Whispers

Catch a falling star and hold it in your pocket

Never let it fade away

Catch A Falling Star, Perry Como

It's autumn evenings like this when I remember how the story of my love - shall I really say so? - began. It's not as if I haven't met the man before. But indeed, it is like the beginning of a new chapter in the book of history. A new room in the house of our friendship. A newly smoothed path towards a common future.

It's the story of a falling star that *had* the magic I never really believed in, despite being a wizard. It changed whispers into a full, rich voice again.

The sun is about to set and the sky has this indefinable, mysterious colour. I sit here in the tower above the grounds of Hogwarts, and my love still works down in his dungeons, grading essays and inventing potions. Sometimes I look up from my paperwork - bothersome duties as the Headmaster - to watch that sky, a dark blue gradually bleeding into a soft, orange-purple glow around the golden ball of the sun. But as soon as night has fallen and the stars come out, he'll come up to watch the night sky with me.

Many moons have passed since that falling star changed our lives. His confidence in my thoughtless recited tale and my patience have brought him to where I always hoped he'd be. I know that he is happy now, I carefully assure myself of this every day. I see it in his lively eyes, his strong and fluid motions. I hear it in his wonderful, rich voice, his hearty laughter. And I feel it in his soft kisses, his passionate embraces and his tender touches on my naked body when we're sharing the bed at night.

I turn the quill in my hands, watching the ink of the letter slowly drying and let my thoughts stray back to that particular evening.

Another day had passed and I was sitting behind my huge desk, watching the fall of night. At the distant horizon the blood-red sun touched the mountaintops and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Colours blurred, high above the royal blue faded into a lively blue, a majestic purple and a soft golden, orange glow around the setting sun. It was all so quiet and peaceful there, in my little refuge above the world.

Down in the Houses' common rooms there was still laughter, children were enjoying themselves, healthy and alive. I had closed the window, to keep out these sounds, carried up here by a soft autumn breeze, talking of their happiness. I was thinking of those whose voices weren't so full and rich anymore. Whose lives had been changed, turned upside down, had been wasted to enable that happy crowd down there to go on now as usual. Some of them didn't have a voice anymore. Those who had, didn't make use of it like before.

Like Severus Snape.

He had lost weight and his usual rich accent had turned into a barely audible whisper. But this whisper was louder than any shouted accusation. For I knew it was my own responsibility. And I lived to regret.

Not moving I sat and watched darkness slowly crawling over land, forest and sea and taking over the sky. It was just like a metaphor for the fight of good against evil. Night conquers day just to be defeated by a new morning. A circle that never ends. And I wondered if it was the same as with Voldemort. If the time we lived in then was just another day and if darkness would take over again? Not the next day, not the week ahead. But maybe within ten, fifteen, fifty or even a hundred years?

Lost in my thoughts I startled at a soft sound at the door. I turned the chair and quickly lit a few candles to light the room.

It was Severus. He sneaked into my chambers, knowing he was welcomed and appreciated at any time of day and night. Whenever he couldn't stand being alone or simply needed company. But he moved and looked as if he was a stranger there. Unfamiliar to my rooms - and to me. And though two summers had passed since we finally banned the ultimate evil - Merlin help, this time forever! - I understood only too well, he hadn't fully recovered yet.

Slowly he walked over to the window and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He leant against the wall and stared down to the lake, lying in the dark. I knew him well enough to read his body-language. He didn't feel just lonely. That day he felt completely alone and what he needed was comfort, care and tenderness. I knew that he was desperately longing for it, but I also knew that he wouldn't be able to ask for it. He came there, without my calling him to my chambers. That had been his way of asking. We'd been there before.

It was a strange communication we had invented. He never uttered any physical needs. And I knew the reason well enough, why he couldn't. So I didn't reply with words, but with deeds, carefully making sure what I did would be pleasing him.

Sometimes I wished he was able to... tell me what he *wanted* or *needed* - but that would have been only to soothe my anxiety. It was fine the way it was then, as fine as it could have been - under the given circumstances. But I always hoped time would allow him to recover and loosen up.

He softly sighed and I slowly got up from my desk to walk over to him. As I placed my hand on his shoulder he dropped his arms to his sides. I felt the tension in his muscles and started to massage his shoulder with one hand while the other soothed up and down his left arm. Gradually he relaxed and I moved closer, in an attempt to make more contact between our bodies. Slowly, unconscious of what he did, he tilted his head to the left. A kind of conditioned reflex he wasn't able to repress. A leftover that spoke of the past he wasn't over yet, then. He was craving my touch but was too afraid to admit it - to himself as well as to me. Letting me take the lead allowed him to get what he needed without having to be responsible. It was hardly a wonder to me.

