Into That Good Night

by hinkypunx

Summary:

The summer after the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry Potter is dealing with depression and suicidal tendencies, the Order of the Phoenix is watching him like a hawk.

Then one day, his house blows up and the Dursleys are killed because Dudley Dursley was an Obscurial. Now Severus Snape is tasked with caring for an unstable Harry Potter.

Harry’s fifth year is full of making unexpected friends and allies, and even more unexpected enemies. This is a story of loss, and of healing. Battles lost, but wars won. This is a story about love prevailing.

Chapter 1: Diddykins

(Dudley)

 

Not again. Please, not again…

It was just past midnight. The summer air was prickly hot and thick, a blanket of superfine mist clung onto everything. It was quiet on Privet Drive, as per usual this time of night, but from inside the house a faint vibration could be heard ruminating through the halls and floors.

Vernon and Petunia were fast asleep, of course. They faithfully turned in every night by 9. With all of the undue stress that’s built up over the last 5 years since being unwillingly thrust into the wizarding world, the couple tried to stick to a routine, stick to normalcy. Vernon would dutifully go to work every day, Petunia would meticulously keep house. They stuck to their roles, kept themselves busy, and kept their noses clean of any and all funny business.

The Dursley’s hated magic. More so than hated it, they deeply feared it. Vernon had tried to fix his abomination of a nephew, that is, Harry Potter. Tried to beat the poison out of him, tried to shape him up into a fine young man right alongside his own son. But it was all to no avail. Magic was a freakish evil that ran bone deep.

There was once a time, believe it or not, when Vernon and Petunia did care for the boy. At least marginally. Until Harry’s fourth or fifth birthday, they raised the boy as if he were their own. But when things started happening around young Harry that couldn’t be explained away naturally, Petunia recognized all too well the dark forces that were happening. She went through this same shite with her sister Lily growing up, and she would have none of it.

At first it was little things. His hair would regrow overnight even after shaving it down to the scalp. He would find himself stuck on the roof after trying to escape being chased by Dudley. He would burn his hands serving breakfast and the blisters would fade away into fresh new pink skin almost instantly. Everything may seem harmless at first, self preservation almost. But Petunia knew worse would be coming. The power possessed by the small boy frightened them and made them feel helpless in their own home! And Vernon would have none of that.

Locking him away in the cupboard under the stairs was for everyone’s safety. Even his own, though the bloody bastard would never recognize the great lengths they had always went to for him. Did they not keep a roof over his head? Did they not feed him, at least a bit of bread, almost every day? But it had always been a thankless job. And now all of their lives were at stake. One temper tantrum, Petunia had explained so cautiously to her husband, could level the entire house. Their home. Vernon worked hard for the things he had. He wasn’t coddled growing up, nothing came too easily, and he’d be damned if all his hard work crumpled to nothing because of the scrawny little freak.

One thing led to another, and things may have sometimes gotten carried away. There was nothing Vernon wouldn’t do to keep his wife and his son safe. If it meant whipping the boy senseless every day, he would do so happily but it hardly ever really came to that. Mostly they ignored him. If he would just stay out of their sight, stay out of their range of hearing, there would likely never be a problem at all. But the boy insisted on causing trouble. Crying into the night and waking them. Sneaking out to steal food, food that Vernon busted his backside daily to provide for his family, stolen right out of their mouths by the little rat.

For the most part, however, everything was under control until right around Harry’s eleventh birthday when the dreaded letters arrived. He had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, much to the dismay of the Dursleys. There was no helping the boy now. Petunia remembered when her own sister Lily received her letter. Everything changed after that. Their parents would dote endlessly on their beloved little witch. Nobody seemed to see what Petunia saw, and that was a deeply, horrifically dangerous person- with access to devilish powers beyond human imagination.

And now the threat was alive once again. Not only to her, but also her child this time. Vernon became even more strict with the freak. It’s one thing to be a petulant child with sparks of magic that they couldn’t control or understand. But Vernon wasn’t naive or stupid. He knew that the wretched school was filling the boys head to the brim with all sorts of black magic he could use against them. The only solace was knowing the wretched school would expel Harry for doing magic during the summers. It of course wasn’t a fail-safe protection from the boy but a small comfort none the less. Physically speaking Vernon had no problem overpowering the boy.

Harry was very thin, on the shorter side, giving off the appearance of being a couple years younger even than 15. Vernon was a large, tall, heavy set man with oversized meaty hands. There’ve been plenty of times where Vernon had had to demonstrate just how much of a difference of power he had over the boy throughout the years.

This summer had been one of the most difficult summers dealing with the freak yet. Every night screams coming from his room. Watching his smug sullen face stare off into nothingness. Watching him laze about, most of the time not even bothering to leave his bed. Disgusting and pathetic. And what effect would his behavior have on Dudley?

Dudley had been acting rather strange as of late. It must have been all the stress building up finally into a break down. The wizardry and foolishness was a lot for him too. He’d been most victimized of all the Dursleys by the black magic when that bloody beast of a man, Hagrid, cursed him with a pig's tail that had needed to be removed surgically.

Though the incident was 4 years ago now, Dudley had never fully recovered. Once proud and confident, slowly but surely Dudley had began retreating into himself. Hardly noticed by his parents, the Dursley’s had always been about keeping up the show. As long as everything looked prim and proper, swirling storms amassing on the inside took little residence in any of their priorities.

But unbeknownst to anyone in number 4 Privet Drive, a storm was exactly what was stirring in the mind of young Dudley. You see Dudley had a secret. It was nothing really, nothing that couldn’t be ignored. Nothing that he would ever say aloud. But as the years had gone by this little secret had been growing harder to stifle down. And now things were finally about to come to a head.

Dudley couldn’t tell you the first time he realized that he could do magic too. He would obviously never say anything! Look how everyone treated Harry. He refused to be lumped in with the same lot as that freak. Dudley hated magic just as much as his parents did. He loathed the feeling of it. The vibrations of power that would emanate from his body when he tried to push it away. A deep ache in his belly and chest that seemed to swell with something uncontainable begging to escape, until he could swallow it back down.

At first it was little things. A dropped toothbrush floating back up into his open hand. A noticeable zap of lightning once when he punched a wall. The bath water starting a rolling boil when he stared himself down in the mirror. Now however, it was becoming more pronounced much to his dismay. The magic seemed to hum around him in a cloud of static. The walls and floors seemed to vibrate with the instability and power of his suppressed abilities.

The thing about magic that people sometimes don’t seem to understand, is that it runs bone deep.

It cannot be ignored. It cannot be stifled. It simply, is. And all powerful, at that.

Dudley woke with a start. The hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up. The deep familiar ache in his chest throbbed painfully, worse than it ever had before. He looked wildly around him. Along with the pain emanating from just below his sternum, his mind was absolutely flooded with anxiety. A sense of dread and sheer panic was rising inside him, seemingly without reason.

What the hell is happening? He thought to himself as he cradled his chest in both hands. It’s like he could feel his heart spasming violently inside him under his palms. He popped the buttons of his silk pajama shirt open with trembling hands and looked down in horror to see his skin actually rippling inhumanly.

This is it, he thought. It’s finally happened. All the stress, and fear and worry had obviously finally resulted in a heart attack. Although this wasn’t anything like the heart attacks he’d always seen people experience in the movies. Usually it was just a quick sharp gasp! A clutch to the chest, and falling to the floor dead.

The walls and floors started to vibrate in a deep roaring grumble. A car alarm sounded outside, and Harry’s bloody owl could be heard screeching in the next room.

Dudley tried to stand but fell instantly to his knees. He felt weaker than he ever had, as if his very structure was riddled with holes like Swiss cheese.

“Mum!” He tried to yell, but when he opened his mouth he was stunned to see a thick blackish-purple cloud of smoke leave his lips. It wasn’t quite smoke, it had more substance to it, it was thicker, and seemed to be charged with a static electricity. It zapped his lips when he clamped his mouth shut, absolutely paralyzed with fear and confusion.

But it refused to be swallowed or held back any longer. The ethereal, not-quite tangent substance began seeping from his eyes, nose and ears. His mouth hung open forcibly as it spewed out from somewhere deep inside of him. He forced himself to his feet and flung himself into the hallway stumbling blindly to his parents bedroom.

The terror was palpable all around. Harry’s door flew open as the teen scrambled to see what all the commotion was about, and when Dudley turned to look wildly in his direction, the magical substance threw Harry back with a powerful force. The screeching of his owl stopped mid-cry as the cloud washed into the open room. Hedwig fell to the bottom of her cage with a stiff thump, dead.

Dudley scrambled to his parents door, screaming even harder now. The pain and the terror were unbearable. The vibration of power rippling visibly through his skin, almost blurring his outward appearance, felt overwhelming and yet somehow… awe inspiring. Vernon burst through the door at the end of the hallway, Petunia peering from directly behind. Their faces went ghost white at the site of their precious son.

His appearance had taken on a rather terrifying form. Dudley’s skin was glowing with a dull blue light, and his whole body was vibrating violently, almost making him look doubled, and he was levitating. His eyes were all white and bleeding. His mouth hung open as the last remaining bit of the black smog dribbled from his chin.

“DIDDYKINS!” Petunia shrieked. And it was the last thing she ever uttered as a seismic blast of power erupted from Dudley and flug Vernon back into Petunia and through the wall. The force was so great that their bodies practically crumbled together into one tangled mess of smashed limbs, indiscernible which parts belonged to who.

As well as violently throwing his parents, the blast also threw Dudley. But it did not throw him back into a wall in 4 Privet Drive. It threw Dudley somewhere out into the universe. His lungs compressed painfully as he was squeezed through one dimensional plane to another. He had suddenly, unconsciously, apparated into a small forest clearing he didn’t immediately recognize. Obviously completely unaware of even the concept of apparation, let alone the subtle intricacies of perfecting the art, Dudley had splinched himself.

His skin no longer glowed with that sickening pale blue glow he didn’t understand and couldn’t explain, but he gasped in horror to see several large chunks of his left arm missing and bleeding. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt. He was in so much shock he couldn’t feel anything, but the amount of blood pouring from the gaping wounds terrified him.

Where the fuck am I? What the fuck is happening? Was all he kept thinking as he placed his shaking hand over the worst of his wounds trying to staunch the blood flow.

Did I just kill my fucking parents? The words creeped into his mind quietly at first and then began screaming. Oh my fucking God I just killed my parents. Dudley began to cry out until his chest roared back in protest. All of the air was pushed from his lungs as his sides stitched in agony.

Is this what dying feels like? Am I really fucking dying right now? Dudley’s breath hitched as he slumped to the side. He was shaking horrendously, teetering right on the edge of consciousness when suddenly he sensed he was not alone.

He stared out into the dark forest in front of him as a pale hooded figure strolled out from behind the trees. It was a man… but not like any man Dudley had ever seen before. He was tall and slender with skin so white it was almost translucent in the moonlight. His eyes were bright glowing red and his features were more snake-like than man.

He sauntered over to Dudley almost sensually, grinning madly.

“P-p-please help me s-sir. I… I think I’ve h-had a h-heart attack!” Dudley called out desperately. By now he was well aware that whatever the hell had happened was certainly more than a bloody heart attack. But those were the stupid words his mouth chose to say in the moment.

Lord Voldemort knelt down beside Dudley and placed a long skeletal finger to the boys trembling lips.

“Shhh, shhh, quiet now my sweet child. I have come to take the pain away…” he hissed with sick sweetness. He gently placed his wand tip to Dudley’s wounded arm and stopped the bleeding instantly.

Dudley stared in absolute wonderment as the chunks of missing flesh seemed to meld back together seamlessly, painlessly, right before his eyes. His fear began to dissipate as he caught his breath.

“Who… who are you?” Dudley asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why, I go by many names my boy… You may call me Lord Voldemort. What is your name, child?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Dudley, though he could not place where he would have ever heard it before. A shiver ripped through Dudley as an image of his parents smashed bodies suddenly flashed in his mind.

“D-Dudley sir, my n-name is Dudley Dursley. I think s-something is terribly wrong. I’m scared I don’t know what’s happening.” Dudley began to sob as the weight of the situation began to sink in. Yet his brain could not compute or keep up with everything going on. It was a maddening feeling. Lord Voldemort placed his thin hand on Dudley’s shoulder.

“Calm down my child. You are safe now. That was a powerful bit of magic you just displayed. I had thought you were the great Harry Potter when I traced you here, but I see now you’re much more powerful than he.” Voldemort practically whispered in Dudley’s ear.

“Harry Potter… how do you know my cousin?” Dudley asked. His brow furrowed at the mention of his name. As if plucking the thoughts right from Dudley’s mind, Voldemort cooed beside him.

“Harry Potter is the source of all of this, is he not? The source of the hatred that caused you to suppress your magic. Thus the source of this destruction. Thus the source of all the pain of your little life… your poor helpless parents. What in the world will you do now, Dudley? Now that you’re all alone? Now that you’re orphaned?” Peering into the child’s mind was like slicing through butter with a hot knife. It was deliciously easy to pull the darkest of Dudley’s thoughts to the surface of his mind. Dudley place his head in his hands and bellowed in despair.

“Weep not, my child. For I have decided to help you.”

Dudley looked up through tear blurred eyes into the face of the dark Lord, trying desperately to regulate his breathing and take it all in.

Of course lord Voldemort was right. This was all because of Harry. All of this magic nonsense began with him. Dudley was certain that if his parents had discovered it first in Dudley they wouldn’t have feared it nearly as much. But Harry ruined everything. They hated Harry so they hated his magic but maybe they could have learned to accept Dudley’s. If not for Harry scaring them all the time and threatening their family.

“Help me how?” Dudley murmured, wiping at his tired sore eyes.

“Why Dudley I do believe that your magic combined with my own, is more than enough to end Potter permanently.” Voldemort purred, helping Dudley to stand on his feet.

Dudley looked up into the man’s strange eyes and felt a warm safety. Naive to the network of charms being cast onto him wandlessly and non verbally by Voldemort and the surrounding camp of Death Eaters.

“Come child; we’ve much to discuss…”

Chapter 2: The Secret

Notes:

Hey everyone thank you for reading, this is my first fanfic I’ve ever written or posted, I plan on updating weekly :) let me know what you think!

(Severus)

 

“It’s a miracle he survived.” Severus Snape said quietly, glancing down at the Boy Who Lived. Harry Potter looked very rough, to say the least. Even while asleep, the lines of worry were carved deep in the boys features, around his mouth and in the furrow of his brow. Deep purple and yellow bruises littered his body, especially around his midsection and his head was bandaged where his skull had been cracked wide open. Albus Dumbledore peered at him warily from behind his half-moon spectacles.

“Yes, a miracle it is. Unfortunate though it may be that young Potter has been forced to overcome so many great obstacles, his endurance is… admirable.”

Severus looked at the man and could hardly resist a sneer. Admirable. Snape had never been fond of the boy, often finding him painfully arrogant and imbecilic at best. But to sum up everything the boy had suffered over his short life with one little word… admirable… seemed almost callous.

“Do you have any idea as to what may have happened tonight?” Snape questioned. Dumbledore sat down on a stool beside the bed where Harry lay. The man looked more haggard than usual. Dumbledore was nothing if not a picture of strength and unquestionable leadership. But now in the early hours of the morning, part of his mask had slipped and he looked older and more tired than Severus had seen him ever before.

“It seems to me that Dudley Dursley was an Obscurial. His and his parents' hatred of magic caused him to try and suppress his abilities. Quite powerful ones by the looks of things. We know of course, one cannot simply ignore and stifle their magic for too long before it becomes dark and parasitic… his accidental burst of magic nearly leveled the whole street.” Dumbledore clasped his hands in his lap taking a deep breath.

The magic wards in place on number 4 Privet Drive had alerted Dumbledore in the wee hours of the morning detecting a strong and dark magical signature; he feared the worst. Of course he did have the Order of the Phoenix watching the house. Mad Eye Moody himself had taken on the task of monitoring Potter for the summer. He had been one of the strongest and best equipped Aurors that Dumbledore had ever personally met, there truly was nobody better suited for the job.

And yet, Dumbledore had thought, clearly Moody had missed something… but that was only until he arrived on the scene and realized an entirely different horror unfolded than what he had initially expected.

Dumbledore recounted to Severus the events of the early morning. He had apparated with a loud crack to Privet Drive not expecting the sheer amount of utter chaos. It looked like he had dropped into an active war zone. Where there had once been a quiet suburb of neatly uniform houses now lay a debris field, largely on fire.

Sirens from muggle police and ambulance were growing closer, still yet to arrive on the scene. With a flick of Dumbledore’s wand, time almost seemed to stand still as everything slowed, and calmed, and everything went silent.

He walked up to the heap that used to be house number 4. What he saw first, laying amongst the rubble were the severely mutilated bodies of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Only feet away lay Harry Potter. Dumbledore held his breath as he approached the boy.

Harry was sprawled out in a disgustingly unnatural position. His left arm was bent backwards with the bones sticking out of the skin. He was folded in on himself at the midsection in a way that could only come from severe spinal fracture. But most disturbingly, the back of his head from his hairline to the base of his neck was split open wide, grossly revealing the delicate brain underneath.

It was worse than Albus had expected. He felt as though his blood ran cold and all the earth fell out from beneath his feet as the gravity of the situation sunk his heart into the pits of his stomach. It’s over, he thought. And so the fate of the world was sealed. And everyone was doomed.

No sooner than the bleakest of existential dread came crashing into Dumbledore's mind, did it dissipate. For right before his eyes, Harry Potters skull began to fuse back together magically on its own. With a series of quick sickening snaps, Harry’s bones retreated back into their rightful place inside his arm, and his spine straightened back into its natural position. These were healing powers unlike anything Albus Dumbledore had ever seen before.

Is this boy truly impervious? He thought to himself, dumbfounded and awe struck. Dumbledore was a very old, very powerful, very experienced wizard. He understood fully the bounds of possibility of healing injuries like these, with potions, spells and even natural healing abilities…

Harry Potter should, for all intents and purposes, be dead.

And yet he wasn’t. Even before Dumbledore’s initial shock wore off, shortly followed by quick-minded understanding, Harry was seemingly trying to stand. Albus rushed forward, catching him as the boy collapsed, a sick gurgling coming from his mouth.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry! Don’t try to move!” Dumbledore gasped, wandlessly casting a gentle stunning charm on the boy. Harry was clearly in an intense state of shock. His eyes darted wildly, and though the stunning charm prevented him from voluntarily moving, his hands tremored erratically.

Dumbledore spelled the boy unconscious. He had a very big mess to clean up, and the time halting charm was surely soon to break.

He handled the rest of the situation in the extraordinarily flawless and graceful way Dumbledore had always been known for handling things. Within seconds he and Harry apparated to safety with a thunderous crack and the flow of time returned to normal on the muggle street. Everything was now as if neither of them had ever been there.

“This is the first I’ve heard of Potters healing ability.” said Snape quietly. Soft as his voice was, Albus started, having temporarily lost himself in reverie.

“I must admit Severus, I too was ignorant of it. All these years, I foolishly believed young Harry escaped all of these near-death escapades by sheer luck. Now I’m starting to believe he very well may have been gravely injured time and time again and we never knew because he was able to heal before anyone could get there.”

They sat in a somber silence for a long while until Severus spoke again.

“Well, as fascinating as all this may be, now you must think of something to do with the boy. He obviously can’t go back there.” Severus said wryly. “Surely you’re not thinking of leaving him to the mutt?”

“Ah, no Severus. I don’t believe Sirius would be equipped to handle the fragility of this situation with Harry at the present moment.” Albus twiddled his thumbs, staring fixedly at the floor. “In fact this brings me to something else I had wished to speak to you about.”

Everything about the man’s tone and body language had Severus on edge. He was no stranger to Dumbledore’s tactics. He’d been indebted to the man for close to two decades now.

“Severus I’m about to reveal to you something that I’ve been… frightened, to tell you for a very long time.”

Snape hadn’t been sure of what Dumbledore was going to say, but this was not anything close to what he had been expecting to hear. The gravity of the man’s words slammed into his heart icily.

“Lily Potter confided in me just before her passing the revelation that you were most likely in fact the true biological father of Harry. Of course she couldn’t know for sure at the time, but she had strong suspicions. She asked me to keep her secret long enough to talk things over with James. And unfortunately I believe she died before she ever had the chance. I will also admit since then I have done my own diagnostic assessment on Harry to confirm her suspicions, and they were correct.”

Albus Dumbledore, habitually by nature, had a tendency of beating around the bush. More often than not, speaking in riddles and forcing you to jump through hoops for the answers. But now these words tumbled out of him so matter-of-factly that there was almost an air of coldness to it. It left a throbbing ache in his chest, that Dumbledore could possibly reveal such a life altering secret in such a nonchalant fashion.

Severus’ expression was that of perfect calmness and passivity. Looking at his face, you would think they’d been speaking about the weather, or Quidditch. But behind his small black eyes, his mind raced with so many conflicting emotions that he truly felt as though he could implode.

Mainly he felt anger. Angry that Dumbledore could have possibly kept something like this from him for so many years. Angry at Lily, for never having told him herself. The woman he loved. The woman he pined for. The woman he mourned every single day for the past 14 years. To think that she could have kept from him something so… to think that this whole time, standing right in front of him… and with that thought, Severus was mostly angry at himself.

He broke his steady controlled gaze at the headmaster and looked down at the sleeping child in the bed in front of him. Severus felt a gag come up his throat, and he forced himself to swallow it down. He hated the boy. He had truly hated the boy. Harry Potter, for the past 4 years, had been the embodiment of everything he had hated. Every feature of the boy reminded him of James. The only quality he possessed of Lily’s were his eyes, and Snape had never actually had the courage to look into them.

“Well... Is that all?” Severus turned his gaze back to Albus, catching a glimmer of smugness in his eyes before his mouth dropped into a contemptuous frown.

“Oh, Severus.” Dumbledore said, thick with morose.

“Oh, Albus! Come off it!” Snape suddenly bellowed, his usual expression of cold neutrality now swatched with one of blistering rage, “What the hell do you expect me to say to that?”

“Of course, you know, I always want you to say whatever it is you see fit my boy. It’s your actions I find myself more concerned with. Starting with what you plan to do about your son?” Dumbledore stared at him gravely.

Snape could feel the color drain his face and his hands went ice cold. He said nothing for a long while, just searching Dumbledore’s eyes for a hint of something human.

“What is it that you propose I do?” He said finally, his voice thick and barely louder than a whisper. Dumbledore stood and quietly paced to Severus’ side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was all Snape could do not to shift out from underneath him.

“He needs a place to live. He is your son. Your blood connection to the boy will reactivate Lily’s sacrificial blood wards and provide him protection once more. We will also need to inform the Order. I am afraid Harry’s reaction to the events that have transpired will be… difficult to maneuver. Especially considering what he’s been through last year. Now Severus, I know that he is your son and it is ultimately your decision but I must advise we not tell the boy about the truth of his identity until we are sure he is mentally stable. We don’t want to overwhelm the boy with everything all at once.” Dumbledore trailed on, as Snape found himself drifting in and out of awareness of the man’s ramblings.

What the hell am I going to do? He thought to himself bitterly, a wave of despair threatening to surface. He had treated the boy like absolute garbage for years. And Potter's current mental state was no secret. The Order had been watching him closely. Moody frequently reported on bouts of night terrors that kept the boy awake for days at a time, as well as evidence of self injury.

Severus was not an evil monster as some would have you believe. He knew the boy was troubled and more fragile than he had ever been, and desperately needed real care and stability. Despite his dislike for the child, Snape could still recognize that that’s what he was. A child. His child. Snape did gag audibly then, and Dumbledore graciously pretended not to notice.

How could he put his own reservations aside for his sake? What even were his reservations now, after knowing Harry didn’t share one shred of James Potter's dna? Severus looked down at Harry sullenly. This boy was here on this earth, as a physical stamp of proof of the love that he and Lily had shared. And love her, he absolutely did. Severus wouldn’t ever admit it but he felt… robbed, strangely enough.

His own father had been horrible. A muggle drunk who often let his fists do any speaking for him. A much younger, purer Severus had sworn any future son of his would never suffer at the hands of his father. And now he ate those words as every ugly, horrific thing he’d spat at Harry over the years resurfaced in his mind.

How could he not fail at this when he so clearly already had?

“Why did you never tell me?” Snape finally asked, “Why would you wait and let things get so dire?”

It seemed for once, Albus had nothing to say. He sat silently for a long time until he finally uttered, voice barely audible, “Because I feared it would break you.”

Severus squinted his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t help but sneer at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. But finally he sighed in exasperation “Of course he can stay with me.”

Dumbledore looked surprised, but pleased. “Very well, my boy. Harry still needs some rest, we can check in with the healers in a few hours and assess his condition. I suggest you do your preparations for him, and I will organize an urgent meeting with the Order. For now Severus you should stay away from Headquarters. I don’t imagine Sirius will be too pleased after the meeting.”

Chapter 3: Nightmares

(Harry)

Harry knew he was dreaming. The all consuming fear and twisted memories scrambling together into the most horrific nightmares, unfortunately had become something he was used to. Usually they all started the same.

Darkness. Then a blinding flash of green light. A high pitched woman’s scream in the distance, slowly morphing into cold morose laughter.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

A sickening thud as Cedric falls at his feet. Reaching down and touching his cold lifeless fingers with a trembling hand. The sheer disbelief, and then fear, and then dread.

Usually right about here, the nightmare would force Harry to relive the grueling events that took place in the graveyard after the Triwizard Tournament. Voldemorts face would fill his minds eye and he would wake with a start, panting and drenched in sweat.

But this time it was different. Instead of Voldemort looming over him with a bemused sneer, the face that flashed was Dudley’s with white bleeding eyes. His expression a look of sheer terror. The smells of broken flesh, blood and excrement.

Harry bolted upright, ignoring the roar of pain flaming in his guts. He couldn’t immediately recognize where he was, but he knew he was not in his bedroom on Privet Drive. It looked as if he were in an infirmary but not the one at Hogwarts. He’d been there plenty enough times over the years, he would have recognized immediately.

“Ah, Harry my boy, you are awake,” came the familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore from the doorway. Harry looked up at his headmaster and felt a small wave of relief begin to wash over him from the familiarity, until he met the man’s gaze. His expression was not a happy one. He looked damn exhausted and uncharacteristically serious.

“Professor Dumbledore, what happened? Where am I?” Harry asked, his voice was hoarse with disuse, but still held a note of panic.

Dumbledore raised a hand, “Calm down young Harry. You are alright,” He sounded more callous and withdrawn than normal which gave Harry an uneasy feeling. “I regret to inform you, there was an… accident involving your relatives. Harry, my boy, there is no easy way to tell you this but they did not survive. You yourself very narrowly survived. You’re in St. Mungos Hospital, you have been here recovering for three days.”

Harry’s lips went numb and his ears started ringing. He felt like he got punched in the chest and all of the air was forced from his lungs as he struggled to process what was just said to him. There was a small part of his brain, disgusting as it may be, that felt an instant surge of relief. And maybe even… justice? The people who had tormented and hated him, and made his life a living hell were gone.

He would never again hear their fuming voices screaming ugly things; calling him freak, worthless, loathsome boy. Telling him he was never wanted in their home and he never would be. Reminding him he should have died right along with his parents.

He would never again feel the sharp sting of Vernon’s belt lacerating his backside. He would never be beaten, cut, burned, hell even bitten by the man ever again.

He would never have to wake up before the sunrise to make and serve breakfast, while he was forced to eat scraps from a dog bowl, never. ever. again.

A much larger part of his brain refused to be gratuitous. You should be ashamed of yourself, he thought sickly, that he could ever feel like that no matter the circumstance. The Dursley’s were still people. They were the only family he had left. And now they were gone and he had nobody.

He had nobody.

Only a truly evil person could think like that… if he were honestly capable of taking any form of solace in the deaths of his last remaining family members, then maybe they were fucking right about him.

He was a freak. He deserved every one of those beatings, didn’t he? Clearly they hadn’t taught him anything, how bad could they have been? Worse than wishing his family dead? Worse than getting Cedric killed? Worse than resurrecting the Dark Lord?

Grief and shame threatened to swallow him as his eyes began to blur. He clenched his fists and felt his nails digging into his palms. He choked down the ball of emotions sticking in his throat and blinked back his tears. stupid, weak.

“What kind of accident, sir?” He asked softly after a long time, expecting for sure to learn of an attempt on his life from none other than Voldemort himself.

“At this time there is no evidence of any involvement from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Dumbledore said reassuringly as he began pacing at the foot of his bed. “I know that things have been especially difficult for you this summer. I am reluctant to divulge too much information with you for just now, my boy, you’ve far too much on your plate already.”

Harry felt another twinge of shame, and also embarrassment, at his words. He hated that Dumbledore had caught wind of his vulnerability. He had written a letter to both Sirius and Remus at the start of the summer confessing some of his darker thoughts after a particularly nasty fight with aunt Petunia; and they didn’t react well.

Remus had been very worried, and contacted both Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley. They each sent him lengthy uncomfortable letters, and McGonagall all but threatened to have him shipped off to St. Mungos’ mental unit.

Sirius on the other hand was very angry, and wrote him a rather scathing letter reminding him he should be mindful of the sacrifices that have been made for him, especially his parents’ lives. He told Harry he never once thought of ‘giving up’ even after being haunted by dementors for 12 bloody years.

Harry wrote them back, apologizing fiercely, and vowed never to make himself look so fucking pathetic and weak ever again. He’d left everyone alone since then. But the nightmares… they were impossible. Every night, all the worst things that had ever happened to him played over and over in his mind on an endless loop. He was so tired, but, often times too afraid to sleep. Dudley of course never failed to make fun of him about it.

A surge of anger flashed in his mind and sent a sharp pain through his scar. He instinctively covered his forehead with his hand and winced slightly.

“How long have you been having the nightmares, Harry?” Dumbledore asked slowly, his fierce gaze never leaving him.

“Since the night in the graveyard.” Harry admitted blankly.

“Can you describe them to me? I assume they’ve been quite disturbing for you?”

This of course was the understatement of the century. Harry would never admit it, and look even more weak and pathetic in front of this man he had so much respect for. But Harry wasn’t coping well.

Last year really took a lot out of him. The Triwizard Tournament was every bit of recklessness and dangerousness that he had expected and that everyone had warned him about. Which, he knew it would be, but he didn’t realize how close to death he would brush with every task.

The dragon whipped him with its tail with one graceful flick, and Harry remembered the agony he felt as he realized every bone on the right side of his body was shattered. Then again it healed almost instantly, he hadn’t even had time to process the gravity of his injuries before they were healed miraculously. As he scrambled to get away from the Hungarian Horntail, he felt the beam of fire the dragon spat directly at his back. It burnt through every layer of clothes, every layer of skin, every layer of muscle, directly down to the bone. But then that healed too, before anyone was any the wiser. As he stood shaking, clutching the egg he just fought with his life for, the eruption of cheers from the watching audience was deafening. Everyone was so proud and nobody bothered to lead him to a medi-witch.

Then the mermaids had pulled him all the way down to the bottom of the lake for trying to rescue both Ron and Gabrielle. Take ONE, they had hissed. But the water was so cold, and they were so incredibly deep down in the lake. Harry couldn’t just leave them there. He was punished for it of course. He remembered all too clearly the crushing weight of millions of gallons of water on top of him as he was pulled further down. His ears felt like they were going to burst. His chest ached with the pressure. He’d been in the lake for over an hour at that point and his artificial gills were closing. The webbing between his fingers and toes that had been helping him stay afloat disappeared.

He took an accidental breath with his lungs and water poured into his nose and mouth, filling him and sinking him deeper. Nothing would ever compare to the blind panic he felt in that moment as his body screamed for air while all around him was nothing but black frigid water. With the last remaining bit of consciousness and energy he had left, he raised his wand and shot himself up and to the surface of the lake. Ron and Gabrielle were awake, swimming away, and already halfway to shore. Harry was comforted by their safety, but every muscle in his body hurt. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He was more tired than he’d ever felt in his life. He desperately wished, to no avail, that someone would see him drowning out here and pull him to safety too.

Then of course the final task, the maze. Of all three, this task was both the easiest and the most difficult. The actual maze was a breeze. He hardly encountered any of the dozens of dangerous magical creatures Hagrid had donated to the challenge. There were a few nasty spells here and there, and Viktor Krum had attacked him- under the influence of the imperious curse, Harry understood now. But the events afterwards, in the graveyard, would scar him forever.

When he grabbed the Triwizard Cup with Cedric Diggory that night he was on top of the world. He remembered being so bloody proud of himself. Finally the tournament was over and he won! He actually won! With Cedric beaming at his side. He didn’t even care about sharing the spotlight with him. Hogwarts won! When he grabbed the cup and felt the familiar pull behind his navel, he had thought the portkey would be taking them to some grand stage with his friends cheering and waiting.

It didn’t make sense in the moment, when they realized that there was no stage. No crowd cheer. No Dumbledore, or any professors. Not anything at all. He had only just begun to register it was a graveyard they were standing in when he heard a high pitched, eerie voice shout KILL THE SPARE.

And then Cedric fell, dead at his feet.

Even though the mystery of how and why these events transpired wouldn’t be explained to him for another few hours, Harry knew then and there that all this had been a set up. And that he stupidly fell for it.

He knew he technically watched his mother die. But he had only been a baby, and he remembered nothing of it unless the dementors pulled it out from the deepest depths of his memory. This was the first dead body he had ever seen. Even when he defeated professor Quirrell in first year, he had passed out from his own pain and shock before he ever saw a body. Harry stared into Cedric’s, once so vibrant, lifeless eyes and it felt like he was watching from somewhere outside himself. Before he could even collect his thoughts and pull himself together he felt himself being pulled away by his hair by someone with large, strong hands.

He tried to kick and fight away but he was so afraid. It almost felt like a dream, he couldn’t make himself understand that this was real. If he could have just gotten a fucking grip maybe he could have done something more. A regret he would take to his grave, he was sure.

If almost drowning at the bottom of the lake had been the worst blind panic he’d ever felt, then this had been the worst dread-filled terror. He could only watch, and cry, while Peter Pettigrew used Harry’s blood to bring back Lord Voldemort. He had never felt so useless, so disgusted and ashamed, or so terrified.

Getting out of there alive was a miracle, he remembered Dumbledore had said. But it certainly didn’t feel like a bloody miracle.

Truthfully, Harry wished it was he who died that day, not Cedric Diggory. He knew Cedric to be someone so incredibly brave. He was loved by so many people, one of the most popular, well liked students Hogwarts had ever seen. If he hadn’t been hit with his back turned by the killing curse, Harry was sure that Cedric would have done anything to get them out of there. They both would have lived, if it had been up to Cedric, but Harry would have gladly taken his place if he’d have only known.

Now everything was horrible. He couldn’t sleep without seeing Cedric’s face, or hearing the earth shattering cries of his father Amos as he held his only son dead in his arms. The guilt and regret and fear was eating Harry alive. How was it fair that Harry bloody Potter, of all people, would be born with the incredible ability to heal even the most devastating injuries? How the hell did he deserve that, when he was already living on time stolen from his beautiful, well loved, mother?

Of course he was reminded of that fact when he reached out to Sirius. Harry wasn’t mad. It hurt, but he really understood where Sirius was coming from. He couldn’t imagine how he himself would feel if his very best friend gave their life for some stupid kid who just doomed the whole world.

Another frightening aspect of the nightmares that Harry shared now with Dumbledore, is that sometimes they felt more like visions or prophecies than dreams at all. He recalled how sometimes he dreamed of places and people he’d never seen before and how in these dreams it felt as though he were watching the world through Voldemort’s eyes. The look on Dumbledore’s face only grew more solemn as Harry spoke.

“This is exactly what I had feared.” Dumbledore hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed.

“Harry, I believe that the ritual that was performed to bring Lord Voldemort back to life may have resulted in an unwanted connection between you two. Some of the dreams that you’re having are actually brief glimpses into Voldemort’s life. I don’t think they’re dreams at all, I think it’s all very real.”

“But, sir? Does that mean he can see what I’m seeing too? Does the connection go both ways?” Harry asked quietly.

“Unfortunately I believe so,” Dumbledore said gravely, “this actually brings me to something else I wanted to talk about. Harry, where were you thinking of staying during the summers now that the Dursleys are no longer an option?”

Harry thought about it. He knew Sirius was upset with him, and doubted if his offer to live with him still stood after everything that’s happened. He thought about Ron and the Weasleys at the Burrow, but felt a rush of guilt knowing how cramped and crowded it already was over there. He had never even met Hermione’s parents.

“I really have no idea, sir. I haven’t had much time to really think about it and I wouldn't want to burden anybody.” Harry finally said, honestly. Dumbledore pondered for a minute.

“If I may make a suggestion?” He asked softly. Harry nodded.

“Of course, sir.”

“I have already spoken to him about it, and Professor Snape has agreed to let you stay with him,” Dumbledore must have seen Harry’s face fall, as he quickly raised his hand motioning for Harry to wait and listen as he continued speaking.

“I know that you two have never really gotten along in the past, Harry, but I urge you to take him on his offer for several reasons. To begin, Severus is an excellent Occlumens. Meaning he can teach you ways to block off your mind from this connection to Voldemort. There is no other wizard I know or trust more to help you with this. He is a far better Occlumens than even myself,”

“Secondly, you are aware that Severus in his youth had a bit of a crush on your mother, is that correct?” Dumbledore paused, and Harry nodded again, though truthfully he hadn’t known that at all.

“Well, Harry, I do believe that it was much more than a crush. When your mother passed away, her sacrifice created a protective ward for you with blood magic. This is the reason you were always protected from the dark arts while you lived with the Dursleys. Their blood connection to you, and her, would have allowed that protection to continue until your seventeenth birthday. I briefly mentioned some of this to you at the end of your first year of Hogwarts, if you remember, albeit with far less detail. But I never told you that Severus actually made a Vow to your mother, before her death, to protect you at all costs if something should happen to her. Which he has done, mostly behind the scenes, ever since. In my opinion, his love for your mother combined with the Vow he took, will be enough to allow your mothers sacrificial ward to continue providing you protection.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a long time. He picked at the bandage wrapped around his midsection and tried to silently atone for whatever sins he committed that allowed his life to spiral so far in this horrible direction. Why did he survive the accident?

“Sir… he hates me. It’s not that we just ‘don’t get along’. I just don’t understand why he would want to live with someone he hates so much.” Harry said finally. Dumbledore smiled and placed a gentle hand on Harry’s leg.

“Contrary to your belief, Severus does not ‘hate’ you. I firmly believe you two have just always misunderstood each other. Maybe this will allow you to see, you actually have quite a bit in common. But Harry, regardless of your past relationship, Severus would never hurt you. He is sworn to protect you. He knew what that may entail the day he made the Vow. He knows about your rather… desperate situation that you have been in as of late. I have talked with him and he is most certainly up for the task of housing you and teaching you Occlumency. Will you at least try, Harry? And if it’s truly miserable we can consider something else for next summer?”

Fucking great, Harry thought bitterly to himself. Now Snape knows about his pathetic weakness too. As if everything in his life wasn’t already bordering on unbearable, now he was meant to go spend the rest of the summer with the person who hated him more than anyone? Harry truly believed Snape probably hated him more than Voldemort did.

Harry’s heart began to sink in his chest as a fog of the most intense and crippling depression began to fill his brain. Whether he liked to admit it or not, Harry was fragile. He was weak. He was a child. He knew how to handle living with the Dursleys by now. Most of the time, if he didn’t speak to them and just pretended he didn’t exist, they would leave him alone. He knew he couldn’t get away with that when it came to Snape. All the years in potions class keeping his head down yet being humiliated in front of everyone anyways told him that much. He couldn’t handle a full summer of having his biggest insecurities and flaws echoed back to him by a grown man. Maybe before, but definitely not now. He couldn’t handle leaving one nightmare only to be thrust into another worse one.

As mediocre as Harry believed he was, he was sure he hadn’t done anything wrong enough in his life that would keep him out of heaven when he went to the afterlife. And that’s what he longed for. Eternal paradise, or even eternal nothingness. Anything would be better than being trapped in this life where he was never wanted by anyone, not even himself.

“Okay, sir. Whatever you think is best.” Harry said politely after a bit. It really didn’t matter where Dumbledore sent him. If there was a room with a bed that he could rot in, then it would be good enough and he would find a way to make it work. At this point he couldn’t think of anything worse, but he also couldn’t think of anything better. It was all terrible, no matter what. Always had been, always will be.

“Great. I really do think that this is for the best. In a few hours, Severus will be here to bring you to your new home. Your belongings that withstood the accident have already been retrieved. In the meantime try and get some rest. And…Get well soon, Harry. You’re very lucky to have survived. A lot of people have been praying for you.” Harry said nothing as Dumbledore clapped his leg one last time before standing and striding out of the room.

The minute he closed the door, Harry slammed his head back against the headboard and let the tears fall. He cried silently at first but soon enough broke down into pitiful sobbing. He hated his life, more so now than he had ever hated it before. He dug his nails into his forearm desperately trying to ground himself, and the scratches fastened back together instantly; leaving little droplets of blood behind but not any visible scars.

He tried deep breathing but he was so worked up his lungs could only take in small shuddering gasps. He bit his lips trying to silence himself and his mouth filled with the taste of copper. Anxiety, morphed into frustration, morphed into rage.

Harry began punching himself as he cried and growled in fury, first his thighs and then his face. He did that for a long time. Cried and growled and punched himself. Nobody ever came in to check on him, or stop him, and eventually he tired himself out. His face was bruised but he knew all evidence of his outburst would be gone in minutes. It always was. This was the routine that Harry had grown accustomed to. Most of the time he cut instead of hitting himself but, it was all the same. It didn’t matter what he did to himself, it all healed whether he wanted it to or not.

He drifted off into an uneasy sleep waiting for the inevitable. If he could cause his own death by simply willing it to happen, maybe he would never have to go live with Severus fucking Snape. But as he faded away into unconsciousness, he knew he would never get that lucky.

Chapter 4: A New Beginning

(Severus)

With a loud CRACK, Severus apparated to the alleyway a block down from the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, 12 Grimmauld Place, the home of Sirius Black. He hated coming here. Not just because of the bitter grudge he still carried for Black, but also for the painful reminder of Sirius’ brother Regulus; Severus’ once closest friend. At one time, this place had felt like more of a home to him than his own dwelling. Reg’s parents, with all their faults, had still cared for Severus more so than his own mother or father ever had. But now Reg is gone. Been gone for sixteen years, and still the loss was ever painful.

With a heavy sigh, Severus sauntered up the front steps and rapped lightly on the door. Despite the heavy charms and wards protecting the secrecy of everything going on inside, he could still hear muffled commotion before the door swung open and he was hastily ushered in.

“Good evening, Severus.” Minerva McGonagall said, with a small smile, as she led him to the dining room where the meeting was to be held. Severus nodded his head politely at her in greeting. Minerva was one of the few members of the Order who Severus maintained any kind of rapport with. A few fights broke out upon Severus’ induction. It was no secret that the majority of the members did not trust him and did not want him here.

Not that Severus wanted to be here. He would much rather be in his lab brewing over a steaming cauldron. Or maybe taking an evening stroll, invisible under a disillusionment charm, alone with the stars and his thoughts. But no. He became a member of the Order, begrudgingly, under the strict commands of Albus Dumbledore. And this meeting in particular was focused on Severus himself, so he couldn’t very well miss it though he wished he could.

Severus took his usual place at the table, wedged between Minerva and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt was one of the many who disputed his induction into the Order, and chose to take a seat beside him when his arguments lost. Severus knew it was so he could keep a better eye on him, but he had nothing to hide.

Severus’ questionable past was certainly no secret. Everyone knew about the dark mark tattooed on his left forearm. And although Severus had remained completely faithful to the light and to Dumbledore for close to two decades, it seemed as though his past would never be truly forgiven and definitely not ever forgotten.

Albus was the last person to enter the room and with his presence also came a respectable silence as everyone waited for him to begin.

“Good evening, everyone. I have called this meeting to share some information with you all. Two nights ago, on the night of July first, Harry Potter’s home and his family were destroyed. Harry is okay. He is alive and recovering right now in St. Mungo’s Hospital.”

“Was it You-Know-Who?” Sirius asked quickly, leaning forward and peering into Dumbledore’s eyes scrutinously.

“No. It was Harry’s cousin, Dudley Dursley. It appears he was an Obscurial.” Dumbledore said, sounding both reassured and troubled by the revelation. Nobody seemed to need any further explanation, though, as everyone either nodded or tsked thoughtfully in response.

“Merlin… how did he take the news?” Remus Lupin asked meekly as he brought a hand to his lips.

“Better than expected given his current mental state.” Dumbledore responded softly.

“Where will he be staying?” Sirius asked reproachfully. Severus rolled his eyes at Black’s blatant judgement toward the boy. As if Black himself didn’t suffer from bouts of sheer insanity much worse than Potter’s recent depressive episode.

“And that is what we are here to discuss today…” Dumbledore explained. Severus watched as eyes widened and jaws literally dropped while Albus shared the secret Severus himself had only learned the night before. Their expressions matched the same surprise Severus had felt. But as Albus finished his speech, surprise very quickly turned into outrage.

“What the ever loving fuck are you saying right now, Dumbledore? Harry? My godson? Has really been Snivvy’s all along?” Sirius demanded incredulously. His hands were shaking and he looked ghost white. His ice-blue eyes swam with tears.

“I’m sorry to deliver you such unsettling news, Sirius. Of course this doesn’t have to change your relationship with Harry at all. He doesn’t even know yet, nor will he for the foreseeable future.”

“FUCK YOU ALBUS! How could this not change my relationship with him? This changes everything! You knew it would! That’s why you waited fourteen fucking years to tell me!” Sirius screamed. He was standing now, and he slammed both of his hands on the table in front of him, tears falling unabashedly. Severus instinctively flicked his wrist to drop his wand into his hand in case things started to spiral out of control.

Severus honestly thought that Black’s dramatics were a bit uncalled for. There was hardly any reason really for Black to hate him so much. Especially when it was Severus who had always been at the brunt of Black’s cruelty and pranks, never the other way around. Even since Black’s escape from Azkaban, Severus hadn’t spoken so much as a sentence to the man; forget what happened when they were children still in school.

“You know what? Actually this makes perfect sense,” Sirius said with a cold, humorless, laugh after a moment. He shook his head and brushed the front of his robes before sitting back down, “Something always felt off, I could never quite place it. I thought maybe I had just gone mad after spending so much time in Azkaban. But after everything that happened at the start of the summer, I knew in my heart there wasn’t a speck of James Potter in that boy.”

“Thank Merlin.” Severus muttered under his breath. Sirius shot him a scathing look, and Severus returned to him an amused smirk.

“Shut the fuck up, Snape.” Black barked at him as he folded his arms across his chest like the petulant child he was.

“Gentlemen…” Dumbledore started, shooting a look of reproach to both of them before continuing, “I realize this information may be a bit difficult for you to swallow, Sirius, but I urge you to take some time for yourself to calm down and think things through before giving up on the boy all together. He looks up to you. And as I have said, Harry has not yet been informed of any of this. Nor will he be for quite some time. It may cause him a considerable amount of pain to be written off with no explanation.”

“And what if I don’t care? What if I don’t give a damn, and can’t be bothered to concern myself with coddling his feelings at this point? You didn’t read that bloody letter, Dumbledore! The kid’s barking mad already, your precious Boy-Who-Lived, is more like the Boy-Dead-Set-On-Offing-Himself!”

“That’s ENOUGH.” Snape roared, cutting him off, struggling now to keep his composure.

“FUCK OFF SNIVELLUS! As if you ever gave a damn about him!” Sirius snapped. He stood again, this time with his wand drawn threateningly, pointing at Severus’ chest.

“Yes, well, clearly that is going to change, isn’t it?” Severus said with a sneer. Black laughed and threw his head back, wand still drawn.

“Oh yes, I’m sure. Everything probably will change now that you know he isn’t the dreaded son of James Potter you always thought he was. Of course you wouldn’t be a complete arse to the son of a Death Eater.” Sirius jabbed coldly. He did sit back down though, seeing that Severus refused to even acknowledge the wand in his face.

“You’re right, Black, as much as it pains me to say. I was a complete arse to him. Do you think I just suddenly forgot the last four years? I was awful to him and I know that and I admit that openly, to everyone here. We aren’t all without flaw, as you so clearly believe you are. Now that I know he is my son, I’d like to believe even you wouldn’t think I’d continue to be cruel to him.” Severus said with a scowl. Not that he needed to explain himself to Sirius Black for anything. But he also wanted to settle that notion before anyone else could share in his sentiment. Nobody said anything for a while. Sirius just glared into Severus’ eyes with nothing but pure hatred.

“I don’t have a time-turner, Black. Unfortunately I cannot go back and undo my actions. All I can do is be better going forward. And what about you? Did you not just tell every one of us that you no longer care to participate in the boy's life now that you know he isn’t the son of James Potter? How on earth is that any better than anything I’ve done?” Severus was normally not a man of many words. He knew though, that he had something to prove at this moment. Not necessarily to Black, but to the Order, certainly to Albus, and mostly to himself.

“Your son. Right. Well if that’s all, then I’m through with this conversation.” Sirius said coldly. Severus rolled his eyes and Black began to stand and leave when Dumbledore held up his hand and halted him.

“Actually, Sirius, that is not all. Harry will be leaving the hospital to move in with Severus tomorrow evening. Although he will once again have Lily’s wards to protect him, I’m afraid that will not be enough now that Voldemort has returned.” A few people visibly flinched when Albus said the name, but he hardly seemed to notice as he continued.

“We will need to continue to monitor him. Harry is still exhibiting signs of self harm and suicidal thoughts. We must protect him from himself as much as we must protect him from the Dark Lord. Harry is the only person who can defeat Voldemort when the time comes, as foretold by the prophecy. If we lose him preemptively it will be absolutely devastating to our efforts against the dark forces threatening the entire Wixen world.”

Nobody said anything. Sirius shook his head and continued throwing hateful glances in Severus’ direction. Lupin patted Black on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort the man but he was clearly inconsolable at present. Everyone else seemed to be rather dumbfounded, which Severus may have found amusing were it not so dire of a circumstance. When nobody said anything, Dumbledore continued.

“As well as relocating him, and monitoring him, Severus will be teaching Harry Occlumency. I have reason to believe that there is a shared connection between the two minds of Harry and Voldemort, and we need to close that connection as soon as we can. Merlin forbid the Dark Lord learns of this connection and attempts to exploit it.” Dumbledore finished up his sentiment with ordering assignments to some of the members as others began filtering out of the room slowly.

Sirius stormed out of the room angrily the second Dumbledore finished speaking. Severus attempted to leave just as quickly when he was stopped at the front door by Minerva.

“Severus, wait, can I speak to you for a moment?” She said, reaching out and lightly grabbing his arm as he reached for the knob.

“Yes?” He asked, more coldly than he intended to sound. He both liked and respected Minerva. He wasn’t eager to hear any criticism or negativity come from her.

“Congratulations. Seriously. I listened to what you were saying in there, and it sounds like you’re handling all of this with a lot of grace. I’m overjoyed to see that you’re going to step up and take responsibility for your child. Harry is a good boy. Help him, Severus.” Minerva’s eyes glimmered as she spoke and Snape couldn’t help but feel a little rush of adoration for her. It meant more to him than he would ever say to anyone to have her on his side.

“Thank you. I will do everything I can. Merlin knows I have many years to make up for.” Severus said honestly. Normally he may have hid behind some snide remark but, he had quite a bit of shame and regret for the whole mess of an ordeal.

“Like you said, all you can do is be better now. I have so much faith in you, Severus. If there’s anything I can do to help or assist you please don’t be afraid to reach out.” Minerva patted him on the shoulder before turning back towards the dining room. Severus brushed his robes and strolled out the door with his head up, looking way more confident than he actually felt.

*********

The next afternoon, Severus stood outside the door to Harry’s room at the hospital and sighed heavily. Even with two days to mull things over, he had no idea how to even approach the boy. He closed off his mind from the anxiety with occlumency and carefully opened the door, his face free from any emotion at all.

Harry was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up at Severus as he entered the room and they met each other’s eyes for the first time. What he saw was sheer terror, and it stabbed at his heart.

“Hello, Harry. Are you ready to go?” Severus said in as gentle and warm of a voice as he could muster. The fear in Harry’s eyes shimmered to suspicious confusion. It took everything in Severus not to sigh or roll his eyes.

“Y-yes, sir.” Harry finally stammered after a moment of tense silence.

“Come along.” Severus said, offering something that could be a smile, if he wasn’t trying to over do it. This was, admittedly, more difficult than he had expected.

Harry awkwardly side-stepped out of the room past Severus, shrinking against the door ensuring not to brush against him even by accident. He chose not to acknowledge Harry’s fear of him at the moment. It would surely take a while for both of them to adjust to this new arrangement.

Neither of them said anything as Severus checked Harry out of the hospital, nor did they say anything as they travelled to Snapes’ childhood home in Cokeworth on Spinner’s End, where he still resided.

The brick house was large enough, but rather old and dilapidated, nearly identical to the other houses surrounding it. Cokeworth was a factory town, with smog hanging heavily in the air. Everything seemed to be covered by a fine layer of soot. Severus opened the door and held it for Harry to come inside, and he only hesitated for a moment. A good sign?

“Nice house, Professor.” Harry said politely, a blush of pink tingeing his cheeks, no doubt embarrassed by the niceties.

“Thank you, Harry. This is now just as much your home as it is mine. Please make yourself comfortable however you like.” Severus said kindly as he walked toward the staircase.

“Your room is upstairs, first door on the right. Not many of your belongings were salvageable after the accident, unfortunately. I can of course help you replace anything you need. Just make a list and I’ll acquire everything as soon as possible.” Severus gestured towards the stairs and Harry nodded before ascending.

“Thank you, sir.” He said over his shoulder. Severus said nothing and let Harry go find his room on his own while he went to the kitchen.

“Mipsy!” Snape called, and a little black house elf with drooping ears, wide yellow eyes, and a gap toothed smile appeared with a small crack.

“Yes, Master Snape? Whatever can Mipsy be doing for you?” She said in a squeaky high pitched voice.

“Will you please prepare lunch for Harry and I? I have no idea what he likes. Perhaps just a tea service and sandwiches for now. Thank you, Mipsy.” Severus said absently, observing the limited contents of his fridge. He would also have to send the elf grocery shopping soon, but Severus wanted to find out what kinds of food Harry liked beforehand. The quickest way to the heart is through the stomach, he’d always been told. Although, from personal experience he knew the quickest way to the heart was directly through the chest.

“Yes, sir! Mipsy will be right on it!” The elf said cheerfully as she began flitting away. Severus walked down the corridor towards his laboratory, entering the room but leaving the door ajar so he could hear if Harry called for him.

After about thirty minutes, Mipsy called for him to let him know lunch was ready, and Severus went to retrieve Harry.

He hesitated at the top of the stairs for a moment when he heard stifled crying coming from Harry’s room. Severus was torn between checking on the boy and trying to offer him some type of comfort, or retreating back down stairs and pretending he heard nothing.

Eventually though the cries became silent and Severus decided it best to knock. Harry had always been rather skinny but, during the summer clearly he had thinned out even more. He was almost skeletal and could hardly afford to miss any meals.

Severus rapped lightly on the door and he heard Harry from the other side invite him in, quietly.

“Lunch is ready.” Severus said simply, purposefully ignoring Harry’s red rimmed, puffy, eyes.

“Okay.” Harry said, looking at the ground. Severus hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Is everything alright?” He said after a moment. Severus glanced around the room. It wasn’t grand, of course, but the room was adequate. The walls were painted a cool grey, the floors were a dark hardwood. The only furniture was a bed, a night stand and a dresser, though Severus planned on telling Harry he could of course decorate the room however he would like. His thoughts were interrupted by Harry’s sudden laughter.

“Honestly, no not really.” He said, still staring at the floor. Severus nodded.

“I understand this is all a very sudden change for you. Change is difficult. I’m very sorry about the loss of your relatives.” Severus said softly. He folded his arms across his chest, completely out of his element. He had no idea how to talk to the child, let alone offer any comfort. Harry looked up at him then, meeting his gaze once more. He really did have Lily’s eyes. The exact same shade of emerald green.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Harry asked suspiciously. Severus sighed and rocked on his feet a bit.

“I have no desire to make your already terrible life even worse, Harry. I know given our history, it may be hard to believe, but I sincerely want to help you and make you feel as welcome as possible.” Severus said honestly. It would do no good to be defensive over his suspicion. He would probably feel the same way, if he were in Harry’s position. Apparently though, this was not the right thing to say. Harry smiled coldly and shook his head, eerily reminiscent of Black the night before.

“Why, though? I don’t understand. I know you hate me, you have always been disgusted by me. Now you’re making me lunch and asking about my feelings?” Harry said with a small bite to his tone.

“Would it make you feel better if I was a little mean to you?” Severus said sarcastically, in spite of himself.

“A bit, yeah.” Harry responded, somewhat challengingly. Snape rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Well, too bad.” Severus said with a saccharine smile, before he turned and left the room. He knew it wasn’t fair to already be losing patience with the boy. It was an adjustment for both of them. Would it be easy to verbally tear Harry to shreds? Of course. That was what Severus had been doing for years, and much to his own chagrin, it came naturally.

But now everything had to change. Severus refused to be anything like his own abusive father. Harry was his son, and whether anyone liked it or not, he would treat the boy respectfully and kindly. Difficult a task though it may be.

Severus took his seat at the dining table and grabbed a cup of tea and a sandwich for himself as Harry entered the room and took the seat across from him.

“I’m sorry, sir, for being rude. I’m just… I don’t know, I’m just struggling and having kind of a rough time. I appreciate you trying to help me.” Harry said softly, staring sheepishly at the table. Severus waved his hand airily.

“No need to apologize. I know I can be a bit of a bastard.” Severus said dismissively. Harry smirked and let out a surprised chuckle at his verbiage.

“And, for the record, it is absolutely no trouble at all. It gets lonely here sometimes, I could use the company. Talking to nothing but a house elf all summer can be maddening.” Snape added. Harry nodded as his cheeks flushed with pink again.

“You have a house elf?” Harry asked, briskly changing the subject.

“Yes, I do. Mipsy!” Severus called. The house elf cracked into the room and stood at Severus’ side.

“Mipsy, this is Harry. Harry, Mipsy. Harry is going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Kindly assist him with anything he may need and make sure he is comfortable, okay?” Snape said to the house elf.

“Aye aye, captain!” Mipsy answered with a salute. “Mipsy will happily be doing anything Master Harry needs her to do!”

“Marvelous.” Severus drawled as the house elf popped away.

Harry hesitantly began to reach for a sandwich before pulling his hand away, obviously thinking better of it.

“Please, feel free to help yourself, Harry.” Severus said, pushing the plate closer to the boy. “As the muggles say, mi casa es su casa.”

At that, Harry shot a look of unabashed confusion at Severus, but nonetheless he shook his head and grabbed a sandwich.

“No offense, sir, but this is bloody weird.” Harry finally said. Severus smirked in amusement.

That it most certainly was.

Chapter 5: Settling In

(Harry)

Dear Harry,

I’m really sorry to hear about your relatives. I know that you weren’t very close with them, but I’m sorry all the same. I wish you didn’t have to live with Professor Snape. I hope it isn’t too horrible for you. I can’t believe the way Sirius has been acting. I’m sure if you could just talk to him in person that you guys could come to an understanding. I know he’s just really worried about you and doesn’t know how to say it. Not to excuse his behavior. He’s being a right arse! I can’t wait to see you when classes start again. Keep your head up. Everything will be okay! Keep in touch!

-Truly yours, Hermione

*******

Dear Harry,

Hey mate, that’s wicked about the Dursleys. I couldn’t believe it when Dumbledore told me. They were bloody horrible to you, I’m personally glad they’re gone. No offense. What the fuck is this shite about living with Snape though? I told Dumbledore you could come live here with us. I know it’s a bit crowded but, mum already sees you as another one of her sons you know that. He didn’t listen to me, obviously, or else you would be here and I wouldn’t have to write you a bloody letter. Well, I can’t wait to see you mate. Maybe Snape will let you come over for the rest of the summer and just not even tell Dumbledore. It would be a win-win for the both of you. Think about asking him?

-Ron
*******

Dear Sirius,

I just wanted to say I’m sorry again for everything at the start of the summer. I know my parents sacrificed their lives for me. I know that you lost your freedom for 12 years for them, I never meant to offend you. I don’t want to be this weak person. I try so hard to be strong, and be better, if I could just get some sleep I think it would help so much. I hate to bother you, but I really need someone to talk to. I have never felt so alone in my entire life. It’s hard to be strong when I feel so disconnected from everyone. Sorry. I am not trying to worry you, I’m fine, it just sucks, you know? I’m not really looking forward to living with Snape. But he’s actually been pretty decent so far. And maybe learning occlumency will help me stop the nightmares, that’s really my biggest problem. I’m scared about this connection in my head to Voldemort, Sirius. Nobody is telling me anything about the “accident”. I’m worried that Voldemort possessed me in my sleep and used me to kill the Dursleys or something. Snape told me that wasn’t true, but he also wouldn’t tell me what really did happen either. You don’t think it was me that hurt them, right? Would everyone lie about something like that if I did? I’m sorry about everything Sirius. I wish I could be more like you. I have always admired your strength, maybe you could pass some onto me in your next letter? I love you. I hope you’re well?

