"I . . . ." Severus' words trailed off and he answered Harry's question with a blunt, "Yes."
"Your answer is going to be the same the month after that and the following one, too, isn't it? In fact, a year or ten years from now, your answer is going to be identical, isn't it?" Harry softly asked, unable to believe how much this hurt.
Severus held his eyes and gave a slow nod. "I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Harry stammered. "You're sorry? You won't even tell me what I did wrong, and you say you're sorry?"
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Confoundingly enough, there was once again truth in Severus' eyes. Truth and true regret. The whole thing made no sense.
"If I didn't do anything wrong, then why are you doing this?" Harry demanded, praying that he could hold himself together long enough to get some answers. He already felt an utter fool. He didn't want Severus to think him any weaker or needier than he'd already painted himself, but he couldn't just let this go. Not without knowing why. "You know I love you. I'll settle for any level of contact you agree to. I . . . I won't push you for sex. You know that. If I haven't done anything wrong, then why won't you even try? I know you love me as much as I love you. Or are you going to tell me I'm wrong about that, too, that I've been wrong about everything?"
That wasn't something he'd considered, that he could have been wrong about Severus from the start.
Harry could almost see Severus considering giving a positive answer to that last question. But apparently, even Severus in all his screwed up retreat wasn't ready to give lie to everything they'd been to each other.
After an agonizing hesitation, Severus said in an oddly gentle tone, "No. You weren't wrong."
At his wits end, Harry ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and all but begged, "Then why are you doing this? Tell me, please? I – I have to understand."
Severus seemed to debate the wisdom of answering before finally giving in. "I have always been cursed by a vivid memory. There were things that were done in Burke's stronghold; things that were said, that I will never be able to forget."
Harry didn't really know what Severus was talking about. But Severus' inflection told him that that one line things that were said was the key. Abruptly, Harry remembered that trash Burke had been talking right before he'd incinerated the fiend. "Has this got to do with that stuff Burke said about you?"
The pain in Severus' eyes was more than agony. It gave Harry his answer long before his slow nod.
"You're leaving me because of something that bastard said?" Harry couldn't quite believe it.
"There were no lies spoken in the dungeon that night," Severus stiffly informed. He looked prepared to be spat on.
Remembering some of the accusations Burke had made, Harry tried to absorb it, tried to understand how anything that degenerate had said could influence Severus this much, but then he remembered Burke's mental skills and knew that he wasn't dealing with reason here. It wasn't simply words. Severus had never said, but Burke had made it plain that he'd raped Severus' mind as well as his body when he'd held him prisoner. God knew what kind of insane ideas the bastard had planted.
"There's nothing anyone could say about you that could change my feelings for you," Harry softly insisted. "I love you. I don't care what he said."
He'd truly surprised Severus. He could see that, but he could also see that it wasn't enough.
"I care," Severus said, his voice dull and broken. "He . . . ruined everything."
"How?" Harry demanded. "What's changed? I love you the same as I did before all this happened, maybe even more after all we've been through together. How can you let that bastard win like this? How can you let him destroy us? What he said doesn't matter, Severus. I swear it doesn't."
"It matters to me. I . . . I can't live with you, knowing that you know," Severus said, and Harry could hear the truth in that as well. "I'm sorry. That is my final answer on this."
This time, Harry had no argument to make to that retreating back. Severus knew he loved him, and it wasn't enough to convince him to stay. What else could he say or do?
He watched Severus until the door closed behind him, standing tall and strong. The moment that ancient oak door slammed shut and he was alone, Harry gave into the despair that had been gnawing at him since he'd found Severus in that hideous torture chamber. Sinking to his knees on the dust-caked floor, he cried as he hadn't cried since Sirius' death.
*~*~*
"Hello, Severus," Hermione Weasley said as she entered the lab where he taught potions.
Severus hadn't expected to see her. She'd been visiting him during their shared free period since that first night she'd played SCRABBLE with Harry and him, but he'd thought his breaking it off with Harry would change that. He knew Harry would have told his friends by now.
"Hello," he guardedly answered. "I didn't think you'd come today. He told you?"
The serious expression on her face and the worry in her eyes told him she knew what he'd done to Harry.
"Yes," she said with a nod, taking her usual seat at the student bench directly before his desk. "He's . . . well, I've never seen Harry like that. He was inconsolable."
Strangely enough, there was no accusation to her words.
Even so, they hit him like the Cruciatus curse. Wishing that she'd just come out and berate him with whatever she'd come here to say to him, he found his eyes dropping to the homework he was grading as he replied, "That wasn't my intent."
His gaze was drawn back to her face, for all that he'd rather not watch the friendship she'd offered him degenerate into hate.
"Severus, why are you doing this? You love Harry as much as he loves you. I know that you've been through an awful lot, but leaving Harry like this makes no sense," she said the words in a rush, as if she wanted to get them all out before she were turned into a frog or suffered some such dire consequence.
Her expression seemed to suggest she expected as much from him, and once, she would have been right. He would have blasted her to perdition for her temerity as little as six months ago. But now . . . he simply didn't have it in him to savage her as he once would have. He knew how wrong what he'd done to Harry was. Harry hadn't deserved that kind of cruelty. Harry's friends had every right to be furious with him. Only, she wasn't acting angry. Severus didn't understand that, for he'd seen how fiercely protective Hermione was of Harry.
What confused him even more than her lack of anger was the fact that she didn't know why he'd left Harry. He'd been certain that Harry would have disclosed the unpleasant truths Burke had revealed to the Weasleys last night after he'd ended it so coldly. That Harry had kept his secret was incomprehensible. Yet, Hermione wouldn't be sitting here regarding him with such concern if Harry had told her. She couldn't know, but what man could have resisted the temptation to strike back after being treated so unfairly?
