Come to an End

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou seest the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the deathbed whereon it must expire,

Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

~ Sonnet 73 / William Shakespeare ~

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Severus Snape glared at the cup of gently steaming tea on the desk in front of him. He pointedly avoided the eyes that looked at him curiously from the other side of the desk.

Have some tea, Severus.

That twinkle. Oh, the urge he used to have to take the bloody tea and throw it to the other side of the room. Or better yet, out of the window. But with his karma, it probably would've ended crashing down on top of somebody's head and he would've ended up in Azkaban.

Severus supposed it was too late for throwing tea out of windows now. Besides, he simply loathed the thought of communicating with Professor Weasley more than their jobs required them to. And having her storming into the office because of some Spew (oh, sorry, S.P.E.W.) issue would be more than what was required and therefore, unacceptable.

"Would you like some tea, Lucius?"

His life was one huge lump of irony. With a cup of tea.

"No, thank you, Professor."

Typical. The result of impeccable Malfoy upbringing. And such good manners, a true Malfoy. His great-grandfather would have been proud. Too bad Lucius Malfoy died 63 years ago, shortly before the Dark Lord's fall. No one knew why the Dark Lord had decided to kill Lucius. The Malfoys, whenever asked, always politely refuse to answer and divert the conversation to another topic. Severus knows that however the Dark Lord chose to dispose of his most trusted servant, the corpse must not have been a pretty sight to behold.

I would like you to bloody get on with it.

He couldn't be like Albus. He couldn't ask "Is there something you wish to tell me?" in a soft, slightly raspy voice and make it sound like he was actually saying "Pour your heart out to me, everything will be all right, whatever it is you might have done, I forgive you."

But he did try and offer tea. He supposed it was part of the job. No matter how many times Severus demanded and then threatened the house-elves not to bring-in fresh trays with tea and cookies on them on the pain of clothes, they ignored his... requests and did so anyway.

Severus had the theory that Dumbledore's portrait had a conspiracy going on with the house elves. Every time Severus drank tea, Dumbledore could be seen smiling and winking. But then again, Albus constantly smiled and winked. If winking could be considered currency, Dumbledore would be swimming in Galleons.

Bloody moving portraits.

Bloody house-elves.

Bloody tea.

Severus squared his shoulders and decided to plough on ahead.

"I understand that you have been engaging in less-than-appropriate activities lately, Mr. Malfoy." Lucius fidgeted some more under Severus' glare. Severus was pleased to know that after so many years of using it, the glare still had that effect on other people.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Headmaster."

Severus kept his cringe under control. He loathed being called that. He was a Potions Master, not a Headmaster. Headmasters were old men with long white hair and beard that kept being tucked into the belt, wearing purple robes and half-moon specs. Headmasters twinkled.

I. Do. Not. Twinkle.

"Of course you don't. So allow me to give you a bit of advice. If you ever feel the irresistible urge to use any other living being - of the human, magical creature, animal or plant varieties - as target practice, you will find yourself out of your Quidditch team and your house deprived of 200 of its points. Any questions?"

"No, Headmaster."

Cue winking, twinkling and cheerful offerings of lemon drops.

"Good. Return to your Common Room, now."

Severus waited till the door clicked shut to slump into the chair. Merely sighing seemed somehow insufficient.

"Ah, dear Severus. Until I became a portrait, I never would have imagined that you slumped."

Merlin's toes. Will the twinkling never cease?

Severus got up and started making his way towards his chambers. He flat-out refused to sleep in the same bedroom that Dumbledore has slept in. Somehow it seemed... inappropriate. Severus scowled randomly at various students as he went along. When he reached the door, he uttered the password. The door barely began to close and he was assaulted. Pinned against the wall.

A life of constant running, hiding, spying and generally trying to save the world from imminent doom during the war created the clichéd but true excuse of 'need' for them to be together. The war ended and they were once again free men to do whatever they wanted, and still they chose to stay with one another. This time, their story was that it was better to stick to the devil you know. When Hogwarts was rebuilt, the wards around it strengthened and children returned to study in it, Severus and Harry moved into Severus' old dormitory.

"None of the other Aurors would give you any?" Severus asked when he was finally allowed to breathe.

Harry snorted "They tried. My high sense of morality and loyalty to you kicked in and prevented me from doing anything with them." Harry's mouth brushed gently right below Severus' ear. Severus sighed.

"You're smirking," he said. "Don't be too smug about it."

Harry laughed, and his hot breath brushed over Severus' skin, causing Severus' knees to weaken slightly. Severus suddenly wished they were on the bed. "Can't help it. It gets you every... single... time," he heard Harry mutter between licks and nibbles.

Severus heard himself say that the wall was cold and he wondered how come he still had enough wits about him to think about such a trivial thing as the wall. Then Harry started to say something about the heating charm, but Severus lost the flimsy thread of the conversation when Harry's hands started moving down Severus' chest and abdomen and moved further down.