-From Harry
*******

Harry,

I’m sorry to say that I don’t really know what to say to much of that…

I am under strict orders from Dumbledore not to discuss too much of the accident with you. He seems to think talking about it will be too much for you to handle and, well, Dumbledore knows best.

My advice to you is to just put everything behind you and focus on the future. You could have a bright future if you would only believe in yourself.

-Sirius
*******

Living with Professor Snape, or Severus as he asked Harry to call him, was bloody weird. Not because he was rude or mean. Quite the opposite. It was weird because of the sheer lack of rudeness or meanness. Harry still didn’t quite know what to make of it. He’d been there for nearly a week without hearing so much as one insult from the man. It was so wildly out of character that at first Harry was paranoid and avoided him all together.

The first two days Harry didn’t leave his room other than to use the bathroom, or have dinner with Snape. There weren’t really any rules, other than stay safe and let him know first if Harry planned on going anywhere.

“It’s not a ‘rule’, per say, but I would like to get into a routine of sharing dinner together if that’s acceptable?” He recalled Snape asking. Harry very well couldn’t say “No Severus, you’re housing me, feeding me, and being weirdly nice, so fuck you, eat dinner alone”, could he? Not likely. It was a reasonable enough request. So they ate dinner together every night, now. Snape would spark up some awkward conversation, and Harry would disappear back into his room.

On day three, Harry’s anxiety built up into an all time high. Hedwig hadn’t survived the accident, which was by far the most painful aspect of this whole ordeal. There had been many bad times that Harry had only gotten through because of her. Knowing the Dursleys never would have bothered to take care of her kept him from tumbling over the edge more times he could count. Knowing she would never understand what happened to him if he’d never come home again.

Snape had leant him use of his owl for the meantime. He had just received his letters that morning from Ron, Hermione and Sirius. Harry just couldn’t figure any of it out. Snape was being way too fucking nice. Sirius was being a dick. Ron and Hermione seemed the same as usual. Snape said he was welcome to make plans to see them, or invite them over. Harry was hesitant, though he didn’t say as much.

He hadn’t seen anyone since summer began. Truthfully he didn’t really even want to see them. Ron was a cheerful bloke. One of the most naturally happy and carefree people Harry had ever met; and Harry knew he weighed Ron down. He would never say that, of course, but Harry knew it was true nonetheless. Ron was a great friend to play quidditch with, to walk around Hogsmeade with, to sit next to at dinner or in class. But when things were heavy? When everything was fucking shite? Ron had a quick temper, a quicker mouth, and limited patience.

And then of course Hermione, Saint though she was, oftentimes acted more like a strict mother than a friend. She would see the darkness in Harry’s eyes that hadn’t been there before the graveyard, and she would worry. She would nag him with endless questions. She would watch his every move. She would try and fix him.

Harry was most upset though by the letter from Sirius. He felt like a fucking idiot for telling him he loved him in his letter. It was true, Harry did love his godfather. Sirius was the first person to actually claim him as their family proudly. Clearly things had changed between them though and Harry felt an incredible sting of rejection and humiliation. He was so stupid for letting himself get attached to someone that, really, he barely even knew.

Was he that starved for affection? That he would just casually throw around “I love you’s” like a little girl? He didn’t even know what love was. Nobody had ever once told him they loved him in his entire life. Well, maybe his mother, when he was a baby. But it didn’t count if he didn’t remember it. Those weren’t words people just said.

He stayed in bed the whole day, that day, and didn’t leave the room once. He let his brain fill with the all too familiar fog of misery and let it consume him. He told himself that Ron and Hermione probably only wrote those letters because they felt bad for him. He told himself Sirius hated him, probably always had. He told himself he had no family, he had no real friends. He had nobody to talk to, nobody that gave a damn about him. He wondered how Cedric’s dad was feeling. Probably completely heartbroken, and it was all Harry’s fault. He wondered what Voldemort was doing at that very moment. Probably torturing and killing a bunch of innocent people, and it was all Harry’s fault.

Snape had knocked for dinner, but Harry ignored him. Ordinarily he would try, in vain, to keep the fog of depression out of his brain at all costs. But that night he almost welcomed it. Everything else had become so unfamiliar. This, he was used to. He was snapped out of his thoughts however with a loud CRACK as Mipsy popped into existence at the side of the bed.

“Master Harry, you is skipping dinner?” Mipsy said scornfully. She had her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently, giving Harry a scowl comically reminiscent of Snape.

“Not hungry.” He muttered, shoving his face in the pillow.

“Master Harry, you is already waaaay too skinny! You needs to be eating dinner! Why is you just laying here in the dark?” Mipsy demanded.

“Just leave me alone!” Harry groaned into the pillow, his words barely intelligible.

“Goodness, Master Harry! Mipsy will NOT be leaving you alone and hungry! It is Mipsy’s job to be taking care of you! If Master Harry does not want to come to the kitchen for dinner, then Mipsy will be bringing dinner to right here!” with another crack she disappeared, and reappeared seconds later with a tray of bangers and mash. Next to it was a small potion bottle with a note simply saying “Dreamless Sleep”.

“Eat now, or Mipsy will be having to force feed you!” Mipsy said rather threateningly, despite her small stature and squeaky voice.

Harry flipped over onto his side with frustration, to face the little elf.

“Fine! Whatever! Damn!” he spat as he sat up and took the tray. His attitude seemed to have no effect on Mipsy, who only seemed to back down a bit when Harry started eating. She stood watching him uncomfortably for a while before Harry snapped,

“You don’t have to sit here and watch me! I’m obviously eating it, see?” Harry said as he obnoxiously shoved too-big of a bite into his mouth, never breaking eye contact with the elf.

“Mipsy is trusting Master Harry… Mipsy thought perhaps Master Harry would like some company for dinner, so that’s why Mipsy is here.” She said indignantly. Her ears drooped even lower than normal and she started fidgeting with her fingers and wringing her smock nervously. Harry let out an exasperated sigh, feeling guilty for both distressing her and lashing out.

“I’m sorry Mipsy. You’re very good company. It’s me who’s shite,” Harry said finally. Mipsy gasped at his vulgarity but he ignored it and continued, “I’m sure you have much better things to do than babysit me.”

“Master Harry, that is not true! Mipsy is honored to be spending time with you! Master Harry should not be insulting himself, so! Mipsy thinks Master Harry is a strapping young lad, absolutely not shite!” Mipsy shuddered while saying the curse word, but had her chest puffed out and her chin up confidently as she spoke, as if demanding Harry agree with her sentiment. Harry chuckled.

“Well thank you, Mipsy. That’s very kind. I’m not sure many people would agree with you.” He said softly while pushing the food around on his plate with his fork, more so than actually eating anything.

“Master Harry should be talking to Master Snape, then. Master Snape does not be thinking Master Harry is shite either.” At that, Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Snape hates me. He’s always hated me. He probably hates me more than anyone else in the entire world. He’s just being nice to me now for the same reason everyone else is. Because he feels bad for me, and he thinks if he isn’t, that I’m gonna kill myself.” Harry said bluntly. Mipsy scowled when Harry finished speaking and ferociously shook her head.

“Master Harry is wrong. Master Snape be telling Mipsy about mean things he used to say to Master Harry and he be wanting Mipsy to find for him a time-turner to be going back and changing things! But Mipsy be warning Master Snape that meddling with time is very dangerous and there is too much to be changing! Master Snape was very sad, but now he is trying to be looking toward the future and being good now!” Mipsy stomped her feet as she finished her speech. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest, but he said nothing.

Why the hell would Snape toy around with the idea of going back in time to stop himself from being an arse? It made absolutely no sense. Why would Snape even care? Did he care? Was this some kind of set up, or mind game, or something? If it were, why would he confide about it to a house elf? A fiercely defensive and loyal house elf, who seemed to genuinely care for Snape rather than most elves he’d seen forced into their slavery, miserably.

When he had poked at and choked down enough food to Mipsy’s satisfaction, she begrudgingly apparated away to leave Harry to his thoughts. That night he stayed up for a while, contemplating, and ultimately decided he needed to confront Snape and get some answers without any more bullshit. He took the bottle of Dreamless Sleep in one gulp and got the best sleep he’d gotten since the Goblet of Fire spat out his name.

Now, it was day seven, and Harry had finally worked up the courage over the past few days for the confrontation he had been planning. He didn’t know if it was necessarily a smart idea. Snape had been being decent, what if provoking him pissed him off so much that he made the rest of Harry’s summer miserable? Was this self sabotage? The puzzle had been eating away at him though.

They sat down together for dinner that night, Mipsy had made a beef stew that was actually rather delicious, and Snape opened the door for conversation.

“How was your day today? Have you written back to Granger and Weasley?” Snape asked with a tone that sounded friendly enough.

“Not yet… but sir, no offense, why do you even care? I’m not trying to be rude, but I just don’t get it. I can’t figure out what game you’re playing at, and, quite frankly, it’s driving me insane. I keep waiting for you to snap or say something terrible. The anticipation is killing me, sir, and I wish if you were going to do it that you would just get it over with.” Harry blurted out. He could feel his cheeks flush with anxiety and embarrassment at his outburst but he held Snape’s gaze fiercely, as if searching his eyes for the answers. Much to his surprise Snape actually smiled. Not his usual cold smirk of bemusement. But a real, surprisingly warm, smile.

“Harry, I understand why you’re feeling that way. I know that I was genuinely horrible to you. If there was any way I could go back and change my deplorable behavior, I would do it in a heartbeat.” As he spoke, his smile faded into a look of sadness and regret.

“I would however, at the very least, like to assure you that I will absolutely not be carrying on with any of that nonsense from here on out. You are safe here. I will not berate you, or treat you with anything but the utmost kindness and respect as you deserve, and have always deserved. I truly apologize for the way I treated you. And I will continue to reassure you of my intentions whenever you need.” Snape said with resolve. Harry just shook his head and looked at the floor.

“But why? I mean, thank you for apologizing, I appreciate it. But why now? Is it because Dumbledore told you I’m a head case and you feel bad for me? Is it because I hurt the Dursleys and you’re afraid of me? I just… I still don’t get it.” Harry continued staring at the floor, afraid of what expression he would see on Snape’s face if he dared look up.

“I am definitely not afraid of you, Harry. I once served in the Dark Lord’s inner circle. There’s truly nothing you could do that would scare me into behaving in any type of way.” Snape said with a scoff. Harry didn’t answer, and he continued.

“I also do not pity you, nor do I believe you are a ‘head case’. You are a child, who has survived many hardships that most adults I know could never have faced. I would not disrespect your strength and endurance with pity. As for the Dursleys, you did absolutely nothing to hurt them. This I can assure you, Harry. Please do not try to shoulder the burden of what’s happened to them.”

“Then what did happen to them? Do you know, sir?” Harry did look up at him, then. He searched Snape’s eyes for any sort of clue to the mystery that had been plaguing him. Snape said nothing for a long time, clearly debating on what to say.

“Yes. I will tell you, Harry. Albus seems to think the truth will be particularly disturbing to you, but I think that not knowing is doing you more harm than any good. Your cousin Dudley was an Obscurial. Meaning he was also a wizard, and he suppressed his magic long enough that it exploded out of him. Killing himself and his parents in the process. Very nearly killing you.”

Harry was truly dumbfounded. If he had had one thousand guesses to what Snape was going to reveal, this would never have been any one of them. Dudley? A wizard? That was impossible.

“Are you sure?” Was all Harry could manage to ask, his voice strained and barely audible.

“Quite. The magical signature from the Obscurus is unique and easily identifiable.” Snape responded matter-of-factly.

Harry felt an incredible weight lift off his shoulders, as relief flooded his system. He could feel his hands shaking, and he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

“I really thought I killed them all.” He said quietly, after a bit. Not quite believing yet that still wasn’t true.

“That must have really been weighing on you heavily. Do you feel any better?” Snape asked. Truthfully, Harry didn’t know. Was it a relief that Lord Voldemort, darkest wizard to ever live, didn’t take control of Harry’s mind and body and use him as a weapon to kill a bunch of people? Yes absolutely. But it did nothing to take away the harsh truth that it was Harry’s fault Voldemort ever returned in the first place.

“I am relieved I didn’t kill any- I am relieved I didn’t kill the Dursleys.” Harry answered. He quickly corrected himself when he almost said he didn’t kill “anybody”. Amos Diggory would probably pop into Snape’s kitchen right then and there if he could to remind Harry of his dead son.

“Understandably.” Was Snape’s only response.

Notes:

Thank you so much for the support on my story! I hope you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I’m enjoying writing it :)

Chapter 6: Occlumency

Notes:

Tw for SH and suicide attempt

(Severus)

 

It was early morning. Silvery sunlight filtered in through the kitchen window, as Severus served himself a strong cup of black coffee. He had been jarred awake hours ago by Harry screaming in his sleep. This had become a regular occurrence in the three weeks that he had been living there, but the previous night had been the worst yet.

Harry stumbled into the room and all but threw himself into the chair across from Severus, looking exhausted and miserable.

“Rough night?” Snape asked lightly, sipping his coffee. The question obviously went without saying. Harry had dark circles around his eyes and his hands trembled as he reached for a glass of orange juice and a plate of pastries that had magically appeared before him.

“No, not at all.” He replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm, as he began tapping his foot anxiously while he nursed the glass.

“Right… well my wards certainly would have alerted me to anyone intruding on my home in the night, so, I highly doubt the screaming I heard coming from your room was due to any acts of lust.” Severus retorted. Harry met his gaze and his cheeks flushed bright red.

“What?! God... No, sir.” Harry answered sheepishly, as he began picking apart a pastry more so than actually eating it.

“Bad dreams?”

“Understatement.”

Snape inclined his head and they sat in an awkward silence for a moment before ultimately responding, “I believe it’s time we began your lessons in Occlumency.”

Harry nodded but continued fidgeting. “What exactly does that entail, sir? Professor Dumbledore never really gave me much of an explanation when he discussed it, just that he wanted me to learn it.”

“Finish your breakfast and meet me in the parlour. I will explain the process with you and then I will answer any questions you may have and then we will begin.”

“I’m not hungry, sir.”

“I must insist you try to eat at least something. While not necessarily painful, Occlumency can be a bit unpleasant, especially the first time. You’ll do much better on a full stomach.” Severus lightly chided. Harry nodded again, but still only tore the pastry into shreds. Every now and then he made a show of lifting a few crumbs to his lips. After about twenty minutes though, he pushed the plate away and walked out to the parlour without a word.

Severus tried not to be perturbed by the rudeness, and called for Mipsy to clear away breakfast. He followed Harry into the other room, where he was seated on the sofa. Severus floated an armchair closer to the sofa directly in front of Harry, so close that when he sat their knees were nearly touching.

“Occlumency is a magic of the mind that goes hand in hand with Legilimency. Where as Legilimency is the art of infiltrating one’s mind- reading thoughts and memories, implanting visions- Occlumency is the art of defending the mind from incoming attack, as well as unwanted thoughts, memories and dreams,

“The Dark Lord right now has virtually open access to your mind. It’s a wonder this connection, as far as we know, only really manifests itself in your dreams, and that you’re not incessantly plagued by his intrusions. During Voldemort’s first reign of terror, he was rather known for his affinity for mental torture.”

Harry shuddered and quietly interrupted, “Like Neville’s parents.”

“Yes, however the Longbottoms were tortured into insanity by Death Eaters, had they been subjected to the Dark Lord himself, they would undoubtedly be in far worse condition.”

Harry scoffed “I don’t see how they could be much worse, they can’t even talk. They don’t even recognize their son.”

Severus shook his head solemnly. “You simply don’t understand the sheer power that Voldemort possesses. I have personally witnessed the Dark Lord turn brains into mush that flowed freely from his victims ears. He is a master of the arts of the mind, do not underestimate him, there are truly no limits to the horrors he could inflict on the slightest of his whims.”

Harry glared Severus down and snapped, “Well, for your sake I hope there wasn’t too much brain mush splashing out on Voldemort’s feet before you and his other little Death Eaters had to bow down and kiss them.” Severus just glowered back with a slightly raised eyebrow before Harry added for good measure, “Cause that would be pretty gross, sir.”

Severus felt the all-too-familiar surge of anger and disgust for the brat wash over him, and he had to bite his tongue forcefully not to spit back any vitriol of his own.

“Yes, gross indeed. I would know, as you’ve so kindly pointed out.” Snape retorted, rather proud of himself for displaying such minimal sarcasm. Harry made a face and slightly scooted away from the professor.

“Okay, so what can I possibly do to stop him then? If he just has years of experience ripping apart peoples brains for fun I really don’t see how I can stand a chance against him.” Harry said after a while, looking down and picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.

“Right now, no, you’re certainly no match against the Dark Lord at all. However, I am going to teach you everything I know. I’m very skilled in Occlumency, somewhat of an expert-“ Snape was cut off by a snort from Harry.

“Wow I guess I’m really lucky, I get to learn from an expert.” Harry said with a scowl. Snape folded his arms across his chest and mentally counted to ten before responding.

“I’d say given your choices, Potter, you’re rather lucky indeed. If you can think of anyone else willing and able to teach this to you, by all means feel free to reach out to them. Until then, I’d appreciate it if you showed me a modicum of respect, if not gratitude. I am your elder, your professor, you’re a guest in my home, and I’m offering to teach you invaluable skills that very well may save your pathetic life one day, free of charge.” Snape fumed. It had been years since anyone had been so blatantly disrespectful to his face. Although he had vowed before the brat ever moved in he would not strike or berate him, Severus hadn’t fully realized how difficult a promise that may be to keep. Harry looked quite chastened, though, to Snape’s quiet pleasure.

“I’m sorry, sir. That was rude. I appreciate you offering to teach me, I really do.” Harry mumbled, fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Apology accepted, Harry. To teach Occlumency, there has to be a basic foundation of trust between student and teacher. Given our… past, that is going to be difficult. However, that trust is necessary if we’re to meld minds successfully.” At that, Harry blanched and nearly started to his feet.

“‘Meld minds’?! What the hell does that mean?! I’m not letting you in my head I already have one evil git crammed in there with me!” Harry shouted. Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head in frustration.

“You idiot child, how else am I to teach you?” Snape growled back. He was rapidly losing any and all patience he had carefully constructed for the boy. “Occlumency is magic of the mind, I thought you at least understood that! I very well can’t teach you the intricacies of your mind if I’ve not even a basic understanding of it!” Severus all but roared. Harry groaned and threw his head back. Snape glared at the brat, feeling his own frustration and impatience growing uncontainable. He could feel himself barely holding on to a scathing rant that would tear the boy to pieces, when Harry looked up at him with pleading eyes and said something that stopped Severus in his tracks.

“I’m scared.”

With those two words- that simple declaration from the child sat before him, Severus felt all of the steam leave his body and in its place, icy guilt washed over him. Of course Harry was scared. He was recovering from a traumatic school year, he just lost his whole family in a horrific accident, he lost his home and all of his belongings; he had been forced into a new completely unfamiliar environment, he was under the care of his most hated professor, he was severely sleep deprived; and now he was just told multiple horror stories about mental torture and told he was to essentially be surrendering complete control of his mind to someone he couldn’t trust and has hurt him over and over again in the past. He had every reason to be scared. Terrified even, and here Severus was losing patience with the child? Because of a few crass remarks?

“I know you are, Harry. I understand. I swear to you, I will not hurt you. I only wish to help you. I know you feel you cannot trust my word, I have caused you a great deal of pain in the past. But I am asking you to please allow me to prove myself to you. Let me help you.” Severus said with sincerity. He didn’t know if Harry could believe him, not really, but still in a testament to the boy's good nature, he nodded in agreement.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

*******
(Harry)

Professor Snape sat in front of him, black eyes boring into Harry’s, knees touching.

“The process is most often successful if we maintain some form of physical contact. Would it be acceptable for you to join hands?” Snape asked. Harry was surprised the man would even care to ask and not just grab Harry’s hand whether he found it “acceptable” or not. Harry nodded and Snape clasped Harry’s hands in his. The professor's palms were rough and calloused, but warm. Harry tried to push back his feelings of awkwardness as Snape spoke.

“Close your eyes. Slow and deepen your breathing and try and relax yourself as much as you can.”

Harry obliged, though he would hardly call himself “relaxed” even after close to ten minutes of deep breathing. He was having a difficult time focusing on much other than the embarrassment of sitting here holding hands with Snape when suddenly he began to feel something poking at the edge of his consciousness. Slowly, the pressure in his head increased, but not painfully, and he had the distinctly unpleasant awareness of someone else inside of his mind with him. Harry found it a bit harder to maintain the agonizingly slow deep breaths with the panic that started to bubble up from deep inside.

No sooner did true terror and, with it, hyperventilating begin, than a cool rush of black water blanketed his thoughts and washed away the fear. Was it Snape doing that? Obviously, in all reality, he was sitting on a lumpy sofa in the professor's living room. But in his mind, it was as if he were floating adrift in a dark sea. He could feel the tiniest of waves lapping at his skin, and smell the fishy salt of the water. The sky in his mind's eye was cool grey and calm. He felt utterly at peace. He felt safe. He drifted through the ocean of Snape’s mind entirely at ease, and then almost as suddenly as the exercise had begun, it was over and he found himself alone in his head once more, staring at Snape back in the parlour.

“That was actually pretty cool, professor.” Harry said after a moment of reorienting himself and gathering his thoughts. “I didn’t expect it to be like that at all. Is that how it is inside your mind all the time?”

“Most of the time, yes... I haven’t necessarily had the most peaceful life. I have often found myself in desperate need of a calm, safe space and after failing to find such a thing in the physical world, I was forced to create one inside of my mind.” Snape said. Harry found himself shocked by the vulnerable honesty he was hearing, and blushed a bit uncomfortably.

“Can you teach me to do the same?” Harry asked quietly. It really would be lovely to escape the war zone he felt he was currently dealing with. But still, he was hesitant to get his hopes up that Snape of all people could ever make a difference… a good difference anyways.

“Yes. With practice, and hard work, you too can take back the reins of your mind, Harry. First we must start with finding a mental image that you can completely immerse yourself in. For me it is water. I have familiarized myself with the element of water enough to channel every one of my thoughts, memories and emotions through it. For example, a distressing memory can take the form of a violent tsunami, whereas a calmer happier one may be reminiscent of a soft babbling brook, or even a light rain.

“You must do the same, though I discourage your using of water for yourself. The Dark Lord is very familiar with my mind and I don’t think he would find it much of a coincidence if he were to Legilimize you. Think of an image that you not only can draw to your mind completely with all of your senses, but that you could also manipulate or adapt as the thought or emotion calls for. The more familiar or comfortable you are with the image, the more successful you will be.”

Harry closed his eyes again and concentrated. First he called to mind an image of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. There was nothing Harry loved more than flying. He often lost himself soaring through the air on his broom, feeling the wind rustle his hair and whistle softly in his ears. He could certainly remember the feeling, the sights and sounds and smells, but how could he translate something so freeing to his darker and more painful thoughts? Even the instances where he’d fallen or gotten hurt while playing quidditch didn’t necessarily produce much emotion in him. His unique ability to heal every injury took away much of his fear long ago. No, he supposed the quidditch pitch wouldn’t do.

Next he toyed with the idea of fire; an element, and certainly able to represent the ferocity of his memories and emotions. However he couldn’t really relate to fire, as silly as that may sound. He craved peace. He craved that feeling of safety that Snape was able to conjure in his image. As many times as Uncle Vernon had used fire by means of punishment, paired with the relatively fresh trauma of being nearly burnt to a crisp by the Hungarian Horntail, he made up his mind that fire wasn’t gonna work for him either.

He tried to think of where he had ever felt the safest. He very well couldn’t say Hogwarts. Closest thing to a home he’d ever had, sure, but he’d also never been in more near-death situations than during his time spent at the castle. No. If Harry were honest with himself, he’d only ever felt truly safe in his cupboard. It was a conflicting feeling. Some of his worst memories were of himself lying alone, locked in the dark for days with no food, no water, and no bathroom. It was lonely, suffocating and humiliating. But it was his. Nobody else ever wanted to go in there, nor could they fit if they’d wanted to. He was so small he could hide and contort himself in the back corner out of reach, where stupid fat Dudley and Uncle Vernon could never get to him. Yes, this was it, he realized.

He could distinctly remember the smell of the musty cupboard. Mildew, dust and sweat, breakfast wafting from the kitchen, sawdust raining down on him as Dudley stomped down the stairs right above his head.

He remembered the darkness both terrifying and comforting. The spiders that used to bother him as a small child, but eventually he grew used to. He thought about his pitiful assortment of broken toys. His only source of joy, and yet his first source of indignation, and the biggest reminder of how little his aunt and uncle cared about him having anything nice of his own. The duality of the cupboard being both his prison and his refuge, he surmised, would work perfectly for this.

“Okay I think I got it.”

“Excellent. Now, I would like for you to pull this image up in your mind and concentrate on it completely, make it as real of a space as possible. I will enter your mind, much like before, only this time I will be immersing myself, not the other way around. When we’re comfortably integrated, I will try to access one of your memories. I will not go digging, I will simply choose a memory on the surface, and I would like you to channel that memory through your image, and push me out any way you can. For me, I can essentially drown a would-be-legilimens in my waters, and they’re pushed out of my mind due to their own self preservation forcing them to retreat. Think of a way to manipulate your image to force me out of it. Do you understand? Do you have any questions?”

Harry shook his head and grabbed the professor's hands, closing his eyes and focusing on the image of his cupboard. Sooner this time than before, Harry felt the nudge of Snape’s consciousness at the edge of his mind. He could no longer see or feel the cold ocean landscape of the professor’s mind, but he could strangely enough feel secondhand thoughts and emotions that were distinctly Snape. At first he felt the ghost of shock, sadness and anger radiating from the man, no doubt because of the darkness of Harry’s mind, but it was quickly subdued, replaced by a forced calm. He could feel Snape begin sifting through his memories as one was drawn to the surface.
~~~~
“This is getting old! This is the fourth bloody night in a row!” Aunt Petunia shrieked. She stood in the doorway of Harry’s room, hands on her hips, tapping her foot angrily. Harry sat on the edge of his bed and peered up at her.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Petunia, I had another nightmare.” Harry said, sheepishly. She grimaced and stomped across the room, grabbing Harry aggressively by the chin, forcing him to look up into her eyes.

“Did you, boy? Did you have a nightmare? Well, clearly you must not have been tired enough when you went to bed last night, otherwise you’d be ASLEEP and not waking up the whole house in the wee hours of the morning! We will have to remedy that! GET UP!! Since you’re up anyway you may as well get started on your chores!”

Harry knew better than to argue, but he was truly exhausted. He hadn’t intentionally gotten up at all, he longed for nothing more than an endless, dreamless sleep.

“Please Aunt Petunia, it’s still only the middle of the night. I’m really tired, I’m so sorry I woke everyone up, please can I just go back to sleep? I’ll do extra chores tomorrow I promise!” Harry pleaded. He was answered with a sharp SMACK across his face.

“SHUT UP BOY! You’re bloody right you’ll do extra chores tomorrow! And the next day, and the day after that too! Your Uncle works hard to support this family! Not that you could ever understand hard work or sacrifice, you ungrateful little FREAK! No! Because of you, your poor Uncle has been exhausted at work EVERY DAY!! Why should YOU get to rest, when you’re so determined to keep any of us from getting any? UP!!!” She didn’t wait for Harry to argue or comply, as she pinched his ear and pulled him up by it violently.
~~~~
Harry pulled his focus back to the cupboard, only now, it felt like more than just an image he was concentrating on. More like his mind was the cupboard, just like Snape’s was the sea. He tried to force the professor’s consciousness out through the door, but it was difficult and, Snape was holding on, not letting himself be pushed out. His attention snapped back to the memory.
~~~~
Harry sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, scrubbing the tile with his toothbrush. It was still dark outside, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were asleep, but Aunt Petunia watched him as she sat at the kitchen table, hurling insults every few minutes as they came to her.

“You missed a spot! Over there! You’d think that school would teach you to use that devil magic of yours to fix your eyes, boy!” She barked.

“Sorry, Aunt Petunia.” Harry responded automatically, crawling over to re-scrub the spot she was pointing to.

“You ARE sorry! A sorry waste of space! I am so disgusted and ashamed of you. Why we ever took you in that day, is beyond me. It’s my biggest regret in life, not dropping you off at the orphanage years ago.” She spat.

“Sorry, Aunt Petunia.”

“They wouldn’t have taken you anyway. It’s a Christian orphanage, they would never allow such evil freakishness around helpless children. Get up and prepare breakfast, you swine. And don’t you dare think for a second you’ll be having ANY of it!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“You’re a rotten boy. You should have died with your disgusting parents.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”
~~~~
Harry, fueled by rage from the awful memory, gave Snape another harsh shove toward the door of the cupboard. This time he felt the grip that Snape had on his mind falter and slip, if just a little.
~~~~
The memory picked back up later that same night. Harry had scrubbed every floor, washed every window, vacuumed the stairs, trimmed the hedges and pulled the weeds; all with no sleep and nothing to eat all day. He had finally been permitted to go to his room, it was near midnight after all. He knew he should try to sleep. He knew all too well Aunt Petunia would keep her promise and the punishment would repeat the next day, and the next. Harry was exhausted, but his mind was still reeling with all of the cruel things Aunt Petunia had said that day, following him around and berating him as he slaved away at his chores.

Usually he could tune her out pretty well. But what with the events of the graveyard still fresh in his mind, he was already wracked with survivor’s guilt. Hearing all day long about how devilish, evil, and freakish he was wore extra heavily on his shoulders. He held a quill in his trembling hands as he re-read the letters he had written for Sirius and Remus.

Dear Sirius,

I can’t take anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I see Cedric’s face and remember that it’s because of me that he is dead. My family hates me, and I can’t say I blame them. I think that everyone would be better off without me, I am writing this letter to let you know I have decided to end my life. Thank you for everything you have done for me, you have helped me this past year more than you know. Goodbye Sirius, until we meet again,

Harry

 

Dear Remus,

I’m sorry that we didn’t have more of a chance to get to know each other. Thank you for everything.

Harry

 

Before he could change his mind, Harry sent Hedwig off with his letters and headed down the stairs to his cupboard, silently. It only seemed fitting to end his life in the same spot where he’d spent the majority of it. Harry slipped inside and sat in the corner, drawing his knees to his chest. He held the blade of a Swiss Army knife to his wrist and pressed down without a second thought…
~~~~
Harry did not want to relive this memory, but he absolutely wouldn’t allow Snape to see any more of it. Feeling the humiliation, anger and shame well up inside him, he used the emotion to charge his magic powerfully enough to successfully shove the professor out of his mind and slam the door in his face.

He was panting from the exertion, but he couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of pride at himself that he had been successful in getting Snape out of his head, even if he’d seen way too much before Harry could stop him.

When he looked up into Snape’s eyes though, any semblance of pride vanished, instantly replaced by embarrassment. He could see the judgement written all over the man’s face. Well, how dare he?! He couldn’t imagine why he was staring at him with that look in his eyes. As if fucking Snape cared if Harry lived or died. As if anyone cared!

“What?!” Harry shouted, defensively. He was already triggered by the memory, he knew he couldn’t handle teasing and insults right now.

“Are you okay?” Snape asked quietly. Harry looked away from the man’s piercing gaze, focusing on the wood grain on the floor.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it, like, at all.” Harry said, bitingly.

“Well, I do… what happened?” Snape asked, clearly not accepting any silence on the matter, and Harry realized he wasn’t going to be able to avoid the conversation.

“It didn’t work, obviously. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Thank Merlin.” Snape drawled, and that comment sent a rush of anger through Harry’s chest and out his mouth before he could stop himself.

“I don’t need your fucking sarcasm, okay?! Don’t you think I’m disappointed too? Nearly sawed my arm off and yet here I still am! Well let me tell you, dickhead, that wasn’t the first time by any means and it probably won’t be the last! Good thing I’m such a fuckin failure, right?”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic in the least.” Was all Snape said after a very long and tense silence. Harry looked back up at the man incredulously, but when he saw his expression, Harry could tell the professor was really being sincere.

“Yeah, well. Then you’re literally the only one who gives a single shit. Sirius hates me now. Remus told McGonagall and she wants to send me to the loony bin. But you probably knew that, Dumbledore told me the Order was keeping an eye on me after everything.” Harry hadn’t realized he had been absentmindedly digging his arm, until he noticed Snape staring and he stopped.

“Harry. I can assure you, many people would be absolutely devastated to lose you.” Snape said, uncomfortably, probably lying through his crooked teeth. Harry just chuckled darkly and nodded placatingly in response. They both sat quietly for a while before Snape broke the silence.

“I think you did rather well for your first lesson. You were able to push me out of your mind successfully on only your third try, which is a feat not many fully grown wizards could accomplish. I dare say you’re a natural… I’m proud of you.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and looked back down at the floor, unable to meet the professor's eyes. He genuinely couldn’t remember anyone other than Dumbledore ever telling him they were proud of him, and that praise only ever came after something truly remarkable, like defeating the basilisk. As much as he felt uncomfortable with Snape’s sentiment, that he felt he was fully undeserving of, it also felt kind of… nice.

Harry had to admit, if only to himself, that Snape had been really decent the past few weeks. He had been conversational, hell, friendly even. He allowed Harry to have food whenever he wanted, going so far as to encourage frequent snacking. He had put up with Harry’s piss poor attitude daily, without so much as a dirty look in response, other than today, but only after Harry had really pushed it.

And now, Snape had just witnessed a horrible, private, extremely vulnerable memory of his weakest moment and hadn’t made one biting comment. He’d actually been supportive. He said people would miss him. He said he was proud of him. Harry felt a tiny pang of something in his chest, but quickly chalked it up to emotional exhaustion from the day. He wasn’t gonna get ahead of himself or anything, but maybe Snape wasn’t so bad.

“Sir, is it okay if I go lay down for a bit? I’m really tired. I got no sleep last night at all and I feel kinda… spent after all that.” Harry said finally, glancing up at Snape as he stood.

“Of course. I’ll send up a vial of Dreamless Sleep with Mipsy.” The professor agreed easily. Harry nodded and turned to head up the stairs.

He looked over his shoulder and said, “Thank you, Severus” before entering his room and shutting the door.

Notes:

I really struggled when I wrote this chapter. The concept of occlumency is hard to write for me, but it’s also an important aspect of my story. I hope it wasn’t too confusing, let me know what you think :)

Chapter 7: Happy Birthday

(Harry)

 

It was midnight, officially the 31st of July, and it was Harry’s fifteenth birthday. He layed in the darkness of his- of Snape’s guest bedroom, and stared at the ceiling, sleep evading him. Birthdays had never necessarily been a joyous affair for Harry. Only since coming to Hogwarts was the day acknowledged by anyone at all. In fact, the first person to ever wish him a happy birthday had been Hagrid.

In the years since, Harry had adopted a sort of ritual of staying up late, and waiting for the typical parliament of owls to bring him a small assortment of gifts and cards. He would pour over them, hungrily soaking up the care and well wishes from his friends, who had always been more of a family to him than his own actual blood relatives. He would read and reread every card, memorize the words by heart, and open his gifts with the practiced care of someone who never had the luxury of taking things for granted. Finally he would hide everything away beneath the loose floorboards in his bedroom on Privet Drive, and go about the remainder of his day unseen and unspoken to if he were lucky. It wasn’t much, but he had always looked forward to it. The tradition was a small reprieve from the misery of the summer.

But now, he doubted a single owl would come. He had never responded to his letters from Ron and Hermione at the start of the summer, too bogged down with everything and not knowing what to say. He knew his feud with Sirius would most likely keep the man from sending anything either, and he’d just never had that kind of rapport with Remus. Sure enough as the hours ticked on, no tapping of owls came. The sky lightened to a milky gray before Harry eventually fell asleep.

“HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS MASTER HARRY!” Mipsy the house-elf shouted gleefully, waking Harry with a start and causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Merlin! You scared me half to death!” Harry said, holding his hand over his heart that was still beating frantically, “But thank you very much for the birthday wishes.”

“My pleasure, Master Harry! Now you best be getting up, and getting ready for your big day! You can’t be having a lie in until dinner, can you?!” Mipsy chided, and Harry reluctantly got to his feet and began dressing for the day the moment Mipsy left the room with a soft crack.

Severus was already in the kitchen, sitting at the far end of the table nursing his coffee. He glanced up at Harry as he entered the room and offered him a polite smile.

“Happy birthday. Did you sleep well?” Snape asked. Harry nodded his head and took his place at the table.

“Thank you. And, yeah I slept great.” Harry lied, trying to keep his voice light. Snape gave him a look that said he knew Harry was lying and he didn’t appreciate it, but thankfully chose not to say anything more about it.

A full English breakfast appeared on the table before them, and Harry eagerly dug in.

“After breakfast, your friends are waiting for you at Grimmauld Place.” Snape said after a while of eating in companionable silence. Harry’s heart leaped in his chest. His woes of the previous night seemed to leave him instantly, and he couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face. How could he have seriously thought that they would all just ignore his birthday? Ron and Hermione were his best mates. They were always there for him, and he knew they always would be.

“Brilliant! Thank you, Severus! Are you coming too?” Harry asked cheerfully. His face fell when he saw a pained look in Snape’s eyes flash for only a moment before returning to their usual cold, dark, emotionless expression.

“I have some work to do, Harry, so I won’t be coming along. However, if it would be acceptable to you, I thought maybe we could go to dinner later, you and I?” Severus asked tentatively. Harry couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment at knowing Snape wouldn’t be joining him at Grimmauld Place, which was still such a confusing and out of place concept. Less than a month ago the thought of going to dinner with Snape would have felt like the world's weirdest joke. But lately, he had fallen into a much better rapport with the man, and Harry had never been invited when the Dursleys went out to eat. He found himself genuinely looking forward to it.

“Sounds great.” Harry said with a grin as he happily shoved another fork full of beans in his mouth.

After breakfast, Harry used Snape’s fireplace to floo to Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley stood in the entryway and pulled Harry into a tight hug, muttering about how much she missed him and how skinny he was and of course a million ‘happy birthday’ wishes. She released him from the hug and thrust in his hand a small pile of gifts, before allowing him to go find the others. Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long while, suddenly very apprehensive of seeing his friends, and of potentially running into his godfather. Of course he wanted to see Sirius, but he knew the man didn’t want to see him.

He breathed a long suffering sigh and ascended the stairs. He had no idea where Ron and Hermione could be in this enormous house. There must be at least six stories. But Harry didn’t mind wandering around and exploring a bit. It gave him a chance to calm his nerves.

When he got to the third floor he heard voices coming from the room at the end of the hall, with the door slightly ajar. He braced himself and knocked lightly before stepping inside.

“Harry! Happy birthday!” Hermione exclaimed as she ran up to Harry and pulled him into a fierce hug. He returned her embrace just as eagerly, rubbing small circles on her back and burying his face into the crook of her neck, her bushy hair tickling his nose and lips. He loved Hermione with his whole heart. She was truly his very best friend. Harry had been so afraid she would judge him, or criticize him upon seeing him that he hadn’t let himself realize how much he had missed her.

Ron cleared his throat and Hermione pulled away, Harry wrapped his arm in a loose hug around Ron’s shoulder, which was happily returned.

“Yes, happy birthday, mate!” Ron said as he clapped Harry on the back warmly.

“Thanks so much guys. It’s, er, it’s nice to see you.” Harry stammered, still riding out the last of his jitters as he took in his friends, searching their faces for signs of what they’d been thinking, this was the first he’d seen them since the night of the graveyard. The night everything had changed. Had they changed? Harry certainly had. Would they accept this new, nearly broken, version of him? The way Ron hadn’t missed a beat, and dived right into a passionate Quidditch discussion while Hermione nodded along here and there, nose deep in a book, just like old times, proved to Harry that yes, they most certainly would.

They chatted together for a while, pecking at the treacle tart Mrs. Weasley had made Harry for his birthday, when they were joined by Ginny, Fred and George. They too exclaimed warm birthday wishes as they settled.

“So, it must be interesting at least for you guys to hear about stuff having to do with the Order… Dumbledore said I couldn’t join, I’m too much of a liability.” Harry said after a while, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but he was resentful. Dumbledore had been cold and distant. Everyone had been tiptoeing around him for weeks. He felt like a child, being kept in the dark while the adults handled everything. Well, in Harry’s experience, most of the time the adults had proved to be incompetent to handle much of anything of importance. The silence and the lack of information made him anxious.

“It really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” said Fred, uncharacteristically solemn.

“The war is bleak, mate. Not much interesting about it,” said George.

“The meetings are mostly just a weekly update on the death toll,”

“For our side, of course. Their side is growing.”

“Thriving, really.”

“Christ, can you two be any more depressing? What the fuck, where’s the comedic relief? You’re supposed to be boosting our morale not ruining Harry’s birthday like a pair of twats,” Ron balked, interrupting them from their morbid back-and-forth, “Be funny or get the hell out!”

Fred and George shared a look of incredulous shock, and Harry braced himself for them to start shouting or throwing hands, but to his surprise and delight they both burst into laughter.

“You’re absolutely right, little brother.” Fred said with a shit eating grin.

“Sorry Ronniekins.” George said with a teasing pout.

“Yeah, well, just don’t let it happen again.” Ron replied, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Boys…” Hermione sighed, shaking her head in mock disapproval and shooting an exasperated look at Ginny, which prompted a breathy chuckle from Harry.

Ginny gave Harry a small smile, her eyes smoldering, and she brazenly reached out and grabbed his hand giving it a squeeze.

“Happy birthday Harry.” She said in a voice only just above a whisper that only he could hear, as the others were distracted by their own separate conversations. He felt a fluttering of nerves in his stomach. He always knew Ginny had feelings for him, and she was a beautiful girl. Her flowing red locks were a brilliant scarlet red, deeper and darker than the orange mops of hair shared by her brothers. Her eyes were so warm and brown, with flecks of gold near the center. He could easily lose himself looking into them. More than her beauty, Ginny was also smart, and kind. She was a wonderful girl, much too good for Harry. Yet still, he found himself rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand that he was still holding, and returning her sensual smile with one of his own. A blush of pink creeped up her neck and across her cheeks as she reluctantly pulled her hand away before the others could see their private interaction.

Harry had never had a girlfriend, or even his first kiss. He didn’t think too often about dating, his life always seemed too complicated to add in the chaos of a love life on top of it. But now, basking in the glow of good times with his friends, a welcome reprieve from the darkness of his mind as of late, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Ginny, most of which she confidently returned.

“Come down for cake and presents, dears!” Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs, interrupting the flow of conversation that had been passing between them all easily. Harry was so happy and relieved to find himself still so comfortable and welcome in their company, even after everything. It made him feel like he really was part of a family after all, full of friends who found him and chose to stand by him. It made him feel like everything was okay, even for just today.

Everyone quickly filed out of the room, but Ginny lingered behind. She walked up to Harry and draped her arms over his shoulders, linking her hands behind his neck. He felt his chest tighten up, feeling nervous at their sudden closeness. He could feel himself breathing heavily, and couldn’t help the flow of self conscious thoughts flooding his mind, is my breath okay? Am I sweating too much? Am I being awkward and ruining everything?

As if she could read his mind, and wanted to wipe it clean of worry for him, she breached the small distance between them and pressed her lips against his, without another thought. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into her kiss, feeling her smile under his lips. She pulled away, placing her hand on his chest briefly before turning and walking out the door to join the others. It was a small, innocent kiss, that for most guys his age would hardly mean much. But the small act of intimacy meant a lot to Harry, more than he’d admit even to himself. Ginny’s kiss was probably the best birthday present he’d ever received by far.

His mood was dampened when he entered the kitchen and saw his godfather sat at the table with the Weasleys, Remus and Hermione, looking absolutely miserable. The only available seat was directly across from Sirius, and Harry thought he would rather stand for the remainder of the day than sit across from the man he felt so rejected by. That hope was dashed however when Mrs. Weasley all but shoved him in the seat and placed a birthday cake in front of him.

“Hey, Sirius.” Harry said in a tone he prayed was nonchalant, unable to stand the silence and distance that had grown between them. This was his godfather for crying out loud! A year ago he had invited Harry to live with him, and now it was like he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room.

“Hello Harry. Happy birthday.” Sirius replied in a voice that was friendly enough, and he smiled. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes and Harry knew it was relatively forced.

“Thanks.” He replied with a small smile of his own, but he quickly averted his attention elsewhere, still feeling uncomfortable.

They divvied up the cake and all exchanged polite banter while they ate, but Sirius left the room quickly without a word, shortly followed by Remus who hadn’t said a word to Harry the entire day. He spent the remainder of his visit with the Weasleys sulking. Ron and Hermione had tried to cheer him up. Ginny had placed a comforting hand on his knee beneath the table. But his mood had been totally soured by the coldness of his fathers closest friends. At six o clock, Harry hugged everyone goodbye, Ginny stealing a quick peck when nobody was looking, and stepped through the floo back to Severus’ house at Spinner's End.

*******
(Severus)

Severus noticed Harry’s displeasure the minute he stepped back into the house. His brows were knitted together with frustration and he threw himself onto the couch next to Severus, tapping his fingers anxiously on the arm rest.

“How was the visit?” Severus asked tentatively, not wanting to further irritate him.

“Fuckin Sirius and Remus are dicks and I hate them.” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. Severus couldn’t help but chuckle and agree with that assessment, prompting a cheeky smile from Harry despite his foul mood.

“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?” Severus asked. He didn’t expect Harry to open up to him so easily about the failure of a visit, but he was pleased.

“They both ignored me the whole day. Sirius finally said ‘happy birthday’ to me after I said ‘hi’ to him first, but it was like I had to force it out of him. And Remus hasn’t talked to me in person in over a year. He couldn’t be bothered to say a word to me today. They both hate me Severus, cause I’m fucked in the head and can’t be more like my dad. I don’t think it’s fair for them to expect me to be like someone I’ve never even met. Why can’t they just like me for me?” Harry confided, ranting angrily at first but by the end of his speech his voice trailed off sadly, barely audible. Severus, without thinking, placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze in a show of comfort. He half expected Harry to shrug out of his grasp and say something biting, but instead he placed his own hand atop Severus’ and squeezed his fingers back.

“I’m sorry they have been acting like that Harry. It’s really unfair to you that people place expectations on you based on how they knew your… father. I must admit, that I have done this aswell. I allowed myself to act cruel to you for years because I saw so much of your father in you. It was so stupid of me, and it’s cruel of Black and Lupin that they are falling into that same behavior.” Severus said to Harry apologetically. Harry nodded and turned a little on the couch so they faced each other, though he did not remove his hand from Severus’, if anything he squeezed a bit tighter.

“Sir? Why did you hate my dad so much?” Harry asked quietly. Every one of Severus’ instincts screamed out for him to lash out at Harry, yank his hand away and tell him to mind his own business. Instead he found himself giving a long suffering sigh, and nodding to Harry with resolve.

“Why don’t we head to the restaurant, and we can talk while we’re walking?” He said, to which Harry agreed and then they walked out the door.

The restaurant was only a couple of miles away, but still they walked slowly as Severus broke the silence.

“I don’t have a very good opinion of James Potter, Harry. However, I would not want to tarnish your opinion. Are you sure you would like me to speak candidly to you of my experience of him?” Severus asked. Harry met his eyes and nodded unwaveringly.

“Please, sir? I really would like to know, if you’re okay with sharing.” Harry said in response. Severus could tell that the boy’s politeness was a mask for the curiosity he could barely reel in, but Severus appreciated his thoughtfulness nonetheless.

“Well, first you should know that I grew up very poor. My mother was a witch who came from a rather powerful pureblood family, but my father was a muggle. My mother’s family did not approve of her choice in husband and disowned her before I was born. She moved here, to this very muggle community to be with him. He didn’t approve of magic and so she stopped practicing it to please him. Growing up in a pureblood household, she had no other skills apart from her magic that she could use to support herself, let alone herself and a child. Once she lost the support of her family, and her place in the wixen world, my mother became very depressed and allowed my father to treat us both very poorly, since she didn’t really have anyone else and needed to rely on him for financial support, what little he could provide.

“My parents became two of the worst drug addicts you can imagine, when I was still a very small child. My father would force my mother to do horrible things to make money to support their addiction. When they weren’t high, they were fighting. My mother passed away during my first year at Hogwarts, during Christmas break. I was the one who found her, she had overdosed. After that, I was left to the mercy of my father who had always been an extremely violent man. He made a show of sticking around for a few months, but within half a year or so, he walked out on me and I had to fend for myself. Even though I had had a taste of doing that already due to my parents neglect, when I was truly left alone at eleven years old I had no idea what to do or how to take care of myself. I never saw really saw him after that. Honestly, it was nothing short of a miracle that the man had even chosen to continue paying the bills and rent.

“My clothes were always dirty and tattered, even when I returned to Hogwarts, it seemed like even the house elves couldn’t get certain smells out of my clothes, and that I believe is what started me being an easy target for bullying.” Severus was rather shocked at his own transparency. He normally was a very private person, always so used to his weaknesses being weaponized against him. Used to being mocked, used to being disregarded. Used to bearing all of his suffering on his own, silently, because truthfully nobody had ever cared to listen. But Harry was listening so attentively, his eyes reflecting such a sincere understanding far beyond his years that Severus felt compelled to speak, and share his story with this child he once hated. This child, that he now knew was his son.

“Sirius Black was the first to start his bullshit, but soon enough Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew joined along. At first it was pranking that started innocently enough actually. I even played along, getting them back every time, with some pretty creative paybacks if I do say myself, coming from someone with practically no background knowledge of magic before Hogwarts. But by the end of second year, Harry I do not exaggerate when I say, those boys made my life a living hell.

“The pranking wasn’t pranking anymore. They would hex me in the hallways between classes with all sorts of curses used to actually hurt me; break out in painful boils that took days to heal, jelly legs hexes while I was walking down the stairs, adding volatile ingredients to my potions when I wasn’t looking causing my cauldron to explode… it just went on and on endlessly, getting worse and worse every year. By fifth year I wasn’t even fighting back anymore, trying to ignore them as much as I could, I thought maybe if I conceded and let them ‘win’ they would ease up. But if anything it made the attacks more vicious and more frequent, as if they were trying to get a reaction out of me.

“Soon enough my housemates caught on. Some tried to help me, such as Sirius’ brother Regulus. He was a year younger than us, but he was very kind and quiet. He became a good friend of mine for many years. He and your mother were my only two real friends at school. I was acquainted with Lucius Malfoy, and Narcissa Black but they were much older, and graduated in my third year.” Severus continued. At mention of his mother, Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I knew that you all knew each other, and Dumbledore told me you fancied her and everything but I didn’t realize you were actually friends with my mum.” Harry said quietly. Severus nodded and smiled fondly.

“Yes, I was very good friends with her. I actually knew Lily before I went to Hogwarts, we grew up near each other. I was the one who first told her she was a witch.”

“Really? That’s crazy! So did you know my grandparents? And my aunt Petunia?” Harry questioned.

“Yes, your grandparents were lovely people. They helped me a lot after my mother passed away. They would sometimes send Lily over with these huge trays of food that I could never finish on my own, not wanting me to go hungry. They took your mother and I to a rock concert in London for my sixteenth birthday. I really loved and respected them. Your aunt Petunia however, was an awful child, she was very jealous of Lily for being a witch, she desperately wanted to be magical. She wrote Professor Dumbledore letters begging to come to Hogwarts, but he, of course, had to reject her. It made her bitter, and then she married that awful man and that took away whatever good was left in her.” Severus explained. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to really explore the memories of his childhood, and of the Evans family.

“She’s still awful… well, she was still awful.” Harry said, looking down at the ground avoiding eye contact after his harsh statement. Severus patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.

“I know Harry. On the bright side, you never have to go back there or see those people again. They’re just a painful part of your past, but your future is so bright, and that’s what is important.” Severus said kindly. Harry looked back up at him and smiled his thanks at the reassuring words.

“I’m sorry that my dad and his friends were so terrible to you. It sounds to me like they were nothing but bullies, I’m ashamed that they treated you that way.” Harry said after a while of contemplative silence. Severus was rather shocked by the apology, half expecting Harry to lash out in defense of Potter and Black but he seemed genuinely upset by their behavior.

“It’s not your fault Harry, there’s no need for you to apologize for them. You’re nothing like them, you’re exceptionally kind. I regret that it’s taken me so long to see you for who you really are.” Severus said quietly. Much to his surprise, Harry wrapped him in a loose, quick hug. He didn’t have time to return the gesture before Harry let go and fell back in step with him as they continued their walk.

“All the same, they should have taken the time to get to know you too. You never deserved to get bullied like that. Nobody does. I hate bullies. My cousin Dudley and his friends used to gang up on me all the time, chase me all over the neighborhood. One time they even pulled a knife on me, if you can believe it.” Harry confessed.

“I do believe you, Harry and I’m very sorry you had to experience that.” Severus replied. He thought this heart to heart they were having was a little cathartic, rather than uncomfortable as Severus believed it would be.

“Why didn’t my mum stick up for you if she was your friend? How could she even end up with someone like James if he was such a prat to her friend?” Harry asked. Severus chuckled darkly in response.

“Well… that is my fault. Your mother did defend me, quite often in fact. But after a particularly nasty prank, I lashed out at her and said things that I could never take back and it ruined our friendship.” Severus confessed as Harry looked at him sadly.

“What was the prank? And what did you say?” Harry asked curiously. Severus wanted to shut his question down, and tell him it would be best discussed at a better time, thinking it would be difficult to speak of one of his worst memories so candidly. But something about the easy flow of conversation they’d been having was like veritaserum on Severus’ lips, and he found himself telling Harry everything.

“It happened at the start of our sixth year. At this point there was so much bad blood between the Marauders and I that I was desperate to do anything to stop them from tormenting me. I started tattling to my Head of House at every little thing they did to me, figuring the squeaky wheel gets the grease, eventually someone would have to intervene and do something. But nobody did. And needless to say my constant snitching royally pissed them off.

“One morning Black cornered me when I was leaving the Great Hall, and he had said he wanted a truce. I didn’t believe it at first, but I won’t lie it really didn’t take much for him to convince me he was sincere. He said all the right things, how sorry he was for always targeting me, he apologized for individual moments that had caused me misery. He really seemed to me that he had seen the error of his ways, and when he invited me to hang out and have a night of drinks and card playing with the rest of the Marauders I was foolishly eager to go. He told me to meet them in the Shrieking Shack that night, to take a hidden passageway beneath the Whomping Willow.

“I had snuck out just after curfew, and made my way across the grounds to the Willow. It was very difficult to get to the passageway, the tree was beating the shit out of me, but after a few minutes I was able to get through. I crawled through the tunnel and made my way into the shack, shouting for Black to announce to him I had arrived and brought beer. Much to my horror, I came face to face with a werewolf. Remus. I didn’t realize at the time it was him, I was so afraid. It roared in my face and knocked me back into the tunnel after lunging at me. I thought for sure I was going to die, I could feel it’s hot breath on my face while it snapped at me. But suddenly I felt hands pulling me back through the tunnel to safety. It was Potter. He had heard about Black’s setup he had arranged for me and came to do damage control before I could be killed and Lupin could be arrested.

“After this event, I was in a really dark place mentally. They had faced absolutely no consequences for essentially plotting to kill me. Not even so much as a detention. I felt so worthless, like my life meant absolutely nothing to anyone. I withdrew from my few friendships, and when Lily finally did reach out to me I snapped and took out all of my frustration on her. I called her a mudblood and a cunt and so many other horrible things. It was not her fault and yet I unloaded years of resentment onto her with my words. Our friendship never recovered. My outburst pushed her right into Potter’s arms and I was left completely alone after that. Which I deserved. I had no right to say any of those horrible things to her. She was my best friend and only ever tried to help me, and all I ever did was cause her pain.”

They walked in silence for a while, Harry absorbing everything that had been said while Severus recovered from the unpleasant reverie.

“Well, I mean, it is kinda shitty that you said all that stuff to her, but you did just almost get eaten by a bloody werewolf, so it’s also kinda understandable that you flipped out. I wish that you could have worked it out with her. It’s terrible that those arseholes ruined your friendship, and your whole Hogwarts experience, sir.” Harry said finally, giving Severus another side hug ina show of comfort and sympathy before they continued walking and Severus gave him an uncharacteristically warm smile.

“Thank you, Harry. Your kindness is very much appreciated. I think that’s quite enough of this depressing conversation, however. It’s still your birthday and we have arrived at the restaurant. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

*******
(Harry)

They walked up to a dingy brick building with neon bar signs illuminating the windows. Hanging above the front door was an old hand painted sign that said “Pizza My Love”

“I used to eat here all the time when I was a kid. They have the best Italian food I’ve ever had. Your mother would always hound your grandparents into getting Hawaiian pizza and it would make Petunia so mad because she hated it. I think that’s the whole reason why Lily got it, your mother could be rather petty.” Severus said with a chuckle. Harry smiled at the thought of his mothers childhood cheekiness. He loved hearing about his mother. Everyone always had stories to tell about James and the Marauders. Most of the time Harry didn’t necessarily like what he heard. He had never been into pranking and meanness, his life had enough violence and chaos forced onto him without having to instigate it amongst his peers. But stories about his mother were so far and few between that he soaked them up like a sponge. He could tell that Severus had really cared about her.

They stepped into the restaurant and Harry looked around. The walls were a cherry red paneling with stapled vines of fake ivy creeping up towards the popcorn ceiling. The floors were black and white checkered tile that was sore on the eyes. The booths were upholsterered with a maroon faux leather, adorned with many holes and scuffs. The tables were slightly crooked and lopsided. There was a jukebox in the corner blaring Duran Duran, and there was a large bar with a whole wall of shelves full of liquor bottles all the way in the back. Harry and Severus chose a booth near the door.

“Do you know what you want, Harry? I’m gonna order a drink at the bar, and I’ll just give them our order up there rather than wait for a server.” Severus said nonchalantly, as Harry made himself comfortable.

“I would like to try the Hawaiian pizza.” Harry said happily, as Severus nodded and walked to the bar. Alone with his thoughts for the first time since this morning, Harry reflected back on the day. Despite Sirius and Remus, the rest of the day had gone exceptionally well. He got lots of gifts from the Weasleys, he had had a nice time with them and Hermione, Ginny had kissed him, he had a long conversation with Snape and got to know him much better, he heard stories about his mum, and now he was about to eat Hawaiian pizza. It had probably been the best birthday he’d ever had. Just then Severus came back, sporting a mischievous grin.

“What??” Harry asked defensively, to which Severus answered with a hearty chuckle.

“Oh you’ll see…” he said, clearly very amused. Harry ordinarily would have been very nervous to see what it was that would make Severus Snape laugh out loud like this, knowing it would probably be at his expense. But Harry knew in his heart it wouldn’t be anything bad. It couldn’t. Not after everything they shared today. Harry didn’t have much time to dwell on it though when the back door by the bar that led to the kitchen flew open with a dramatic kick.

Several heads turned to look at the sudden clamor as a very short, very fat, balding man with a huge handlebar mustache waddled out the door holding a cake with three lit sparklers sticking out of the top. Following the man were three waitresses all singing a very loud and off key rendition of “happy birthday”. They all marched past every other table, and directly up to Harry and Severus' booth.

Harry stared at them in shock as they continued singing, placing the cake in front of him. The other patrons of the restaurant were singing and clapping along, and to Harry’s surprise, Severus clapped along as well, cracking up in a fit of laughter as he did so.

When they were finished with their song, the man blew a whistle loudly right in Harry’s ear, and the chaos was over as quickly as it started. The staff shuffled away as if nothing had ever happened, leaving Harry and Severus to their Hawaiian pizza and chocolate cake.

“What the hell was that?!” Harry finally spoke through a fit of giggles. He had only ever heard of wait staff singing happy birthday to the customers in movies. While it was certainly a jarring and slightly embarrassing experience, it was also very wholesome. It felt really good to be recognized in such a way, and for Severus, normally so stoic and detached, to have orchestrated this for Harry was actually very touching.

“That was real quality entertainment.” Severus said with a smirk, grabbing a piece of pizza for himself.

“That was hilarious, Sev. I loved it, thank you for bringing me here.” Harry said as he grabbed a slice as well. The pizza was pretty good, though he must admit that pineapple and ham on pizza was a weird combination he probably wouldn’t have tried on his own, it made him feel close to his mum while he ate it. They finished the pizza and each had a slice of cake before boxing up the leftovers and leaving.

The remainder of the night was spent with Harry reading his new book on Quidditch teams from around the world he had gotten from Ron, while Severus read his own book on the sofa next to him. They read together in companionable silence, every now and then breaking out in a brief chat before Severus handed Harry a small package.

“What’s this?” He asked, as he opened the gift with care.

“I couldn’t forget your birthday Harry, and I thought you may like these.” Severus replied softly. It was a bundle of old photographs from his mothers youth. Dozens of pictures of her as a little girl, smiling at the beach with her parents, wearing a sundress with a crown of daisies, sitting under a large oak tree laughing along with a young Severus. Harry flipped through the pictures, admiring and memorizing each one. His photo album that Hagrid had gifted him years ago hadn’t survived the accident at the Dursleys. He had despaired over the loss of his treasured photographs, but now Severus had gifted these. Sides of his mother he would have never known if not for the grouchy professor.

“Thank you so much Sev. I really love these. I have no photos at all of my parents, I will cherish these forever.” Harry said thickly, the emotion of the moment present in his throat. Severus smiled at him and patted his shoulder.

“No need for thanks, Harry. I’m really glad you enjoy them. I didn’t realize you hadn’t had any photographs of your parents all this time… I shall try to find more for you.” Severus said. Harry quickly explained to him about the photos from Hagrid he had had but lost, and thanked him again before heading up to bed, completely worn out from the day.

