Chapter Text
“Harry, dear boy, come in, come in,” the Headmaster beams at him, closing the door behind the First Year and ushering him in.
Harry Potter sits on a garish, orange and purple chair, eyeing Fawkes with an adoring gaze; said Phoenix croons and trills away calmly, staring at Harry with an emotion that Harry cannot decipher.
Dumbledore gives a small smile, noticing Harry’s gaze on his Phoenix. “Have you never seen a Phoenix before, Harry?” He chuckles, the faćade of a kind grandfather covering him. “They’re truly magnificent creatures, and the bond they share with their Master is a very sacred one, my dear boy.”
Harry’s green eyes— the colour of the the Killing Curse — turn to him, multiple questions brimming in his young mind. “What do you mean by bond, Headmaster? And is it true that their tears have healing properties?” He asks eagerly, the little Ravenclaw that he is.
“A bond is what happens when a magical creature chooses a witch or a wizard to share their powers with, Harry. And yes, it is true.” Dumbledore answers calmly, even though he’s seething on the inside. The boy had been left with his Muggle relatives, so how in Merlin’s bloody name did he hear about that tidbit about Phoenixes? It didn’t matter that the boy was a Ravenclaw, he wasn’t supposed to know about anything about any magical creature whatsoever.
Harry’s eyes grow wide with delight at the information, and he stares once more at Fawkes, a smile breaking out on his face as the bird flows over to his armchair, still trilling.
“Hi, there,” Harry coos happily, much to the Headmaster’s growing agitation, “My name’s Harry, Harry Potter—”
“Harry, my boy, as much as I hate to cut this off, we really do need to talk about what you did in Transfiguration today.” Dumbledore smoothly cut in, leveling a disappointed at the boy.
Harry flinches and a blush colors his cheeks, though he doesn’t apologize. “He had it coming, Professor,” He says, an angry frown on his face as he remembers his brother’s annoying remarks about Hermione. “He kept on insulting Hermione, even after I told him off twice!”
“Still, Harry, that doesn’t give you the right to throw a book at your twin brother,” Dumbledore chides him, twinkling all the while. “And as such, I’m afraid I’ll be taking fifteen points—”
A floating note suddenly pops into existence in front of the Headmaster, one that causes him to blink in annoyance and confusion. He stands up, taking the note, and tells Harry in a clipped tone that belies his benign image, “There is an issue that requires my attention, my boy; I shall return in a bit to finish our conversation.”
The second Dumbledore leaves, Fawked starts flapping his wings and immediately flows over to Dumbledore’s desk, clawing at a drawer desperately. The bird screeches and trilles angrily when Harry doesn’t immediately jump after him, causing the boy to jolt out of his shocked state and come to the Phoenix’s side.
“What is it, Fawkes?” He asks, a part of him still reeling at how easily the man ignored him in favor of his brother, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, but Fawkes only continues scratching at one of the drawers, trilling urgently.
Harry blinks, still confused, “Er. . . you want me to open it?” He then asks, and much to his shock the Phoenix actually nods, no longer screeching angrily.
“Alright,” Harry mumbles, but a tiny part in him is nervous about breaching the Headmaster’s privacy in such a manner. However, Fawkes wouldn’t do anything that could hurt his master, would he? No, he wouldn’t , Harry ultimately decides, opening the drawer.
Except it doesn’t open.
“Fawkes?” Harry wonders, turning to look at said magical creature. Much to his surprise Fawked is pulling a silver key out of the Sorting Hat, flying back to Harry with the key clutched in his beak.
Fawkes comes back to Harry and drops the key into his hands, nudging the boy. Harry silently complies with the bird’s wishes, tucking the key in and twisting. He cannot help but get confused at the happy trill the Phoenix lets out when they hear the click, but nevertheless he opens the drawer, only to find a small, crystal chest with strange symbols carved on it.
Fawkes doesn’t waste a moment and immediately throws the chest onto the ground with such a force that actually makes Harry’s jaw drop open. The chest crashes and breaks, bright shards of light covering every inch of the floor except where Harry is standing.
“Merlin!” Harry cries out in shock and fear as he sees that now, instead of there being shards, stands a tall, thin man, blood covering his body and his cloak torn in many places.
The man gasps and drops to his knees, coughing specks of blood and dirt. His eyes, the darkest obsidian Harry’s ever seen, swerve around the room, stopping once he catches sight of Harry and the now smug-looking Fawkes.
“What in the bloody hell?” The man eventually rasps out, another series of coughs wrecking through his body.
Harry rushes to the man’s side to help him, but the second he touches the man’s shoulder the door to the Headmaster's office slams open, Albus Dumbledore standing in all his glory, his angry glory, for the glare and snarl on his face is unlike anything Harry’s ever seen.
“How dare you release him!—” he snarls, his wand in his hand and pointing at them.