"Let's go to bed, Harry."

I'm not 20 years old anymore and OH-

"-MYGOD! Do that again!"

"What, this?"

"Yes, that."

Harry did it again and Severus moaned loudly.

"Bed, Potter. Now." Severus managed to growl.

"Oh, so we're back to 'Potter' and 'Snape' basis, hmmm? Soon you will start deducting points from Gryffindor just for breathing."

"Don't tempt me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry added cheekily.

They made their way to the bed, where they proceeded to make love slowly, savoring every touch, every moan and breath. Afterwards, they filled the tub with hot water and took turns washing each other. Severus had a suspicion that one of Harry's favorite activities (well, right after sex and playing Quidditch) was washing Severus' hair, for he spent so much time at it.

And no matter how much time Severus' hair spent lathered in shampoo or any of the large variety of hair care products that Harry loved to submit it to, it still laid limp and greasy around Severus' face. The only difference that came to it was that recently it had turned from solid black to solid grey.

They passed the rest of the evening in companionable silence. Well, except for this one regrettable hour during which Weasley came for a visit. She and Harry drank tea and bantered in the living room. Severus scowled at her and took the opportunity to check on a slowly simmering potion that he was preparing in his lab.

When he returned, she was already gone.

"You should be nicer to Hermione, you know."

"Hmm."

"She is the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and Head of Gryffindor, after all."

Severus was affronted. "I am nothing if not cordial to Professor Weasley."

"Of course you are." Harry nearly cooed. So naturally, Severus nearly hexed him. "Hey, let's go for a drink."

"It's bloody freezing out there."

Harry shrugged. "So wear a cloak."

"Besides, I don't think it's wise to mix alcohol with the medical potions we both drink."

"Got a point. Hmmm, Butterbeer?"

"Butterbeer."

Harry took out his wand and said in the general direction of the drinks cabinet "Accio Butterbeer".

Nothing happened.

Harry sighed. "Apparently, we've just run out of Butterbeer. We should add that to our shopping list."

"At times like this, I almost miss Filch."

"His endless drink supply, you mean."

Severus smirked. "I certainly don't miss Mrs. Norris."

"Urgh. That cat was nasty." Harry shivered. "Unfortunately, the new caretaker isn't nearly as alcoholic as Filch used to be. Well, this only leaves the Butterbeer stashed away in your office."

Severus scowled at Harry. "You would really like to sit in that office drinking Butterbeer while being gaped at by dusty old portraits?"

"Well, some of them aren't that old. Speaking of old, Phineas looks quite on the youngish side. Think he was murdered by his students?"

"Possibly. He was rather unpopular in his days."

"Probably a Malfoy did him in. Well, let's go." With that final word, Harry put on his robe and ushered Severus out the door. "C'mon, we're not getting any younger, we want to get there before sunrise."

They took the scenic route to Severus' office, letting the staircases lead them through the empty, echoing halls of Hogwarts.

"Don't you sometimes wish we could Apparate and Disapparate within school grounds?" Harry asked as they climbed down a particularly long and spirally staircase.

"And having to chase splinched brats all over the English countryside? I think you were hit on the head by far too many Bludgers."

Harry chuckled.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, took a right turn, and suddenly they were before the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Wolfsbane."

"Albus always had some sort of candy as a password."

"I'm not Albus."

"I know you're not, I was just commenting. Luckily, this set of stairs climbs itself. Now I know why it's like that."

"So arthritic, doddering, old men like ourselves won't have to go through a heart attack every time we have to climb them?"

"Exactly."

Harry remained silent for a few moments and then, "Inflammation of the foreskin / Reminds me of your smile / I've had ballanital cancroids / For quite a little while / I gave my heart to -"

"For the love of all that is holy and all that isn't, do shut up!"

Harry snickered. "Talk about covering all your bases."

"Potter..."

"Yes, Master."

They reached the top of the stairs, opened the door, and were greeted by the soft snores and mumbles of the various previous Headmasters of Hogwarts in their frames.

"Accio Butterbeer."

Harry put his wand on the desk and snatched the Butterbeer six-pack from midair as it zoomed by. He opened two bottles with his wand, offered one to Severus and gulped down a third of the bottle in one go.

"Too bad we're not house-elves."

"Why, trying to get me drunk to have sex with me?"

Harry chuckled. "We already did. Besides, that's what Imperio's for."

"We're both immune to it."

"Point."

They drank the Butterbeer in companionable silence and watched the various former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts snore softly and mutter in their (Severus suspected pretended) sleep.

"Are they ever awake?"

"Only when I wish the walls were barren. I miss my old office."

"My, Severus, are you getting sentimental in your old age?"

Avada Kedavra.

"Tell anyone and die."

