A/N: I got challenge # 30 and frankly I wasn't sure I would be able to come
up with anything but here it is, much to my own surprise. I hope you enjoy
it.
Disclaimer: Must I do this? *sighs* I have not, nor will I ever own Harry Potter. That right belongs to J.K. Rowling who should be highly praised for her work. *glares* Happy now?
Special thanks to my two betas Vinnie and Frizzy! I'm thankful to both of you for your imput. Vinnie there is a note at the end for you.
Friendship Hidden
by Ankha
The summer had been a rough one for Harry Potter. During the previous school year, Voldemort had been resurrected, bringing about the start of the second war against him, at least, for some. With Fudge and the Ministry officially denying the return of the Dark Lord only those that knew the truth and believed it to be true had begun to rally a resisting force with Headmaster Dumbledore. The white wizard was handicapped by the fact that the Ministry officials (those still loyal to Fudge) was keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. Nevertheless the Order of the Phoenix, as Harry learned it was called, was going strong and doing its best. Voldemort, for his part in this grand dance, felt it was best to keep a low profile for the time being. That, however, did not prevent him from capturing wizards, witches and muggles, then torturing them in various ways for his demented pleasure. If there was no prey to be had, he turned on his own Death Eaters. It seemed to Harry that he was trying to make up for the years he had been gone. Harry had witnessed each and every one of these 'sessions.' At first, he thought it would drive him insane, and the Dursley's were never pleased to be awoken by Harry's screams, Uncle Vernon especially. Missing sleep because of his 'freak' of a nephew's "attention seeking," he had taken to using a belt on Harry every time he was awoken. Most of the time, the teenager felt nothing, being momentarily numb from the vision. The pain, however, always came back with a vengeance later once the numbing sensation had left.
Eventually, he had started stuffing a rag in his mouth before bed, hoping to at least muffle the screams. It would work, most of the time. He knew he couldn't go on this way or by the time he returned to Hogwarts he would be as fruity as a nut-cake; he went in search for something that would help him. One day, while returning from doing the shopping for his aunt, he spotted a shop that he thought might work. Slipping inside, he began to sneeze; the incense in the air was heavy and reminded him of Trelawney's classroom. Hand over his nose, he searched quickly and found what he had been looking for: a book on meditation. Paying for it with money he had earned over the summer he hid it in the many folds of his clothes and hurried back to Privet Drive. No one even noticed the rather large book in his oversized clothes, and after putting away the groceries, he was able to get upstairs without a problem. Over the next week he had absorbed the book, committing it all to memory and putting it into practice. When a vision would take hold he would ground and center himself; if he did so he was able to witness what happened without the pain. It also, he discovered, allowed him to put it all down on paper for later reference. The meditation also lent order and structure to his mind.
Now Harry was at Hogwarts, continuing his meditation along with his other studies. At the moment he was leaving Umbridge's class and heading with his fellow Gryffindors towards the dungeons for Potions. Professor Umbridge and he, to say the least, did not see eye-to-eye. After the incident with the dementors during the summer and the following trial he had developed a deep dislike of the toad-woman. He knew that he allowed his temper get away with him at times around her but after seeing all he had during the summer and her saying that it was all a lie, it was infuriating! That all of those deaths had been a lie! He sighed; this was not the time to be dwelling on that, there would be plenty of time to do that in detention tonight.
"Just what I need; Snape!" Ron grumbled, "As if Umbridge isn't enough we have to have classes with Mr. I-Have-A-Wand-Up-My-Ass Snape right after her."
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, eyeing the Slytherins around them.
"What? I don't care if they hear; besides, you can't deny that he has been more of a git than normal," The redhead continued stubbornly.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, he has been; he's never been this bad before."
"There's something wrong with him," Harry's quiet statement startled his two friends. His head was bent in silent thought, his longish dark locks hiding his expression.
Ron and Hermione glanced at him curiously. "Do you know anything, Harry? You do have remedial potions with him," the bushy-haired girl pointed out.
The truth was Harry had a few ideas (that he was not ready to share) of what had put the Potions Master in such a state. The first and foremost being Voldemort himself; being around the Dark Lord was detrimental to a person's mood and in Snape's case making him sourer than ever. From his visions Harry also knew that the Dark Lord demanded a show of loyalty frequently, often involving the torture of some innocent soul. As Snape was the most suspected, he was forced to perform this act more than others. Harry knew it made the man sick, as he had seen Snape return to Hogwarts, report anything useful to Dumbledore, and then heave until there was nothing left in his stomach. This usually left him in a foul mood for two or three days after, but eventually it would pass. The last thing that could be causing such a fuss was the torture he was placed under. The teenager had watched countless times when, in a fit of anger, Voldemort would torture his Death Eaters. Again, being the most suspect, Snape received the brunt of the man's rage. It left him damaged but not enough that he wouldn't be useful or able to take care of himself. Harry smiled bitterly, remembering something the Dark Lord once said. "It wouldn't do to have Dumbledore notice anything, would it, Severus?" He had said this while digging his heel into the man's chest.
At least when he had 'remedial potions' he was able to help the Potions Master. Of course it wasn't really remedial potions; that was only a disguise to fool the rest of the school, mainly Umbridge. It had begun as lessons in Occulmency, which Harry had discovered, much to his and not to mention Snape's surprise, was quite easy. The first lesson had been a tense one; Harry had grown to understand Snape more through his visions and the Potions Master still loathed him for being "The-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived." The Gryffindor didn't hold that against him; he hated being "The-Boy-Who-Lived" and wished nothing more than to be a normal teenager. But, as Snape had pointed out with a sneer, when had he ever been normal?
During that first lesson, the Potions Master had explained the basic principles and had given him a book on the subject, allotting half the time for him to study. He reminded the boy that he would not be able to leave the room with the book as it might rouse suspicion. He had seen the logic in that and, with Snape's points in mind, set out to learn as much as he could in thirty minutes. After that, the Potions Master promised, they would begin to practice. Harry knew he had to be ready or he would be fodder for this wolf. As he read he began to understand what Snape had been saying (it wasn't all that different from meditation he discovered, just more advanced). Occulmency was meant to protect the mind, what better protection than with a wall? Slipping into his meditation trance he visualized the strongest wall he could think of: a wall of Hogwarts. Stone by stone he built it around his mind, thinking his head incased in and his core (what made him "Harry") within as well. Snape had thought him daydreaming of course and demanded that he stand so they could begin; "Since you are too disrespectful to use the time to study that I so graciously allowed you." Harry had said nothing, only raised an eyebrow; there had been five out of the thirty minutes left. Hoping his wall was secure the Gryffindor took up a dueling pose across from the Potions Master. Before Harry could draw a breath, Snape whipped his wand and hissed "Legilimens!" The spell hit Harry, and his barrier, with all the gentleness of one of the Whomping Willows branches. His knees buckled, and he clutched his head; he could feel the other clawing to get in but his barrier held. Feeling the spell weakening in surprise at his resistance, he fought back, throwing Snape out of his mind and slamming the 'door' shut.
He had awoken an hour later on a couch in the Potions Master's office. Head pounding furiously, he'd sat up gingerly; a cup of steaming tea was shoved into his hands roughly and a voice muttered something along the lines of it "easing the pain." That was all the encouragement Harry needed as he gulped the brew down and felt his headache ease. Glancing up to see who had helped him, he saw Snape at his desk sipping the same brew. Sensing Harry's gaze, he commented that the Gryffindor had been rather rough when he'd tossed him from his mind. When Harry began to apologize, the man had waved it away and dismissed him but promised that he would want to know next time how Harry had shielded his mind so. The Gryffindor had not only left with a waning headache but food for thought. By not criticizing him and seeming curious of how the "hopeless, good-for-nothing Potter" had beaten him at his own game, the Potions Master had paid Harry a compliment, at least, in Harry's eyes.
The next lesson had been at the end of the week and during the intermittent time Harry had read as much on Occulmency as he could get his hands on without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary. He had never taken the books from the library but would instead return in the middle of the night under his invisibility cloak. He was fairly certain now that he had a handle on what Snape wanted out of him and he was ready. So Friday, after dinner, Harry made his way to the Head of Slytherin's office. Snape was already waiting for him behind his desk. Without wasting breath on pleasantries, he had demanded to know how Harry had done so well so quickly. As an answer, the Gryffindor turned over the meditation book, explaining about the nightmares (excluding his uncle's abuse) then handed over the dream journal as well. Snape's eyebrows had risen to his hairline at how thick the journal was but said nothing, only flipping through a few of the pages. After asking if he could make a copy and upon receiving permission the Potions Master informed him they would progress to the next step: making Harry's shield invisible. The Gryffindor had readily agreed, knowing this was necessary.
"Harry?" The boy glanced up. "We lost you there, Harry, are you all right?"
He gave them a small smile in reassurance. "I'm fine, I was just thinking."
"A nice change of pace, I am sure, Mr. Potter," Snape's voice suddenly intruded from behind them. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for blocking the doorway," he went on, "Now move." The three scurried inside and took up their usual spots near the middle of the classroom. Snape swept in at their heels, surveying the class with a cold eye. Satisfied everyone was present, he began his lesson. "Today we will be brewing Theodan Potion. As usual, you will be doing so in pairs," The dark eyes suddenly lit with a malicious glint, "only now you will partner with someone from another house." Turning to the chalkboard, he swiftly wrote down everyone's name then tapped the chalkboard once. The names rearranged themselves into pairs, and Harry had to stifle a groan. Of all the Slytherins, it had to be Malfoy; Snape was in a vindictive mood today. Trying not to show his misery he grabbed his things and trudged to the other side of the room. Malfoy sneered at him. "Ready to pass for once, Potter?" Harry said nothing; instead he went to the supply cabinet.
