Must be your skin that I'm sinking in
Must be for real 'cause now I can feel
And I didn't mind
It's not my kind
Not my time to wonder why
I carried him up to my bedroom, his body so frail in my arms I found myself catching my breath for fear my exhalation would harm him. This is not how it is supposed to be-- the young so fragile, the old carrying them.
At first I had thought about taking him to the empty infirmary, but thankfully my feet rebelled and took me up my staircase instead. The thought of him, a gaunt shadow on one of the beds, in a row of beds, in that sanitary and ruthless space... I could not bear that. I secretly hate the infirmary. And I hate it when any of my children have to be there.
I will not... insult Severus by sticking him in there like a child with a stomachache.
I place him on the bed. My bed. Alarm bells go off in my subconscious, but I haven’t listened to them in nearly eighty years; why should I start now? And this is innocent. Very innocent. Dear God, he just nearly bled to death, anything other than this most innocuous of gestures would be grotesque.
So why do I feel... why am I so aware of... his skin. For I am. As he lays there breathing, shallow little breaths that nonetheless send joy through me, I am amazed by his skin. It is pale and tight over his cheekbones, it is smooth as silk on his inner wrist, where I check his pulse. It is...
What am I doing? The question is not the panicked, frantic query I might have thrown at myself half an hour ago. It is calm, simple, reasoned. What am I doing, I ask myself, forcing myself to examine this.
I am touching Severus's wrist and hand. In a manner it is hard to pass off as medical, or paternal. He sleeps, lost in nightmares or dreams where I cannot hope to follow him. But I can hold his hand, grip it as an anchor, willing Severus to come back from whatever world his spirit has retreated to. I can do that much. Hold on to him for dear life, and pray that he will wake. And that when he does...
What? What, when he wakes? What will things be between us? I do not know. I cannot say. So much has changed, in this little space of time. All I know is that I will not push you away again. I will not hurt you again. Whatever the cost.
Severus, Severus, what have you done? With your youthful, passionate, willful, desperate kiss? What have you done to me? To us?
Is there an us?
Oh yes, there is... You have grown up, have you not, and were desirous that I should know it. Still, such a way you brought it to our mutual attention....
I chuckle sadly, but it is not a sound without hope, either. Ah my boy. Dear Severus. I do love you, you know. I will admit I had not conceived of this expression of it, but... Love is Love. Sometimes, it is that simple.
And I wish I had remembered that, back in the office, before foolish reaction and convention ruined something precious. But perhaps it can be rebuilt.
For I do love you. I do... and I don't mind, Severus, I truly don't. And those who might ask 'why'... even the part of me that might ask 'why'... it can wait. This is not the time for that.
Everything gone white
And everything's grey
Now you're here now you're away
I don't want this
Remember that
I'll never forget where you're at
You're awake. Regretful and bitter about it. I see the hatred in your eyes and have to steel myself to it, knowing intellectually that you don't truly hate me, even though you think you do. It's hard work. Your hatred hurts, Severus, like nothing ever has. I wonder at this.
Wonder why it should mean so much... I've been hated before, after all. I've even done my share of hating. But--
Nothing is simple anymore, is it? Nothing is black and white; if it ever was, between the two of us. All to grey.
And all to white. You do indeed look odd, so pale and shadowed on the white sheets, in my white room. So odd and fragile. You're not always present, either; you retreat into yourself, going somewhere I am not allowed to follow you. I grieve silently at this. Now you're here, now you're away-- I wish you'd stay with me, Severus. I wish you'd stay and talk. Stay and meet my eyes. Perhaps even give me a smile.
Where you go... where you go, I cannot follow. Not when you hide behind your black raven's wing eyes, behind the midnight ghosts. I cannot follow you, nor can I stop you from going.
Just come back to me. That is all I ask.
Don't let the days go by
Kiss the rain
Summer rain taps the windows. Smoke from my pipe curls up and around the bookshelves. Through the half-open doorway, I can see you sleeping. One of the books is open on your chest. I smile slightly-- so you've given in to them, at least.
I envy that book, and find my smile growing broader. The situation is patently ridiculous. But that's all right; that's only fair. I put many people into ridiculous situations. It's my turn now. The gods laugh behind the summer rain clouds.
Days go by. Correspondence builds on my desk, every last bit of it unanswered. The Ministry will have to survive without me-- I'm too busy watching a black-and-white boy get some colour back, too busy reminding him that he doesn't hate me. Too busy reminding my heart that it is safe to love.
I'm never alone
I'm alone all the time
Are you at one
Or do you lie
We live in a wheel
Where everyone steals
But when we rise it's like strawberry fields
My God. Of all the things this time together has brought out.... I did not know how lonely I was, Severus. How odd. How very odd. That you should be the one to show me this! It is... amazing, the simple joy and comfort I find in your presence. Even when you roll your eyes at my remarks at the weather, even when you glare at my back as I leave the room... your muttered and sullen remarks make me smile like a fool.
I feel... whole. I do not feel tired, as I have this whole damned war. I bring you tea and re-discover simple pleasures. The way the sun slants in through the windows. The way the African violets on the shelf feel, under my fingers. The way your voice makes me think of old leather and dark wine.
We are reading together, you and I, you propped up in bed and me in the over-stuffed armchair. A tentative peace hangs in the afternoon air, along with the lazy and sparkling sunbeams. I watch you over the forgotten pages of my Seven Hundred and Three Ways Muggles Are Smarter Than Magicals, and a smile curls my lips.