As he climbed into bed and sleep overtook him, Harry knew for certain that this in fact had been his best birthday without a doubt.

Chapter 8: Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

(Harry)

 

The rest of the summer passed by rather quickly. Harry had gone back to Grimmauld Place a few more times to spend time with the Weasleys and Hermione, but he spent the majority of his time with Severus. It seemed like after his birthday, they had somewhat of a breakthrough and their previous animosity had disappeared all together. Harry had spent the remainder of the summer with him quietly brewing potions together, reading by the fire, going out to the muggle cinema, and having frequent dinners at Pizza My Love.

He found himself genuinely enjoying the man’s company. When Snape wasn’t putting on a show for other people, throwing around biting insults and feeding into his ‘scary dungeon bat’ persona, he was actually rather kind. He could be comforting, he gave really helpful advice, he was an attentive listener… Harry enjoyed this new and improved Snape so much that he found himself dreading going back to Hogwarts, where surely everything would have to return to the way it used to be. He wasn’t ready to face a year of potions class with the professor that had always hated him and made sure everybody knew it.

Harry had been trying to work up the courage to discuss all of this with Severus over the last week before the end of the summer holidays, but he was worried that bringing it up would shatter the peace preemptively. The night before the first day of term, Harry was brooding in his nerves and barely picking at dinner, when Severus finally broached the topic for him.

“Are you okay Harry? Are you nervous for school to start back up? You’ve been quiet the last couple of days.” Severus asked, wearing an expression of concern. Harry met his gaze and gave him a small smile before finally sharing his worries that had been eating at him.

“I am. I’m really nervous about school. I’m worried about how all the students are going to treat me now that I got our classmate killed. I’m worried that you’re gonna go back to treating me like shit, which will really hurt me now that we’ve gotten close… at least I feel like we’ve gotten close, and I really am not looking forward to being proven otherwise..” Harry stammered, never looking away from Severus’ eyes, trying to get a read on what the man was thinking.

“First of all, it is in no way your fault what happened to Mr Diggory. We have been through this, but I will reassure you as often as you need until it sinks in. You did nothing wrong that night Harry. Voldemort killed Cedric, you didn’t. Anyone who tries to say differently at school can come deal with me. Secondly, I understand why you might feel wary of our future rapport while back at the castle. I will admit I am also worried. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past couple of months Harry, and I don’t want this newfound dynamic to change either. I’ve never been a very social person, and in the past I have been known to use sarcasm and cruelty as somewhat of a defense mechanism. However I made a promise to you that I would never go back to treating you that way, and I always keep my promises.” Severus said sincerely, placing a hand on Harry’s arm in a show of reassurance.

“Thank you, Sev. I really appreciate that. I’m happy that we’re friends now. I would really hate to go back to how things were.” Harry said as relief washed through him. Severus offered him a warm smile.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I have told Professor Dumbledore that I will not be able to spy for the Order any longer. If I were to do that, there would be no way for me to continue to be friendly to you in public, or anyone outside of Slytherin House for that matter. More than that, I simply don’t have it in me to continue pretending to be something I am not. I’m getting old, I don’t have the energy anymore to keep up the charade. I cannot allow myself to be manipulated into devoting yet another decade to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It’s been my biggest regret in life, that I ever took the Mark. I think it’s time for me to close that chapter once and for all. ” Severus confessed. Harry was shocked at the man’s transparency and even more shocked by the revelation that he intended to stop spying, though he found himself absolutely elated at the fact that Severus was going to stop going to the Death Eater meetings.

Harry had witnessed the effect these meetings had had on Severus throughout the summer when he’d been called to attend. He would come home with a plethora of cuts and bruises, and a deep tremor in his hands that was the tell-tale sign of long term exposure to the Cruciatus curse. Most of the time the man would come home and retreat into his bedroom to treat his wounds on his own, but there had been a few times that Severus was too injured to tend to himself and had required Harry’s help.

“Sev, that is bloody fantastic!” Harry said with barely contained enthusiasm as he clapped Severus on the shoulder. Harry wouldn’t admit the level of comfort he took in knowing Severus would be so much more safe now. He had grown to not only like the man, but heavily rely on him as well. If Harry was completely honest with himself, Severus was the only adult in his life that had ever truly taken care of him. He had been sick with worry so many times that one Death Eater meeting or another would be the last time he’d ever see him.

“Sev?” Harry asked tentatively, fidgeting with his fingers, unsure how to bring up the next topic he wanted to talk about.

“Yes?”

“I know we technically have the whole school year before we really need to worry about it… but I don’t want to live at Grimmauld Place next summer.” Harry said quietly. By now Severus was well aware of the rift that had grown between Harry and Sirius. But Sirius was still his godfather, and had almost as much legal power over Harry as Dumbledore. Harry didn’t trust either of the two as far as he could throw them.

“You don’t have to. Like you said, we have the whole school year to make other arrangements. I’m sure the Weasleys would be more than happy to house you. Or you could always come back here, if you would like.” Severus responded, seemingly nervous about the suggestion, but Harry broke out into a wide smile.

“You would really let me come back?” He asked, trying and failing to read the expression on Severus’ face before he finally responded.

“Of course, Harry. You’re always welcome here. Like I said a while ago, mi casa es su casa.” Severus said with an amused grin. Harry rolled his eyes and they both laughed and continued their meal, sharing some light banter back and forth until retiring for bed. Harry was still nervous for the return to Hogwarts, but his conversation with Severus made him feel much better.

*******
The morning came and went in a blur of rushing around and gathering last minute things together, and before he knew it, he was on the train, soon enough joined by Ron and Hermione, who were currently bickering.

“Honestly, Ronald, I can’t believe you! You’re always complaining about living under your brother's shadows, and here you are, handed an opportunity to prove yourself and you’re already planning on abusing your privileges before term has even started just like the twins would!” Hermione all but shrieked. Ron’s cheeks and ears burned a deep red and the veins in his forehead and neck looked like they were about to burst.

“Mione, what bloody good’s being a prefect if I can’t use my power to get back at the Slytherins?! They’ve been awful for 5 years, now I have the chance to do something, and have myself a bit of fun while doing it!” Ron bellowed as he looked at her with a sneer. She put her head in her hands in exasperation.

“That’s not what being a prefect is supposed to be about! Dumbledore trusted you with this position to help the students and staff, not as an excuse for you to seek out some kind of messed up vigilante justice! Haven’t you complained all summer about us all being left out of the Order? This is a chance for you to prove you can be mature and trustworthy and you’re blowing it!”

Ron muttered unintelligibly under his breath but said nothing more on the matter, and Harry was glad they dropped it. He couldn’t help but agree with Hermione’s sentiment, but he didn’t want to say anything and inadvertently turn Ron’s anger onto himself. Suddenly the compartment door opened and the Trolly witch stood in the entryway asking if anyone needed any treats. Harry stood to get in line, he wasn’t very hungry but welcomed the excuse to stretch his legs and get out of the tense confines of the train compartment.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan swaggered up behind Harry and he felt unusually tense by their presence. Despite having shared a dorm room with the two boys since his first day at Hogwarts, something seemed off about them now.

“Fancy seeing you, Potter. I’d have thought you’d keep out of the public eye after everything you done last year.” Seamus barked. Harry reeled from his biting comment, feeling his heart sink deep into his stomach, unbelieving that the hostility he’d so feared would come from his own housemates, and on the train no less.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry said through gritted teeth. The other boys wore an expression of unfiltered anger. Dean reached forward and shoved Harry aggressively against the trolly.

“You know bloody well what we’re talking about Potter! My mum almost didn’t let me come back this year, because of the shite you’re spreading about You-Know-Who returning!” Dean shouted. Harry couldn’t help but shoot him a wry grin.

“Sorry your mums an such an idiot, Dean. Bet she’s ugly too.” Harry spat cheekily. Deans jaw dropped, and both boys were on him in an instant, tackling him to the floor. The trolly witch screamed for help and staggered out of the way of the brawl. Dean and Seamus were much bigger than Harry, taller and stockier, and though they definitely had an advantage being two on one, they didn’t know Harry was used to being ganged up on, nor that he had learned to pack a punch over the many years he dealt with Dudley and his gang “Harry Hunting”.

“ENOUGH!” Came the stern voice of Professor McGonagall, as a magical wind blew all three boys forcefully away from each other and stopped the fight. Dean and Seamus both sported black eyes and split lips, but due to Harry’s natural healing abilities he looked no worse for wear and had not a scratch or a bruise on him.

“Potter! What is the meaning of this?!” She shouted while waving her hands and gesturing at the two bloodied boys.

“I certainly hope you’re not implying that I started this! They ganged up on me!” Harry retorted indignantly. McGonagall shook her head disappointedly.

“Evidence suggests otherwise! Do not lie to me Harry Potter! You don’t have a single mark on you!” McGonagall roared before she took a few deep breaths and composed herself. “Everyone knows it has been a trying summer for you, but you cannot use that to excuse violent behavior!”

“Professor! I’m not lying to you! I don’t have any marks cause they’re not as strong as they like to think they are, but they’re the ones who ambushed me! All I did was defend myself, I swear!” Harry bellowed, but McGonagall raised her hand to silence him.

“That’s enough. Consider this your warning, all three of you! I will not have you reflecting poorly on the House of Gryffindor by acting like a bunch of hooligans on the train! I suggest you all separate and get back to your respective compartments before you wind up in detention for the entire school year!” She said authoritatively, and all three boys sulked away from each other, muttering under their breaths as they walked. Harry threw open the door to his compartment and plopped onto the seat rather unceremoniously, realizing a bit late that they’d been joined by Neville Longbottom, Ginny and another girl he didn’t recognize with wispy platinum blonde hair.

“Oh, sorry. What’s up gang?” Harry said, nodding in greeting to the group. Neville gave him a shy smile and the blonde girl waved, but Ginny eyed him up and down with a look of concern.

“What happened, Harry? You seem awfully pissed off.” She asked hesitantly. Harry gave a dark chuckle and shook his head in exasperation.

“Fuckin Dean and Seamus started shit with me when I went to the trolly. And of course McGonagall saw and blamed me for everything.” Harry said, folding his arms across his chest, his leg bouncing a mile-a-minute with the pent up adrenaline that was coursing through his veins.

“Don’t listen to those wankers, mate. A lot of people are in denial about You-Know-Who right now, what with all the shite the Prophet’s been printing.” Ron said, in an effort to be reassuring, but the mention of the newspaper did nothing but set Harry off even more.

“Yeah, I ought to sue the Prophet for defamation of character.” He said miserably. The blonde girl piped up then, putting a comforting hand on Harry’s arm.

“My family believes you and supports you, Harry. My father writes all about you in his magazine, and he’s been trying to warn people about You-Know-Who’s return as well.” She said, her voice was soft and floaty, and she had a serene dream-like quality to her that Harry found strangely comforting.

“Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? I don’t think I’ve seen you around the castle before.” Harry asked politely.

“This is Luna Lovegood, she is my friend from Ravenclaw.” Ginny said to the group, and everyone offered their greetings.

“What’s the name of your father’s magazine?” Harry questioned.

“It’s called The Quibbler.” She answered in that same dreamy voice. Harry had never heard of it, but the others groaned and chuckled.

“I’ve heard of The Quibbler… not very reliable is it? Just a load of rubbish about magical creatures that don’t really exist?” Ron said with a smirk, Harry watched Luna’s expression drop self consciously and he punched Ron hard in the shoulder.

“Oi, don’t be a prick!” He snapped, and Ron mumbled an apology. Luna gave Harry a half smile, and the conversation eventually fell back into friendly chatter. Harry was quiet for the majority of the ride, still disgruntled from the altercation with Dean and Seamus, and now feeling even more anxious for how his classmates would receive him. If his fellow Gryffindors were acting hostile and aggressive, how bad would the other Houses be?

Soon enough the train slowed to a halt and everyone scrambled to disembark. Harry fell in step with Ginny, discreetly brushing her hand with his as they walked, but when they reached the carriages, his jaw dropped. At the front of the carriage stood a large skeletal horse. It had dark grey leathery skin, and great big wings reminiscent of a bat’s. The creature was very foreboding, looking every bit like a thing from hell, bred to steer the chariots of Lucifer himself- save for its milky white eyes. There was a serene, almost angelic quality to its eyes that gave Harry the impression that the creature was actually quite intelligent, maybe also gentle.

“What, Harry? What is it?” Ginny asked, wearing an expression of concern as she tried to tug him along by the arm, but he was rooted in place by the startling sight of the creature. Oddly enough nobody else seemed to even notice it.

“What do you mean ‘what’, don’t you see that? What the bloody hell is that thing?!” Harry exclaimed, drawing more worried looks from the others.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked, looking around in confusion.

“The fuckin skeleton horse drawing the carriage!” Harry shouted, gesturing in front of him wildly.

“The hell are you on, mate?! Nothing is drawing the carriage, they’re pulling themselves just like they always have!” Ron said impatiently as he entered the carriage with the others. Luna gave him a look of sympathetic understanding.

“I can see them too, Harry. Don’t worry, you’re just as sane as I am!” She said in a tone that was meant to be reassuring, but Hermione visibly paled.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital wing…” she suggested. Harry ignored everyone and stepped into the carriage, trying to push down his fear and frustration with Occlumency, but he was still rather novice with the subject. He focused on building, fortifying and maintaining his mental shields the rest of the way to the castle. He was already dreading his return to Hogwarts and term hadn’t even officially begun.

*******

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, joined by Ginny and Neville, but the remainder of their housemates sat congregated at the opposite end, as if the group was contagious. His fellow Quidditch team mates gave him half smiles, waves or nods of acknowledgement, Fred and George beamed at him conspiratorially as always, but there were more angry and indignant faces than any happy to see him, by far.

Glancing around the Great Hall, he was rather dismayed to see so many eyes on him. Students from every house were staring at him with sneering and disdainful expressions, some of them were whispering and pointing. Harry felt incredibly uncomfortable. He looked up at the High Table and locked eyes with Severus, who gave him an exaggerated smile with a cheeky double thumbs up, before rolling his eyes and dropping his head in his hands with a dramatic scowl. Harry chuckled at his theatrical display, and felt a bit better. He noticed a short, fat, toad-faced woman dressed all in pink sitting right next to the potions professor, who seemed to be trying (and failing) to engage the man in conversation. At least he knew he was commiserating with somebody.

Harry only half paid attention to the sorting ceremony, still brooding, when his thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore’s opening speech.

“Hello, and welcome everyone to another splendid year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Before we begin our feast, I would like to introduce you all to our new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge. Please, everyone, do make her feel welcome.” There was a dull and unenthusiastic round of applause for a brief minute, and Dumbledore attempted to continue before Umbridge stepped forward.

“Ahem,” she coughed pointedly, “excuse me Professor, if I could just say a few words. Yes, thank you!” Without waiting for an answer, she squeezed behind the rest of the staff and stood herself directly in front of Dumbledore, addressing the room with a saccharine smile and outstretched arms.

“Hello, I am so pleased to meet you, and I look forward to a wonderful year getting to know each and every one of you! I know that certain rumors going around about the return of a certain dark wizard must be so unsettling. I am here on behalf of the Minister of Magic himself, to help dispel these falsities and to teach you an organized, Ministry approved way, to defend yourselves. In these trying times we must simply trust in our Ministry to guide and protect us, and I sincerely hope that I can be of great help to you all as Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, himself! Thank you so much for having me! Cheers to a spectacular school year!” Umbridge announced. There was another weak, half hearted round of applause, and then Dumbledore continued his speech as if he were never interrupted in the first place, but Harry heard none of it.

Umbridge’s words had irked him beyond belief. Sure, it was bad that the students didn’t believe him about Voldemort’s return. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to harsh words and shoves and rueful staring in the corridors. But for someone on staff to so openly deny the uprising of the Dark Lord was just down right dangerous. If the professors all started denying it, chances are that everyone would soon be led into a false sense of security and would be totally unprepared for an attack. Harry’s mind swirled with fear and indignation. After the feast he walked to Gryffindor tower on auto pilot, one moment in the Great Hall, blinking, and finding himself sat in the common room with Ron and Hermione chatting by his side. He was only broken out of his dissociative state by the sound of Seamus shouting.

“Oi! Potter! I don’t know what the bloody hell you think you’re playing at, but I’m not fucking around with you!” He cried, stepping closer to Harry’s chair to loom over him.

“Hey! What the hell’s your problem Seamus?” Neville gasped, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a swell of adoration for him in that moment, resolving himself to try to be a better friend to Neville in the future.

“He’s dark Neville! He’s spouting all these lies about You-Know-Who returning and Dean and I kicked the shite out of him on the train and there ain’t a mark on him! Madam Pomfrey herself couldn’ta healed the black eye I gave him in less than a night, and Potter used some kind of dark magic to heal it before McGonagall could even come break us up!” Seamus yelled. All eyes turned to Harry and he felt a flush creep up his neck and on his cheeks.

It’s not like his ability to heal was an intentionally kept secret, it’s just that nobody had ever really cared when he got hurt. He’d always healed incredibly quickly. As far back as he could remember. Uncle Vernon could whip him within an inch of his life and lock him in the cupboard to die in the dark, and he’d crawl out every morning as sure as the sun rose, listening to Aunt Petunia shriek at him while he served them breakfast. You freak! With your devilish powers! I rebuke you in the name of Jesus, demon! Get back in your cupboard, boy, or I’ll cleanse you with fire!

They’d even made good on the promise once. It was horrible, and terrifying, the worst pain he had ever felt. His eyes melting, his skin charring to the bone. He was so small and so sure that it would be the end of him. And then he just… stepped out of the flames and his aunt and uncle watched in horror as his scorched flesh was instantly restored. They locked him in the cupboard for five straight days with no food or water, after that. He didn’t know how he survived, but he did! It was like his magic had wrapped him in a cocoon of protection, and it couldn’t have been dark. He was a child when that happened, he hadn’t even known about magic yet.

“Come off it!” Neville roared as he stood up and shoved Seamus away from Harry. Seamus reached out and grabbed Neville by the shoulders and shook him hard.

“No, Neville, seriously! We shouldn’t let him sleep in the dormitory with us, he could do something to any one of us while we’re sleeping! It’s not safe!” Seamus barked in Neville’s face while Dean nodded in agreement solemnly behind him. Ron snorted to his left and shook his head.

“You’re a pussy, Finnegan. We’ve shared a room for four bloody years, as it is. Don’tcha think if Harry wanted to kill you in your sleep he coulda done it a hundred times over by now? If you prats are too scared to share a room with Harry, you can find another place to sleep, we’re not kicking him outta no where!” Ron spat, to which Seamus seemed to be stunned with no reply. He stomped away, Dean trailing behind him, muttering about telling McGonagall and the Headmaster and the Prophet and anyone else who would listen.

“Don’t pay any attention to them, Harry. They’re morons.” Neville said, patting Harry on the knee in reassurance. Harry placed his own hand atop Neville's and gave him a shy smile.

“Thanks, Nev. You’re a good friend.”

*******

Their first class the following morning was double Defense with the Slytherins, and to say Harry was unhappy about it would be the understatement of the century. The only hope for the day was that the class was followed by potions, and nothing else. Funny how last term Harry would have dreaded potions, and today he was looking forward to it. He planned on staying after class to chat with the potions professor a bit, he wanted to vent to Severus about the animosity already stewing in Gryffindor tower. Dean and Seamus had begrudgingly returned to the dormitory late the following night, having been chastened by McGonagall and Dumbledore both. However, the boys were not at all happy about it and loudly exclaimed that morning they would be sleeping in the common room from now on. Just as well, Harry had thought. He’d rather not share his living space with people hell bent on hating him.

He sat down beside Neville as the rest of the class filed in. Everyone was chatting happily, catching up on tales of each others’ summer activities waiting for class to start. Draco Malfoy transfigured a bit of parchment into a small origami bird that flitted through the air above their heads as Seamus, Dean and even Ron attempted to shoot it down. Harry had just begun to feel a bit of his uneasiness settle down when the door opened with a bang. It was like all the air was sucked out of the room as everything quieted at once as Professor Umbridge hit the paper bird with an incendio.

“Good morning, class! Now, now, no more of this funny business, tut tut children! Get out your textbooks and put away your wands, if you please!” Professor Umbridge said with a strained shrill voice that seemed to be much higher pitched than her real voice would be, were she not forcing this sickly sweet one.

Everyone hesitated and looked confused, but it was Hermione that rose her hand and spoke. “Excuse me, professor?”

“Yes, dear?” Umbridge responded with a toothy smile.

“How are we meant to practice defensive spells without our wands?” Hermione asked. Umbridge’s eyes widened and she placed a hand over her heart.

“Goodness! And why on Earth would you need to practice using these dangerous spells in my classroom?!” Umbridge questioned, her voice rising a few octaves, if that were possible with her disgustingly shrill voice.

“Uhh… maybe so we can stand a chance when we’re attacked? Isn’t that the whole point of this class?” Harry said, all eyes turned to him as he spoke bluntly.

“Students will be expected to raise their hand if they wish to speak in my class, Mr. Potter!” Umbridge snapped, eyeing Harry furiously. “Who do you expect would ‘attack’ a bunch of school children?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe Lord Voldemort and all of his dozens of Death Eaters, perhaps?” Harry said sardonically, earning many gasps at the blatant usage of the dark wizard’s name.

“Mr. Potter! That will be a detention! My office, 7:30!” Umbridge barked, her face going pale even as her cheeks flushed. Harry shook his head and scowled down at his desk.

“Now, I want to make something very clear. There will be no fear mongering in my classroom, or anywhere within these castle walls if I can help it! You have been told that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, and this is nothing more than a disgusting lie! Rumors spread by silly reckless people who crave the spotlight of attention-“

“They’re not bloody lies!” Harry shouted, interrupting her rant. Umbridge glared daggers at him.

“Mister Potter, I suggest you shut that filthy mouth of yours, unless you want to earn yourself detention for the week!” She was shouting now and had slammed her pudgy hands down on the desk in a fit of fury.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair in exasperation, but somehow managed to keep his mouth shut for the remainder of class. He didn’t flip one page of the textbook for the whole two hours, completely lost in his raging thoughts. Only when he found himself down in the dungeons, chopping, separating, crushing and stirring methodically did his thunderous mood soften, and even then just a bit.

They were brewing a particularly difficult potion today, the Draught of the Living Dead. Harry had brewed it once or twice already over the summer with Severus, so today he welcomed the challenge, praying that it would take him out of his head. Maybe, he thought to himself darkly, he could nick some of the stuff and sleep for a few days, til someone shoved a restorative down his throat at least. Maybe he could nick all of it and sleep forever. Truthfully, he felt like tossing a bunch of random volatile ingredients in the cauldron and letting a cataclysmic explosion take him out once and for all, but he wouldn’t want to hurt anyone else or destroy the castle, so he just straightened up a bit and chose to focus on the task at hand.

Could an explosion take me out, he wondered to himself. Sure, he’d technically survived total immolation thrice already, but could even his impeccable healing powers sort out a blast that would tear off his limbs and pop his head like a balloon? He hadn’t even noticed Severus approaching his desk, as he pondered on his morbid thoughts, but when he met the man’s gaze he had to check that his occlumency shields were still in place, because Severus’ eyes and expression said that he knew exactly the dark path Harry’s thoughts had spiraled down.

He peered into Harry’s cauldron and gave the contents a small stir. He nodded in approval at Harry and vanished the contents, every drop, with no hesitation or argument. He must have noticed Harry’s face drop, as Severus gave him an uncharacteristically gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Excellent work. You’re finished for the day, but please stay behind after class.” He said softly, as he continued on to check the other students’ work. Harry may have thought the man was an imposter, using polyjuice potion to steal Severus’ face, if he hadn’t already grown used to the man’s rare but undeniable soft side. But as Snape made his way through the room, Harry heard a number of biting insults like “dunderheaded fools” and “imbecilic miscreants” thrown about to and fro, and he was rest assured Snape hadn’t gone too soft on them after all.

Harry helped Neville with his potion, though it was a bit of a lost cause, the other boy was well and truly pants at potions. Soon enough class was dismissed and Harry remained in his seat as the others filed out. Ron and Hermione gave him worrying glances, asking if he wanted them to stay behind and wait for him. He shook his head and waved them away, assuring them he would meet them in the common room for at least a little while before his detention with Umbridge tonight. They reluctantly left him behind, and when they were alone Severus sat beside him at the desk.

“What’s got you so morose Harry?” He asked, and Harry wasted no time going on a full rant about Dean and Seamus’ hostility as well as Professor Umbridge’s unfair detention. Severus just listened attentively with no judgement as Harry rambled on and on about his dark thoughts and urges to end himself, or at least break his fists off of his housemates faces. Severus had nodded along, or patted his shoulder throughout his tirade, but never said a word, just letting Harry talk, and at the end of the nearly hour-long venting session, he really did feel much better to have gotten it all out.

“Fuck ‘em.” Severus said finally after giving Harry a minute to compose himself, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at Severus’ simple but agreeable sentiment.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

Chapter 9: Enemies and Allies

Notes:

This is my favorite chapter that I’ve written. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think :)

(Harry)

The walk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom from the dungeons felt very much like a walk to the gallows. Harry was clinging to the nerve he’d garnered from his conversation with Severus like a drowning man would cling to his last swallow of fresh air. Who cares what they think? Fuck ‘em. It’s just a detention, I’ve had a million of them. As he reached the room and shut the door behind him, however, whatever warmth left in his body faded to an icy cold chill when he looked into Umbridge’s menacing eyes. He could tell just by looking at the woman with her sadistic smile that this was going to be nothing short of a nightmare.

“So, Mr. Potter, you’ve decided to show after all?” She purred with her too-high voice. Harry gave her a look that said “are you stupid” without having to say the actual words and he took a seat at the desk in front of hers.

“Well, given your infamous history of ignoring all of the rules as if you’re above them, forgive me for being surprised at your decision to abide by my detention this evening.” Umbridge said while setting on the desk before him a bit of parchment and a quill with a large red feather that faded into a muted black towards the tip. Harry picked up the quill and she patted him on the shoulder.

“You’re to write lines for me, Mr. Potter. I want you to write ‘I must not tell lies’, as many times as it takes for the message to sink in. You won’t be needing any ink. Get started, if you please.”

Harry shook his head, swinging his unruly hair into his face over the tops of his eyes a bit and got to writing.
I must- the back of his hand started to sting- not tell lies. He wrote the line five times before he realized the words were being carved into his own flesh… well they would be on anyone else. He figured it must be a cursed quill she was having him use, or something, but as quickly as he etched the ugly words, they stitched back together seamlessly leaving behind not even a hint of redness on his skin. Umbridge stood behind him and watched angrily as he completed line after line for over an hour, and yet not even a drop of blood managed to form as quickly as he was healing.

“This is impossible, I charmed this quill myself. We should be seeing the bone by now, Mr. Potter.” She finally said furiously. Truthfully, Harry’s hand was aching terribly. No matter that the physical evidence of the assault on his flesh could not be seen, after cutting the same spot again and again he could barely contain the winces and yelps that threatened to escape his lips. The only thing that allowed him to keep stoic and expressionless was the satisfaction he got from thwarting her plan to have him mar himself with her words forever. Her words meant nothing. She meant nothing. Fuck em. Fuck em. Fuck em. He continued this mantra in his head while he wrote and eventually she grew tired of watching her failure.

“That’s enough. Clearly the quill is faulty. I’ll have to tweak the spell, for the future. For now, I will admit, Mr. Potter, I am not satisfied with your punishment. You need to understand, you do not run things here. You are a student. A stupid, arrogant, horrible little boy. You have lied to your professors, and to your government. You have sparked and spread fear to innocent children. You will not under any circumstances be allowed to continue behaving this way! Crucio!”

Harry crashed from the seat and landed hard on the floor, his legs thrashing in every direction while his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He screamed himself hoarse, writhing on the floor, as the worst agony he’d ever felt rippled through his body. It felt like billions of white hot needles pierced his skin while his bones disintegrated into dust. Please God kill me, please, please just let me die. He couldn’t tell if he’d pleaded the words out loud, but regardless the pain did stop then.

“Thank you. Thank you. Oh God, thank you.” He breathed when Umbridge stopped the spell, delirious with relief. She cackled a high pitched, menacing laugh and returned to her desk.

“Oh, you’re very welcome Mr. Potter. Maybe next time you will reconsider it when you open that filthy mouth of yours. You’re all finished up here, dearie. Best get back to your dormitory now.” Umbridge cooed, flicking her wand at the door to release the locks and silencing spells. Harry scrambled up and fled without another word or glance in her direction. But he did not head for Gryffindor tower. Fuck that, he was going to go tell Severus.

He darted, zig zagging through the maze of corridors heading toward the dungeons when he ran into Ron and Hermione making their rounds.

“Harry! What are you doing running through the castle so late?! It’s well past curfew! Where have you been?” Hermione asked in a huff, Ron folded his arms across his chest and looked sheepish as he muttered a “sorry, mate” under his breath.

“I just got out of detention with Umbridge you guys. She’s a fucking psycho, she literally made me carve shit into my hand for hours and then used the Cruciatus on me!” Harry shouted, his hands still trembling from the curse, and still aching from the quill. He had tears in his eyes and his heart was beating out of his chest, and his anxiety only grew worse as they exchanged a look of disbelief. Hermione grabbed Harry’s wrists firmly, turning both of his hands in hers, inspecting every inch before staring at him, wearing an expression of concern.

“Harry, I don't see any marks or cuts or anything on your hands… these are some pretty serious accusations you’re making. Going around telling people Professor Umbridge used the Cruciatus curse on you could get her fired. Arrested even, you could ruin her whole life by saying things like that.” Hermione said sternly, as if she were scolding a child, and that did not rub Harry the right way at all.

“Yeah mate, I know you don’t like her and all but that’s not on.” Ron agreed, and that didn’t rub Harry the right way either. In fact they were both royally pissing him off.

“I’M NOT FUCKING LYING! I’m so fucking sick of everyone saying I’m a fucking liar! I hardly ever lie about ANYTHING! Nobody believed me when I said I heard voices in the walls and it was a bloody basilisk! Nobody believed me when I said I wasn’t responsible for opening the chamber! Nobody believed I never entered myself into the Tri-Wizard Tournament! Nobody believed me when I said Voldemort returned! Nobody believed me about the skeleton horses and now nobody believes THAT BITCH JUST TORTURED ME FOR HOURS!” Harry shouted, clenching his fists to his side. Ron and Hermione looked stricken but he just shook his head and shoved past them.

“Harry, I’m sorry! It’s not that I think you’re a liar, I just don’t see any marks or anything on your hands!” Hermione said, grabbing Harry by the elbow, but he shrugged furiously out of her grip.

“What if I told you you would never see any marks on me because I have a superhuman healing ability that makes me practically immortal, Hermione? I’ve been beaten bloody for years! Cutting myself for years! Almost dying from attack, after attack, AFTER FUCKING ATTACK for years! And nobody has EVER seen any marks on me! What then? Would you believe me then?! DIDN’T THINK SO!! NOW FUCK OFF! I have to go tell a professor about that CUNT and pray they do SOMETHING ABOUT IT!” Harry roared. He didn’t wait for a response before he ran away from them at a full sprint. He didn’t stop once until he reached Severus’ office, where he barged in without even knocking once.

“What’s wrong?!” Severus asked, jumping from where he had been slouched, relaxing in his chair, immediately to his feet when he saw the state Harry was in. Harry closed the distance between them and threw himself into the chair Severus had just vacated.

“Severus, you HAVE to believe me!” Harry panted, grabbing Severus by the sleeve of his robe, looking into his eyes desperately.

“You can use legilimency on me, or veritaserum, whatever the fuck you want, but this is SERIOUS! AND YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!” Harry shouted, tears flowing freely now. Severus knelt down next to Harry and placed both hands on either side of Harry’s face.

“Calm down Harry. I believe you. Tell me what happened!” Severus said as calmly as he could, but Harry’s distress was becoming rather contagious. Harry took a few calm breaths and tried to get a grip on himself before he continued.

“I had detention with Umbridge tonight, as you know. And she made me use some kind of quill that was cutting into my hand! Only the quill wasn’t working the way she wanted it to, it didn’t leave any marks but, Severus, she had me doing it for hours! And then she got so pissed off it wasn’t working she used the Cruciatus curse on me!”

“WHAT?! SHE USED THE CRUCIATUS ON YOU? AND A BLOOD QUILL?!” Severus roared as he too gave Harry’s hands a once over, but the lack of marks did nothing to curb Severus’ anger.

“On my way down here I saw Ron and Hermione and I told them and they didn’t believe me. They’re supposed to be my best friends, let alone prefects! But nobody ever believes me!” Harry cried, not caring that he was fully tattling now. Not caring that he sounded like a petulant little brat. “What if Umbridge does this to some other kid?!” He added for good measure.

“Oohhh believe you me, Harry. She won’t be doing this to ANYONE else, and she will PAY for what she has done to you! I will be going to the Headmaster with this as soon as I’m sure you’re alright.” Severus said, pacing the room. Harry couldn’t help but feel validated and comforted by Severus’ outrage on his behalf. He had come to rely on the man for a lot over the last couple of months, and he was always glad to know he’d put his trust in the right hands. Severus Snape was not someone to be fucked with. He would get that bitch for him, Harry knew he would.

“Thank you so much, Sev.” Harry said, curling up in Severus’ oversized arm chair while the man absentmindedly threw a knitted blanket over him.

“Nothing of it, Harry. Just stay here, and get some rest, I will be back.”

*******

(Severus)

Severus floo’ed directly to the Headmaster’s office, where Dumbledore sat nonchalantly behind his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, as if he had been waiting for Severus to arrive.

“Good evening, my boy, care to sit?” Dumbledore greeted politely, gesturing to the chair before him, inviting Severus to sit down. Severus took one furious glance at the chair and it exploded into a billion pieces, before turning his attention back to the Headmaster and saying “I prefer to stand.”

“Of course. Now what brings you here this evening Severus?” Dumbledore asked, with a slight smile on his lips, and a twinkle in his eye.

“Dolores Umbridge has mutilated and tortured my son. I want her exterminated immediately.” Severus said as magic crackled around him like lightning, standing some of his lank hair on end.

“What on earth do you mean?” Dumbledore questioned as the twinkle in his eye vanished, replaced by something much darker and more foreboding.

“What I mean is, that your ‘ministry approved’ faculty member is a child abusing SWINE, who used an illegal blood quill, as well as the GOD DAMNED CRUCIATUS CURSE ON MY SON!” Severus roared. The windows and floors rattled with his wild magic, just barely contained with layers upon layers of occlumency shields crumbling under Severus’ outrage.

“Calm down, Severus. This must be a misunderstanding. Dolores is not the easiest woman to get along with, I agree, but to claim she’s tortured a student on just the second day of term is a bit absurd. What proof do you have?” Dumbledore asked quietly, peering over his glasses.

“This is no misunderstanding Albus! Harry ran into my office, shaking like a leaf and sobbing, telling me everything that woman did to him! I know Harry, I know my son, he would not lie about something like this.” Severus urged. Dumbledore shook his head and put up a hand to silence him.

“Severus, you’re letting the newfound discovery of your relation to the boy cloud your judgement. I understand you want to be there for your child, as well as wanting to make up for your past mistakes with him. But you know as well as I do the lengths that Harry will go to for attention. He’s had the entirety of the Order watching him like a hawk all summer. How can we be sure this isn’t simply another of his antics?”

Severus shot the man an incredulous look and let a moment of stunned silence pass between them before answering “First of all, I take extreme offense to all of that.”

“I knew you would.” Dumbledore interrupted, sadly.

“For you to suggest that I’m weak-minded enough to be manipulated by a child, related to me or not, is absolutely preposterous given how many years I spent spying for you, not to mention my decade of teaching experience. Second, you and I both know that Harry absolutely abhors attention. His ‘antics’ as you’ve so condescendingly described them, were in fact genuine suicidal gestures and not attention seeking behavior, but I think you know that.

“As far as proof goes, you and I are well aware of Harry’s unique ability to heal, erasing the possibility of physical proof of the blood quill, but his hands are still trembling quite visibly from the Cruciatus and he has volunteered to be subjected to veritaserum as well as legilimency.” Severus said coldly. Dumbledore stared at him for a very long time without speaking, the tension so thick between them it could be cut with a sword.

“I don’t believe we will have to resort to interrogation tactics on the boy, Severus. I will speak with Dolores.”

“I want vengeance, Albus. I don’t want you to fucking speak to her!”

“I said I would handle it! Honestly, my boy, what would you have me do? I can’t very well go to the ministry about her, you know Cornelius is just looking for a reason to have the school shut down, or see me removed from my position as Headmaster. He would not take kindly to the removal of his Undersecretary! Besides, if we did manage to remove her from the premises, who's to say we wouldn’t be stuck with someone much worse?” Dumbledore said, rising to his feet, wand in hand.

“Albus. I am not asking you. I am telling you. Dolores Umbridge will face justice if I have to go to the Auror office and file charges against her myself!” Severus shouted as Dumbledore shook his head and breathed an uncharacteristically dark, humorless laugh.

“And what authority do you have to undermine me and do that?”

“I AM HARRY’S FATHER! I HAVE EVERY RIGHT AS HIS PARENT TO FILE CHARGES ON HIS BEHALF!”

“I’VE TOLD YOU NOBODY IS TO KNOW OF THAT, SEVERUS!”

Both wizards were panting with frustration, magic roaring between them. They had their wands drawn, pointing at each other’s chests. They locked eyes for a long moment, neither of them daring to make the first move.

“I am going to tell Harry the truth.” Severus finally said.

“Over my dead body, you will.” Dumbledore spoke quietly as he twirled his wand thrice widdershins, pointing it at the sky, and then the ground, and finally at Severus where a golden beam of light struck him dead center of his chest.

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Yes, Severus. I have placed a fidelus charm on you and the rest of the Order. You will not tell Harry that you are his father. Not until I deem it appropriate. You will not cost us this war with your foolishness, Severus. Harry can’t know. And now I have taken your temptation away. So put it out of your head, and let me deal with Professor Umbridge. Understood?” There was no trace of the grandfather-like, barmy, old man he had grown used to standing before him now. This was the Albus Dumbledore that the Dark Lord himself was said to fear.

“I have every right to be a father to my child-“ Severus began, but Dumbledore used his wordless wandless magic to remove Severus’ mouth from his face, silencing him at once.

“And be a father to him you will. But he Will. Not. Know! I believe I have made myself very clear on the matter, Severus, and I will only agree to give you your mouth back if you drop the subject immediately!” Dumbledore bellowed. Severus closed his eyes and turned his head away from the man, his fists clenched so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. His magic was barely contained, were he not absolutely sure that Albus Dumbledore would crush him into a bloody pulp and leave Harry fatherless and alone, he would hex the man with everything he had in him. After taking a few labored breaths to calm himself he nodded begrudgingly and Albus gave him back his mouth.

“Now, was there anything else you would like to say?” Dumbledore asked politely as he sat back in his chair as if nothing ever happened, flicking his wand and restoring the chair that Severus had blown up with a silent repairo.

“Harry will not receive any more detentions with Umbridge, or anyone else for that matter. You won’t let me claim him. You won’t let me obtain justice for him. You won’t let me parent him the way I see fit. The least you will let me do is protect him from this vile woman. He can serve his detentions with me from here on out. Make up a story that I’ll torture him extra badly if that’s what it takes to make it happen, I don’t give a damn, but you will make it happen.” Severus said, his voice was dangerously low and filled with so much venom that the words even tasted bitter on his tongue.

“That sounds very reasonable, Severus. If that is all, you may leave.”

Severus stormed out of the room without another word or so much as a glance in the man’s direction. As he marched his way to the dungeons, he felt an indignant rage swirling inside him that he hadn’t felt in years.

Long ago, Severus had grown used to being forced to grovel at the Dark Lord’s feet. Kneeling before him, kissing the hem of his robes while begging to serve him and only him. He had been doing it since he was seventeen years old, and he had expected to be doing it forever, until just a week ago. It was a humiliating, degrading part of his job that he resented and despised, of course, but he had always gotten through it because it had always been a farce.

After his first Death Eater meeting, almost the instant he had been branded with the Dark Mark, Severus knew the Dark Lord was not, nor would he ever be, his master. He could play the part, sure, and face retribution for the mistakes he made aligning himself with the madman, but he had always known, deep in his heart, that he was nobody’s actual servant.

That was, until the night Lily died. And then he realized he did have a master after all, and he was but a puppet on a string. A pawn in a game. A soldier in a war. A piece of a puzzle. Severus most certainly had a cruel, all powerful master, and his name was Albus Dumbledore.

As Severus made his way back into his quarters, he wasn’t surprised to see Harry was still awake, though it was well after midnight by now.

“How did it go?” Harry asked tentatively, his nerves written across his face. Severus made his way somberly across the room to the liquor cabinet.

“We have much to discuss. Would you like a drink, Harry? I need whiskey.”

“Hell yeah!” Harry shouted eagerly and Severus shot him an unimpressed look, but poured him three fingers worth regardless. Double that for himself.

They sat quietly, nursing their drinks for a while before anyone spoke. Severus was both impressed and concerned to see how expertly Harry seemed to handle his whiskey, as if this weren’t his first time drinking the stuff by any means. He would have to explore that later.

“I need you to be honest with me. Do you trust me?” Severus finally asked, looking Harry in his eyes. Trying to impress his urgency, his sincerity and his need for the boy’s confidence with just his gaze.

“Of course I do. You should know I do by now.” Harry said quickly with not a hint of doubt visible in his expression. Severus felt relief wash over him at Harry’s reassurance. He leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and his fingers under his chin.

“Thank you… I want us to be a united front, Harry. We have many enemies, between the two of us. We need to work together now more than ever.” Severus said seriously. He expected Harry to laugh, or make some sarcastic comment to break the tension, not catching the weight of his words. But Harry, ever surprising him, simply nodded and extended his glass towards Severus.

“Cheers to you and me, Sev. To the bitter end.”

“You and me, to the end. Always.”

They both took a healthy gulp of their drinks, watching the fire burning in the hearth. Harry must have sensed Severus’ grim mood and didn’t push, though Severus knew the boy must be burning with curiosity. Severus emptied his glass and topped it off again before he continued.

“Harry… I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid we can no longer trust Professor Dumbledore.” Severus said quietly, his low voice barely audible over the crackling fire. Harry looked up at him sadly, and nodded in agreement.

“I haven’t trusted that man for a very long time.” He confessed. This was a surprise to Severus. He had always thought the boy to be rather close to the old man, but he could see now a darkness in Harry’s eyes that shot that assumption right out of the sky.

“He’s the one who left me at the Dursley’s. I don’t know if you knew that. I told him everything during my first year, I told him about the beatings, I told him about the cleansing, I told him about the starving and the cupboard. I told him everything, Sev. And he just sent me back. I don’t know if I’ve ever trusted Dumbledore, now that I actually think about it. Respected and feared the hell out of him, but trust him? Not once I’d come to actually know him.” This was the most that Harry had ever said out loud about his experience living with the Dursleys. Severus had only ever caught glimpses of the memories Harry had of his time there during occlumency lessons. That had been enough to make Severus realize Harry had been abused, neglected and traumatized, but he would most likely never know the full extent of it. He had no idea what cleansing meant, but his blood boiled with upset for his child.

His boy, who had been made to face so much cruelty, for so long- much of which spouted from Severus’ own horrible mouth. So incredibly much older in his soul than a boy his age ought to be. He looked at Harry now, mourning the child he was never given a chance to know. How different things could have been, for the both of them.

Severus would have given him everything. Anything he could have wanted. And oh, what Harry could have given him in return… so many sleepless nights could have been remedied, had he a sleepy toddler who needed tucking in and cuddling. So many times that fear and weakness alone had kept Severus from plummeting off the very edge, when he could have been anchored to this earth by a small boy who loved him and needed him. So much grief, for the woman he loved and lost, could have been shared with their son who had grieved her too all alone, for so long. And for what? Plots and schemes and puzzles and plans and manipulations and orders from Albus Dumbledore.

“I’m so very sorry Harry. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am…” Severus said, his voice rough from the emotions stuck in his throat, and from the alcohol.

“Albus Dumbledore has hurt me too. He has hurt me more than any other person on this Earth ever has. Tonight when I went to speak to him, Harry, he placed a fidelus charm on me preventing me completely from telling you something important that he desperately hasn’t wanted you to know.

“I had planned on disobeying him and telling you anyway, but I could never find the words. I don’t tell you this because I want to make you nervous, Harry. It was something good, actually. Something really good. It doesn’t matter, I guess. It changes nothing, I wish I’d have said something when I had the chance, but I’m going to find a way to break this fucking charm if it’s the last thing I do. The bastard took my mouth away, too. He just… fucking spelled my whole mouth off, and threatened to never give it back. He likes to do that when he’s angry with me.

“Worse than all that, however, he also plans on doing nothing about Umbridge, and has expressly forbidden me from doing anything either. I have arranged it so any future detentions you receive will be with me, but that’s the extent of which Dumbledore has agreed to help me with. I am not letting this go by any means, Harry, I simply will have to act behind the Headmaster’s back.” Severus rambled while he drank, topping off his own glass as well as Harry’s often.

Harry kept up easily, and listened attentively. It was surreal, drinking like this with the boy. Severus wondered what kind of drunk Harry would be. Would he be angry like Severus’ father had always been? Would he be playful and fun like Lily? Severus tended to get sad and philosophical, himself.

“I fucking hate that man, and everything he has gotten away with doing to us.” Harry said after a while, his eyes glistening, red rimmed and bloodshot. He stared, expressionless just gazing into the fire, before a sly, scathing grin creeped across his face. So he was an angry drunk after all.

“Fuck ‘em though. Like you said. Dumbledick is an arsehole. We’re way better than he is. We’ll get that Umbitch and we’ll break through his stupid charm and we’re gonna be the ones with the last laugh in the end, Sev. Just you wait.” Harry said, his words slurring only slightly as he sat forward and grabbed Severus’ hand. Angry, mischievous, philosophical and inspiring drunk. Severus found he didn’t mind that at all.

“You’re damn right.”

They sat for a while, polishing off the rest of the bottle and Harry stood to open another. Severus said nothing as the boy pressed a fresh glass into his hand. He just took it and sipped.

“Is there something else? I can tell there’s something else.” Harry said finally, and Severus inclined his head with one slow nod of affirmation, unsure of where to start.

“I suppose I should tell you, before I no longer can. I took the Dark Mark when I was seventeen years old, Harry. I was so unhappy, I had no friends, only acquaintances pushing me to join the Dark Lord’s cause. I was distraught over the death of my mother, left alone at the mercy of my drunk, abusive father. I lost sight of the good of the world for just a moment. Such a brief moment of loathing everyone and everything, and it ruined my whole life. The second the Dark Lord’s wand touched my skin, I knew I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

“I didn’t attend any meetings after that. I hid from everyone. I tried to cut the mark off and it came right back as soon as the wound healed. I tried and failed to kill myself. And then I did the only thing, at the time, that I could think of. I went to Dumbledore. If anyone could have gotten me out of that mess, it would be him, I thought. I was wrong, Harry.

“You see, Dumbledore did not offer me any kind of salvation. He ordered me to spy for him. He told me the only redemption I could ever find would be through the information I could relay to him for the resistance. I did my part dutifully, convincing myself if I could just do well enough to appease Dumbledore, surely he would eventually get me out of all of this. I was wrong. I practiced occlumency all hours of the day and night, filing away whatever information I thought could be useful to the man without giving myself away to the Dark Lord.

“Nothing was ever enough. Until one day, Albus came to me with a specific job. Dumbledore had told me once he received a prophecy from Sybil Trewlany telling him there would come a time where he would be an integral factor in a war against good and evil. With the rise of the Dark Lord, he was sure that his time was coming. He grew obsessed with receiving another prophecy from the woman. Cornering her in the corridors, inviting her out to drink every weekend.

“One evening, I was drinking alone at the Hog’s Head when none other than Albus himself walked through the door, of course he was arm in arm with Trewlany. I moved to leave the bar and give the two some privacy when I felt Albus enter my mind and tell me to stay put. So I did. It was a long time before anything happened, but sure enough, that was the night Albus had been waiting for and he got his damned prophecy.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…”

“There was more that I never got a chance to hear. Dumbledore had placed a muffling charm on me when he had thought I’d heard enough. Once Dumbledore got the information he wanted he was quick to leave, but not before he shouted into my mind very clearly “Tell him. Tell Voldemort what you’ve heard tonight.”

Severus took another long sip from his glass, watching Harry, trying to gauge his reaction. He’d half expected the boy to be shouting and throwing things by now. He had just learned that Severus himself had given this prophecy to the Dark Lord. Setting in motion everything that had gotten the boy’s parents killed that night.

But Harry said nothing, just sipping his drink and waiting for Severus to continue, so he did.

“I told the Dark Lord of the prophecy and the madman was so, so, very pleased. He was the one to inform me that he only knew of two wizarding families in the area expecting a child at the end of that July. The Longbottoms, and the Potters. I had instantly dropped to my knees, shamelessly begging and groveling to him, please please spare the Potters. I loved your mother so much Harry. She was my closest friend. My only true friend. I loved her more than I loved my own life.

“To know I had foolishly given information that would take the life of the only person in this world I had ever loved, shattered my heart and my pride that day. I didn’t give a damn about keeping my cover. I begged the Dark Lord to spare her and he eventually said he would consider it.

“I wasted no time running back to Albus to plead to him as well. Only he never agreed to save her. He had told me that the prophecy could not be stopped, changed or ignored. I shouted at him, I kissed his feet, I brandished my wand at him, I brandished it at myself… nothing I said or did was enough. He told me the prophecy was absolute and he could not interfere. He told me to look at the bright side, that this war would be over soon. That either you, or the Longbottom boy would vanquish Voldemort once and for all, now that he knew where to go. Nevermind that you would be an infant. If the prophecy foretold it, it had to be right.

“It was a year and a half before the Dark Lord made his move. Plenty of time to protect you all, or move you, but of course Albus wouldn’t. That whole time I played the good little Death Eater, doing anything and everything expected of me. But then, your mother was killed, the Dark Lord was vanquished, and my life was void of anything.

“I went to your house that night. I cried, holding your mothers body. I almost grabbed you and ran, but I was poor and practically homeless, and I felt so guilty that it was I who passed on the information that allowed this to happen. I didn’t take you, and I should have, and I am so sorry for everything Harry. I am so fucking sorry Harry James Potter, for what I’ve done to you, and to your beautiful mother… and to your… father. If I could trade my life to bring them back, I would do it in a heartbeat.” Severus’ tears were flowing freely now. Years of guilt pouring out of his tired eyes, as he bared his soul to the only person left alive he gave a damn about.

Harry was crying too. He stood, and Severus nearly flinched, expecting rage, violence, hatred, shouting. Expecting anything other than what he actually did, which was storming across the room and throwing himself into Severus’ trembling arms, holding him in a fierce embrace and burying his face into Severus’ chest.

They stood for a long moment, holding each other, trying to console one another’s wracking sobs.

“It’s okay Severus, it’s not your fault.” Harry repeated, while Severus just apologized ferociously again and again and again.

Severus wished he could tell his son how proud he was of him. Could tell him that his heart ached and bled with the love he had for him. He wished he could go back and change everything, fight harder, fight smarter, hide them away from everything that has caused them so much pain for all these years.

But the fidelus charm kept his mouth shut tight, as if Dumbledore had never given it back after all. There was no way for Severus to say all that he wanted to say, so he said what he could get away with instead.

“Harry, I am so sorry. Your father loved you so much. Your father wished he could have been there, could have stopped every terrible thing that has happened to you. Your father would have given you the world, if the world hadn’t kept you apart. I could never apologize enough. For all that I’ve taken from you. Just know your mother and your father loved and still love you more than anything in this world.”

Chapter 10: Dreamless Sleep

Notes:

Tw: sexual abuse
This chapter is heavy. Some of the content mentioned in this chapter will also be referenced throughout the rest of the story, so mind the warning <3

(Dudley)

It was always the same. Everyday the exact same as the day before, just as cold, confusing and dark as it had always been since Lord Voldemort had whisked Dudley away to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. He would wake up, head spinning, longing for the smell of bacon to fill the air, but instead he was met with the putrid odor of his own stench. He would cry and whimper alone for a while until someone would enter the cell and hit him with that same spell, right between the eyes. Imperio. Dudley didn’t know what it meant or what it did. All he knew was that he hated it and he loved it.

Dudley hated the Imperius curse because it made him lose all semblance of control. He no longer had any power at all over his own body, or his thoughts. Every move he made was an order he had no way to refute. His words were no longer his own, not that the Death Eaters would really allow him to speak anyway. If he did, it certainly wasn’t of his own volition. They would force him to do unspeakable things. Embarrassing things. Violent things. And he was totally helpless to stop any of it at all.

Dudley loved the Imperius curse because under its power was simply the best he had ever felt. It would fill his brain with a perfect fog of euphoria and submission. It didn’t matter that he was forced to do whatever they said, because he desperately wanted to. It made him feel like there was nothing else in the world more that he wanted than to please these people and abide by their every whim. When he finished a task they’d set for him to do; whether it was sucking one of them off, or killing a ‘muggle’ as they called them, the waves of satisfaction that would ripple through his mind after a job well done were intoxicating.

This was the life that Dudley Dursley had come to know over the last three months. Dark. Cold. Putrid. Subservient.

Some of the Death Eaters were better than others. A woman named Bellatrix was pleasant. She never cast Imperio on him, and had only ever made him kill once. It was a pregnant woman, and it was horrible, and he vomited and cried, but afterwards, Bellatrix held him and ran her fingers through his dirty hair. She didn’t say anything mean, or call him names. She didn’t scrunch her nose at his filth. It was the only bit of kindness he’d received since he came here and he absolutely longed for it.

“Do you miss your mummy, Duddykins?” She would purr, stroking his hair and rocking him back and forth, gently, like you would a baby. “I’m your mummy now, Duddy. Shhh mummy’s got you.” Bellatrix would never have to put the Imperius curse on him, Dudley would do anything she wanted him to do, with a smile. Anything.

The worst of the lot was Lucius Malfoy, the Lord of the Manor where they all were living. He was especially cruel. He would barge into Dudley’s cell and pin him to the wall with his fly already undone without even casting the Imperio. He would have Dudley kill three or four muggles back to back on the days where he was in charge. It was by Lucius Malfoy’s wand that Dudley was first introduced to the Cruciatus curse. That was the day he realized he would do absolutely anything that Lucius asked as well, Imperio or not. Not for the same reasons as with Bellatrix, but still…Anything.

Sometimes Dudley would lay awake at night and work on developing telekinesis or the Force, or anything at all that could help him out of this mess. He knew nothing about magic, but he had seen all of the Star Wars movies, and he had stayed up late once and watched the second half of Carrie. There had to be some kind of truth to the films, Dudley figured. From what he’d seen of magic in his life already, there seemed to be no bounds or restrictions. If he could just use the Force to crush their skulls…If he could just use telekinesis to get a message to Harry, maybe he could get Dudley out of here!

Harry, please, if you’re out there I need you now! I’m so sorry! So so so so sorry! For everything I’ve ever done to you. For everything my parents did to you. Please help me, Harry! I’m in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor! I will do ANYTHING if you just get me out of here Harry! Anything anything anything please please PLEASE!

And he would. He would. do. anything. If he could just be free of this place, free of these people. Sometimes he thought the telekinesis was beginning to work. If he called out for Harry too loudly in his mind, sometimes a Death Eater would come crashing in right that instant, yelling for him to shut up, they’d cast Imperio on him and they’d leave him alone, to desire nothing more than sitting quietly with an empty head. They must have been too stupid to realize that all this did was encourage him. Prove to him that it was working, and all he needed was to try harder and stick it out a little longer.

And so, soon enough, praying to Harry by night became part of the routine. Wake up. Cry. Imperio. Servicing. Killing. Praying. Repeat. This was his life now. This is what he’d been reduced to. His only hope was the boy he’d spent his whole life tormenting or ignoring. It would only be his karma for Harry to ignore Dudley now, in return, but he knew that Harry wasn’t like that. Harry was kind. He was strong. He was a good person, and a powerful wizard. He would help him, Dudley knew. If he heard him, he would help. So Dudley just kept screaming in his mind. Every thought that was in his own control became an endless mantra of ‘please, Harry, save me’, hoping with all of his heart that the boy would hear him eventually.

*******

(Harry)

Harry woke with a start, blood rushing in his ears, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, heart threatening to pound right out of his chest. This was the third night in a row that Harry had woken from a dead sleep because of the nightmares. They were different this time around however, than the usual dreams that plagued him. Usually they were all the same, all about Cedric’s dead body, and his parents. That was it. But lately every single nightmare he had featured his cousin Dudley, bleeding and bruised and filthy in a dungeon, begging for Harry to save him. It didn’t make any sense. He knew the Dursleys died, but he didn’t harbor any guilt for their deaths like he did with Cedric. Not after Severus told him about Dudley’s Obscurus. Yet every night he would awaken from these dreams with such an intense feeling of urgency and panic, like nothing he’d ever felt before, not even in the graveyard.

Harry quietly pulled his invisibility cloak over himself and walked out of Gryffindor tower, heading for the dungeons. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to meander over to Severus’ private quarters, but when he reached the door, he only needed to knock once before Severus opened up and let him in, even despite the obnoxiously early hour. Harry wondered if the man ever really slept.

“Good morning. I’d ask how you slept, but I can tell just by looking at you that it must have been fitful at best.” Severus said, pouring them each a cup of coffee. Harry looked at the clock on the mantle, it was just after 4am, and he blushed slightly, feeling embarrassed at having intruded on the man. But Severus didn’t seem to mind, so Harry threw himself into one of the man’s overly stuffed arm chairs and sipped his coffee gratefully.

“I hardly slept at all. Nightmares have been keeping me up for days and I’m going mad.” Harry said, running a hand through his disheveled hair exasperatedly.

“We need to resume your occlumency lessons. Clearing your head before bedtime and fortifying your mental walls will help with the nightmares. Until then I can give you some Dreamless Sleep, but it won’t help long term. You can only take it on a schedule of three nights on, one week off.” Severus said, putting on his Professor voice he adopted when lecturing or explaining things.

“Why?” Harry asked groggily, not willing to admit that the professor’s deep low voice was just soothing enough to lull him to sleep better than the Dreamless Sleep probably would. No wonder he had always done so poorly in potions class. Not because he hated potions, he actually enjoyed the process of brewing. But Severus’ melodic voice, paired with the darkness of the dungeons and the floral fumes wafting off of the simmering cauldrons made for a rather perfect environment for sleeping.

“The main ingredient, purple loosestrife, is incredibly addictive. Not only that, but the other ingredients could build in your system over time, creating a high tolerance for the potion rendering it basically usele- are you listening to a single word I’m saying?!” Harry jumped from the sudden harshness of Severus’ tone and nodded his head stupidly.

“‘Course I’m listening, Sev! How dare you even ask me that?” Harry said indignantly, barely stifling a yawn. Severus rolled his eyes and sat across from Harry with a smirk.

“You’re right, how foolish of me. I should have known that the great Harry Potter always has one eye and one ear open.” Severus teased.

“Yeah well, all’s forgiven. Just don’t forget it in the future. Constant vigilance and all that.”

“How could I have been so foolish to expect anything less from the Chosen One?”

“Even really smart blokes like you make mistakes every now and then, don’t be too hard on yourself, Sev.” Harry grinned mischievously at Severus, who he was glad to see was looking quite amused himself.

“Yes, well… anyways. Tonight I will give you some Dreamless Sleep, it wouldn’t do any good to take it now unless you wish to be unconscious for the remainder of the day and completely ruin your sleep schedule.” Severus said, back to business.

“I think my brain is spiraling so badly right now that ten Dreamless Sleeps couldn’t put me down.” Harry said, scrubbing his face with both hands.

“Ten Dreamless Sleep potions could take down a fully grown dragon.”

“Yeah but don’t dragons have really small pea-brains? I doubt they have half as many worrying thoughts as I do. No offense to the dragons.”

“Bold assumption, Harry. I’m sure the dragons have plenty to worry about.”

Harry chuckled and the two sat together in an amiable silence for a while, drinking their coffee. It must have been some kind of espresso or something, because when Harry finished his cup he found himself no longer tired at all, somewhat energized even.

“I do believe additional occlumency training will help. Would you want to come here once a week to resume lessons?” Severus asked finally. Harry nodded.

“Yeah that sounds like a good idea. I can come Saturday nights?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow night then, at 7:30.” Severus said as they both headed toward the door. It was 5:30 now, still much too early to go to the Great Hall for breakfast, but Harry still had to return to the Tower and get dressed for the day, and Severus had a potion to brew before his first class, so they said their goodbyes and parted ways. Harry felt much better and more relaxed than he had just an hour ago, however, with his disturbing dreams mostly put out of his mind for now.

On Fridays Harry had a free period in the mornings, followed only by Transfiguration and Charms. He excelled in both classes, so he was in a relatively good mood, getting ready for an easy day and looking forward to a much needed potions-aided sleep tonight. His high spirits were immediately crushed, however, when he saw that Dean and Seamus were waiting for him the moment he stepped through the portrait back into the common room

“Where have you been so early in the morning, Potter?” Seamus spat, arms folded across his chest while Dean stood huffing behind him with his hands on his hips.

“What’s it to you two?” Harry asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at the pair “You’ve no authority over me, Seamus, you’re not my mother.”