Hermione met him there. "Try not to lose your temper, Harry, you don't need any more detentions," she whispered.
"I don't think it matters, Hermione, I'm bound to get detention today, it's only a matter of time."
He didn't know how right he was. Returning to his work area, he laid out the ingredients in the order they were to be added. "I think I will do the brewing, Potter, you can chop the ingredients," Malfoy said.
Harry shoved half the ingredients his way and placed a knife in front of him. "We'll /both/ prepare the ingredients and brew the potion," he shot back. Malfoy glared but Harry ignored him, turning his attention to the task at hand.
Deciding Potter was not going to get the last word, the Slytherin continued to talk even as he crushed beetle legs. "This potion is a very useful one; it renders a person blind and deaf."
Harry knew his game and decided to play along. "Only temporarily, it does wear off." Malfoy smirked. "Yes, but by that point, a person would most likely be dead," His smirk widened, "Perhaps someone should slip some in your drink, Potter, or perhaps even in Dumbledore's."
Though outwardly calm, inside, Harry was seething in anger; he had expected the comment about him, but damn the other if he should threaten the headmaster! Harry was very fond and overly protective of the man. Taking a deep breath, he dumped his flobberworm intestine into the cauldron. "Loss of a sense heightens the rest, Malfoy, surely even you knew that."
"Of course, but sight and hearing? That only leaves taste, touch, and smell. I doubt you would get close enough to touch your attacker, let alone taste him. Smell would be all that you would have left."
Harry smiled slightly and took another deep breath. "Pomegranate shampoo, Malfoy? I always assumed you used coconut."
The Slytherin's jaw, much to the Gryffindor's delight, dropped and he sputtered. "How did you..." He stopped and pulled himself together. "Cute trick, Potter, but what if you nose was broken?" He grinned viciously, "Then what would you do?" Silence was his only answer besides the minute ripping sound as Harry detached the wings from a lacewing fly. Malfoy smirked in victory; he had won. "Can't think of anything to say, Potter?"
"I should have brought you a bag of balloons, Malfoy. With all the hot air you're spewing over there, you would have filled them all in no time," Harry quipped back as he measured the powdered dragon scales. Malfoy jerked, reaching for his wand, and only succeeded in tipping the floating dish of runespoor egg yolk into the cauldron. With a cry of warning, the Gryffindor turned away; most of the exploding liquid coated his school robe. When the dark fumes cleared and his coughing passed, he looked through stinging eyes to see a very angry Professor Snape standing over them.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, exactly what did you think you were doing?" he asked, and by the strained tone of his voice, the Gryffindor could tell he was trying to contain his temper.
Jumping to explain before Malfoy, Harry said, "The runespoor egg yolks were added too soon, sir."
Had he not been so angry, the Gryffindor was sure that Snape would have rolled his eyes at such an obvious statement. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I can see that. Dump the contents; both of you will report to me tonight for detention so you can re-brew this potion." The blond Slytherin's mouth flopped open in disbelief; in fact, most of the class was gobsmacked. Snape had never before given a detention to a Slytherin let alone Malfoy. A sneer crossed the Potions Master's face. "Unless you wish to fail, Mr. Malfoy," he challenged, staring down the teenager. Malfoy returned the stare for a moment before finally looking away. "Report here directly after dinner."
Harry sighed. "I already have detention with Professor Umbridge tonight, sir."
Snape snorted. "Dear me, Potter, trying to set a record? I will speak with her."
"Yes, sir."
****
Ron and Hermione, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, let out a sigh of relief when they left the dungeons. "I swear that man gets worse everyday. You shouldn't have gotten detention, Harry; it was that ferret Malfoy's fault that the potion exploded. Mind you, not many of them turned out right," Ron commented as they headed in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.
Harry shook his head. "No, it's fair; we were partnered. Besides, I would rather have detention with Snape than Umbridge." He rubbed the back of his right hand subconsciously. Both of his friends caught the small movement and had to nod. Climbing into the common room, Ron said he was going to catch a nap before dinner and headed upstairs.
Hermione settled into one of the overstuffed chairs to study, and Harry stood by the window, deep in thought. He was unaware that the bushy-haired girl was watching him covertly from behind her book; Harry was muttering to himself in parseltongue. That in itself was unusual; Harry did not often talk to himself, let alone in snake language. Finally, she had had enough and slammed her book closed, startling everyone (but Harry.) Sending a glare around the room till everyone returned to his or her business she approached her friend and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned slightly, letting her know he was listening. "Harry, you've been in a mood all day; what's the matter with you?"
The boy shrugged. "Worried about Severus, I suppose." He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked as if he were going to hit his head against the wall. Hermione put a hand on his arm and guided him to the couch; glancing around, she cast a silencing spell to encircle them. Satisfied, she returned to the matter at hand. "Severus?" was all she said.
Harry sighed. It was well there was an hour before dinner, he had a slight feeling they would need every minute of it. "From the beginning?" He asked in a teasing tone. Whenever Hermione explained things, she had the tendency to sometimes start in the middle.
She rolled her eyes at the good-natured barb. "Yes, and leave nothing out."
He took a deep breath; he hoped she was ready to believe this. "You know that I take Occulmency lessons with Severus, correct?" She nodded. "Well, I've already learned everything what I can and need to know that not even the Headmaster can bend my shield."
Her eyes widened. "But, Harry, Occulmency is a very difficult branch of magic; how could you possibly learn so fast?"
He smiled. "That will all be explained, I promise. As I was saying this only took about a week's worth of lessons to discover and master, but we thought it would seem strange that my lesson in remedial potions had stopped so quickly so..." Harry went on to tell of the long extra hours the Potions Master and he spent dueling, brewing potions, and studying. Thanks to the man, his studying skills, among other things, had much improved, and he was grateful for it. He told her of how he had learned meditation, which in turn, had greatly aided his Occulmency studies.
(Flashback)
"Here, Potter," The Potions Master, while towel drying his face, handed the tired Gryffindor a tall glass of water. Harry gratefully accepted it, pausing long enough to remind the man that his name was Harry, before downing it all in three gulps. They had just spent the last three hours dueling non-stop, and while neither of them were out of shape by any means, it did bite heavily into their stamina, the very thing they were trying to build. He had no sooner sat the glass down when a calloused hand gripped his chin and turned his face upwards. Harry bore the man's inspection without so much as a twitch.
"You sleep little, that is quite evident by the bags under your eyes," Severus finally stated, removing his hand.
The Gryffindor said nothing at first but bent over to retrieve a cleaning rag and polish. Finally, as he ran the rag along the long lines of the sword blade, he answered, "When Voldemort does not rest, I do not rest. Apparently, he is oblivious to the needs of sleep."
Severus scowled. "But you can shield yourself, Potter; why do you choose not to?"
"Harry, Professor," the boy corrected with a sigh. "And I do not think I can answer you readily except with 'I have to.' "
The Potions Master stared at him long and hard; for some reason, he believed the boy, but not for that reasons that he could fathom. Rising from his couch, Snape disappeared within his storeroom for a moment. Harry used that time to doze in the comfort of the room, for only here and in Dumbledore's Tower did he truly feel safe. He was awoken an hour later by the Potions Master firmly shaking his shoulder. "Come, you can sleep here no longer; you must return to your dormitory." Harry nodded sleepily and hauled himself to his feet. He blinked when something was shoved into his hands. Curious, he looked to the man for an explanation. "Promise me you will take this at least one night a week, Po-Harry. I need to know you get some sleep."
Reluctantly, the Gryffindor agreed and tucked the Dreamless Sleeping potion away in his robe. With a wide yawn, he bid the Head of Slytherin a good night and stumbled back to the Gryffindor Tower though he was quite unaware that he had been followed by the Potions Master to make sure he made it.
(End of Flashback)
"Lately, he has been trying to teach me to be an animagus, but I haven't quite got the hang of it yet; a little more time though and I will have it," he finished.
Hermione sat silent for a long while, deep in her own thoughts. "That still doesn't explain it," she said finally.
Harry frowned. "What?"
"Why are you so worried about him," she clarified, "Is something wrong with him?"
The dark-haired teenager bit his lip. "Hermione, I don't think I can explain it; lately, he's been so fidgety, nervous, and on edge. It's like there is some dark cloud hanging over his head that he wants to be rid of, but he can't seem to be able to. Hermione, I want to help him, but I don't know how!"
Hermione's honey-brown eyes stared at him long and hard; her gaze made him fidget in a way that not even the Potions Master's could. Then, quite suddenly, she smiled. "You think of him as a friend." She sounded sure of herself. Harry stared at her with an open mouth; yes, of course! Why hadn't he seen it before? Well, that explained the reason he was fretting much the same way he would if it were Ron or Hermione. See him as a friend; apparently he did, but why had he not seen that before? "You will find a way to help, Harry, don't worry; I'm sure of it," she continued.
A radiant smile broke over the dark-haired teenager's face, and he leaned over, pecking Hermione on the cheek. "Thank you for making things more clear."
She returned the smile. "Any time, Harry."
****
The time for dinner arrived and the countdown till his detention began. Ron tried to keep Harry's spirits up and the dark-haired teenager appreciated the gesture, but he did not think it would help. Harry could feel the tension in the air and knew something was going to happen tonight, and whatever it was, it not going to be good. Unlike most at the table, he picked at his food, his appetite having left him. He was mostly oblivious to what was going on around him until Ron suddenly choked. "Umbridge is coming," he gasped, reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice.
