DISCLAIMER - These characters and the original idea, all belong to JK Rowling, this is borrowing for fun.
Just to note, the exchange with Hermione is adapted from Goblet of Fire, not the fifth year but for my purposes, it suited to use it in this story.
Learning to Trust Year 5 Part 1
Harry Potter had faced the bewildering, the unusual and the downright terrifying in the four years he had spent at Hogwarts, where he was training as a wizard. Now, as his fifth year was starting, he sat in the Great Hall and looked upon one of the most loathsome sights he had ever confronted.
At the teacher's table, clad in a fluffy pink cardigan, wearing a simpering smile and looking like a foul, over grown toad was Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and one of the most sinister people Harry had ever met.
He had encountered her last when he had been summoned before the Wizangamot, a sort of tribunal for witch and wizards suspected of having broken wizarding law. Though he had told the truth, she was one of those who had clearly made up her mind that he was guilty and dishonest.
There was something unnatural about her focus on him then, as if she hungered to see him punished. Tonight, she gave no indication that she was aware of him. She kept that sickly smile plastered to her pink glossed lips and regarded the tables of students benignly, managing only to look like one of those cursed dollies in a muggle horror film.
Hermione, one of Harry's best friends said that her appointment was proof that the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts. Harry could not disagree and certainly her presence promised nothing good, of that he was absolutely sure.
His suspicions turned to certainty before even the first week of term was over. A disastrous first lesson with Umbridge, happily assuming the role of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher had earned him his first detention of the year and more unfortunately, a telling off from his guardian.
Harry knew even as his Potions class started that Professor Snape was in a smouldering bad mood. He was renowned, with some trepidation, by students for his waspish demeanor and cutting sarcasm.
Watching him stalk into the classroom with his black robes whipping behind him, Harry knew that his usual classroom peevishness had boiled over into actual infuriation.
The dark glares he bestowed on his ward at intervals throughout the lesson left Harry in no doubt as to who was the cause of it.
Nevertheless, it was someone else who felt the first, searing blast of his ill temper that lesson.
Hermione Granger had drawn the head of Slytherin's ire several times before, simply by virtue of being extremely bright but a Gryffindor.
Today, he lashed out at her with a viciousness that was untypical. An accidental splash from her cauldron, where she was brewing a swelling potion had resulted in Hermione's teeth growing unnaturally long.
Upset, she had clapped her hands over her mouth. Ron let out a startled yelp.
"Hermione! Are you alright?"
Snape was standing at some distance, inspecting the simmering potion in Daco Malfoy's cauldron. His head snapped up at the interruption. His black gaze sought the source of it.
"What is going on? Mr Weasley, is there something wrong with your own bench necessitating your invasion of Miss Granger's?" he snapped. Malfoy sniggered.
"Something's happened to her, Professor, look…" Ron was looking worriedly at Hermione.
Snape bore down on them like an advancing plague. "Miss Granger?"
Reluctantly, Hermione took her hand from her mouth. Snape's lip twisted in a cruel smile. He turned his back.
"I see no difference." he sneered.
Harry heard Hermione's quick intake of breath and saw the tears flood her eyes. He felt his own temper spark. Snape was angry at him, he had no right taking it out on his friends.
Hermione dropped onto her stool, lowering her head and letting her hair fall around her face to hide the effects of the potion.
As the lesson ended, Ron whispered to Harry that he would take her to see Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing.
"Potter, a moment,"
There was no mistaking a command, no matter how softly it had been issued. The Professor had not turned around, his back was to the emptying classroom. Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look and hurried off, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"That was just being a bully! You made Hermione cry, do you feel better now?" Harry spat, scowling at his guardian's back.
"You are questioning my teaching methods now? Two in the same day! Going for some sort of record are you?"
Snape turned and fixed Harry with a furious look.
"Dolores Umbridge came to me earlier today to tell me that you were defiant and hostile in her class. I quote her verbatim. Would you like to explain to me how she came to think this?" Snape eyed Harry with barely harnessed irritation.
"Did she tell you that she accused me of being a liar?" Harry demanded, his voice rising as his anger climbed.
"And that's all it took? To provoke you into losing your temper? Must have been the easiest day's work she's done in a while," Snape shook his head and gave Harry a scathing look of his black eyes.
Harry frowned.
Snape walked towards him, took his shoulders in his hands and gave him a small shake.
