Author's Note:
All right. You asked for it. Here it is: the epilogue to "The Spells We Know."
Now, this is the LAST CHAPTER. It's real this time.
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Epilogue to "The Spells We Know"
by Galae
Sleepily, Harry opened his eyes. The windows were unfamiliar—the sunlight was streaming in dully, as if through a complex angle. He jumped up immediately, reaching for his wand as if to fend off Lord Voldemort at any second. But no . . . his wand was not there! Where was it?
That was when he noticed that somebody was lying beside him.
Oh.
Okay.
So he won't be needing his wand after all.
Carefully lying down, as to not disturbe Snape, Harry resumed his original position. His lover was breathing evenly as he lay on the bed, still apparently somewhere far, far away from reality.
This was very new. Waking up next to somebody. It should have bothered him a little, because it is so much a signal of commitment and the long-term. But the truth was that Harry didn't mind at all. Instead, something akin of peace washed over him as he watched Snape sleep.
So there it was, the invariable truth—that in Harry's world, reality only appeared when he was with Snape. Lying there, next to this irascible, acerbic, powerful, courageous, redeeming creature, everything else seemed to be a dream, a blur of a memory. The Dursleys, Hogwarts, Quidditch, even Ron and Hermione—they all were like fragments of his imagination. All that was real was this bed that he lay upon, this person he lay beside, and the love they shared.
It had originally been so frightening. How could he be in love, so young? Love was something that came after years and years of companionship and affection, something that you grew into, like a piece of clothing. His relationship with Snape had been nothing of the kind. Instead of endearments, there were snarky comments and biting insults. Instead of a peaceful, winding path, it had been like walking a shaky bridge over a canyon. Instead of an easing transition, there was a jolt, an out-of-the-blue experience, a revelation.
It all seemed so . . . coincidental. Harry could hardly make himself believe that it was meant to be. It was like a chance happening, almost, and that was how Harry doubted himself the most. Looking upon Snape's face, he could hardly resist asking, "What would have happened?" Somewhere, in the haunted dregs of his consciousness, he knew exactly what would have happened. He and Snape would have been still arguing about his very lacking intelligence and common sense.
But yet, life didn't throw him into that path. Life hurdled him love, full-force, in the form of Severus Snape. It gave him something that contradicted all that he had known, all that he had thought of, all that he had believed in. Now, he knew that he could never walk a single day again without wonder, without looking around him and smiling in amusement. Life was all of the sudden capricious beyond belief.
It felt something like irony, that this would be the event that changed his life. Not losing his parents. Not fighting Voldemort for the first time. Not winning his first Quidditch Cup. But finding love in Snape.
Harry didn't understand, and yet he did. It was something like the fact that he was young, but yet he was old.
He could have very well just feigned sleep until the boy got up and left, Snape reflected, but knowing Harry as he did, that could have taken a very long time. Instead, he resignedly opened his eyes.
Curiously, Harry was not looking at him, but staring at the ceiling as if there was some magical formula for defeating the Voldemort engraved into the timbers. Snape had no choice but to give a small cough, to signify his awakening.
"Oh," Harry said immediately. "You're up."
"Yes." Snape had always been one for brevity.
"I have to . . ."
"Yes, go ahead."
"Um."
Silence.
"Well. I guess I'm going to go, then."
Harry looked at Snape, but his professor's eyes were still downcast. He made no move to say anything. Harry sighed and got up.
Snape stared at that beautiful, ivory statue of a body, as the boy whom it belonged to slowly picked up his clothes from the floor and began dressing himself. Snape sat up also. When Harry turned, he was tying the sash on his dressing gown.
"I'll see you."
Silence again. Snape was staring at him, but not saying anything. The only thing that gave him away was his one hand, twirling absently one end of his sash.
"S—Severus?"
Snape walked over and kissed him softly on the mouth.
"Well, that works too," Harry said smilingly as they parted. "I love you."
Snape smiled as well. "I love you."
Without another word, they began to kiss once more. Harry wound his arms around Snape's waist and Snape's fingers ran gleefully through Harry's hair, pulling him closer. Their kiss grew more and more insistent, more passionate, tongues fighting in a lusty dance. Harry felt the stirrings of arousal course through him once more. He softly bit Snape's bottom lip and they pulled apart.
"How many more minutes do we have?" he asked.
Snape stared at him for two seconds before comprehending his words. He turned to the clock. "Forty minutes."
"More than enough time. And I can skip breakfast," Harry said wolfishly. Slowly, he slipped his hands down to undo his professor's sash. Then he stepped back and slowly stripped out of his clothing. Harry sat down on the bed and lay down on it.
Snape looked at him, the divine body of his lover lying languorously upon his bed. The dark green of his comforter made Harry's skin almost glow with heavenly youth.
"Come to me," Harry whispered. He took Snape's hands and pulled him down. Snape lay his full length down onto him, covering his lover from head to feet. He nipped and kissed a line from Harry's ear to his collarbone, enjoying the moans that he made.
"You're beautiful," Snape said simply as they began to make love once more.
End.
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I'm starting to love morning-after scenes.
Review, please?