“You’re lucky I’m not! You would have been sent to a group home for troubled teens years ago.” Seamus said stupidly.

“I’d have just sent him to Azkaban with all the other dark wizards.” Dean added. Harry couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh at the two wizards’ ridiculousness

“Do you realize how idiotic you both sound sitting here debating on what you’d do to me if either of you were my fuckin mother? I can do ya one better. If either of you two bellends were my mother you’d be fuckin dead and I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my room.” Harry snarled, shoving past them. Both boys wore a satisfying expression of bewilderment and said nothing as Harry bounded up the steps to the boys dormitory two at a time.

He took his time putting his cloak away, washing up and getting dressed, not looking forward to another confrontation with Dean and Seamus. Thankfully the common room was empty, so Harry made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. By now the Gryffindor table was full, with quite literally nowhere to sit other than right beside someone else. With the tensions growing ever stronger with his housemates, Harry chose to simply… sit at another table.

It wasn’t against the rules, was it? The Slytherin table was emptiest. Every member of Slytherin house had already hated him from the moment he stepped foot through Hogwarts’ doors. They didn’t seem to hate him any more now after everything that happened last year than they ever did. Plus, now he had a pretty solid friendship and alliance going with Severus, who would hex their asses into oblivion if they tried anything. So Harry plopped down at the table as if he had every right to be there, and much to his surprise, nobody said a word about it.

He loaded up his plate and stole a glance up at the High Table. Severus gave him a look of slightly amused confusion, and Harry just shrugged in return. Umbridge was eyeing him with true malice and disgust. Dumbledore looked completely pissed off.

It had been two weeks since he and Severus had their drunken pity party in the dungeons, and while it had only strengthened his bond with the potions professor, Harry’s contempt for Dumbledore had grown exponentially.

Frankly, Harry thought the old man was a psychopath. The way he could manipulate, hurt and use people reminded him of Voldemort. The only difference was, Voldemort was proud and open about his evil, and Dumbledore was really good at hiding it from everyone. Harry’s thoughts about the Headmaster were interrupted by someone coughing for his attention. He looked up, surprised to see Draco Malfoy standing next to him, looking very awkward and uncomfortable.

“Hey, Potter. Do you mind if I join you?” Draco asked, folding and unfolding his arms, visibly tense.

“It’s your house’s table Malfoy, you don’t need to ask my permission to sit here.” Harry responded casually, shoving a forkful of eggs in his mouth and moving his bag off of the seat next to him.

“Yeah. But I meant, like, sitting next to you. Not just at the table in general.” Draco said, sitting down beside him and grabbing a plate of his own.

“Well by all means be my guest.” Harry laughed, though despite his cheek, he honestly wasn’t annoyed. More intrigued than anything.

“Why thank you Potter, how very gentlemanly of you. So, you’ve decided to leave the lion’s den for the snake pit?” Draco asked, nervousness seeming to relax a bit as they fell into a familiar banter.

“I was basically excommunicated. In case you haven’t noticed, everyone in the wizarding world hates me, after last year. The Gryffindors apparently all want to fight me, I already gotta watch where I’m sleeping, I’m not about to worry about them poisoning my food or something too.” Harry said frankly. He had no idea why he was confiding in Malfoy of all people, but there he was. He expected Draco to laugh at his suffering, or poke fun, or something, but he just nodded his head in what looked like sympathy.

“I’ve noticed. It’s bullshit. Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, and yet they’re singling out one person against a whole house. Not very brave if you ask me…they have not a shred of interhouse loyalty.” Draco replied. Harry was shocked at the supportive response, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat vindicated. Malfoy had always been an arch nemesis of his, but here he was acknowledging Harry’s unfair treatment, and actually seemed offended on his behalf.

“Yeah, thanks Malfoy. They’re a big bunch of cunts is what they are.” Harry said with a grin, and Malfoy chuckled at the blunt vulgarity.

“Even Granger and the Weasleys turned on you?” Draco asked after a while. Harry sighed. Neither of them had spoken a word to him since his outburst after his detention with Umbridge. To be fair, Harry hadn’t tried speaking with them either, but still. They were supposed to be his best friends, and yet they always doubted him and downplayed all of his problems, even when they were really serious problems. He was questioning his friendship with them for the first time since he started at Hogwarts and they all became friends in the first place. Even last year, when Ron was being a right prick about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry hadn’t really questioned their friendship. A part of him knew Ron would come back. But this time, he wasn’t sure either of them would. And he wasn’t sure he even wanted them to anymore. What good was a friendship he would always have to question?

“Like I said. They’re all a bunch of cunts.” Harry said darkly, losing what was left of his appetite. Draco seemed to sense the change in Harry’s mood and clapped Harry reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Well to hell with them Potter. You still have me, and everyone knows I’m your favorite person in the castle anyways. That’s why you’ve always been such an arse to me, it’s because you have the world's biggest crush and you’re actually obsessed. You even joined the snake pit so you can get closer to me. I’m quite flattered by it all.” Draco said teasingly with his infamous sneer. Usually Harry would get defensive over Malfoy’s cockiness, but this time he could see it for the attempt at friendly banter that it was, and he was thankful for it.

“You’re absolutely right, Draco. I actually wrote all of those stories in the Prophet and orchestrated all of this as part of my big evil plan to seduce you. Is it working?” Harry played along and Draco grinned at him in response.

“Of course it is! You’re Harry Fuckin Potter. We all may loathe you entirely, but like it or not absolutely everyone swoons over the Boy Who Lived.” Both boys were laughing now, and they finished their breakfast with a bit more light banter before Harry caught Draco’s eyes.

“Hey… thanks. I know we haven’t ever really gotten along, but I appreciate you being decent to me and letting me sit here. I’m gonna be honest, mate, I’ve been having a really terrible time lately. This was fun.” Harry said sincerely. Draco looked down, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks, before ultimately giving Harry a warm smile.

“You can sit here whenever you want. This was fun. I’ll admit I like it much better when we’re not throwing hexes and cussing each other out.” Draco said quietly. Harry felt awkward about their turn in conversation, but undeniably good. He knew Draco Malfoy’s pompousness and snooty attitude had always been mostly a front. As rich and “influential” and “political” as Malfoy may be, the boy didn’t really have any friends. Other than Crabbe and Goyle, who were mostly just bodyguards rather than actual friends. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t too bad after all. Maybe he was lonely, and tired, and over all of the bullshit too. Either way, Harry would take whatever kind of olive branch he could get. He would certainly rather have Malfoy as a friend than an enemy any longer.

“Oh, I still plan on hexing you and cussing you out and stuff sometimes…but only cause that’s kinda fun too.” Harry said jovially, trying to break the tension with humor. Draco chuckled and shoved him lightly.

“I am down to kick your arse in a duel anytime, Potter, so long as you don’t summon another big honking snake to fight your battles for you like you did last time.”

*******

The following night Harry made his way down to the dungeons for his occlumency lesson with Snape, feeling a slight trepidation. Severus had said he was a natural, but the lessons always bothered him when memories slipped past his shields unwillingly, and even more so when he caught glimpses of Severus’. Neither of them had lived very pleasant lives, and Harry was wary of whatever awful events from the past would be dredged to the surface tonight. At least he would come out of all of this with a bottle of Dreamless Sleep in his hands.

“You’re already scared shittless and we haven’t even started yet. Where’s that infamous Gryffindor bravery?” Severus joked when Harry skulked through the door.

“I was supposed to be in Slytherin.” Harry retorted, putting his chin in the air defiantly. Severus rolled his eyes.

“Yeah right. I bet ‘Dumbledick’, as you so eloquently refer to him, would have just loved that.”

“I’m serious, Sev! Ask the bloody hat if you don’t believe me! Thing only put me in Gryffindor cause I practically begged it to!” Harry shouted, and Severus gave him an incredulous look.

“Are you serious? Harry, why would you have done that? You could have been in my house this whole time, I could have actually done something about some of Dumbledore's schemes!” Severus said, smacking his forehead in frustration.

“Hey, don’t blame me! Everyone was filling my head with all this shite about Slytherin being nothing but a bunch of dark wizards! Plus, the Weasleys were really nice to me and I saw the whole lot of them were Gryffindors.” Harry replied, and Severus barked out a laugh.

“That in and of itself was actually very Slytherin of you, Harry. A perfect example of cunning self-preservation. You’ve done me proud.” Severus said with a shit eating grin. Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head in begrudging amusement.

“Oh, shut it. I was a bloody idiot. I should have just let the stupid hat put me where it wanted to.”

“Ah, think nothing of it. I believe you would have excelled no matter what house the hat put you in. Truly you have more Hufflepuff qualities than any of the other houses.”

“Pfft, you’re a fuckin Hufflepuff.”

Severus chuckled lightly and they stepped into the parlour to sit across from each other on the floor to begin the lesson.

“I’m going to guide you into a meditative state that should allow you to clear away intrusive thoughts and access a deeper reserve in your mind that should dramatically strengthen your mental shields. This is a much more advanced occlumency technique than any we’ve practiced before, and while it is completely safe, we will still have to be careful because it can be a bit disorienting.” Severus said, reaching out for Harry’s hands. They interlaced their fingers and both closed their eyes as they began.

“Breathe deeply, in and out now. In through your nose to a count of three, and out through your mouth to a count of five. Focus on feeling the air pouring down into your belly, then slowly coming back up, and finally releasing back into the universe.” Severus’ voice was such a low baritone that Harry could almost feel a rumble deep in his chest, like he was sitting next to a bass-boosted speaker. It was calming and hypnotic. He matched Severus’ breathing for a few minutes before the man continued.

“I want you to settle yourself into the safe place you have constructed in your mind. Focus on your senses, what do you see around you, what can you hear, what can you smell? Absorb yourself so completely into the environment that you can see yourself there interacting with the space around you.”

It didn’t take Harry much time at all to visualize himself back in his mind’s cupboard, he was rather surprised and unsettled, however, when he found he could actually reach out and touch everything. It truly would have felt just like he had apparated there, were it not for Severus’ low voice and the feel of his hands to ground him, nevermind the fact that Privet Drive no longer even existed.

“This place, Harry, is of your mind's own creation. That means nothing is out of bounds for you here. Your magic can create, take away, shift and manipulate, anything at all to your heart’s desire. What can you do to make this place safer, stronger, impenetrable even?”

Harry imagined the door to be made of steel, and so it was. He willed into existence a maddening series of locks, magical wards, and muggle booby traps to keep anyone else out other than himself, as well as fortified the walls around him and made them soundproof. He cleared away the clutter and filth that his aunt had forced him to live around for all those years to make a clean empty space and replaced the old worn out crib mattress on the floor with a cushion he could sit on comfortably. He kept it dark and cramped, because it was strangely soothing that way.

“Let this place be a sanctuary for you, Harry. Nothing can harm you here. In this Fortress of your mind, you are safe. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed, or angry, if you feel like you want to hurt yourself, if you’re being plagued by nightmares, or visions from the Dark Lord, I want you to retreat here, Harry. Bring yourself here, and I will protect you on the outside.”

Harry felt a surge of warmth flow through him at Severus’ words. He knew the man meant it, too. Even before they got along, Severus had always been there protecting him behind the scenes. And now the man had grown into a close friend, an ally, as well as being the most reliable adult in his life.

“I’m going to count you back from ten, Harry, and you’ll join me again in the parlour. It may feel a bit uncomfortable at first, but try not to worry. You’re safe and I’m right here.”

Coming out was much more jarring than it had been going into his Fortress. It felt a bit like a portkey, only the sensation of a pulling jolt came from behind his eyes rather than his navel. He gripped Severus’ hands a bit while he reoriented himself and squeezed his eyes shut trying to stave off the pounding headache that started immediately upon reentry into reality.

“Very good, Harry. You really do seem to have a natural affinity for mind magic. Your occlumency shields are much stronger, and get even better each time we practice. I’m not sure I could get through now.” Severus said with pride, beaming at Harry.

“Really? Sev, you should test me then! Seriously, hit me with the strongest legilimens you got!” Harry challenged, brimming with adrenaline. Severus’ praise didn’t come easy, and if he was as good as the man said, Harry was eager to prove himself.

“We shouldn’t do anymore tonight. You already used a lot of magic strengthening your shields. Not to mention the fact that you have been sleeping irregularly.” Severus chided with a stern expression, but Harry wasn’t having it.

“Come on, I’m not even tired right now!” Harry lied, and Severus shot him an incredulous look.

“Harry-“

“Okay, I mean yes, I mean technically I am a little tired in a physical sense. But my brain is running overtime right now! It’s either do this or lay awake thinking all night and that’s never good for anyone!” Harry pleaded, giving Severus puppy dog eyes.

“Christ, calm down you horrible child.” Severus said, reaching for his wand. “I will test you, but I am most certainly not going to wage a full scale attack on your mind this late at night.”

“I promise I can handle it. I really think I got this in the bag, Severus. Like you said, I have a natural affinity.” Harry said with a cheeky smirk.

“Arrogance is extremely unbecoming.” Severus drawled, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. “Very well… legilimens!”

Harry was safe within his Fortress. He sat cross legged on the cushion waiting for a sign of Severus’ presence. It started with a faint dripping sound. Like a leaky faucet splashing on a metal pan. Slowly at first, but then the steady drops became more of a trickle, and then a roar of rushing water crashing at the door.

Water oozed into his Fortress from beneath the door, through the key-holes in the locks, and from cracks in the ceiling slowly spreading far and deep with the weight of the water that was crushing in from all sides. Harry braced the door as well as he could, and conjured towels to shove up against the hinges where water was pouring in through a pressurized stream.

Harry started to panic as he realized the room was flooding at an alarming rate. The water was all the way up past his ankles, pouring in from all sides. The walls and ceiling were buckling dramatically under the weight of Severus’ ocean. Harry conjured a drain on the floor, and at first it seemed to do the trick as the water level went down quickly, with a little whirlpool forming at Harry’s feet.

Before he could do much as sigh a breath of relief, the whirlpool stilled and the streams of water, flowing more ferociously by the minute, started to flood the room again. Harry conjured another drain and another but the water level still wouldn’t go down. Harry crouched down and scraped at the drains with his bare hands frantically, and to his horror he pulled up fistfuls of inky black hair. He tore the hair from the drains in big greasy wads but they wouldn’t unclog.

He gave up on the drains when the water level got to his chest and he couldn’t reach them without putting his head beneath the surface. He had never learned how to swim, and after nearly drowning in the Black Lake during the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had a pretty healthy fear of water. He desperately tried to think of how his magic could help him stay afloat and drain the water out of here, but he was frozen in panic. As he began to lose control of his Fortress, Severus’ flood began dredging memories to the surface from the deepest recesses of Harry’s mind.

~~~~

Uncle Vernon had been drinking again. The living room smelled like malt whiskey and sweat. Harry stood in the doorway. Vernon had called him in here, but Harry had never been allowed to join them in the living room before. It was late. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were asleep already. Harry wondered whether he should have pretended to be asleep too, and ignored his uncles beckoning, but Harry knew whatever the man had in store for him would have been even worse if he had.

“Get in here, boy. I want to see you.” Uncle Vernon growled. Harry reluctantly shuffled forward.

~~~~

Harry panicked as he began to recognize the memory. He couldn’t relive this, he had to get Severus out of here somehow. He began screaming.

“NO SEVERUS, NO, I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE! STOP!”

But the water kept coming, creeping further and further up until Harry had to tread constantly to keep from sinking. He channeled his magic into forcing open the locks, wards and traps he had so painstakingly set to keep intruders out. Now they were trapping him here.

~~~~

“Yes, Uncle Vernon?” Harry asked. He was twelve years old here, it was just before he returned for his second year at Hogwarts. His uncle was still very upset about the pudding incident with Dobby at the start of the summer. The man hadn’t said two words to him since that day, and he had been locked in the cupboard for a week because of it. Maybe uncle Vernon wasn’t mad anymore. Maybe he called Harry in here to tell him the punishment was over.

“Get on your knees, boy. Let’s see if you can do anything good with that filthy mouth of yours.”

~~~~

The door to the Fortress slammed open and all of the water poured out in one ferocious wave that threatened to pull Harry with it. He had done it. He had gotten Severus out of his head, but not before the man had picked up on the context of that memory, Harry was sure.

He felt sick to his stomach. It had been years since he thought of that night. It was a memory he had buried so deep, it felt like a tumor being cut out from the depths of him when Severus brought it to the surface. Harry sat alone in his Fortress for some time after that, trying to calm himself down before facing his potions professor, who was sure to have questions that Harry would absolutely not be answering.

Harry was furious with Severus, though he knew it wasn’t really the man’s fault and he was more so furious with himself. Harry had goaded him, and Severus had tried to refuse. Harry hadn’t anticipated the intensity of which Severus could take complete control of his mind and use his own Fortress against him like that. Harry was more so afraid than angry. He knew Severus had been holding back at least a little, and still it seemed impossible to get him out of his head before it was too late. Did Harry get him out or did Severus retreat? If Voldemort ever tried to legilimize him it would be so much worse, and the thought made Harry shudder violently. He counted himself back out into reality and sat before Severus with his eyes closed, afraid to see the look on his face.

“Harry-“

“Don’t. I-I c-can’t talk about that. Just gi-give me the Dreamless Sleep so I can get out of here.” Harry said coldly, the tremble in his voice betraying just how scared and shook he was. Severus stared at him for a moment with a look of concern before he reluctantly nodded.

“I can’t make you talk about anything, Harry, but I think it would help you to talk to someone about it. It doesn’t have to be me. Maybe one of your friends, or Professor McGonagall?” Severus said as he stood up to retrieve the potions for him. He came back with the promised Dreamless Sleep, as well as a Calming Drought and a Headache Reliever. Harry gulped down the later two and pocketed the Dreamless Sleep for when he got back up to the tower.

“I have never told anyone about that. I never will. It’s only by mistake that you know. If I were ever going to talk about it with anyone, it would most likely be with you, but I can’t. It won’t help anything, it will make me sick to talk about it and besides what is there to even say, Severus? He’s dead now, okay? It’s over now. He’s never gonna do anything like that again, so let’s just drop it, please?” Harry begged in a voice so much smaller and more helpless than Severus had probably ever heard from him. But Harry didn’t care. He was so raw with emotion, it felt like the inside of his head had been scrubbed with a wire bristle brush.

“I understand. If you ever do want to talk about it, I hope you know I am here for you.” Severus said, opening the door for Harry and retreating towards his bedroom to give the boy some space.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Sev.” Harry muttered over his shoulder as he darted from the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran the full way to Gryffindor tower, and didn’t speak a word to any of the stragglers left behind in the common room as he took the stairs up to his dormitory two at a time. He didn’t say hello or goodnight or anything at all to his roommates, or answer any of their questions when he unceremoniously popped the cork on his bottle of Dreamless Sleep and chugged the whole double-dose right in front of them. His head barely had time to hit the pillow before he was out cold.

Chapter 11: Lion in the Snake Pit

Notes:

Tw: self harm

(Harry)

The next few days went by in a blur. That first night, Harry had slept a whole fourteen hours, and Severus had not been pleased with the fact that Harry had drunk the full bottle of Dreamless Sleep. He’d insisted Harry be supervised while taking it the next two nights, so Harry had stayed on the couch in Severus’ living room. He didn’t mind the arrangement, in fact it was preferable. Harry had grown to hate staying in the Tower. If Dean and Seamus weren’t bad enough, Harry loathed the silent war that was waging between himself and Ron and Hermione.

Their silence just riled him up further and further every day. In his outburst, he had admitted to them some of the abuse he had faced and they said nothing. He had confessed to hurting himself on purpose and they said nothing. Did he truly mean so little to them that they didn’t care at all about the shite he had went through? Did they understand how wrong they were for leaving him now when he needed them most? Did this friendship really mean nothing to them?

Harry would not be the one to break the silence. He was too stubborn, and despite being knocked down in the dirt by life time and time again, he did still have some pride. He wouldn’t beg for friendship, he wouldn’t beg for love, only to face rejection like he had over the summer with Sirius. Harry didn’t need them. Of course he wanted them in his life, and he missed them terribly, and it hurt something fierce to lose them… but he didn’t need anybody. He’d gotten through his whole life so far without anyone there to give a damn, and he would do the same now if he had to.

But he didn’t have to. He knew he had Severus. He had Ginny, and Neville, and Fred and George, and Luna and hell, even Draco Malfoy. If Ron and Hermione couldn’t get their heads out of their arses, that was their problem, and it was up to them to make things right if that’s what they wanted to do.

In the meantime, Harry sat at the Slytherin table for every meal. He would chat up Draco and their conversations grew easier and friendlier every time. A few of the other Slytherins had taken to welcoming Harry into their banter as well. Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had proven to all be pretty decent. Dumbledore had even stopped glaring at him from the High Table after a week or so. Harry definitely didn’t need Ron and Hermione, anymore, and they clearly didn’t need him. So it was quite a shock to him one morning when they pulled him aside after leaving the Great Hall.

“Harry, wait, we would like to speak to you.” Hermione said, grabbing him lightly by the elbow. He had been walking with Draco, who gave him a look of sympathy and whispered “Meet me in the library, afterwards.” Before leaving to give them some privacy.

“Really, mate? You’re replacing us with that piece of shite?” Ron hissed angrily, shoving Harry hard in the chest. Harry shoved him back and Hermione stepped between them.

“RONALD! You promised me that you weren’t going to do this!” Hermione shrieked, grabbing Ron by the chin firmly, forcing his gaze away from Harry and onto her. His glare softened once his eyes met hers.

“Yeah, for you! I wanted to do this for you, Mione, but if he’s going to flaunt his new Death Eater status in our faces I’m fucking out!” Ron seethed. Harry scoffed at him and shook his head in disbelief.

“Are you bloody jokin?! Did you just call me a fucking DEATH EATER?!” Harry roared, clenching his fists at his side, shaking with rage.

“Harry, don’t listen to Ron, he’s an idiot! I pulled you aside to apologize for the way we’ve been treating you and Ron’s just messed it all up!” Hermione cried, reaching out to pat Harry’s shoulder, but Harry shrugged away from her furiously.

“I don’t want your apologies. They mean nothing to me. I thought we were friends. I confided in you some serious problems I’ve been having and you left me to deal with it all on my own for weeks now, without a single word from either of you. Now the first time you’ve come to talk to me I get accused of being a bloody Death Eater, of all things! Of every horrible thing you could say to me, Ron, that’s probably the worst!” Harry shouted, it was taking everything in him to not brandish his wand and hex the smirk right off of Ron’s face. They had drawn an audience at this point, and neither of the two were backing down.

“Come off it Harry!” Ron screamed, ignoring Hermione’s protests, shoving her hand away when she tried to cover his mouth.

“Stop, Hermione! I’m sick of this shite, I’m not going to tolerate him screaming in my girlfriend’s face like that! Who the fuck do you think you are Harry?” Ron asked, looking right into Harry’s eyes now.

“I haven’t really got a problem with Hermione, it’s you that’s crossed the line!” Harry retorted, and Ron huffed a laugh in response.

“Yeah I really don’t think I’ve crossed a line mate, I think I’m actually right on the mark! You’re bloody fuckin insane Harry. You got You-Know-Who in your head, you’re in the dungeons every night probably taking it up the arse from Snape, now you’re best friends with all the mini Death Eaters in training, eating with Slytherin every day like a fuckin traitor! Well why don’t you go live with them too, cause I’m telling you now, none of us want you in Gryffindor!” Ron snarled. Hermione gave up intervening a while ago, but she looked stricken and horrified at the words Ron was saying, and stormed off crying at the end of his rant. Harry looked at Ron, seeing him for the first time for the cruel, cold, uncaring person that he really was. Harry was so hurt by the horrible things he had said that he was rendered speechless for a bit, before he felt something inside of him snap.

“Like I would want to share a living space with people who hate me. Don’t worry, I will collect my belongings and I won’t be returning to the Tower, nor to the table, and I’ll be quitting the team. I’m fuckin done with Gryffindor, way more so than any of you are done with me, I promise. I’ve had enough! Never speak to me again, Weasley. We are not friends, in fact I’m fucking disgusted by you.” Harry said, storming away towards the dungeons, shoving his way through the crowd of people who had been watching gobsmacked.

Harry burst through the door of the potions classroom where Severus was in the middle of instructing his third year class.

“What is it?” Severus asked, stopping his lecture to direct his attention to Harry. He felt guilty for interrupting the man’s class like this, but he was starting to really spiral now and he needed help from the only adult he could trust.

“I need you.” Harry croaked as he covered his face with his hands, desperately trying to hide his distress from the onlooking students.

“Class dismissed!” Severus barked, and the classroom cleared instantly, nobody wanting to face Snape’s wrath should they choose to dawdle. Once they were alone, Severus cast a silencing charm on the door and crossed the room to bring Harry into his arms. Harry collapsed into the embrace and wept like he’d never wept before, into Severus’ shoulder, babbling incoherently about the injustice of everything. Severus just stood there, holding him and listening, though he couldn’t understand a word that Harry was saying, until he calmed down.

“Do you think you can tell me now, what happened?” Severus asked him gently once Harry’s breathing had slowed from hyperventilation and returned to normal.

“I got into a fight with Ron. He called me a Death Eater and said you were … being …inappropriate with me, in front of everyone! There was a whole crowd and he just fucking screamed those horrible things in front of everybody! And told me I can’t come back to the Tower, as if I’d want to anyway, I’d rather sleep in the fucking house-elf quarters than in there! I don’t know what would possess him to say those things in front of EVERYONE! He was bitching to me just two weeks ago for accusing Umbridge of torture, when it was actually true, saying I could ruin her life by spreading that around and he goes and says THAT about YOU in front of the whole Great Hall?!”

Harry’s heart sank in his chest as the gravity of the situation came crashing in on him. What if everyone believed what Ron had said? Severus had a horrible reputation amongst the students, and probably the majority of the staff. Plus, recently they had found themselves tiptoeing the line with Dumbledore. What if he used this against them and got Severus fired? What would happen with Harry? Nobody else had ever taken care of Harry the way Severus had. And now after his fight with Ron he could never live at the Weasley’s. Sirius would never accept him. Harry could drop out of Hogwarts and go with Severus, but would the man accept him? Especially if they snapped Harry’s wand and he couldn’t do magic?

Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe, and like he was going to throw up all of his organs until he was just a shell of a boy. Severus gently rubbed circles on Harry’s back and whispered reassurances that Harry couldn’t quite absorb in that moment, but the sentiment was nice nonetheless.

“Ronald Weasley is an idiot. 50 points from Gryffindor for lying and insulting the integrity of a professor. I will be speaking to Professor McGonagall about his actions today, and I promise you he will be handled. Minerva will not take those kinds of accusations lightly, Harry.” Severus assured him. Harry was still nauseous and shaking, unable to find comfort in Severus’ words.

“What if she believes Ron! She didn’t believe me about Dean and Seamus on the train, why would she believe me over him? What if you get fired and I can’t see you anymore or something? I can’t do this without you.” Harry confided brokenly the anxious thoughts swirling in his head. Severus carded his fingers through Harry’s hair and rocked him gently.

“Harry. That will not happen, I promise you. Minerva is aware that I am your guardian, and that the guardianship was both petitioned and finalized by Dumbledore himself. There isn’t a witch or wizard alive who would dare undermine him. I am not leaving you. I will always be here, Harry. And if these imbeciles did fire me over that dunderhead’s baseless claim, we would simply relocate, together, to a new location, and we’d probably be much better and happier for it.”

Harry took in his words, and allowed himself to draw strength from them enough to calm his breaths again. He clung to Severus robes, accepting all of the comfort the man was willing to give, whatever was left of his pride be damned.

“You would take me with you?” He asked quietly, fishing for reassurance.

“Of course, I would. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy. We have an official alliance, or did you forget?” Severus said lightly, and Harry chuckled in response.

“No, you and me til the end, right?” Harry said with a small smile.

“You’re damn right. You and me til the end. Now, Harry, I think we should seriously consider requesting accommodations in the Tower for you. A private room perhaps. I no longer think it wise to share a living space with Weasley, Thomas and Finnegan.” Severus suggested, and Harry shook his head bitterly.

“I’m not a Gryffindor, anymore Severus. Fuck that whole house, I want to be resorted, or stay in your living room or something. I was serious about the house-elf quarters if it would mean getting away from them.” Harry whined, not caring that he sounded desperate and bratty and childish. He couldn’t live with those people after all of this. He’d spent his whole life watching his back, surrounded by people who hated him and wanted to hurt him. He couldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t.

“We can talk about getting you resorted with the Headmaster and Minerva if that’s what you really want to do, Harry. And I can accommodate you until then. But you shouldn’t let them kick you out of your rightful house. You belong there just as much as they do. You’re a student in this school and have every right to be here and learn without being bullied by students and tortured by staff.” Severus said in a stern tone, but not at all unkindly. Harry unfurled himself from the man to look up at his face, horrified to see the snotty nasty mess he’d left on his robes. Severus looked down and wandlessly and non verbally cleaned the mess without a word about it.

“Thank you, Sev. Sorry for crying all on you. I really don’t want to be in Gryffindor anymore. I think I would do much better in Slytherin, with you as my head of house. I’m not safe in Gryffindor and at this point they have all gone too far.” Harry said softly, and Severus nodded.

“Very well, let’s go talk to the Headmaster now then.”

*******

(Severus)

On their way to the Headmaster’s office, Harry and Severus ran into Minerva McGonagall, who had also been headed there, over the Weasley incident, although she had yet to be informed of what actually transpired. They fell in step with her but Severus waved Harry forward, as he wanted a word with her privately before confronting Dumbledore, and thankfully the boy immediately obliged.

“Minerva.”

“Severus.”

“I require your assistance like I’ve never before.” Severus said in sincerity. The witch turned and looked at him with concern flashing across her stern face.

“What is it?” She said, placing her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Severus had known Minerva for a long time, since he himself had been a student here. Minerva was strong, intelligent, and fiercely loyal. That loyalty had sometimes clouded her better judgement, especially when it came to her Gryffindors. She had allowed some pretty extreme bullying to occur right under her nose when Severus was a student, and it seemed like the same pattern was repeating now with his son. Despite all of that, he knew she was a formidable woman who he needed on his side.

“My son is being targeted. I am trying my best to be there for him, but it has been particularly difficult, especially after the headmaster’s interference.” Severus replied, feeling uneasy, though he knew Minerva had been just as distraught after finding herself under the fidelus charm when Dumbledore announced at the last Order meeting he had placed it for ‘everyone’s safety’. She had argued with Albus that it was Severus’ right to tell Harry, but Albus had disregarded her as well, albeit without the threats and removal of her body parts.

“I apologize on behalf of my house, Severus. I don’t know what has gotten into my lions. I promise that Thomas and Finnegan have been spoken too, but now the Weasley boy starting in on Harry… it’s a very unexpected turn of events, I had always thought the boys to be great friends.” Minerva said sadly, looking exhausted and old.

“Thank you. Harry expressed to me tonight that he wants to be resorted. We would both really appreciate it if you would allow him to do that. I know how much you care for him, Minerva, that’s why I am coming to you as a friend to ask you to help me do what I think is best for my son.” Severus asked quietly, looking into her eyes. The last thing he wanted was to offend the woman, or imply she wasn’t watching over him properly. Though he did have his opinions about her leniency sometimes leading to trouble, he respected her greatly. At first she looked unmistakably disappointed, but slowly a smile started to form on her lips and she patted Severus’ shoulder where her hand had been resting.

“Of course, Severus. I only want what’s best for Harry. While it breaks my heart that it has come to this, I agree that it is necessary, and I will not dispute you on the matter if this is what Harry really wants.”

“Thank you so much. Your support means everything to me.” Severus said gratefully. She inclined her head toward him as they reached the gargoyle guarding the revolving staircase leading to the headmaster’s office. Harry had been pacing in front of the statue waiting for them to catch up.

“Everything will be okay, Harry.” Severus whispered to him reassuringly. Harry looked up at him and gave him a small smile, but the boy was still trembling and red-faced from crying. Severus offered him his hand and he took it and squeezed.

“Saltwater taffy.” Minerva said to the gargoyle, and it allowed them in.

“Why, what a lovely entourage. What can I do for you this afternoon?” Albus said from his seat behind the desk. His hands were folded in front of him, and he looked wary. His eyes did not hold their familiar twinkle.

“We have an incident to discuss, Albus. There was a fight between Potter and Weasley this morning outside of the Great Hall. I understand there were some rather nasty words exchanged, but I myself do not know the full story or what was said exactly.” Minerva supplied, but Albus’ eyes never left Severus’.

“Would this happen to account for the egregious point loss from Gryffindor this morning?” Dumbledore asked lightly, and Severus gave him a curt nod.

“Professor, if I may? I’d like to explain what happened?” Harry said quietly, stepping forward but still holding Severus’ hand tightly.

“Of course, Harry.” Albus inclined his head toward the seat in front of him, inviting the boy to sit, but Harry stayed standing.

“Sorry sir, I’m kind of amped up right now and I’d really prefer to stand. No offense.”

“None taken, my boy. Now please, tell us what happened?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been experiencing quite a bit of bullying since term started, and it’s actually mostly coming from my own housemates. I’ve been trying to ignore it, after I got in trouble for fighting Dean and Seamus on the train, I’ve been trying to stay away from them all together, but they follow me around, and antagonize me on purpose.

“Earlier in the year, I told Ron and Hermione about some stuff that was happening to me and they didn’t really care, they said literally nothing about it and we hadn’t really spoken much after that, I’ve been sitting with the Slytherins and everything-“ Harry was saying, but Dumbledore cut him off.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that Harry and I must say it’s rather unusual to see a Gryffindor sitting so comfortably with the Slytherins.” Albus chided lightly, and Harry did not look amused.

“It’s not against the rules to sit with the other tables for meals unless it’s a feast. I checked.” Harry said dryly.

“I never said it was against the rules, my boy, simply that it’s unusual. Very well, continue please.”

“Er… right. Well, anyways today everything escalated when Ron and Hermione wanted to talk to me after breakfast. I was a little hesitant ‘cause they have been acting like right prats, but Hermione said she wanted to apologize, so I was trying to have a civil conversation about it, right? And then, sir, Ron literally accused me of being a Death Eater! Imagine that?! My best mate.

“Anyways, I called him out on it and said that was ridiculous and he doubled down, and went as far as to accuse Professor Snape of quote ‘giving it to me up the arse’ unquote! And he said that in front of literally everyone! He shouted it actually! And I told him that was horrible of him to say and to never speak to me again.

“Because that is bloody terrible to accuse someone of doing something like that if it isn’t true. Professor Snape is a great man and he has taken extremely good care of me since becoming my guardian, he would never, ever do something like that to me, or any student! And I don’t take lightly to someone throwing around an awful accusation like that just cause they’re pissed off. Some people have a history with stuff similar to that kind of situation and I bet it was upsetting as hell for them to hear Ron just joke about it, like that would be hilarious for me, or anyone for that matter, to go through!” By the end of Harry’s rant he was shouting and had started crying again, but they all let him continue regardless.

Severus, of course, had recently seen glimpses of the horrific memory of what Harry’s uncle had made him do, and understood why it would have been particularly offensive to Harry to hear Weasley’s hurtful accusations. Severus was surprised, and also very proud, of the way Harry managed to express his disgust with the matter without technically having revealed that part of his past to anyone. Though, subtlety was never Harry’s strong suit, and judging by their grave and pitiful expressions, Severus suspected the others may have caught on, but they didn’t ask about it, thankfully.

“You are right, Harry, what Mr. Weasley said was absolutely reprehensible. We know that Professor Snape would never do anything like that, and it’s proof of your good character, Harry, that you would stand against this kind of behavior from your friend. 50 points for defending a professor.” Dumbledore said kindly, giving Severus a fond smile, an expression he hadn’t seen directed toward him in a very long time.

“With all due respect, professor, I don’t want those points. They will go to Gryffindor, and Sev- er, Professor Snape took 50 points away from Ron as a punishment, so that would be like he never got punished at all. Sir.” Harry stammered out. Dumbledore gave him an incredulous look for a second and then chuckled while shaking his head.

“I suppose you’re right, my boy. I will fix the counter, and I assure you I will be speaking with Ronald Weasley. He will not go unpunished, I promise that to you both.” Dumbledore agreed. Harry nodded and his shoulders seemed to relax a little.

“Sir, that’s also another thing I wanted to talk about. I would like to be resorted. I don’t feel safe in Gryffindor, sorry Professor McGonagall, I don’t mean you any offense whatsoever, but Ron really crossed a line today, and I asked the sorting hat to put me in Gryffindor anyways, it had really wanted to put me in Slytherin, and now I realize I made a mistake by influencing the hat’s real choice for me and I want to make it right and go where I actually belong.” Harry pleaded his case, having moved to the chair, he was fiddling with the trinkets on Albus’ desk while he spoke.

“Harry. This is rather unheard of. We have only had a handful of instances of resorting in the entire history of Hogwarts, which goes back thousands of years…” Dumbledore began, when Minerva stepped forward, Merlin bless her soul.

“Albus, I am amenable to the situation. I think it has become dire enough that this may be the necessary step to take. I think Harry needs his… Professor Snape, to watch over him the way I haven’t been able to.” Minerva said sadly, giving Harry an apologetic look. Harry reached out and grabbed the witches hand in thanks, and she gave him an affectionate smile.

“You’re a good boy, Harry. I’m sorry that things have gotten this bad, I should have done more to protect you.” She added, squeezing his hand.

“It’s okay, Professor McGonagall. I appreciate your support of having me resorted, I think I will be much happier if I can just get out of the Tower. I’ve been struggling really badly lately and it’s just becoming too much dealing with the hate and aggression every single day. Everything is already terrible enough…” Harry replied, and while Minerva inclined her head respectfully in acknowledgement, Albus slammed both hands down on the desk.

Magic crackled through the air around them and Severus instinctively moved behind Harry and rested his hands on the boy's shoulders protectively. The genial old man no longer sat before them, replaced by the Great and Powerful Albus Dumbledore. Severus didn’t know what exactly caused the man’s mood to shift so drastically but he would not let anything happen to Harry, regardless.

“Harry James Potter. I am very disappointed in this behavior you’re exhibiting. I will grant your request to be resorted into Slytherin, only because I believe after our conversation today, that you are a much more cunning and manipulative person than any of us have ever expected you to be. Your parents died to save you, Harry. Do you not understand how disrespectful it is for you to continuously threaten to throw your life, their sacrifice, away over every little problem you come to face?

“I have tried to be understanding with you, my boy, because I do realize you have suffered greatly in your life, but to sit in front of me and so boldly try to sway me with emotional manipulation through your little guilt trip is abhorrent and I will not tolerate it! Do you understand me, boy?” Dumbledore shouted. Minerva put her hand to her mouth in disbelief of Albus’ outburst while Severus felt a white hot surge of hatred for Albus Dumbledore course through his veins. How dare the madman yell at his child that way? Before Severus could say or do anything, Harry spoke.

“Professor Dumbledore, I was not trying to be emotionally manipulative or guilt trip anyone, at all, I swear. I’m very sorry if you got that impression.” Harry said apologetically in a small defeated voice. Severus’ heart ached for the boy. His son, so kind and selfless, needn’t have been the one to apologize, yet here he was, truly believing he had deserved that admonishment and now trying to make up for it.

“You will be resorted in the morning. I suggest you go get some rest, now.” Albus responded coldly, waving Harry away. Harry caught Severus’ eyes before he skulked out of the room, and Severus prayed the boy would have enough sense to go to his quarters.

“Albus, the harshness was unnecessary and uncalled for.” Minerva said quietly, and Albus said nothing until she and Severus left the office without another word. Severus rushed to the dungeons and thanked Merlin that the boy was in fact waiting there for him.

“Are you okay?” Severus asked quietly, sitting next to Harry on the sofa. Harry leaned into Severus’ side and rested his head on the man’s shoulder. Severus rubbed gentle circles on Harry’s back, trying to offer some semblance of comfort, but it was obvious he was just barely keeping himself together.

“I don’t want to be here anymore. Everyone hates me. What’s the point?” Harry said in a broken voice, and Severus sighed, pulling the idiot child closer to him.

“I certainly don’t hate you. What am I? Chopped flobberworms?” He asked, and Harry let out a weak chuckle.

“Let’s just die together, Severus. Fuck it all. You probably know of a dozen different poisons that can kill us painlessly.” Harry said wistfully. Severus wanted to weep for his son, so crushed by life that he would seriously suggest murder-suicide with longing in his eyes. He held Harry close and let out a long suffering sigh.

“You’re already killing me with your angst, Merlin, whatever will I do with you? I know of hundreds of potions that could kill us painlessly, I am a potions master after all, it’s not just a fancy title it does come with some knowledge.” Severus replied after a while, and Harry snorted.

“Name some, then, if you know everything. Which one would kill us the fastest?”

“Oh, that’s easy. If you had paid any attention in your third year potions class, you would know ‘Sofortiger Tod’ is the most potent poison known to wizard kind, just inhaling the fumes could kill a room full of people in half a second.” Severus answered easily, and Harry shook his head.

“That won’t do, anyone who came to get our bodies would die from exposure.” Harry said disappointedly.

“We should use Paix Mourir. It’s a very complex brew, but I’ve heard St. Mungos has used it to humanely euthanize people in certain cases where other treatments are unavailable.”

“Have you ever made it before?”

“No.”

“Well then how do you know you even could? You said it’s complicated to brew.” Harry cried indignantly, to which Severus barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“What part of ‘potions master’ are you not comprehending?” Severus replied snarkily.

“Touché, well let’s get started I’ll help you prepare the ingredients or whatever.”

“Harry, I’ve seen the way you prepare potions ingredients and have not ever been impressed. The ingredients for this particular potion are rare and expensive, I wouldn’t have you messing it all up, and end up with some toxic sludge that won’t kill us properly.”

“Alright then, you can do it then, I guess.”

“I’ll get right on it.” Severus said sarcastically, and much to his relief Harry actually laughed and sat up a bit straighter, still leaning against Severus' side but no longer resting his head. Severus patted him on the back.

“Well, hey, at least Dumbledick is gonna put me in Slytherin after all, that’s more than I expected even if he was an arse about it.” Harry said lightly, and Severus agreed.

*******

(Harry)

Harry spent a few hours helping Severus prepare potion ingredients, funny enough, but not for any poison. Just prepping headache reliever for the infirmary. Afterwards he decided to try to spend some time studying in the library.

He knew Severus would be a much stricter head of house than McGonagall had been. OWLs were coming up at the end of the year, and Harry hadn’t really been applying himself as he knew he should. He was determined to make his transfer to Slytherin a fresh start.

Harry’s head was pounding, and were it not for his occlumency shields up full force, he would probably have a total mental breakdown. Memories that he had buried deep, and hadn’t allowed himself to think about for years, just wouldn’t leave his head.

Severus had him on a tight schedule with the Dreamless Sleep potions, and this would be the second night off of the stuff. He knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, but he hoped maybe endless studying would tire him out at least a little. Harry chose a table in the far back corner of the library nearest the restricted section and got to work on his charms essay that was due the following morning. He had just gotten into the flow of things when, to his dismay, Ginny Weasley sat down beside him, and Harry’s heart sank in his chest.

“Hey, you.” She said softly, brushing the back of his hand with her fingertips.

“Hey…” Harry didn’t look up at her. The Weasleys all had the same chocolate brown eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to look into them at the moment.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t like Ginny, he loved her with all of his heart. She was a beautiful girl. Kind, intelligent, funny, athletic. She was perfect, but Harry was a mess. He knew she was just like her brothers. Fun loving and carefree, but when things got hard so did their hearts. She wouldn’t put up with him for much longer than Ron had. She would find Harry pathetic if it weren’t for her expectations blinding her from the person she never bothered to really know.

“I’m sorry about Ron. He should have never said any of those things to you, he was really out of line Harry. You must know the rest of the Gryffindors don’t really feel that way.” Ginny said after a while, once she realized Harry wasn’t going to start the conversation for her.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m being resorted in the morning anyways.” Harry replied with a shrug. Ginny’s jaw dropped and she grabbed his hand forcefully.

“They can’t do that to you! You belong in Gryffindor! With me…” Ginny cried indignantly, and Harry shook his head.

“I asked them to. I hate Gryffindor, Ginny. I’m not going back to the Tower. I mean no disrespect to you, but Ron said some unforgivable things to me today and I am no longer willing to share a living space with him, Dean or Seamus.” Harry said firmly. Ginny slowly released his hand, and Harry felt a surge of relief. His emotions were still very raw, and he needed to be alone, otherwise he would have stayed with Severus.

She lowered her hand onto Harry’s knee and he gave her a small smile, but when she started to slide her hand up, he froze and his smile dropped instantly.

“Ginny, what are you doing?” He asked breathlessly, and Ginny must have taken his sudden inability to breathe and his heart racing almost audibly as a sign to continue. When she landed on his crotch he grabbed her firmly by the wrist to stop her, but then she leaned in for a kiss, and Harry just- let go.

Fuck it. He wanted a distraction, didn’t he? And here the perfect distraction was, pawing at his lap. He kissed Ginny back ferociously, rolling his hips up into her palm, and she started rubbing him over his jeans. His mind was still swirling, his chest was still aching, his eyes were still sore and bloodshot from crying, but in the back of his mind, Harry thought this wasn’t so bad. He had always feared touching and intimacy, after everything that happened with Uncle Vernon, but in this moment he didn’t care, he didn’t feel any of that trepidation, just a raw hunger for more. It was a beautiful girl touching him, this time, so why not enjoy it? His body clearly wanted it, his head could catch up later.

The two teens broke apart breathlessly, and the second Ginny’s mouth left his, Harry’s anxiety came flooding back, full force like a rogue wave. His whole body was vibrating with energy, he tasted copper in his mouth, and it felt like he couldn’t get enough oxygen no matter how deeply he breathed. He shouldn’t have let her do that…

“Ginny-“ he started to say, but she shut him up with another quick peck on the lips.

“You can make it up to me by coming with me to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Ginny said with a wide smile. Harry nodded, trying very hard to feign interest as he hurriedly packed up his things to flee from the library as soon as possible. It was quickly becoming clear to Harry the only safe place in the castle was Severus’ quarters.

“Yeah, alright Gin. I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.” Harry lied, shoving his last textbook in his bag and standing quickly, putting enough distance between her and himself that she couldn’t touch or kiss him again without lunging for him or something excessive like that. He knew it wasn’t very gentlemanly but he ran out of the room without another word or glance in the girl’s direction.

Everything was too much. He couldn’t believe he let her do all of that. What the fuck was he thinking? What would her brothers do once they found out?! Harry darted into the nearest bathroom and vomited before he could reach the toilet. He sat down on the floor with his head between his knees. What he would do for a detention with Umbridge right now, he thought to himself darkly, and with that he only hesitated for a brief moment before conjuring a razor, and took it to his arm. It had been months since he submitted to the urges to hurt himself, and he was disappointed in his backslide quite a bit, but not nearly as much as he was desperately relieved.

This was familiar, sickeningly so, the game of seeing how much damage he could do before it all healed right before his eyes, and left no evidence of anything. It was addicting. Slicing open and fusing shut. Nothing could clear his mind of the horrible racing thoughts faster.

Why the everloving fuck did he let Ginny do that? He knew he didn’t want to be with her. Not that he didn’t like her, she was perfect, but Harry didn’t want to be with anyone, he didn’t even want to be alive most of the time. But now his fate was sealed, wasn’t it? He had already agreed to go to Hogsmeade with her, where everyone would see and everyone would talk and everyone would have expectations for them. He was trapped. All because he let himself go for five minutes, and surrendered to that touch. The same thing that had nearly broken him completely only a few years ago, now would ruin his life once again. The Weasleys would murder him. And that wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know for a fact they would torture him first.

He cut closer to his wrist, and deeper, maybe he could finally end it right here and now before any other terrible thing could happen. Before he could act on that thought, he was startled out of his breakdown by the sound of someone else entering the bathroom. What a sight they’d see, too. The-Boy-Who-Lived sitting in a puddle of his own sick, covered in blood, crying. He used a quick scourgify to clean away the vomit and the blood and vanished the razor right as Draco Malfoy entered the room.

“Woah, you okay? You look awful.” Draco said, kneeling down beside Harry, who laughed at the boy’s reaction to the sight of him.

“Oh yeah, I’m great can’t you tell? I’m here organizing a bathroom party and you’re the first to arrive.” Harry said dryly, his voice thick with the tears he’d been shedding all day.

“Some party, Potter. You should have accepted my bid for friendship in first year, I could have schooled you on how to throw a party the proper way.” Draco scoffed.

“Yeah, bet you coulda shown me how to throw a real rager.”

“A rager the likes of which you’ve never seen!”

“It’s not too late, you know? I’m being resorted into Slytherin in the morning. You’ll have plenty of time to teach me how the purebloods party it up, now.” Harry said with a grin and Draco gave him a look of surprise.

“Really? Is that why you’re crying in the bathroom, cause they’re dooming you to the snake pit?” Draco asked.

“No, I asked them to do that,” Harry admitted, “I’m crying in the bathroom because my life is terrible.” Draco gave him an assessing look before bursting out into laughter.

“Merlin, Potter, you’re mad. If you think joining the most hated house of Hogwarts is going to make your terrible life any better, you’re probably going to be disappointed.” Draco said while shaking his head. Harry gave him a light shove and broke out into a laugh as well.

“You’re probably right, but that’s where we’re at mate. I don’t think I could be much more strongly hated anyways.”

They sat together for a while more, making light conversation before Draco helped him up and offered to go to dinner together in the Great Hall, but Harry declined. He still felt sick and after the long, horrible day he had, he just wanted to retreat into Severus’ quarters and try to sleep, although Draco’s company did help him feel a little better than he had.

He trudged his way down to the dungeons, keeping his head down and not speaking to or looking at anyone. When he entered Severus’ living room he called out for the man, and got no response. Harry assumed the potions professor had gone to the Great Hall with everyone else.

He didn’t know what made him do it, whether it was just impossible to fight the impulse in his emotional state, or a desperate bid to take control back over his life, but Harry summoned a vial of Dreamless Sleep, and a Calming Drought from Severus’ private stores. Harry knew the potions professor would be very disappointed in him, but he didn’t care. Who wasn’t disappointed in him? He drank the full contents of each bottle, disregarding the proper dosage and crawled into Severus’ bed to let unconsciousness take him

Notes:

Harry: I don’t need anyone
Harry ten minutes later bursting through Severus’ door: I need you
Let me know what you think!

Chapter 12: Friends in Low Places

Notes:

A fluffy chapter for you, but fair warning, after this the story starts to take a considerably darker turn. Prepare yourselves, and enjoy!

(Harry)

Harry slept through the entire next day, and woke up the following day just after noon, having skipped the resorting announcement and all of his classes, but Harry didn’t really care. Everyone always thought the worst of him, no matter what he did anyways. His burst of motivation in the library before was short lived, and now the thought of working on his charms essay was just laughable.

Severus was not in his quarters when Harry woke. He felt kind of bad for stealing the man’s bed for two nights, and in the back of his mind he was worried Severus would be upset. He dreaded whatever lecture the professor would have in store for him.

Harry meandered to Severus’ potion cabinet, half intending to knock himself out with another vial of Dreamless Sleep, but it was now heavily locked and warded.

“Master Harry should not be beings in here!” Shrieked a high pitched, familiar voice from behind him. Harry jumped and turned to face a very pissed off looking Mipsy.

“Sorry, Mipsy,” Harry said embarrassedly, walking back into the parlor with his hands raised in surrender, “So, what brings you here on this fine day?”

“Mipsy is here to be making sure Master Harry behaves himself!” The little elf said sternly, and Harry felt a blush creep up onto his cheeks.

“I always behave myself. I’ll have you know I’ve never once misbehaved in my entire life.” Harry said in false indignation. Mipsy rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“Mipsy was not born yesterday Master Harry, if stealing potions and drinking too many of them is not misbehaving then Mipsy don’t know what is!” She chastened, and Harry groaned.

“I hardly stole anything, Severus has me on a regimen of potions, all I did was take one a teensy bit earlier than I should have.” Harry replied with a cheeky grin, but Mipsy was not having it.

“Master Harry, you is much too reckless. Master Snape and Mipsy want you to be safe. Now we can’t be trusting you.” Mipsy replied, wagging her finger in Harry’s face. Harry lightly pushed her hand away.

“I know… I fucked up. I’m sorry.” He said softly, and the little elf deflated a bit and patted Harry on the back of his leg.

“It is okay Master Harry, all will probably be forgiven, you just needs to be being good now.” She said lightly, guiding him to the sofa. “Master Snape will be done with his classes shortly. Would you be liking some breakfast while you wait?”

Mipsy didn’t wait for an answer, she just snapped her fingers and an assortment of food appeared on the coffee table in front of him. He filled a plate with fruit and scones and picked at it while he waited for Severus to come back and tear him a new one. As the minutes ticked by, the food dropping into Harry’s stomach started to feel like stones and he was sweating. What if Severus was really pissed that Harry stole from him?? What if he didn’t want to be friends anymore, Harry thought childishly? What if he said Harry wasn’t allowed to be in his quarters anymore and then everything went to shit in the Slytherin dorms? What if Harry just lost the only person in this castle who he could trust?

Harry pushed his plate away, food hardly touched, and closed his eyes as he tried to stop the incoming panic attack. What if he was truly all alone now? Tears started welling behind his eyes but he pushed the heel of his palms into his eye sockets and tried to force the tears back into his head. He cried more the other day than he had in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to do it again.

Severus had been really decent about it too, he thought darkly in his head, and I went and repaid him by stealing from him. Harry’s stomach lurched and his fingers and lips started to feel numb. Harry felt so ashamed of himself. The man probably wouldn’t even want him in here when he got out of class. Harry cast a quick tempus charm to check the time, and saw that Severus should be here within the next three minutes.

“Mipsy, should I just go? He’s probably really mad…” Harry said quietly, and Mipsy rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Master Snape IS really mad, but he will be being way, way, WAY more madder if you leave now before he be’s having the chance to talk with you!” Mipsy warned. Harry put his head in his hands.

“More like he wants to scream at me!” Harry lamented, and Mipsy, completely unsympathetic, scoffed.

“Don’t you think naughty boys who be stealing and drinking too much potions deserve to be screamed at?!” Mipsy retorted scornfully, and Harry let out a long suffering sigh, realizing he’d better just accept his fate instead of goading the elf further. Who knew Mipsy could be such a hard ass? She pushed Harry’s plate back toward him with a scowl and Harry reluctantly tried to eat a bit more, which seemed to satisfy her, as she sat on the sofa beside him and happily kicked her feet.

Harry was internally screaming. He was so angry at himself, and so scared of Severus’ reaction. Would the man revert back to his old ways? Would he be even worse than ever before? He didn’t have any more time to torture himself wondering about it, because right then Severus came through the door.

“Good afternoon, Mipsy. Good afternoon, Harry.” Severus greeted politely as he hung his cloak on the rack. He didn’t seem too mad, Harry thought, but maybe that was part of the punishment? A little bit of psychological torture? Harry stole a glance at Mipsy who looked at Harry with wide eyes and drew her thumb across her throat and pretended to flop down dead with her tongue out. Then she sat up, and pointed threateningly at Harry, mouthing something that looked like “dead man walking” and snapped herself away with a loud CRACK. Well, shit.

“How was your morning, sir?” Harry asked, trying to feign nonchalance, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“Oh, it was wonderful. I’ve been sleeping on the sofa very comfortably. My back feels better than it ever has! I certainly didn’t require a pain reliever nor a pepper-up today, and thank Merlin for that, because my potion cabinets have to be locked and warded from now on, and not even I can conveniently access them any longer.” Severus said sarcastically as he retrieved both of the mentioned potions for himself from a safe in his bedroom and downed them both in one gulp.

“I’m really sorry about that, sir.” Harry said sheepishly, staring at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“You will be, because now I’m banning you from my potions stores, my personal lab and the school’s stores. I can’t ban you from the school lab because you require it for class, but I would that I could.” Severus said as he sat in the armchair across from Harry and rubbed his temples. His voice was quiet, but deadly, laced with warning.

“That’s rubbish, what if I need a potion?!” Harry shouted and Severus gave him a threatening glare.

“I personally think a potion is the last bloody thing you need. But if you do truly have an emergency and require one to save your life, you can go to the infirmary like everyone else.” Severus retorted bitterly.

“Whatever.” Harry muttered, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. Severus rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“Please tell me you didn’t expect this to go unpunished? Especially after the lengthy discussion we had when you abused the Dreamless Sleep potion the first time?” Severus asked incredulously, and Harry felt a stab of guilt.

“No, of course not, I know I fucked up, okay? I deserve to be punished, yeah, but like… can’t you just make me write a million lines or make me scrub cauldrons for you until I graduate or something?” Harry said with a panicky edge to his voice. He barely ever slept as it was, while taking the potion, without it he would probably go insane from sleep deprivation.

“No. I warned you. You're playing a very dangerous game, Harry, and I won’t sit back and watch you develop an addiction, or kill yourself with an overdose. You’ve proven you can’t be trusted to follow your regimen and take potions responsibly, and now you won’t be taking them at all.” Severus replied with a note of finality in his voice, which did nothing but set Harry off.

“Well that’s just bloody fantastic! How the hell am I supposed to get any sleep now? That’s the only reason I took the damn potion off schedule!” Harry shouted.

“You should have thought about that when you deliberately disobeyed my instructions!” Severus shouted back. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing in a much softer voice, “you have practically mastered occlumency and you can use it to clear your mind before sleeping, that will be much safer than relying on a potion anyway.”

“I’m pants at occlumency! That’s how this whole fucking thing started, is because of goddamn occlumency!”

“Watch your language!”

“Oh, fuck you Snape, when have you ever cared about my language before?”

“You might want to learn when to back down, Potter! I will not tolerate you disrespecting me in my own private quarters!” Severus roared, slamming his fist down on the armrest of the chair. Harry had never seen him so bothered. Usually Severus was unshakably calm, cool and collected. He hid his emotions behind an impenetrable wall of occlumency, the majority of the time, and it was hard to ever guess how the man was really feeling. But now, he was sweating, and there was a little bit of spit in the corner of his mouth, his hair looked disheveled and he was wearing an expression of absolute fury with his crooked teeth bared. Harry felt a pang of fear of his potions professor for the first time in a very long time.

Neither of them said anything for a while, just staring at each other in a tense silence. Severus stood up and went to the kitchen and started putting the tea kettle on to boil.

“I’m sorry, Severus.” Harry said quietly, so low that he wasn’t sure if the man would even hear him, but Severus turned to face him.

“I forgive you, Harry, but I will not tolerate you speaking to me like that, not now and not ever. I don’t disrespect you, I would appreciate the same treatment. We’re closer than that, I think anyways. I am only taking you off of the potions because I care about you, and the way you’re going, you’re going to end up really hurting yourself. I only ever want to help you, Harry. I will help you get to sleep in a safer way, should you struggle off of the potion. But I cannot in good conscience allow you to carry on stealing and overdosing like that isn’t a major problem.” Severus said calmly, walking back over towards Harry to join him on the sofa.

“I am sorry for swearing at you, disrespecting you, and stealing from you. I am not sorry for taking the potions, however. I need to sleep and with everything that has been going on I can’t sleep without it.” Harry said firmly.

“That’s exactly why I won’t let you take it anymore, Harry. Dreamless Sleep cannot replace the real, natural sleep that your body and mind require. Tonight I will help you get into a state of relaxation that will allow you to sleep without the aid of potions. Please don’t fight me on this, Harry, let me help you.” Severus said urgently. Seeing the look in Severus’ eyes stomped out the defiant part of Harry’s brain that wanted to argue and throw a fit. The man clearly hadn’t been able to fully restore his occlumency shields yet, after their fight, because his eyes were sad, and scared and lost. Harry nodded, giving in finally.

“Alright, I guess.” Harry sighed and leaned in closer to the man, who pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Harry. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is for you, but we will get through it together.” Severus promised, and Harry tried his best to believe it.

*******

It was a Friday, and Severus wrote a pass for Harry to be excused from class for the remainder of the day, but the man refused to let him sit around and sulk, and sent him off to the library to work on his ever-growing pile of homework.

Harry was nervous to be out on his own in the castle, but he decided he would grow a back bone and tell off anyone who tried to fuck with him. Whether it be one of the Gryffindors, or a professor or Voldemort himself, Harry was sick of feeling like he had to tiptoe around the castle and avoid everyone like the plague. He didn’t want to admit the level of anxiety he had over simply going to the library by himself, but he refused to allow it to stop him. Like Severus had said, Harry had just as much of a right to be here as anyone else…right?

He chose a seat at a table right by the door, thankful that the library was mostly empty right now due to classes still being in session. Harry wasted no time getting to work. He had an exorbitant amount to work on. He finished his charms essay (finally), as well as finished the readings for transfiguration and defense. He was halfway through his potions essay when Draco Malfoy joined him at the table.

“Too good for classes and meals, are we now, Potter?” Draco said teasingly, though Harry could see concern written all over the boy's face that made him feel kinda weird, but weird in a good way. Over the past few weeks, Draco had turned out to be a pretty decent friend. Harry had been a little suspicious at first, of whether he could really trust Draco or not, but the boy had been nothing but good to him since their first interaction in the Great Hall earlier that term, so Harry chose not to overthink it.

Harry had confided in Draco a little bit of what he had faced while living with the Dursleys, and even the small amount Harry had been willing to share had made Draco absolutely outraged on Harry’s behalf. It was actually kind of endearing, he had never seen Draco so shook up, and to know that he was that angry because of what Harry had gone through was touching. Nobody had ever really cared about Harry suffering through bullshit, it was basically the norm.