"Why do you think that woman is in the school? Weeks after your disciplinary hearing? If you are looking to find a way to fast track yourself out of Hogwarts, then you are to commended on finding the most expedient one. Keep it up and you'll be out of here before the week is out!"
Harry hung his head. The Professor was right, he had played right into Umbridge's hands.
"You will afford Ms. Umbridge all of the courtesy and co-operation I expect you to show your other teachers. If I hear you have put so much as a toe out of line with her again and you will be saying goodbye to Quiddich for this year. Am I making myself understood, Mr. Potter?" Snape ground at him.
Harry nodded.
"Yes, Sir," he acquiesced and Snape let him go. He looked down upon him a long minute more, almost scalding Harry with the heat in his eyes and then he nodded towards the door.
"Get to your next class,"
Harry turned and left, feeling small, stupid and childish. He resolved that he would serve out his detention with Umbridge without giving her the slightest reason to find further fault with him.
In the event, that turned out to be more difficult than Harry could have anticipated. Evening after evening, he sat in her awful office, with its porcelain plates and lace doilies and over stuffed velvet furnishings and subjected himself to the evil little punishment she had devised.
"Harry, you have to tell Professor Snape!" Hermione was outraged when she saw the livid scar on his forearm.
Harry tugged down his sleeve, embarrassed and shook his head. "No. He's not exactly impressed that I've got detention in the first place. The last thing I need to do is go whining to him because it's tough. I can handle Umbridge," he replied.
The poisonous atmosphere that seemed to float on the frilly coat tails of the new teacher affected more than Harry, that was becoming clear to everyone.
The debacle that unfolded in the courtyard before the main door, reducing Professor Trelawney to a trembling, tearful wreck was the culmination of a week of tightening control by Senior Undersecretary Umbridge.
Harry joined the huddle of students who gathered around the school steps, watching the pitiful drama unfold. Umbridge stood resplendent in triumph as an utterly devastated Sybil Trelawney cried and pleaded, her trunks a battered heap on the ground.
"Where am I to go? What am I to do?" Trelawney was howling, her rounded spectacles askew, making her look like a lobsided owl.
The main doors opened and Harry watched Professor Dumbledore make his way through the mass of students with ease.
His gait was unhurried and when he spoke, his voice was calm. However, Harry had seen the blaze in those blue eyes before and he instinctively knew the balance of power had shifted.
"I think you will find, Ms. Umbridge that this is all quite unnecessary," he said.
The dreadful barrell of a woman bristled.
"I think you will find, Headmaster, that it is not. Professor Trelawney has been assessed and found to be performing well below the teaching standards upheld by the Ministry. I am well within my authority to remove her," Umbridge gave a sickening smile to underscore her words.
"Yes," Dumbledore conceded. As Umbridge's smile grew even more malevolent, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"However, you do not have the authority to remove the dear lady from this school. That power rests with the Headmaster alone," Dumbledore said serenely. The blue eyes burned brighter than ever.
Umbridge faltered. Trelawney looked with new hope at Dumbledore, wringing a gauzy scarf between her hands.
Professor McGonagall pushed her way through the wall of students. She made her way to her stricken colleague and put an arm around her quaking shoulders. It was a testament to how much she had to hate Umbridge to make a gesture of affection to Trelawney. Harry knew that Professor McGonagall had barely concealed contempt for the other woman's vague teaching style.
"Come on now, Sybil. Let's go back inside shall we?" McGonagall shepherded the stumbling Trelawney back inside while a venomous look thundered across the powdered face of Dolores Umbridge.
Harry rubbed his arm and without realising he was doing it, he scanned the assembly for the form of his guardian.
Professor Snape was easy to find, he stood tall and shrouded in his habitual black robes, his face devoid of any emotion. His black eyes alighted briefly on Harry's across the head of the crowd of students. His expression did not alter but his gaze lingered a long second before he looked away.
Harry felt fresh determination burgeon inside him. Umbridge was dangerous. She did not like to be crossed. Harry could not take the chance that the Potions Master would become her new target.
He might have succeeded in keeping the secret indefinitely but for the dream. It came as a bolt out of the blue when he was asleep in his dorm. He became aware of himself slithering along, he saw the darkened corridors of an unfamiliar building, yet moved with a confidence of knowing exactly where he was going.
He felt a dreadful sort of power within himself, a terrible hunger for … inflicting pain.
He saw the red haired man cowering in front of him, felt the delicious release in the attack.
