snaples | Post Mortem [ 1/? | PG-13

..............................
Post Mortem
The Beginning (1/?)
by Snaples
..............................

He watches his world turn to dust in plumes of smoke across a ravaged fairy tale. Unicorns lay in a molten waste of dazzling white and violent red where once a dark forest thrived. Ghosts drift in aimless despair, moaning for lost kin or soul.

Harry takes a stumbling step forward, his sword dragging the scorched earth behind him. He is tired, dirty and bleeding from a thousand inconsequential cuts; he has felt physical pain for so long, he knows nothing else.

"We did it for nothing," he sighs, and the man who fought and survived at his side snorts. Harry turns to watch that very man as he shifts against the rock he has claimed; in a world turned to ashes, every little bit counts.

Severus Snape bows his head against the hilt of his sword in a gesture that may suggest humility, or exhaustion. "On the contrary, Potter. We did it for something; we stand here, alive, while He festers in His smoldering ruins."

"I doubt it will give great comfort to those who have lost their loved ones," Harry says tightly. In the wake of the battle, Severus Snape has reverted to his pitiless self. Harry thought there had been moments, on the field, when Snape’s cruel facade had faltered to reveal something almost human.

That feeling is gone, and for a moment Harry has the uncomfortable sensation of being back in class. That memory seems so ancient now. Just shy of seventeen, Harry Potter is a man of experience, of wisdom and skills. He laughs when he thinks about his Occlumency lessons.

"Laugh," Snape says, and Harry chokes to a stop, not realising he had done so aloud. "It seems the right moment, after all. Weren’t we just speaking of great comfort and the loss of loved ones?" he asks with a sneer as he rises. He leaves behind his claim of the rock, and Harry watches sadly as a couple of Cornish pixies immediately take possession of it.

Harry turns away. "You don’t care either way."

"You’re absolutely right, Potter. I regularly put my neck on the line for a cause I care nothing about." He winces when Snape curls his hand over the nape of his neck. "You would do well to remember what I did here."

Harry glares at the back of Snape’s head as the man moves forward to gaze at the disaster. "Why? So you can avoid trial?" He feels a surge of satisfaction at Snape’s startled glance. "I’m not stupid. Dumbledore is dead. I’m the only one left to testify on your behalf."

Something changes in Snape’s face; the rage he has seen on the field, the cruelty that curls his lips just before a killing curse spills from his mouth. It is enough for Harry to tense. "You are stupid if you believe there's anything remotely resembling an organised government left."

Harry shakes his head and walks over to stand next to Snape. He shuts his eyes and turns his face toward the wind. A scent of scorched flesh triggers an odd quiver in his stomach. "Don’t underestimate a beaten people, Snape. Where there’s vengeance, there’s always a way."

In the distance, it’s possible to distinguish the pyres, burning brightly against the dark horizon. "You owe me," Harry says softly. "I’m not so stupid not to know that much."

He ignores the look searing his cheek. He smiles, instead, and begins the journey toward the ruins. "Shall we? I wouldn’t want to miss the revel."

He can hear Snape following, the crunch of dead branches and brittle bones drifting into the seared breeze.

End