Since that day, both boys had opened up to each other, allowing themselves to be vulnerable and honest about their pasts like they had never been able to do with another person before. Harry had told Draco about his tendency toward self harm. Draco told Harry about how his father had never once hugged him, or said he loved him. Harry told Draco about the cupboard. Draco told Harry about being punished with Unforgivables since he was a toddler. Harry told Draco about Umbridge. Draco showed Harry his own scars from detention with her; I will not become a dark wizard.

Harry would have never believed how much he actually had in common with Draco Malfoy before developing this unexpected friendship, but as time went on and they became closer and closer yet, Harry wondered how the hell he made it all these years without him.

“Yeah, Malfoy, I’m way too good for that kind of peasantry. You are too, you just haven’t caught on yet.” Harry drawled sarcastically, offering the other boy a chocolate frog. Draco took it happily as he began taking out his own textbooks and homework.

“Oh, no, I have caught on, it’s just who else but a Malfoy could keep everyone on their toes? This place would go to shit without me, as you very well know.”

“Oh, of course, how foolish of me!” Harry said, slapping his forehead comically. Draco chuckled and shook his head.

“I forgive you Potter, I know how hard it is, thinking and stuff, with that tiny, defective brain of yours.”

“At least it’s just my brain that’s tiny and defective, if ya know what I mean?” Harry said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, which caused both boys to snort loudly with laughter, earning them a stern look from Madam Pince. Harry muttered an apology to her, and turned back to his homework.

“So, are you really okay Harry? When you didn’t show up to any classes yesterday and I didn’t see you in the Great Hall I was worried. Did something happen?” Draco asked quietly, and Harry offered him a small smile.

“Thank you, Draco. Yeah, I’m okay. I did something kind of stupid and drank a bunch of Dreamless Sleep that I stole from Snape. I slept through the whole day yesterday and woke up this afternoon. Snape was pissed, he banned me from taking potions from now on but I guess I deserved that cause this is the second time I’ve done it.” Harry answered honestly. It felt good to have someone he could talk about these kinds of things with freely without feeling judged, or being criticized. Harry would have never thought Draco to be a person capable of compassion or understanding, but he was actually a really great listener.

“I’m sorry that happened. I’m really glad you’re okay. I won’t tell you how dangerous that stuff can be, cause I’m sure Snape has already given you the full lecture, but still… don’t do anything like that again, okay? I would hate to lose you, at this point you’re literally my closest friend. I care about you a lot, Harry. You can always talk to me and I will try and help you through anything.” Draco said softly, grabbing Harry by the hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Harry squeezed his hand back and ran his thumb absentmindedly over Draco’s knuckles.

“Thank you, Draco, that means more to me than I can even tell you. I care about you too. It was just a lot that happened that day, I was so overwhelmed and I have such a hard time sleeping as it is, I was really scared that when I went to sleep I’d have horrible nightmares. I know that’s a stupid, pathetic excuse, but sometimes the nightmares are even worse than the shit that actually happened, ya know?”

“It’s not stupid or pathetic, Harry. I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, but I’ve suffered from some pretty horrific nightmares myself… especially after the Death Eater meetings that father dragged me to over the summer… one thing that helped me a lot, is this one relaxation potion made specifically for a bath. I know Snape banned you from potions, but maybe this would be different since you wouldn’t be ingesting any, I could go with you to talk with him if you think that would help?” Draco offered.

“He said that tonight he would help me with some relaxation techniques or something before bed, I can ask him about it then. Thanks, again. This shits been brutal, I couldn’t do it without you and Snape. It’s like you guys are the only good people within a mile radius of me.” Harry said sadly, and Draco sighed in understanding.

“It’s been hard for me too, but your friendship has made things… bearable.” He said after a while. Harry gave his hand another squeeze and they both returned to their work. The pair really worked well together. Draco was one of the smartest students in their year, and seemed to actually enjoy answering all of Harry’s questions, and he didn’t mind having to clarify things or explain them in different ways if something didn’t make sense. In what felt like no time at all, Harry found himself completely caught up with his homework, and even got a head start on some of next week’s assignments.

“We need to study and do homework together more often. This is like, the first time since I’ve started at Hogwarts that I feel like I have a real grasp on the theories behind everything. Especially with transfiguration. I’ve always done well enough in the subject but like, I don’t think I’ve ever even thought about the why and how of everything. You’re a bloody genius, Draco.” Harry said as they packed up their stuff. It was almost time for dinner, and they headed to the Great Hall to eat together before Harry returned to Severus’ quarters for the night.

“Yeah, that would be fine with me, anytime.” Draco said with a warm smile that brightened the boy’s whole face. Draco was so handsome, Harry thought to himself, feeling a blush creep up his neck and cheeks. He didn’t know why the thought embarrassed him, everyone could see objectively that Draco was one of the most attractive students in the school. Harry would have to be blind not to notice it. But right then, with that sweet, genuine smile that was just for him, Harry felt something in his chest flutter and he had to look away before Draco could see the stupid grin stuck on his face. He would have to compliment Draco more often, if just to see that smile again.

When they got to the Great Hall, dinner was in full swing. Harry took his usual place at the Slytherin table, Draco sitting beside him. Harry tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time he’d been to the Great Hall since his fight with Ron, and after the resortment announcement that Harry had missed, he could feel hundreds of eyes boring into his back like it was the first day all over again. As if sensing his unease, Draco leaned a bit closer to Harry and whispered, “ignore them” as he piled food into Harry’s plate for him.

Harry nodded a silent thanks, and dug into his food. The two ate in silence, just absorbing the conversations around them when Harry felt a tap on his back. His heart sunk in his chest as he turned and faced Ron and Hermione.

“Harry, is there any chance we could talk to you? Ron wants to apologize for everything the other day, and I really want to apologize for not having been a better friend to you this year.” Hermione said in a quiet, shaky voice. She looked awful. Her hair was frizzy and disheveled with fly aways sticking up in every direction. She had dark circles under her puffy red eyes, and her lower lip was chapped and bleeding where she had been working it nervously between her teeth.

“Hermione, I would have no problem talking to you alone, but I am not comfortable speaking to Ron at this point in time.” Harry said calmly, wanting to offer some kind of olive branch to Hermione, praying that their friendship meant enough to her that she would not push things with Ron.

“I understand, Harry, that’s completely fine with me, I appreciate that you’re even willing to speak with me.” Hermione said as a few tears fell down her cheeks. She was wringing her robes in her hands anxiously and looked so distraught in that moment that Harry practically leapt from his seat to pull her into a warm hug. She fell apart in his arms, shaking with desperate sobs.

“I’m-I’m so s-sorry, Harry! Y-you’re my bes-best friend and I-I-I don’t w-want to lose you!” She cried into his shoulder, and Harry stroked the back of her head comfortingly, holding her tightly.

“You didn’t lose me, Hermione, you’re my best friend in the whole world. It’s been awful trying to do all of this without you.” Harry whispered into her hair, and she cried even harder. They were getting a lot of stares from around the room but Harry didn’t care. He was just so happy to have Hermione back, even if Ron was glaring daggers at them both. Draco, however, was not impressed with the dirty looks being thrown and decided to say something.

“Is there a reason why you’re still standing there, looking stupid, Weasley?” Draco asked loudly, sneering at Ron. That earned him a hearty chuckle from the surrounding Slytherins. Ron turned beet red and clenched his fists at his side.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Malfoy.” Ron spat viciously, and Draco laughed darkly.

“Why don’t you make me, weasel? You should go back to your table, if you know what’s good for you.”

“You couldn’t handle this, ferret, I’d break your fucking neck.” Ron growled, brandishing his wand. Harry pulled himself away from Hermione to stand in between the two boys.

“Don’t fuckin talk to him like that… Just go back to your table.” Harry said fiercely, and Ron gave him an incredulous look before shaking his head and turning away.

“Alright, Harry. You have fun with your new boyfriend and the rest of the snakes, I’ll be seeing you.” Ron said over his shoulder before walking away. Hermione looked at him furiously before turning back to Harry.

“I’m so sorry about him.” She said, defeatedly. Harry was about to reassure her when Draco spoke up again.

“You don’t need to apologize for him, Granger. His words and his actions are his own and in no way reflect you. It was good of you to come over and apologize to Harry. That’s all you can do, you can’t control what anyone else decides to do.” Draco said softly, and Hermione nodded, seeming to take his words to heart.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She said quietly, folding her arms around herself uncomfortably. Harry gave her a reassuring smile.

“You’re welcome to sit with us if you’d like?” Harry offered and she hesitated for a second before shaking her head.

“Thank you, Harry. I might take you up on that next time, but for now I think Im heading to bed. Thanks for talking with me… and you too Draco. Goodnight, guys.” Hermione said, and they both wished her goodnight before she walked away.

“Thank you for being nice to her.” Harry said quietly, as they finished their meal and stood to leave, and Draco shrugged.

“Anything for the Chosen One.”

*******

Harry made his way down to the dungeons with Draco by his side, and they bid each other goodnight when Draco turned to enter the Slytherin common room and Harry turned down the corridor that led to Severus’ quarters.

The potions professor was sat on the sofa, reading a book, when Harry walked in.

“Hey” Harry greeted simply. He was still feeling a bit awkward after their fight earlier, but Severus gave him a warm smile and returned the greeting easily, in a show of peace.

“Good evening. How was your day?” Severus asked, setting his book down and going to the kitchen to start on tea.

“It was okay. I caught up on all of my homework, Draco helped me. Then at dinner Hermione actually apologized to me.” Harry said, settling down on the sofa where Severus had vacated.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s real good. I love Hermione.” Harry said, and Severus gave him an odd look.

“Really? I hadn’t realized you and Miss Granger were… involved?” Severus asked, looking slightly uncomfortable. Harry blushed and shook his head quickly.

“No, no, I didn’t- I don’t love her like that. I just meant she is my best friend and I am happy that we’re on good terms again.” Harry corrected, and Severus nodded in acknowledgment.

“Ah. I see. Well I am very glad that you have your friend back.” Harry thanked him and pulled off his shoes, when he glanced to the right and saw a new door in Severus’ quarters that he was sure had never been there before. Severus followed his gaze and smiled.

“I thought it would be a good idea to add a room for you down here. After spending two nights on that sofa I’ve come to realize that it is not a proper place for anyone to be sleeping.” Severus said, opening the door and waving Harry inside. The room was about the same size as his room at Spinners End, only the walls were painted navy blue and brown, and the floors were a mahogany hardwood. There was a four poster bed, a desk and a wardrobe.

“You really had this room made for me? That’s unbelievable!” Harry stammered, pulling the man into an embrace. The room was fairly basic, but Harry really did love it and he was touched that Severus had made it specifically for him.

“Yes, well, like I said, that bloody sofa... Now, if you need to seek refuge from the other Slytherins, you have a private place you can go to.” Severus said, returning the hug tightly.

They went back to the parlour where Harry curled up on one side of the sofa, and Severus sat beside him once he fetched their tea. The man’s suggested relaxation techniques included spending the night listening to music from Severus’ charmed radio, and chatting about nothing of any importance. Harry suffered through a couple games of chess, and Severus humored him with a few games of Battleship, which Harry insisted they play because he never had, before.

Harry took a long bath with a mild topical calming draught, which he hadn’t even had to suggest to Severus, the man had already planned for it. They ate a hearty second dinner supplied happily by the Hogwarts house-elves. Late that night, after everyone else in the castle had long since retired to bed, after Severus bid him goodnight, Harry curled up in his new bed in his new room in Severus’ quarters. For the first time in over a year, he slept through the night dreamless and peaceful without consuming potions.

Chapter 13: A Lovely Day in Hogsmeade

Notes:

TW: self harm

(Harry)

The Friday before the first Hogsmeade weekend left everyone in the school practically buzzing with excitement, and the professors put little effort into reeling in all of the chatter. Harry was nervous and miserable and contemplated begging Fred and George for some of their Skiving Snacks to feign sick, but he didn’t know how friendly the two still would be to him at this point. The thought of that put him even further on edge, any time that any of the Weasleys crossed his mind these days it did.

The Weasleys had been more of a family to him than his own blood relatives ever had. Ron was his first ever friend, and until last year during their fight over the Tournament, Harry had truly thought of him as a brother. Along the way, somehow, they had drifted, and now Harry wasn’t sure they could ever find their way back to each other, and it broke his heart.

Molly and Arthur were as lovely to him as they’d ever been. He doubted they would ever speak an unkind word to him, even if none of their children had anything to do with him anymore, he was absolutely positive he would still receive one of Molly’s infamous knitted Weasley sweaters every Christmas.

And then there was Ginny… the whole reason for Harry’s upset stomach and trembling hands, today. His feelings for Ginny were complicated. Of course he loved her, she was amazing. Who wouldn’t love her? With her sweet disposition, warm like the sun itself? But Harry wasn’t attracted to her, a fact he had come to fully realize after what had happened in the library. He wasn’t sure he was attracted to anyone, nor probably could he ever be. He was too damaged and his life was too chaotic to entertain the thought of loving anyone, in that kind of way.

That’s why he’d planned on having a friendly, strictly platonic, outing with her, and making his intentions to just remain friends perfectly clear. But nothing ever really goes as planned, does it?

Saturday morning Ginny met Harry just outside the Great Hall and immediately linked her arm with his and planted a kiss on his cheek. His face flushed, and Harry internally kicked himself for not dying in his sleep the night before. Harry, rather unceremoniously, detached himself from Ginny’s hold and put at least a foot of space between them, and pretended not to notice her smile drop. He didn’t want to hurt Ginny’s feelings, but he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, either. She was bold, and confident, she had no problem going after whatever she wanted. Harry was wrong for allowing things to go the way they did in the library, but it wasn’t something he would allow to happen again.

“Morning, Gin. So what would you like to do today?” Harry asked politely, letting his eyes wander into the crowd of students, not looking at anything in particular, but refusing to meet her eyes.

“I thought maybe we could have tea at Madam Pudifoots?” Ginny replied, a faint blush beginning to creep up on her own cheeks. Harry tried not to grimace at the suggestion. Madam Pudifoots was the most popular cafe in Hogsmeade, because of its overwhelmingly romantic and sappy atmosphere. The only ever patrons were couples, and Harry was getting anxious. He didn’t want to ruin Ginny’s day, she had already seemed so disappointed just from detangling their arms from one another’s, so he agreed to go against his better judgement.

The walk into Hogsmeade was pleasant, they chatted conversationally about Quidditch and classes, and Harry began to relax a bit. The moment they stepped into the cafe, however, Ginny reattached herself to his side firmly and Harry knew he’d made a huge mistake agreeing to come here. Every table donned a bouquet of roses, the air was thick with a heavily perfumed incense, and the lighting was dim with only a faint pink glow. It was romantic and sensual and it felt like Cupid himself decorated the place, then crawled up and died inside it. If Harry had thought he was having a difficult time establishing his intentions with Ginny in the Great Hall, it would be practically impossible here.

“Huh, I’ve never been to this place before. Kind of, I dunno, suffocating a bit, innit?” Harry said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing, but his words came out much harsher than he intended.

“I think it’s nice. A perfect place for a date on a lovely Saturday.” Ginny replied warmly, apparently not having noticed Harry’s discomfort at all.

“Is that what this is, then?” Harry asked, looking around. Ginny laughed her beautiful sparkly laugh and reached forward for Harry’s hand.

“I thought that was obvious after… everything.” Ginny said sheepishly. Harry finally looked at her, and felt his stomach drop like he’d missed a step going down the stairs. She looked so beautiful in this lighting, with her red hair cascading over her shoulders in gorgeous ringlets that must have taken her forever to style just right. Her warm chocolate eyes hooded and misty, looking at him like he was the only person in the whole world.

Harry felt like the biggest piece of shit who had ever lived. What on Earth could she possibly see in him, anyway? Behind his scar, behind the fame and the titles and the never ending expectations, Harry was nothing. Just a boy. He wasn’t very handsome, with his unruly tresses of hair and his lanky stature. He wasn’t very smart, or funny. He often times had a horrible attitude, he was much too quick to frustration, and above everything else, he was fucked up beyond all measure.

While Ginny was the sun personified, nothing but light and warmth and everything good that could ever exist, Harry was darkness. Thick, suffocating, oppressive darkness, that would leave her shivering, breathless and drained. He would destroy the perfect angel that was Ginevra Weasley. Taint her beautiful soul with his poison. If she only knew…

But that was just it. She didn’t know. She had no fucking idea. She had feelings for him before they’d even properly met. The Harry Potter she had her stupid little crush on didn’t really exist. He was fictitious. A storybook character. A martyr for the Light. A hero. A saviour. She didn’t know the real Harry at all. Not even one bit. Would she still feel the same way about him if she did?

Would she still want him if she knew about the Dursleys? If she knew he was so pathetic and weak that he couldn’t even handle himself with a few mediocre muggles? Would she still want to touch him like that if she knew about the only other person who ever had? Would she still feel the same if she knew just how often he tore into his own flesh and prayed to never wake up again? Would it even matter if she did? Harry couldn’t lie to himself. He couldn’t lie to her. She deserved better, while Harry deserved nothing. Wanted nothing. Could love, or be loved by, nothing.

“Gin… I don’t think I’m ready to date anyone right now. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a really great friend, and you are so so so beautiful- you look really pretty today by the way- I just am in a rough place right now and I don’t want to drag you down into all my shit.” Harry said quietly, squeezing Ginny’s hand, but the second he finished speaking she pulled away as if she’d been burnt.

“Well… well then why did you bring me here?” Ginny asked him after a while of simmering in a tense silence. Harry looked down, and picked at his nails.

“I’m sorry Ginny, I just didn’t want to disappoint you.” He said softly, and she huffed in frustration.

“Oh yes, how ever could I live without the affections of the Boy-Who-Lived!” She said indignantly, her words dripping with uncharacteristic sarcasm. “Thank you for trying to spare me from the heartbreak, Harry. Sorry you couldn’t quite stomach it.” Harry’s jaw dropped and he fumbled for something to say that would somehow fix this situation he found himself in.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that at all. It’s not you, I promise, you’re perfect, it’s me who’s garbage.” He said quickly, raising his hands in surrender.

“Spare me, Harry. If there’s some other girl, that’s fine with me, but just say so. There are plenty of grindylows in the loch, for either one of us. You know Dean invited me here and I turned him down for you?” Ginny hissed. She looked more angry than Harry had ever seen her, and he bent down and put his head on the table.

“You should be with Dean, Ginny, you guys would make a nice couple. I’m sure he would make you very happy.” Harry said, trying his best to be amicable, but Ginny gave him an incredulous look.

“You hate Dean! Everyone knows you do, how could you be fine with it if I go steady with him?! After everything we did?” Ginny demanded, and Harry’s stomach dropped again. How could he tell her that it was because of what they did that Harry decided he didn’t want to be with her?

“If you like him you should date him regardless of what I think. It’s your life Ginny, I want you to do what makes you happy.” Harry said earnestly, reaching for her hand once more. Just because he didn’t want to date Ginny didn’t mean he didn’t love her and care for her. He hated the thought of her being so upset with him.

“You want me to do what makes me happy, Harry?” She asked, her voice low. Harry nodded encouragingly.

“Absolutely.”

He hardly had time to get the word out before she lunged over the table and planted a kiss right on his lips. He pulled back, shocked and quite frankly pissed off.

“What the hell, Ginny! I just told you I don’t like you that way!” Harry exclaimed, a little more loudly than he had wanted, causing quite a few of the other patrons to turn their heads towards them. Ginny looked very embarrassed and backed away from him a bit.

“You told me to do what makes me happy, and that’s you, Harry. It’s always been you.” Ginny said in a quiet voice. Harry was well past his point of patience, however, and could hardly control the anger that was pouring out of him for Ginny’s nerve to advance on him yet again. After everything he’d said, she really hadn’t heard a single word.

“No means no. Acting like a shameless fuckin slut isn’t gonna change my mind.” Harry growled before spitting on the floor at her feet and storming out of the cafe, leaving her there with tears streaming down her face.

*******

Harry lost most of his steam on his march back to the castle. He found his anger quickly replaced with sheer panic, and blind terror. He knew that he was fucked once Ron, Fred and George caught wind of what Harry had just done to their baby sister. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuuuuckkkk.

Harry’s heart felt like a bass drum in his chest, thundering against his ribs, crushing every bit of air out of his lungs. He tried to draw a breath, and couldn’t. He sank down to the ground and dug his fingers into the grass, tearing it up from the roots. His chest was heaving, a ragged groan erupting from his throat with each gasp of breath he struggled to take. He felt like he was drowning at the bottom of the Black Lake again, with a million gallons of water separating him from the air he so desperately craved. He saw stars and black spots in his vision before he finally passed out.

Harry came around after only a few minutes. That wasn’t his first panic attack by any means, but by far the most intense, and the only one that had ever caused him to lose consciousness. Waking up all alone on the Hogwarts grounds was an extremely disorienting and lonely experience that would have been quite melancholic if it weren’t for the fact that Harry was still in fight or flight mode and needed desperately to find a place to hide from the wrath of the Weasleys.

Harry couldn’t think of a single place to go. He couldn’t see Severus when he was like this. The man absolutely would not leave well enough alone and he couldn’t stomach the thought of confessing to how disrespectfully he had treated Ginny. He had been upset because she kissed him, but so fucking what? She was just a young girl, he had led her to believe they were on a date, only for him to try to dump her! And then when she fought for him, with a sweet little kiss, he spat at her and called her a slut. And then he just left her there…

Harry was absolutely disgusted and ashamed of himself. Why the hell had he done that to her?! Why would he treat her that way?! Ginny???!!! Of all people?! Severus would be so disappointed with him if he found out. Molly and Arthur would hate him, now, beyond any shadow of doubt. Soon all of Gryffindor would know. Shortly followed by the other houses. There was no excuse for how he had acted, he should have just accepted the kiss for what it was and said nothing. He should have been thankful that anyone in this world would care about him enough to fight for him like that. But he just spat at her and insulted her and fled like a coward. And now he was hiding from her brothers, who would be furious, and rightly so.

He had been wandering the castle with his wand at the ready, looking for a place to hide himself away, when he found himself on the seventh floor in a corridor with a dead end. Unsure of where to go next, he paced around for a bit, lost in his spiraling thoughts, and suddenly a door appeared right before his eyes. Harry’s breath caught in his chest, because it was a door he would recognize anywhere. He reached for the knob on the slatted door with peeling beige paint and opened it slowly with trembling fingers to step inside.

It was his cupboard. Because of course it was.

He closed the door behind him as he crouched down onto the soiled crib mattress on the floor and huddled his knees to his chest. He had no idea why the bloody cupboard was here, or why the magic of Hogwarts worked the way it did. He had searched for a place to hide and so he had found his most familiar one. The place where the Dursleys had hid his freakishness away from the world. The place where he would hide from their torment.

He kneeled on the floor rocking back and forth trying to staunch his racing thoughts to no avail. He tried to put up his occlumency shields, but his mental walls were all but completely crumbled to nothing. He shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold and much to his surprise a thick goose-down comforter magically appeared and layed itself comfortably on top of him.

It must be the room responding to what it thought he wanted. A spot of tea wouldn’t be half bad, he thought to himself and a full tea service complete with biscuits, sandwiches and even hot chocolate appeared in an instant. He spent the next few hours distracting himself, dreaming up more and more ridiculous feats and demands of the mysterious room before deciding he better return to Severus’ quarters without cutting it too close to curfew.

The moment he left the room, the door disappeared, leaving behind an empty corridor once again. The refuge he had found in the Mysterious Room had been a wonderful distraction for a while, but now he only just started to realize how dangerously close he was to Gryffindor tower and he contemplated staying there for the night.

Not wanting to linger in the hallway for much longer than necessary, Harry began his brisk jog to the dungeons. He didn’t get far however when he heard the noise he’d been dreading more than anything. The booming voice of Ron Weasley behind him.

“OI, PRICK!”

Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Harry had no idea what to do, and his feet were cemented to the floor while his brain struggled to come up with a perfect solution right there on the spot. No such bright idea ever came to him, however, and soon enough Ron’s hands were gripping his shoulders painfully and pushing him down to the ground.

Ron’s fists collided with Harry’s face at such force and velocity that there was undoubtedly quite a bit of magic backing every punch. Let it never be said that Ron Weasley can’t fuckin fight. Harry could feel his nose and his eye sockets breaking and mending over and over again as Ron unleashed his fury.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY SISTER YOU FUCKIN CUNT?!” Ron bellowed, his flow of punches never slowing for a second. Harry opened his mouth stupidly to respond and Ron’s fist connected with his jaw, breaking it with a sickening snap. It took longer than usual for that to mend, as Harry’s magic scrambled to heal the onslaught of damage he was taking. If it weren’t for his impeccable healing ability, Harry’s head would probably be little more than sludge by now.

Despite the brutality of the beating he was receiving, Harry didn’t lift a finger against Ron. He just laid there and took it and after an unreasonably long time, or so it felt to Harry, finally teachers and students alike poured into the corridor to witness the spectacle. Severus pulled Harry back from the assault by his armpits, while professors Flitwick and McGonagall held back a flailing and screaming Ron.

“LET ME AT THAT FUCKER! WHO THE FUCK SAID I WAS DONE?!” Ron bellowed, bucking at Harry furiously despite his broken bleeding hands with fingers bending every which way at weird angles. “LOOK AT THIS FREAK! THERE AIN'T A SCRATCH ON HIM! NO, NO! LOOK, HE CAN TAKE MORE! LET ME THE FUCK AT HIM!”

“That will be quite enough, Mister Weasley!” McGonagall shouted, hitting Ron between the eyes with a silencio as she attempted to drag him away towards the Headmaster’s office. Severus pulled Harry towards the dungeons without a word to anyone.

When they got to Severus’ quarters the man all but shoved Harry onto the sofa and performed a diagnostic spell on him. Of course the parchment came back empty, but still Severus cupped Harry’s face and looked over his nose, and in his ears, and shined his lighted wand tip into his eyes.

“What the hell happened, Harry?” He finally asked, exasperatedly. Harry shrugged and kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Nothing Severus. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” Harry replied quietly, fidgeting with his fingers and bouncing his leg furiously.

“Don’t worry about it? Don’t be a fucking idiot, Harry. Of course I’m worried about it! I’m your Head of House, it is my job to protect you. Further than that you are my charge and that means I am directly responsible for your well being! I just witnessed Mr. Weasley’s attempted murder of you with my own two eyes, you will not lie to me and say you’re fine.” Severus snapped. Harry chuckled darkly, feeling his pent up frustration over the day finally spilling over.

“Oh, but didn’t you read the parchment? Healthy as a horse, Severus! Didn’t you hear Ron? Not a scratch on me! It’s fucking just fine. It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve, in fact I deserved much worse.” Harry said matter of factly, looking into Severus’ eyes now.

“Harry, nobody deserves to be fucking bludgeoned like that! Why didn’t you defend yourself, fight back or put up a bloody shield charm or something?” Severus implored, his eyes frantic and wild. Harry could feel the magic charge like static electricity rolling off of the man in waves.

“Because, what would it fucking matter? Of course I wouldn’t fight Ron back, I would never hurt him! I wouldn’t ever hurt anyone that I care about! At this point, Severus, I probably wouldn’t fight back anyone except Voldemort his fuckin self, and that’s only because I have to or everyone in the wizarding world will be royally fucked!” Harry shouted. Severus looked at him absolutely dumbstruck, with his mouth hanging open.

“You are ridiculous, Harry!” Severus finally shouted indignantly after several seconds of searching for what to say.

“Yes, ridiculous, horrible, stupid, ugly, freakish, the list goes on and on and on!” Harry roared, gripping both sides of his head in his hands.

“Harry, stop, I didn’t say any of those things.” Severus said, his voice much quieter and more gentle now, and he kneeled in front of Harry placing a hand on his knee comfortingly. But Harry was too far gone. His anger and anxiety had grown to a point of physical pain. His stomach hurt, his head was pounding. He thought he could feel the blood rushing through his veins. Taste the adrenaline in the back of his throat. As if he could see into Harry’s mind, which he probably could as Harry hadn’t been able to reinforce his occlumency shields since that morning, Severus began to rub soothing circles into Harry’s back as he muttered reassurances and encouragements, trying to coax Harry back from the edge.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Severus, what anyone does to me. There’s never any evidence. I heal, like, the split fucking second that something happens as if nothing had ever happened at all. Ron could hit me non stop, all day, every single day, for the rest of his life and it would do nothing. My aunt and uncle set me on fire, Severus, and it did nothing.” Harry cried, wiping furiously at the treacherous tears streaming down his face. Harry slashed his wand at his wrist, producing a deep gash that sloshed his blood all over the floor with a sickening squelching sound, and Severus inhaled sharply and started to rise, but before he could even get to his feet, Harry’s wound sealed shut without so much as a scar left behind.

“See?” Harry said, slashing himself furiously over and over again. “It doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Stop! Expelliarmus!” Severus shouted, and Harry’s wand went flying into Severus’ outstretched hand immediately. Harry sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around himself, rocking slightly back and forth. Severus crouched down beside him and held him tight.

“Don’t ever do that again, Harry. Never hurt yourself.” Severus pleaded quietly, resting his chin atop Harry’s head that he had buried into Severus' shoulder.

“Who cares, Severus? Do you know how much shit people have done to me? Do you even fucking realize half the shit that I’ve lived through already?! It literally doesn’t matter! People can do whatever the hell they want to me, Severus, they always have and they always will! I tried reporting my fucking relatives! No physical evidence could be found, and then I got it twice as fucking hard for running my mouth! There’s no point in fighting back, I could never fight them all!” Harry sobbed. He was viciously scratching at his wrists and Severus struggled to restrain his arms without also hurting him.

“Harry- fucking- STOP! Harry! I care about you! I am RIGHT HERE, I won’t let anyone hurt you, I won’t let you hurt yourself!” Severus stammered while struggling to hold Harry, who was fighting with his full strength now to claw at his face and neck with bloody fingernails.

“I just want to die! I fucking hate it! I hate it here!” Harry pleaded, his voice hoarse from all of the screaming. He was still thrashing around wildly and Severus was still holding him in a restraint, and eventually Harry exhausted himself and slumped to the ground in defeat, sobbing brokenly, but no longer attempting to claw his skin off.

Severus held him for a long time after that, rocking him and brushing his sweaty hair out of his face, whispering calming reassurances to him and rubbing circles on his back. Harry leaned into the comfort and found himself clinging to the man like a drowning person to a life raft. He was so angry, so hurt, desperate and defeated.

He would have let Ron kill him gladly, that was true, but somewhere deep down, Harry knew the boy never would have been able to do it. He didn’t know the full extent of his healing powers, but there was a part of Harry that was very, very afraid that truly nothing could take him away from this place. That he would be stuck here, forever and ever, never to know the peaceful release that he was so sure Death would bring. That was Harry’s biggest fear. Where most people feared death, Harry feared living. Living through all of the pain. Living without a speck of love or a sliver of happiness. Living despite the hell of it all. Living forever. Living until there was nothing and nobody left but him.

He didn’t know how long they sat there, huddled on the floor together. Harry may have even fallen asleep at one point, but when he woke Severus was still there holding onto him just as tight. Eventually when Harry had completely calmed, and his breathing was even and slow, Severus helped him up off of the floor and guided him to his room. Harry let himself be led like a dog, every last bit of energy and will and humanity had been drained from him. He was just a shell, after all. A wraith. Going through the motions because that’s what Severus was making him do.

Severus transfigured Harry’s robes into pajamas for him and when Harry climbed into bed, Severus conjured for him what must have been the world's most comfortable blanket and tucked him in as if he were a small child. Any other time, Harry would feel indignant about the gesture, maybe even feel that Severus was condescending him or poking fun. But right now, with his heart flayed wide open, Harry relished in the comfort.

Harry had never once been held or consoled by another person so attentively, especially after an outburst the likes of which he’d just had. Any time he so much as shed a tear at the Dursleys, even as a small child, he was mocked, punished or turned away and never once comforted. And yet, here Severus was, just his professor, really nothing to him, offering that care, that kindness, that affection, so freely and unconditionally like nobody else ever had, or probably ever would.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed and Harry curled back up against him, feeling raw, humiliated and vulnerable after the events of the day, and he half worried that Severus would get annoyed or flustered with it. But the man never said a word of protest, he just pulled Harry closer to his side and carded his fingers through his hair.

“Severus?” Harry said, his voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible.

“Yes Harry?”

“Can you stay here with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” Severus answered easily, adjusting himself more comfortably on the bed beside him. Harry laid down and Severus hummed a low tune that Harry didn’t recognize but found to be so soothing that soon he drifted off into an exhausted slumber.

*******

Harry woke up the following morning very early, just before sunrise, to find that Severus had stayed the whole night. The man was sleeping now, his mouth slightly hanging open and his harsh features relaxed, making him appear much younger than usual. His arm was still protectively wrapped around Harry who’s head was shamelessly laying on Severus’ chest. Harry knew he should move, and give the obviously exhausted man some space, or let him go get some real sleep in his own bed, but instead Harry found himself snuggling in closer and tentatively wrapping his arms around Severus’ midsection, and even in his sleep, Severus tightened his hold on Harry.

Harry didn’t know when his feelings about Severus had changed so drastically. He so clearly remembered a time when he absolutely hated the man. When they hated each other, and every word exchanged was a biting insult. It had been easier than Harry expected, however, to fall into a light camaraderie with him over the summer when they were stuck together. Friendship and ally-ship quickly followed, but now what Harry felt for the man was something much stronger than that.

Truthfully, Harry had such admiration and respect for Severus, more so than he could ever probably admit to either of them. The man had done everything in his power from the moment Harry was born to protect him. Even when they hadn’t gotten along, Severus had been there watching from the shadows, ready to jump in after him the second Harry needed. Laying here in the early morning, with Severus right next to him, made Harry feel more safe, and secure and cared for than he ever had in his life. He could feel the tears prickling behind his eyes as a rush of adoration for the man washed over him. He snuggled in closer and clenched his fists around Severus robes.

“I love you, Severus.” He whispered, so quietly he could hardly even hear himself. It was the first time he’d ever said those three stupid words out loud to someone, and in the quiet of the morning when he was the only person awake, Harry felt comfortable saying them. Knowing there would be no way for Severus to question him or reject him, it felt nice to say, and he meant it with all of his heart. As he closed his eyes and drifted back off into sleep, he could have sworn he felt Severus’ grip around him tighten ever so slightly.

“I love you too, sweet boy.” Severus said softly, his low voice thick with sleep.

*******

The next time Harry woke up, he was in his bed alone and the sun was shining in through his charmed window. His door was fully open, and the smell of bacon and sausage cooking out in the kitchen wafted in. It was a lovely morning, and Harry felt much better than he had the night before after his breakdown. But he felt embarrassed for having forced Severus to stay with him, and as the events of the day before suddenly came flooding back to him, he was even more humiliated over the way he had acted like a crazy person. He was dreading the inevitable conversation about it, as well as having to explain why he fought with Ron in the first place.

He took his sweet time taking a shower and getting dressed, and when he finally made his appearance in the kitchen, Severus thankfully seemed the same as always without even a hint of awkwardness in his demeanor. Harry took his seat across from where Severus sat, and a plate of food floated over to him. He let out a chuckle when he saw that Severus had prepared for him a breakfast smiley face with two fried egg eyes, sausage eyebrows and a bacon mouth. Harry couldn’t help but tear up yet again because of the sweet gesture. Even as he choked down his meal with tears and snot shamelessly leaking down his face, Severus thankfully didn’t mention it.

Once Harry had regained his composure and they’d both finished their meal, Severus took Harry’s hand in his and gave it a small squeeze.

“We need to talk about yesterday.” He said in a tone that was kind and patient, but also firm and resigned, letting Harry know there would be no getting out of this conversation.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said quietly, staring at the floor.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, but I forgive you nonetheless. First, let me ask you, are you okay? Do you still want to hurt yourself?” Severus asked. His voice had taken on a somewhat clinical tone.

“I always want to hurt myself. Every second of every day.” Harry said with brutal honesty, without any hesitation. His guard had officially crumbled when it came to Severus. The man had held him like a baby all night and made him a smiley face breakfast. If Harry couldn’t talk to Severus about his fucked up feelings, who could he ever tell? It was all beyond Harry, he couldn’t keep it all to himself anymore. Maybe Severus could help him through this, he had always helped him before. He couldn’t carry on the way he had been.

“Would you consider speaking to a mind healer?” Severus asked, and when Harry bristled at the question, Severus only squeezed Harry’s hand a little harder.

“I haven’t ever thought about it. I’m scared of that, though. I have a hard enough time talking about this shit with people I trust already…. And I don’t want people to think that I’m crazy.” Harry reluctantly admitted in a low voice.

“You’re not crazy, Harry. Many people struggle with these feelings you’re having and most of them are nowhere near as young as you are, nor have they been through half of what you have. If you would consider it, Madam Pomfrey is an established mind healer. You could talk to her, you already have a basic level of trust for her and she is right here in the castle. However, if you'd be more comfortable talking to someone else that can also be arranged, but I think you should consider it.”

Harry mulled over Severus’ words. Madam Pomfrey was always kind to him. She fussed over her patients in such a way that it never gave you room to feel embarrassed or question confiding in her.

“I would be willing to talk to Madam Pomfrey, I guess.” Harry said after a while and Severus looked genuinely pleased.

“That’s wonderful, Harry. I think that she will really be able to help you. Thank you for trying, for me. I know it’s difficult to speak about these things and acknowledge you need help with them. I am so proud of you.”

Harry blushed furiously at the praise that he didn’t feel at all like he deserved but he could admit to himself he felt some kind of relief at the thought of receiving help in any capacity from Madam Pomfrey.

“Can you please tell me what happened yesterday between you and Ron Weasley?” Severus then asked, and Harry’s heart sank.

“You’re gonna get really mad at me…” Harry whined, squirming in his seat, but Severus shook his head firmly.

“No I won’t, Harry, I promise. I won’t say a single word about it if you don’t want me to, but I really need to know.” Severus insisted, and Harry let out a long suffering sigh before telling him everything. He told Severus what he had allowed to happen between him and Ginny in the library, and how it had been eating away at him ever since. He told Severus about the disastrous date, and Ginny’s incessant advances, and Harry insulting her and leaving her there. He told him about the day he spent hiding from Ginny’s brothers in the Mysterious Room and how he was ultimately hunted down and caught anyway. Severus listened intently, and true to his word he didn’t say anything at all until Harry was finished speaking.

“While obviously your actions towards the end of your excursion with Miss Weasley were completely reprehensible, I think you know that. Furthermore, you were pushed to your limits on the matter over the span of weeks. I think you’ve been punished for it quite enough.” Severus said softly. Harry finally met his gaze and let out a shaky breath of relief when he didn’t find any judgement or anger in his expression.

“I would never treat someone as badly as I treated her. I’m so fucking ashamed of myself. I have no idea what to do to make amends, or if I even should try at this point. I’m public enemy number one with the Weasleys now.” Harry lamented.

“I think that you should give Miss Weasley some space for a few days and let things cool down, then maybe apologize to her in a letter.” Severus suggested, and Harry nodded noncommittally.

“Whatever you decide to do, I support your decision,” Severus said, and after a moment he leaned forward and continued, “I want you to understand something very important, Harry. You were given a gift, a very special gift of healing, and your power is extraordinary. In no way does that mean that it is okay for anyone to hurt you, or touch you without your consent, or even for you to hurt yourself. I don’t give one single fuck if there is physical evidence left behind, or not. You are a human being, with your own bodily autonomy. You have every right to walk this Earth without fear of anyone harming you. If someone ever turns their wand on you, or puts their hands on you, I want you- no, I demand that you defend yourself. Whether it be an enemy, a stranger, or Merlin forbid, someone you care about. You defend yourself with everything you have, Harry. Do you understand me?” Severus spoke after a while, his expression was fierce, and his tone had a somewhat icy resignation to it that told Harry just how serious he was. Harry nodded his head and tried to turn his gaze back to the floor, but Severus placed his hand under Harry’s chin and lifted his head back up to look at him.

“Listen to me Harry,” Severus urged, “If you ever listen to anything I say, I want this to be it. You are smart. You are unfailingly kind. You are loyal to your own detriment. You’re a good friend, an intelligent and hard working student, you are witty, and clever. You have a natural charm about you that attracts people of all walks of life. You’re a powerful wizard, and a wonderful person. Whether you can see it or not, whether anyone has ever done a good enough job of showing it to you or not, you are cared for. You are loved. So many people would be absolutely devastated to lose you, and not just because of some prophecy. The prophecy, and the war be damned. Your worth as a person, goes so far beyond your destiny, and Merlin only knows what that may be.

“While I know beyond any shadow of doubt that there are countless people who are rooting for you and standing in your corner, I truthfully can only speak for myself. So I will tell you now, that Harry, you are so very important to me. I love you, and I need you here on this Earth. You’re my closest friend, you’re my charge, you’re my only ally, and if I ever were to lose you, it would break my heart, Harry, it would shatter me to pieces. Please stay. I promise, I will protect you with everything I have, and help you through every single thing life throws at you. I will be right here by your side, always. Will you please try? Try to see the greatness that life has to offer? For me?” Severus pleaded. He was holding both of Harry’s hands in his, and while his eyes were dry, Harry could see the concern and worry written all over the man’s face. Harry had begun openly weeping less than halfway through Severus’ speech, and the moment the man stopped talking Harry all but flung himself into Severus’ warm embrace.

“Yes, I will try.” Harry choked out between sobs, and he could feel Severus’ shoulders untense themselves a little bit with relief.

“Thank you, I’m so proud of you, and I will always be here for you no matter what.” Severus assured once again, once they separated. He handed Harry a handkerchief, which he had needed desperately, and gave him some space to compose himself.

“Do you know what happened to Ron?” Harry eventually asked, dreading to hear the response. What if Harry had gotten him expelled?

“He is home with his parents. He received a two week suspension for his actions. I had initially pushed for suspension until the end of term but the Headmaster wouldn’t allow it.” Severus answered coldly, clearly very upset by Dumbledore’s decision about Ron’s punishment, but Harry was secretly thankful that it wasn’t too long before Ron would be allowed to return to the castle. He would have a hell of a time with the pile of homework that was going to accumulate.

“I’m sure that Miss Granger will help catch him up in no time at all.” Severus added, as if he could hear the wheels turning in Harry’s head.

“You’re right… She probably won’t want to be friends with me anymore, now, after she’s heard about what I did.” Harry said sadly.

“I wouldn’t give up on Miss Granger that easily, Harry. She is a very bright witch, and like you she is also incredibly kind and loyal. If she can still stand by Mr Weasley after everything he has said and done to you, then I’m sure she can be understanding about your incident with Ginevra.” Severus reassured him, and his words did help put Harry’s mind somewhat at ease.

*******

The following day, Harry spent most of his time in the library, and he was left unbothered until it was just about time to head to the Great Hall for dinner, when Hermione finally, hesitantly, joined him. He knew that she herself had been in the library for hours, working up the nerve to approach him, and he had thought she had decided against it, and then she sat at his table.

“Hi Hermione.” Harry greeted quietly. She gave him a soft smile and inclined her head toward him.

“I heard about what happened… with Ron, and um… with Ginny. Are you okay, Harry?” She asked, and the fact that she wasn’t screaming at him or hexing him before hearing his side of things brought him such relief that he began to cry once again.

“Mione… I really fucked up. I should have never, ever said those things to Ginny, or spat at her, I know that. I don’t have any excuse for my behavior. I’m just a huge piece of shit, honestly.” Harry cried, his words coming out louder and more broken than he intended, but Hermione just cast a silencing charm around them and reached for his hand.

“Harry, don’t say that. Everyone makes mistakes, just tell me what happened, okay? We can figure it out together.” She said reassuringly, giving him the warmest smile, and her sweetness towards him in that moment only made the tears flow even harder.

“Well, you see, Ginny has had a crush on me for quite a while, you know?” Harry started. He was a blubbering mess, but he owed his best friend a proper explanation. When she nodded at him encouragingly, he continued.

“Here’s the thing, Mione… Ginny doesn’t even really know me. She has had this crush on me since before we ever met. Well, anyways… Over the summer, we kissed. It was my first kiss, and it was really nice, but I didn’t really know if I liked her like that or anything. I hadn’t really ever given it a lot of thought, cause I’ve been so depressed. Then a few weeks ago she came up to my table in the library.

“Hermione, this is really embarrassing, but I don’t know how to explain without just telling you, so I’m sorry ahead of time for giving too much information… but she kind of… touched me, over my clothes, but still. And then she said that in return she would like me to take her to Hogsmeade. Well, I haven’t really ever talked much about this with anyone before, but when I was a kid, my uncle used to do stuff to me, and made me do stuff to him… like, sexually… and so when Ginny and I did that, it really fucking freaked me out. I know that sounds so fucking stupid and pathetic. But right around that same time, I was also practicing Occlumency with Snape, and so I had already been upset about fucked up memories of all of that.

“When I went to Hogsmeade with her, I had been trying to find a way the whole time to tell her that I just wanted to be friends after all. I’m not ready to be with anyone like that, I just… I can’t… and so I was trying to tell her that and she just wouldn’t listen, Hermione! She got really upset and said she was gonna go steady with Dean instead, and I told her to please do that, I want you to do whatever will make you happy, and then she grabbed me and kissed me again. I was already so worked up, and when she just did that anyways even after I’d said I wasn’t interested, I just fucking snapped. And I’m sorry! I wish to god I could take back what I said and did but, she just wouldn’t listen to me! And I told her no and she just fucking did it anyway!” Harry was shaking by the end of his explanation to Hermione, and he had been talking so animatedly that they were receiving many objecting looks even despite the silencing charms. Hermione had let him get everything off of his chest without interrupting him once, and she had kept hold of his hand the entire time.

“I’m so sorry for what your uncle did to you, Harry. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about it. I can understand your reaction given what you have been through, but I still think you should apologize when you’re ready. Just because it’s the right thing to do, not because what she did was okay. I think she also owes you an apology. Regardless of her feelings for you, she should have kept her hands to herself if you’d already told her you weren’t interested.” Hermione said, and Harry was so thankful for her, and so relieved that she understood his perspective and that she wasn’t disgusted by him or hating him. Just offering her friendship and support as she always had.

“Thank you Hermione. And I definitely plan on apologizing, I just think I should let things cool down a bit… wouldn’t want Ron to try and kill me again.” Harry replied lightly, trying to lighten the mood, but if anything Hermione soured at the mention of her boyfriend’s name.

“To hell with Ronald, Harry.” Hermione said darkly, and Harry chuckled but turned his gaze away from her and to the floor.

“You know, that’s why that shit he said bothered me so badly that day… for him to call me a Death Eater, knowing that my parents were literally killed by Voldemort, and then start saying all of those horrible accusations about Snape and me, after everything that happened to me as a kid, it hurt me so badly. I know he has no idea about any of that, so it’s not really his fault, but still, to hear him just throw around accusations like that, like it was supposed to be funny or something, it just disgusted me.” Harry admitted and Hermione put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes in shame.

“I cannot fucking believe him.” Hermione said in a dangerously quiet voice. She hardly ever swore, and Harry was a bit taken aback by her reaction, yet simultaneously a little endeared that she would get so upset on his behalf.

“I am going to have a serious conversation with him, Harry. I would never disclose to him what happened with your relatives without your permission, but I’m going to tell him just what I think of his own atrocious behavior, believe you me!” She seethed and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It was the easiest and most honest laugh he’d had in days.

“You’re an angel, Hermione. Thank you for listening to me, and sticking by me despite how irreparably fucked up I am.” Harry said, giving her hand a final squeeze before pulling away and gathering his belongings to finally head to dinner.

“Harry James Potter, you are only moderately fucked up. And despite even that, you are my best friend in the whole world. I am not going anywhere and I will always listen to you.” She said sternly as they walked out of the library arm in arm.

Chapter 14: Ouroboros

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING:
Rape and cannibalism

This is probably the heaviest chapter in the series, please read at your own discretion <3

(Dudley)

It was cold in Dudley’s cell, and every day it grew colder yet. He had long since given up on his attempted telepathic communications. He knew by now that nobody was coming, especially not Harry. Truthfully, as much as Dudley desperately wanted out of this hellish nightmare, he didn’t blame his cousin for not coming to his rescue one bit. He wouldn’t be surprised if Harry had heard every single one of his desperate pleas for help and chose to ignore them all. Whether that be because of resentment he held for Dudley or just sheer self preservation, trying to avoid these psychopaths for as long as he could. Dudley knew about their plans for Harry, he had heard the Death Eaters boast about it for long enough now. If he was smart, Harry would stay away.

He found himself under the Imperius curse almost constantly nowadays. It was too difficult at this point to differentiate the wants and needs born from his own volition, from the demands forced upon him from the Death Eaters. In a bid to keep himself safe, Dudley had simply learned to act on every one of the impulses that ran across his mind, afraid that otherwise he may accidentally ignore a command from his captors if he put too much thought into any of his actions.

One small blessing was that the Death Eaters no longer forced themselves on him, and all of the muggle slayings they had been making him do had stopped completely. He privately mourned for each life he had taken. All forty-nine men, women and children. He would remember them all. Dudley did wonder to himself, however, what had changed. He went from servicing them and murdering for them in cold blood all hours of the day and night, to silence and regularly scheduled meals. Soon enough, though, that semblance of peace was shattered.

Two burley men, donned in the Death Eater robes and masks, had entered Dudley’s cell, levitating between them a tray of food and a large pitcher of water. Dudley avoided looking at the men directly.

“You better eat and drink it all, Duddykins, the Dark Lord will be making use of you soon and he needs you at full strength.” One of the men, who’s voice Dudley recognized as Avery, warned him.

“If you don’t, we will shove it down your pretty throat.” The other man, who Dudley thought was named Mulciber, barked.

“Yes, sirs.” Dudley croaked while taking the offered tray and pitcher from the men. When he saw the contents of the tray, however, Dudley almost vomited all over it.

There was a plate heaping with small chunks of some kind of raw bloody meat, as well as a bowl of greenish-grey liquid that looked somewhat curdled. He didn’t vomit, but he did gag rather loudly, earning him a sharp smack from Avery.

“You will consume every drop of this tray’s contents, as if you were starving and this was your last meal. I will say this once, Dudley. This food is sacred, the ingredients are irreplaceable, and essential to the Dark Lord’s plans. You will consume it, if I have to cut open your guts and shove it all in there by hand.” The Death Eater spat, earning a dark chuckle from Mulciber.

Dudley lifted a piece of the meat to his lips, horrified at how warm and fresh it felt between his shaking fingers, as if whatever animal it had come from had only just been slaughtered moments ago. Dudley put the meat in his mouth and quickly swallowed it without even chewing, washing it down with the liquid in the bowl. The meat tasted like coppery blood, which was definitely unpleasant, but the liquid was revolting. It had a very pungent, almost grassy taste, and it was thick and slimy like mucus.

“W-what the hell is it?” Dudley choked out, gagging and sputtering as he forced himself to keep eating. Avery and Mulicber both laughed, clearly very entertained by his suffering.

“I don’t think knowing will make it any easier for you, Duddykins.” Avery chuckled, and Mulciber clapped the other man on the shoulder.

“Ah, ah, I think we should tell him. He is soon to be the Dark Lord's consort, you know. His Master would want him to know just what has been procured for him.” Mulciber exclaimed in an icy tone.

“You have a point, I suppose. These are pieces of the hearts of the muggles you killed,” Avery explained, pointing to the meat, and then he gestured to the bowl of liquid, “this is a half liter of snake milk.”

Dudley vomited all over himself, the floor and the tray, which was pointless because Mulciber levitated the regurgitated chunk of heart back to him in an instant.

“YOU WILL EAT IT ALL! EVERY SINGLE BITE! You need to consume a piece of each one of your victims, it is essential to the ritual, and that is final! Are you going to do this the easy way or would you like us to rough you up first?” Mulciber asked, brandishing his wand and shoving it into Dudley’s neck harshly.

“I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it! Fuck! Can’t you just give me a second?!” Dudley cried, shaking with disgust and rage. This was the first time he’d ever talked back to the Death Eaters, but thankfully they didn’t seem too bothered by it.

They stood there with their wands on him the whole time as they watched him struggle to eat it all, and eventually he did, though he felt sicker than he’d ever felt in his life after doing so. They left him, then, without another word and Dudley sank down to the floor, his stomach churning violently and skin rippling like waves rolling under his flesh, as he started to sweat and shake all over.

*******

(Harry)

Two weeks came and went, and when Ron Weasley returned to the castle he didn’t try to approach or speak to Harry once. The twins and Ginny also avoided him, not bothering so much as a glance in his direction. Harry had sent Ginny his letter of apology only three days after the incident and she never replied. Harry tried not to worry or think too much about it, already having so much on his plate that he couldn’t afford to expend much energy on the Weasleys. Still, he felt terrible about the entire situation and their cold silence was almost worse than if they all just worked together to beat him unconscious and move on.

It was now the day before Halloween, as well as the next Hogsmeade weekend, and while Harry’s last venture into the village had been a complete disaster, he was eager to have a better go of it this time around. He needed to stock up on quills, parchment and potions ingredients anyway, so a day in Hogsmeade would be just the ticket.

This was the third year he’d been going to the village, but the first time ever that he was going alone and spending the whole day unaccompanied, which he didn’t really mind at all. Draco had offered to come with him, but Harry had planned on surprising him and Hermione with some treats from Honeydukes, so he politely declined and assured Draco he would see him at dinner.

Harry made the familiar trek into the village in relatively high spirits. The walk into Hogsmeade was very scenic, with lots of magical plants, crumbling ruins and lush Scottish landscape to be admired all along the way. Harry thoroughly enjoyed the long walk, and the way that the cool autumn air and the exercise cleared the fog out of his mind. It was the most peaceful he’d felt since term began. There was always a calm before a storm, however, and little did Harry know just how short lived this peace would be.

It happened just after coming out of Honeydukes, pockets overflowing with sugar quills and chocolate frogs, and it started with the sounds of screaming.

At first, Harry couldn’t tell where exactly all of the panic was coming from, or what was causing it, but as people scrambled around trying to flee, he was knocked to the ground, his wand and glasses sent flying. He quickly scurried to retrieve them, and when he next looked up from the ground, to his horror he saw the Dark Mark spreading across the sunny sky, hovering over Hogsmeade as a thunderous black cloud.

Death Eaters were suddenly all around him, stalking up from every direction, sending curses hurtling through the air at everyone who got in their way. They were making a beeline toward Harry, whose brain was still struggling to keep up with all that was happening. He put a shield charm around himself just in time, as a beam of red light came shooting straight for him.

“DON’T INJURE THE POTTER BOY! STUN AND CAPTURE ONLY!” One of the Death Eaters nearest to Harry shouted, and he only just managed to dive out of the way as no less than a half dozen stunning spells were fired at him.

He was giving as good as he got, sending stupifys and impedimentas at every cloaked and hooded figure he could see, but there were so many of them. At least double the amount as in the graveyard last year.

Suddenly a woman who had been shoving hurriedly past Harry, trying desperately to get away, was shot down with the Killing Curse right before his eyes. He watched as her body crumpled to the ground, her face still fixed in the expression of panic she wore as she fell. He looked into her cool blue eyes, and it wasn’t even her that he was seeing anymore, but Cedric. And just like before, it was his fault for not having done something sooner, for not having reacted more quickly.

His breath caught in his chest, but before Harry could make another move, he was hit right between the eyes with a stupify and the whole world went black…

*******

When Harry finally opened his eyes, he had no idea how long he had been out for, but it was difficult to convince himself he wasn’t still asleep, trapped in a nightmare. He found himself in a forest clearing, surrounded by a semicircle of a dozen or so Death Eaters, standing uniformly side by side unmoving and silently watching. He was naked, and his arms and legs were stretched to painful limits, magically bound to two large wooden poles. Feeling panic rising up like a ball of fire in his chest, he thrashed about trying to free himself, to no avail. The binds constricted harder and tighter the more he moved, and they were already so tight that Harry’s fingers were numb.

Harry looked wildly all around, and nearly vomited when he saw Dudley Dursley suspended in mid-air, levitating a couple of meters above the clearing. He was also naked, with his arms and legs stretched in the same manner as Harry’s, only he didn’t appear to be physically bound to anything. Dudley appeared to be in a hypnotic trance. His eyes glowed a stark white with no pupils, his skin was glowing a faint blue, and most horrifically, Voldemort’s familiar, the python Nagini, was draped across Dudley’s shoulders hissing in his ear.

Before he had a moment to process what he was seeing, a loud CRACK thundered across the clearing as Lord Voldemort apparated into existence and all of the Death Eaters bowed and knelt before him.

“Most loyal subjects…” Voldemort purred, “I’ve gathered you all here on the night of All Hallows Eve to witness the greatest magical feat of your lifetime. Consider it the highest reward, that you few have been chosen.”

“YES MY LORD!” They shouted in perfect unison.

“Many great wizards before me have attempted the transfer of magic from one to another. They’ve said that it simply couldn’t be done… oh but I know it can.” Voldemort growled as he took a sweeping look at his followers. “I’ve spent months preparing a ritual that I do believe will achieve the impossible tonight.”

The Death Eaters all cheered and gave Voldemort a booming round of applause. He raised his hand for silence, and it came instantly.

“This one,” Voldemort pointed up at Dudley, “shares Harry Potter’s blood. I’ve been working on the boy for weeks, and I’ve become intimately familiar with his mind and his magical signature. I can transfer Harry Potter’s magic into the boy, who is but honey in my hands.”

The Death Eaters cheered once more and the Dark Lord answered them with a rather feral smile as he sauntered across the clearing to Harry giving him a look of sadistic amusement. He stepped behind Harry and placed a slender, bony, hand on his throat.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” The Dark Lord whispered thickly in Harry’s ear as he stepped ever closer and pressed his body into his. Harry tried to jerk away, but the binding cut further into his wrists and ankles, holding him firmly in place. Voldemort’s fingers harshly tightened on Harry’s throat and he could feel his lungs quickly grow desperate to draw another breath. Black spots started whirling in his vision.

Voldemort chanted a long line of Latin, seemingly endlessly, and Harry felt a stinging aura of magic engulf him completely. He looked down at his body in horror to see that he was now also glowing with that same pale bluish light that Dudley was. His eyes darted up to his cousin, then, and he stared in abject horror. The tail end of the snake was lazily wrapped around Dudley’s upper thigh, but the majority of its body had disappeared up between his legs and inside of him, crawling completely through Dudley’s digestive tract, until the head of the snake slithered disgustingly out of Dudley’s mouth.

Voldemort’s crazed laughter right in his ear pulled Harry’s attention away from the floating boy and back to his own body that the Dark Lord began hungrily fondling.

Something in Harry’s mind desperately tried to snap and shut off. He could almost separate from himself, as if he were just watching along with the Death Eaters, rather than experiencing anything at all. But then with no words or warning, Voldemort thrust himself violently inside of Harry and the pain, shock, and panic catapulted Harry’s soul back into his body where he couldn’t ignore the burning pain of his insides being pounded and mangled.

He screamed and the thrusting grew quicker and harder still. His glowing skin glowed brighter, almost blindingly so, while Dudley’s also brightened, illuminating the clearing with eerie blue light. He could feel his magic being leached from him, as it felt like the vicious pumping in and out of him went on forever.

The magic surrounding him shifted from a stinging aura, to a painful burning that covered every inch of his skin; as well as tightening its grip with oppressive, crushing, pressure.

“Please, God!” Harry screamed desperately as the pain grew unbearable. The more he struggled and the more he screamed, the more forceful the Dark Lord became. His heart pounded in his chest so forcefully Harry was sure it would explode. He teetered right on the edge of consciousness, begging for mercy and ready to succumb, when Voldemort pulled himself out of Harry so viciously he felt like his entrails must have come out with him. The magical binding released him, dropping Harry into a heap on the forest floor. Slowly, the glow faded from Harry’s skin, while Dudley’s flashed once, blindingly bright, and then also faded to nothing. He slowly sank back down to the ground where the Death Eaters flanked him and hurried to carry him away.

Harry instantly curled into a ball and wrapped his arms around himself, shaking uncontrollably. His teeth clanged together and he bit his tongue, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He tried to force his Occlumency shields up, desperate to protect his mind from everything that just happened, trying to stave off the mental torture he was sure to endure next. Where’s your wand! Find your wand! His brain screamed over and over again. But Harry couldn’t move. Would his wand even work now? Did he even have magic anymore? Harry’s stomach lurched violently and he vomited.

Out of nowhere, disrupting the darkness, multi-colored lights flashed, bathing the clearing in blinding sparks and explosions coming from every which way. He was only vaguely aware that it was ferocious dueling that had broken out around him. Death Eaters began shouting and running. One of the men leapt over Harry, kicking him forcefully in the back of the head in the process of scrambling to safety.

Suddenly, Harry felt himself being pulled away by strong hands hooked under his arms, dragging him out of the line of fire. The unexpected movement jerked Harry out of the trance he had slipped into and he began kicking, thrashing, and screaming. “NO! NO PLEASE!! NO MORE, GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”

“SHH, SHH!! Harry, it’s just me. You’re safe! I got you, I’m gonna get you out of here!” Came a gruff voice, Harry instantly recognized. He passed out as Bill Weasley apparated them away.

*******

The jolt of the apparation woke Harry instantly and with that, true shock began to set in. He vomited again while figures hovered over him, all moving him, touching him, and asking him questions.