"Everyone dies," Harry shrugged. "Might as well die for a good cause."

"And you deem this to be a good cause?"

"To show the world that you're not just the nasty-Potions-Master-turned-nasty-Headmaster and that you have real sentiments throbbing in a warm heart buried miles beneath a cold, stone one? Yes."

"And you call me sentimental."

"How come you have all this Butterbeer stashed here anyway?" Harry gulped down the last of his second bottle.

"Confiscated."

"Oh."

"I'm not the first one to do it either. Albus had a bit of a soft spot, so he let this minor transgression pass, but previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were as strict as myself (more, probably) in observing that no Butterbeer enter Hogwarts."

"So some of those bottles must be waaaay past their expiration date."

"Butterbeer doesn't have an expiration date."

"Oh, good."

"Why don't we return to our dormitory? It's getting rather late."

"As you wish."

In their room, they changed into their pajamas, went through all the pre-sleep routine that they had and laid side by side on the bed. Severus read a book, or rather, attempted to read one while Harry distracted him with more or less success. Finally they blew out the candles, kissed each other and went to sleep.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Life went on.

Harry got promoted to Head of Department of Internal Security at the Ministry.

One day, shortly before Christmas of Severus' 108th year, Severus held a meeting with the Governors of Hogwarts as he usually did before the holidays. Suddenly Fawkes disappeared and reappeared moments later. This was unusual enough that Dumbledore opened his right eye to peek.

Fawkes dropped a note on the desk in front of Severus.

Severus opened the folded piece of paper and read, his features becoming rigid and unreadable. He got up immediately.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. There is an urgent issue I must attend to."

Severus said nothing beyond that, but immediately took his cloak and left the room, the coat hanger clattering to the floor even as the door closed. As soon as he was out of school-grounds, he Apparated to St. Mungo's.

He was told that Harry was in the 4th floor - Spell Damage. When he got there, he was astonished at the sight that greeted him.

Harry was lying on the bed nearest to the window, the blanket drawn up to his chest, with one arm draped delicately over it. Harry looked old. Severus was moved to see that Harry looked twice his age. Wisps of thin white hair dispersed over his head, paper-thin, wrinkly skin. It's as if 70 years have been added to Harry in the course of the morning.

Severus heaved a sigh of relief. Luckily, the mongrel has been dead for many years. The last thing Harry needs is to be pawed and covered with dog-drool right now.

A Healer was attending to the person in the bed next to Harry's. Severus waited for her to finish and then he asked her, "What happened?"

The Healer peered closely at Harry and Severus.

Never seen a gay couple before? No? Well, congratulations, there's a first time for everything.

After a few more back and forth glances between the two she said, "He was hit by the heart attack curse. Luckily they brought him here in time. 5 minutes later and it would've been futile. But his condition is shaky, at best." The Healer left the room and Severus drew a chair next to Harry's bed, where he fell into an uneasy and uncomfortable sleep, holding Harry's cold and clammy hand in his.

Some time later Severus opened his eyes and saw Harry peering and smiling gently at him. "Hello, love."

"Tough day at the office?"

"Oh, the usual," came the feeble reply. "When did you get here?"

"A few hours ago."

"What about the pre-Christmas Governor meeting?"

"Oh, they decided I was not important to their meeting and decided to hold it without me. So I decided to go get inebriated by Butterbeer with Wonky."

"Her name's Winky."

"Whatever."

"How did you get here?"

"Apparated."

"Lowered the anti-Apparition wards around Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

"What about the de-Splinching of brats all over England?"

"They'll have to de-Splinch themselves. Or wait for the appropriate personnel from the Ministry to show up."

"I was awake earlier; they told me I'll have to stay here for a few days."

"Anything you want me to bring here?"

"Tomorrow's Quidditch match - England vs. Morocco, a Butterbeer six-pack, vast supply of chocolate frogs, my Quidditch through the Ages -"

"You know that book cover to cover."

"Not the new edition that I bought two days ago, I don't."

"Anything else? Perhaps a house-elf to do your bidding?"

They continued bantering like that for a while. Before they knew it, the sky was darkening and it was time for Severus to return to Hogwarts. Severus kissed Harry gently on the mouth and passed his palm over Harry's brow. Harry sighed when Severus' palm lingered over where his scar used to be.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, Severus left the hospital and returned to Hogwarts. When he passed the hallways he could hear students and Professors alike muttering. When Hermione saw him, she rushed to him and asked, "How is Harry?"

Severus had half a mind not to answer, to shove past her and head straight to his dormitory, but then he saw her blood-shot eyes, the tear tracks on her cheeks and her red nose. He told her about the attack on Harry and that Harry was now recovering in St. Mungo's.

"I'll see you at dinner, Professor Weasley. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I need to get drunk. Very drunk.