Harry looked up to see her standing behind him. "Your detention with me tonight has been canceled, Mr. Potter," she informed him in her breathy, girly voice. "You will report to Professor Snape instead."
He nodded and managed to hide the relief from his face. "Yes, Professor," he answered but she had already gone on her way to the high table.
Once everyone had gone back to eating, Hermione leaned over. "You got your wish," she whispered. Noticing his continued nervousness, she went on. "Is something wrong?"
"Something is going to happen tonight, Hermione; I can feel it." He suddenly shivered though it was quite warm in the room. "I don't like it one bit."
***
Harry left dinner early, following quickly behind the Potions Master who had left half way through. Treading the well-worn path to the dungeons, Harry paused before the entrance to the classroom. Would Severus be angry with him for arriving ahead of time? Likely, but there was nothing he could do; his instincts were screaming for him to protect the man, and the only way would be to finish his potion early and fabricate a reason to stick around to make certain nothing happened. Yes, that was all he could do; perhaps he would be able to gather clues as to why the professor was in such a snit. When he was in such moods, he closed up like a clam and getting anything out of him was like trying to draw poison from a wound: very difficult. Nevertheless, he would try; drawing in a breath, he knocked on the door.
"Enter." Harry pushed open the door to find the Potions Master at his desk grading papers. Severus glanced up briefly before returning to his work. "Early, Potter; how very unusual of you. Your cauldron is at the front desk; you may begin."
Harry nodded and gathered his ingredients. Having placed and ordered them he began to prepare them and was almost done with this when Malfoy sauntered in, arrogant as ever. The Gryffindor glanced at his watch; the blond was ten minutes late, would the Potions Master do nothing? His answer came when the dark man barked, "You are late, Mr. Malfoy; when I say directly after dinner I mean /directly/ after dinner. Five points from Slytherin and get started on your potion!" Malfoy stood, gaping in disbelief at the man for the second time that day. "Now, Mr. Malfoy!" he bellowed. Harry ignored the exchange as if it weren't happening but kept an eye on Malfoy; although he appeared to be sulking the Gryffindor caught the angry undertones in his _expression and knew that boded ill for the rest of the evening.
***
Draco sat fuming as he chopped the rose stems. How dare that man treat him so, as if he were nothing more than a disobedient house-elf! Now he was not only going to teach Potter a lesson but Snape as well. The man needed to be reminded of his proper place, but he would have to be patient; it would be another thirty minutes before Potter reached the critical point in his potion when the final ingredient would be added. Malfoy would add it for him. Knowing the Potions Master, he would stand over the cauldron at this point, assuring the student did (not) fail.
Half an hour passed and Draco was not disappointed. Harry was ready to add his last ingredient, and Snape, as the blond had predicted and hoped, was hovering over him. Reaching inside his robe pocket, he drew out a phial containing one mermaid scale. It came from the tail where the scales were largest; this one had been hard to obtain on such short notice, but he had wanted it and what he wanted, he got. Tipping the phial over and allowing the scale to fall in his hand, he looked up. Snape's back was to him but was not in front of the cauldron; Draco had a clear shot. Drawing his hand back he whispered, "Go to Hell, Potter," before lobbing it into the air.
***
Severus was just turning away when he caught the glint of what was flying through the air towards them or, more importantly, towards the cauldron. By Harry's widened eyes, so had he. The Potions Master made a quick decision; grabbing the smaller Gryffindor, he pushed him to the floor and threw himself over the boy as a shield. Above them, the scale dropped into the coppery liquid, immediately dissolving. For a moment, there was silence, the drawing of breath before a storm.
Then came the explosion. The coppery liquid rapidly changed to red and finally, black. With a mighty boiling heave, it rocked the cauldron, splintering it. Most of the potion was sprayed around the room, but a great deal was dumped onto the Potions Master. Harry heard him grunt as the white- hot splinters from the broken cauldron embedded themselves in his back. The Gryffindor could not see the man's face as his own was buried in a broad chest, but he knew it must be twisted in pain. It was nothing compared to what was to come. The black goop that had landed on the Potions Master quickly began to seep through his robes and touch his skin. Severus then did something no one had ever expected: he screamed. It was not a cry any mortal or undead had ever uttered; no, it was more terrible than that, as though it could strip the very flesh from those that heard it. Harry covered his ears in pain, briefly wondering if his eardrums would burst; Malfoy, in his fright, fled the room, leaving the damage he had caused behind and unattended.
Drawing his wits about him, Harry knew he had to do something and fast. Gathering his strength, he heaved the Potions Master off of him; the man rolled himself into a ball. His screaming had subsided, but it was replaced by a low desperate keening that drove urgency into Harry's heart. Taking the man's face in his hands he called, "Severus! Can you hear me? Answer me!" But even as he said this, Harry knew that the man was beyond his reach; the vacant black eyes told him that. Looking around the dungeons, he spotted the emergency shower; Snape had used it once or twice that Harry had seen, perhaps it would prove useful now. Gripping the fabric at the shoulders where the liquid was not present, Harry dragged the limp man under the mouth of the snake. Groping desperately, he found the tail and gave it a hard yank; water began to pour down upon them. Harry uncurled the man and looked hopefully to see if it had worked. To his astonishment, the keening continued and the pale face remained clouded in pain. It was then that the Gryffindor noticed the dark patches that stood out clearly, even on the black work clothes. Guessing this had to be part of the problem, if not all of it, he fumbled with the buttons; he had to see. Finally, becoming frustrated, he used a shearing charm on them and was able to pull the shirt open. Lifting the white undershirt Harry cringed. A black mass was set in the pale skin at the man's stomach, the same spot where the dark stain from the potion was on the man's outer clothes.
So this was the problem; then all the other patches too would produce spots on the skin. This was beyond his skill to help though in the back of his mind something nagged at him about the potion. Holding out his hand, he called a bell rope to him; he would use a house-elf to summon Madame Pomfrey, not the Floo Network. No, Umbridge would be watching that, and he did not want her knowing of this. Dobby appeared almost immediately after the first tug, and upon seeing the state of the two, he helped Harry drag the unconscious Potions Master to a clear patch. Leaning his back against the man's desk, Harry turned his attention to the concerned creature.
"Dobby, I need you to go to Madame Pomfrey and tell her that Professor Snape has been injured," he instructed. As soon as the words left his mouth, Dobby's green eyes widened, and he began to shake all over; the Gryffindor hadn't the slightest idea why. He was about to find out.
"No, Master Potter, NO! Do not send him to Her! Please do not!"
The Gryffindor's eyebrows furrowed together; what would draw such a reaction from Dobby? "Do you mean Madame Pomfrey?" He noted with some concern that Dobby flinched at the sound of her name.
"Yes, Master Potter, yes; but Dobby can not tell you reason. Dobby promised."
"What /exactly/ did you promise, Dobby? Please, this could be important!"
The house-elf looked miserably at the Potions Master. "Master Snape says Dobby is to tell no adult at Hogwarts, especially the headmaster."
Harry's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. Very clever, Severus, but not clever enough. Of course, you wouldn't think any student would ask what was wrong with you. "Dobby, you know that wizards do not come of age, and are considered adults, until they are seventeen, don't you?" The house-elf nodded and Harry smiled. "I am only fifteen, and therefore, not yet considered an adult; you can tell me!"
Harry could hardly believe the amount of relief and happiness that passed over the creature's face; he seemed positively ecstatic. "Yes, yes, Master Potter is right, sir, that he is! Long has Dobby wanted to tell some one, and he would have before were he as clever as Master Potter."
Harry held up his hand to stall any more from the little creature. "Dobby, please, tell me what she did."
Absently stroking the man's work clothes, (in the clean areas) the house- elf began. "I came to clean Hospital Wing one night, three weeks ago and found Lady Nurse standing over Master Snape."
The little house-elf shuddered and hid his face in his hands. Harry was growing inpatient. "Dobby, I have to know!" he snapped in a commanding tone that spoke of Severus's teachings.
The house-elf pulled himself together and went on. "She talked to him, Dobby don't remember what she say, but she twist one of Master Snape's wrists," Dobby demonstrated, "where he been hurt. Master Snape say nothing, only whimper." Now the little creature began to shake in rage. "Lady Nurse say mean, nasty things to Master Snape and he do nothing! Dobby so startled, he not able to react till Lady Nurse gone." The anger left the house-elf's face, and he sighed miserably. "Dobby take care of Master Snape that night and every time Master Snape is hurt. Most times he not go to Lady Nurse but just ask for Dobby's help. Only when teacher find him do he go to Her. Even then Dobby help," The look on Dobby's face was of fierce protectiveness. "Dobby not leave Master Snape to Lady Nurse." He looked as if he wished to spit on her name.
Harry was so glad he was sitting down for he surely would have fallen flat on his behind had he not. Turning away from Dobby, he looked down into the pale face of the Potions Master. Severus was intentionally letting her hurt him? But why? Surely...surely he didn't believe...? Harry shook his head; surely he doesn't believe he /deserves/ the pain, does he? As he touched the cold face, he knew it was true; unable to hurt himself, the Potions Master allowed others to do it for him. Voldemort he was unable to stop and wouldn't be able to. Pomfrey on the other hand; Harry squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. There would be time enough later to deal with her but his first priority was Severus. "Dobby, gather as many of the healing drafts in here you can find and bring them to me." The house-elf nodded and hurried away. Harry summoned his bag to him, and after emptying it of its contents, he put on his dragon-hide gloves; it was lucky he had had Herbology that day. Instructing Dobby to put the potions in the bag, he shed his robe, enlarged it, levitated the Potions Master, and wrapped it around the man. It was his hope that the potion would not soak through it as well but he had a feeling its mission was inwards, not outwards. "Dobby, I want you to go to the Headmaster; tell him he needs to come down here at once."