Harry doesn’t have much time to comprehend what happens next, but he does remember Fawkes screeching and flying to them, and then a flash and then nothing more, for the darkness takes him under its comfortable wing.
+++
It has been ten years since the last time he saw his husband. Ten. Bloody. Years.
Marvolo has no problem admitting to himself that going after the Potters that night was a decision brought on by anger and a thirst for revenge in his dead godson’s name— Bellatrix and Rodolphus’ child and heir. Only, for once the old fool managed to outdo himself and somehow trap him in the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow, after the Potters managed to Apparate with their twins.
His beloved husband had called him name upon name through their mindlink, angry and pissed that Marvolo did such a thing without consulting him first.
It all then unraveled from there with Dumbledore’s arrival, who had, on top of trapping him from going outside, had made it so that his precious Severus couldn’t get inside either.
Marvolo and Dumbledore had fought, Marvolo emerging a victor only for him to find out that all along he’d been the one vanquished, for while he and Albus were duelling his husband was busy fighting off Sirius Black, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody.
Severus no doubt is a powerful wizard all in how own, more than able to hold his own against the Dark Lord longer than many experienced Aurors, but still, the three aforementioned men were also quite strong, not to mention the strength in number.
Dumbledore had then left the house and onto the backyard through Apparition, the wards that he’d put around the house crashing with his departure. Marvolo had raced to his husband’s side, only to see Dumbledore yell a spell he had never heard before, one which resulted in his Severus being dragged down into a chest, his wand not in his hand.
Marvolo had been seething with anger but Dumbledore, apparently finished, had levitated the unconscious and nearly dead Black and Shacklebolt with him, while the heavily injured Moody had followed after them.
Marvolo had, of course, thrown dark curses at them, and he had managed to cut off Black’s left arm, burn half of Dumbledore’s beard and garish robes, and put another gash on Shacklebolt.
It still did not lessen the pain of losing Severus to the Light.
Marvolo shakes himself out of his depressing thoughts, stroking Nagini’s scales. “Oh, Severus, what I’d do just to have you here with me right now,” he sighs, once again nudging the blocked mindlink he shared with his precious Potions Master. Nagini hisses softly, comforting him as much as she can.
He expects nothing but to feel the block, except when he does nudge it he feels the faintest bit of sand on his hand, a change to the wall he’s felt the last ten years.
His breath catches in his throat, but before he can investigate further, hurried footsteps sound from outside his study, and it’s only seconds later that Bellatrix and Barty storm in, both looking delighted with their left forearms bared.
“My Lord!” They both cry out, uncaring of how loud they are.
Marvolo stands up, Nagini slithering behind him. “What is the meaning of this?” He snaps angrily and annoyedly, his mind still on the mindlink between him and his husband.
“My Lord, the Consort is back!” Bellatrix crows happily, her eyes bright as she Barty shove their forearms near his face.
Marvolo grasps Barty’s arm, and true to their words, on the skull of the Mark is the word Consort written in Parselscript, visible only to those in his Inner Circle.
The giddiness that overcomes him is enough to make him overlook their disrespect. And then a laugh, fond and yet cruel, comes from him.
Trust only Severus to free himself, regardless of whoever kept him captive.
The ancient wards of Slytherin Manor chime throughout the residence, announcing the arrival of someone through Apparition.
Marvolo does not wait, immediately striding towards where he just knows his husband will be. His two servants follow after him obediently, sharing victorious glances.
After all, their Lord’s Consort definitely had their respect and appreciation.
+++
“ My beloved Severus, ” The Dark Lord hisses softly to the trembling beauty in his arms, wordlessly and wandlessly healing the worst and most visible of Severus’ injuries. Severus, although couldn’t speak Parseltongue, understood the serpentine language through a ritual Marvolo did for him. “ You’ve finally returned to my arms. ”
“Husband,” Severus gasps out, kissing Marvolo with a hunger similar to that of a starving beast. “The boy— the boy and that blasted Phoenix freed me—” The boy and Fawkes, who also flashed with them, the former unconscious and the latter watching everything calmly.
“Hush, my love,” Marvolo kisses him back just as hungrily, uncaring for the Inner Circle kneeling around them that had all come to inform him of the change in their Marks. “First, let’s get you all patched up and then we’ll talk.”
Severus nods into his chest, letting the older man run his fingers through his hair even though it was dirty. In fact, his entire body was dirty still from that duel ten years ago, but it mattered very little in the face of finally being back in his husband’s arms.
“The infirmary better be ready!” Marvolo then snaps at his Inner Circle, prompting them into movement. After a moment’s consideration during which he picks up Severus into his arms, he says, “And there better not be a single scratch on that boy when they look him over in the infirmary.”
He doesn’t give his most trusted followers a glance as he leaves, too happy to have his beautiful, sly serpent back with him and away from Dumbledore.
Nagini slithers behind him, hitting anybody who doesn’t move fast enough with her tail while keeping a vigilant eye on the boy and the bird.