Fic: Reflections Upon a Fire

[starduchess]

Title: Reflections Upon a Fire
Gift To: vaysh
Author: starduchess
Pairing/Threesome: Harry/Severus/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~2090
Warnings: brief mention of canon death and canon abuse
Story notes: prose and poetry intermixed; post-war dealings with trauma; established relationship
Summary: It is ritual to celebrate life in song and dance and feast and fire. Not all of it is happy, but all of it is worth living. Reflections Upon a Fire for Harry (positive), Severus (neutral), and Draco (negative).
Betaed by: By the lovely isisanubis.
Author's Note: Written for hds_beltane Exchange Fest 2015. I wanted to give her something unique for the final round of the fest, so I wrote sonnets. Enjoy!




It is ritual, passed down through the ages, for witches and wizards to celebrate life in song and dance and feast and fire. There is a need that burns within them to reconnect to each other and to magic itself, a renewal that needs to happen, a reconciliation before the future. A chance to tell their stories to friend and foe alike and have them be accepted. Not all of it is happy, but all of it is worth living.


To all his days did seem eternity
And blended, time forgot, to one another;
Kept in cold and darkness, laid asunder
From those he wouldst have called his family,
And worked just like a house-elf there was he,
Never doing fun things all together;
Left behind amidst the stormy weather,
Cast adrift upon a lonely sea.
Yet hope was never far from boyish breast.
Indeed, fair Fate had granted him a home,
A grand escape within the Hogwarts fest;
And warmth of friendship bloomed within his chest
That no war nor evil then could overcome;
For magic real was fire upon his crest.



“Harry! You planning on coming to the Beltane fires this year? Luna’s hosting upward of fifty people at her place, some of them Slytherins like Zabini and Nott.” Ron, coming off of duty at the end of a busy day, had caught Harry before he left for home and looked at him with a hopeful gaze.

Harry turned to his friend, smiled at him with warmth, but shrugged in a non-committal way. “I don’t know, Ron. I’d love to experience it, as you know I’ve never been, but I’ll have to check with my housemates first. They can be a bit …”

“Disagreeable,” Ron supplied, trying to be both helpful and tactful.

“... stern when it comes to Wizarding traditions.”

Ron lifted one shoulder and dropped it back down. “I don’t know what to say, mate. I still don’t understand why you shacked up with those two in the first place or how you’ve managed to stay alive and sane since.”

Harry looked away, thoughtful, a little sad but also a little bit content. “I’ve tried telling you, but it’s complicated. They need me and I need them. We were all so broken after the war, and it’s hard to say what really happened between us to get us here.”

“Don’t I know it. Well, tell me when you’ve figured it out, yeah?”

Harry smiled back at Ron. “Yeah, okay.”

He left the office and stepped through the floo to home. Not sensing anyone else around, he poured himself a Firewhiskey and sat on his couch, staring at the roaring fire and contemplating the place his life had come to, both the good parts and the bad.



Concealed in darkness, lost among the pain
Of fists and verbal taunts a father gave to she
Who was his mother, kept in Cokeworthie
Amongst the Muggles down a spinner’s lane.
Their house felt barren, cold within the rain,
But not without the fire of passion be
Now felt burning, consuming, openly--
A tempest scorching with intent to slain.
But fire, too, was freedom from the fight,
Glowing steady under cauldrons packed
With potions calmly stirred; a fairer sight
Can none behold, except of course the light
That reached out from his wand; this solemn act
Contained the promise of all of magic’s might.



“Severus, hey. How did your brewing go today?” Harry asked as Snape came up from his potions lab.

“Productive. Yours?” He moved to pour himself a drink and then sat in the upholstered chair closest to Harry. He’d already removed his outer robes, which usually reeked of fumes and therefore was left downstairs, and was dressed in casual shirt and slacks.

Harry, by contrast, was still wearing his Ministry outfit, which looked stiff but he claimed was comfortable. “It was good. I ran into Ron at the end of the day, and he asked if I was coming to Beltane at Luna’s.” He took a sip of his drink and looked surreptitiously at Snape for his reaction.

“And what was your response?” Snape gave nothing away concerning his own emotions or opinion on the matter.

Harry shifted and then looked squarely at him. “That I’d like to go, but I’d have to talk with you first. Do you think you’d like to attend?”

“It matters not to me either way. If you wish to go, then we go. If you don’t, then we don’t. Although there is another party in this decision.” He paused and waited for Harry to continue the discussion. When he did not, Snape’s eyes turned hard and cold. He sneered at him and said, “Or are you too afraid to confront him with it?”

Harry bristled at the low jibe. “He hasn’t been home yet, you prat. I wanted to gauge your interest before I spent hours convincing him to come out of his shell and go with us.” His tumbler clinked as he set it down on the table with more force than necessary. “It’s so frustrating dealing with the pair of you, sometimes.”

“Likewise how we feel about you. Yet we all agreed that this relationship was mutually beneficial.”

Harry snorted. He knew how true that was, how much stability they gave him, and he them, despite the fights they’d had in the beginning. Saying it had been a rocky start would have been putting it mildly, but it was important for them to work out all their differences after everything that had happened during their school years and the war.

They weren’t completely healed yet, but Snape and Harry were getting along better these days. It was their absent third that worried them. He was still prone to fits of scorn and snobbish attitudes, and when he left off those, he tended to sulk in silence. It was hard for them to pry him out of the house for social visits, but they knew that it was necessary. They hoped this would be one time they would succeed.