With a crack, the house-elf was gone only to return seconds later. "Headmaster Dumbledore in meeting, Master Potter; should Dobby disturb him?"
The Gryffindor thought for a moment. "Is Umbridge there?" he wanted to know. With a grimace, the house-elf nodded; Harry cursed. "We cannot help him here, we need to get to his rooms, but it will be a hard go trying to be noticed."
Dobby perked up. "Dobby can help! If Master Potter give Dobby permission Dobby will hide Master Potter and Master Snape."
The Gryffindor could have kissed him. "Bless you, Dobby; yes, you have my permission." Casting a charm on the man to lighten his weight, Harry gathered him into his arms and followed Dobby to the entrance. Once there, Dobby chanted something under his breath and tapped Harry's knee three times. The Gryffindor felt no different but said nothing of it, only adjusting his bag on his shoulder and tightening his grip on the Potions Master.
Their trip to the man's rooms in the heart of the dungeons was tedious and stressful. Many times Harry thought they had been found out but remembered Dobby's spell and knew he had to place faith in him. Once inside the rooms, the spell ended, leaving them once again visible. Lowering the Potions Master on the couch, Harry terminated his spell and began to carefully remove the man's clothes. In order to help him, he would need to see the full extent of his injuries. Now only in his underwear, the Potions Master shivered in the cold, and Dobby lit a fire. Black splotches made by the potion marred the pale skin; what Harry could not understand was how any were on the front part of his body. It was as though the potions had dripped /through/ his very skin. "Through his skin," The Gryffindor muttered, horror dawning upon him "Not Nazgulan!" Taking a deep breath, he turned to Dobby. "Deliver a message to Ron and Hermione: tell them I will not be up tonight and not to worry. After you do that, I want you to return to the headmaster; the second that meeting is over, bring him down here, understand?" Dobby nodded till his ears flapped. "Dobby will do so, Master Potter." He hesitated. "Will...will Master Potter look after Master Snape; will Master Potter make him better?" Harry laid a hand on one bony shoulder. "I will do my best, Dobby," he promised. Dobby nodded again and disappeared. Harry returned his attention to the silent, sick man on the couch before him. The Potions Master had uttered no sound nor made any move of his own for some time: if his calculations were correct, it had been a half hour since the accident. "Oh, Severus," he sighed, brushing one black silken lock from the man's face. "Your bad luck seems to never end, nor your pain. But not this time," The emerald eyes hardened, "this time, someone will help you, not hurt you. This I promise." Silence was his only answer. Standing from the couch, Harry scanned the bookshelves; manually looking for what he wanted would only waste valuably time. "Accio Most Potente Potions!" He cried.
A volume from the far end of the room pulled itself from the shelf and zoomed to Harry's outstretched hand. Glancing at the table of contents, Harry found the Nazgulan potion and flipped to the page. After scanning over the ingredients, Harry was now positive this was the potion that had been dumped on Severus, but what was it doing to him? Finding the passage, he read aloud. "The Nazgulan is the most potent of potions in this text. Once it touches the skin, it latches on like a leech and begins to feed. If unchecked, it will spread and consume the victim, casting them into darkness and destroying their soul; nothing of them shall remain." The book almost slipped from the Gryffindor's numb fingers. Consumed them?! Harry turned to find his worst suspicions confirmed; it was already spreading. Not only without but within as well. That would explain how it had reached his stomach already. Wrenching his eyes away, he turned back to the book to finish reading. "There is a cure, fortunately: the Mithrandas."
The Gryffindor flipped to the front and found to his relief that the potion was there. Finding the recipe, he set out to make the potion. Unicorn hair, six white rose petals, a bezoar, a hair from the head of the victim, and the heart of a white tiger, among other things. An hour it had taken but for such a short amount of time, the Nazgulan had spread rapidly, now covering most of Severus's chest. It was when he neared the point that he needed to add the last ingredient did he begin to worry. The ingredient itself, the willing sacrifice of blood from a friend did not bother him; no, he would give that himself. But how, once this was done, would he administer the potion to his friend? The headmaster had not come, and he could wait no longer. Taking up a knife, he held his right wrist over the cauldron and raised the knife. "Willingly do I give this blood so that my friend may live." He took a deep breath and slit his wrist with one swift motion; he watched dispassionately as the blood poured into the boiling liquid. As it flowed, a part of his mind was crying out "You have to stop soon, you'll pass out! Or worse..." Harry silenced the voice and focused on the blood; the more he could give the better. He did not feel himself sway and almost fall from the stool only to be caught by strong arms. The cry of "Harry!" seemed far away, dulled by the roaring in his ears. Darkness took him.
When Harry woke, he found himself on a couch; his wrist was bound, and he could feel the heat of a recent healing spell. As he tried to sit up, two hands appeared to help. When he was situated, he looked to find the owner of those hands to be Dumbledore. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Headmaster placed a potion phial to his lips. "Drink first, then we can talk," he commanded. Harry obeyed, downing the vile green liquid as quickly as possible.
'Blood replenishing potion,' he thought dimly as he traded the potion phial for a glass of water, which he drank greedily. "Thank you, sir," he finally gasped, feeling immensely better already.
The man smiled and nodded, running and an affectionate hand over the dark head. "You had me worried, Child, I feared for a moment that I might have come too late, but you had only just fainted. Now please, tell me what happened and why Dobby will not let me call Madame Pomfrey."
Harry's eyes closed briefly as he leaned against his pillows. "He won't?" He was surprised the creature would defy the headmaster. Dobby must be very fond of Severus indeed.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid he goes berserk, for lack of a better term, if I try, so I have ceased doing so. Tell me, Harry, what happened, and why Dobby is acting this way."
Taking a deep breath, Harry told him what occurred during the detention; Malfoy's tampering and the potion exploding. When he told Dobby's tale about the Lady Nurse, Dumbledore's eyes grew hard in anger, then softened with sadness. The Gryffindor knew the man was feeling very guilty and reminded him there was nothing they could do now, only prevent it from happening further. The Headmaster sighed and stroked his beard. "You are right of course; please continue." Harry told him that he had come to the conclusion he would have to help the Potions Master himself, and, after reaching the dungeons, instructed Dobby to wait till the meeting ended to bring Dumbledore. "Because of Umbridge," the white-haired man hazarded a guess. Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his right hand. Dumbledore looked at him quizzically for such a strange gesture, and when curiosity won out, he grabbed the boy's hand. Harry wanted to yank it away but thought better of it; he did, however, refuse to look the man in the eye. One withered finger caressed the raised white letters and another reached out to raise Harry's chin. The dark-haired teen needed all the courage he could muster to meet the blue eyes. "I will not judge you, Harry, you know that I will not," he began quietly. He must have woven some soothing spell into his voice, Harry thought as his nerves quieted, I wonder if I can learn that. "Who did this? Umbridge?" When Harry nodded, the blue sapphire-like eyes once more hardened, and he made Harry promise to come to him the next time this happened. Harry warned him he would be there tomorrow night as he had detention with her then. The man nodded, his eyes far away as if planning something. The teenager, for his own morbid amusement, wondered if the old grandfather-man was contemplating ways to kill Umbridge and make it look like an accident.
As if reading his thoughts, the Headmaster chuckled and ruffled his hair. "No, best leave that to Severus as he is better at it than I."
At the mention of the man's name, Harry suddenly remembered why they were having this discussion at all. "Severus! Is he...?"
Dumbledore held up his hand, a smile still present on his face. "He is fine, thanks to your potion, quick thinking, and sacrifice," The blue eyes drifted to the bound wrist of the hand he still held. "Dobby and I made sure it was put both on the black spots and that he ingested it. He should come around in a few hours." When it seemed Harry was going to want to stay awake, the Headmaster moved him till he was lying flat once more. "You will also sleep; do not worry, I intend to stay and watch over you both." Dumbledore stalled further protests by tucking Harry in and brushing a kiss on his forehead, as any parent would their child. Now too sleepy to complain, Harry watched as the Headmaster drew a chair between the two couches and prepared to wait out the night, before he himself slipped off into (for once) peaceful dreams.
Some hours later, Harry woke to the mumbling of a soft voice. Feeling much stronger than he had before, the Gryffindor sat up and whispered a spell for the fire to once more light itself. The orange-red glow was absorbed by Dumbledore's hair and beard, giving it the auburn coloring it used to possess. The Headmaster did not notice; he was snoring softly, his body slumped in sleep. Harry rose from the couch and cast a simple levitation spell on his mentor, placing him on the couch. Someone should use it if Harry was not going to. Once he was more or less certain the man would be comfortable, he turned his attention to the mumbling Severus. Pulling the chair closer, he examined him. Someone (Dumbledore or Dobby) had dressed the man in black cotton pajamas and tucked him under a silver throw. Gently capturing one of the twitching hands, he pushed back the long sleeve to find no black splotches but new pink skin. He breathed a great sigh of relief and released the hand to shake the Potions Master's shoulder.
"Professor. Severus, time to wake up."