Ron came awake suddenly as Harry's distressed shouts reached him. He leaped from his bed and called out but Harry didn't seem to hear and when Ron pulled apart the drapes on Harry's four poster bed, he saw his friend writhing, sweat on his face.
"Harry, Harry, wake up, mate," Ron shook him.
Harry's eyes opened suddenly.
"Your Dad, he's been attacked. He's hurt,"
Ron was stunned at the gasped out words and even more frightened still when Harry collapsed back on the tangled sheets, pale and unmoving.
He turned on his heel and raced as fast as he could from the dorm to the lower storey of the castle to Snape's quarters. He pounded on the door, yelling out for the Professor.
"Sir! Please come. Something's up with Harry. And I think my Dad. Help me, please,"
The door was wrenched open and Snape stood framed in the doorway, wand drawn. Ron could not manage another word. Instead, he took hold of Snape's arm and tugged him along the corridor.
"Alright Mr. Weasley. It's okay, I'm coming. Calm yourself and try to tell me what has happened," Severus hurried with the frantic boy, trying to follow his own advice to remain calm.
When he reached the Gryffindor dorm, he came dangerously close to failing, the sight that met his eyes almost stopped his heart.
The boy was lying in a pool of sweat and knotted sheets. His skin was almost transucculant and he was too still.
Snape rushed to the bed, snapped out an instruction to Ron to awaken Professor McGonagall and lifted his ward, calling to him with a tenderness he did not know he possessed.
At the sound of his name and a well loved voice, Harry's lids fluttered. He opened his eyes, immensely relieved to see the familiar face of his guardian.
"Severus. I… It's Mr Weasley, I think he's dead. Severus I…" the rush of nausea obliterated any words Harry might have spoken.
To his shame, he emptied his stomach, helplessly spewing its contents all over the floor and the Professor's shoes.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he was choking, even as Severus muttered soothing words of comfort to him, holding him through the embarrassing display.
Harry was vaguely conscious of a flurry of activity in the dorm, feet rushing around him, alarmed voices. Mostly, he was aware only of the strong arms that held him and the voice that he knew so well telling him that he was going to be okay.
Severus resisted the questions of Minerva McGonagall as she hastened into the dorm, wearing a long dressing gown and an anxious expression.
"Not now, Minerva. I have to get him to the hospital wing. Have the Order check on Arthur Weasley. He's on duty at the Ministry,"
Snape lifted the boy and ignoring the confused looks of the Gryffindors who shared the dorm with Harry, all awoken to chaos and the sight of their Slytherin Potions Master in their dorm, he almost ran to the door and along the darkened corridor to find the healer.
Poppy Pomfrey had dealt with just about every crisis of health and adolescent well being that could be thrown at her in her long years at Hogwarts.
Just the same, she was unnerved by the impatient pacing of the tall Professor , who hovered over her like a suffocating cloud.
"What is it? Has he been hexed? Is he conscious?" his rapid questions and intent stare was more than Poppy could endure.
"Professor. Please, let me do my job. Wait behind the curtain, I will be with you when I have examined the boy. I will no more then," she chivvied the man behind a screen and for a second, the thunderous look on his face made her wonder if she was in danger of being hexed herself.
Which was why she was especially relieved that is was good news she was delivering to the forbidding Professor a few moments later.
"He'll be fine, Professor Snape. A good night's sleep and he'll be as good as new. There are no lingering effects of the .. Outburst. Whatever it was that alarmed him so, it is passed," she said in the practised tone of medic addressing a distraught parent.
It looked as though the Potions Master had just remembered how to breathe.
"There is just one thing I would like you to see. I do not think it is connected to the episode but it is most unorthodox,"
The healer was moving back the curtain and Snape was frowning as she drew up the sleeve of the boy's pajamas, exposing a narrow wrist and an inflamed scrawl that Snape could not at first understand.
His face darkened as he began to comprehend what he was looking at. The words were emblazoned on the pale skin of the boy's arm.
"I must not tell lies."
Suddenly, he knew and he felt a murderous flash within himself, thinking of the toxic form of Dolores Umbridge. He would deal with this but not tonight. He mastered his temper, schooled his expression and looked at the little nurse.
"Can I stay with him, Poppy? I do not want him to be alone,"
Madame Pomfrey was unused to the humble tone from this formidable man.
Maybe that was why she nodded her acquiescence so quickly or maybe it was that her heart was touched to see the torment on the man's face.