Lightly my lips touched the sensitive skin where neck and shoulder melded together. It had taken me quite a while to figure out the exact spots he liked to be touched. A few inches higher, at the jugular, would bring back memories of times when he was treated with less, times I'd rather not remind him of. My hand found and covered his, resting on his thigh.

"You're so tense, Severus. Been a hard day for you?" I murmured softly.

He only nodded and released a sigh, neither being in the mood nor really being able to talk to me. But that didn't matter. When we were close like that, most of the times it was me who was talking. It seemed to please him, having me talking to him, as long as it was tender and not too obtrusive. He never talked himself, very rarely replied; monosyllable words, soft sighs and moans were the most I got to hear from him. Voldemort had trained his spy and little pet more than well, I thought bitterly. So it was I who did the conversation. I was asking and answering for him. That way we both got at least a touch of what we were longing for. He got the physical contact and affection he needed - which he was too afraid to ask for - without having to feel guilty and being reminded of all the times he had to face bodily contact with Voldemort.

It was little comfort for I never could allow myself to fully enjoy this pleasure. Part of me always stayed cautious, trying to find signs of his feeling uncomfortable.

Like then.

Carefully I watched his breathing, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, the slight trembles of his body against mine, the twitches of his muscles and the perspiration on his skin.

But this far he was only exhausted and tense from an unnerving day, so my hands continued to gently knead his neck.

He leant into the touch, lightly, but enough for me to notice, and I felt the tension in his sore muscles slowly subside as I worked my hands on him. Given the chance, I told myself, I'd ask him to take off his clothes. But I knew he couldn't stand being naked around me. He only revealed as much skin as necessary to give me better access. Until then, I had seen him only once completely without clothes.

It was after I had asked, practically *forced* him to face Voldemort again. He returned, bruised and battered, bleeding from several deep wounds. He was hardly able to walk, but refused being taken to Poppy. So I had carefully led him to my own bed and taken off his robe, waistcoat and shirt. There had been bloody streaks from a whip and bruises and marks from fists. Removing his trousers I had realised the way Voldemort had welcomed back his long absent follower...

Closing my eyes and trying to breathe evenly, I shifted away these thoughts of the past. Voldemort was gone. Defeated. Finally and for all time! It was Severus who was with me, on him I should focus, I reprimanded myself.

I felt his warmth against my chest, his body melting against mine as my hand travelled down his arm again. I rested my hand against his thigh and he cupped it with his own. Spreading my fingers I invited him to entwine them with his while my other hand moved down his shoulder and soothed over his chest.

"I wanted to be close to you all day, Severus." I breathed into his ear, trying not to sound too desperate. It had been quite a while since we had been this way, since he allowed me to get so close.

I felt his breathing slowly accelerate and the muscles in his chest and thighs lightly jerk. I could also feel the scars, through the layers of his clothes - a master's marks on him he hadn't bothered to get removed. A sign of his self-accusations, of the death of so many he used to feel guilty for. He didn't care about his body and to me it was a wonder he still attended the meals in the Great Hall - at least sporadically. He had to re-gain his will to *live*, I mused, not just to *exist*. And I tried my best to bring him back to all the good life had to offer to him still.

I was glad he allowed this intimate contact, though I barely did more than just holding him. Sharing some precious minutes of holding him in my arms and talking to him as if he was my lover. Gently massaging his shoulders, soothing my hands over his chest, shoulders and arms. Kissing his neck, his hands and ears. Holding his hands in mine and trying to let him feel what he meant to me - without being demanding.

At any cost I wanted avoid to repeat any touch Voldemort might have applied to his poor body. I loved this man in my arms who was just one more victim of the war. And never would I have dared to abuse this position of trust to satisfy my own baser physical needs. I'm not saying there weren't any. Merlin knows, there still are, though one might think at my age those pleasures of the flesh become less interesting! But having them fulfilled with someone who depended on me wouldn't have been a sexual act, but a display of power. I was living with the hope that Severus would recreate, so he was able to decide on his *own* if or when and how to make more of this. As long as he couldn't, it had to be me who decided for his best.

He pressed back into my arms and reached for my fingers that were splayed out on his chest. His temple rested against mine and I felt his heart beating under my palm. He felt so warm and alive in my embrace, but most of the day he acted as if he was a puppet on a string. With a painful twitch in my chest I remembered his full, rich voice that the war had turned into such a tiny, almost lifeless whisper.

Suddenly he tensed and pulled his hand from mine. Startled, afraid of having made a mistake I pulled away a few inches, but then I saw his bony finger pointing at the window.

"What's out there, Severus?" I asked concerned and watched his face.