"What did he tell you?" Severus questioned, his heart thundering in his chest as he waited her response.
Her gaze was level and utterly open as she said, "Not much. Just that you told him that you couldn't be with him ever again because of what Burke had done to you."
Stars, Harry really hadn't revealed his secrets. Nor had he lied to his oldest friends. Harry had simply refrained from revealing the total truth. The consideration was unprecedented in Severus' experience. He honestly wouldn't have blamed Harry if he'd announced the truth at the next staff meeting. Revenge, he understood. This restraint was beyond his ken.
Realizing that it would seem odd if he didn't say something soon, Severus pulled himself together enough to demand, "You don't deem that sufficient reason?"
If anything, the pain and worry in her bewilderingly warm gaze seemed to deepen as she said, "I know you've been through hell. It's only understandable that you'd be . . . upset after all that happened. But you know Harry. He'd never push you for . . . anything you weren't ready to offer."
Her cheeks turned bright red as she stumbled over that last part. It was clear that she was as uncomfortable as he was. But she was a Gryffindor on a quest and not even modesty would stop her from following through.
Severus had the grim vision of her stopping in here every morning with those compassionate eyes and gentle tone trying to talk sense into him. He would have felt better if she'd condemned him. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear this every day; he also knew what it would take to ensure she never returned.
He weighed his options carefully. If he told her the truth, their association would be forever over. That pained him nearly as much as losing Harry had. But, as much as he'd come to value her company, this considerate coercion would be unendurable on a daily basis. Taking a deep breath, he took the first step on a path from which there was no going back when he softly said, "I wish he'd told you the truth."
"The truth?" Hermione questioned in a startled tone.
"I fear Harry was attempting to spare my feelings in this matter," Severus said.
"I don't understand," she said, leaning across the students' bench so that their gazes were closer.
How could she understand? It wasn't as if he'd actually explained anything.
Holding her confused eyes, Severus braced himself and said, "Burke disclosed embarrassing truths about my past to Harry, truths that I cannot live with Harry knowing."
He watched her confusion turn to total bewilderment. "You're leaving Harry because of something that monster said?"
"Burke told no lies to Harry that day," he protested.
"What? Severus, there's nothing that . . . fiend could say that would in any way alter Harry's feelings for you. He loves you," she insisted.
"Between any two people, there must be respect, dignity. Burke's revelation stripped me of all pretence of either," Severus attempted to explain, trying to be truthful without actually touching upon topics they both would prefer remained unvoiced.
"That isn't possible," Hermione said. "Harry knows you. I know you. Nothing Burke could say could diminish our regard for you."
She was so damn certain, so . . . loyal. Always in the past, he'd sneered at these stereotypical Gryffindor traits, but today he found himself almost in awe of them.
"I beg to differ," he softly denied. "I appreciate your confidence, but I assure you, it is entirely misplaced.”
"No, it isn't. Harry, Ron, and I, we all know that you were a Death Eater when you were young. We know what that means. Details wouldn't matter. That isn’t who you are now."
For over a minute, Severus could only stare at her, shocked beyond speech. It was clear she truly believed what she was saying.
All his life, he'd hungered for this kind of acceptance. Harry's love had been a gift beyond his comprehension, but that he could gain this level of support from someone he wasn't sleeping with was truly astounding. That he was completely unworthy of her regard went without saying, but knowing she felt that way about him . . . it was humbling.
"I'm afraid that the truths Burke detailed made my Death Eater days pale by comparison," Severus said, knowing where this was leading and wishing there were some way to avoid the whole sorry mess.
He'd shocked her; he could see that. He could almost read the possibilities reeling through her vivid imagination. To her credit, she didn't instantly attempt to deny his assertion. He could almost see the thoughts she was considering.
Finally, she rallied with, "That isn't possible. Anything that made Death Eater actions seem mild would have landed you in Azkaban."
"Providing the authorities were aware who had committed those acts," Severus pointed out the flaw in her logic.
She paled a bit, but stuck to her guns. "Are you saying you committed atrocities the Ministry doesn't know about? I don't believe that."
"Why not?" he questioned. He'd seen that he'd thrown her earlier, yet she had her glowing Gryffindor certainty back again.
"Because Harry wouldn't have been okay with something like that. Whatever Burke told him, it can't have been something that injured innocents. So, it isn't atrocities or Death Eater crimes. And, if that's the case, then there isn't anything Burke could say that would matter," Hermione insisted again.
Her logic was flawless. They both knew Harry would never have been able to excuse the types of actions he'd insinuated.
Taking a deep breath, Severus quietly pointed out, "There are other acts that can brand a person as socially unacceptable as the Dark Mark does."
Her expression made it plain that she didn't believe him. "Severus, we all know you. We care about you. Harry loves you. What could that murdering child molester possibly have said that you think would change that? You're not making sense."
"There are certain actions that all men would find unacceptable in a . . . potential mate's past," Severus said.
"Well, Harry obviously didn't find whatever it was unacceptable," Hermione said.
Feeling as though he were banging his head against a stone wall, he ran a hand through his none too clean hair.
"Nothing Burke said could alter the way any of us feel about you," she insisted.
There was nothing for it. The only thing that was going to get him out of this corner she'd backed him into was the truth. "I assure you, there are things I could tell you that would straighten your hair and make you turn your back on me forever."
"You were instrumental in saving my husband's life. You're Harry's lover and part of our family now. There isn't anything you could tell me about your past that will change that," she denied with typical Gryffindor fervour.
