Lily's Charm- Severitus fanfiction

Her Charm

In the span between before and after…

Cold. It had all gone cold. Waves and waves of chilling tremors throbbed through the darkness as existence was sucked away, drawn from the realm of coherance.

Screams rent the winds. Rage filled the clouds. Warmth attempted to flicker.

And ice overtook the void.

Harry.

Harry recoiled from the word. It wanted him. Craved him. The cold beckoned him; the flames were beginning to freeze. And Harry couldn’t right himself.

He was everything.

Nothing.

They were one.

The storm had no substance and the flames were dying.

The ice—the ice was laughing all around them. They were his.

The storm needed to rip itself away. Harry had to find his father. His dad. The word steadied him, allowed him to exist again.

He could feel the outlines of substance. The dark fading into light.

A faint glow. Familiar. Against the rush of frost, Harry pushed toward it.

Tiny flames, almost hidden in the winter.

There was a vague impression of ice, sharp and cold. It was biting them…looming over them, shadowing everything else. The flames weren’t warm enough to melt the glacier. The flames were shallow. Too much had been left behind. The fire was too low, as if it was about to be hissed into ashes and then Harry was the storm again, hovering, floundering amidst a sea of glaring white.

Severus could feel nothing but cold. A frigid blanket trying to beat out his flames. Why was he so cold? He couldn’t feel his own warmth in his flames. Harry—where are you? the flames called out of the freeze. The flames shivered.

Flames aren’t supposed to freeze…

Dad? There was a whispered breath beside him, waiting. A gathering storm, building fast to guard him.

Harry, the flames pressed and Harry felt relief. This was the voice he had needed to hear. But still, everything was too cold. He longed to chafe the limbs that were only echoes now.

It was quiet—too quiet here in the graying dusk. The dusk was turning to night as the cold penetrated father and son. But it only wanted one of them.

I always suspected you were weak, the cold jeered into the vacuum and the storm shivered against the returning cold.

Bring your storm closer, Severus directed immediately as the ice loomed closer, barely a whisper; too much had been left. Harry, understanding the frantic need, drew his storm to surround the tiny flames without hesitation. To bring his father closer to death.

The storm intensified, growing dark and restless, drawing itself in close around the flame. It’s too cold, the storm shuddered.

You can do this, Harry, what was left of the fire told him and the encouragement was enough. The storm began to blacken in furious determination as the cold bit relentlessly behind them.