"A falling star," he whispered and for a moment his eyes carried a strange, lively gleam.

I moved closer again and without really thinking about it, I whispered into his ear, "Do you know what Muggles say about falling stars, Severus?"

Like a child he kept his eyes fixed on that tiny glowing point that slowly fell from the sky while he shook his head.

"They say you can make a wish when you watch a falling star. And if your faith is deep enough, the wish will come true."

Slowly he turned in my arms and raised his eyes to meet mine. He wasn't just looking into my eyes, it was more like he was trying to read my mind. The candle behind me spread flickering shadows on his pale face and made him look ages older. He looked at me as if asking why I said this, and if it was true. And I wondered what I would tell him - if he put this unspoken question down in words.

Then, without a warning, he fell into me and started to cry. I silently cursed myself for being so pathetic, telling silly tales, not proven to be true and thus planting ideas in his heart and mind that might never come true.

He was clinging to me like a trusting child, crying his soul out. Never before had I seen such a touching display of emotions from him. He had had a tendency to be choleric, more than once I had had to reprimand him as a student for his, let's call it 'passionate' temper. And more than once had he been raging in my office when he got news of someone else being assigned as the new DADA teacher. But never had I seen him laugh a hearty laugh or heard him cry, showing an emotion that came directly from his heart.

Soothingly I cradled him in my arms, shushing him and gently petting his head. His body was shaking with sobs and I felt tears sting the corners of my own eyes. I was afraid to tell him what I'd have loved to tell to soothe him. That I loved him, that I had loved him for a long while already and that I always would. That I would have gone to Voldemort myself to spare him from all this. That looking at him, feeling his pain, constantly regretting what I did but at the same time knowing I had no chance to act differently was my punishment. But I was too afraid he would either refuse me or come to depend on me.

"Please..." he gasped between sobs and tightened his embrace, as if afraid I'd leave him. He was clinging to me like a drowning man would to a trunk when the waves are about to close over him. "Please!"

"Tell me what you want, Severus." It hurt so much to see him like this, knowing it was all my fault - but not knowing how to cure his hurt again. Carefully I rocked him, like I would have rocked a child in my arms.

"I don't want to go on like this," he whispered into my neck.

It sounded like a suicide note to me, cold shivers ran down my spine and a wave of sadness washed over me. The thought of him no longer existing in *this* form scared me. I stiffened and closed my eyes. I knew I wouldn't be able to deny him this wish if he asked for my help. Too many times I had asked for his help - without being able to really thank him. And after all he had gone through, it would only be fair to help him if he wasn't able to do it on his own. If I had asked him to stay alive, at Hogwarts, by my side, it would have been more than selfish. I wouldn't have done it for *his* good - but to keep him by my side for longer. All these thoughts raced through my head, almost all at once.

"I'm tired of all these nightmares. Every night I'm hunted by Voldemort's picture and voice in my dreams." He cried and his body was violently shaking in my arms. "I need to find some rest and peace at last. But I need your help."

Swallowing my tears I managed to keep my voice steady, but I didn't dare look at him, too afraid my eyes would betray me. "I'm not sure I can do this..."

"You're the only one I trust, Albus. Don't send me away..." he pleaded and slowly unfolded from our embrace. "I can't do this on my own, I need your help." He searched my eyes and clawed his hand into my shoulder.

Swallowing hard I nodded slightly. I couldn't refuse this wish, I decided. As hard as it seemed to me, this was his life and after all he had suffered, he should be able to end this misery at whatever point he decided. I reached for his hand on my shoulder and gave him a soft squeeze. "You shall get my help, Severus. But have you considered your decision?"

He stared at me as if he couldn't believe what I had asked him. Slowly he pulled his hand from my shoulder and started to unbutton his robe and shirt. Revealing the scars on his chest he looked up at me with a frown. "I don't want to be reminded of him anymore. I need those scars to be removed, Albus. They're memories of my past, and they're haunting me every night and day." He sounded tired. Tired of his nightmares and tired of explaining himself to me.

Tears flowing down my cheeks, I pulled him into my arms again. "Of course I will, Severus, of course I will..." For a while we just stayed there, holding each other and being caught in our very own thoughts. All I felt was relief: I had misunderstood him and what he needed my help for was to remove the scars.

"Albus..." he suddenly whispered.

"Yes, Severus, my dear?" I asked back and gently stroked his back.

"Do you think you - someone could... could someday... probably... kind of... like me?" he stammered, unable to even look at me and trembling all over.

I pulled back and took his face into my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Severus," I softly told him. "I know I have no right to tell you this, and after all you've been through I would understand if you didn't believe me. But the undisputed truth is that I do love you."

