Of Hope And Love

Of Hope and Love

*

Chapter 10:

Of the Potions Master

*

Snape was seemingly truly pissed that day. Of course, many could have claimed that he was never on a good mood, but today, he was even more annoyed than usually. He even took five points from Slytherin as Pansy Parkinson made a mistake with her potion. The others would have laughed, if they had dared -- earlier, Snape had taken five points from Gryffindor because Dean had breathed too loudly.

Yup, Snape was really annoyed. And his mood certainly didn't improve as the lesson went on, either. Many girls were already in tears halfway through the lesson, and Harry saw even the usually so calm and maybe-professor-has-just-a-bad-day Hermione biting her lip to stop herself from crying. Snape had just stopped on his usual rounds around the classroom, looked into her cauldron, and asked what exactly she thought she was brewing. Hermione had told that she was brewing the Malicule Potion, like instructed, and Snape had said that it resembled more Hippogriff urine. And, like Harry knew very well, Hermione's potion was perfect. There was no reason for Snape to be so rude -- except that he was angry.

However, while the professor certainly noticed everything that happened in the classroom, his attention seemed to be somewhere entirely else. At times Harry would dare to sneak a peek at the Potions Master, and then he'd notice the half-frozen expression of the man. It looked like Snape was deeply concentrated on something that had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson. What it was, Harry had no idea, but it certainly didn't stop Snape from concentrating on the lesson at the same time. At times he could have sworn he'd seen the man's lips moving slightly, like he'd been talking to somebody in his mind, but that was just impossible. Snape would never allow his face to reveal anything that even distantly resembled any human actions, especially not human feelings.

Then why did the black eyes at times get the most astonishing slight glint to them? It had to be some kind of twisted delight as the man thought of new ways to torture his students. Yes, that had to be it. At least, if it was something else, Harry did not know what it could be.

It was not a miracle the man was annoyed, though. Like Harry knew very well, there had been a Death Eater meeting the night before, and almost everybody in the meeting had been submitted to the Cruciatus Curse. Snape had been no exception. The worst thing was, he hadn't even got any valuable information.

Lately, the War had brought no news. The whole school was expecting to see the Hell breaking loose any day now. They learnt shielding spells and duelling, ways to transform harmless objects into weapons or shelter, healing potions and curse antidotes. Everybody was strained, and hushed conversations filled the corridors. Nobody sneaked out after the curfew -- well, so Harry did, but he did have an excuse. If he had followed the rules, he would have never been able to meet his husband. Dumbledore, thankfully, understood this, and had instructed the teachers to ignore him if they found him in the corridors at night.

Remus. Remus was four and a half months pregnant now, and at times almost as moody as Snape was. At times he would rage at Harry and accuse the teen of making him a prisoner, at other times he would just snuggle up to him and whisper sweet words. Well, so that did make him different from Snape -- the Potions Master never had sweet moods, hardly even tolerable ones. Too bad.

Just then, Harry noticed the said Potions Master's eyes sharp on himself, and concentrated wholly on his potion again. Surprisingly, he hadn't done any serious mistake yet. He could already hear Snape's voice in his ears -- "I'm impressed, Potter. You have managed not to fail in making a potion not even some most incompetent second-years could brew. Very well done, indeed." It was not what he wanted to hear, but better than the nastiest comments. He'd be lucky to have only that.

Just then, a sharp voice broke into his thoughts. "You'd better add those bat wings soon, Potter," Snape said nastily, "or you will spoil the potion. I'm fairly surprised you've managed to keep it from exploding even this far, but please, do your best not to do that now, either." Well, it seemingly had been too much to hope for. Snape would not be easy on anyone.

As the lesson went on, Harry found it more and more difficult to just stay quiet and bear everything Snape did or said. Biting his lip and trying to remind himself that the man had a reason to be upset, even if he didn't have any reason to take his anger out on the students, Harry bravely kept quiet as even Slytherin girls started to burst into tears. This far Snape had been nasty only to the various Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs in the Extended Potions class. Even though there were nowadays a lot fewer students, there were still well over fifty of them, and Snape had well more than enough non-Slytherin targets for his anger. If he turned bad towards his own House, he was well beyond just annoyed. Even thinking about the anger Snape had to have to snap at Slytherins made Harry shudder in fear.

Finally, however, the nightmarous class ended. After making even the last girls cry and all boys very pale with his comments on their potions, Snape allowed them to leave -- although not without assigning an awfully long homework essay at first. Nobody dared to protest; they were in too much hurry to just get out of the classroom. Harry had never seen Malfoy as shaken as he was that day.

Compared with Snape's attitude, the constant wariness of the other teachers felt almost like a break. The other lessons also felt like mere minutes after the Potions lesson that had seemed like it would never end. So, Harry was almost surprised when he noticed that the lessons were over.

Of course, he still wasn't free to go. He had friends to talk with, homework to do, and -- although that he certainly didn't mind -- a Quidditch practice. After what seemed like forever, however, he could finally excuse himself and slip into a very special corridor with a very special painting on the wall.

After making sure nobody was seeing, he said the password, then slipped inside to the quarters his husband lived in. Unsurprisingly, he found Remus on the couch, sound asleep. One of the werewolf's arms was wrapped around his stomach, the roundness of the said stomach now well visible, as he didn't need to use the Concealment Charms in the safety of his little "home."

Actually, Harry hated the fact that Remus had to hide his pregnancy. True, he did understand the safety reasons and all those. However, the Concealment Charms had to be casted by the person themselves, and they took a great deal of the person. Add that to the exhaustion caused by the pregnancy, and it was bad, especially with the full moon coming around. Remus was always claiming that he was fine, despite the transformations and now his pregnancy and everything, but Harry knew better. After all, he saw the exhaustion in the warm amber eyes, he heard the tired voice whenever the burden got too much. He knew.