Whatever dreams held the man released him at Harry's command. The eyelids slowly raised and the Gryffindor was much relieved to find the dark orbs that reflected the man's soul like obsidian glass were no longer vacant as they had been. A slightly more healthy pallor had returned to the man's face, Harry was pleased to note. At first, the man did not notice him as if he were still trying to gather himself back to reality, but eventually the dark gaze met the emerald one. "Harry?" His voice was not much more than a whisper.
Harry gave him a small but very bright smile, all his relief and happiness at seeing the man better, present. "Yes, Severus, are you feeling better?"
Severus nodded before glancing slowly around the area. "How did we get to my rooms?" he asked, recognizing where he was even in the dark.
"I brought you down here after you were doused with the potion." Harry suddenly remembered something and levitated the Potions Master, turned him on his stomach and laid him back down.
"What are you doing?" The man demanded with hints of his old self showing through.
"The cauldron shards, I need to see if the Headmaster removed them." He raised the shirt to find bandages and after peeling one away, he concluded they had been removed and turned the man back over.
After much grumbling, Severus finally asked, "Why not Pomfrey?"
Harry cocked his head to the side, not understanding the question. "What?"
"You called Dumbledore," Severus said with uncommon patience, "Why not Pomfrey?"
Harry's eyes were diamond hard. "Because I know what she does to you," he whispered harshly.
The Potions Master went deathly pale. "What?"
"Dobby told me everything," Harry continued when he could contain his temper. "How could you let her do that to you, Severus; why do you let her hurt you?"
The dark eyes would not meet Harry's to hide...was that shame that Harry saw? "Do you not think I deserve it after all I've done?" Severus asked in forlorn tone, which scared Harry more than anything for he had never heard the man sound so alone. The Gryffindor grabbed one of the limp hands and gave it a squeeze. "NO! I do not and I will not stand idly by and watch one of my friends be hurt so. She will pay for what she has done to you, that much I can promise."
Now it was the Potions Master's turn to be confused. "Friend?"
"What did you think you were," Harry wondered sarcastically, "my worst enemy? I'm sorry, but that spot has been filled by Voldemort and I don't think he likes sharing." Severus scowled and Harry smirked.
"So damn arrogant," the dark-haired man growled.
Harry's smirk widened. "And proud of it."
The battle of wits continued for a moment before Severus turned serious. "Was I hit with Nazgulan?" Harry nodded. "But the only cure for that is the Mithrandas potion, and that requires the willing blood sacrifice of...a...friend..." Harry would not meet the man's eyes, but instead stared down at his bound wrist. Severus followed his gaze and breathed in sharply at the sight. "You..." he faltered. "You didn't..."
"I wasn't going to let you die, Severus," Harry said, finally meeting the man's eyes. "Not when there was something I could do about it." Silence stretched like a bowstring between them, each contemplating the other. Harry cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked.
"Thirsty."
Harry disappeared and returned shortly with a glass of water. Severus gratefully drank the water and returned the glass with a brief "thank you." It was then that Severus's nose began to work properly, and he sneezed loudly three times. "Lord, Harry, you need a bath."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks so much for pointing that out Severus, I hadn't noticed," he returned in kind. Wrinkling his nose at the smell Severus pointed to one of the many doors in the room. "Through my bedroom is the bathroom; take a pair of my pajamas."
Startled by the offer, Harry did not move right away, but when Severus raised an eyebrow, he scrambled away to take a bath. He returned half an hour later, startling the Potions Master from his light doze. Seeing Harry, he could not resist a chuckle.
"You are a bit bigger than I am," the Gryffindor remarked innocently. He held out his arms; the sleeves extended past his hands three or four inches, the pant leg at least seven.
"Apparently," was all the man could manage without bursting into further laughter.
Harry gave him a sour look and sat down in the chair to roll them to the right length. "Now all I need is a bed," Harry said longingly.
"I'd offer you mine but I suspect you wish to watch over me like a mother hen as Albus does," Severus sneered.
Harry smiled crookedly. "Well , at least I know you're feeling better; your razor sharp wit is returning." He checked the forehead for fever. "But I would still feel better if you ate something, maybe cheese? How does that sound?"
Severus nodded. "Good, but you need some too."
Harry patted his rumbling stomach. "You'll be lucky if I don't eat it all before I get back," He told the other as he rose to go fetch their food; Severus grabbed his bound wrist, their eyes met.
"Willingly given?" Severus asked quietly.
Harry smiled gently and answered reassuringly, "Willingly given."
A small, almost indistinct smile formed on the Potions Master's face. "Thank you," he said then released him.
Harry nodded and hurried to small kitchen to hunt for their food. When he returned triumphant, his prize of a block of cheese in his hand, he found a bed where the chair had been. He blinked for a moment before heading to the couch and shaking Severus awake. "You should not be performing magic yet," Harry scolded.
"What are you talking about?" Severus demanded. Harry pointed to the bed he now sat on. "I didn't do that!"
A sudden sleepy snort reminded them they were not alone in the room. They turned to see the Headmaster facing away from them, snoring gently. Had he been doing that the entire time, Harry wondered, or had he been awake?
Severus muttered "Barmy old codger," under his breath. Both the student and teacher almost fell over when a sleepy, "Why thank you, Severus," was his answer. Harry almost choked on his cheese as he began to laugh and Severus rolled his eyes but his gaze was affectionate as it fell upon the older man. When their snack was done, Harry lay down on the bed, happy with its comfort and drew the golden cover over him.
"Goodnight, my friend," he wished as he dropped off to sleep. Severus watched him for a bit after that, marveling at this person who would see him as more that just a "greasy git" or "slimy bastard." Did he deserve the friendship? Likely not but he would not forsake it when so willingly offered.
"Goodnight...my friend."
***THE END***
A/N: I would like to do a small sequel to tell what happened to Pomfrey and Umbridge, should I? Do you all like it? Please tell me!
To Vinnie: The names of the potions come from Lord of the Rings. I was reading it while writing this and lets just say it influenced it. Theoden=Theodan. Nazgul=Nazgulan. Mithrandir=Mithrandas
Disclaimer: Must I do this? *sighs* I have not, nor will I ever own Harry Potter. That right belongs to J.K. Rowling who should be highly praised for her work. *glares* Happy now?
Special thanks to my two betas Vinnie and Frizzy! I'm thankful to both of you for your imput. Vinnie there is a note at the end for you.
Friendship Hidden
by Ankha
The summer had been a rough one for Harry Potter. During the previous school year, Voldemort had been resurrected, bringing about the start of the second war against him, at least, for some. With Fudge and the Ministry officially denying the return of the Dark Lord only those that knew the truth and believed it to be true had begun to rally a resisting force with Headmaster Dumbledore. The white wizard was handicapped by the fact that the Ministry officials (those still loyal to Fudge) was keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. Nevertheless the Order of the Phoenix, as Harry learned it was called, was going strong and doing its best. Voldemort, for his part in this grand dance, felt it was best to keep a low profile for the time being. That, however, did not prevent him from capturing wizards, witches and muggles, then torturing them in various ways for his demented pleasure. If there was no prey to be had, he turned on his own Death Eaters. It seemed to Harry that he was trying to make up for the years he had been gone. Harry had witnessed each and every one of these 'sessions.' At first, he thought it would drive him insane, and the Dursley's were never pleased to be awoken by Harry's screams, Uncle Vernon especially. Missing sleep because of his 'freak' of a nephew's "attention seeking," he had taken to using a belt on Harry every time he was awoken. Most of the time, the teenager felt nothing, being momentarily numb from the vision. The pain, however, always came back with a vengeance later once the numbing sensation had left.
Eventually, he had started stuffing a rag in his mouth before bed, hoping to at least muffle the screams. It would work, most of the time. He knew he couldn't go on this way or by the time he returned to Hogwarts he would be as fruity as a nut-cake; he went in search for something that would help him. One day, while returning from doing the shopping for his aunt, he spotted a shop that he thought might work. Slipping inside, he began to sneeze; the incense in the air was heavy and reminded him of Trelawney's classroom. Hand over his nose, he searched quickly and found what he had been looking for: a book on meditation. Paying for it with money he had earned over the summer he hid it in the many folds of his clothes and hurried back to Privet Drive. No one even noticed the rather large book in his oversized clothes, and after putting away the groceries, he was able to get upstairs without a problem. Over the next week he had absorbed the book, committing it all to memory and putting it into practice. When a vision would take hold he would ground and center himself; if he did so he was able to witness what happened without the pain. It also, he discovered, allowed him to put it all down on paper for later reference. The meditation also lent order and structure to his mind.
Now Harry was at Hogwarts, continuing his meditation along with his other studies. At the moment he was leaving Umbridge's class and heading with his fellow Gryffindors towards the dungeons for Potions. Professor Umbridge and he, to say the least, did not see eye-to-eye. After the incident with the dementors during the summer and the following trial he had developed a deep dislike of the toad-woman. He knew that he allowed his temper get away with him at times around her but after seeing all he had during the summer and her saying that it was all a lie, it was infuriating! That all of those deaths had been a lie! He sighed; this was not the time to be dwelling on that, there would be plenty of time to do that in detention tonight.
"Just what I need; Snape!" Ron grumbled, "As if Umbridge isn't enough we have to have classes with Mr. I-Have-A-Wand-Up-My-Ass Snape right after her."
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, eyeing the Slytherins around them.
"What? I don't care if they hear; besides, you can't deny that he has been more of a git than normal," The redhead continued stubbornly.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, he has been; he's never been this bad before."
"There's something wrong with him," Harry's quiet statement startled his two friends. His head was bent in silent thought, his longish dark locks hiding his expression.