"Just make sure he rests, Severus," she said kindly, laying a hand briefly on the black clad arm.
The Professor lowered himself into the chair by the boy's bedside. So many puzzle pieces emerging, so many secrets inside that stubborn little head. He watched the sleeping form carefully.
He was still watching when just before dawn, the boy stirred.
"Mr Weasley! He's been attacked!" Harry tried to sit up but firm hands were easing him back onto the pillow.
"It's alright, child. He is safe. He's been injured but he will recover fully. Don't worry now. Close your eyes and rest,"
Severus leaned over the bed and smoothed the untidy fringe back of the boy's forehead with his hand.
"Will you stay?" the plaintive request was one Severus could never have refused.
"Of course."
He lowered himself to perch on the side of the narrow hospital bed, stroking the dark hair as the boy's eyes flickered shut.
He was still there when light streamed into the room and Harry woke, pale but looking much more like himself.
"Severus?"
"I'm here, Harry. How are you feeling?"
Severus looked tired and his brow furrowed, making him look older, worried.
"I'm fine. I'm sorry. About last night," Harry's colour deepened.
"I made a mess of your shoes."
"I am not in the least concerned about my shoes, young man. Your wellbeing, well that is another matter," Severus flicked his wand at an empty glass and it filled with water. He picked it up and held it to the boy's lips.
"I'm sorry," Harry said again, after swallowing a few sips. He was finding it difficult to meet his guardian's eyes. Embarrassment was rapidly replacing the sickness that Harry thought would surely kill him just hours before.
"Why are you apologising, Harry? For being ill? There is no need for that. My only care is to see that you are okay," Severus laid a hand on top of the boy's head, a gentle gesture that seemed to spread warmth from Harry's scalp right down his spine.
"I feel much better now. Mr Weasley, are you sure he really is going to be alright? I saw… I felt … he was hurt badly," Harry frowned, repulsed by the memory of the dream.
"I'm sure, Harry. Arthur is no longer in any danger. Don't worry now," Severus spoke softly.
"Harry, we will need to talk about last night and I know the Headmaster will want a chat with you. But first, there is something I have to know and I want you tell me the truth now," the Potions Master set steady eyes on the young patient.
He lifted Harry's arm and gently rose the sleeve. Harry tried to pull away but Severus' grip stayed firm.
Snape said nothing, his fingers circled Harry's wrist, exerting no pressure. The scar seemed to glow in the distance between them, in the silence that lengthened as Harry dropped his head and scrambled to think of something to say.
"Why didn't you tell me?" the question was little more than a whisper.
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled.
"It is much more than nothing. I asked for the truth, Harry. And I will have it," there was a cord of steel in the quiet tone.
"I didn't want you to know. She's hateful, you know that. You saw what she did to Professor Trelawney. I don't want you to get sacked,"
Harry turned to stare at the wall opposite his bed. Tears scalded his eyes and he didn't know if they were born from the after effects of last night or the feelings of vulnerability that were washing over him.
Severus was momentarily silent. He had assumed it was stubborn pride that had kept the boy from disclosing what those detentions with Dolores were really about.
"Let me understand you. You kept this to yourself to protect me?" Snape frowned, his own voice came out a little more hoarsely than he intended.
Still facing the other way, Harry nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears escaping to leak down his pale face.
His guardian lowered his head, his forehead touching the boy's. He closed his own eyes and took a deep breath.
"You brave boy. But Harry it is my job to protect you. And I can only do that if you are honest with me," Severus whispered. He leaned back, regarded the form in the bed.
"I do not wish to have this conversation with the back of your head. Look at me now,"
Harry sniffed and obeyed. The Professor wiped the tears on his face with the backs of his fingers.
He looked into the child's eyes.
"There is something you are forgetting, Mr. Potter," Severus gave a ghost of a smile.
Harry returned his gaze, curiosity sparking.
"What?"
Severus chuckled darkly.
"There is a world of difference between Sybil Trelawney and myself. Ms. Umbridge may have a little trouble making me cry,"
Harry couldn't help his own smile at the image. Severus' eyes glinted warmly at the sight.
"That's better. Now you will leave Ms. Umbridge to me. If you are feeling up to it, we will arrange some breakfast for you and then, with some luck, Madame Pomfrey might let you come home with me. You may have the day off lessons," Severus said.
Even that promise did not dispel the gloom that lingered for Harry.