He held my gaze and his eyes were a blank. "But how can you love me?" As if following an instinct, he tugged at the collar of his robe and tried to cover his bare, scar-covered chest. Letting go of his face I reached for his collar and coaxed away his hand.

"Don't." His statement was in between a plea and an order. He was ashamed of his body, but to me he was beautiful. And I wanted him to know the way I felt about him.

"Don't hide yourself from me, Severus," I whispered and slowly slid the cloth to the side. "I want to see you." I wanted to see him, to touch him. Feel him in my arms all night long, naked, resting his head against my chest.

"But I'm... the scars..." he stammered and cast down his eyes.

"We're going to remove them, dear," I promised and carefully traced a large scar with the tip of my index finger. "Every single one. First we're going to remove those on your skin and then those on your soul. I promise." It wasn't just a simple promise I made, it was a vow. I felt so overwhelmed by emotions, by a sudden rush of protectiveness and love, that it almost hurt. I had to hold on to myself to not crush him into my arms and bruise his lips with a kiss.

I led him over to my bedroom and lit some more candles. Helping him getting undressed I had to bite back cries of horror. He looked even more terrible than I had expected. There were scars Voldemort had imprinted on his skin, on his chest and on his back. And there were ones he obviously had inflicted upon himself by using a sharp knife, on his wrists and forearms. He was too thin and his skin almost transparent. At least there were no fresh wounds or bruises, I noticed. With a special diet he would gain back his weight and his skin would get a more healthy, rosy colour. Those hurts on his body could be cured, because they were easily seen. Those on his soul wouldn't be so easily detected, but I was determined to try.

I made him lie down on the bed, face down and sat down beside him on the bed to start removing the scars. Putting my wand against each of the scars and tracing the angry red lines formed on his milk-white skin, I murmured the spell to dissolve them. It took me quite a while, and I made sure I didn't miss a single one. When I was finished with his back, I asked him to turn over to let me continue with the front. Not wanting to cross the last boundary of his intimacy, I pulled the corner of the comforter over his privates, trying not to make a big fuss about it, and continued to erase the scars from his chest.

With closed eyes he lay on my bed and breathed regularly. A little faster and more shallow than usual, I noticed, but regularly. I finished his chest and reached for his arm to heal those wounds he had inflicted upon himself. For a moment he opened his eyes and searched my gaze. Then he cast down his eyes and turned his head away from me. I understood only too well how he felt. "You must think..." he started, but placing my finger to his lips I silenced him. I placed my wand beside me and gently brushed my palm over his arm. "I have no right to judge you, Severus."

"Why are you always so understanding and gentle?" His voice was thick with tears and his chest heaving and sinking fast.

"Oh, I wouldn't describe myself as gentle, Severus." I had to release a soft chuckle at his flattering characterisation.

Slowly he turned his head and looked at me. His eyes were like a child's, open and so trusting. For a long while he sized me up without saying a word and I held his gaze, still caressing the scar-covered inside of his arm. Then he swallowed and closed his eyes. I picked up my wand and continued removing the scars that were left on his arms.

After I had finished my task I put aside my wand, and watched him lying on the bed, looking so tired. The treatment was much more exhausting for him than for me. And I felt the need to soothe his soul as well. But I didn't dare touch him uninvited, though I would have loved to feel his soft skin under my fingertips and palms. Then the balm in the drawer of my nightstand came to my mind. I had used it on myself several times on various occasions when I felt all the responsibilities growing too heavy for my shoulders.

"Severus," I whispered and shifted on the bed, leaning towards my nightstand. "I'd like to salve your body with a scented balm. It's good for relaxing the muscles and soothing troubled minds." His eyes flew open and his gaze took my breath away. He only nodded and I motioned for him to turn onto his stomach. Obediently he did as I suggested and turned around while I fetched the jar with the balm that contained various herbs, oils and honey and smelled softly of cinnamon and sweet almonds. I dipped my fingers into the oily fluid and warmed it between my palms.

Turning to him again I noticed the comforter had slid to the side and allowed my gaze wander down along his exposed back. I felt the blood rush down to my loins and caught my breath. Age from folly could not give me freedom - I suddenly remembered a line from that famous Muggle writer and released the breath again.

I flattened my oiled palms against his shoulders and started massaging him with the relaxing balm. With slow, circling motions I spread the oily fluid over his neck, shoulders and back. He sighed softly and I felt his muscles relax and the skin heating up and took some more balm for the small of his back and his buttocks. He tensed under my hands as I barely touched his cleft and it took me an instant to realise it wasn't abashed arousal. First I was afraid that he was too scared, being reminded of his painful past and would ask me to stop. But he didn't move away from my touch, and after a short moment he relaxed again. Taking more of the balm I carefully kneaded his buttock cheeks, avoiding touching him there again.