Ron and Hermione glanced at him curiously. "Do you know anything, Harry? You do have remedial potions with him," the bushy-haired girl pointed out.
The truth was Harry had a few ideas (that he was not ready to share) of what had put the Potions Master in such a state. The first and foremost being Voldemort himself; being around the Dark Lord was detrimental to a person's mood and in Snape's case making him sourer than ever. From his visions Harry also knew that the Dark Lord demanded a show of loyalty frequently, often involving the torture of some innocent soul. As Snape was the most suspected, he was forced to perform this act more than others. Harry knew it made the man sick, as he had seen Snape return to Hogwarts, report anything useful to Dumbledore, and then heave until there was nothing left in his stomach. This usually left him in a foul mood for two or three days after, but eventually it would pass. The last thing that could be causing such a fuss was the torture he was placed under. The teenager had watched countless times when, in a fit of anger, Voldemort would torture his Death Eaters. Again, being the most suspect, Snape received the brunt of the man's rage. It left him damaged but not enough that he wouldn't be useful or able to take care of himself. Harry smiled bitterly, remembering something the Dark Lord once said. "It wouldn't do to have Dumbledore notice anything, would it, Severus?" He had said this while digging his heel into the man's chest.
At least when he had 'remedial potions' he was able to help the Potions Master. Of course it wasn't really remedial potions; that was only a disguise to fool the rest of the school, mainly Umbridge. It had begun as lessons in Occulmency, which Harry had discovered, much to his and not to mention Snape's surprise, was quite easy. The first lesson had been a tense one; Harry had grown to understand Snape more through his visions and the Potions Master still loathed him for being "The-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived." The Gryffindor didn't hold that against him; he hated being "The-Boy-Who-Lived" and wished nothing more than to be a normal teenager. But, as Snape had pointed out with a sneer, when had he ever been normal?
During that first lesson, the Potions Master had explained the basic principles and had given him a book on the subject, allotting half the time for him to study. He reminded the boy that he would not be able to leave the room with the book as it might rouse suspicion. He had seen the logic in that and, with Snape's points in mind, set out to learn as much as he could in thirty minutes. After that, the Potions Master promised, they would begin to practice. Harry knew he had to be ready or he would be fodder for this wolf. As he read he began to understand what Snape had been saying (it wasn't all that different from meditation he discovered, just more advanced). Occulmency was meant to protect the mind, what better protection than with a wall? Slipping into his meditation trance he visualized the strongest wall he could think of: a wall of Hogwarts. Stone by stone he built it around his mind, thinking his head incased in and his core (what made him "Harry") within as well. Snape had thought him daydreaming of course and demanded that he stand so they could begin; "Since you are too disrespectful to use the time to study that I so graciously allowed you." Harry had said nothing, only raised an eyebrow; there had been five out of the thirty minutes left. Hoping his wall was secure the Gryffindor took up a dueling pose across from the Potions Master. Before Harry could draw a breath, Snape whipped his wand and hissed "Legilimens!" The spell hit Harry, and his barrier, with all the gentleness of one of the Whomping Willows branches. His knees buckled, and he clutched his head; he could feel the other clawing to get in but his barrier held. Feeling the spell weakening in surprise at his resistance, he fought back, throwing Snape out of his mind and slamming the 'door' shut.
He had awoken an hour later on a couch in the Potions Master's office. Head pounding furiously, he'd sat up gingerly; a cup of steaming tea was shoved into his hands roughly and a voice muttered something along the lines of it "easing the pain." That was all the encouragement Harry needed as he gulped the brew down and felt his headache ease. Glancing up to see who had helped him, he saw Snape at his desk sipping the same brew. Sensing Harry's gaze, he commented that the Gryffindor had been rather rough when he'd tossed him from his mind. When Harry began to apologize, the man had waved it away and dismissed him but promised that he would want to know next time how Harry had shielded his mind so. The Gryffindor had not only left with a waning headache but food for thought. By not criticizing him and seeming curious of how the "hopeless, good-for-nothing Potter" had beaten him at his own game, the Potions Master had paid Harry a compliment, at least, in Harry's eyes.
The next lesson had been at the end of the week and during the intermittent time Harry had read as much on Occulmency as he could get his hands on without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary. He had never taken the books from the library but would instead return in the middle of the night under his invisibility cloak. He was fairly certain now that he had a handle on what Snape wanted out of him and he was ready. So Friday, after dinner, Harry made his way to the Head of Slytherin's office. Snape was already waiting for him behind his desk. Without wasting breath on pleasantries, he had demanded to know how Harry had done so well so quickly. As an answer, the Gryffindor turned over the meditation book, explaining about the nightmares (excluding his uncle's abuse) then handed over the dream journal as well. Snape's eyebrows had risen to his hairline at how thick the journal was but said nothing, only flipping through a few of the pages. After asking if he could make a copy and upon receiving permission the Potions Master informed him they would progress to the next step: making Harry's shield invisible. The Gryffindor had readily agreed, knowing this was necessary.
"Harry?" The boy glanced up. "We lost you there, Harry, are you all right?"
He gave them a small smile in reassurance. "I'm fine, I was just thinking."
"A nice change of pace, I am sure, Mr. Potter," Snape's voice suddenly intruded from behind them. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for blocking the doorway," he went on, "Now move." The three scurried inside and took up their usual spots near the middle of the classroom. Snape swept in at their heels, surveying the class with a cold eye. Satisfied everyone was present, he began his lesson. "Today we will be brewing Theodan Potion. As usual, you will be doing so in pairs," The dark eyes suddenly lit with a malicious glint, "only now you will partner with someone from another house." Turning to the chalkboard, he swiftly wrote down everyone's name then tapped the chalkboard once. The names rearranged themselves into pairs, and Harry had to stifle a groan. Of all the Slytherins, it had to be Malfoy; Snape was in a vindictive mood today. Trying not to show his misery he grabbed his things and trudged to the other side of the room. Malfoy sneered at him. "Ready to pass for once, Potter?" Harry said nothing; instead he went to the supply cabinet.
Hermione met him there. "Try not to lose your temper, Harry, you don't need any more detentions," she whispered.
"I don't think it matters, Hermione, I'm bound to get detention today, it's only a matter of time."
He didn't know how right he was. Returning to his work area, he laid out the ingredients in the order they were to be added. "I think I will do the brewing, Potter, you can chop the ingredients," Malfoy said.
Harry shoved half the ingredients his way and placed a knife in front of him. "We'll /both/ prepare the ingredients and brew the potion," he shot back. Malfoy glared but Harry ignored him, turning his attention to the task at hand.
Deciding Potter was not going to get the last word, the Slytherin continued to talk even as he crushed beetle legs. "This potion is a very useful one; it renders a person blind and deaf."
Harry knew his game and decided to play along. "Only temporarily, it does wear off." Malfoy smirked. "Yes, but by that point, a person would most likely be dead," His smirk widened, "Perhaps someone should slip some in your drink, Potter, or perhaps even in Dumbledore's."
Though outwardly calm, inside, Harry was seething in anger; he had expected the comment about him, but damn the other if he should threaten the headmaster! Harry was very fond and overly protective of the man. Taking a deep breath, he dumped his flobberworm intestine into the cauldron. "Loss of a sense heightens the rest, Malfoy, surely even you knew that."
"Of course, but sight and hearing? That only leaves taste, touch, and smell. I doubt you would get close enough to touch your attacker, let alone taste him. Smell would be all that you would have left."
Harry smiled slightly and took another deep breath. "Pomegranate shampoo, Malfoy? I always assumed you used coconut."
The Slytherin's jaw, much to the Gryffindor's delight, dropped and he sputtered. "How did you..." He stopped and pulled himself together. "Cute trick, Potter, but what if you nose was broken?" He grinned viciously, "Then what would you do?" Silence was his only answer besides the minute ripping sound as Harry detached the wings from a lacewing fly. Malfoy smirked in victory; he had won. "Can't think of anything to say, Potter?"
"I should have brought you a bag of balloons, Malfoy. With all the hot air you're spewing over there, you would have filled them all in no time," Harry quipped back as he measured the powdered dragon scales. Malfoy jerked, reaching for his wand, and only succeeded in tipping the floating dish of runespoor egg yolk into the cauldron. With a cry of warning, the Gryffindor turned away; most of the exploding liquid coated his school robe. When the dark fumes cleared and his coughing passed, he looked through stinging eyes to see a very angry Professor Snape standing over them.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, exactly what did you think you were doing?" he asked, and by the strained tone of his voice, the Gryffindor could tell he was trying to contain his temper.
Jumping to explain before Malfoy, Harry said, "The runespoor egg yolks were added too soon, sir."
Had he not been so angry, the Gryffindor was sure that Snape would have rolled his eyes at such an obvious statement. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I can see that. Dump the contents; both of you will report to me tonight for detention so you can re-brew this potion." The blond Slytherin's mouth flopped open in disbelief; in fact, most of the class was gobsmacked. Snape had never before given a detention to a Slytherin let alone Malfoy. A sneer crossed the Potions Master's face. "Unless you wish to fail, Mr. Malfoy," he challenged, staring down the teenager. Malfoy returned the stare for a moment before finally looking away. "Report here directly after dinner."
Harry sighed. "I already have detention with Professor Umbridge tonight, sir."
Snape snorted. "Dear me, Potter, trying to set a record? I will speak with her."
"Yes, sir."
