Catching Air in a Jar
by Point of Tears

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter Characters or Locations. No money is being made from the production of this work. All Quotes at the beginning of the chapters are by Albert Camus. (So there!)

Warnings: This fic will be slash. It may even be a little more graphic that my previous two (Gasps!). If two men falling in love offends your sensibility please heed this warning: SLASH! M/M!!

Also, this is an AU and possibly OOC fic. I tend to ignore HBP and DH when I write. It is not that I don't like the books, it's just that it makes the kind of stories that I write so much easier. I like Dumbledore and I like Snape. What can I say? If AU stories annoy you then you should also turn back now. I follow cannon till OOTP, then my own version of reality kicks in.

Other than that this fic is rated because of naughty language.

A/N: I am going to make the same statement I did at the beginning of my first story: I bet you have read this plot before. It is probably the most cliché story ever. I will try to give it my own twist but I make no guarantees. I believe there are no really truly original ideas. There are just so many of them. So if this story sounds like one you have already read or one you have written I promise I did not copy. I am just not very uniquely imaginative.

Enjoy!

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Prologue

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Don't wait for the last judgment – it takes place every day.

He had made a promise.

A fierce sense of right and wrong, loyalty, and a culmination of all the experiences that he had amassed in his young life had taught Harry Potter many things; one of which being that one should keep their promises.

Five years ago—on his eighteenth birthday no less—Harry made a promise to himself as he looked on at his friends, family, and fellow soldiers held up in the Shrieking Shack. It was very late…or early, he didn't know which. Harry had volunteered to be a part of the first group to stand watch. Not that it really mattered. He would probably be up all night anyway. Sleep was not his friend nowadays. He sighed quietly and ran his hand over his disobedient black hair. A gesture he didn't even know he did anymore.

He couldn't blame it on Voldemort, at least not directly. After a battle of wills…and even one incident of a battle of fists, Snape had managed to teach him occlumacy. No…now it was just his messed up subconscious and nightmares. Images of previous battles and the faces of those lost would constantly play trough his mind like an old movie. So he traded the vicious images that invaded his slumber for Hermione's nagging about circles under his eyes and Mrs. Weasley trying to over feed him. Lesser of two evils really. At least he hoped.

He was stirred from his musings by a noise to his right. It wasn't a new noise, but it none the less garnered his attention

Ron would occasionally mutter a curse and rise up to beat on his pillow mercilessly. His and Harry's eyes met and the red head grumbled about the pillow being lumpy. Harry simply nodded. He knew that really his friend was nervous. They all were. A battle was about to begin. At the time they did not know that it would be the final battle, but merely another in the long series of altercations between the side of light and the forces of Voldemort. As his friend lay back down again to try and rest the ebony haired wizard who was celebrating his entrance into adulthood in a dilapidated house with dirt on his face felt the need to protect them—all of them—swell in his chest till he thought he would burst. They had all stayed behind him. All risked their lives because of him. Some had died because of him…

Sirius.

Moody.

…Hagrid.

Harry felt his eyes beginning to burn and blinked fiercely. He looked around again at his friends that were fighting an entire war on the belief that he was the chosen one and would save them all from this evil presence. He couldn't stand to see anymore death. The thought of loosing anyone else made his stomach turn.

That was when he made the promise.

'If we live through this, I will live my life for them.'

It was the kind of promise that one makes when they are trying to make a bargain with fate. The type of promise that is so grandiose and at such a high standard that keeping it is near impossible, but in moments of great passion when all one wants is for things to finally turn out okay, such promises are made. Rarely do things work out completely in ones favor and even more rarely is one able to keep up tier end of the agreement.

But when the hexes stopped flying and the smoke cleared the next day to reveal Harry swaying slightly, but still on his feet above the corpse of the self proclaimed Dark Lord it seemed that fate had taken him up on the pact. Voldemort had gone out like any stereotypical evil villain, baddy man; by spouting pros to his greatness and taunting his opponent's vulnerabilities. By underestimating his bespectacled young adversary. The two had fought for hours and both were sporting several injuries from the hexes and curses flying about. Harry just stayed focused and remembered all the training he had received over the past three years from all of his mentors. Plus, his enemy's voice was getting really irritating, which lent itself to the young warrior's conviction to find a way to finally shut the megalomaniac up.

The sheer force of the magic that had welled up inside of him as he finally defeated the snake eyed bastard left him drained and lightheaded, however he forced himself to stay conscious to see….

'There they are…'

He saw red, brown, silver and black coming through the haze. Running towards him was Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape, and even though his vision was failing him he could see even more behind them. Several with that unmistakable red hair. He had no idea of the toll the battle had wrought, but seeing the few faces he did see assured him that at least those he cared about most were still alive.

"They're okay" Harry whispered as his legs began to give out.

If we live through this, I will live my life for them.

He sent out a silent prayer to whoever would listen that we would be able to keep that promise. Please, let him keep that promise. He never hit the ground as strong arms embraced him and began to help carry him off the field as he finally succumbed and passed out from exhaustion, pain and fatigue.

In the busy days that followed after the war, followed by the busy weeks, then busy months, the pledge he had made had been forgotten in the sea of life that swirled and crashed around him. Finally, after all of the wounds were healed, the funerals had, grieving done, and ministry hoopla thankfully over, were the 'heroes of the wizarding world' allowed to do what they had been fighting for all this time; they were allowed to try and lead a normal life.

Harry may not have remembered his vow, but five years later he had stayed true to his word as best, or better than wizardly possible without even knowing it.

Until fate decided differently.

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