I was relieved he didn't ask me to stop, and as I didn't want to push him too far I continued my ministrations and slowly rubbed the sweet-scented balm into his thighs and calves. Then I gently urged him to turn onto his back. This time he didn't follow my suggestion so obediently, almost reluctantly he rolled onto his back and tried to hide his arousal with the corner of the comforter. At least my accidental touch hadn't done too much harm, I thought, and pretending not to notice I reached for his feet to continue salving his body. He was shaking and breathing fast and irregularly and moving up along his thighs I cautiously spared his loins. Instead I reached for his arms and worked my way up to his shoulders and down his chest. I stopped at his abdomen and slowly moved my fingertips in circles around his navel. I longed to touch him there, but it was his decision.

"Severus..." I softly said. "Look at me."

His eyes flew open and I was almost drowning in those shimmering pools of black.

"Tell me what to do..." I asked and hoped I didn't sound too desperate or too demanding.

"Whatever you want to do..." He replied and for an instant there was a dangerous, shady flicker in his eyes.

Pulling back my hand I shook my head. "Severus," I tried to explain him. "This is not about *my* needs or wishes, dear. Do you *want* me to touch you? Then I'm going to touch you. If you *don't* want me to touch you this intimately, I won't."

"Would you like to touch me?" he asked, looking a little bit suspicious.

"I would love to touch you, dear," I started and reached for his hand. "Until now I touched your body because I meant to heal your scars, like any medi-wizard would. I would have touched this body the same way if you had been somebody else. But if I touched you from now on, I would touch you in order to arouse and satisfy you. I'd touch you like a lover, and I wouldn't want to touch anybody else like that." I needed to make sure he understood my motives to give him the freedom of choice. "If you refuse my touch, I shall respect your decision. I will retreat so you can rest in my bed tonight for you shouldn't walk back to your own chambers in this condition. I myself will sleep in the other room on the recliner and you can lock the door with a spell if you like."

For a long time he watched me, considering his reply. Then he shifted and sat up, sliding his oily arms around my neck. "I'm not used to this, Albus... I want you to touch me... No one has ever been gentle or asked for my ..." he murmured against my neck and I gently cradled him in my arms.

"Nothing will happen that you don't want me to do, Severus." I pulled back and gently brushed a strand of his oily hear off his forehead. "If you feel uncomfortable with *anything* I do, you will tell me to stop *immediately*. Do you understand?" He nodded, closed his eyes and breathed a "yes" into my ear. "Good," I replied and gently kissed his forehead. "Let me get into something more comfortable first, all right?"

I reached for my wand. The thought of letting go of him for just an instant bothered me, so I magically changed into my comfortably loose night-shirt. I freed myself from his embrace and climbed onto the bed. He shifted to make room for me, and softly sighing I stretched out beside him. Hoping my now obvious arousal wouldn't scare him, I placed my glasses on the nightstand. I cupped his face in my palm and gently brushed my thumb over his quivering lips.

"I'd like to kiss you," I whispered softly and felt my mouth go dry. It had been a while since I'd kissed someone and I hoped I hadn't forgotten everything. At his nod I leant in and ever so cautiously brushed my lips over his. A feathery touch that went directly down to my loins. I watched him closely, his eyes were closed and trembling he was looking for support by clinging to my arms. A soft moan escaping his mouth encouraged me to repeat the touch. And still I wasn't able to close my eyes, too afraid of doing anything that might scare him. This time I applied a little more pressure to my touch and his lips gave in, parting ever so slightly. The memories of earlier kisses returned, and almost instinctively I remembered how to move my lips and tongue. I nipped his upper lip, once, twice and a third time, and he could barely keep himself from shivering. Curiosity won over me, I darted out my tongue and licked over his upper lip. There was the faint touch of camomile and mint. His eyes moved under the lids and I felt his hand travelling up my arm. Closing my eyes I let myself melt into this kiss. I parted my lips to let his tongue slip into my mouth. Carefully and with tiny strokes at first he explored my mouth, but soon his motions became braver, more demanding and only too willingly I obeyed.

Before long we grew short of breath and almost reluctantly I parted from him. Breathing heavily I opened my eyes and had a look at him. His eyes were still closed, his lips rosy, swollen and slightly parted.

"You're beautiful when you've just been kissed, Severus," I whispered into his ear and caressed his cheek.

Without opening his eyes he leant into me and wrapped his arms around my neck. Blindly, his lips searched mine as he pressed his naked frame against me. "Please..." he pleaded, and before I was able to reply he had sealed my lips and his tongue slid against mine. I knew only too well what he was longing for and gently caressed his back.

