. You know I always keep my word, right? I promise you I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you for as long as I can. And, love, we have at least twice as much time ahead of us, it's not a short time. I love you so much and hurting you is the last thing I want to do."
Harry's face was nestled into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, his hair affectionately stroked, Severus's voice sounding quiet but emotional. "And don't apologise, please don't apologise. You're having a panic attack because you love me, because you don't want to lose me, that's hardly a reason to apologise."
Warmth surrounded Harry, snuggling him in, he felt as if he had returned to his mother's womb, where there was only darkness and a sense of safety. "When I am still this, as long as I exist in this body and breathe air, and as my heart beats, you are my life." A soft voice replaced his whole world, enclosed him in a bubble of love. He breathed it, filled his lungs with it, felt it spread through even the smallest vein and cell of his body, replacing the terrifying cold of fear that made Harry tremble every now and then.
Harry, not even aware of how stressed he had been lately felt a weight fall from his shoulders. The relief was so great that for a moment he allowed himself to sob in Severus' arms, expelling his despair and fear that was poisoning his soul and he let him, cuddling him close, repeating tender words and reassuring him until finally the worst was over.
Trying to pull himself together he let out a sigh and hugged Severus tighter. "Thank you. I'm sorry I was so clingy."
Severus kissed the top of his head. "It's all right, my love, I understand. You are always clingy." He laughed softly. "That's the way I love you. But you must trust me when I say it's all right. That is all I ask of you. I may be slowly starting to age, but I still have a lot of love and life in me." Severus smiled and kissed Harry on the lips.
For a moment they remained foreheads touching, breathing the same air, until Harry felt the tension leave him.
"Better now?" Severus' warm breath tickled his lips, causing him to smile.
"Yes." He really felt that way this time. Severus was right, he was at full strength, he was healthy, he was alive, the only problem was that he was slowly getting older. If Harry was going to cry about it, he would have spent the next few decades crying. It was pointless; he would have wasted their time together in premature grief.
Severus was alive, was alive, was ALIVE, and was at his side now, warm and breathing. Harry lowered his head and pressed his face against his neck, inhaling his scent, and Severus's arms wrapped around his back.
Severus understood, of course he did. For a moment he hugged him as tightly as if he wanted them to become one, then gently held Harry's face.
"Yes? Good, that makes me very happy. Now let's have dinner that is waiting for us in the kitchen, I can clearly smell the tomato sauce, then tell me about your day and let's enjoy our day together. We have a lot of living to do."