****
Ron and Hermione, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, let out a sigh of relief when they left the dungeons. "I swear that man gets worse everyday. You shouldn't have gotten detention, Harry; it was that ferret Malfoy's fault that the potion exploded. Mind you, not many of them turned out right," Ron commented as they headed in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.
Harry shook his head. "No, it's fair; we were partnered. Besides, I would rather have detention with Snape than Umbridge." He rubbed the back of his right hand subconsciously. Both of his friends caught the small movement and had to nod. Climbing into the common room, Ron said he was going to catch a nap before dinner and headed upstairs.
Hermione settled into one of the overstuffed chairs to study, and Harry stood by the window, deep in thought. He was unaware that the bushy-haired girl was watching him covertly from behind her book; Harry was muttering to himself in parseltongue. That in itself was unusual; Harry did not often talk to himself, let alone in snake language. Finally, she had had enough and slammed her book closed, startling everyone (but Harry.) Sending a glare around the room till everyone returned to his or her business she approached her friend and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned slightly, letting her know he was listening. "Harry, you've been in a mood all day; what's the matter with you?"
The boy shrugged. "Worried about Severus, I suppose." He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked as if he were going to hit his head against the wall. Hermione put a hand on his arm and guided him to the couch; glancing around, she cast a silencing spell to encircle them. Satisfied, she returned to the matter at hand. "Severus?" was all she said.
Harry sighed. It was well there was an hour before dinner, he had a slight feeling they would need every minute of it. "From the beginning?" He asked in a teasing tone. Whenever Hermione explained things, she had the tendency to sometimes start in the middle.
She rolled her eyes at the good-natured barb. "Yes, and leave nothing out."
He took a deep breath; he hoped she was ready to believe this. "You know that I take Occulmency lessons with Severus, correct?" She nodded. "Well, I've already learned everything what I can and need to know that not even the Headmaster can bend my shield."
Her eyes widened. "But, Harry, Occulmency is a very difficult branch of magic; how could you possibly learn so fast?"
He smiled. "That will all be explained, I promise. As I was saying this only took about a week's worth of lessons to discover and master, but we thought it would seem strange that my lesson in remedial potions had stopped so quickly so..." Harry went on to tell of the long extra hours the Potions Master and he spent dueling, brewing potions, and studying. Thanks to the man, his studying skills, among other things, had much improved, and he was grateful for it. He told her of how he had learned meditation, which in turn, had greatly aided his Occulmency studies.
(Flashback)
"Here, Potter," The Potions Master, while towel drying his face, handed the tired Gryffindor a tall glass of water. Harry gratefully accepted it, pausing long enough to remind the man that his name was Harry, before downing it all in three gulps. They had just spent the last three hours dueling non-stop, and while neither of them were out of shape by any means, it did bite heavily into their stamina, the very thing they were trying to build. He had no sooner sat the glass down when a calloused hand gripped his chin and turned his face upwards. Harry bore the man's inspection without so much as a twitch.
"You sleep little, that is quite evident by the bags under your eyes," Severus finally stated, removing his hand.
The Gryffindor said nothing at first but bent over to retrieve a cleaning rag and polish. Finally, as he ran the rag along the long lines of the sword blade, he answered, "When Voldemort does not rest, I do not rest. Apparently, he is oblivious to the needs of sleep."
Severus scowled. "But you can shield yourself, Potter; why do you choose not to?"
"Harry, Professor," the boy corrected with a sigh. "And I do not think I can answer you readily except with 'I have to.' "
The Potions Master stared at him long and hard; for some reason, he believed the boy, but not for that reasons that he could fathom. Rising from his couch, Snape disappeared within his storeroom for a moment. Harry used that time to doze in the comfort of the room, for only here and in Dumbledore's Tower did he truly feel safe. He was awoken an hour later by the Potions Master firmly shaking his shoulder. "Come, you can sleep here no longer; you must return to your dormitory." Harry nodded sleepily and hauled himself to his feet. He blinked when something was shoved into his hands. Curious, he looked to the man for an explanation. "Promise me you will take this at least one night a week, Po-Harry. I need to know you get some sleep."
Reluctantly, the Gryffindor agreed and tucked the Dreamless Sleeping potion away in his robe. With a wide yawn, he bid the Head of Slytherin a good night and stumbled back to the Gryffindor Tower though he was quite unaware that he had been followed by the Potions Master to make sure he made it.
(End of Flashback)
"Lately, he has been trying to teach me to be an animagus, but I haven't quite got the hang of it yet; a little more time though and I will have it," he finished.
Hermione sat silent for a long while, deep in her own thoughts. "That still doesn't explain it," she said finally.
Harry frowned. "What?"
"Why are you so worried about him," she clarified, "Is something wrong with him?"
The dark-haired teenager bit his lip. "Hermione, I don't think I can explain it; lately, he's been so fidgety, nervous, and on edge. It's like there is some dark cloud hanging over his head that he wants to be rid of, but he can't seem to be able to. Hermione, I want to help him, but I don't know how!"
Hermione's honey-brown eyes stared at him long and hard; her gaze made him fidget in a way that not even the Potions Master's could. Then, quite suddenly, she smiled. "You think of him as a friend." She sounded sure of herself. Harry stared at her with an open mouth; yes, of course! Why hadn't he seen it before? Well, that explained the reason he was fretting much the same way he would if it were Ron or Hermione. See him as a friend; apparently he did, but why had he not seen that before? "You will find a way to help, Harry, don't worry; I'm sure of it," she continued.
A radiant smile broke over the dark-haired teenager's face, and he leaned over, pecking Hermione on the cheek. "Thank you for making things more clear."
She returned the smile. "Any time, Harry."
****
The time for dinner arrived and the countdown till his detention began. Ron tried to keep Harry's spirits up and the dark-haired teenager appreciated the gesture, but he did not think it would help. Harry could feel the tension in the air and knew something was going to happen tonight, and whatever it was, it not going to be good. Unlike most at the table, he picked at his food, his appetite having left him. He was mostly oblivious to what was going on around him until Ron suddenly choked. "Umbridge is coming," he gasped, reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice.
Harry looked up to see her standing behind him. "Your detention with me tonight has been canceled, Mr. Potter," she informed him in her breathy, girly voice. "You will report to Professor Snape instead."
He nodded and managed to hide the relief from his face. "Yes, Professor," he answered but she had already gone on her way to the high table.
Once everyone had gone back to eating, Hermione leaned over. "You got your wish," she whispered. Noticing his continued nervousness, she went on. "Is something wrong?"
"Something is going to happen tonight, Hermione; I can feel it." He suddenly shivered though it was quite warm in the room. "I don't like it one bit."
***
Harry left dinner early, following quickly behind the Potions Master who had left half way through. Treading the well-worn path to the dungeons, Harry paused before the entrance to the classroom. Would Severus be angry with him for arriving ahead of time? Likely, but there was nothing he could do; his instincts were screaming for him to protect the man, and the only way would be to finish his potion early and fabricate a reason to stick around to make certain nothing happened. Yes, that was all he could do; perhaps he would be able to gather clues as to why the professor was in such a snit. When he was in such moods, he closed up like a clam and getting anything out of him was like trying to draw poison from a wound: very difficult. Nevertheless, he would try; drawing in a breath, he knocked on the door.
"Enter." Harry pushed open the door to find the Potions Master at his desk grading papers. Severus glanced up briefly before returning to his work. "Early, Potter; how very unusual of you. Your cauldron is at the front desk; you may begin."
Harry nodded and gathered his ingredients. Having placed and ordered them he began to prepare them and was almost done with this when Malfoy sauntered in, arrogant as ever. The Gryffindor glanced at his watch; the blond was ten minutes late, would the Potions Master do nothing? His answer came when the dark man barked, "You are late, Mr. Malfoy; when I say directly after dinner I mean /directly/ after dinner. Five points from Slytherin and get started on your potion!" Malfoy stood, gaping in disbelief at the man for the second time that day. "Now, Mr. Malfoy!" he bellowed. Harry ignored the exchange as if it weren't happening but kept an eye on Malfoy; although he appeared to be sulking the Gryffindor caught the angry undertones in his _expression and knew that boded ill for the rest of the evening.
***
Draco sat fuming as he chopped the rose stems. How dare that man treat him so, as if he were nothing more than a disobedient house-elf! Now he was not only going to teach Potter a lesson but Snape as well. The man needed to be reminded of his proper place, but he would have to be patient; it would be another thirty minutes before Potter reached the critical point in his potion when the final ingredient would be added. Malfoy would add it for him. Knowing the Potions Master, he would stand over the cauldron at this point, assuring the student did (not) fail.
Half an hour passed and Draco was not disappointed. Harry was ready to add his last ingredient, and Snape, as the blond had predicted and hoped, was hovering over him. Reaching inside his robe pocket, he drew out a phial containing one mermaid scale. It came from the tail where the scales were largest; this one had been hard to obtain on such short notice, but he had wanted it and what he wanted, he got. Tipping the phial over and allowing the scale to fall in his hand, he looked up. Snape's back was to him but was not in front of the cauldron; Draco had a clear shot. Drawing his hand back he whispered, "Go to Hell, Potter," before lobbing it into the air.
***
Severus was just turning away when he caught the glint of what was flying through the air towards them or, more importantly, towards the cauldron. By Harry's widened eyes, so had he. The Potions Master made a quick decision; grabbing the smaller Gryffindor, he pushed him to the floor and threw himself over the boy as a shield. Above them, the scale dropped into the coppery liquid, immediately dissolving. For a moment, there was silence, the drawing of breath before a storm.