The kiss softened and I let my hand travel down to his hip. His skin, still slick with the balm, felt wonderful against my palm and fingertips. Gently I pressed him back into the mattress to have better access to his front and slid my hand along the waist to his abdomen. He whimpered into my mouth and I broke the kiss.

"Please..." he moaned and writhed under my hands. "Please..."

I brought my hand to his cheek and smiled down on him. "I know you feel like you can't stand this just a single second longer. But I have no intention of rushing things. You want my hand to stroke you to completion, and you will find your release, I promise. But there's more than that one part of your body that deserves all of the attention and tender affection I intend to display on you. All you have to do is to relax and leave it all up to me, love." He closed his eyes, nodding, and I lowered my lips to his.

With closed eyes I let my fingertips explore his ear and neck, followed the line of the collar-bone and rounded his shoulder. When I reached his nipple, he arched up and moaned into my mouth. I rolled the tiny nub gently between my fingers, turning the soft flesh into a hard little button. Reluctantly I parted from his lips to let my mouth follow the trace of my fingers. As I brushed over his jugular he tensed but quickly relaxed again. His skin was so soft and tasted of sweet almonds and cinnamon, from the salve.

I made sure my touches would stay light and tender and wouldn't grow too demanding. Too easily my own desires could have overwhelmed me, to mark him as my own. And that would have been as disastrous as what Voldemort did. It shouldn't be about me, I repeatedly reminded myself, it was about *his* pleasure and well-being. If I had lost my sense in a rush of passion I could have hurt him even deeper.

I closed my lips over his nipple and gently sucked it into my mouth. His hands clawed into my hair and he tried to rub himself against my side. My hand slid down over his slick abdomen and brushed over the patch of dark hair. He was breathing in short, ragged gasps and hissed my name and barely audible pleas. I tore my lips from his nipple and sealed his mouth again, closing my hand around his hot, hard shaft. Slowly I started to stroke my hand up and down, and gradually he relaxed into my touch and into the kiss. As if he realised there wasn't a single wish I'd not fulfil. His ragged breathing slowed down a bit and his urgent motions turned into a lazy swaying against me.

Planting feathery kisses, I let my mouth travel to his ear. "Would you like me to make you come into my mouth?" He tensed in my arms and I felt him grow limp in my hand. Pulling back I looked at him. I had no idea why his mood broke, but obviously the thought didn't please him.

"Severus, love, I don't have to. I just thought you might enjoy it," I explained and gently kissed him.

He frowned and cast down his eyes. "It's just..." He paused, seemingly looking for words. "No one ever did this to me. I had to service... him... and I can't imagine you'd enjoy it." He looked up again, obviously more than just confused by my suggestion.

A world was tumbling down for me. I had never considered *this*. How could I know that his activities as a spy affected his private life this much? I hadn't had the faintest idea what I did when I asked him to spy for me again. I had witnessed his wounds when he returned that night I had sent him away. But in all honesty I had always thought – as Severus never mentioned it again and I hadn't bothered to bring it up - it to be a singular event, not an initial act that then became a habit. Voldemort had abused him in the most despicable way, quite apart from the Dark Mark and all that, and disabled him to later lead a life like anybody else could. I felt guilty, despicable just like Voldemort. I had never really known about what happened. I had never tried hard enough to find out to soothe him. But this was not the time for self-pity. I needed to try to correct his strange point of view about giving and receiving oral pleasure.

"Dear," I whispered and compassionately touched his cheek. "If it's done willingly and with the necessary care and attention, it's a wonderful experience. I want to please you, because I love you most dearly. He," like Severus I avoided his name, too. "He never meant to receive pleasure from you, he only tried to torture and humiliate you."

He watched me with wide open eyes, amazed, as if he couldn't believe what I just said. "You're not going to gag... or cough, or be hurt?" he asked carefully.

My heart was aching, but I managed to smile as I replied. "I want you to enjoy receiving this pleasure from me. Believe me, none of us is going to get hurt. I have done this before and I know how to relax my throat, how to move my mouth and my tongue."

"But..." he started, but I silenced his protest with a soft kiss. I could already imagine his next argument.

"I have tasted love's seed before, Severus. I won't choke or throw up, and I won't have to spit it out." I let go of his manhood and reached for his hand. "I do want to feel you in my mouth, love. I want to feel the texture of your skin, map out every vein, each tiny rise and hollow. And I want to feel you pulsing your seed into the cave of my mouth when you're coming. I want to taste, to digest you. I want to savour your taste on the tip of my tongue and swallow you so you become a part of me I never have to let go."

