Chapter Text
Harry was numb. He had been for weeks. Sirius was dead. Sirius was dead and it was all his fault. No, not all his fault. Not all his fault at all. Dumbledore had his fair share of blame in what had happened. Why had he kept him in the dark for so long? Why hadn’t the man trusted him? But he hadn’t bothered, too busy with his own machinations to care. Sirius didn’t matter to Dumbledore. He was the only thing that mattered.
Harry Potter.
His perfect pawn.
But perhaps not his only one. He had not missed the way Dumbledore ordered Snape about, commanding him to risk his life again and again without pause. No, he was not the only pawn being moved about the old wizard’s chessboard and he was tired of being used. He had to wonder if, perhaps, Snape was getting tired of it as well.
Knowing it was foolhardy but needing to talk to someone that would not jump to the wizard’s defense, he headed down to the dungeon. There was a pretty good chance Snape would toss him out on his ear, but he was willing to risk it.
As he rounded the corner to Snape’s rooms, Harry stopped and frowned. Something appeared to be piled in a heap in front of the door. A moment later, Harry realized that it wasn’t something but rather someone and rushed toward them. Skidding to a stop beside the huddled form, Harry gasped when he realized it was Snape. He was unconscious and still wearing his Death Eater robes. This was not good. If anyone saw him like this…
“Professor Snape? Sir?” Harry called softly, trying to rouse the man. He doubted if the wards would let him into the rooms even carrying Snape. He would have to get him to come around enough to let them in or he would have to take him to Madam Pomfrey, something he didn’t want to risk.
Harry looked up and down the corridor, making sure no one else was around before drawing his wand and casting a light enervate spell. He kept a careful hold on Snape’s wand arm when he felt him start to come around, not wanting to be on the wrong end of a hex by mistake. He couldn’t help but tighten his arms when he heard the man groan in pain. Harry had never heard such a sound from the stoic Potions Master before and it both unnerved and angered him. For all that Snape had done for them, for all the risks he took, that Dumbledore would leave him collapsed on the floor was unforgiveable.
“Come on, Sir,” Harry coaxed in the same soft voice. “I need you to let us through your wards.”
“Po-Potter,” Snape stammered as he eyes fluttered open to see a pair of worried green ones looking down at him.
“Yes, Sir,” Harry said. Satisfied that Snape knew who he was at least, he let go of the man’s arm and tried to help him sit up. “I found you… You were passed out.”
“Yes,” Snape said as the events of the night came roaring back to him. He could still feel the lingering pain of the Cruciatus Curse that the Dark Lord had subjected him to. It sizzled along his veins making his muscles cramp agonizingly.
“What… what are you doing down here?” Snape asked. He tried to push himself up and away from Potter but his limbs refused to obey him.
“I came to talk to you,” Harry said. “Do you think you can stand if I help you?”
“I do not need your help,” Snape said out of reflex.
“I beg your pardon, Sir, but I really think you do,” Harry replied carefully. “At least let me help you inside. I’ll leave then if that’s what you want.”
“Fine,” Snape sighed. “Since I seem to have little choice in the matter.”
“You always have a choice, Sir,” Harry said his voice hardening. He was sick and tired of his choices being taken from him and he refused to do that to Snape. If the man truly did not want his help then he wouldn’t force it on him.
“Such a Gryffindor,” Snape replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Very well. Help me inside. The wards will let us pass now that I am conscious again.”
It took a few minutes and no small amount of strength on Harry’s part to get Snape to his feet. He thought about simply levitating the man but again did not want him to feel as if he was being manipulated. Once they were inside, the door firmly warded behind them, Harry helped him to the sofa and gently lowered him down.
“What do you need?” Harry asked, his concern evident.
Snape had closed his eyes in relief as soon as he’d been lowered onto the sofa but they sprang open at Potter’s words. “Your services are no longer required, Mr. Potter,” he said though his usual rancor was nowhere to be heard. “I shall be fine.”
“Right,” Harry snorted. “And Dumbledore’s just a kindly old wizard.”
Snape quirked an eyebrow at the boy’s remark and studied him. There was something different about Potter. Something… harder. Had the boy actually figured out that the great Albus Dumbledore was not so benevolent a master as he tried to appear? Had he figured out that he was little more than a means to an end for the old man?
“What?” Harry asked when Snape continued to stare at him. “Did you think I would never figure out that he’s just using me? Using us both? I know I’m not the brightest but…”
“There is nothing wrong with your mental faculties, Mr. Potter,” Snape put in before he could stop himself. “And you are right. We are little more than cogs in a machine to Dumbledore. Cogs that can be chewed up and spit out when they become no longer useful.”
“Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend to be cast off like garbage,” Harry said.
“Neither do I, yet I am unsure what can be done to stop it.”
“Maybe a new alliance needs to be forged,” Harry suggested. He ran his hand through his hair nervously. He knew what he was saying and just who he was saying it to. This was dangerous to the point of foolhardiness yet it could not feel more right.
“Really?” Snape all but purred. “And to who would this new alliance pledge their allegiance may I ask?”
“To me,” Harry said boldly.
“You mean to set yourself up as a new Lord?” Snape’s voice was incredulous. Never would he have thought this of the boy.
“No,” Harry said quickly. “We have enough people running around playing at being a Lord as it is. We don’t need another one. I have no intention of ruling over anyone.”
“Then what would be the point?”
“Peace,” Harry said. “But not just for Dumbledore’s chosen few. Peace, and freedom, for everyone.”
“A novel concept,” Snape admitted, impressed. He tried to sit up a bit straighter and couldn’t help but groan.
“Snape?” Harry called out, taking a half step toward the man.
“Make yourself useful, boy, and fetch me a pain potion,” Snape said tersely.
“Accio pain potion,” Harry said at once grabbing the vial out of the air as it flew toward him. A moment later he was sitting next to Snape on the sofa and helping the man to drink it. He waited until the pinched lines around his eyes had eased before speaking again. “Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need a healing draught?”
“No,” Snape said, waiving him off. “It is merely the lingering effects of one too many Cruciatus curses. I should be fine in a few hours.”
“How many times did he…?”
“Four,” Snape replied, unsure why he was telling the boy all of this.
“I should help you to bed,” Harry said then blushed hotly when he realized how that sounded.
Snape couldn’t hold in a chuckle when Potter blushed bright red at his unintentional innuendo. “Is that an offer, Mr. Potter?” he asked, unable to help himself.
Harry blushed even brighter then grinned. “Only to tuck you in, Sir,” he replied cockily.
“And here I was thinking my evening might actually be looking up,” Snape mused. “Shame that.”
“As if,” Harry snorted.
“Insults now?” Snape bristled. Not that he could blame the boy. He was nobody’s idea of a catch after all.
“Hardly,” Harry replied. “I meant as if you’d ever be interested in me, you know… like that.”
Snape gaped at him, shocked. The Gryffindor Golden Boy actually thought someone would turn him from their bed? Was he mad? Then again, Snape realized, he was young and surrounded himself constantly with the likes of Weasley and Granger. Perhaps he was as unaware of his… charms… as he seemed to be.
“I doubt anyone would turn you from their bed, Harry,” he said, slipping and using Potter’s first name.
“You’re not just anyone, Sir,” Harry replied. “Besides, you’ve had a rough night and you’re still hurting. I would be a complete berk to take advantage of the situation.”
“A Slytherin would.”
“Lucky for you I’m a Gryffindor.”