Impassive, it was, they taught him how to live
Within the lighted fires that warmed his home;
To always stand amongst his peers alone
And shed his feelings--surely not to give
Them reign, but locked inside the mind--his pensive
Thoughts to filter, shift into the dome
His hopes and happiness, never to loan
Their heated comfort whilst he be impressive.
But lost his nerve; the war did press on there,
His lovely home, filled with horrors, cries and screams
That followed him to school upon the air.
He struggled to maintain a calm, cool fair,
But burning flesh of friend--so real, not dreams--
Was seen in trinkets, lost within the lair.



“Draco, it’s good to see you home and looking hearty after a long day out.” Snape greeted, as Draco stepped out of the floo.

“Those prats in Devonshire aren’t helping. I should hex their collective arses into next week, after the negotiations are finished.” He nodded his approval and thanks to the Firewhiskey Snape held out to him. “You look fine. What about our precious Potter?” The long day at work had reverted him back to his scornful self, it would seem.

Snape gave him a quick ‘behave’ look of admonition. “He’s fine, busy making dinner, though he has a bit of a question for us.”

Snorting, Draco said, “Not another S.P.E.W. meeting, I hope. Granger’s barking if she thinks she’s going to get anywhere with that.” He took a sip of his drink, closed his eyes to savour the taste, and relaxed as he swallowed. The burn chased away his tension and, Snape hoped, his contemptuous attitude.

“No, nothing so inane. But a topic to be broached upon a full stomach.”

Draco nodded, accepting that he wouldn’t get an answer right away. That much had changed, at least; he wasn’t as pushy as he had once been.

After the meal, they all sat down in the living room, cuddling on the sofa with more drinks in hand. Their stomachs were pleasantly full and the peaceful atmosphere was relaxing, even in the face of this upcoming discussion.

Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, calming his own nerves. “Alright, Potter, spill it. What’s this question Severus mentioned?”

Harry’s features changed to be a bit self-conscious. “Well, I know how you feel about things.”

“Things?”

“Yes, things, as in seeing people, and I think this is a good chance to get out. Break out of your shell, so to speak.”

Snape growled in exasperation. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter, cease beating around the proverbial Whomping Willow. Just state the invitation.” He took a large gulp of his drink to keep from thumping Potter in the back of the head.

“What invitation?” Draco asked with suspicion, a growing dread already in his system at the mention of going out somewhere.

Harry bit his bottom lip. “The Beltane fires at Luna’s.” He could feel Draco stiffen beside him.

“You know how I feel about fire,” he said in a quiet voice.

Harry put his arms around him and touched their foreheads together. “I know, and you don’t have to get up close and jump over them like tradition says, but I think you should come out and mingle.”

“I mingle plenty at the Ministry.”

“That’s networking, not socialising. And before you start, that’s the same thing with your business partners. No, you need to see your old friends, even make some new ones. Blaise and Pansy and Tracye and Theo will be there. Come on; it’ll be fun.”

“Your idea of fun is dealing with pesky Weasleys.” Although this was said with none of the previous years’ malice, there was still a hint of irritation in his voice.

Before Harry could reply to that, Snape did it for him. “Though your assessment is correct, the addition of other Slytherins will help to mitigate their effect. It is also our opinion that this would be best for your continued psychological development.”

“Are you saying I’m a coward if I don’t go?” Draco said this with deadly seriousness, a coldness slowly growing in his eyes.

“No, not at all,” Harry said, placating, trying to head this off before Draco started flashing hexes at them. “You’re free to say no and we won’t go and we won’t think anything less of you, but we want to go and we want you to go. Please.” He gave Draco his best puppy dog eyes, hoping to undermine the negative resistance with some emotional manipulation.

Draco resisted and then broke, rolling his eyes. “You’re a true Gryffindor, you know that, Potter?”

Harry grinned in triumph. “Absolutely. And I’ll give you an extra reward if you agree to come with us.”

Draco got a glint in his eyes. “I’d rather come on you.”

Snape snorted. “That can be arranged. So, yay or nay?”

Draco gave them each a long look, knowing they could both be patient and stubborn, a trying combination. He then focused in on himself for a moment, debating. Perhaps it was time to start living again; he really had closed himself off for far too long. “Yes,” he said, “but I’m not going near those fires. It’ll be enjoyment enough to watch all of you naked wizards and witches getting your arses burnt.”

“What!” shouted Harry. “Nobody said anything about being naked.” He turned a questioning gaze at Snape, who leered at him.

“It’s traditional attire, Harry,” he purred. “Part of the ritual. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Draco after all this effort put forth to gain his acceptance, now would you?” His eyes glittered with mischief.

Harry moaned. “I’ve been played, haven’t I?”

Both of his lovers leant into him and whispered in his ears. “All in good time, Harry. All in good time.”



All struggles--oh the pains they had to bear
Through childhood and adolescent time
And even wence into the adult clime--
Did they bring forth in memory to share
And challenge each other; for within a dare
They meant to spread about the grime
Of lies and hate and treachery sublime;
And, thus, before the fires they did swear.
Yet, raucous voicing of this discontent
Did pave the way for truths to finally light.
Within the house of Black it was, they spent
Their days adjusting to new lives; to rent
The old ways from their consciousness and sight;
To show in love and comfort their ascent.



The end.

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