Closing his eyes he moved closer, and resting his head into the hollow of my neck he slid his arms tightly around my neck. For a long while I just lay there, holding him and gently touching every bit of skin within reach. I could barely follow the thoughts he must have been lost in, but I decided to simply wait until he would give me a sign. At first his body rested pliant against mine, moving in time with my movements. Then I felt his breathing accelerate and his hip starting to sway against mine. A small, barely noticeably motion at first. He shifted and his lips sought and found mine again. As the kiss grew more passionate, the motion of his hip against mine, pressing his arousal into my stomach, also grew more urgent and I let my hand slither down his body again.

Again my hand closed around him and gently stroked him a few times. He tensed and I decided to finally give him what he was craving.

"If you feel uncomfortable, Severus love, you'll tell me to stop. Won't you?" I asked him after I let go of his lips. He nodded and smiling I kissed his cheek. I took my time, kissing the way down along his body towards his loins. I gently nibbled and sucked folds of tender skin into my mouth, always avoiding letting him feel my teeth. He writhed under me, restlessly shifted on the bed and clawed his fingers into the sheets. I was intoxicating myself with his sighs and moans, with the softness of his skin that still tasted of cinnamon and sweet almonds. I was overwhelmed by how much he trusted me to let me do this to him, and I hoped I would do it all right in order to please him.

Having reached my destination I placed a small kiss at the tip of his throbbing manhood and deeply inhaled his unique, musky scent. For a moment he tensed and held his breath, but as I darted out my tongue to lash over the tip, to taste him, he released a low growl and arched up against my mouth.

"Easy..." I murmured and soothed my hand over his bony hips and flat abdomen to keep him down on the mattress. First I teased him only, lapping my tongue over the sensitive head, tracing the brim of the head. He seemed to enjoy my ministrations so I decided to continue and I took his tip into my mouth. Carefully I sucked and flickered my tongue against the hypersensitive skin, coaxing more moans and sighs from him. When I was about to caress his balls he tensed and reached for my hand to stop me. I pulled away my hand and kissed the insides of his thighs.

"It's all right..." I whispered and tried, not to think of what Voldemort had done to him to still cause such a reaction.

Gradually he relaxed and I picked up where I had left. After some time he was moaning and writhing with pleasure again, and I was satisfied with the result. Slowly I slithered my tongue over the length of his shaft to wet him before I took him into my mouth completely. With each time pushing down I took him in deeper, and at once felt my own arousal interfere with my caresses on his hardened flesh.

Carefully shifting, without letting go of him, I pulled up the hem of my night-shirt to free my own, aching member. This was about his pleasure and satisfaction mainly, not about mine. But as much as he needed to be caressed in order to assured of my loving affection and to be brought to completion, I needed to do something about my arousal, too.

I moaned around his engorged member when I closed my palm around my own hardness. I tried to time the motions of my hand and my mouth, to please both of us in unison, wondering, how it might have felt if it had been his hand, not mine. Dimly I realised his hand had slid into my long hair, pulling me tighter against his shivering frame. It wouldn't take very much longer until he found release, I thought and intensified my sucking. My nose stuck in his coarse, curly hair and his balls slapped against my chin rhythmically. I forgot to move my hand on myself and almost frantically swirled my tongue around his tip in my mouth. He bucked his hips, lifting himself from the mattress and slamming himself deeper into my throat. I felt his balls tighten and crawl back into his body and with a long, loud moan he came.

His cock pulsed spurts of hot and viscous, sticky and salty seed into my mouth. Greedily I swallowed all he had to give and started to move my hand again. Almost roughly I pulled and tugged at my aching organ, forgetting the tenderness I usual displayed on myself. I was driven by the need to find release at any rate. And it didn't take me long to reach fulfilment. Moaning around his slowly growing limp manhood in my mouth I shot my come into my hand.

Tenderly and with care I licked him clean and placed a small kiss on his hip, then I cleaned myself with the hem of the night-shirt. I didn't have the strength to move, so I simply rested my head against his thigh and closed my eyes. Only for a moment, I told myself. The instant must have stretched into minutes. When I opened my eyes again, startled by a soft touch at my shoulder, I found Severus looking at me sleepily and pointing at the pillow beside his head.

"Come," he whispered softly and helped me sit up.

The semen had dried on the night-shirt and left a large, white spot. Following my first instinct, I pulled the shirt over my head to drop it beside the bed. Shifting and stretching beside him I felt his puzzled, curious looks at me.

"Is this all right with you, dear?"

He nodded and moved into my open arms, arranging himself against my chest with a yawn. When he found a position to rest I pulled the comforter over our entwined frames. Perfect warmth surrounded me, and I sighed as I revelled in the luxurious feeling of skin on skin. I felt satisfied, warm and at peace. And I felt like I never wanted to let go of him.