In Harry's eyes, Remus was the very image of absolute beauty. The golden sandy hair that nowadays was spiced with increasing amounts of silvery strands was just breathtaking, especially when it framed that delicate face. The way one especially stubborn lock of hair always fell onto his forehead, just tickling his eyebrow with its tip, was absolutely adorable. And that forehead, high and clear, was another story altogether, like all of his face. Those glowing amber eyes, that fair skin, the perfectly shaped nose, the rosy lips... There weren't simply enough words in the known human language to describe them.

Deciding to move on before he sounded too much like an overemotional sap, Harry then let his gaze travel downwards. The slender, yet muscular arms were fascinating, and the way his small form could contain such long and slim legs was just miraculous. His chest was perfectly shaped, too.

And, like the very centre of his beauty, there was his stomach. Nowadays a clear bulge rose from where had once been a narrow waist. That round stomach, the way the werewolf's robes fell over it, the special shape that told of something entirely else than just some extra fat... It was fascinating, really.

And even more fascinating, like Harry noticed when he walked nearer to his lover, careful not to wake him up, was the fact that there was a baby inside that beautiful stomach. A baby, another life. A little human being that in a few months' time would be out of its little sanctuary and take its place in the real world, in a caring, loving family. That child would get more than enough of what Harry could never recall having -- love, warmth, understanding. That child would never have to be afraid when they were at home, would never have to fear being beat or otherwise mistreated. This he vowed by everything he held holy.

Carefully, Harry raised his hands to frame the round stomach. He slowly ran his hands over the smooth surface, moving them carefully and concentratedly like trying to memorize every inch of his lover's rounded stomach. No, not his lover's -- his husband's. That word was the sweetest of all words, really.

He glanced at Remus's face again, finding a pair of amber eyes watching him, well awake. It was sometimes startling, the way Remus woke up -- like animals, one minute sound asleep, the next wide awake. It probably had something to do with his wolf side. Anyway, Harry thought it was adorable.

Smiling a bit, Harry now took a step nearer and leant down to place a kiss on Remus's lips. "Good afternoon, my dear," he said with a small grin. "Slept well?"

"Actually, yes," replied Remus with a tiny yawn. "What time is it?"

"It's about nine o'clock already," Harry told him. "I couldn't get here sooner, sorry. Snape was on an extremely bad mood today -- he had even the Slytherin girls in tears by the time the lesson ended -- and I've been fighting with the essay he gave to us. True, Snape's been really moody lately -- it must have something to do with the War -- but today, he was just insufferable. Well, so he did take a Cruciatus last night, but it's not like it was our fault, now is it?"

"What?" Remus looked up at him, looking startled. "Severus was hit with the Cruciatus?"

"Yes," Harry said, sighing a bit. "Voldemort's getting more and more suspicious... He tortured almost every one of the Death Eaters last night. Snape wasn't lucky enough to get out unharmed."

"And you felt it all," finished Remus for him. He looked incredibly sad, and almost fearful.

"Actually, no," the teen replied truthfully. "The potion Snape brews for me keeps the pain away, although I do still get the visions. I just can't understand why he still keeps brewing it -- today, he seemed to be ready to bite my head off."

"Don't judge too harshly," Remus said. He sat up on the couch, pulling Harry down next to himself. "Severus has a lot to deal with... More so than many others. He does have an excuse."

"How could he have an excuse to treat his students like we were just some worthless pieces of shit?"

"Harry?" Remus asked, then, as the teen looked up at him, finished, "Do shut up." And then, just to make sure that he was obeyed, he pulled Harry to himself and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

*

It was dark and quiet, and so very cold. Kingsley did not know where he was, what time it was, or even how much time had passed since he had last seen sunlight. At times, Death Eaters would come, and they would either bring him food -- though his meals were few and far between -- or, usually, torture him. He was becoming used to it by now. Well, so he still couldn't ignore the pain -- the blinding, agonizing pain that at times faded into only a horrible ache -- but he had learnt not to scream. Too loudly, at least.

Severus wouldn't have screamed. He knew that. He also knew that even thinking about Severus was a bad move, and still he couldn't help himself. It pained him, pained to know that he couldn't see his lover, maybe not ever again, but it also brought him some kind of twisted comfort. Sometimes, when he'd just been tortured again and the pain was almost too much, he would just curl up and shiver in the damp coldness of his tiny cell and think about Severus. He'd imagine that Severus was there with him, that the Potions Master drew his battered body into his arms and caressed him, healed him, fed him some horrible-tasting potions, and scolded him for getting himself into such a state. Then, he could almost forget the fact that he was alone and in pain and that he would probably never see Severus again.

However, he could not keep up the image forever. After some time, the pain and coldness always returned, having only multiplied as they were now accompanied with the agony of not having his lover with him. By then he would desperately tell himself that at least Severus was safe, that Severus was alive and well.

They probably thought he was dead. Severus probably thought he was dead, too. At times, Kingsley thought so even himself. It was very probable that he would indeed die in this cell, never seeing daylight again -- a thought that would have been much more scary if it had also meant having to part from his lover. But Kingsley had already bid his goodbyes; knowing that every mission might be his last, he always gave Severus a proper farewell before leaving anywhere. Severus would never know of his pain and torture, he would never know of the silent whispers in the darkness of the cell. The Potions Master would always think that his downfall had been a quick and almost painless Killing Curse, that their goodbyes had been the last time he'd ever said the name of his beloved. At least he would think that, if Merlin had any mercy.

But, considering how the things had been lately, Kingsley didn't find that very probable. And nothing could have pained him more than the thought of his lover mourning.

Shivering, he again lay down on the floor. Maybe he could get a bit of rest before his tormentors returned.

*