“Harry, keep your eyes open.”

“What happened out there Harry?”

“Harry, where is the blood coming from?”

The questions only ceased when they were interrupted by panicked screaming. Harry balled his fists and drew his knees into his chest, absolutely paralyzed with fear, before he realized the screams were coming from himself.

“Everybody just back the fuck up!! Give him some room!! Merlin, what’s wrong with you people?!” Bill Weasley shouted, brandishing his wand and shooing away the onslaught of Order members crowding him.

Bill refused to meet Harry’s eyes as he slowly handed him a blanket, offering it as if approaching a wounded animal. “Here Harry. Everything is going to be okay, I’m going to go get Snape and Dumbledore, they will help you. Don’t be scared, you’re all right now.” He said in as warm and comforting a voice as he could muster.

Harry said nothing, but wrapped his body with the blanket, head and all. He felt so exposed, and so violated. The thought of everyone in the Order having just seen his naked body, after everything that just happened made his skin crawl. His stomach threatened to sick up again, but couldn’t. Did they know? Did any of them actually see what Voldemort had done to him? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“Harry?” Came the weary voice of Professor Dumbledore, the absolute last person on Earth that Harry wanted to see in that moment, just before Voldemort himself. Harry didn’t answer and didn’t come out from under the blanket. At that moment he missed his fathers Invisibility Cloak, that had long since been destroyed at the start of the summer. He wished more than anything that he could just disappear.

“Harry I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell on you, we just want to make sure you aren’t injured.” Dumbledore said, patting the blanket. Harry instantly recoiled.

“DON’T ANYBODY TOUCH ME!” Harry screamed in a broken voice, his throat burned from all of the screaming and vomiting. He pulled the blanket more securely around himself.

“My apologies, Harry,” Dumbledore replied, removing his hand at once. “I know you’re very upset right now, but I need you to tell us what happened. We can’t help you unless we understand.”

Harry said nothing. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and the words wouldn’t come. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long time before Dumbledore spoke again.

“Harry, my boy, if you don’t want to tell us, perhaps you may be willing to drop your Occlumency barriers and I can see for myself what happened? I really must insist on one or the other, Harry, this is very important and many lives are at stake.”

Harry blanched at that. There was absolutely no way he would drop his shield. He remembered the horror stories Severus told him about Vol- about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s- twisted love of mental torture. Harry was sure he was watching and waiting for Harry to slip up so he could continue where he left off.

“No! Please, I will tell you. I can’t drop my shield. D-d-Don’t legilimize me.” Harry stammered out. “Can I please have some clothes?”

“They’re right here next to you. We will step out for a moment while you get dressed.”

Harry waited until they left the room to remove the blanket. He looked down at himself and he was disgusted. He was covered in blood and dirt. He could feel cum dripping out of him, down the back of his legs. He absent mindedly looked around for his wand to do a quick cleansing spell when he remembered the whole purpose of the Ritual. Did it work, though? He wondered to himself. He didn’t want to know. He pulled the clothes overtop of all of the filth and waited for Dumbledore and Severus to come back in.

They stood in front of him, unspeaking, but staring expectantly.

“You-Know-Who did a- a ritual. To transfer all of my m-magic to D-Dudley. He is alive, by the way, I saw him. V-Vol-You-Know-Who is gonna use him as some sort of weapon, he’s under Imperio or something. He took out all my magic and put it into Dudley.” Harry said frantically. He didn’t want to give them the details of everything that happened if he didn’t have to. Why would they need to know everything, anyway? All they needed to know is that his magic is gone, and he’s worthless now.

“Impossible, Harry. He may have tried, but it’s without a doubt that he was unsuccessful.” Dumbledore said with a look of dark bemusement, that didn’t touch his ice blue eyes.

“What did this ritual consist of, Harry?” Severus asked gently. His gaze hadn’t shifted off of Harry since he’d come back in the room. Harry felt like he would vomit again when Severus leviosa’d to him a Calming Draught. He chugged the contents of the bottle hungrily in one gulp, the effects of the potion starting to take effect almost instantly.

“I- he… um… well, Dudley was, um, floating, okay? And um… You-Know-Who’s snake, um… literally crawled up his… um, yeah, crawled up through his arse and out his mouth…” Harry started hyperventilating, anxiety coursing through his veins despite the Calming Draught. He felt so embarrassed he would rather die than continue, but he didn’t think he would ever again have enough courage to spit it out, so he started rambling off the rest. “At the same time that was happening, You-Know-Who came up behind me, and um… well.. he did… stuff to me… um I don’t know.. I’m sorry… well Dudley was glowing blue, and, and then I started glowing blue too, and this magic cloud kind of hovered around me, right? And it felt like it was choking me, but well… he was also strangling me so I don’t really know. And well, anyways, then my skin started burning and then Dudley started glowing brighter and then there was like, this big flash of light, and then everyone stopped glowing and then You-Know-Who threw me to the side and the Death Eaters kinda surrounded Dudley and floated away with him, and then I guess the Order showed up and Bill apparated me away, but well, everything was kind of fucked up and I don’t really know fully what’s going on I guess.”

Neither man said anything as Harry rambled and stammered through his account of what happened. Severus weakly reached toward him, as if he’d wanted to grip his arm in comfort, but thought better of it and retreated.

“I could feel my magic leave me though.” Harry whispered, as tears spilled down his face. Severus handed Harry his wand.

“Can you try to cast something?” He asked. Harry took the wand, and he felt the familiar surge of tingling warmth in his fingertips. Maybe there was some hope after all?

“Lumos.” Harry cast, and the wand tip remained dark and lifeless. Harry’s heart sank in his chest. As far as spells went, lumos was about as basic as it could get. A sharp inhale through the teeth from Severus, and Dumbledore fidgeting with his long beard certainly didn’t help with the anxiousness Harry was feeling.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Nothing.

“Aguamenti!” Nothing.

“Reducto!” Nothing.

Harry cast spell, after spell, after spell. To no avail. He spat off every spell that came to mind, and absolutely nothing happened until-

“Serpensortia!” Severus’ wand finally came to life in Harry’s hand as a massive black viper sprang out before him. The snake was angry. It hissed once, threateningly, and lunged forward to strike. Harry was slightly stunned, not having really expected the spell to work. He raised both hands defensively and shouted at the snake “Stop! Don’t attack!” It sounded like perfect English to his own ears, but Severus and Dumbledore both slightly recoiled from his Parsletongue. At once, the snake heeded Harry’s command and backed down. It coiled in on itself in fear.

“Yesssss massssster” the viper hissed. Harry shook his head and knelt down to speak to the snake.

“Itssss okay. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” Harry responded gently, reaching out a hand for the snake to smell. Before he could make contact with it, however, the viper slithered back and began viciously biting itself and swallowing its own tail-end, clearly horrifically distressed.

Severus stepped forward and calmly cast “Vipera Evanesca” and the snake was banished in an instant.

“What the hell was that? Why was it trying to eat itself like that?” Harry asked, looking back and forth between Severus and Dumbledore. They each exchanged a look for a moment.

“Harry, neither of us can speak Parsletongue as you know, if any of the three of us would understand what it was doing, it would likely be you, my boy.” Dumbledore said gently. His tone was laced with something icy, as if he were stating the obvious and it pained him to do so. Harry’s cheeks flushed a little.

“I dunno. All I did was tell it don’t attack and don’t be afraid and it just went barmy.” Harry replied, bewildered. Dumbledore shrugged and Severus just continued staring, before ultimately breaking the silence.

“Try casting a hex.” He suggested, summoning a training dummy. Harry took a shaky breath and cast at the dummy a light stinging hex, and the dummy combusted into purple flames. Dumbledore put out the fire with a wandless aguamenti and nodded at Harry, encouraging him to try another. He sent the knee-reversing hex at the dummy, and its legs exploded with a deafening BANG! He thought about casting the bat-bogey hex, but what if instead of bats, dragons flew out or something? Harry handed Severus back his wand, unwilling to continue trying.

Harry felt completely numb, strangely enough. This, by far, had been the worst thing to ever happen to him. Being raped by Voldemort and having his magic stolen from him with nothing but the darkest and deadliest bit of evil magic left behind. Life as he had known it, was over, in the blink of any eye, and yet he felt nothing. None of the sadness, anger, and fear he had been feeling incessantly for months now was anywhere to be found. He just felt empty, and numb, kind of like he had felt for that brief moment in the clearing when he was watching everything happen from outside himself.

“What does this mean, Albus?” Severus finally asked, looking to the ancient wizard for some kind of answers and guidance. Dumbledore raised his wand and with no explanation cast some kind of spell wordlessly at Harry that he didn’t immediately recognize. Severus had flinched visibly at Dumbledore’s sudden movement, but Harry didn’t so much as blink his eyes. He wouldn’t have cared in that moment what it was, even if it had been a crucio.

A very faint, barely perceptible, red light glowed from Harry’s scar on his forehead for only a brief moment before fading to nothing. Severus’ eyes widened and Dumbledore just shook his head and looked at the ground. Harry had no idea what was going on and gave both men a questioning look.

“That was a scan of your magical signature, Harry. The light should have been a much brighter, golden color, and it should have enveloped your whole body. It seems that Voldemort was at least marginally successful with his ritual, but for right now, I can only speculate on the dark magic coming from your curse scar.” Dumbledore said gravely. Harry nodded. What else could he do? What could he say?

“Am I done now? I just want to go to bed.” Harry finally said, his voice rough and broken, just like every other part of him. He only just registered that he was sitting in the parlour at Grimmauld Place, and he didn’t want to be there. If he saw Sirius’ face tonight, or Remus’, full of resentment and disdain, Harry knew he would hex them, and now his hexes were deadly and unpredictable.

“Of course. You need rest. Do not fret, Harry. We will figure something out. I’m the meantime I think it’s for the best that you not carry a wand. You should still attend your classes, of course, you have your O.W.L. exams at the end of the year, and we’re sure to have this mess sorted by then. Goodnight, Harry. I am so glad that you are safe.” Dumbledore said, patting Harry on the shoulder and recoiling when he flinched away from the man’s touch.

Harry waited until Dumbledore was out of the room before he turned his gaze onto Severus, who was already silencing, locking and warding the room for total privacy. The man crossed the room and sat beside Harry.

“What did he do to you?” Severus asked, his voice as gentle as Harry had ever heard it. Harry couldn’t say the words, instead he looked deeply into Severus’ eyes and forced the whole terrible scene in its entirety into Severus’ mind. The man said nothing, and his expression was totally blank, but his hands were trembling, and Harry felt that all too familiar crackling of magic surrounding him that was his tell-tale sign of anguish and turmoil. Harry tentatively leaned into Severus’ side and the man did not hesitate to pull Harry closely against him. Anyone else, Harry wouldn’t dare to let so close, not right now. But Severus was different. He had seen Harry at his worst, time and time again, and still loved him and chose to stay. He needed Severus in order to get through this, in more ways than one. Now that Harry couldn’t use magic anymore, he was totally defenseless. Anyone could come along to finish him off, without a hitch.

“I’m scared.” Harry whispered, tears trickling down his face as the weight of the situation finally came crashing down on him.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I failed to protect you… and what has been done to you is… disgusting and absolutely fucking horrendous.” Severus choked out, and it seemed for a moment that he was going to break down into tears as well, but after a while he was able to compose himself and continued, his voice thick with emotion, “I will fight to my dying breath to protect you. Nobody will ever lay a finger on you, ever again. And I will fix your magic. If that fucking monster could take it away, I will find a way to return it if it’s the last bloody thing I do. I swear this to you, Harry. On my life and on my magic, I swear this.” As he finished speaking, a golden stream of light came flowing out of his chest and swirled around them both, sealing Severus’ promise with an Unbreakable Vow.

Chapter 15: Fire

(Severus)

That night when he’d arrived back to his quarters with Harry, Severus gave him a Dreamless Sleep, despite the potions restrictions he had the boy on. If there was ever a night that Harry needed a bit of respite from his mind, it was tonight. Substance abuse and dependency was the least of his worries for now. How on earth was he going to keep Harry safe after all of this? Severus felt very out of his element. He had over a decade of teaching experience, yes, but that was nothing in comparison to being a father. He had never done this before, and he was failing.

Severus sat on the edge of Harry’s bed long after the boy fell into a deep sleep, watching over him. His son looked so young, just now. With his seemingly permanent frown and worry lines between his brows relaxed, and his mouth slightly ajar, he looked much the child he still really was. Severus smoothed Harry’s hair over his forehead once before retreating back to the parlour. He cast a tempus charm and saw that it was just after four in the morning. Albus expected him back at Headquarters for an emergency meeting at six.

There was hardly any point in trying to sleep. It would evade him anyway. The memory of Harry’s assault played on a continuous loop behind Severus’ eyes. He felt sick. He was outraged. He was completely overwhelmed. He was afraid. What he needed was a drink.

Actually, what he needed to do was to infiltrate Malfoy Manor under a disillusionment charm, unleash a wave of magical fury upon the place, and level it to the ground with all of the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord still inside. But Severus doubted he would be strong enough to pull it off. He was physically and magically exhausted after all that it took to locate Harry... He would most likely be killed, and then Harry would be left to the mercy of these simple minded fucks, and that just wouldn’t do. So he settled for the drink.

Severus cracked open a bottle of Firewhiskey that Dumbledore had gifted him last Christmas and took a long swig straight from the bottle. He collapsed onto the sofa and put his head in his hands, running his long fingers through his disheveled and greasy hair. How could he have let this happen? How could he have failed so miserably?

When Harry never returned from Hogsmeade after the attack, Severus had been a wreck. He remembered that Draco had pounded his fists on Severus’ door, absolutely frantic with worry when the other students had returned. There was talk about Death Eaters storming the village, but nothing was yet to be confirmed. Harry, however, was nowhere to be found.

He had suspected at once that the boy had been kidnapped, but he assumed that they had taken him to Malfoy Manor, as that was the last location Severus knew the Dark Lord to be residing. He was wrong. By the time he could inform the Order and pull enough people together to try and rescue Harry, they had wasted several hours breaking through the heavy warding on the Manor, only to find the place deserted. A few Order members, Black and Lupin included, had chosen to stay behind to gather information and sabotage the Manor for when the Death Eaters inevitably returned.

Sick of the bullshit, Severus retreated to his quarters where he practiced blood magic in private to locate the boy once and for all. It was painful and exhausting and highly illegal in the eyes of the Ministry, but it worked. Blood magic always took a toll, but it was powerful and reliable, and at least in this circumstance, the risk was worth the reward. He was able to give the coordinates of Harry’s exact location to the Order, and within just a few hours, Bill Weasley had Harry and apparated him back to Grimmauld Place.

Albus had insisted upon questioning Harry together. Had Severus known the sensitive nature of what his son had gone through, he of course would have fought harder for Harry’s privacy. At least for a few days. Long enough to let the boy recover and begin to process what had happened to him.

Severus took another long draw from the bottle. His hands were trembling and his heart was racing. He wanted to scream, or break something. Kill something. He drained the remnants of the bottle and smashed it. Then he fixed it with a repairo and smashed it again.

Severus glanced at Harry’s door, still slightly open, and sighed. The dose of Dreamless Sleep he’d given him was strong enough to keep the boy asleep for ten hours at least, and after what he had been through, Severus knew Harry would be exhausted, depressed, probably suicidal… the extra sleep right now would be good for him. He took a bit of time to sit quietly, trying and failing to restore his occlumency shields and pull himself together. Finally, when no more time could be wasted, Severus gulped down a sobering potion, heavily locked and warded his quarters and floo’d back to Grimmauld Place.

The scene he came upon was chaotic to say the least. Although there were no casualties on either side, several Order members had been injured, and Poppy Pomfrey was tirelessly attending to them all.

“Do you require any assistance?” Severus asked the flustered looking witch and she gave him a small smile and shook her head.

“Thank you, Severus, I have everything under control for now. Albus will kill you if you keep that meeting waiting any longer.” Poppy replied, scurrying around administering potions and casting healing charms as she spoke.

“Fuck Albus.” Severus muttered darkly, earning him a hearty chuckle from the mediwitch.

Severus entered the dining room where the meetings were always held and took his usual seat at the table, keeping his gaze averted from everyone else’s prying eyes. If he wanted to keep his composure for this ridiculous meeting, he couldn’t get himself all worked up before it even started. Black caught his attention, and much to Severus’ shock and disgust, offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Snape?” Black asked, keeping his voice low enough to not be heard by the others. Severus didn’t deign him with a verbal response, but inclined his head to let the man know he was listening. “Harry okay?”

“No.” Severus said shortly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, but he was out of patience and fully pushed past his limits for the night… well, morning now… he needed more alcohol. He needed sleep. Black just nodded and looked down solemnly at the floor. Lupin patted the man’s shoulder, and Severus had to force himself not to snort at the sight, or roll his eyes.

He told himself it was a good thing that they were distraught over his son. Harry deserved as many people in his corner, loving him and wanting him safe, as was possible. And yet Severus couldn’t help the resentment he felt for the two of them, not only for his own personal history, but for how callously they had treated Harry for months. How dare they pretend to care now? How dare they sit there and comfort one another? When they hadn’t even bothered to go into the thick of it when it came time to go and get the boy? Severus’ thoughts were interrupted by Albus beginning the meeting at last.

“If I may have your attention, please. I have called this meeting to debrief you all on the events that happened during the attack on Hogsmeade, and the subsequent kidnapping of Harry Potter.” Albus said, his voice grave and low. In an instant, the room became disturbingly silent, as if nobody dared to even breathe in fear of disrupting the man as he spoke.

“Just after 3pm on October 30th, an attack was reported in Hogsmeade village. There were eight casualties, including two children, third and sixth year students at Hogwarts. It was at this point that it was discovered that Harry was missing. Severus and I organized a rescue mission for the boy, working under the assumption that he was being held captive at Malfoy Manor. At approximately 2:29am on the morning of October 31st, we were able to dismantle the wards and enter the Manor, where we discovered there was, in fact, nobody on the property. Remus, Sirius, and Mundungus stayed on site for reconnaissance.

“While Severus attempted to locate Harry, I did much of the same, as well as contacted more people to help with the rescue. At 6:40pm October 31st, Severus had a breakthrough with his search and was able to provide me coordinates. A team consisting of myself, Severus, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Bill and Arthur apparated just outside of a forest clearing in Wales. It took us about two hours to dismantle the warding, it appears that Voldemort himself had constructed it. Finally we were able to disrupt the ritual that Voldemort was currently at the end of performing. This ritual consisted of mostly unknown, exceptionally dark magic that I have personally never heard of, and it took Harry’s magic away.”

At these words, there was an upheaval. Everyone was shouting all at once. Molly Weasley and Black were openly weeping. Moody and Shacklebolt were in full Auror mode, rapidly firing off question after question. It even sounded like there were a pair of cats fighting outside. Albus clapped his hands impatiently and everyone found themselves placed under a wandless silencing charm.

“My apologies ladies and gentlemen, I know this information came as quite the shock, but unfortunately we do have a bit more to get through.” Albus said politely, and when it looked like everyone had calmed themselves enough, he lifted the charm. Severus gripped his wand tightly beneath the table, taking all of his willpower not to hex the man right then and there. His gross misuse of power, just silencing anyone or anything he didn’t deign worthy enough to make sound whenever he saw fit had always triggered something violent in Severus.

“I have personally done a scan on the boy's magical signature, and it is gone completely. Save for his curse scar, which upon scanning seems to have a signature of its own imbued with very dark magic. Harry is unable to produce so much as a lumos, yet any hex or otherwise bit of dark arts he performs is entirely unpredictable and significantly overpowered. I believe this to be a direct consequence of the connection the boy has with Voldemort, which I have been exploring tirelessly.”

“What does this mean, Albus? What do you plan on doing with the boy?” Moody asked gruffly, leaning over the table to direct his question to Albus, but his magical eye was fixed on Severus.

“Nobody will be doing anything to my son.” Severus growled in an icy tone. Everyone turned to look at him, then. Some of their expressions were sympathetic, others seemed afraid. A few were down right angry. Severus tightened his grip on his wand.

“He very well may need to be contained.” Albus responded casually as if Severus had never even spoken.

“He is not leaving my sight! The only reason why I am not with him right now is because you insisted I come to this meeting. But let me make myself perfectly clear, all of you, if you touch one solitary hair on his head, I will forcibly extract your filthy hands from your body.” Severus hissed. His voice was quiet, but deadly serious, dripping venom with every syllable. His eyes were wild, and he could feel the magic at his fingertips, humming through his wand, just waiting to be unleashed onto anyone who tried him.

“Severus, I know this is not an ideal circumstance, but Harry needs to be monitored. Maybe he could stay here at Grimmauld?” Shacklebolt offered, his voice calm, deep and soothing, but the suggestion did nothing to ease Severus’ growing panic.

“I don’t want him staying here.” Black choked out, and Severus’ head snapped in the man’s direction so fiercely he could have gotten whiplash. Black met his gaze, and raised his hands placatingly in a show of surrender.

“You know that Harry and I haven’t gotten on in quite some time, Snape. Being stuck here with me will do nothing but set him off, it wouldn’t be safe for either of us.” Black quickly explained, and Severus couldn’t help but agree, not that he would have entertained the idea regardless.

“He could stay with us,” Molly started, but Arthur grimaced and placed his hand on her arm, shaking his head.

“I don’t think that would be for the best, Mollywabbles.” He disagreed quietly. Severus couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle.

“No, it most certainly wouldn’t. We couldn’t trust your beastly brood not to finish off my son once and for all.” Severus barked, and Molly gave him a look of such hurt and despair that Severus nearly apologized, but he didn’t.

“I say we take him to St. Mungos, or better yet, straight to the Ministry. They have protective cells for precisely this kind of situation.” Moody suggested, and Severus nearly leaped across the table to strangle the man.

“Are you really suggesting that we take an innocent child as a prisoner?” Severus asked incredulously, and Moody simply nodded his head enthusiastically, as if it was the smartest idea anyone had ever come up with. Severus bared his teeth at the man, feeling his rage boiling over to a dangerous point. He stood to his feet and brandished his wand in front of him.

“He will be staying with me and that is final. He is my son. None of you, frankly, have any authority whatsoever over my child. Albus included. Now, to be quite transparent with all of you, I don’t understand all of this talk about containing Harry and keeping him prisoner. Just last night, Albus, you told him he would be expected to continue attending classes, albeit without carrying a wand. He already spends the majority of his free time in my quarters as it is, and after all of this I doubt that will change. He isn’t dangerous. He isn’t some dark wizard! You all know him! It’s just Harry! The way you’re all acting is reprehensible. He will be fine, I will make sure of it. He is my responsibility, I will not let any harm come to him or anyone else. If it gets to a point where he is putting other people at risk, I will simply take him and go into hiding, but if you think I will just allow you to separate us without a fight, you can be sure to expect a rather rude awakening.” Severus said, his voice commanding and thunderous. Albus stared at him with fire in his eyes, but nobody said a word for a long time.

“Handle him for now then, Severus, but know that the blood will be on your hands.” Albus finally conceded, despite the many protests from the others. Severus took that as his opportunity to leave, and he didn’t hesitate in doing so. Molly, Lupin and Minerva all started toward him, clearly intending to say something but Severus apparated out of the building and back to the Hogwarts apparition point without speaking to any of them.

When he got back to his quarters, he checked the wards for his own peace of mind, and they were all holding up as strong as ever, but with all of the direct threats from Albus and Moody, Severus didn’t feel any safety or security. He knew that if they wanted to, they could breach his wards and snatch Harry right out from under his nose, should he fall asleep or drop his guard in any way.

Severus slashed his palm with his wand tip and smeared his door with the blood, chanting several long lines of Latin. There was a searing pain in his hand as magic was forcefully siphoned from his core, and redirected into the protective spells guarding his quarters. When the deed was done, Severus felt drained and his palm was blistered and blackening, but nobody could get in now, apart from Harry and himself.

He liberally applied a burn salve to his palm, but it was mostly useless due to the nature of the burns. With blood magic, it was always a matter of “you get what you give”. The reciprocity was integral to that particular branch of magic, so any unnatural healing of the wounds could only go so far. He bandaged his hand and poured himself a drink, in a proper glass this time.

“Fuck…” Severus muttered to himself, sipping his drink and lighting a cigarette with his wand tip. His hands were shaking, his palm was aching horribly, he was more tired than he’d ever been in his life, but he had things he needed to do before he could take that sweet sip of Dreamless Sleep and get a few hours of rest.

He cast his patronus, and the doe pranced a few laps around the room before settling at Severus’ side.

“Send a message to Minerva, Filius and Pomona, but not in the company of the Headmaster. If they’re in Albus’ presence, abort mission immediately.” Severus said, and the doe bowed in understanding, awaiting his message patiently:

“Loathe as I am to admit, I greatly require all of your assistance. Find me tonight on patrol.”

*******

(Harry)

When Harry woke, he felt like he could have easily slept for ten more hours. The exhaustion was in his bones. In his soul. He wouldn’t have bothered getting out of bed, but about three hours after the potion wore off, Severus was at his door telling him breakfast was ready.

Harry didn’t really think he could stomach anything, but he went to the table regardless. He could see the worry written all over the man’s face. He noticed his injured bandaged hands. He could almost hear the buzz of new layers of magic warding his quarters. Severus must be terrified, and probably close to losing it, so Harry decided he would just do what the man asked of him. It was easier that way, it wasn’t worth it to fight.

He vaguely recognized Severus was speaking to him, but he couldn’t register any of the words he was saying. It felt like he had cotton in his ears. Harry nodded along when he felt like he should. He gave hints of a smile here and there. After a while he would ask to be excused, and Severus would let him go back to his room.

It continued like this for a week, going through the motions like a ghost, while his mind was wandering somewhere far away.

“I think it’s time you return to your classes.” Severus said quietly, one afternoon.

“Mm’kay.” Harry murmured noncommittally. It’s not like it mattered anymore whether he attended classes or not. He would never touch a wand again, even if his magic wasn’t gone entirely, it was tainted now. After what he saw he’d done to just the training dummies… he would never take the risk, so what was the point in learning? Severus had assured him he would help to get his good magic back, he’d even gone so far as to make an Unbreakable Vow over it, but Harry had his doubts.

He found himself being much less devastated about it all than he imagined he would be. He felt nothing. Maybe he had finally lost it. Maybe his mind finally fractured under the absolute fuckedness of everything. He didn’t care about magic anymore. He didn’t care about anything. He was only still breathing because Severus practically begged him to.

“You can start tomorrow, today you should focus on getting your supplies situated, take a shower, get back in the headspace of being around people. The professors all know about the situation with your magic and have the couth not to say anything about it, but the same can’t be said for the other students when they inevitably notice. I suggest you pay them no mind. You do not owe them an explanation for anything. You don’t even need to speak to them if you don’t want to, Harry. Have you been able to occlude, since the ritual?” Severus said, and Harry felt like he was miles away. He nodded to Severus, not in response to any particular thing the man had said, just in general.

“Yes I have been occluding.” Harry answered after a while. He had been occluding continuously, so much so that the real world around him felt fuzzy. He had fortified his shields quite extensively. In his Fortress, that was once a cupboard, Harry had painstakingly dug deep into the earth. Miles and miles beneath the surface, it opened into a cavernous chamber, with a small lake in its center. The water in the lake was murky and black, more like sludge than water. There was hardly any light down here, but the pin-prick of light shining down from the cupboard at the surface acted as the smallest dimmest sun. Harry found he could sink beneath the black slime of the lake, head and all, still breathing somehow. The water drowned out all of the sights and sounds until there was nothing left but darkness all around him. It was better this way. He couldn’t think about anything, couldn’t feel anything, and so there he stayed.

Severus seemed satisfied with Harry’s response, and let him go back to his room. He didn’t get any of his supplies ready and he didn’t take a shower. He just laid in the dark until he finally fell asleep.

*******

The next morning he woke up much earlier than he intended, earlier even than Severus, and the man was one of the earliest risers Harry had ever met. He didn’t feel much like sticking around for another of Severus’ pep talks, as well intentioned as it would have been. He hadn’t had much of an appetite since the ritual, most of the time having to force himself to choke down at least one meal per day, but he found himself rather stir crazy and decided to head to the Great Hall for an early breakfast.

Upon entry, the few students and staff that were in attendance this morning predictably gawked at him as he sat down. He didn’t expect any less, it had been over a week and he hadn’t once left Severus’ quarters. Plus everyone knew he had been missing after the attack on Hogsmeade. Harry ignored them and spread some jam on toast and ate it silently. He nearly jumped out of his seat, however, when Draco sat next to him and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Oh, shite, I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He said apologetically, and Harry gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine, I was just really lost in thought for a bit there. How are you?” Harry responded, trying to sound jovial and friendly, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Draco could see right through it, Harry knew. But the other boy, thankfully, didn’t mention it.

“I’m alright. Been a nightmare dealing with Umbridge since the attack. She’s been using her status with the Ministry to give herself more authority than ever. She re-wrote Flitwick’s whole lesson the other day and supervised his class.” Draco said, and for the first time in a while, Harry felt a stir of real emotion, anger, bubbling up in his chest.

“Who does that bitch think she is?” Harry growled, and Draco shrugged, turning his attention to his breakfast.

“She thinks she is Fudge’s right hand woman and that she can get away with anything.” He said lazily, and Harry begrudgingly nodded his agreement and stabbed at his own food.

It didn’t help that his first class of the day was double DADA, where he would be under the scrutiny of that toad for two full hours. Harry planned on just reading along in his text book and keeping his mouth shut.

Draco sat down at the desk beside him and they both just took out their supplies, immediately burying their heads in the text.

“So studious.” Harry heard Ron say sarcastically from the back of the room with a snort, and Harry ignored him, refusing to take the bait. A few of the other students chuckled however, Seamus included, which bolstered Ron’s confidence, prompting him to be even mouthier.

“He probably charmed the book he’s staring at to just look like the textbook. I bet it’s really something dark as hell from the restricted section.” Seamus said and Ron laughed.

“Nah, Potter’s proud to be a Death Eater in training, just look at him. Best friends with Malfoy, getting himself resorted into Slytherin, skipping classes for weeks at a pop.” Ron barked, and this time everyone turned to watch the exchange unabashedly. Harry was determined not to give Ron any attention or response at all. He kept his eyes fixed on the book in front of him, reading and rereading the same paragraph over and over again, but not retaining any of the words. Harry flipped the page, just to keep up the charade of seeming totally unbothered.

“Ronald, why don’t you just be quiet for once in your miserable life!” Hermione shouted at him from across the room, and Harry raised his head to give her a grateful smile.

“I wouldn’t let my broad talk to me like that, Ronny.” Seamus chortled, and Harry couldn’t help but give him a look of disgust both because of his sexist remark and the weird new nickname he had for Ron.

“Shut up, Seamus.” Ron muttered darkly, looking rather put off towards the boy's comment regarding Hermione.

Right then, everyone pretty much had to shut up, because Umbridge waddled into the room with her usual simpering smile.

“Good morning, class!” Umbridge said, her voice shrill and piercing. There was a half hearted “good morning” muttered back to her by a few of the more good natured students, but mostly she was ignored.

“I want you all to turn to page 242 and read the chapter on- … Mr. Potter? Why on Earth are you here today?” Umbridge asked nastily, and all of the heads turned to him.

“I’m here for class, professor.” Harry answered simply, not looking up from the book in front of him.

“Unfortunately, you are no longer welcome in this classroom. I must ask you to pack up your belongings and leave.” She responded, her grin widening on her face. Harry didn’t argue, he just closed the book and began putting everything away into his bag, somewhat thankful actually to be excused. Draco raised his hand indignantly, and Umbridge nodded happily at him.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you asking Harry to leave?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrow at the woman. His voice had taken on that pompous “you will tell me everything I want to know because I’m a Malfoy” tone that Harry had hated once upon a time, but now he found rather amusing. Umbridge gave him another sickening smile, and then she turned her gaze onto Harry. Her eyes were fiery now and she pursed her lips in an expression of absolute rage and disgust.

“While ordinarily I would say that it was none of your business, Mr. Malfoy, I will tell you because it is a matter of concern for everyone’s safety. Mr. Potter’s magical core has been altered with dark arts and he can no longer produce magic safely or responsibly. His wand has been confiscated by the proper authorities, but I do not feel comfortable allowing him in my classroom, for fear of what he might do to all of us. He is extremely dangerous!”

Everyone was silent, and all eyes were on Harry, whose mouth was hanging open, absolutely gobsmacked. He couldn’t believe that wretched cow just exposed him like that, for one, for two, he was absolutely enraged at the way she had twisted everything as if it was his fault! Acting like he wanted to be dangerous, like he wanted to hurt people. It disgusted him. He would never hurt anyone, not on purpose!

Suddenly, as the anger in his chest swelled up and burned like dragon fire, he started sweating and shaking. He could feel the magic simmering right under his skin and it felt like pins and needles. He couldn’t breathe, it felt like all of the oxygen was sucked out of the room. It felt like he was drowning in the lake again. It felt like the Dark Lord’s hands were around his throat again…

Harry retched, but nothing came up. Umbridge was looking at him with an entirely different expression now, one that he recognized as fear. He looked down at himself in horror to see that his skin was glowing faintly blue once again, like it had during the ritual.

“Everyone out! He’s- he’s doing something!” Umbridge shrieked. She and the other students scrambled to get out of the room as quickly as possible, save for Draco, Hermione and Ron.

“Harry, calm down, everything is going to be okay. I’m right here with you, okay?” Draco said, his voice low and soothing, as he rubbed tentative circles on Harry’s back. Hermione crossed the room and gripped Harry’s hands with her own. Ron stood a small distance away with his arms folded self consciously over his chest.

“Is he okay?” Ron asked quietly, his voice trembling slightly. The others ignored him but Harry hastily shook his head.

“You guys need to get away from me! I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t want to hurt you!” Harry cried. His palms and the soles of his feet were burning painfully now, and smoke was coming out of the top of his head.

“I’m going to find Professor Snape!” Hermione said, dragging Ron along with her. Harry put his head in his hands, and he felt Draco step even closer yet and wrap both of his arms around him in a loose embrace.

“Draco, please, it’s not safe. I could kill you!” Harry sobbed, but he leaned into the hug nonetheless.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not scared of you, Potter.” Draco said with a wry grin and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You should be. I am.” Harry admitted.

“Well, you’re a pussy and I’m not.” Draco replied smoothly, even as he winced in pain from another blistering surge of Harry’s magic.

“imsorryimsorryimsorry!!” Harry stammered out over and over again, and he tried to push Draco away, but the boy held on even more tightly.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He said, and his voice was gentle and consoling.

Harry felt like he was out of control, with his wild magic smoldering around them. He had no idea how to stop this, he had never been prone to bouts of accidental magic once he’d started at Hogwarts. He had seen Severus go through it plenty of times, albeit never this intensely, but while his magic crackled like electricity, Harry’s was burning like fire. It felt like he had all of the power in the world at his fingertips, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it from spilling out.

The door flew open, and Severus ran in, with Ron and Hermione following close behind. Harry was thankful that they stayed a safe distance away, waiting at the door. Another wave of magic rolled off of Harry and Draco was pushed back several feet from the force. He landed hard on his back, smacking his head off of the floor on the way down, knocking himself unconscious. Severus dragged him away, back towards Ron and Hermione.

“Severus!” Harry cried, and he turned to face the man with tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to stop it!”

“It’s okay, Harry! Everything will be alright, we just have to try and calm down, now, okay?” Severus said in a voice that was uncharacteristically gentle, almost like he was talking to a baby, but not in a way that was condescending, just dripping with care.

“I killed him! I just killed Draco!” Harry bellowed, staring wide eyed at the steady flow of blood trickling down Draco’s face.

“No, Harry! Draco is okay, he is just knocked out, he is alive, you didn’t kill anyone! Everything is okay, let me help you.”

At this point Harry was too far gone, and he couldn’t have swallowed Severus’ reassurances if he tried. He opened his mouth to let out an anguished scream, and a breath of fire came out. The flames jotted from his lips and scalded his throat and tongue. Severus’ eyes widened in shock, and he cast a silent and wandless stupify. Harry’s world went black

Notes:

Posting this on July 31, so, Happy Birthday Harry!

Chapter 16: Lost

Notes:

TW: suicide & character death

(Harry)

 

It had been two weeks since his outburst in the Defense classroom, without any further incident. Draco had only needed to spend the night in the infirmary that night and had been right as rain the following morning, but that did nothing to quell Harry’s guilt. He had been excused from all future classes with Umbridge, however, and now Severus was tutoring him in the subject, which Harry was incredibly grateful for.

After the ritual, he had put up so many occlumency shields that for a long time, he couldn’t feel anything, and walked around in a haze, like a zombie. After the incident in Defense, however, it was like a dam had been finally broken inside of him. All of the fear, shame, anxiety and anguish that he had been so desperately holding back came flooding through his system like a tidal wave, and he didn’t know how to cope.

Severus seemed to have gone back on his potions restrictions entirely, because every night now, Harry had been able to sucker a Dreamless Sleep out of him with very little argument. There was a small voice in the back of Harry’s head that told him this was because Severus didn’t really give a shit anymore. That the man’s patience for him had clearly run its course, and now he would just do anything to get Harry off his back, even if just for a little while. The man was stressed like Harry had never seen, and he knew it was all his fault.

Harry had decided to try and give the man some space. He was so afraid of pushing Severus away with his constant drama and neediness. He couldn’t afford to lose him, Severus was the only adult he could trust, and the only person who could help him now. Harry was determined to prove to him that he wasn’t crazy, wasn’t a psycho, wasn’t dangerous or clingy or needy. He didn’t need anything at all, from anyone. He had spent the first 14 years of his life with absolutely nobody to offer him even a modicum of support. And now that he had Severus, he refused to take advantage of the man’s kindness. He needed to start handling things on his own.

It started with spending the night every now and then in the Slytherin dorms, like he was supposed to have done for weeks now. With the Dreamless Sleep, Harry didn’t have to worry anymore about waking up his roommates with his nightmares. He also spent more time with Draco, in the common room and in the library. He was so glad that the other boy was okay and that Harry hadn’t hurt him too badly. He was relieved that Draco still wanted to be his friend, despite everything that happened.

Hermione often joined them in the library, and sometimes stole a seat at their table when the Great Hall wasn’t too crowded. Ron had even stopped antagonizing him. He wasn’t friendly or anything, but it was more than enough that he stopped the bullshit.

Everything was simultaneously the worst it had ever been, and also more quiet and peaceful than it had been all term. It was like Harry was in the eye of a hurricane, with an eerie calmness directly overtop of him, but surrounded on all sides by a violent, turbulent storm.

It was the day before school closed for the Christmas holiday break, and Harry was staying at the castle with Severus. He had been invited to go to Grimmauld by the Weasleys, who would be staying there for the time being, and by Sirius himself, which was very surprising to Harry since he hadn’t spoken a word to his godfather since the summertime. He politely declined, knowing things would just be uncomfortable and awkward for them all with Harry there. He didn’t want to ruin their holidays, and Severus was already used to him being around all the time, ruining his life day by day, so his company on Christmas probably wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Draco was also staying at the castle, which Harry was very happy about. If he could just manage to split his time between Draco and Severus, maybe neither of them would get too sick of him. Despite his anxiety, which seemed to know no bounds any longer, he was trying his best to just live in the moment and appreciate the routine and delicate peace that he found himself in.

*******

Harry slid on his belly across the cold, black tiled floor. He knew he was in the Ministry, but he was unfamiliar with this particular branch, The Department of Mysteries. He knew he had never been here before, and yet he also knew exactly where he was going, as if he’d been here a thousand times.

He slithered lazily down a long drafty hallway, passing by many doors, most of which were locked and warded. He passed several ministry officials, who looked down and gawked at him before running and screaming in the opposite direction. He snapped threateningly at their heels as they ran past, knowing he could kill them easily with one nasty bite. This greatly amused him.

Finally at the end of the hall, he could smell exactly who he had come looking for. The man sat on a stool, guarding the door that Harry knew his master had been watching for so long. The man was asleep, much to his own mistake. His head was lolling to the side against his shoulder, exposing his warm neck. Harry’s mouth watered as he slithered up the man’s legs, flicking his tongue and tasting the man’s heat radiating off of him, so warm against Harry’s cold body.

He reared his head back and struck, snapping his jaws at the man’s tender neck. He could taste the sweet, metallic blood filling his mouth, slightly tangy and bitter from the fear and adrenaline that once coursed through the man’s veins, but now was spewing out of him. Harry lunged and struck again and again, biting his face and chest as the man weakly battered against Harry’s body, trying desperately to fight him off. It was of no use, however. Harry could feel the life draining out of the body as he lapped up the blood pouring from his neck. Harry slithered off of the man, who slumped over and fell off of the stool with a thud. His work here was done. His master would be so pleased.

Harry woke with a start, his scar burning with an intensity that he hadn’t felt since the night he killed Professor Quirrell. He retched over the side of his bed, sweating and shaking, as he yelled for Severus.

The man came quickly, running into Harry’s room with panic written all over his face. He ran to Harry’s bedside and sat beside him, trying to pry his trembling hands away from his scar, which was bleeding heavily.

“Harry, what happened? Please remove your hands, you’re hurting yourself!” Severus shouted, as Harry blabbered almost incoherently.

“I killed him! I killed Mr. Weasley!”

*******

Harry found himself less than twenty minutes later sitting in the Headmaster’s office, Severus standing behind him with both hands resting on Harry’s shoulders. Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, were all standing to the right of them. Ginny was sobbing as Ron held her tightly against himself, running his fingers through her hair and whispering comfortingly to her.

Arthur Weasley was dead, and Harry had had to be the one to tell his children. He owed them that much, he figured, since it was basically his fault they were now fatherless. Watching their faces crumple as the tears flowed from their eyes when he told them, however, was without a doubt the hardest thing Harry had ever had to do.

What was worse, was that they didn’t blame him. Nobody blamed him. He could still taste Mr. Weasley's blood in his mouth, he could still smell the man’s fear, and yet nobody blamed him for any of it at all. Ron had even hugged him loosely, before turning his full attention to consoling Ginny.

Harry wanted to scream, and cry and apologize profusely, and beg for their forgiveness. He wanted to hug Mrs. Weasley and support her in her grief. He wanted to stand before her while she cursed and hexed him, and punished him once and for all for taking her husband.

Severus rubbed Harry’s back, and he resented the comfort, though he leaned into it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any kindness or understanding, and especially not any forgiveness. He covered his face with his hands, trying to stop his pitiful sobbing. He didn’t deserve to mourn, not when it was all his fault.

“I believe you four should go to Grimmauld Place a little early, to be with your mother and your other siblings. This is a horrible tragedy that has happened, and you need each other now more than ever. You can take the floo directly to Headquarters from my office, and I will arrange to have your belongings sent to you in the morning. I am so sorry for your loss, Arthur Weasley was a very good man… One of the best I’ve ever known.” Dumbledore said softly. The four Weasleys nodded their thanks, while wiping away their tears before leaving one by one through Dumbledore’s fireplace.

Harry, Dumbledore and Severus sat without speaking for quite some time, while Harry sobbed brokenly, unable to compose himself. Severus continued rubbing his back, and Dumbledore had a house-elf bring them a tea service, but nothing could bring Harry any kind of solace now. He was a murderer. He was dangerous and unstable. He took away from a family a hard-working, dedicated father, who had so much love to give that you could see it in everything he did. He had loved Arthur Weasley like he was his own flesh and blood, and yet it was because of him that the man was gone.

It seemed like hours before Severus had to practically drag Harry away from the office and back down to their quarters. It was so late that the sky was starting to brighten from the pitch black of night to a dull grey, and he didn’t want to go back to sleep. The Dreamless Sleep potion hadn’t been enough to block out that nightmare/vision/whatever the hell it was, and he was dreading what he may see if he closed his eyes again.

Severus followed Harry into his room, and when he climbed into bed, Severus tucked his comforter firmly around him and gently kissed the top of his head. Harry was still sobbing, and when the man moved to leave the room, Harry reached out for him and grabbed Severus’ hand.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m scared.” Harry pleaded, his voice small and broken. Severus nodded, and laid down on the bed beside Harry, pulling him against his chest and holding onto him tightly. Severus started humming softly, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, and when Harry finally fell back asleep, thankfully he didn’t dream again.

*******

The next two weeks went by with Harry refusing to leave his bed. Christmas came and went. The rest of the students all returned to the castle and Harry still hadn’t left his room, only to use the loo. He couldn’t eat. Everything tasted like blood. He couldn’t really sleep. He was afraid of dreaming. He didn’t speak, or move, or do anything but sit there and think about Arthur Weasley.

“This has got to stop, Harry.” Severus said, and Harry jumped slightly, startled by the sudden sound after hours of silence. He hadn’t even realized the man was in the room. Harry turned his head to look at him. His neck was stiff from not having moved to even switch positions for days. His eyes were sore and puffy from crying. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his neck and forehead.

“You’re scaring me, and I don’t know what to do, Harry. I am so far out of my element with all of this… I don’t know how to help you… I think we need to consider going to the hospital.” Severus continued, his voice was thick and gravelly, his hair was greasy and unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach like he missed a step going down the stairs. He’d finally done it. Severus was done with him, and Harry couldn’t say he blamed the man at all.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, his voice strained from disuse and Severus shook his head vehemently.

“No, don’t be sorry, Harry. You haven’t done anything wrong, but you need help, more so than I can provide you.” The man sounded pained and desperate, his eyes glistened with tears unshed, and he gripped Harry’s hands in his own, running his thumbs across Harry’s knuckles.

“You’re sending me away.” It wasn’t a question, but Severus answered with another firm shake of his head.

“No! Never, I would never send you away. I love you Harry, but I’m worried sick-” his words were cut off when Harry’s magic surged out of him violently, throwing the man across the room.

“No! Severus! I’m so sorry!!” Harry cried desperately, he reached out for the man and fire shot from his fingertips, narrowly avoiding hitting Severus square in the face. Harry leapt up from the bed, his head spinning from standing so fast, and his legs wobbling.

“Harry, I’m fine! Calm down!” Severus shouted, though he was gripping his head and wincing in pain from smashing so forcefully against the wall. Harry ran from the room before Severus could stop him or say another word.

He was done.

He had never been more sure of that in his entire miserable life.

Harry raised his hand while he ran, silently summoning his wand from Severus’ quarters, and it came flying through the air into his open palm. He expected the usual tingle of magic to flow through the instrument and into his arm, but this time it burned with a searing hot pain that nearly stopped him in his tracks.

He kept running. It didn’t matter, he deserved the pain from his traitorous magic, anyways, after all the torment he’d put his loved ones through with it. This would be the last time he would ever use it again.

He found himself in the boys bathroom just outside of the Slytherin common room. He stared himself down in the mirror above the sinks, and he hated what he saw.

He was a freak. He was dangerous. He hurt everyone he ever cared about. He was a murderer. He was dark. He was everything bad that everyone had always said about him. He was everything bad that he had ever thought about himself.

Harry screamed and punched the mirror in front of him full force, shattering it and slicing his hand in the process. He watched with disgust as the mangled flesh stitched back together, leaving behind bloodied but flawless skin. What a freak, he thought to himself darkly, as the magic burned and swirled inside of him.

It was over.

He had lived two months with the volatile magic, and he hurt Draco, he hurt Severus twice now, and he killed Arthur all in that time span. How much further could he go on before he killed someone else? Or hurt someone permanently?

He never wanted to be here. He was never meant to be here. Arthur had loved life, loved his family and his job, and the world. If Harry could trade his life for Arthur’s he would have done so in a heart beat, but it was too late for him. Harry could never fix it. He could never bring him back.

Harry raised his wand, and placed the tip of it right against his lightning bolt scar.

The door to the bathroom flew open and Severus stormed in, but the sight of all of the broken glass and blood, as well as Harry with his wand to his head, froze the man in place.

“Harry…Put the wand down…” Severus choked out, his own wand brandished in a shaking hand, pointing at Harry.

Harry’s magic worked on its own volition, casting a protego over him. He could sense Severus’ attempt to disarm him silently, but the protego held up flawlessly. Part of him felt betrayed, that his own magic was helping him finally end his life, but maybe that was a sliver of the good part that was left over. The last little bit of pure magic he had left, aiding him in snuffing out the evil.

“No, Severus. I’m done.” Harry murmured, and he closed his eyes, tears spilling down his cheeks for the very last time.

“No!” Severus shouted and lunged toward him, just as Harry shouted the words. He would be too late to stop him. It was over. Finally over…

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Notes:

you’re welcome for the cliff hanger, let me know what you think

Chapter 17: Found

Notes:

Wow, thank you guys so much for all the feedback after that last chapter!! It makes my whole day seeing your comments, I’m so glad you’re enjoying my story so far and I really hope you love this chapter, as it’s my favorite one that I’ve written so far!

(Harry)

Harry was startled awake by the most terrible, most anguished screaming he had ever heard. It tore through his chest and echoed around the room, rattling the walls and shattering the windows. Harry thrashed his head wildly in every direction, trying to find the source of the pitiful crying.

It was Severus.

Suddenly, the realization of where he was, and the memory of what he had done hit Harry like a train, and he finally understood what exactly he was seeing.

“NO! HARRY, GOD NO!!” Severus screamed, cradling Harry’s body to his chest, shaking with desperate sobs. Magic crackled all around them as Severus rocked them back and forth, kissing the top of Harry’s head, and Harry could see that his whole face had been cracked open by the force of the killing curse, and was bleeding heavily.

Severus pressed his wand to his throat and cried out a deafening call for help, made even louder with a sonorous charm. Harry put his hands over his ears, but there was no way he could ever block out the devastating sounds the man was making.

“Oh my God, please Harry, no! This can’t be happening!” Severus wiped furiously at his own eyes and gripped Harry’s body by the shoulders and shook him violently.

“ENNERVATE!” Severus bellowed, waving his wand at Harry, but the body didn’t stir. Severus cast the spell again, and then shook him once more when nothing happened. For a moment, there was a break from Severus’ cries, and a pause in all of the movement, and an eerie silence settled over the room almost as if time stood still.

Suddenly, Severus slashed his wand across his palm and dripped his blood onto Harry’s body, muttering “Mater magica, redde eum” over and over again, but nothing happened. There was no glow or hum of magic, and the body didn’t budge.

Harry was dead.

He looked down at himself, now, and he looked exactly the same as he always had. He reached out and touched the wall beside him, and found that he didn’t pass through it. He looked down at Severus, and his own dead body and a shiver of panic ran through him. He dropped down to his knees, and tentatively reached out a shaky hand and traced his finger down the face of his corpse, and retched when he felt the dead flesh beneath his fingertips, already cold.

The door to the bathroom burst open, and Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore and McGonagall rushed in. Harry could see a congregation of concerned students forming outside the door, and Professor Flitwick was trying to keep them out of the way.

“Poppy, help him!” Severus cried, his voice hoarse from screaming. He scooted out of the way for the mediwitch, but still kept hold on Harry’s head, stroking the corpse’s hair.

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she knelt down beside him and put her fingers to Harry’s neck checking for a pulse. Her eyes widened when she couldn’t feel one.

“He Avada’d himself.” Severus croaked, hanging his head and letting out another pained sob. Madam Pomfrey put her hand to her mouth and gasped. Dumbledore staggered in the doorway and clutched the wall to steady himself.

“Severus, he’s-” Madam Pomfrey started, but Severus cut her off.

“DON’T SAY IT! He is going to be okay! We are going to save him!” Severus roared, brandishing his wand at the corpse. His eyes were wild, he was trembling violently, and tears and snot were streaming down his face. He looked insane with grief. Like he had finally snapped.

“He’s gone, Severus.” Dumbledore said softly, and Severus tried to ennervate the body once more, but it was fruitless. The man collapsed fully onto the floor, clutching Harry’s hand in his own with a grip so hard that his knuckles were white.

“No no no this cannot be happening.” He muttered to himself as Madam Pomfrey rubbed his back in an effort to comfort the broken man.

Harry reached forward to grab ahold of Severus, desperate to console him somehow, but unlike before, this time his hands passed right through Severus as if he weren’t even there.

“What?” Harry gasped. Why is it he could touch his own corpse, but nobody else? Was he a ghost? Why couldn’t he go through the walls, in that case? Harry sat back against the wall and tucked his knees up into his chest, resting his head on his knees and folding his arms around his legs, holding himself tightly. He was very afraid, and confused, and remorseful for what he had done to Severus. The man looked so devastated, so defeated, and it was all Harry’s fault. He killed himself right in front of him, after everything Severus had done for all of these years to keep him alive.

“I’m so sorry, Severus.” Harry whispered softly to himself, when he felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder.

“He can’t hear you, love.” Said a quiet voice, and Harry looked up to find himself staring into the eyes of his mother.

Lily Potter looked exactly the same as she had that day in the graveyard, with her flowing red locks and her bright green eyes. She was still young, forever trapped in her early twenties, and still so beautiful. It hurt to look at her, knowing she would still be alive if it weren’t for him. Harry just stared for a long time with his mouth hanging open.

“Mum?” He asked, stupidly, and Lily smiled at him happily and nodded her head.

“Yes, Harry.” She answered simply, as she sat down against the wall beside him. They both sat and watched the scene before them. Madam Pomfrey conjured a stretcher and she and Severus together levitated the corpse onto it. Severus laid a white sheet overtop the body and put his head in his hands.

“Take him to the infirmary. I have some things I want to try…” Severus said, and the others gave him a worried look.

“What do you mean, Severus? What do you want to try?” Dumbledore asked.

“To bring him back.”

The Professors and the mediwitch left the bathroom, headed for the infirmary. McGonagall and Dumbledore trailed behind, whispering together about their worries of Severus attempting to dabble in necromancy. Neither of them had the heart to say anything to his face about it right then and there, however, and they left before Harry could hear anymore.

He sat beside his mother for a long time, neither one of them speaking, both just enjoying being in one another’s company. Harry was struggling to process everything going on. He never imagined death to be this way. Was he stuck here now? Forever? Doomed to wander around and watch the world go by without him?

“What’s happening?” Harry asked her nervously. She gave him a sad smile and reached for his hand.

“You’re dead, my love.” Lily answered, her voice so gentle and calm. She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Where are we? Are we…ghosts? Are we in heaven?”

“No. I’m not exactly sure where we are. It’s not heaven and it’s not hell, but rather, some kind of limbo in between,” She explained, “its where all the lost souls go.”

While his mother’s voice and presence brought him a semblance of peace and comfort, her words unsettled him greatly.

“Lost souls?” He gulped, and she hummed in agreement, solemnly.

“Are there other people here?”

“Oh yes, there are loads.” She laughed, and it sounded ethereal, like wind chimes.

“Why are you here?” He then asked, and Lily looked at him with sorrow in her eyes. She gripped his hand tighter, and paused for a moment to gather her thoughts before responding.

“Well, Harry, I am here because that was the condition for my sacrifice. You see, blood magic, while incredibly powerful, always comes with a price. The wards that I placed on you that night were some of the strongest protections that a witch could have ever had in her arsenal. But in exchange for that power, I forfeited my soul. I can never move on, Harry. I just wander. I mostly watch you, and I watch over Severus and my old friends…” Lily trailed off. She sounded much sadder now than she had before, and Harry’s heart broke for his mother. This beautiful, selfless woman gave her life for him. Her life and her soul. Because of Harry, she was doomed to rot in this purgatory all alone for all these years. For the rest of eternity.

“I’m so sorry, mum.” Harry stammered out as his emotions began to overtake him once more. Lily pulled Harry fiercely by his arm and dragged him into a crushing embrace.

“You listen to me, Harry!” She cried sternly, and she waited until he looked her in her eyes before she continued.

“You are my son. I created you. I carried you in my body, and I delivered you into this world. I love you more than anything in the entirety of the universe Harry! There is nothing, NOTHING, I wouldn’t have done to keep you safe. You are my baby. You are my sweet, beautiful boy. And even knowing all that I know now, what would become of me and my soul, I wouldn’t change a thing. I would die a thousand deaths for you, Harry, with a smile on my face. You never have to apologize to me, not for anything. I am your mother. You are half of my heart. I love you so much, Harry, and it’s me that should be apologizing to you for all that you’ve had to endure since my death.”

They were both weeping openly by the time Lily finished speaking, and then they both sat there for a long time holding each other. Lily told him stories from when he was a baby, and stories about his grandparents and from when she grew up, and Harry told her about his best friends, and how much he had loved and missed Hedwig, and all about his favorite subjects in school. They laughed, and they cried, and Lily hummed him a tune he vaguely remembered Severus humming to him once. When he thought about the man, he felt a painful stab of guilt in his chest.

“Can we go check on Severus?” Harry asked his mother and she flashed him a brilliant smile.

“Of course, my love.”

They walked together to the infirmary in silence. The corridors were completely deserted. It was late, but not yet past curfew. It was uncomfortable to see the castle so empty, it made it much harder to ignore the gravity of the situation he found himself in.

When they got to the corridor leading to the infirmary, Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach when he saw a very distraught Hermione, sobbing and being comforted by Ron, who looked pale and like he’d aged ten years since Harry had last seen him. Of course he did, Harry thought to himself bitterly. He had just dealt with the death of his father, and now this? That pang of guilt struck Harry in the heart once again.

Draco was sitting on the floor across from the infirmary doors with his head in his hands. He didn’t move or make a sound, but Harry could see the slight tremble in his shoulders that told him that the boy was crying. Neville and Luna Lovegood sat at the other end of the corridor, looking every bit as dreadful as the others.

Lily placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder as they stepped into the infirmary together. The place was deserted, except for Harry’s body and Severus sitting beside it.

The man was just staring at the corpse and carding his fingers through its hair. Severus still had a steady flow of tears pouring from his eyes, but he was completely silent now, and Harry could tell that he was occluding like mad. Harry wished that he could hug the man, and tell him how sorry he was for the pain he’d caused him. Lily gave his shoulder a squeeze and pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple.

“He’s a wreck.” Harry said quietly, and of course it was the understatement of the century. Lily nodded sadly in agreement. She placed her ghostly hand on Severus’ back and her fingers dipped into him as she trailed her hand up and down his spine. Of course he couldn’t feel it, he didn’t move and gave no inclination that he could sense either of them standing beside him.

“Of course he is, Harry. He just lost his only son.”

All the wind felt like it was forcibly knocked out of Harry’s lungs, and it felt like the floor dropped out from beneath him at his mother’s somber words.

“What?” Harry asked dumbfoundedly, not able to form a more eloquently worded question than that, but Lily knew what he meant, anyway.

“Severus is your biological father, Harry.” She admitted quietly, and Harry couldn’t help feel a spark of anger flare up inside of him.

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?!” Harry shouted incredulously, before remembering he was speaking to his mother, and fixed his attitude immediately.

“Dumbledore put him under a fidelous charm.” She told him in a quiet voice, and a surge of embarrassment flowed through him, as well as grief. So that is what Severus had wanted to tell him that night? That Harry was his son?

“This doesn’t make any sense… what about my da- what about James Potter?” Harry asked her, and Lily looked down at the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Harry… James and I had a difficult relationship. I won’t speak ill of him. He died to protect me as well as my son, and for that I will be forever grateful… but he wasn’t a very kind man. We argued all the time, and I had been thinking about leaving him. But then… One night, we got into a huge fight, and it was worse than it had ever been. We both had our wands drawn on each other, it could have been a bloody mess. Before things could get too heated, though, I left and I went to Severus’ house. It had been a few years since we spoke, but Severus had always been my best friend. I regretted so much how we drifted apart, and that night, I made a very selfish choice, and I sought comfort from the man I trusted and loved.

“After that night, however, neither of us made another effort to contact one another. Soon after, I found out I was pregnant and I got scared… I knew you were his, but Severus had been mixed up with some very bad people, and although I knew he didn’t necessarily share their views of blood purity, I also knew that if they found out he had a child with a muggle born it would put a big target on all of our backs.

“Despite his shortcomings, James was a good man. He was strong, he was powerful, he was wealthy, and was head of the Auror department. I knew James would do anything to keep me and his child safe… so I never told him about my affair. I married him and I dedicated my life to our family. And we were a beautiful family, Harry. James loved you so very much. He was a wonderful father to you… though, watching Severus with you this year has made me sincerely regret that I never even gave him a chance. How unfair it is to him to have never gotten a proper chance to know his son… and now…” Lily didn’t say any more, she just wiped her tears furiously and continued her mimicry of a caress across the man’s back and shoulders.

“I never meant to hurt you, Severus.” She whispered, as she kissed the air next to his cheek. Although Harry knew that Severus couldn’t really hear them or feel their presence in the room, just then he looked up and unknowingly met Harry’s gaze just for a brief moment. Harry saw the absolute depths of despair in his eyes. His father... Mourning him despairingly, having lost the last person on earth the man cared about. Self admittedly his only friend, and his ally.

Harry was so distraught with remorse and crushing regret. How could he have done this? Thrown his life away? Left his father and all of his friends to grieve him? And for what??? To toil away for all of eternity watching life pass by on the outside looking in? Harry folded in on himself, sobbing brokenly.

“I’m sorry Severus… I’m sorry dad…. I love you and I’m so sorry.” Harry choked out, and once again as if the man really could see him after all, he met Harry’s eyes. He was whispering something now, but Harry couldn’t quite make out what it was he was saying. Harry leaned in closer to listen.

“Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven…” Severus chanted the Lord’s Prayer almost inaudibly, his deep voice shaky and thick with emotion. His eyes were closed now, and he had one hand on the corpse’s chest, and the other on his heart. Harry had never seen anyone look so lost.