"Sir? There is something else. I need to talk to you, before Professor Dumbledore sends for me," Harry looked up at his guardian who nodded at him.
"Very well, Harry. I'm listening," Severus saw the anxious look in the boy's face.
"Last night, the dream… it wasn't a dream. I saw everything and I knew it was real. I was there, Severus. How can that be?" Harry's heart beat picked up, he was sure the Professor was going to tell him there was something badly wrong with him.
"I am not sure that I have the answer for you, Harry. It is my belief that somehow, your mind is open in a way we don't understand to the thoughts of the Dark Lord," Severus said carefully.
Harry shook his head and his eyes took on a haunted look.
"It's worse than that. Severus it's me that is bad, dangerous. I didn't see the attack on Ron's dad. I did it. I was a snake and I did it,"
Nausea swelled again as the poisonous admission left Harry's mouth.
"Easy, easy now. Listen to me, Harry, you are not bad. You did not attack Arthur. The link between you and He Who Must Not Be Named is one that works in a away we haven't figured out. We don't know if he is aware of it but somehow, the line between you both is open. What you saw last night was through his perspective, not your own," Severus said firmly.
"It was not you who sought to destroy someone, Harry. You saved a man's life. That is who you are,"
Harry blinked. The nausea abated. A terrible weight lifted. He looked with gratitude at the man who always seemed to have the answers.
"Now, are you ready for that breakfast? I don't want Madame Pomfrey giving me an earful for starving you to death!"
Severus stayed with him for the meal, signed his discharge papers and took him to his quarters. Then, when Harry was joined by Professor Dumbledore who was accompanied by Professor McGonagall, Severus made an unobtrusive exit.
He found Dolores Umbridge seated in her office, fussy and fluffy and utterly disgusting.
He did not knock. He entered her office as though walking into his own living room.
"Severus? Come in," she simpered, as though he had given her a choice. Her tone was polite, her eyes were hard.
"What might I do for you?" she gave him a smile that made him think of slimy things that moved in darkness.
"I have come to ask if the detentions with my ward are having the desired effect, Dolores,"
Severus' gaze fell upon her like an arrow and she did not care for the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped beneath it.
He had not raised his voice. His tone was civil. But he had spoken her name with a curious inflection, as though naming a poison.
"He is a most…. Resolute case, Professor Snape but I think I can reach him," she trilled.
The man rose an eyebrow.
"You methods take me back, Dolores. But I do not wish to bore you with nostalgic reminiscences about my days as a death eater, the blood I spilled, the joy I took in it. Or to take up your busy time telling you how I occasionally long for those good times," Severus took a languorous step towards her desk, idly thumbed a flowery cushion cover.
He brought his eyes to rest on her face. It was easy for him to unmask the thirst for vengeance, let it shine in the dark depths of his stare. He paused, allowed her to drink in a deep draught of it. He saw her composure waver a little.
He went deeper, dredging the blackest corners of the shadows in his soul. The leash on demons long suppressed loosened. He exposed just enough to remove all doubt as to what he might be capable of.
"Because of course, I am a changed man. And you already know this," Severus let the black intent swim in his face, giving the lie to his words.
"But if I was to learn that my ward needed further correction by you, then I could easily go back to my old ways. You marked him, Dolores. If it were to happen again, I might forget that I am a family man now. A teacher. One of the good guys," he tilted his head, lifted his shoulders, skewered her with a malignant look.
"I know that you wouldn't want that, Dolores. Afterall, your aim here is to ensure the stable hand of the ministry is seen to trump the dark threats of the past. Isn't that right?"
Somehow, Snape had closed the distance so that he was almost nose to nose with the woman. She had not really noticed him reach her desk, or lean over it.
Yet his black eyes were suddenly all she could see and her mind was filled with septic thoughts of murder, pain and humiliation.
"Isn't that right, Dolores?" Snape said again.
She nodded, almost involuntarily. Dolores felt cold, cold as the grave and she found herself longing to feel the sun, fearing that it was already too late to hope for it.
Her eyes never left his, even as Snape pulled back, widening the ground between them. Dolores felt as though a window had opened, letting air into a sealed room.
"Then we have an understanding."
"We do, Professor Snape," this time, the little girl tone was not entirely manufactured.
Dolores felt as though her throat was locked, her voice was weakened as she formed the words.
He nodded. He was suddenly back at the doorway.
"I will take up no more of your time, Madame Undersecretary," he gave a small bow.
With tremendous relief, she watched him leave.