I love Stephen´s voice, especially the audio books of Harry Potter he did: they are are magic! I wrote a piece of Potter fan fiction, hope you like it. Be warned: Harry and Snape have a different relationship in my story than in the original books ; ) I just imagine how it would sound when Stephen would read it….
All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is purely a hobby.
The Last Potion
They said time would heal, his grief would wear off. But it didn’t. As the seasons passed, Harry felt increasingly desperate. When snow fell, he would sit in the cold, without a Warming Spell and wouldn’t even notice it. In spring everyone had new hopes, but to Harry it was just a reminder of the complete uselessness of his existence.
It was only when he walked in the woods, that he felt a bit better. When he walked in the forest, he always felt that Severus was watching him, silently standing amongst the trees. Severus’s eyes following him when he jumped over a stream, smiling at him when he lay down in the grass. But he also knew it was an illusion. Severus was gone. It was three years since Voldemort had been defeated and Severus had died.
Harry’s desperate mind was filled with Severus’s voice, his stubborn character, the texture of his pale skin, his smell. And his brain made the wind feel like Severus’s kiss, the sun like the heat of his skin, the smell of crushed pine needles between his fingers like Severus’s smell. His former potions master and lover was omnipresent, he breathed Severus in like air. But he also knew it was just his mind trying to comfort his senses. Severus was no longer there. Never again. And Harry would stay as miserable as he was now until his dying day. How he wished that day would come soon!
At first he didn’t realise it: that his physical desires slowly mingled with a strong and passionate longing for death. Often, he lay on the forest soil, caressing himself, remembering the touch of Severus’s hand, seeing his master standing by the trees, watching him, as if he silently called out to Harry. He used to imagine that Severus would come close to him, kneel beside him and make love to him. But lately his lover stayed at a distance, looking at him, silently and expectantly, as if he wanted to say: ‘Come with me, come into my world. In death we will be reunited.’
The day Harry went to Severus’s study, he knew he was making a mistake. Like knowing that invoking the powers of darkness was like looking for trouble.
As Harry himself was now a teacher at Hogwarts, he pleaded with Dumbledore to leave Snape’s room as it was, so he could sit there and study all the books and notes that the potion master had left to the world of magic. But he could never bring himself to actually do it, the grief still being too deep. So, Snape’s room just gathered dust and stayed desolate.
Until now. He opened the door and the sight of the room, where he used to go to so often to see Severus, just knocked him for six. It was as if Severus had left the room just a few minutes before and could walk in at any time. Harry wept and tenderly touched Severus’s chair. How often had he observed his potions master, when he corrected the work of his students till late at night, his eyes fixed on the papers, a slight frown on his forehead, very dedicated. Not at all like the rather arrogant and rigid man most people knew.
Harry sat down and opened the books on the desk. He didn’t read, he just wanted to enjoy the idea of opening and browsing through the books that Severus touched the day before he died. His fingers slid down the written text, where Severus had written notes in the margin. When he opened one of the drawers, he saw an envelope. And on it, in Severus’s vibrant handwriting that Harry knew so well: ´Harry´. Just the one word. And it made Harry shiver. Like Severus spoke to him from the hereafter. His hands trembled as he opened the envelope. He unfolded the only page that it contained and saw to his surprise that it was a recipe for a potion. No explanation, no instruction.
Harry just sat there, staring at the recipe, one hour, maybe two. He knew few of the ingredients that were mentioned, but he recognized digitalis, which was a poison when used in large quantities. Why would Severus leave him this recipe? Perhaps to end his misery in a mild way. It might do a little bit more than just kill him. Or it might not kill him at all.
He smiled when he remembered the very first lesson by his former potions master and how Severus warned him to pay more attention. He did not realize that Harry carefully wrote down every word: ´I can tell you how to bottle fame, how to brew glory and even to put a stop to death.´
When the sun went down, he took a decision and slowly started to make the potion that Severus had offered him. He found all the things he needed in the potions cabinet and finally took the potion in a bottle with him, when he walked into the night. In the moonlight he walked to the forest, to his favourite tree and sat on its roots. He did not feel Severus’s presence, his imagination did not bring him to life and Harry hesitated for a moment. At that moment, the moon disappeared behind a cloud and Harry was overcome with an unspeakable loneliness. He pulled the stopper off the bottle and drank the lot. He then lay down and waited.
He was startled when he heard his name, softly at first, then a bit louder: ´Harry.´ He looked up and saw Severus standing next to him. It was neither an illusion, nor his imagination.
´Severus,´ Harry whispered, his voice husky. He couldn’t speak anymore and flung himself into the arms of this man, this ghost, whatever it was that looked so real. And it felt real, too. They kissed and caressed each other and neither of them spoke. Then Severus said: ´Come, we don’t have much time. The potion only works until dawn. Come with me, dear boy.´
And Harry went with him, not caring if this was real and he would live, or if it was Death in the disguise of Severus, granting him one last moment with the man he loved.