“I wish I could come back to you.” Harry whispered, when suddenly he heard a throaty cough to his right. He turned and dropped his jaw when he saw Cedric Diggory sitting cross legged on the bed at the feet of Harry’s corpse. Harry stared at the boy in shock, wondering what on Earth he could be doing here. Was Cedric a lost soul too? How could that have happened?

“Cedric?” Harry croaked, but even as he said the name Harry could tell it wasn’t really him. He wore Cedric’s face, but his eyes were completely black, and his skin was much paler than the real Cedric Diggory’s tanned complexion.

“No, Harry, I’m not Cedric. It’s just easier to speak to you in a form you recognize.” The entity spoke, and it’s voice was both low and high pitched at the same time, as if it were multiple people speaking at once in perfect unison. Slowly, it’s face morphed into the pinched, horselike face of his aunt Petunia. Right beside him, Lily’s breath hitched at the sight of her sister.

“What are you?” Lily asked in a quiet voice, pulling Harry closer towards her.

“Death.” It answered simply, and Harry felt a chill roll down his spine.

“Wh-what do you want?” Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Death smiled brightly with aunt Petunia’s face, and it didn’t at all fit her features. The real aunt Petunia had never smiled that widely, and it made her face look stretched and uncanny.

“I want to help you, Harry. I want to send you back.” Death replied, and Harry shared a look of bewilderment with his mother before turning his gaze back to Death, who now looked like uncle Vernon.

“How?” Harry whispered, and Death gave him that same eerie smile again, that was too wide for anyone’s face.

“Well, you see Harry Potter, you can go back because you’re not really dead.”

“What? How?? You can see my body right there. My bloody brain is practically sticking out.” Harry blurted out in surprise. It might not be the smartest idea to mouth off to Death itself with a cheeky attitude, but he couldn’t help himself. Death didn’t seem to mind however. He laughed lightly and his face morphed into that of Arthur Weasley, and Harry felt his heart twinge in pain at the sight of the man. The man he killed.

As if Death could read Harry’s mind, he smiled at him kindly.

“Harry, dear boy. You carry so much anguish with you. You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, and carry the burden of lives lost that were never your responsibility. May I absolve you of this guilt, child?” Death switched now to the likeness of Professor Quirrell.

“I, and only I, am responsible for Death. For that is what I am. I choose who leaves this world, and who enters it. Some people walk the Earth with hubris in their hearts, having no respect for the brilliance of the lives around them. They make the choice to stomp it and crush it out, and take my purpose into their own greedy hands. You are not, nor have you ever been, one of those people, child.

“I watched your birth. I have seen every moment of your life. I know your soul, as I have known every other. And you are good. You are kind. Your soul is pure, and now, after all of this you are finally free from the darkness which tainted you.” Death was beaming now, it’s lips curled up inhumanly as its face changed into that of James Potter. He pointed up at Harry’s scar.

“The night your mother died for you, Harry Potter, a fragment of Tom Riddle’s soul attached itself to your own, and it has been leeching darkness into you ever since. It gave you power, yes, immense and terrible power that was slowly burning you away from the inside out. But today, you destroyed it. If you so choose, you can go back with your soul untainted. You can save your father from walking down a path that will destroy his soul for your vengeance. You can aid in saving the Wizarding world, and stop countless more people dying in this war. If you choose. You can of course stay here with your mother. It’s up to you. I leave the choice in your hands. Should you like to return, simply step into your body and claim it once again.” Death smiled with James’ face one more time, until he transformed into a beautiful white snowy owl. His Hedwig. The bird nuzzled his hand and pecked him affectionately before flying out the double doors, out of sight.

Harry turned his head to see his mother beaming at him, with tears glistening in her eyes. Her smile was so bright, and she looked at him with unmistakable hope and happiness that wasn’t there before.

“Harry! My love, this is incredible! Did you hear that? You get to go back!” She practically bounced on her feet as she grabbed Harry’s hands and gave them a squeeze.

“But, then you will be alone…” Harry said quietly, after a while. Lily shook her head ferociously and gave him a small shake.

“Harry, no! I am never alone. I have you, and I have Severus, and I am with you always. You are so young, you have so much life left ahead of you to live. I want you to go back. I want you to fall in love, and make lots of trouble, and live the happy life I always wanted for you. I know that things can be hard, but most people only ever get one chance at this life. And now you’re being given the opportunity to return, and I need you to take it.” Her voice was strong and unwavering. Harry could see the determination in her eyes, and Harry knew he would have to do it for her. He wouldn’t let her sacrifice be in vain. He wouldn’t let his father suffer here all alone.

“I’m going back.” He said in a small voice, and he could hear his own trepidation lacing his every word. But along with that fear, he felt a newfound surge of hope. Spending this day with his mother, getting to know her and being held in her arms helped heal something inside of him that had been broken for a very long time. And now, he had his father to live for as well.

He gave his mother a final hug and kiss goodbye, wiping the tears from his face to give her his brightest smile, before he laid back into his body and watched her fade away.

Harry felt himself take a shuddering gasp of life, and slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the incredible amount of pain he was in, followed shortly by the fact that he could only see out of his left eye. He tried to turn his head, but groaned in agony when it felt like the simple motion jostled his entire central nervous system.

“H-Harry?!” Severus gasped above him, resting a shaking hand on his chest. Harry reached out and took the man’s hand in his own, ignoring the roaring pain in his head to give him a small smile.

“Hey dad.”

Chapter 18: Taking Back the Reins

(Severus)

Watching Harry cast Avada Kedavra on himself had been the worst thing Severus had ever seen. He had served the Dark Lord since the age of seventeen, and he had borne witness to countless horrific atrocities that had haunted his nightmares, soured his heart and turned him bitter and cynical. And yet, all of it was nothing in comparison to what it felt like to watch his son die right in front of him, by his own hand no less, while Severus was absolutely powerless to stop it. The grief, the rage, and the incredulity that he felt… was indescribable. He had nearly lost his mind right there in that bathroom, clutching the bleeding corpse of his beautiful child on the dirty floor.

He could not accept this… would not accept this. Harry couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t be dead. Not after everything he had survived. Not now, not like this… Severus had barely been given the chance to be a father to the boy before it was so savagely ripped away from him. He’d held the most precious gift, cradling it so delicately in his hands and now it slipped through his fingers, once again. He prayed God would give him one more chance. Let him try just one more time…

He had allowed Dumbledore and Poppy to move him to the infirmary, but only to buy himself some time. He was not going to lose Harry without putting up the fight of his life. He would research necromancy, blood magic, dark rituals; he would travel the world, and seek knowledge from witch doctors and voodoo priestesses if he had to. He would give his own life in the process. Anything. Just to bring Harry back.

The infirmary had been kept empty, to allow Severus to mourn privately, which was one small kindness granted by Albus. Severus would rather the children didn’t see his boy like this. The killing curse had blasted his face wide open, and the wound was gruesome. Severus could clearly see right down to Harry’s skull, and his right eye was obliterated.

He sat there for a long time, watching over his son in despair, cycling through all five stages of grief over and over again. He ran his fingers through Harry’s matted and disheveled hair, caked with blood and brain matter. He hummed a lullaby Lily used to sing to him as children when he’d run away to escape the brutality of his father. He prayed to every God and Goddess he could think of, and begged them all to give Harry back.

It was just before midnight, and exhausted though he may be, Severus knew he could not sleep. He was terrified of the nightmares that would plague him the minute he rested his eyes. Not even the Dreamless Sleep potion could stave off the exceptionally powerful nightmares that Severus would be having. He knew eventually Poppy would come in, and she would force Severus to consume a myriad of potions and order him to get some rest in one of the adjacent beds. Severus would brandish his wand at the woman and threaten to blow her head off of her body if she dared step one foot between him and Harry.

He had no time, however, to contemplate his many plots for murder. At the opposite end of the infirmary, the double doors opened wide, and for a brief moment Severus could have sworn he saw an owl fly out into the corridor. A noise coming from the bed in front of him caused Severus to snap his attention back to Harry at once, and for a moment, his heart stopped beating.

Harry was… moving. Severus watched in awe as Harry gasped in a shuddering breath and turned his head slightly, grimacing at the pain the movement must have caused. Harry fluttered open his eye and met Severus’ gaze with his own. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Showing him what he so desperately wanted in a burst of shameless insanity?

“H-Harry?!” Severus gasped, placing a shaking hand on Harry’s chest. He could feel his son’s heart frantically beating. He could feel the warmth returning to his flesh. This was real. Harry was alive!

“Hey dad.” Harry said with a cheeky smile, and he placed his own hand on top of his, still on Harry’s chest.

Severus was in such a state of disbelief. He no longer knew what reality was, and what was a sick nightmare, or a deluded fantasy. The flow of tears that Severus had been crying the entire day had never stopped, but now they flooded from his red and puffy eyes like small rivers cascading down his face. His son was alive. Harry was alive, by some miracle he dare not question, Harry was alive!

Harry was kept in a medically induced coma for sixteen days after he had come back to the realm of the living. His injuries were grave, and could have been enough to kill him all over again on their own. Severus and Poppy both had done a scan on the boy’s magical signature to find nothing. There was none of the familiar golden glow of Harry’s magic, and there was none of the ominous red glow coming from Harry’s forehead either. There was not one hint of magic left in him at all. Even squibs had a spark of something, but now Harry was basically a muggle.

It explained why Harry’s unusual ability for rapid healing was no longer working, as well as why none of the potions they poured down his throat or any of the healing charms cast on his body would do a damn thing. He would need to be treated with muggle medicine. Severus didn’t care. As long as Harry lived, he would protect his son with everything he had until the day he died. He had a plan, regardless, to bring Harry’s magic back. A plan he knew with every fiber of his being would work, in due time.

A team of three muggle-born healers from St. Mungos were hired to care for Harry around the clock, under strict observation from Severus himself of course, to do what they could to treat Harry while he was still comatose. His prognosis was rather severe, but there was a general consensus that the boy would pull through.

The massive fissure in Harry’s face had been meticulously sewn closed as precisely as the healers could, though Severus was told he would most likely still have a nasty scar. Harry’s eye was unsalvagable. He would be permanently blinded in it, even if Severus could restore Harry’s magic and they could begin healing him more efficiently. He had essentially given himself a curse scar, and no amount of potions and healing magic could touch the eye.

They wrapped Harry’s entire head in bandages, with tubes and wires sticking out from beneath them every which way. Severus would watch the steady rise and fall of his chest to assure himself that, yes, the boy was still alive. The healing was going as good as could be expected, under the circumstances. Harry didn’t contract any infections, nor did the skin graft from his thigh to his face reject. Finally, on the sixteenth day after the incident, Harry was woken from the coma.

The infirmary had been bustling with people since that night. Healers and doctors and professors and students and people from the press. But now, the room was vacant from all but Severus and Harry, and silent save for the sounds of their breathing.

“Hello, dad.” Harry finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence around them. Severus reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand.

“Hello, son.” Severus responded, giving Harry the ghost of a reassuring smile. It felt good to finally be able to refer to his child that way out loud. Since that day of Harry’s suicide attempt, the fidelus charm had been broken. Severus wasn’t sure of the reasoning, he assumed Albus broke the spell out of a reluctant respect for the dead. But nothing stopped him from recasting it when the old man had found out that Harry was in fact alive, which led Severus to believe Dumbledore had nothing to do with it after all. Either way, it didn’t matter. Harry knew, somehow, and Severus could speak freely without magical chains binding his mouth shut, and that’s all Severus cared about.

“How are you feeling?” Severus asked him, and Harry shrugged, then winced.

“Very sore.” Harry replied, and Severus stood to show Harry the button that would trigger a morphine drip through the IV in his arm. He watched as Harry mashed the button once, worried for a moment that the boy would try to press the button more than was necessary, though Severus had been assured by the healers that the button locked for an hour between each press.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, his voice was quiet and shy. Severus held back a dark chuckle, and the biting response that was right there on the tip of his tongue. How did he feel? He felt terrible. He hadn’t slept in two weeks. He hadn’t left this room since that awful night. He hadn’t eaten or showered, unless Poppy had threatened him directly. He was right on the edge of sanity at all hours of the day, worried sick that his child would slip away once again if he wasn’t watching constantly.

“I’m doing good, Harry. I couldn’t be better, knowing that you are here and you are safe.” Severus said sincerely, and the hesitant smile that Harry gave him warmed his heart from the inside.

“I’m sorry… for what I did. Especially right in front of you… that’s the worst thing I’ve ever done… I’m so sorry dad.” Harry replied, and tears flowed from his good eye while a small trickle of blood streaked fluid leaked from the other. Severus reached up and dabbed the boy’s face lightly with a handkerchief, cleaning away the blood and the tears.

“I was so afraid, Harry. I have never been more afraid, or more desperate, in my entire life,” Severus said quietly. He gripped Harry’s hand and traced small circles on the back of his knuckles with his thumb as he continued, “I thought I lost you. I-I… I watched you die. Right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do. My child, taken from me once again. It was horrible. It nearly killed me, Harry. Please, I’m begging you, never put me through something like that ever again.” Harry tightly clutched Severus’ hand in both of his.

“I won’t. I promise. I want to live… for you, and for mum. I regretted what I did the second I cast that spell, and I can never tell you how sorry I am. Can you forgive me?” The look in Harry’s eye was so small and fearful, that Severus cupped his cheek with his hands so gently, and kissed Harry on the forehead.

“I forgive you. I love you, Harry. I can’t bear to lose you. You mean the world to me, and I am just so happy that you are alive,” a choked sob escaped from Severus’ lips while he spoke, “Thank you for coming back to me.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Severus in a firm embrace, and they both sat on Harry’s bed, holding each other for a long time. Severus hummed to him, and rocked him back and forth, and soon enough Harry fell asleep safe in his father’s arms.

*******

Harry was on a long road to recovery. He had a heavy stream of antibiotics, pain killers, mild sedatives and SSRIs flowing through his IV 24/7. His damaged eye would require surgery in the future after his condition was more stable. For now, Poppy Pomfrey estimated he would need another week of round the clock observation in the infirmary.

Severus was overwhelmed to say the least. Between watching over Harry ever diligently like some kind of dark Guardian Angel, and dealing with healers and muggle doctors, specialists and psychiatrists alike, Severus had virtually no time to entertain Albus’ never ending requests for a meeting at Headquarters. Not only did he genuinely not have the time, but he also just didn’t get on with anyone in the Order, and felt no need to keep them informed on the status of his son. Not when it meant sacrificing any time spent with him, anyway, and Harry was in no condition to travel. There was just too much going on to even consider it. Not to mention the constant burning, stinging pain in his Dark Mark driving him right to the brink of madness.

The Dark Lord loved to torture Severus through his Dark Mark, as punishment for his treachery. Severus had carved the Mark out of his arm thrice since he’d abandoned his ranks in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, and yet, it grew back with a vengeance every time. The binding magic behind the Dark Mark was very complex and could not easily be broken. When the Dark Lord created the spell he cast it in Parseltongue, and Severus was sure that blood magic was involved in more than one way. Any attempted removal of the Mark was rumored to lead one to bleed to death, as was threatened by the Dark Lord himself. However, that wasn’t true in Severus’ experience, the Mark would just stubbornly regrow after a while, albeit darker and more painful each time.

Right now the wretched thing was as black as coal, and crusted over, with an angry red haze surrounding the irritated flesh. He knew he would have to remove it once again, and soon, though he dreaded the state in which it would return. The burn was agonizing as it was, and he shuddered to think how much worse it was bound to get.

It was late one evening after Harry had already gone to sleep for the night, when Severus could no longer reasonably refuse Albus’ summons. The blasted Phoenix, Fawkes, had dropped a bit of parchment in front of him reading : Headquarters. Fifteen minutes.

Severus breathed an exasperated sigh, knowing the old man would not stand being ignored any longer. He set a number of wards, monitors and alarms on Harry and his surroundings that to anyone else would seem incredibly over the top, before flooing to Grimmauld Place, feeling very tired, wary and paranoid. His only comfort was knowing Poppy would still be here in his stead.

He floo’d into a full house. All of the eldest Weasleys, Black, Lupin, Shakelbolt, Moody, Tonks, and Dumbledore were already seated and their eyes followed him as he took his usual spot at the table.

“How is Harry doing, Severus?” Molly Weasley asked in a trembling voice, leaning across the table towards him. Severus reached out and took her hand. The woman looked a wreck. Despite the recent animosity between their children, he knew that Molly and Arthur had always loved his son, and treated him like their own.

“He is doing much better. Thank you for asking, Molly. You are of course welcome to visit him any time.” Severus responded, giving her an attempt at a warm smile, but he was exhausted and emotionally scrubbed raw, so it most likely looked more like a grimace. If it did, she didn’t say anything. She just squeezed his hand and nodded at him kindly, assuring him she would visit Harry soon.

Lupin and Black were whispering conspiratorially together in the corner of the room at the other end of the table with a charm silencing their fiery conversation. Moody had both eyes shamelessly fixed on him, like an eagle eyeing its prey. Dumbledore cleared his throat to call attention.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

The room was absolutely silent following Albus’ words. Nobody but Dumbledore himself had ever heard the prophecy in full. Severus replayed it in his head and his heart sank with his growing understanding. He hated so much as the concept of prophecies. The whole subject of divination, in his opinion, was infuriatingly subjective. The future, Severus thought to himself, happens to be a force that is ever changing, and all through history men have wasted away attempting to predict and conform it to their will. He refused to believe that fate itself chose his son in particular to vanquish a Dark Lord as an infant, but simple minded men have made it so. Had made it Harry’s responsibility based on… what? Superstitious fortune telling? The power of suggestion? The words of a daft, eccentric woman who had been drunk off her arse at the time?

Harry was very intelligent, and when he had his magic he was truly an extraordinarily capable wizard. But the fact remained that he was still a child. He was not yet fully educated, let alone properly trained for any kind of combat. He could not be expected to take down the most powerful wizard of all time, regardless of what that idiotic prophecy said. Severus scoffed out loud, the first person in the room daring to make a sound. Albus continued without acknowledging him.

“I will come back to that… now, who here has ever heard of a horcrux?”

Moody, Shakelbolt and Tonks snapped their heads up in unison with equal looks of terror shared across their faces. Black and Lupin also paled at the term. The Weasleys all looked confused. Severus felt cold all over, as if he’d been doused in ice water.

“A horcrux is a particularly dark piece of magic… it is a container where one stores a fraction of their soul. I have discovered that this is the secret to Voldemort’s current state of immortality. With information I gathered from none other than Horace Slughorn earlier this year, it has come to my recent understanding that Voldemort has created six of these horcruxes. One of which has been destroyed already. Two of which I know for sure their location, and I have strong assumptions for the whereabouts of the others as well.

“Ordinarily I would not share such potentially hazardous information with so many people, but I fear much is at stake and I cannot endeavor this task on my own. We need to find and destroy each one before Voldemort can be destroyed.”

“Give me the locations, Albus, and I can get a team of Aurors to fetch the fucking things by the end of the work week!” Moody shouted, his one eye glimmering and his magical eye still fixed on Severus.

“Alastor, I cannot in good conscience agree to that plan of action. The ministry is compromised. We cannot alert Voldemort to what we are doing, else we risk him changing the locations or worse, creating additional horcruxes.” Dumbledore responded solemnly.

“What does this have to do with the prophecy?” Black asked quietly. He was pale and had a thin sheen of sweat glossing over his forehead. Lupin was clutching his arm looking equally distressed. Severus was uncomfortable with their reactions to say the least. He had to turn away. Albus fidgeted with his beard and let out a deep sigh.

“This is the part that I have dreaded discussing the most. Since I have known of the prophecy, I have kept my eye on young Harry. I have known him from birth. I have watched that boy through every stage of his life, knowing that one day he would be our saviour… I have pondered over this prophecy every day since I have heard it. It is the greatest puzzle of my life, and I have worked tirelessly to solve it.

“I believe that on that fateful day that Lily and James Potter were murdered, and Voldemort attempted to take the life of baby Harry, that a fraction of Voldemort’s soul latched onto him, and created an unknowing horcrux inside of him. His scar… This is why he can speak Parseltongue, it’s why they share a mental connection, and explains the darkness of Harry’s magic when it became unstable earlier this year.

“The ‘power the dark lord knows not’, I believe, refers to the potential power we have over Voldemort through the manipulation of this horcrux. With the use of Legilimency, I believe we could exploit the mental connection they share to attack Voldemort from the inside. We could also explore our ability to peer into his mind remotely through Harry to gather information about his upcoming plans... It will be prudent to get Harry to retrieve the prophecy from the ministry soon, before Voldemort finally makes a real move on it.”

Severus stared at Albus incredulously with a gaping mouth. The old man had finally cracked.

“You’re barking mad!” Black cried, and for that brief moment Severus felt a wave of solidarity and something close to affection surge through him for the mutt.

“Albus, he has no magic and he has just gone through a traumatic brain injury. He cannot withstand any Legilimency attack now, let alone one that could kill someone else remotely.” Severus said through gritted teeth, his voice even and cold.

“He most likely killed off the horcrux when he Avada’d himself.” Lupin added, ever the voice of reason.

“It can’t be. I know that war is difficult, my boys, and information like this may be hard to swallow, but this is the boy’s destiny. The prophecy is absolute, it cannot be changed once it is foretold, and all evidence points to this being the only answer. I’ve examined every possible side to this prophecy and I believe with all of my heart that this is what we’re meant to do.” Albus said gravely.

“Have you examined the possibility that the prophecy never pertained to Harry in the first place?” Severus asked icily, keeping his voice low, and he continued before Albus could give an answer, “Have you considered the possibility that Sybil Trelawney is a complete fraud? Or that prophecies in general are a sham? Have you considered the possibility that you have misinterpreted the whole thing? Or that it pertains to an entirely different Dark Lord and the infant spoken of will be born at the end of a July 500 years in the future? You know the Department of Mysteries is full of prophecies dating back over a millennium! You have NO evidence whatsoever that your assumptions are correct, you’re not a prophet, or an oracle! You will not tear into my son’s mind on mere speculation alone!”

“Severus, see reason! What other Dark Lord could there be? You are being willfully ignorant, and I will not tolerate it! I will NOT let you cost us this war! The prophecy speaks of Voldemort and Harry, for that I am certain! It is his DESTINY!” Albus roared, losing all of his carefully crafted composure, looking like a true madman as he shook with fury. Severus’ magic was growing wild and untamed as it crackled around them with visible sparks.

“He is a child, Albus! Have you not listened to a word I said?! Legilimency will KILL him! He is not stable! He is barely out of the woods in his recovery, he has only been awake from his coma for two days and you’re already condemning him!” Severus bellowed, and Albus scoffed and waved his hand impatiently.

“It says right in the prophecy that either must die at the hand of the other, only Voldemort himself could kill him, don’t you understand?! It’s why it has been impossible for the boy to destroy himself!” Dumbledore shouted back furiously.

“But you can’t know that for certain…” Lupin interrupted softly.

“We will know when we try!” Albus retorted, his voice so uncharacteristically venomous that everyone looked at him with a stunned expression, as they all seemed to question how much they really knew this man at all.

“YOU WILL NOT DO ANYTHING TO MY CHILD!” Severus screamed, slamming his hands down on the table and the whole house rumbled with the force of the magic radiating off of him.

“You listen to me, Albus Dumbledore… Harry is MY child! MINE! You have NO say whatsoever what will or will not be done with him. You can threaten me, curse me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, but you will not lay one finger on that child’s head, nor cast a single spell at him or I swear on my soul I will fucking kill you! Do you hear me?! He is fifteen fucking years old, he is a student at your school and that is ALL he is to you! He isn’t one of your soldiers, he isn’t a part of your fucking Order, he is just a boy!” Severus was seething with rage. He had his wand aimed at Albus’ chest, and he stared down the elder wizard with a gaze of such fury, nobody else dared to intervene. Molly, Black and Lupin looked as though they agreed with every word Severus had said, while the Aurors and the other Weasleys looked like they just wanted to help de-escalate the situation however they could.

“Okay, why don’t we all just take a deep breath and try to calm down…” Kingsley said with easy authority, and while Dumbledore immediately sat himself, Severus hesitated with his wand still pointed.

“Yes, there’s no need to get so worked up right now. We need to find and destroy the other horcruxes before there's any need to even explore this further… there were other matters I would like to discuss if you’re amenable to continuing, without the theatrics, Severus?” Dumbledore asked in a chiding tone, and Severus couldn’t help but bark out a bemused laugh. Nonetheless he sat down, though his magic was still stirring wildly around the room.

“Of course, Headmaster.” He said with mock pleasantry.

“You will need to return to your duties as a spy for the Order.” Dumbledore said flatly, and Severus didn’t hesitate to shake his head vigorously in response.

“No.”

“No?” Albus’ face was contorted with his anger, but for the first time since the day Severus met the old man, he felt not a bit of fear.

“I believe that’s what I’ve said.” Severus replied coldly. Albus started to chuckle and run his fingers through his wiry grey hair.

“I don’t believe you’re in a position to deny me anything, Severus. Have you forgotten that it is I who kept you out of Azkaban? That it’s because of me alone that you even had a life to return to after so foolishly joining Voldemort in the first place?! I own you, Severus. As long as you are in MY Order, under MY protection, you WILL do as I say!” Albus thundered, standing on his feet once again. Molly Weasley was sobbing and trembling in Bill’s arms. Moody and Shakelbolt both had their wands drawn. Lupin and Black stood behind Severus like they were his two personal bodyguards. Severus huffed out a dry chuckle, that slowly built into hysterical laughter. Nobody else said a word, just swivelled their heads back and forth between the two men, watching them intensely.

“You do not own me, Albus.” Severus finally responded. Small sparks crackled off of him and his hair stood on end with the static electricity heavy in the air.

“I am done with this… all of it… I am nobody’s slave!” Severus bellowed as he raised his wand and a flash of lightning struck behind him. The Aurors pointed their wands at him in warning but Severus paid them no mind.

“DIFFINDO!” He cried, waving his wand furiously at his left arm, and the limb dropped off of his body and lay severed at his feet. Blood sloshed from the wound into a growing puddle on the floor. Molly cried out and reached for him, and Dumbledore looked absolutely dumbfounded. Angry and dumbfounded. Before anyone else had much time to react, with another wave of Severus’ wand, a solid silver prosthetic instantly grew from the stump.

Severus hadn’t even flinched from the pain. Adrenaline and fury coursed through his veins so aggressively that Severus couldn’t really feel much of anything at this point. He felt almost detached from reality, like he was dreaming. As if none of his actions had any true consequence. He had no ability, in that moment, to process the fact that he just amputated his own arm in a fit of rage. All that mattered to him was that the deed was done. There would be no way for Albus to force him back to the Dark Lord. A magical prosthetic would be much less favorable than having his own arm, certainly, but now he was truly free. Possibly free from both of his Masters, now, and the thought made him nearly breathless with relief.

Wordlessly and wandlessly, Severus vanished the arm and all of the blood, and looked around the room at the shocked expressions.

“Now, I think I’ve made myself very clear. If you don’t mind, I’m going to return to my child and retire for the evening, if that is all?” Severus said with his usual lazy drawl, and he didn’t give anyone the chance to reply before he marched to the fireplace and floo’d back to the infirmary.

He sat beside Harry for the entire night, unable to sleep, reflecting on all that was discussed at the meeting. Severus’ head ached and his thoughts swirled sickeningly as the events of the evening caught up to him. He felt mildly panicked at the loss of his limb. Now that he had gained his composure, and wasn’t so caught up in the heat of the moment, a part of him felt he may have acted too rashly.

He knew logically that he had been headed toward this action slowly but surely, and it had been at least a partial plan, or at the very least a back up plan, for some time now. But, now that the act had actually been done, it felt too real. Too permanent. He felt the loss more than he’d expected he might. He felt marred, and mutilated, and he felt stupid and weak for grieving the loss of this piece of himself so fiercely.

Severus was covered in scars, dozens and dozens of them. But this was the most egregious injury he’d ever experienced, and by his own doing no less. At the time that he cast the spell, he felt powerful. He felt for the first time in close to two decades that he was in control, and that he was taking back the reins of his life once and for all. Now in the darkness and the silence of the infirmary, alone with his punishing mind, he had never felt more defeated. He caressed the cold metal prosthetic and shuddered. It felt so foreign, and his stomach lurched once again as he struggled to accept the permanence of it all.

Chapter 19: Do You Want to Party?

Notes:

Here’s a fluffy chapter for you :)

(Harry)

Harry was officially losing his mind. Thanks to all of the pain killers and sedatives, he was physically feeling pretty great, and it was hard to remember that he was recovering from literally dying, and that recovering from something like that takes a long time. He was feeling incredibly stir crazy, however, and so much time spent alone, wasting away in bed, left him all too much time to overthink.

He still hadn’t dared look at himself in the mirror, yet. The way the nurses had to vigorously scrub and irrigate his wounds, plus all of the excessive bandaging made the injuries seem rather severe, and he was afraid of what he would see when he finally looked. Harry had never been vain, and his relatives had always made sure he knew just how much of an ugly freak they thought he was. But with his healing ability he’d never had so much as a scar or a blemish on his skin, apart from the infamous scar on his forehead. He knew the fissure through his face would definitely make him even uglier yet, and he was embarrassed to admit how badly that made him feel. Especially since he could really only blame himself.

Since he woke from the coma, the only visitors he’d had were his father, and various doctors and nurses. None of his friends, nor his godfather or Lupin. Severus had said they just wanted to give him a bit of time to recuperate, but Harry felt a bit abandoned. What if he’d finally done it and pushed everyone away once and for all? What if he was just too much for anyone to be bothered with, unless they absolutely had to be, like his father? If Severus wasn’t his father would they have ever gotten along? Probably not… and then Harry would have no visitors at all…

Dying, seeing his mother, and ressurecting had definitely given him a paradigm shift like never before. Harry had chosen, with much conviction, to live and to fight. However, despite the newfound will to live, his mental health was still absolute shite. He still had to force his occlumency shields up around the clock just to avoid drowning in depression. He still had nightmares about Cedric, and flashbacks to the ritual. He was still insecure, impulsive, angry, and afraid. He still struggled with urges to hurt himself, and he still longed for a double (or triple) dose of Dreamless Sleep.

Of course, he couldn’t voice any of that to anyone. The only person he really had to talk to anymore was Severus and he knew the man was barely hanging on by a thread himself. Severus had never been a cheerful person, as long as Harry had known him. But there were plenty of moments shared with the infamously dour potions Professor where the man had let loose and shared his crooked smile and goofy laugh.

But ever since his suicide attempt, Severus had been more miserable than ever. After he’d lost his arm, he’d been down right pitiful to be around. Harry tried to apologize nearly every time they spoke, but his father would wave him off and assure him he needn’t blame himself for anything, but that was easier said than done. Especially since Harry knew for a fact that everything most certainly was his fault this time around.

Harry decided the best way to make it up to Severus would be to just get better, so when Harry would start to spiral out of control he used that motivation to ground himself and keep trudging on.

“Harry dear, it’s time for lunch.” Madam Pomfrey broke him out of his brooding thoughts as she carried over to him a tray with a small bowl of beef stew and a chunk of crusty bread.

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.” He replied, giving her a small smile, which she returned happily.

“Of course, love.” She gathered together the solutions and bandages needed to clean his wound after eating and sat down on the chair beside his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, I guess.” Harry lied, shrugging noncommittally. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Now, now, none of that Harry. What’s the matter? Are you in pain?” She said, as she fluffed his pillow and fussed over him.

“I’m not in any pain… I just… does it look bad?” Harry asked her in a small voice, pointing at his face.

“Would you like a mirror? It’s not as bad as you’re probably thinking.”

She conjured a small hand mirror and handed it over to him. Harry felt ridiculous, but his heart rate quickened and he could feel his palms sweating as he forced himself to look. It was just a quick glance, but it was enough for him to forcefully shove the mirror away back into her hands.

The laceration extended from his hairline to his jaw, and it wasn’t particularly wide, but the skin there was still an angry purplish red, and it was currently in a very scabby stage in the healing process. The appearance of his eye was most startling, though. It was completely white without even a visible pupil, and no eyelid, so it was just perpetually open and unavoidable to look at.

“Harry, love, it’s really okay. You’re still just as handsome as ever, and the scar probably won’t be too bad once it’s had some time to heal. You’re really healing very nicely, much better than any of us anticipated.” She said kindly, but he had a pit in his stomach and the back of his neck prickled with anxiety. It was bad. It was worse than he’d personally thought it would be when imagining it. Especially his eye, it was quite frankly unsettling to look at. He thought about the state of his tentative friendships and suppressed a shudder. None of them had seen him yet, without his bandages anyway. Ron would probably start up with the insults again right away. Hermione would probably cry, and lecture him about how big of a mistake he’d made. Neville and Luna honestly probably wouldn’t mind, and might be supportive, he thought to himself and that did bring him some relief.

Draco, however, he was completely sure, would be another story. Draco had always kept up his appearances, he was a very handsome boy and he obviously took a lot of pride in making sure he looked his best at all times. He also knew that Draco struggled with his opinion of muggles. Being raised in a pure blood household had unfortunately taught him some prejudicial beliefs surrounding magic and people who had or didn’t have it. Although they had grown very close over the past couple of months, Harry doubted that Draco could look past both his facial scar and the fact that he’d lost his magic.

The thought of losing Draco because of all of this left an ache in his chest and made him feel like ice water flowed through his veins. He felt more regret in that moment for what he had done to himself than he’d felt at all during his recovery so far. As if Madam Pomfrey could read his mind, and sense the self-pitying spiral he was heading down, she vanished the mirror and got to tending to the wound.

“Harry, you have been through a very traumatic injury, and your body needs time to recover itself. I know that all of this is difficult, but Professor Snape and I have been working very hard to provide you the care you need to make a full recovery, love. A little scar isn’t much of a price to pay for your life.” She said reassuringly. And while Harry knew she was right, he still couldn’t help but sulk.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sure I’ll feel a lot better once I can get out of the hospital wing and move around a little bit.” Harry replied, and she ruffled his hair with a warm grin.

“Yes, yes, you should be able to leave here tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?!

It was an odd juxtaposition that while he felt completely imprisoned in the hospital wing and only moments ago had fantasized about leaving, the fact that he actually would be out of the safety and care of the infirmary within the next 24 hours spiked an uneasiness inside of him. Hogwarts used to feel so much like a home. Now, however, without any magic, still healing from his injuries, and with more than half of the student body and even some of the staff actively hating him and targeting him, he felt vulnerable. In that moment he longed for his father’s calm, grounding presence. The man was in the middle of class, he knew, and wouldn’t be back up here for the next few hours, but Harry hoped that through divine intervention somehow Severus would realize Harry needed him and come to the rescue once again.

“You do have a visitor, Harry. It’s up to you whether you feel comfortable enough to see anyone now, or if you would rather wait until tomorrow morning.” Madam Pomfrey said as she got ready to leave the room.

“I’ll see them.” Harry responded quietly, unsure of who it could be, but not really caring as he yearned for a distraction from his spiraling thoughts. He hadn’t had a real visitor since everything went down, and maybe, he thought to himself, seeing a friendly face and having a conversation with someone other than the depressing potions professor or the fussing healers and doctors would do him a bit of good.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in acknowledgment and waved her wand unlocking the infirmary doors. As she stepped out, Hermione walked in. She looked awful. Like she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. She had huge dark circles under her eyes and her hair was a frizzy mess. And yet, as she approached Harry’s bed, she gave him a beaming smile so bright that it almost hid her exhaustion completely.

“Hey, Mione.” Harry said, grinning widely himself. Hermione climbed up on the bed with him and sat cross legged at his feet, the smile never leaving her face.

“Harry, how are you? You look much better now than when I last saw you.” Hermione said softly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. Harry gave her a confused and slightly shocked expression.

“You think I look better now than before I killed myself?” He asked in disbelief, and she laughed and shook her head.

“No, I mean, when I visited you while you were in the coma. It was very scary, your entire head was bandaged and you had all of these tubes and wires coming out of it. I didn’t think you would ever wake up.”

“I didn’t know you visited me.” Harry said sheepishly.

“We all did. Ronald, Draco, Neville and that girl Luna. Ronald and Draco wouldn’t stop arguing and Professor Snape told us all to leave and not to come back until after you were awake. Then, Madam Pomfrey insisted you needed a bit more time to recuperate before you could handle too much stress so we’ve all stayed away for the sake of your peace. I’m so glad you’re being released tomorrow, Harry. I have missed you so much and have been so worried about you.” As Hermione spoke, tears started streaming down her face and Harry had to look away as a wave of guilt washed over him for putting his best friend through all of this.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m such an idiot, I made such a terrible mistake. I can’t imagine how you all must have felt. Can you forgive me?” Harry asked, fidgeting with his hospital gown, pulling on a loose string on the sleeve.

“Oh, Harry, don’t be daft! Of course I forgive you… I could never be angry at you, for that. If anyone should apologize it should be me. Maybe if I had been a better friend to you for all these years you wouldn’t have felt like that was your only way out.” Hermione's voice trembled as she spoke, but Harry vigorously shook his head, giving himself a mild headache in the process.

“No. Don’t do that, you can’t blame yourself for my stupid fuck ups. I’m blessed to have such a wonderful friend, as you.” Harry said fiercely, in a tone that left no room for doubt. Hermione gave him a small smile and a squeeze to the hand and caught him up on everything that had been going on around the castle since he’d been in the hospital.

Apparently Umbridge was now under investigation for her sadistic means of punishment. Several students had stepped forward and complained directly about her usage of the blood quill, enough that Dumbledore couldn’t ignore it any further.

Along with that, rumors surrounding Severus’ amputation were circulating around the castle. Some people said the potions master had an unlucky run-in with some of Hagrid’s pets. Some people said Voldemort took it as a punishment. Some theorized a potion mishap gone incredibly wrong.

“He was being tortured through the Dark Mark. Plus Dumbledore wanted him to go back to spying. Now he doesn’t have to.” Harry replied defensively. He knew Severus was struggling rather severely with accepting the loss of his limb. Harry wondered with much sadness if his father had heard all of the insensitive rumors himself and if it was making the ordeal that much worse to cope with.

“It’s still so strange to me how much your relationship with Professor Snape has changed this year. You know, he didn’t leave the infirmary the entire time you were comatose? He cancelled all of his classes those whole two weeks.” Hermione said, her expression pensive. Harry knew that she was brimming with curiosity, questions long unanswered as to the dramatic shift in his rapport with the infamously hateful professor. And yet, she respectfully held off on asking anything, as if she were just patiently waiting for Harry to open up on his own. It endeared him to no end.

“Hermione… I found out very recently that Professor Snape is my father,” Harry said tentatively, waiting for her to regain her composure after giving him an unbridled look of surprise, “he only found out earlier this year, and he was put under an enchantment that prevented him from telling me. Even now that I know, I doubt it would be wise for that to spread around… but you’re my best friend and I trust you with my whole heart, so I wanted to tell you.” After a moment, Hermione’s beaming smile returned, and she huffed out a pleased little laugh.

“Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that in a million years. That’s really wonderful, Harry, that you two found your way to each other after all this time. How do you feel about it?”

“I have mixed feelings, to be honest. Severus is great. He is literally the only adult that has ever really cared about me…. I mean in a real way. There are plenty of people who care, but since he’s been my guardian he has really stepped up in a way that I never dared hope that anyone would. He’s helped me through a lot, he had a really nice bedroom made for me in his quarters, he has apologized to me about everything and been incredibly patient dealing with all of my shit. However, I do kind of feel like my whole life has been a lie, you know? I always thought James Potter was my father, everyone constantly compares me to him, and to know that I’ve never been related to the guy is a mind fuck. Also I can’t help but feel a little resentful knowing that this whole time I’ve had a father waiting to love and care about me, if only he’d known. I would have never had to live with the Dursleys. My life would have been so much different, and I am jealous of the Harry that would have grown up being cared for.”

Harry was rather surprised at himself for how much he’d opened up to Hermione. Even during the few mind healer sessions he’d attended with Madam Pomfrey, he’d always had a difficult time articulating his conflicting thoughts and expressing himself. Talking to Hermione, however, was easy, he realized. She was like the big sister he never had. Sure, she was a bit of a know-it-all and sometimes couldn’t help herself from giving long lectures and advice that was never asked for. But she also was an attentive listener, and a problem solver who could always find a solution or a silver lining to every situation she’d ever encountered. Hermione was also one of the most empathetic and least judgmental people he’d ever met. He wished that he’d have had the sense to confide in her years ago.

“I think that is completely understandable, Harry. The way your relatives treated you was awful. You weren’t even allowed basic human necessities in that house. I can never tell you how sorry I am that you had to grow up that way, you never once deserved that kind of treatment. Nobody does. However, I think it’s a testament to your incredible resilience and strength that you survived all of that and turned out to be the wonderful person that you are, Harry. And now, you never have to see those monsters again. Now you have so many people who love you, and see how amazing you are. You have your father, and you have me and the Weasleys. You have Draco and Neville and Luna. Plus your godfather and Professor Lupin. You have a whole network of people who absolutely adore you and you will never be alone like that, ever again.”

Hermione’s words tugged directly on his heartstrings and Harry clumsily threw himself into her arms, crying on her shoulder and probably getting snot all in her hair. But she didn’t seem to mind, as she hugged him just as tightly and her tears were flowing just as freely.

“I love you, Hermione.” Harry said softly, his voice barely audible. Until now, he’d only ever said those words to his godfather and his dad. He used to say them all the time to Aunt Petunia when he was a very small child, until she ultimately yelled at him to stop. And then Sirius’ rejection over the summer made him hesitant to ever say them again. With Severus things were thankfully very different, and he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that his father loved him very much. Still, the words were foreign on his lips and he was very afraid of admitting those kinds of feelings in fear of being rejected or scolded yet again. Hermione however, ever the Saint she was, just tightened her hold on Harry and rubbed small circles down his back.

“I love you too, Harry. So, so, so much I do.” She sobbed in his ear. They clung to each other for a long time, and eventually they both laid back on the bed facing each other as they talked well into the night about so many things. Harry told her more about his life than he’d ever told anyone, and she listened to him bare his soul to her with a rapt attention like he was the only person in the entire world.

They talked about their dreams, and their fears. They talked about their deepest darkest secrets that they’d never shared with anyone. They laughed and cried together, and only after both of their eyes could hardly stay open any longer did Hermione bid him goodnight and retreat back to Gryffindor tower. That night, the dynamic between him and Hermione shifted into something so much more powerful than friendship, that Harry couldn’t even think of a word to describe it. He fell asleep with his heart feeling lighter than he ever remembered, forever thankful that the fates allowed him to cross paths with such a beautiful soul, as his best friend Hermione Jean Granger.

The next morning Hermione showed up again to escort him out of the hospital wing once Madam Pomfrey released him. Now that he was without magic, he would need protection walking through the school, even just to get back to Severus’ quarters. Hermione, however, seemed to have a different plan in mind.

“Harry… Do you want to party?” She asked with a cheeky grin. Harry, completely caught off guard by the question, barked out a laugh.

“What?” Harry chuckled, but when he realized that she was completely serious, couldn’t help but break out into a silly grin himself, “Hell yeah, I want to party.”

“Good. We already have everything all set up, and the others are waiting for us.” Hermione said. Harry couldn’t help the excitement he started feeling. It had been ages since he’d had any fun at all. He didn’t necessarily know who all of the “others” entailed, but Harry found he didn’t particularly care either.

Life had been a pretty sorry affair as of late, and the thought of just letting loose and having a good time was very enticing. Madam Pomfrey gave him the clear just after noon, and he and Hermione wasted no time at all getting out of there and making their way to the seventh floor. It was an unusual spark of extra good luck that they didn’t run into anyone on the way.

Harry recognized the Mysterious Room immediately, and was pleasantly surprised when they stepped inside and the room looked completely different from when Harry had hid there last term.

“What is this place?” Harry asked as he looked around the room, taking everything in with his full attention. What was once a space no larger than a cupboard, was now a large room that reminded him quite a bit of the Gryffindor common room, only it was decorated with muted earth tones of grey and brown rather than red and gold. There were three overstuffed sofas that looked so spongey that one might sink deep into the cushions and struggle to get back up once sat upon. Along with that there were about a half dozen cozy arm chairs, tables stacked with food and drinks of every sort, and fairy lights strung up all around, basking the room in a warm orangey glow. There was a small muggle boombox that had somehow been charmed to still play music despite the magic in the room that usually interfered with electricity. It was playing a mix of pop and classic rock music at a low volume that still allowed everyone to converse easily.

“This is the Room of Requirement, also known as the come-and-go-room,” Hermione explained, “it’s an ever changing room designed to provide whatever the occupants need.”

“We had the house-elves help us with the food and drinks.” Ron interjected, sounding tentative and shy. Harry noticed they were also joined by Draco, Neville and Luna. Harry was shocked and surprised that Ron and Draco could be in the same room without murdering each other, let alone plan and execute a party. Ron stepped forward and rubbed the back of his neck nervously as his cheeks and ears burned a bright red.

“Harry, I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting all year. I’ve been a fucking prat. All the things I’ve said about you were completely vile and uncalled for. When I thought… when I thought we lost you, I felt terrible that I hadn’t had the chance to patch things up with you. You’re my best mate, Harry, and if you could find a way to give me a second chance, I promise to do better in the future.” Ron said sheepishly. Harry gave him a warm smile and hugged him. Ron was his first ever friend, and he knew that while he had a wicked temper and a mean streak that could be unrivaled, Ron had a big heart, and Harry had always cherished their friendship.

“I forgive you, Ron. I hate fighting with you. When you said all of those things, I can’t even begin to tell you how much it hurt me. I just want to go back to being friends again. I hate all of this animosity between us.” Harry replied, and the other boy nodded fiercely in agreement.

“I hate it too. Friends?”

“Friends.”

Harry and Ron clapped each other amicably on the shoulder and Harry moved to plop into one of the arm chairs. Draco sauntered across the room and squeezed into the same armchair squished up right beside him, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder.

“I missed you.” Draco said quietly so that only Harry could hear. Harry gave him a warm smile and put his hand on Draco’s knee.

“I really missed you too.” Harry said in a voice that was almost a whisper, looking up into his icy grey eyes, meeting his piercing gaze.

“Promise me you won’t ever do that again?” Draco asked in a quiet tone that was almost pleading. Harry squeezed his knee and leaned closer to rest his head on Draco’s shoulder.

“I promise.”

Neville and Luna pulled Harry and Hermione into a very chaotic game of Exploding Snap while Draco and Ron versed each other in a legendary game of chess that might as well have been a professional match with how expertly the two boys played. Ron ultimately won, but Draco wasn’t bothered by that at all, in fact he seemed rather impressed.

“That was an excellent match, Weasley. I had no idea you were such a skilled strategist.” Draco said approvingly, causing Ron to flash him a bright smile, much to Harry’s surprise.

“Why thank you, Malfoy. You’re not half bad yourself. It’s a nightmare playing with this lot,” Ron said, pointing his thumb at Harry and Hermione, “it’s fun to have a real challenge against an equally talented player.”

“I am so proud of the good sportsmanship between you guys right now.” Harry chuckled, and Draco playfully shoved him, rolling his eyes, but flushing a bit and smiling slightly regardless.

“Oh, they’re no longer allowed to argue, Harry, didn’t you hear?” Interjected Neville, who was trying to stifle a cheeky grin twitching at the corner of his lips.

“Hermione made them take an Unbreakable Vow.” Luna said in a lofty voice, as she placed her hand over her mouth and giggled softly.

“What?!” Harry exclaimed in shock. Ron gave Harry an exaggerated scowl, and Draco chuckled dryly.

“Well, Harry, I refused to allow them to ruin our celebration with their bickering. I was quite cross to be banned from visiting you in the infirmary because of all of their constant fighting. So, when we decided to throw this party for you I had them take a vow not to fight, and ruin all of our fun!” Hermione defended herself, but Draco scoffed at her and shook his head more in amusement than anything else.

“Yeah, but don’t leave out the best part, Hermione!” Neville shouted.

“I may or may not have phrased the Vow in a way that prevents them from ever fighting again.” Hermione said with an evil smirk, and Harry laughed until it hurt.

Big mugs of butterbeer, fancy chalices of elf wine and shot glasses brimming with firewhiskey floated around the room as conversation came easily, and laughter and smiles came even easier. It wasn’t long before everyone had a healthy buzz going. Harry tried not to overindulge, since he was still recovering and didn’t want to overdo it… but he wasn’t a reckless Gryffindor for nothing.

“We should play truth or dare!” Luna said cheerfully, her cheeks a little red from the wine she was sipping.

“Yeah, that sounds fun, we can even make it a drinking game.” Ron added, grinning widely. Everyone nodded and agreed happily. They were all sat upon three arm chairs that were already positioned facing each other in a circle of sorts, Hermione sat next to Ron, Neville next to Luna and Harry next to Draco. Harry was trying to be good, so he stuck mainly to butterbeer, only having drank a teensy bit of the firewhiskey. Draco and Ron, however, went shot for shot, guzzling the stuff like they were dying of thirst or something, while Neville, Hermione and Luna nursed the heady wine.

“Okay Luna, you thought of it, so you should start. Truth or dare?” Hermione asked. Luna put her pointer finger on her chin and fixed her face into a quizzical expression.

“Dare.” She decided.

“Hmmm… I dare you to kiss Neville.” Hermione said smugly, and Neville’s face instantly turned red like a tomato and he looked like he might faint. Luna, however, didn’t miss a beat and pulled him into an unexpectedly passionate kiss. Ron wolf whistled at them and when the pair finally separated, Neville was grinning from ear to ear.

“Okay, Ron, truth or dare?” Luna asked, next.

“Dare.” Ron answered confidently.

“I dare you to fly a broom around the room upside down, backwards and blindfolded.” She challenged eagerly. Ron, who was more than a little tipsy by now, balked at her dare.

“Is that all?” Ron retorted sarcastically, shooting her a look of complete disbelief.

“With one hand behind your back.” She added, earning a laugh from everybody.

“I don’t have a broom!” Ron exclaimed, but no sooner did the words leave his mouth did the Room of Requirement provide for him a sleek Nimbus 2001. Hermione giggled and cast cushioning charms on the floor and looked at him expectantly. Ron gulped and looked a little panicked for a bit, but ultimately the whiskey and the infamous Gryffindor bravery kicked in and he accepted the dare, albeit rather begrudgingly.

Hermione conjured the blindfold and secured it over his eyes, double checking to make sure he really couldn’t see anything before he mounted the broom and flipped himself upside down. As he whizzed around the room flying backwards, everyone laughed and cheered him on. Only after he started sporting a nasty greenish complexion and threatened to sick up all over the place did he dismount, and everyone applauded him for his spectacular performance, and he rejoined Hermione on the arm chair.

“Okay, okay… Malfoy… truth or dare?” Ron asked after settling down.

“Truth.” Draco answered.

“Alright then. Why, all of the sudden, are you okay with fraternizing with us so called blood traitors and mudbloods?”

“RONALD!” Hermione shouted, but Draco didn’t look perturbed at all by the question, his face schooled into an expression of absolute calmness. Everyone was tensely silent, waiting to see if Draco would respond.

“D’you really wanna know?” He asked finally, his tone low and solemn, though his words slurred a little bit from the alcohol. Ron nodded seriously, giving Draco all of his attention, and waiting patiently for the answer.

“Over the summer, my father forced me to attend several Death Eater meetings that were hosted at the Manor. There was a boy locked in the dungeons, brought there by the Dark Lord himself. He was about our age, and they made him kill people all the time, for their entertainment, even though he hated doing it and it made him cry and throw up. One time they made him kill this pregnant lady, and I was there for it. I watched the whole thing, and it fucked me up, Weasley. It didn’t matter to me that she was just a muggle. She was a person, and I watched her bleed out right there. Right in front of me.

“Everyone was laughing, like it was the funniest thing in the world. Seeing my own father take such… fucking joy, watching something so horrible like that made me realize right then and there that I didn’t want to be anything like him. I didn’t want to share in his sick beliefs. I didn’t want to become those people just laughing perversely at something that inconceivably evil… Did that answer your question?” Draco didn’t have a hint of irritation or aggression in his tone, he just answered honestly in a nonchalant fashion as if he were just talking about the weather. But Harry knew the cold indifference was nothing more than a carefully constructed mask that hid sheer agony beneath it. Harry squeezed Draco’s knee in a show of comfort, and he gave him a small guarded smile in return. Nobody said anything for a while, as everyone quietly absorbed the traumatic story Draco had shared. Even the music coming from the boombox seemed to shift to exclusively depressing music for a bit there, until finally Draco sat up and gulped down the rest of his shot and continued the game.

“Harry, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Harry answered quickly, hating the dark turn the game had taken once someone had foolishly chosen ‘truth’. He knew he wouldn’t make that same mistake.

“I dare you to give us a hilarious karaoke show.”

Eager for the return of carefree joviality, Harry scanned the radio stations before stumbling upon an ABBA song, and performed it enthusiastically with much gusto. By the end of his song, Harry truly embodied his inner dancing Queen, and all of the tension was forgotten as everyone cracked up at the spectacle. Inspired by Harry’s theatrics, the game of truth or dare was quickly abandoned as everyone made an absolute arse of themselves taking turns obnoxiously singing and dancing for each other dramatically.

They carried on that way for hours, singing, dancing and heavily drinking. Harry’s initial plan to be responsible was long forgotten, and when the radio started playing songs that were slower and softer, the mood of the room shifted yet again. Everyone was completely drunk by now. Ron and Hermione were snogging shamelessly in the corner and Neville and Luna were shuffling lazily to the rhythm, whispering and giggling to each other quietly.

“Dance with me?” Draco asked Harry softly, his eyes smoldering and a blush of pink creeping up his neck onto his cheeks. Harry took his hand happily, as Draco led him a bit away from the others, and they pressed their bodies close to each other. Harry rested his hand on Draco’s waist, as the other boy placed both of his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

The song was low and melodic, and as they slowly swayed back and forth, they never took their eyes off of each other. Harry felt something stir inside of him as they danced, and despite the alcohol fogging his brain, he knew for sure in that moment with absolute clarity that he had feelings for Draco. The realization both scared him a little, and yet also flooded his system with such warmth and affection that it was hard not to just reach forward and press the other boy’s lips to his own.

Warmth turned quickly to ice, however, as Harry’s thoughts involuntarily started to spiral into a self-deprecating direction. Someone as so incredibly handsome as Draco would never want to be with someone as astronomically fucked up as Harry. He remembered the horror show he saw in the mirror earlier, and his heart dropped into his stomach like he’d missed a step going down the stairs. He was hit with a sudden wave of insecurity, and he wanted to pull away from his crush and run out the room and hide his ugly face away forever and ever, like the Phantom of the Opera, or something. The alcohol only exaggerated his growing sadness, and he started to feel the all too familiar prickle of tears stinging behind his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked softly, reaching out and wiping away a tear that Harry hadn’t been aware had spilled.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” Harry said, faking a smile and quickly wiping at his face. Draco furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“It’s not stupid, Harry. Tell me?”

“I’m ugly.” Harry confessed in a small voice, frustrated with himself as more tears fell treacherously. Draco widened his eyes, and then his expression softened as he leaned forward and placed a shy kiss right next to Harry’s injured eye.

“That’s nonsense. You don’t understand how gorgeous you are.” Draco said quietly, running his hands up and down Harry’s arms affectionately. Harry felt himself flush, and the butterflies infesting his stomach fluttered their wings furiously.

“I love your hair, it’s so dark and rich, and it looks so soft I want to run my fingers through it. You have such a beautiful facial structure, with elegant high cheekbones and the most adorable button nose, slightly upturned like a pixie. Your lips are pink and full. Your new scar, is so fucking hot. Makes you look like a warrior. It’s proof of your survival and your strength and your courage, right there for everyone to see. You’re far from ugly, Harry. You’re extremely handsome. So stop being fucking daft.”

Draco’s voice was rough, and his pupils were blown as he looked at Harry with an expression of undeniable attraction. Harry was a little overwhelmed with all of the praise. Draco’s words conflicted so extremely with Harry’s own views of himself that he found it a little hard to believe the other boy, but Harry couldn’t find any hint of a lie in Draco’s eyes. Harry didn’t say anything, the words were stuck in his throat, and his brain was fuzzy from all of the alcohol. He just laid his head against Draco’s chest and they continued dancing well into the night, even after all the others had passed out on the sofas and chairs around them. In that moment, it felt like he and Draco were the only two people left in the world, and Harry wished their dance would never end.

Notes:

Hey everyone, thanks so much for continuing reading my story! I’m in the last quarter of the story where I’ve written up to, and I’m in the midst of writing a few other stories that will also be HP fics. I have up to 5 chapters written for 2 other stories and 1 chapter written for another story, and all three have a solid idea/outline. I plan on dedicating most of my attention to this story until it’s finished, but I’m considering starting uploading a whole new work soon if anyone would be interested in checking that out too, I would very much appreciate it! As always, let me know what you think!

Chapter 20: Battle at the Ministry

Notes:

Tw: character deaths

(Dudley)

Pain was all he felt. Darkness was all he knew. Fear was bitter on his tongue, and tight in his chest, like the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles. The restriction of any movement was the worst part. Dudley’s skin burned and sizzled from the overflow of magic slowly oozing its way out of him. He was covered in blisters and peeling scabs across every inch of his flesh. He wanted so desperately to scratch, to satisfy the nagging persistent itch from his irritated wounds.

He was fully blind now, and though he could still hear, there was a constant buzzing in his ears that mostly drowned out every other noise. The Obscurus inside of him gorged itself greedily on his excess of magic, slowly destroying his body as it fed. Not much was understood about the Obscurus, other than the fact that it is a parasite that feeds on the magical core of its host, as the subject was considered rather taboo. Lord Voldemort had explained, however, that it was precisely this condition that brought Dudley into the Dark Lord’s clutches, and was currently leading to the downfall of The Boy Who Lived. The absorption of Harry’s magic into his own created a well of power inside of him the likes of which wizard-kind had never before known.

Ordinarily, one wizard could never steal the magic from another. It was a feat that was thought to be impossible. Many had attempted to accomplish it throughout history, and yet all had failed.

It was with the exploitation of Dudley’s Obscurus, along with your average run of the mill blood magic, a little bit of arithmancy and some creative ingenuity that Voldemort was able to design and conduct the ritual, and achieved the impossible that others before him had only ever dared dream about. He was able to transfer every drop of The Chosen One’s magic into his own personal weapon.

The human body was not built to withstand the sheer power of two magical cores, let alone an unstable and overcharged Obscurus. So, poor Dudley was suffering, and Lord Voldemort would soon enough lose his little play thing, but not before causing as much devastation to the side of the Light as possible.

At this stage of his deterioration, Dudley was little more than a husk. The Dark Lord had succeeded in claiming Dudley’s body, mind and soul as his own to do with whatever he pleased. In the few fleeting moments he had of lucidity every now and then, Dudley only wished for the end he was promised soon would come.

*******

(Harry)

It was just before sunrise when Harry and his friends left the Room of Requirement, with tipsy goodnight wishes whispered to each other as they parted ways in the corridor. Draco walked Harry to Severus’ quarters, holding his hand the whole way. Severus, thankfully, was long since asleep, and Harry was able to sneak into his room unnoticed, where he promptly passed out and had arguably the best sleep of his entire life.

When he finally woke the following morning, his head was pounding, whether it be from the after effects of the alcohol or because of the brain injury he didn’t know, but he was definitely missing his morphine drip now more than ever.

He took a few minutes to come alive before grabbing a change of clothes from his trunk and gingerly stepping foot into the shower. It had been literally weeks since he had the luxury of taking a hot shower on his own. The steaming water felt sharp, like tiny needles pelting his skin. Like acupuncture. He let the hot water wash over him for what felt like hours before he finally finished, with his fingers and toes wrinkled like prunes.

He went to the kitchen, and he was a little surprised to note that Severus wasn’t there. Apart from the party yesterday, he hadn’t really been allowed out of his father’s sight in quite some time. What was even more odd, however, was the fact that there was no breakfast waiting under stasis, nor was his father’s house-elf Mipsy there to keep an eye on him. He checked the time and it was well after noon, and his father didn’t have class, since it was the weekend. Harry found himself lost in his thoughts, getting ready to prepare himself some eggs and toast, when he heard the tell-tale sound of the floo roaring to life.

“Dad?” He called out, fiddling around with the pots and pans in the cupboard. When he didn’t get a response Harry turned around, surprised to see the Headmaster standing there with his arms folded across his chest, and a somber look on his face.

“Professor?” Harry inclined his head toward the old wizard, and Dumbledore returned the gesture and sat himself at the kitchen table.

“Good afternoon, Harry. How are you feeling? You’re looking quite well.” Dumbledore said, his tone sounding light and friendly enough, but something about him was off and gave Harry an unsettling feeling.

“I’m feeling fine, thank you… so, uh, is there something I can do for you, sir? Or were you waiting for… Professor Snape?” Harry stammered out. He was feeling incredibly anxious. Like every part of his mind, body and soul was screaming for him to run away from the man and hide, though Harry couldn’t for the life of him think of why.

“Your father will not be joining us,” Dumbledore said quietly, staring piercingly into Harry’s eyes, “and yes, in fact, there is something you can do for me, my boy.” Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and goose flesh spread across his arms.

“What?” Harry asked rather ineloquently, his voice rough and slightly too high pitched from his anxiety.