I have grown so tired of the fighting, you see. Of seeing the same cycles enact themselves over and over again. Death, birth, growth, decay, hate, violence, prejudice, cruelty... the story remains the same, only the faces and names change. This time it was Voldemort, before that Grindelwald, before him...
And the war is not won by heroes-- or at least, not the heroes the public sees. Not the people like young Harry Potter, at a year old already hailed as a prince. That's what everyone thinks, I know, even you, Severus.
But the war is fought-- and won-- in you, in people like you. When one of my Slytherins... when one of my children who seemed fated to follow in dark footsteps, when one of them refuses to walk that twisted path... oh, it is past all explaining. Past all description. You rise, Severus, you rise, and it is like seeing Fawkes reborn and soaring into the sun. You rise, and the battle is won. And the war is won. And the darkness cowers, quivers, retreats....
Do you know what I did after you first came to me, confessing the Mark on your arm and saying you wished to change? After you left? I cried. Tears of happiness. I had been so sure we were going to lose you. So very sure. And you proved me wrong, thank the gods.
And now we sit in my bedroom, reading together. A tentative peace, a tentative warmth.
I treated you bad
I bruised your face
Couldn't love you more
You got a beautiful taste
Don't let the days go by
I am sorry for what happened in the office, you know. I don't know if I've said it, but I am. So very sorry, for what happened, for what I did with the gift you presented me with: a vulnerable you. My poor Severus.
I remember the kiss. At times. It's odd-- I recall such strange details. The way you tasted, for one. Mint. Blood. Something you'd taken. I remember the hitch in your breathing. The callus on your thumb, where it brushed against my neck.
The days go by. My pile of unanswered letter grows ever higher. I am content to watch you.
I am content.
Could have been easier on you
I couldn't change though I wanted to
Could have been easier by three
Our old friend fear and you and me
Kiss the rain
Don't let the days go by
Kiss the rain
I wonder what I could have done differently. Not just in the office, but before, in all the years before. Four years, during which you spied for me, risking your sanity and life... during which I used you horribly, I know. I cannot forget that, cannot forget what I owe you.
Could I have changed? Could I have handled it differently? Could I have made it easier on you? Perhaps.
But I doubt you would have accepted it, if I had. You wanted your punishment, after all. Your atonement.
The days go by. Summer rain patters on the windowpanes. I remember the way you tasted, all fire and venom, and I am content. You stare at me, abandoning the pretense of reading, and your hands twitch on the blankets. And in this too I am content.
I needed you more
When we wanted us less
I could not kiss just regress
It might just be
Clear simple and plain
That's just fine
That's just one of my names
Don't let the days go by
Could've been easier on you
Kiss the rain
My book has grown heavy. I set it down and blow out the candle. It's late.
Truth is uncomfortable, isn't it? You know this at least as well as I do. Well then; it's late, and I can afford to make a confession, here in the sheltering dark.
I need you. At least as much as you need me. At first I thought I didn't-- thought it was all one-way, this need and desire, that I was merely humouring you. Oh, how naïve I can be... But I do, I need you. I need you bathed in that ray of sunlight, I need your eyes fixed on me, I need you sitting in these chambers, I need your restless hands to explore the bookshelves, I need your eager mind to find itself a solace here. I need to see you and know I did right with you. I need to feel your hands brush my skin, not in reverence, but in intimacy, as an equal.
It has been so long since anyone dared touch me as a human being. I am Albus Dumbledore, after all, greatest wizard of the age. Who would be so foolish.
I'll tell you who. This boy, this man. So beautiful, his dark eyes and dark hair, so young and so old. So wise, and so brave, and so ruthless it tears your heart to see it. This dagger, this beautiful thing... he loves me.
And sometimes it is that simple and plain, isn't it? That simple and that complex. Love...
I stand in the sheltering dark, moving to the door of my former bedroom (I now sleep on the transfigured couch) to check on you. You are bathed in moonlight from the windows, illuminating your closed eyes and sharp features. Even in sleep you don't relax. A book is open and forgotten on your chest. I absently move it away, smooth the paper, set it down.
There is so much I want to tell you. So much I need to say. I bend down to your face, and breathe in the smell of you for a moment. Sharp and sweet and dangerous.
"I am sorry." My voice, before I knew I was speaking.
"You did what you had to," you whisper. Ah. You are awake. The moonlight catches on your tears, as they trace down your cheekbones and your alabaster skin. I let myself do what I have wanted to ever since that moment in the office, once more tasting your skin. Tasting you, and kissing away this sorrowful rain.
You exhale raggedly. "Damn you. Damn you to a hundred hells. I don't want this to come from your pity!"
Severus. Don't be a fool. If anyone here needs pity, it is me-- I think, unable to move. You struggle to compose yourself, then you spit out the words with your characteristic arrogance and self-absorption: "You don't need to bother, Albus. And I don't need to be here--"
I shut you up with a kiss. Silly, naïve boy. Dearest boy. Beloved.
Outside the window, the summer rain starts up again....
Title: Kiss the Rain (Glycerine)
Author: Dien Alcyone
Rating: R... I suppose.... *sticks tongue out and frowns*
Summary: Events post-Hallelujah as seen from Albus's POV.
Disclaimer: JKR----> characters. Bush----> Song. Oooh, yeah.
Notes: The actual song lyrics say "Glycerine." For a long time, I thought they said "Kiss the rain." Frankly, I like "kiss the rain" better. So I'm using it. You gotta problem with that? Tough. And I may also tweak lyrics here and there. Tough. Tough also if you have a problem with this song being used for Albus-- you think it's out of character or something-- just wait until the NEXT chapter....