"Severus?" I murmured and brushed my fingers through his long hair. "I love you."

He didn't reply. By the steady rise and fall of his chest, the deep, regular breathing I realised he had fallen asleep. Not wanting to disturb his much-needed rest I reached for my wand and waved out the candles. And before long I fell asleep too, wondering if falling stars really did have magic power.

A sound at the door brings me back to the here and now and for a moment I stare down at the quill in my hands.

"Still busy with paperwork, dear?"

I hear his full, rich voice with that faint, ironic touch, before I'm able to see the speaker and look up. Quickly I reach for my wand and light the candles in my dark office to have a better view. He closes the door and leans against the post with crossed arms in front of his chest. He looks so different from the man that sneaked into my chambers so long ago. But he's still the same, still and again the man I love. Feeling grateful for what we're able to share I drink in his picture.

The sparkle in his deep, black eyes. The arched brow. The barely noticeable twitch in the corners of his mouth that makes him always look as if he wants to add some sarcastic comment. The long, black, silky shimmering strands - no longer greasy and wispy - that float about his face, giving him that touch of an adventurer or a pirate.

Slowly he pushes himself off the post and walks towards me. I pull myself out of my admiring observation and nod.

"Yes, kind of." A thank-you letter to Arthur Weasley for a special favour he did me.

He chuckles and walks over to the window. "Not a single cloud. Do you think we're going to catch a falling star tonight?" he asks without taking his gaze from the window.

Now it's my turn to chuckle and I walk over to the table in front of one of the heavy, book-laden shelves. I have already forgotten what Arthur Weasley called it, but I haven't forgotten how to use the large box with needle and the horn. Carefully following his instructions I place the needle on the black disc that starts to turn. First there's a sharp crack, then it rustles and then the music starts.

I turn on my heels to check his reaction. He stares from me to the box and frowns. "Is it what I think it is?" At my nod he shakes his head. "Albus, you know about the abuse of Non-Magical items..." he starts sternly but placing my finger on my lips I gesture for him to shut up and listen. With a sigh he obeys and as he hears the first lines of the song, his features soften and he returns my smile.

The song fades and the needle jumps, producing more rustling and cracking sounds and we still look at each other from a few steps distance. Carefully I lift the needle and guide it to its resting position. Finally he walks over to me and hugs me.

"Do you like it?" I ask anxiously.

"Of course I do, love," he replies and embraces me even tighter. "How could I not?" He softly sighs and takes a deep breath. "When you told me about the power of a falling star that night, Albus, I didn't really believe your words." He whispers, but this whisper sounds different from those so long ago. I can hear the power beneath, the strength and disciplined will. Something I couldn't with those faint, low whispers then.

"Severus," I start and gently free myself from his embrace. Reaching for his hands I guide them to my mouth and kiss them. "I did not believe it either, love. But sometimes good intentions are better than any old tale, my dear boy." He stares at me for a moment, puzzled and I wonder what he's going to do next. Suddenly his facial expression changes, and like the sun brightens a darkened sky, he bursts into laughter.

Eventually his laughter ebbs and he reaches his arms around me again. "All right, dear. So let me show you my good intentions now." And with a chuckle he adds, "Old man." His voice is dark and lusty, full of promises. He frees himself and his dark eyes glow with love and lust. I take his hand and let him lead me to my bedroom while my ears still echo with the lines of the refrain of the song we just heard.

"Catch a falling star and hold it in your pocket, never let it fade away. Catch a falling star and hold it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day..."

Title: Whispers
Author: Aello (12.09.2002)
Pairing: Severus Snape/Albus Dumbledore
Rating: Between R and NC-17 (see warning)
Warning: Implications of torture, rape and attempts of suicide! Descriptions of sexual interaction between men.
Summary: How a falling star changed everything between Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore - who both didn't believe in wishes you can make when you catch one...
A/N: Actually my favourite pairing is Remus/Severus, followed by Severus/Harry. But there are so many wonderful Severus Snape/Albus Dumbledore pieces that pass by almost unnoticed. This piece was inspired by Reggibar's "The Gift", its sequel "Grateful" (on ffnet) and "Forever" by Josan (on the Snape Fuh-Q-Fest). I found this piece yesterday when I cleared my desk and threw away some handwritten notes. I was a bit blue and figured out a new beginning - and ending. Please don't poke me with cushions for the fluffy ending. (And now for something completely different. - Tada! The Spanish Inquisition! (-;) I just couldn't resist after all I did to poor Severus...
Dedication: To JWG - I'll never say a bad word about your dealing with that Helena-piece again, man. And my eternal thankfulness goes out to GodlessHarlot – Thank you for beta-ing my "baby". You've made it even better!