“Harry, I am just going to come right out and say it... I need you to do something for me, that very well might win us this war.” Dumbledore’s expression was deadly serious, with none of that familiar twinkle shining in his pale blue eyes to be found. Dumbledore looked dangerous, like a warlord. His magic rumbled around him as he spoke.

“I need you to come with me to the Ministry, and retrieve for me the prophecy concerning yourself and Voldemort. He has been trying for a long time now to get his hands on it, and I fear it’s only a matter of time before he succeeds. We cannot let him hear that prophecy, Harry, that is of utmost importance. If you’re agreeable, we will leave at once.”

Harry felt frozen on the spot, and his heart was beating against his ribs so hard that he was sure Dumbledore could hear it.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think that would be a very good idea… I can’t even do magic anymore, how would I protect myself?” Harry asked quietly, and for just a brief moment, that twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye shined brightly, and then quickly faded out once again.

“I will protect you, my boy, don’t you worry about that. I don’t wish to sound arrogant, but I’m known to be a rather powerful wizard. Voldemort himself couldn’t defeat me in a proper duel. I will be right beside you, and ensure that nothing happens to you. We will simply walk into the Department of Mysteries, retrieve the prophecy, and be out of there within fifteen minutes, and not a soul will touch you in the interim. How does that sound?”

To anyone not fine tuned to the subtle intricacies of Dumbledore’s manipulative nature, the request might seem reasonable if not a complete walk in the park. But Harry could hear the fine print in between the man’s words. It appeared that they would be going alone, which was not a great plan seeing as though the last Harry knew, the Ministry was crawling with Death Eaters. His father must not know, otherwise he would be here putting a stop to all of this immediately, and that was a red flag by itself. Where the hell is Severus? Harry thought to himself, realizing he hadn’t seen the man in well over 24 hours.

“Where is my dad?” Harry asked, and he hated how small and scared his voice sounded.

“We must not waste precious time, my boy. Your father can come back once we return.” Dumbledore answered. Harry’s heart sank in his chest. He didn’t miss the peculiar phrasing of Dumbledore’s response, and he was suddenly very worried about his father’s safety. Was that a threat? Was Dumbledore keeping him somewhere? His eyes darted wildly around the room, subconsciously looking for an exit, but there was none that Dumbledore couldn’t simply follow him through.

“This is a terrible idea and I’m not going to do it.” Harry finally stuttered out, trying to put as much conviction into his words as he could, but he was scared and powerless, and both of them knew it.

“I thought you might be trouble, just like your father, but I foolishly hoped that you could see reason… no matter, Harry. There are many ways in which we could do this.” Dumbledore said cryptically, rising to his feet. When he raised his wand and pointed it at him, Harry didn’t hesitate to try and scramble away, running as fast as he could toward the door, but it was useless.

“IMPERIO!” Dumbledore shouted, and suddenly, Harry found that he couldn’t be more eager to comply.

*******

(Severus)

Two Days Prior

Severus was tired, to say the least. He felt like the entirety of the last two decades of pain and exhaustion had been all condensed into the last month, and at this point he was barely hanging on by the skin of his crooked teeth. Keeping to his routine helped, if only a little. That’s why he found himself bottling up seven vials of freshly brewed Wolfsbane, and flooing over to Grimmauld Place to deliver them to Lupin. With the way he and Black had been acting for the last six months especially, Severus had half a mind to let the wolf suffer unaided, but the potion was exceptionally costly to brew, and he hated unnecessary wastefulness.

When he stepped through the fireplace, he was a little caught off guard to see that Lupin and Black were already sitting in the parlour, as if they’d been waiting for him, though Severus had not informed them he would be coming.

“Snape.” Lupin greeted him, inclining his head politely, and Black also gave a curt nod in his direction, both of which Severus ignored.

“I’ve come to bring you your Wolfsbane.” Severus said tightly, and with the beaming smile Lupin gave him, you would have thought Severus had delivered him a brick of solid gold.

“Thank you so much, Severus. How kind of you.” Lupin responded, taking the vials of potion from him. Severus rolled his eyes and brushed Lupin’s thanks away irritatedly with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing of it, Lupin. I know how many children frequent this dump, my son included. It would be irresponsible to allow a murderous wolf to rampage through here wholly untamed.” Severus drawled, but Lupin ignored the insult completely, which annoyed him even further.

“Snape, there’s something we wanted to discuss with you, before you go…” Black said quietly, the usual disdain he had in his voice while addressing Severus nowhere to be found.

“What is it, mutt?” Severus asked, his tone biting. He could admit, if just to himself, that their sudden friendliness rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps, just a little, he was trying to get a reaction out of them by being rude and insulting.

“We want a truce, and an alliance.” Lupin answered for him, and Severus couldn’t help the dumbstruck expression he gave them.

“Why?” Severus found himself asking, and the pair sported equal expressions of shared amusement.

“To be honest with you Severus, we’re both very ashamed of our behavior towards you and your son. We have a lifetime of mistakes we have made with you that we may never be able to truly make up for, but it’s not too late to make things right with Harry.” Lupin replied, and his tone was soft and just a bit wistful.

“Everything got put in perspective for me when I thought we lost him for real this time,” Black said quietly, fidgeting with his fingers and staring down at the ground in front of him, seemingly unable to meet Severus’ gaze, “I have been awful to him. And when I thought… when I thought I’d never have the chance to make amends, it killed me. I realized then and there how precious and fragile life is. I love Harry, with every fiber of my being, and yet I’ve done him so wrong. I can’t let this animosity between us continue to fester. And same goes for you Sna—Severus. I want to put all of the petty bullshit behind us. I don’t expect you to accept an apology from me, nor your forgiveness, but I do genuinely apologize all the same.”

Severus just stood there for several long minutes not saying anything. These two men had caused him so much pain and hardship. More than they could ever fathom. There was a time, in his childhood, where Severus laid awake at night fantasizing about receiving this apology. Praying to whatever Gods or Goddesses that would listen for their repentance.

Severus had been abused, neglected and ultimately abandoned by his parents, which started the sparks of hate that burned ever wild in his heart. His life at school was made a nightmare by the Marauders, and all that did was fan the flames. But now, Severus was tired. His chest literally ached with the heaviness of the hatred he carried with him, and he wanted more than anything to just let it go. He had a child who needed him, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, Harry had softened something inside of him, and holding onto the hurt now only damaged him further.

Could it be that simple? Could he truly let it go, and move on from that painful chapter of his life once and for all? He looked at Lupin, and then at Black, taking in both men like he never had before. They were all so much older now, completely different men than they were boys…

“I accept your apology. I cannot speak for Harry, you will have to explain yourselves to him and make it up to him somehow on your own. As for myself, I will admit that holding onto this foolish grudge can only do more harm than good. Also, Harry deserves to have people in his life who we can both trust, so I will also accept your request for my alliance.” The words were much less painful than Severus had anticipated. Lupin looked like he just won the lottery, and Black sported a shit eating grin that Severus begrudgingly found to be a bit contagious, as a reluctant smile crept up on his lips as well.

“That’s really good, Severus. I for one am really looking forward to stepping into this new chapter for all of us.” Lupin said happily, and Black nodded politely.

“We’re gonna need each other, surely. That alliance we mentioned isn’t just sweet talk. Dumbledore has been off his rocker…. He’s been poking around here more and more frequently, he brought up the prophecy again when it was just me and him here, and it’s all been rubbing me the wrong way.” Black lamented, and Severus couldn’t help but feel chilled by his sentiment. Severus hadn’t spoken to or about that madman since that last dreaded Order meeting, and if it were up to him, Dumbledore would simply be wiped from existence and they would all live happily ever after.

“He is dangerous. I don’t want him anywhere near Harry, he most certainly cannot be trusted.” Severus replied, and both men nodded in agreement.

They all sat around and chatted about less serious topics for a while, and Severus was rather shocked at how pleasantly they were able to converse. Nobody said one biting insult or unnecessary criticism, and it was refreshing. After a few hours, Severus stood and walked back towards the fireplace.

“I must get back to Hogwarts. Harry is being released from the infirmary in the morning… I thank you both for a lovely evening.” Severus said as he tossed in a handful of the floo powder, but much to his confusion, the tell-tale green flames never roared to life. The floo was blocked. Lupin and Black looked at each other in confusion, while Severus made his way to the front door with a sinking feeling in his chest.

“What the ever loving fuck is going on?” Severus swore angrily as every spell he could think of to try and unlock the door failed. He waved his wand and detected several strong wards had been placed on the building, and they would not be leaving any time soon very easily.

Severus, Black and Lupin spent hours trying every door and window in the place, to no avail. Not a single spell in their combined arsenals were enough to break through the complex spellwork. They were trapped. Panic rose up from Severus’ stomach into his throat like a ball of fire. The sun began to shine through the windows, streaming in with its golden yellow rays, highlighting the dust motes hovering thickly in the air. Harry would wake soon, and be at the mercy of the whole castle once released from the hospital wing.

“Has to be Dumbledore.” Black muttered mostly to himself, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t think that sounds a little paranoid?” Lupin asked, his tone only slightly chiding.

“Not at all Moony. Other than myself he’s the only one keyed to the wards here. Anyone else, it would have taken days to cast that kind of warding and Snape would have never been able to come through the floo in the first place. He must have done something to remove my authority from the magic of the House, I can’t get it to abide by me no matter what I do.”

Lupin visibly paled, as Black’s words sunk in and he realized how well and truly fucked they all were if Albus Dumbledore himself had decided to make an enemy out of them.

Dumbledore. Dumbledick, as Harry liked to call him…. Severus was sure that lunatic had trapped them here to get to Harry, and that implication sent icy shivers rolling down his spine.

Severus let out a long suffering sigh and pulled an athame from its holster hidden beneath his robes. The blade had become all too familiar in his hand, with his increasing need for blood magic as of late. He dreaded what the consequence of this may be, when he dragged the blade across his palm and began chanting strings of Latin while he smeared the blood in a circle around him.

He focused his intent on breaking the wards, and finding his son. He knew it would be much more difficult this time around, due to Harry’s loss of his magical core, but Severus wouldn’t be deterred. Even if he had to drain every drop of blood in his body dry, he would get to Harry if it was the last thing he did.

*******

(Harry)

Harry felt blissful. He had never once experienced such a lofty floatiness. Not even when he was drunk. Not even when he’d smoked pot that one time with Seamus back in third year. He felt completely detached from his body, as if he were just a soul floating happily in the cosmos while he watched his body move like a puppet, with Dumbledore pulling the strings.

Dumbledore apparated them to the Ministry, and they walked in silence through winding corridors, down speeding elevators, and through many heavy oak doors. He didn’t even panic once he’d recognized the corridors from his vision of Arthur Weasley’s death. He just felt serene, and full of purpose as he carried out Dumbledore’s command in heavenly submission.

Soon enough he found himself amongst rows and rows of shelves that extended high up toward the ceiling beyond his line of vision. These shelves were stacked full with glowing orbs full of swirling blue smoke. Dumbledore led him to a spot on the shelf baring Harry’s and Voldemort’s names, and he ordered Harry to take the orb.

Reaching out and grabbing the prophecy for Dumbledore was the single proudest accomplishment of Harry’s life. To execute the command so perfectly pleased Harry in a way that nothing else ever had. There was nothing that Harry wanted more than to grant the man’s every wish. Entertain his every whim. Dumbledore said it was time to follow him and leave, and Harry of course did so in earnest.

They just reached the lifts when Harry felt a buzz of magic whiz past his head, as a spell just narrowly avoided hitting him by the breadth of a hair. Dumbledore turned around and flung Harry protectively behind him with an agility befitting of a much younger man than the ancient wizard ought to be capable of.

Harry knew he should be afraid, but he wasn’t. All he felt was an eager anticipation to follow his next command. The room was absolutely teeming with Death Eaters, at least a dozen of them, and while Harry knew that it was just he and Dumbledore against them all, he still couldn’t find it in himself to be fearful.

Harry watched disinterestedly as Dumbledore fought off attack after attack, as hexes and jinxes came at him from every direction. If not for the powerful shield charm Dumbledore had cast over him, he surely would have been caught in the crossfire and killed by now.

“HARRY, DROP THE ORB!” Dumbledore bellowed as he viciously dueled a group of Death Eaters five to one, and the others circled in like vultures ready to scavenge the remains.

Without hesitation, Harry smashed the prophecy at his feet, releasing the noxious blue smoke to dissipate uselessly into thin air.

“NO!” He heard a woman shriek, along with pained cries and angry shouts from the others. Harry felt a deep satisfaction at having destroyed the orb so quickly and perfectly. He knew Dumbledore would be so pleased with him.

A sickeningly loud CRACK interrupted everything and all fell silent as Voldemort stormed into the room with a very sick looking Dudley being dragged behind him by a leash. Dudley was breathing very laboriously, and he was visibly shaking. He smelled absolutely putrid, even though he was a good distance away from Harry. His eyes were completely bloodshot and his skin was sloughing off in big sheets of dead bloodied flesh. Even despite his peaceful state of serenity, Harry couldn’t help but shudder at the sorry state of his cousin.

Voldemort followed Harry’s glossed over gaze to Dudley and flashed him a hideous toothy smile. Dumbledore was far too busy fighting off the Death Eaters, who attacked him ruthlessly, even as he sent a powerful wave of fiendfyre at them all. This seemed to slow them down considerably, however.

“Slave!” Voldemort barked, and Dudley instantly raised from all fours to his feet, which looked like it took great effort. “You know what to do!” Dudley pointed his index finger, and Voldemort twisted his arm until his finger was directed right at Dumbledore. “NOW!”

“Stupefy!” Dudley shouted, and a powerful beam of red light shot out of Dudley’s hand and hit the ancient wizard square in the chest. In any normal circumstance, a simple Stupefy would be inconsequential for the likes of Albus Dumbledore. The man was so powerful, he could throw off most mild curses and hexes cast at his person within seconds. This, however, was by far the most overcharged Stupefy that Harry had ever seen, and Dumbledore’s unconscious body, while still breathing, was literally steaming from the hot intensity of Dudley’s volatile magic.

When Dumbledore hit the floor, Harry was released from the Imperious curse, and fear flooded his system, rushing in like a burst dam. The sharp contrast from the mindless bliss he had been feeling to the crushing terror and helplessness he felt now was overwhelming, and Harry couldn’t help but let out a choked sob that Voldemort found incredibly amusing. Since the ritual, Harry’s dread of the Dark Lord had grown to new heights. The snake-like man was featured in his every nightmare. When he laid awake at night, paralyzed in horror gripped in the throes of flashbacks of that awful night, Harry could still feel Voldemort’s hands on his throat. Could still feel him pounding inside of him.

Harry’s panic was interrupted by the sound of Dudley retching and wailing in the corner behind Voldemort. Blood was trickling from Dudley’s eyes and nose as he vomited dark black coagulated fluid all over the floor again and again, before he toppled over in a whimpering heap.

“Yes, rest now, slave. Your work is done.” Voldemort cooed as he knelt down and patted Dudley lovingly on the head. As if he had only been waiting for permission, Dudley ceased the whimpering and his convulsions stilled. He was dying, if not dead already.

Not that Harry ever had much love for Dudley, and not that he even considered him a friendly face amongst the Death Eaters… but losing Dudley meant Harry was now completely alone, save for people who yearned to torture and kill him. He was absolutely terrified like never before. He knew they were going to kill him. And of course they would, right when he had finally recovered some semblance of a will to live.

Voldemort sauntered across the room to one of his followers and viciously smacked the mask right off of his face. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy, who knelt down on the floor in absolute submission, kissing the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes.

“Please forgive me my Lord,” Lucius groveled in a low simpering voice, peppering kisses on the Dark Lord’s robes and feet in between his words. The sight was sickening. Voldemort kicked at Lucius’ face with a bare scaly foot.

“You disappoint me, Lucius. I trusted you with the simple task of retrieving for me the prophecy. Explain to me how exactly you failed so miserably? With a team of a dozen men behind you, how could you not subdue one- ONE- wizard, and a child with no magic?! Are you truly so incompetent?! Was I a fool to expect so much from you, Lord Malfoy?” Voldemort pressed his foot into Lucius cheek, crushing his face against the floor as the man furiously shook his head in disagreement with the Dark Lord’s words.

“No, my Lord! Please allow me to redeem myself. I am your most faithful servant, I will do anything in my power to regain your favor, my one true Lord! My Master!” Lucius cried pathetically. Voldemort laughed at him coldly.

“Really, Lucius? Anything in your power?” Voldemort cooed, and from beneath his foot Lucius tried desperately to nod his head. Voldemort spat in his face.

“You have no power.” The Dark Lord hissed furiously, and Lucius sobbed.

Suddenly, the doors to the atrium opened and in walked two Death Eaters escorting a very beaten and bloodied Narcissa Malfoy, followed much to Harry’s horror by a kicking and screaming Draco.

“GET OFF OF ME! DON’T TOUCH MY MOTHER, YOU FUCK-“ Draco’s shouting was instantly silenced by a wave of Voldemort’s bony hand. Lucius didn’t dare look up from the floor where he was still being firmly held in place, but if it were at all possible, his cries grew more pitiful yet.

“You will be punished, Lucius. Gravely, for your egregious failure today. You say you will do anything in your power to gain my favor? Let us start with wiping the Earth clean from your bloodline. You and your family are nothing but disgusting, disappointing failures. You’re all a disgrace. Dispose of your whore and your heir, and I may consider sparing you your miserable life.” Voldemort demanded, as he stepped away from Lucius and tossed the man’s wand at him ferociously.

Harry’s heart stilled in his chest. He whipped his head to lock eyes with Draco, who was still thrashing and screaming, though his words were silent. No, no, no, NO! This could not be happening, Harry thought to himself. He was shaking and sobbing openly by now, and yet nobody looked once in his direction. As if he weren’t even there. Voldemort’s full attention was on Lucius, Draco was looking wildly between both of his parents. The other Death Eaters were masked, with their heads dutifully facing the floor subserviently, as none of them were given express permission to watch.

“Start with her.” Voldemort said, pointing his long skeletal finger to Narcissa, who had her eyes forcefully closed shut as she huddled in on herself and cried softly.

Lucius stood on his feet and raised his wand with a steady hand, looking at his wife with nothing but cold resignation.

“Yes my Lord. Anything for you, my Lord,” Lucius said quietly as he hit Narcissa with the killing curse. She fell to the ground with a sickening thud, and Draco wailed in silent anguish. His face was red and tear streaked and his mouth was gaped open in a furious scream. He was desperately shaking his head and mouthing useless pleas to his father, who was blinded to his son’s suffering.

As Lucius raised his wand to Draco, ready to snuff out his child the way he had just so easily done with his wife, something inside of Harry sparked to life. A fire began burning in his chest that had been long extinguished for months. Harry could not let Draco die. He would not allow it. He pulled on that spark, that flame deep inside of him, and he willed all of his power into it. His entire soul. Every molecule in his being, he focused on strengthening and nurturing that tiny ember of magic left in him that Voldemort had tried so vigorously to steal.

Just as the killing curse left Lucius lips, and that sickening green beam of light shot out of his wand at lightning speed, a surge of blinding golden light exploded out of Harry, and enveloped Draco in a cocoon of pure, primal and powerful magic. The killing curse ricocheted off of him, with a sound like the crack of a whip, and came back at Lucius full force, knocking him to the ground, dead instantly.

Just then, several things happened all at once. Dudley’s heart beat for the last time, and his stupefy was broken, allowing Dumbledore to spring to his feet once again. Harry scrambled over to Draco, sobbing and checking the boy over desperately to assure himself he still lived. The atrium rumbled with a rapturous explosion of magic, as Severus, Sirius and Remus dropped into the room directly beside Harry. Dumbledore cast curse after curse at Voldemort.

As Sirius and Remus went to Dumbledore’s aid, sending jinxes and hexes every which way to the surrounding Death Eaters, Severus gathered Harry and Draco into his arms, and apparated them away to safety.

*******

(Sirius)

Watching Snape so casually perform blood magic right there in his living room brought Sirius back to the days of his childhood, where he would be forced to watch his mother and father dabble in similar rituals, albeit for much more nefarious reasons. It was triggering, and he could admit that it didn’t sit right with him, but he knew there was nothing he could say that would stop Snape from doing anything and everything to get back to Harry.

It took hours. Hours of listening to Snape’s low melodic drawl, chanting words of Latin that Sirius could only barely distinguish. Hours of watching the man smear blood all over his floor. Hours of sitting and waiting, fearing what could possibly be happening while they were all trapped there helplessly.

Sirius had just about run out of patience and was well on his way to cursing out Snivellous and suggesting they try something else when he could feel the hum of the House’s magic recognize him once again. Within seconds, the wards that Dumbledore had placed to keep them there were dropped, and Snape aggressively pulled Sirius and Remus into his ritual circle.

“We’ve no time to waste, he is at the Ministry!” Snape shouted and suddenly they were pulled by an invisible force up, up, and away. It didn’t feel like apparition, and it didn’t feel like a portkey. It felt more like something he had seen once on the telly during muggle studies. An episode of a show called X-Files, where a man was abducted by aliens, and he was pulled up into a UFO by a beam of light, whisked away to somewhere in outer space.

Only, before he could even begin to contemplate it, they were dropped rather unceremoniously right into a battle. He watched for the briefest moment as Snape snatched up Harry and the Malfoy kid and quickly apparated away. Sirius looked about wildly, and saw Dumbledore was being overwhelmed by a dozen or so Death Eaters sending spell after spell right at him.

Remus darted forward with no hesitation to help the man, and Sirius followed suit. He didn’t care about aiding Dumbledore, the madman who had gotten them all into this mess. But Remus needed him.

Curses were volleyed back and forth at a dizzying speed. Unforgivables shouted out shamelessly from both parties, as everyone in the room aimed to kill. With Harry out of the way, Dumbledore no longer held back, not even with the fiendfyre he sent flying.

Of course, Sirius was a little afraid. But really, he was in his element. Being trapped at Grimmauld Place for the last 24 hours was nothing in comparison to the years he’d been held prisoner there to avoid going back to Azkaban. He had laid awake and yearned for something like this. A true battle, magic streaming violently past his head while he expertly dodged out of the way, and sent his own curses flying into their targets without a hitch.

He found himself smiling ruefully and barking out a mad laugh, caught up in the thrill of dueling two Death Eaters at once when he was distracted by his cousin Bella’s evil cackles reverberating around the atrium.

Sirius turned his head in her direction, and felt all of his blood run cold as Remus fell. The glow of green light still hovering over his body as he crumpled to the floor with no life left in his eyes.

“REMUS, NO!” Sirius shouted, but he knew it was too late. His best friend, the love of his life, was gone.

In his anguish, Sirius had dropped his wand. Just as the circle of Death Eaters began laughing and crowding in on him, ready to steal his life away like they had just done to Remus, Sirius felt the ancient wrinkled hands of Dumbledore drag him away, and the all too familiar crushing pull of apparition sent him back to the prison of Grimmauld Place once more.

Chapter 21: Little Moments

(Sirius)

“I wish you didn’t have to go back there, Padfoot…” Remus said softly, while Peter nodded solemnly in agreement and James folded his arms across his chest in frustration.

“The thing is, he DOESN’T have to go back! I’ve told you dozens of times, Siri, my parents would gladly take you in.” James shouted indignantly. Only when he saw a few heads turn quizzically in their direction did he lower his voice. It was the last day of their fourth year, in the morning they would all be boarding the Hogwarts Express and leaving the castle for the summer. Despite the warm weather, Sirius felt cold all over, radiating from the inside out.

“I can’t leave Reggie, guys. You wouldn’t understand because none of you have brothers, but I can’t just fucking leave him. He’s not… strong, like us.” Sirius lamented, putting his head on the desk miserably.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Padfoot. We do know what it’s like to have brothers, cause that’s exactly what the four of us have always been to each other.” Peter said sweetly, with a shy smile. Sirius reached across the table and grabbed Peter’s hand and gave it a squeeze, while muttering a quiet but heartfelt thanks.

“Reg could come too, there are like, literally, thirty bedrooms in the Manor.” James retorted, still clearly agitated .

“You know he would never sod off on his lordly duties, Jamie. They have him so tightly under their fingers, it’s a miracle they haven’t threatened him to stop talking to me all together yet,” Sirius said forlornly, “if they knew I was plotting on kidnapping their precious heir, they probably would.”

“Well, then, at the very least you have to agree to visit me a few times. So I know you’re okay.” James demanded, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically, and Sirius agreed easily.

“Of course, Prongs! You know I want to be with you guys all the time.” Sirius whined, and sensing his growing upset with the topic, thankfully James changed the subject, and went into a lengthy rambling about the shadiness of the Slytherin quidditch team and how stoked he was to annihilate them next year.

Under the table, Remus put a warm hand on Sirius’ knee, and Sirius quickly covered his best friend’s hand with his own. They sat like that for a long time, listening to James’ ranting and raving, and despite the dread for the summer, Sirius found himself feeling completely happy in that moment. When they realized how close they were cutting it to curfew, the four boys packed away all of their belongings, getting ready for the brisk jog back to the tower. Remus held Sirius back from the others, and gazed warmly into his eyes.

“For the record, Siri… what I feel for you, I wouldn’t call it ‘brotherly’.” Remus said quietly, his voice low and thick with affection. His amber eyes glowed fiercely with a fire burning behind them, and Sirius’ breath caught in his chest. As suddenly as this little moment between them started, however, it was over and Remus bolted for the door, following the others without another word.

*******

“Please, Moony! I’m sorry!! From the bottom of my heart, I am!” Sirius cried, tears and snot streaming down his face. He knew he looked like a pathetic mess, but he didn’t care. It had been weeks since he pulled that stupid prank on Snivellous, and Remus hadn’t spoken to him since. The distance between them was killing him. Remus was his best friend on Earth. He was able to ground Sirius from his darkest thoughts like nobody else, and he brought a warmth to his life that he had so sorely missed since he’d been without it.

“I’ve already accepted your apology, Sirius. I don’t know what you honestly expect from me.” Remus responded coldly. He looked exhausted, and sad, and knowing that it was all because of Sirius’ own actions broke his heart all over again.

“Please, I just want to go back to how things used to be! You’re my best friend, Remi! I need you, I need to know you forgive me… I need to know we are okay.” Sirius pleaded, and the look Remus gave him was so full of disdain that Sirius flinched.

“But we’re not okay, Sirius. I trusted you with my deepest darkest secret and you betrayed me. Because of your idiotic idea of a prank, I almost killed a person. Don’t you understand how severe that is? I get that you don’t like Snape, but he’s still a person! He’s just a fucking kid, for Merlin’s sake, and you almost made me kill him! How could I have lived with myself after that? Do you not understand that that is my biggest fear? That I will lose control one of these times and fucking KILL SOMEONE?!” Remus bellowed furiously, tears streaming down his face now too. Sirius’ heart sunk deep in his chest, from the shame and regret flooding through his system. He honestly hasn’t even thought about that aspect of the situation, and now seeing the boy he cared so much about shaking and sobbing in front of him put everything into perspective for Sirius just how horrible his actions had been.

“I’m so sorry.” He choked out, knowing that there truly were no words he could say that could erase the grievous mistake he had made. They both stood there, silently crying for a long time before Remus let out a shuddering sigh.

“I’m trying to forgive you. I just need some time.” Remus muttered, and Sirius understood. His behavior had been reprehensible, but if there was any hope that Remus could ever forgive him after all, Sirius could wait the rest of his life for it, if he had to. One thousand lifetimes. He would wait for all of eternity, and then wait some more. Remus was worth it.

*******

It was summer after sixth year. The Marauders were all staying at Potter Manor for the next two weeks, until term started. Sirius still couldn’t believe he was graduating next year. He hadn’t seen his parents in over a year, and it had been just as long since he’d spoken to Reggie, though he still saw him at Hogwarts from time to time.

It was a rare moment, however, when the sorry state of his family wasn’t pressing firmly on his mind. He felt free, careless, and alive. He was outside with his best friends in the world, they had a bonfire lit and Sirius’ muggle radio blaring KISS songs. He was in his boxers, climbing out of the small pond behind the Manor, drenched, with tiny leaves sticking out of his wild hair. His face hurt from smiling, and his heart was full.

He plopped down on the grass next to Remus. James and Peter were playing beer pong with firewhiskey, both intensely focused and more intensely drunk. Peter stumbled and knocked over the whole table, and Sirius and Remus both cackled until they were absolutely breathless with laughter.

Remus brushed a stray hair from Sirius’ face and planted a kiss right on his lips. Sirius was so shocked, all he could do was pull back with a disbelieving stare.

“Moony!” Sirius shouted, putting his hand to his mouth, rubbing his lips where Remus’ had just been. Remus cracked up laughing again and jumped back in the pond as if nothing happened. Sirius sat there dumbstruck for a while, his lips and his chest burning, before he broke out the biggest smile and rushed to join the boy he loved in his late night swim.

*******

“Happy birthday, pup!” Sirius shouted from the doorway one last time before stepping out into the warm summer night. Remus stood beside him, holding his hand as they headed back to the apparition point outside of James and Lily’s home. They walked in an amicable silence before coming to the spot at the end of the street and Remus grabbed him by the waist to stop him before he could apparate them both away.

“We should do that, Padfoot.” Remus said quietly, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ jawline, and he could feel the man smiling against his skin.

“Do what?” Sirius asked, feeling flustered like he always felt when Remus had his lips on him.

“Have a baby.”

Sirius’ mouth fell open and it felt like the world was going to disappear beneath his feet, when Remus laughed maliciously and shook his head. The idiot couldn’t even say it with a straight face. Sirius couldn’t help but smile at the man as he kissed him to shut up that bark of a laugh.

“I really thought you were serious for a minute there, and I was going to die of heart failure.” He whined and Remus still shook with silent laughter.

“No, you’re Sirius love, how could you forget?” Remus replied with the old familiar joke and they both chuckled lightly as they apparated away.

*******

Remus and Sirius laid awake together in his room at Grimmauld Place. The same room he had slept in as a child, with all his Gryffindor memorabilia still hung up on the walls. It had been a long road, leading up to this. They’d lost nearly everyone they loved in these past decades of friendship and then later romance. Sirius still felt the icy chill of the dementors at night, as if they hid in the corner of the room, waiting in the shadows. But then Remus would pull Sirius against him in his sleep, and he could feel his love’s breath on his face, and his warm body solid against him, and he would remember. He wasn’t in Azkaban anymore. He had Remus right there with him. And if Grimmauld Place still felt like a prison, Remus at least made it feel less so.

*******

There were millions of little moments like this. Over twenty years, Sirius had spent with Remus, either as friends or as partners. He had been the absolute love of his life, and when Sirius watched him fall to the ground, with no light left in those beautiful amber eyes, something inside of him died too.

As he sat by himself by the fire burning in the hearth at Grimmauld Place, Sirius felt more alone than he ever had before. The place was silent, almost disconcertingly so. He considered picking a fight with Kreacher or his mothers portrait, for nothing else but to feel someone else’s presence just for a little while.

His head whirled with the most beautiful, and painful memories. He was dizzy with grief, and the bottle of firewhiskey he was nursing made him feel sick to his stomach, but he kept drinking in a desperate bid to numb the pain.

Sirius thought about ending it all, for the first time in his sorry life. His callous words he had so viciously spat at his godson, about how suicide was weak and insane. Oh how he was eating his words now, as he ached to forgo this world and join whatever one his Remus inhabited.

Sirius threw the nearly empty bottle against the wall and dropped to his knees, sobbing in anguish. His heart was shattered, his life was void of any semblance of joy. He was so thoroughly broken, he didn’t even notice when Kreacher tossed a blanket over him right there where he lay huddled on the floor.

He didn’t know how long he laid there. Sirius had no desire to get up, but eventually he did. He had no idea how he would carry on, but eventually he would. The Remus shaped hole left in his heart would slowly fill with all of his hurt, and his anger and with vengeance and hatred. He would bide his time with the mediocrity that had become his life since losing Remus. He would be Dumbledore’s perfect little pet. And he would dream about slaughtering that horrible man in cold blood. Maybe, in the distant future, when this war was behind them all once and for all, he would have more precious cherished moments not so tinged with pain and longing.

For now, he would live. Like he always had. Despite the pain and the suffering and the loss. He needed to be there for his godson. It’s what Remus would have wanted

Chapter 22: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

(Severus)

Severus apparated himself and the two boys to his safehouse. It was a cottage he had purchased after the first war, located just outside of some nondescript muggle village near Brighton. While it was rather small, and had fallen into a slight state of disrepair, it would have to do for now. The first thing he did upon arrival was cast multiple diagnostic charms on both Harry and Draco to assess their wounds.

“Is everyone okay?” Severus asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. It was a stupid question. Harry was still clinging to a very distraught Draco in a fierce embrace, rubbing his hands up and down the other boy's arms in a desperate bid to offer comfort. Neither of them answered, but the diagnostic charm told him they were physically as good as could be expected. Severus uncorked a calming draught for them to split between themselves and they both gulped it down eagerly.

Severus called for Mipsy, and had her clean, and expand whatever rooms she could to best accommodate them all. The little house elf was happy to oblige, and while she did that, Severus cast his patronus to send a message to Poppy. He was stunned to see, however, instead of his familiar doe galloping gracefully across the room, a massive grizzly bear sprang forth from his wand, lumbering proudly in its stead.

He found himself momentarily rendered speechless by the dramatic and unexpected change, but quickly recovered himself enough to relay his message.

“Please send a message to Poppy Pomfrey. Do not speak to her in the presence of Albus Dumbledore- well, not in front of anybody for that matter- but if she is alone tell her: Poppy, floo to the safe house at your earliest convenience, it is urgent. - she will know where to go.”

The bear nodded hurriedly and charged away in the direction of Hogwarts. Severus pondered on his patronus, but the more he thought about it, he realized it wasn’t very surprising at all that it had changed. Hadn’t everything? Severus had been balancing right on the edge of a precipice for his entire adult life. Simultaneously expected to take on more responsibility than any one man can reasonably bear, and yet, never given the opportunity to truly take charge in any situation he ever found himself in.

But now? It was completely up to him. Everything. He glanced over at Harry and Draco. Still children, no matter how much of their innocence this war had stolen from them. He knew that they couldn’t return to Hogwarts. They were now, the three of them, effectively on the run. The boys would have only him to keep them safe. The crushing weight of the responsibility was overwhelming, and yet it also lit a fire under Severus’ arse like nothing else ever had. He felt a fierce wave of protectiveness wash over him, and he rather did feel like a grizzly bear, in that moment, knowing he would tear the whole world apart to keep the boys safe.

While Harry and Draco retreated to their room for some much needed rest, Severus got to work. The cottage, small though it was, did have a fully stocked potions lab in the cellar, as well as several large garden plots out back to grow and harvest ingredients.

While he waited not-so-patiently for Poppy’s arrival, Severus set up a dozen cauldrons and began brewing a multitude of first-aid potions, including painkillers, antivenins, calming draughts and blood replenishers. These were simple, but necessary, potions to keep on hand, and he could brew them all by muscle memory while his mind was wandering miles away, focused on everything else still needing to be done.

*******

(Harry)

Harry’s head was spinning with the flurry of conflicting and powerful emotions he felt all at once. He was afraid and uncertain, he was angry, and feeling absolutely betrayed and violated by Dumbledore’s actions against him. He was panicking, but he was also incredibly relieved at the fact that both his father and Draco were okay, as well as being shocked and amazed that he had somehow managed to produce a bit of magic, right when he needed it most. It was all very overwhelming, and his hands were shaking, and he kind of felt like he was going to throw up.

Draco was a mess, to put it mildly. Harry had never seen him so shaken. Draco was born and raised with that infamously cold Malfoy regality that made it difficult for him to display such emotion. But now, that wall he had built up was completely shattered. He looked utterly broken; sobbing and muttering unintelligibly under his breath, trembling with barely contained rage and grinding his teeth so hard that Harry could audibly hear it. His face was red and puffy from crying, and his hair was very disheveled and damp with sweat, sticking to his neck and forehead, standing up in all different directions.

When Mipsy was finished transfiguring and expanding what was now to be their bedroom, Harry guided Draco over to one of the beds and climbed in beside him, holding him close. The few times Harry had stayed in the Slytherin dorms, occasionally he would share a bed with Draco, when his nightmares made sleeping too difficult. This was the first time the roles had ever been reversed, where Draco was the one who needed him, and Harry was determined to help the other boy through this horrendous night.

Harry clung to him like a koala with both arms and legs wrapped around him in a way that should have felt suffocating, but Draco was gripping him tightly and if anything pulling Harry even closer against him.

“I can’t believe he killed her.” Draco stammered out after a long time. It was the first coherent thing he had said since they left the ministry, and truthfully Harry didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, running his fingers through the fine hairs at the nape of Draco’s neck.

“He was going to kill me too.” Draco sobbed in distress. Harry pulled the other boy’s head under his chin to rest on his chest, feeling a lurch of residual panic at the memory of that sickening green light rushing right towards Draco. He had never felt so helpless knowing that one of his closest friends; someone who meant the world to him, someone he absolutely cherished; was going to die- screaming, but charmed silent- right in front of him.

In that moment, however, something inside of Harry had sparked to life, and he felt all the magic and the power in the world right there under his skin. But unlike after the ritual, when his magic was volatile and deadly, this time it felt protective. Like an ancient primal force had awakened inside of him with the sole purpose of keeping Draco safe. The shield he had wandlessly and wordlessly cast around him had been strong enough even to deflect the killing curse, which was supposed to be impossible. And yet he had called forth the power, somehow, even with a depleted magical core.

“I would never have let him kill you. Never. You’re safe now. I got you... and Severus will always protect the both of us.” Harry said soothingly, his voice barely above a whisper, as he pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head, and the other boy clutched the front of his robes so tightly his knuckles went white.

“I miss my mum.” Draco cried, and his voice sounded so sad and child-like, Harry’s heart shattered for him all over again.

“I know, love. I’m so sorry.”

Draco’s grief came in ebbs and flows with bouts of anguished sobbing, followed by lengthy somber silence, and Harry held him all through it. He remembered how comforting it was when Severus hummed to him in his worst moments over the past few months, a soothing melody that he could never quite place, but spoke to his heart all the same. And so he hummed to Draco while he rubbed his back and played with his hair.

Harry didn’t know how much time had passed. He could hear Severus shuffling around in the other room, but the man left them alone. He felt himself starting to drift off during Draco’s longest stretch of silence yet when the boy started speaking and Harry found himself wide awake once again, listening with rapt attention.

“One time, when I was little, my mother took me to the London Aquarium. It’s one of the only places in the muggle world I’ve ever been to. It was amazing… I remember I got a little freaked out, though, when we got to the deep sea creature section. I pointed out a squid and she laughed at me and told me all about the giant squid in the Black Lake at Hogwarts and how she used to see it through the windows in the Slytherin common room. I was so scared I cried, I threw a tantrum right there and told her I would refuse to go if they put me in Slytherin and I had to see that thing.” Draco reflected with a sad smile. The more he spoke, the wider his smile spread, and by the end he even laughed a little bit.

“That would have scared me too,” Harry replied with a light chuckle of his own.

“Yeah, well, the giant squid isn’t so bad actually. She calmed me down by telling me about the times she was able to catch a glimpse of it. She said the thing really loved to play peek-a-boo, and I thought for sure she was lying. But then I saw it for myself last year and sure enough, she was right.” He answered fondly, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the shared memory. They laid there holding each other while Draco told more stories about his mother and Harry hung on to every word.

“We should try and get some rest.” Draco said finally with a sigh after another long pause in conversation had Harry struggling with a fit of never ending yawns. Harry nodded and attempted to untangle himself from Draco before the boy tentatively grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Stay with me?” Draco asked in a quiet voice, and Harry snuggled in closer even than before.

*******

(Severus)

It was several hours later that the roar of the floo snapped Severus back to reality, and Poppy finally came through.

“Severus, I apologize for the delay, there is a nasty case of spattergroit spreading around the castle and it has been so busy in the infirmary. I haven’t even had time to think… is everything alright?” She said in a huff, dusting soot from her shoulders and straightening her robes. Severus lightly gripped her elbow and guided her to the kitchen where he pulled out a chair for her before seating himself across from her.

“Thank you for coming, Poppy, I apologize for taking you away from your patients. Tea?” Severus asked, as he stood up again, awkwardly, to put on a kettle to boil. He was anxious. This new arrangement he found himself in gave him purpose, yes, but was also so very overwhelming, and Severus wasn’t too foolish to admit he simply couldn’t do it on his own.

Now that they couldn’t go back to the castle, Severus knew he would need more people on his side that he could trust. He hadn’t yet been able to make contact with Black and Lupin, after everything that happened at the ministry. So far, they were the only other people who even suspected Dumbledore’s corruption, and Severus was rather desperate to recruit Poppy to his shitty little makeshift squad, before the old man could sway her to his side.

He had known Poppy since he himself was a student at Hogwarts. She became the apprentice mediwitch the year after she graduated, and Severus was in fifth year. For as long as he had known the woman, he had known she was one of the strongest and most intelligent witches he’d ever met. There probably wasn’t a medical malady documented in all of history that she hasn’t taken on first hand, and she always maintained remarkable levelheadedness through it all.

Severus set the kettle down in front of her and absentmindedly poured and prepared her a cup just the way she liked it, with just a splash of cream and no sugar. Throughout his career as potions professor, he had worked closely with Poppy Pomfrey for countless hours, brewing potions for the infirmary. He had probably spent more time in close proximity to her than any of his other colleagues due to the nature of their jobs, and he had learned a lot about the woman and picked up on many of her quirks over the years. She took the mug of tea and sipped it with a murmured thanks.

Tea in hand and no time left to waste, Severus told her every detail, not only of the events of the past few days, but every wicked part of the tale from its very beginning, when Dumbledore first made him a spy. Severus talked to her for hours, more than he’d ever spoken at one go in his life, and she listened attentively to every word. While he talked they shifted from the kitchen to the living room, at first on separate armchairs, and then soon enough they found themselves sharing the couch.

Bearing his soul to Poppy didn’t prove to be nearly as difficult as he had initially assumed it would be. She was an excellent listener, and waited patiently for him to finish before giving her opinion about anything.

“I’ve noticed the Headmaster has been slipping for quite some time, but this is worse than I could have ever imagined.” She replied after giving herself a bit of time to mull over everything he had said.

“As you have probably deduced on your own, we cannot safely return to Hogwarts. Dumbledore thinks Harry is some kind of child soldier prophesied to do his bidding. He has already undermined my authority as his father, and led him into danger once. I don’t doubt he will try and do so again.” Severus grabbed the witch by both hands and continued pleadingly, “We both know that Harry still requires a healer. I hate to ask such a thing from you, Poppy, but will you stay here with me and the boys? I can’t do it on my own, and I’ve nobody else to turn to.”

Poppy didn’t retract her hands from his, nor did she avert her piercing gaze, but she also didn’t answer for a long time.

“Severus… you don’t know what you’re asking of me. I… I took a vow when I became a mediwitch through Hogwarts to always keep the students safe. I can’t very well do that if I leave the castle. Also, as awful as it may be to say this, the castle has been my home for over twenty years. How could I just leave?” Poppy’s voice quivered when she spoke, and Severus could see the fear in her eyes. He understood. Hogwarts has been his home for nearly as long.

“Poppy, I thank you for hearing me out, and I want you to know I understand. No matter what you decide, I will of course understand... However, at this point, I am not above begging.” Still gripping her hands, Severus sank to the floor on his knees in front of her, “Please, at least consider it. This war is coming to a head. Dumbledore has lost the plot. The Dark Lord is sure to make a move against the school soon-”

“All the more reason for me to stay, Severus! If You-Know-Who attacks Hogwarts, they’re going to need me, I don’t even have an apprentice mediwitch right now to substitute for me-” Poppy cut him off, but soon he interrupted her flustered rambling as well.

“If Voldemort takes the school there will be nothing that you could do to save them all. I know that it is selfish. I know that I have little to offer you, but Poppy, damn it all, I need you. You can’t save them all but you could help me save Harry. I can protect you from these evil madmen driving this war, offer you sanctuary from Dumbledore. I could teach you how to properly duel, I will happily brew all of the potions we could ever need, Draco is an excellent brewer, I know he would be happy to help.

“Please, please, please, Poppy. Just consider it. I don’t need an answer now, but I will soon, otherwise I will have to branch out and start seeking help elsewhere. Though, there is nobody else I trust with my son’s welfare like I trust you.” Severus knew he was laying it on thick, and he probably sounded desperate and insane to this poor woman, putting so much weight of the war on her shoulders. But it was true, every word. Her face was fixed into a grimace and he could see dozens of emotions warring behind her eyes. Eventually she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long suffering sigh.

“Alright. Alright, Severus. I-I will try to help you. Let me… let me just get the spattergroit situation taken care of, and I will gather my belongings and my medical supplies, and I will come back as soon as I can. I guess I…I’ll need about a week or so.” She looked and sounded very unsure of herself, and like it physically pained her to do this, but the surge of relief that Severus felt at her concession was indescribable.

“Merlin, thank you. You, Madam Pomfrey, are a bloody saint. I could kiss you.” Severus exclaimed with a beaming smile, and if he caught the mediwitch blushing like a tomato before she hurried back through the floo, he didn’t say anything about it. Lord knows they had a long, tough road laid out for them, but despite the odds stacked against them, Severus had hope that everything would be okay.

*******

(Harry)

That night, long after Draco had fallen into a deep sleep, completely exhausted after the events of the day, Harry still was restless. Green lights flashed behind his eye every time he closed it. He could still smell that metallic-ozone scent of dark magic hovering overhead. He’d been forced into battle with no magic, and no weapons, led like a defenseless lamb for slaughter.

Harry felt violated in every conceivable way. His magic had been stolen from him and his very soul tainted. His body had never once been his, always left to the mercy of others. Now, even his mind had been cracked into and bent to the will of a psychopath, like a wanton little puppet with a hand shoved up its arse. Harry felt sick.

Last year when Barty Crouch Jr had cast the imperious curse on him, he was able to throw it off, difficult though it was. Dumbledore, however, was a much more powerful wizard than that crazed Death Eater had ever dreamed of being. And with no access to his magic, Harry didn’t stand a chance. He was truly helpless, for the first time in his life. Even before he knew he was a wizard, he had accidental magic to help him. Now he was empty. A void.

It was by sheer dumb luck alone that he’d somehow produced that shield to save Draco’s life one miraculous time, but that didn’t mean he’d be able to pull it off if they found themselves in danger yet again.

He heard Severus shuffling around in the other room, and silently unfurled himself from Draco’s side. It had been a rough month or so for Harry and his father. He knew that the man was at his wits end and struggling to cope with everything just like Harry was. He had been trying his best to put on a smile for Severus, and vowed to himself not burden the man with his problems again, after everything he’d already put him through… but he was so afraid, and his shields were crumbling, and damn it he wanted to chug Dreamless Sleep until he slept forever.

He stepped out into the shoddy little kitchen to find Severus sat at the table with a cup of tea and a plate of toast with jam.

“Mind if I join you?” Harry asked, and his voice was quiet and much smaller than he wanted it to be. He felt so much guilt when he saw the pain and the exhaustion etched on his father’s face. Could Severus ever forgive him for hurting him so badly? What would he do if he knew that even after everything, even though he fought them fiercely, those dark thoughts and urges still plagued him?

“Come here, my Harry.” Severus said, scooting his chair away from the table and holding his arms out wide for an embrace. Harry padded across the room and climbed into his father’s lap and rested his head on his shoulder. Severus held him tightly, and rocked them softly back and forth a bit while carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. He became immediately frustrated at the tears welling in his eye and falling treacherously. He hated that he was always crying. Merlin, was he sick of crying.

“‘M sorry.” Harry choked out and he could feel Severus shaking his head above his.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.” He answered in a low soothing voice. So full of love and patience that Harry never thought he deserved.

“I was so scared today… I - I couldn’t stop him from taking me. And I- I thought they were gonna k-kill D-Draco.” He stammered out through hiccuping sobs.

“I know, my son. You did remarkably. I am so proud of you, you did such a good job keeping a level head, even though you were scared. I couldn’t ask for a braver, stronger child.” Severus murmured soft praise and reassurance while holding him, and slowly Harry composed himself. His father’s love was overwhelming, something he had always craved but never dared hope for. Never would he have expected Severus Snape to be capable of providing such care, but now that he had it, he didn’t know how he ever lived without it.

He didn’t care if it was childish, or weak, Harry felt safe here, wrapped in his father’s embrace. For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to do it all alone. He had someone who loved him, and would protect him, and accept him with open arms no matter what. He felt silly that he had tip-toed so cautiously around the man these past weeks since the incident. Severus was his father. He wanted to be here for Harry, he wanted to help.

“Things will be different now, Harry. We will not be returning to Hogwarts. It’s going to be you, me and Draco. Madam Pomfrey might also come stay with us. We are safe here, nobody knows where we are. We are going to train together, and I am going to bring your magic back. I’m going to keep you boys safe, no matter the cost. I will never let another person touch a hair on your head. I have a plan. Everything is going to be alright now.”

Harry let himself be comforted. Severus said he knew what he was doing, and what could Harry do other than trust in it? What could he do other than believe in it with all his might?

Chapter 23: In This Together

(Severus)

They had been at the cottage for a week and two days, and Poppy was supposed to be leaving the castle to join them any time now. She couldn’t come a moment too soon. While Severus had some basic first aid training and had picked up on some things since he began caring for Harry’s injury, there was no doubt that they needed a skilled healer. Without his magic, potions and healing charms were useless to Harry, and since the events at the ministry, his wound was beginning to show signs of infection and Severus was worried.

Poppy’s Patronus had woken him in the dead of night, a graceful dove that landed upon his chest and lightly pecked him until he stirred.

“SEVERUS!” The bird screeched, and what a juxtaposition it was between the quiet grace of the translucent dove compared to the sheer panic in Poppy’s voice, jerking him into full consciousness at once, “I need you! There are aurors! Albus is nowhere to be found, please! They’re threatening my immediate arrest, please come Severus, I need you, NOW!”

Severus had flown out of bed to dress more quickly than he ever had before, and he was already through the floo before the bird had ever finished speaking.

He floo’d directly to the infirmary, and when he came through the fireplace he was shocked and appalled to see a burly ginger haired auror kneeling on the back of a screaming and crying Poppy, pinning her down on the floor, while another two aurors watched with their arms folded across their chests disapprovingly.

“You'd do better saving the histrionics for someone who gives a damn, woman!” The taller of the two standing aurors said with a sneer. Severus stormed forward with his wand raised at the men.

“Get off of her, now!” He roared, sending a stinging hex at the auror who had her pinned. The man toppled backwards and Poppy stumbled to her feet, half running, half crawling toward Severus, who scooped her up off of the floor and positioned himself in front of her, blocking her from the officers.

“What on Earth is the meaning of this?” Severus shouted, and then the three aurors had their wands turned on him. He quickly cast a strong shield around himself and Poppy just as a disarming spell was sent his way.

“Severus Snape? You are hereby under arrest for conspiracy against the ministry, domestic terrorism, consortium with dark wizards, and war crimes. You and Miss Pomfrey will be escorted to a ministry holding cell while officer Rowan fetches McGonagall for us.” The redhead auror said, stepping forward. Severus’ shield thankfully held as another expelliarmus and a stupefy were cast at him wordlessly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He could feel Poppy trembling at his side, and he pulled her closer to himself with his metal arm, raising his wand hand higher yet, aiming right between the auror’s eyes.

“On what grounds? Where is Dumbledore?” Severus asked through gritted teeth.

“I’d like to ask you the same question. Albus Dumbledore has made himself a direct enemy of the ministry and he is a wanted fugitive, as of this morning.” The ginger auror replied, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled up into a smirk.

“If you could tell us where he is, we might be able to see about letting you two go… for now.” One of the other aurors, a scrawny blonde who looked much too young to be taken seriously, said with a nasty grin of his own.

“Wouldn’t count on it, Drescall,” chimed in the third officer, a bald stocky man with a heavily scarred face, “Dumbledore’s little Order of the Phoenix has been marked as a terroristic organization by the minister himself. You’re all facing quite hefty Azkaban sentences. Still… you’d do well to cooperate. You wouldn’t want to make anything harder for yourselves.”

“This is preposterous! I would like to speak to the minister, why don’t you bring Fudge here, and have him tell me this himself?” Severus demanded, though he knew he held absolutely no authority here and he was occluding like mad to keep the tremble out of his voice. If Severus thought he was fucked before, just having Dumbledore for an enemy, he was astronomically fucked beyond all recognition now, if he had the whole of the ministry on his back as well. He was terrified.

“Didn’t you hear, Snape?” asked the blonde, Drescall, “Fudge is dead. Murdered by You-Know-Who himself, yesterday.”

“Interim minister is Pius Thicknesse,” the bald auror said, “and he won’t be playing these games with Dumbledore like Fudge has for all these years, the tosser…. Merlin bless his soul, and allat.”

“The ministry has had it with his bloody militia. You’re coming with us, put the wand down and put your hands behind your back. You too, witch.” The ginger auror growled, stepping forward once more, firing another disarming charm at Severus. He resisted the officer’s spell, but just barely, so he strengthened his shield, just as a loud explosion sounded from somewhere deep within the castle and the walls around them vibrated with shockwaves.

It was as good of a distraction as any, and Severus cast a stupefy at the red headed auror that had kneeled so savagely on Poppy, knocking him to the ground. The bald auror cast a cutting curse and Severus had only just dodged it by a hairsbreadth.

“Stand down! Petrificus Totalus!” Drescall shouted at Severus, who easily sidestepped the binding spell, throwing an expelliarmous back at him in turn. The young blonde’s wand came soaring through the air into Severus’ open palm, and he snapped it and tossed the pieces aside.

“Hank, he snapped my wand!” Drescall cried, ducking behind one of the cots with his hands raised up above his head in supplication.

The bald auror, Hank, cast another cutting curse, but this time he aimed it right at Poppy’s face. A wave of fury washed over Severus, and he dived in front of the witch, shoving her out of the way just in time, as the curse sliced across his cheek right down to the bone. Wild magic crackled around him and he cast a wandless and wordless sectumsempra back at Hank before he swept Poppy up into his arms and dashed through the floo in a swirl of black powder and ash, back to the safehouse.

Alerted by the noise, Draco and Harry came running from the bedroom, looking about wildly, Draco with his wand drawn, and Harry slightly crouched behind him.

“What the hell’s goin on?!” Harry shouted, but Severus ignored him raising his hand for silence as he cast his patronus to quickly send a message to Minerva.

“Send this message to Minerva McGonagall, but do not be seen and do not speak in the presence of anybody! Nobody can be trusted at this time: Minerva, are you safe? Please respond to me immediately upon receipt of this message, if you are injured I will come help you. Poppy is with me, and we are both safe.”

The bear hurried away as Severus cast another patronus immediately and a second bear sprang into the room.

“This message is for Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, only! Do not speak around other Order members: Black, Lupin, the ministry is coming for the Order. Be prepared, they are not fucking around. Get yourselves to safety, especially you, Black, they won’t pull any punches with you this time. I will send along the address of my safehouse. I need to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

“Dad, what the fuck is happening?!” Harry shouted once the bear bounded out of the room. Severus chose to ignore the foul language and plopped himself rather unceremoniously into one of the dining chairs. Poppy hurried to his side, muttering healing charms at the cut on Severus’ face and wiping the blood off of his cheek and neck even as she continued to weep and tremble silently. Severus grabbed her hand in a show of gratitude and to offer comfort, and she squeezed him back lightly and gave him a teary smile.

“The Dark Lord has killed Minister Fudge, and there is a known Death Eater supporter taking his place as the interim minister. The Order of the Phoenix is now considered a terrorist organization and all of its affiliates are being arrested as we speak. Madam Pomfrey and I were apprehended by aurors and they also mentioned detaining Professor McGonagall. We were able to escape mostly unscathed but we are unsure about Minerva. There was an explosion of some sort in the castle, and I’m hoping that it was Minerva doing something to escape capture, but I won’t know for sure until she responds to my message.”

Before anyone could say anything more, a deafening crack sounded, letting them know someone had just apparated onto the property. Severus looked out the window to see Sirius Black, injured and stumbling around. Poppy and Harry ran out to help him inside.

“Who is that?!” Draco exclaimed, pointing his wand at Black in terror.

“Draco, it’s okay, it’s just my godfather!” Harry said, with one arm wrapped around Sirius supporting his waist, the other arm lifted in the air placatingly in a show of peace.

“HE’S A MURDERER HARRY, GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Draco bellowed, never taking his wand off of Black, though now his arm was trembling.

“I’m innocent, I swear!” Black shouted, and to his credit he didn’t take out his own wand, even with Draco’s pointed right between his eyes.

“Draco, everything is alright, please will you lower your wand?” Severus asked in as gentle of a tone as he could muster, but he was quickly losing patience. Just then, a silver tabby cat pounced into the room, and gave its ghostly message from Minerva.

“Severus, I am okay, I was able to escape the aurors and I am uninjured, I am so glad to hear that you and Poppy are okay as well. Albus has abandoned his position at Hogwarts, nobody has heard from him. I will attempt to get in touch with everyone in the Order and let them know to lay low for now. Whatever you do, keep yourselves safe.”

Thank Merlin she was safe, and thank him twice that she wasn’t injured or in need of sanctuary. The small cottage was already uncomfortably stuffed full of people, there would hardly be any room to breathe if there was even one more.

“The aurors raided Grimmauld. I don’t know if Dumbledore himself took all of his protective warding off of the place, or if the ministry found Headquarters because of that blood magic you were doing, Snape, but I only just barely escaped them. I won’t be able to go back there, now.” Sirius said, wincing as Poppy tended to a nasty looking cut on his neck.

“Blood magic?” Harry and Draco exclaimed at the same time, and once again Severus ignored them.

“You can stay here. Where is Lupin?” At mention of the wolf’s name, an expression of sheer agony crossed his face as he bowed his head toward the ground.

“M-Moony’s gone. He was k-killed during the battle at the Ministry.” Black said gruffly, and apart from a small whimper from Harry, nobody said anything. Severus had always thought there was something more to Black and Lupin’s friendship, and the anguish written all over Black’s face told Severus he was right. What can you say to a man who just lost the love of his life? Such was the way of war. It was cruel and ruthless, and nobody left unscathed. He silently thanked Remus Lupin for his sacrifice, and he prayed that wherever his soul wound up, that now he could be at peace.

Nobody really spoke for a long time. Severus had Mipsy extend the rooms again, but there were just too many of them now to live here comfortably. There were only two bedrooms. Harry and Draco stayed in one, and Poppy was in the other. Now Severus would have to give Black the couch, while he himself would have to sleep in the potions lab. He didn’t mind all that much, he hardly slept anyway, but still. He would certainly have to get used to the crowding and lack of privacy, which was sure to be difficult.

“So… what do we think happened to Dumbledore?” Harry finally said, breaking the tense silence. Severus stood and walked to the stove, turning on the burner as he chopped vegetables into a pan for stew.

“I’m assuming he went looking for You-Know-Who’s horcruxes.” Black responded, and Severus struggled not to roll his eyes at Black’s straightforwardness. Poppy and the boys didn’t even know about the horcruxes, but judging from the cringing hiss that escaped Draco’s lips, he was at least familiar with the term.

“What the bloody hell’s a horcrux?” Harry asked, a look of confusion on his face, as he and Poppy looked back and forth between Black and Severus for answers.

“A horcrux is a shard of someone’s soul, removed from their body and housed in another object for safekeeping, if you will. Dumbledore is under the impression that The Dark Lord has created six of them. He cannot be truly killed until the horcruxes are destroyed, and that is the secret to his immortality.” Severus explained, adding chicken stock and spices to the stew.

“Six of them?! Even making one horcrux is some of the darkest magic that exists…” Draco exclaimed, wrapping his arms around himself, obviously distressed.

“Well, this is the Dark Lord we’re talking about. He’s just about as dark as they come… hence the title.” Severus replied, and the group found themselves once again in a contemplative silence.

When the stew was ready, Severus dished them each out a bowl and served them.

“Delicious, thank you dad.” Harry said, and Severus gave him a warm smile and a murmured thanks, but nobody else spoke. Poppy hadn’t said a word since arriving from Hogwarts. Black looked absolutely haunted. Draco looked scared to death. It was safe to say there was a definite lack of morale amongst their little squad.

“Alright. Enough with the sulking. We have to get it together now. We have all lost so much, but we still have each other. And I will be damned if I let anything happen to any of you.” Severus said, slamming his hand down on the table for emphasis. They all looked at him brokenly.

“I have been researching, Harry, to create a potion that should bring your magic back. It will take me some time to brew it, and then I still have to work out any imperfections or problems, but with any luck we should have a successful potion in a matter of weeks.” Harry simply nodded politely in response, not looking very convinced.

“I would like for you and Black to do a bit of training tomorrow, while Poppy, if you’re amenable, I would like you to begin tutoring Draco in first aid and healing. I will begin brewing Harry’s potion, and I have a small project I need to work on for personal reasons as well… we mustn't give up hope. Nor is it the time to rest on our laurels. The events of today are proof that things are getting bad out there, and we won’t be safe here forever.” Everyone nodded in agreement, too exhausted and emotionally drained to discuss it. They finished eating and everyone retired to bed, whispering goodnight to each other while they went to their respective rooms, and Black transformed into a dog and curled up on the couch.

It was cold in the lab, and Severus had always been pants at transfiguration, so the cot he transfigured for himself from a wooden stool was horrifically uncomfortable. Nevertheless, exhaustion overtook him soon enough, and he drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.