Hermione barely had time to move aside as Severus swept past her in the direction of the dungeon, where he spent the rest of the afternoon drinking in the cool semi-darkness of the unlit living room.

When it was time to leave for dinner, he seriously considered missing it, but knowing Weasley, she'd send out a search party or worse. She'd come to the dungeon for a talk. So that's how Severus found himself walking towards the Great Hall, when all he wanted was to drown in a sea of scotch.

I'm walking in a very straight line. Sod it, I'm not nearly as drunk as I hoped I'd be.

Severus showed up for dinner looking as sober as ever, though there were bags under his eyes and he looked haggard rather than greasy. He could drink the pub's supply of scotch for the week and still be sober. Food appeared on the table and he did all he could to stop himself from gagging. Hermione poured some peas into his plate.

"Go on, Severus, you must eat something."

If looks could kill, Hermione would be dead before she hit the floor. Severus speared a single pea with his fork and ate it while looking at her, daring her to say anything.

Hermione tsk-tsk-ed at Severus. "Honestly! You are worse than Ron."

"What does he have to do with anything?"

"Same temper."

Severus' mouth started to curl. If anyone else were there instead of Hermione, they would be trying to get away as fast as their feet could carry them. Being Hermione who she was, however, she merely looked calmly back at him.

Same manner of speech, same voice, same hairdo. All she needs is a bloody tartan robe. Here, let me conjure one up for you.

He sat in front of his stone-cold peas, mashing them into green goop. Slowly, students started to make their way out of the Great Hall. Then Severus got up and walked briskly to the dungeon.

A few days later Harry was released from St. Mungo's, laden with an assortment of gifts and bouquets. The day after the attack, an article had come out in the Prophet saying that the boy Who Lived has suffered grievous injury. Two hours later the reception area was swamped with flowers and get well cards.

Can I take some of those? I need them for a potion I'm preparing.

Severus went to take him back to Hogwarts, and together they made their way back on a Thestral (it still wasn't safe for Harry to Apparate and a broomstick would have been much more nausea-inducing than a Thestral).

Harry walked slowly, leaning on a cane. He looked old and frail. Too frail.

The Muggles are wrong. There are some things that duct-tape isn't useful for.

The Ministry official has explained to Severus that the Dark Wizard in question has been known to cause the same grief to Muggles, and that he was currently being held prisoner in Azkaban, waiting for his trial.

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The Dark Wizard that had cursed Harry was eventually sentenced to spend 5 years in Azkaban.

Harry never fully recovered. Several months after the incident he decided to retire from his position (encouraged by the Ministry who felt that his job could be done by someone more capable). He was compensated very generously and he put all the money in his Gringotts vault.

Severus watched him grow weaker and older year after year. Harry spent his days reading books by the lake and throwing toast to the Giant Squid. Also, his magic never returned to full power as it was prior to the attack.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, Severus joined Harry by the lake. He looked at Harry and was moved by how his pale, translucent skin turned golden when with the sun's warm caresses, almost making it look like the skin of the young man Harry had once been.

Suddenly, Harry sighed. "I'm old, Severus."

I'm older than you.

"I always thought that I would die fighting against Voldemort," he said, looking at Severus with his dazzlingly green, big eyes.

Severus didn't know what to say. I always thought that I would be the one to kill Black with my own bare hands, but he conveniently fell through the Veil first.

"I don't want you to remember me like this, Severus. I'm not 20 years old anymore. Haven't been for the past 90 years."

"There are potions for that, you know."

"You know what I mean. When was the last time we made love?"

8 years, 7 months, 16 days ago, but who's counting?

"Harry, old age is part of this whole 'being alive' business. There's nothing that can be done about it."

"I should've died that day."

"But you didn't."

Harry sighed, "I'm tired, Severus."

"Why don't we go inside?"

"Okay."

Melodramatic old git. Severus hated it when Harry talked like that.

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They lived peacefully with each other until one day, when Harry was 110 years old, they went to sleep side by side as they had for the previous 87 years or so. They went through their nightly routine, read for a few minutes and kissed each other good night.

When Severus woke up the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that they had somehow spooned during the night. The second thing he noticed was that Harry wasn't breathing.

Harry had died peacefully in his sleep.

The funeral happened too quickly. People with red puffy faces blurred in front of Severus. He entered the Great Hall, but then he forgot why he was there in the first place. He noticed that all colorful banners have been exchanged for black banners and gently-smiling images of Harry. He remembered that picture as the one that was used in the first page of the Prophet when the death of Voldemort was announced.

Beneath the large portrait which hung in the Hogwarts' crest usual spot it said:

HARRY POTTER

The Boy Who Lived

1980 - 2090

Then he saw Hermione. She was slumped on the Gryffindor table. Her shoulders shook. It took a moment for Severus to recognize her location as hers and Weasley's and Harry's old spot.

He walked away from there without saying anything.

There was nothing he could say.

~Fin~