Then came the explosion. The coppery liquid rapidly changed to red and finally, black. With a mighty boiling heave, it rocked the cauldron, splintering it. Most of the potion was sprayed around the room, but a great deal was dumped onto the Potions Master. Harry heard him grunt as the white- hot splinters from the broken cauldron embedded themselves in his back. The Gryffindor could not see the man's face as his own was buried in a broad chest, but he knew it must be twisted in pain. It was nothing compared to what was to come. The black goop that had landed on the Potions Master quickly began to seep through his robes and touch his skin. Severus then did something no one had ever expected: he screamed. It was not a cry any mortal or undead had ever uttered; no, it was more terrible than that, as though it could strip the very flesh from those that heard it. Harry covered his ears in pain, briefly wondering if his eardrums would burst; Malfoy, in his fright, fled the room, leaving the damage he had caused behind and unattended.
Drawing his wits about him, Harry knew he had to do something and fast. Gathering his strength, he heaved the Potions Master off of him; the man rolled himself into a ball. His screaming had subsided, but it was replaced by a low desperate keening that drove urgency into Harry's heart. Taking the man's face in his hands he called, "Severus! Can you hear me? Answer me!" But even as he said this, Harry knew that the man was beyond his reach; the vacant black eyes told him that. Looking around the dungeons, he spotted the emergency shower; Snape had used it once or twice that Harry had seen, perhaps it would prove useful now. Gripping the fabric at the shoulders where the liquid was not present, Harry dragged the limp man under the mouth of the snake. Groping desperately, he found the tail and gave it a hard yank; water began to pour down upon them. Harry uncurled the man and looked hopefully to see if it had worked. To his astonishment, the keening continued and the pale face remained clouded in pain. It was then that the Gryffindor noticed the dark patches that stood out clearly, even on the black work clothes. Guessing this had to be part of the problem, if not all of it, he fumbled with the buttons; he had to see. Finally, becoming frustrated, he used a shearing charm on them and was able to pull the shirt open. Lifting the white undershirt Harry cringed. A black mass was set in the pale skin at the man's stomach, the same spot where the dark stain from the potion was on the man's outer clothes.
So this was the problem; then all the other patches too would produce spots on the skin. This was beyond his skill to help though in the back of his mind something nagged at him about the potion. Holding out his hand, he called a bell rope to him; he would use a house-elf to summon Madame Pomfrey, not the Floo Network. No, Umbridge would be watching that, and he did not want her knowing of this. Dobby appeared almost immediately after the first tug, and upon seeing the state of the two, he helped Harry drag the unconscious Potions Master to a clear patch. Leaning his back against the man's desk, Harry turned his attention to the concerned creature.
"Dobby, I need you to go to Madame Pomfrey and tell her that Professor Snape has been injured," he instructed. As soon as the words left his mouth, Dobby's green eyes widened, and he began to shake all over; the Gryffindor hadn't the slightest idea why. He was about to find out.
"No, Master Potter, NO! Do not send him to Her! Please do not!"
The Gryffindor's eyebrows furrowed together; what would draw such a reaction from Dobby? "Do you mean Madame Pomfrey?" He noted with some concern that Dobby flinched at the sound of her name.
"Yes, Master Potter, yes; but Dobby can not tell you reason. Dobby promised."
"What /exactly/ did you promise, Dobby? Please, this could be important!"
The house-elf looked miserably at the Potions Master. "Master Snape says Dobby is to tell no adult at Hogwarts, especially the headmaster."
Harry's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. Very clever, Severus, but not clever enough. Of course, you wouldn't think any student would ask what was wrong with you. "Dobby, you know that wizards do not come of age, and are considered adults, until they are seventeen, don't you?" The house-elf nodded and Harry smiled. "I am only fifteen, and therefore, not yet considered an adult; you can tell me!"
Harry could hardly believe the amount of relief and happiness that passed over the creature's face; he seemed positively ecstatic. "Yes, yes, Master Potter is right, sir, that he is! Long has Dobby wanted to tell some one, and he would have before were he as clever as Master Potter."
Harry held up his hand to stall any more from the little creature. "Dobby, please, tell me what she did."
Absently stroking the man's work clothes, (in the clean areas) the house- elf began. "I came to clean Hospital Wing one night, three weeks ago and found Lady Nurse standing over Master Snape."
The little house-elf shuddered and hid his face in his hands. Harry was growing inpatient. "Dobby, I have to know!" he snapped in a commanding tone that spoke of Severus's teachings.
The house-elf pulled himself together and went on. "She talked to him, Dobby don't remember what she say, but she twist one of Master Snape's wrists," Dobby demonstrated, "where he been hurt. Master Snape say nothing, only whimper." Now the little creature began to shake in rage. "Lady Nurse say mean, nasty things to Master Snape and he do nothing! Dobby so startled, he not able to react till Lady Nurse gone." The anger left the house-elf's face, and he sighed miserably. "Dobby take care of Master Snape that night and every time Master Snape is hurt. Most times he not go to Lady Nurse but just ask for Dobby's help. Only when teacher find him do he go to Her. Even then Dobby help," The look on Dobby's face was of fierce protectiveness. "Dobby not leave Master Snape to Lady Nurse." He looked as if he wished to spit on her name.
Harry was so glad he was sitting down for he surely would have fallen flat on his behind had he not. Turning away from Dobby, he looked down into the pale face of the Potions Master. Severus was intentionally letting her hurt him? But why? Surely...surely he didn't believe...? Harry shook his head; surely he doesn't believe he /deserves/ the pain, does he? As he touched the cold face, he knew it was true; unable to hurt himself, the Potions Master allowed others to do it for him. Voldemort he was unable to stop and wouldn't be able to. Pomfrey on the other hand; Harry squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. There would be time enough later to deal with her but his first priority was Severus. "Dobby, gather as many of the healing drafts in here you can find and bring them to me." The house-elf nodded and hurried away. Harry summoned his bag to him, and after emptying it of its contents, he put on his dragon-hide gloves; it was lucky he had had Herbology that day. Instructing Dobby to put the potions in the bag, he shed his robe, enlarged it, levitated the Potions Master, and wrapped it around the man. It was his hope that the potion would not soak through it as well but he had a feeling its mission was inwards, not outwards. "Dobby, I want you to go to the Headmaster; tell him he needs to come down here at once."
With a crack, the house-elf was gone only to return seconds later. "Headmaster Dumbledore in meeting, Master Potter; should Dobby disturb him?"
The Gryffindor thought for a moment. "Is Umbridge there?" he wanted to know. With a grimace, the house-elf nodded; Harry cursed. "We cannot help him here, we need to get to his rooms, but it will be a hard go trying to be noticed."
Dobby perked up. "Dobby can help! If Master Potter give Dobby permission Dobby will hide Master Potter and Master Snape."
The Gryffindor could have kissed him. "Bless you, Dobby; yes, you have my permission." Casting a charm on the man to lighten his weight, Harry gathered him into his arms and followed Dobby to the entrance. Once there, Dobby chanted something under his breath and tapped Harry's knee three times. The Gryffindor felt no different but said nothing of it, only adjusting his bag on his shoulder and tightening his grip on the Potions Master.
Their trip to the man's rooms in the heart of the dungeons was tedious and stressful. Many times Harry thought they had been found out but remembered Dobby's spell and knew he had to place faith in him. Once inside the rooms, the spell ended, leaving them once again visible. Lowering the Potions Master on the couch, Harry terminated his spell and began to carefully remove the man's clothes. In order to help him, he would need to see the full extent of his injuries. Now only in his underwear, the Potions Master shivered in the cold, and Dobby lit a fire. Black splotches made by the potion marred the pale skin; what Harry could not understand was how any were on the front part of his body. It was as though the potions had dripped /through/ his very skin. "Through his skin," The Gryffindor muttered, horror dawning upon him "Not Nazgulan!" Taking a deep breath, he turned to Dobby. "Deliver a message to Ron and Hermione: tell them I will not be up tonight and not to worry. After you do that, I want you to return to the headmaster; the second that meeting is over, bring him down here, understand?" Dobby nodded till his ears flapped. "Dobby will do so, Master Potter." He hesitated. "Will...will Master Potter look after Master Snape; will Master Potter make him better?" Harry laid a hand on one bony shoulder. "I will do my best, Dobby," he promised. Dobby nodded again and disappeared. Harry returned his attention to the silent, sick man on the couch before him. The Potions Master had uttered no sound nor made any move of his own for some time: if his calculations were correct, it had been a half hour since the accident. "Oh, Severus," he sighed, brushing one black silken lock from the man's face. "Your bad luck seems to never end, nor your pain. But not this time," The emerald eyes hardened, "this time, someone will help you, not hurt you. This I promise." Silence was his only answer. Standing from the couch, Harry scanned the bookshelves; manually looking for what he wanted would only waste valuably time. "Accio Most Potente Potions!" He cried.
A volume from the far end of the room pulled itself from the shelf and zoomed to Harry's outstretched hand. Glancing at the table of contents, Harry found the Nazgulan potion and flipped to the page. After scanning over the ingredients, Harry was now positive this was the potion that had been dumped on Severus, but what was it doing to him? Finding the passage, he read aloud. "The Nazgulan is the most potent of potions in this text. Once it touches the skin, it latches on like a leech and begins to feed. If unchecked, it will spread and consume the victim, casting them into darkness and destroying their soul; nothing of them shall remain." The book almost slipped from the Gryffindor's numb fingers. Consumed them?! Harry turned to find his worst suspicions confirmed; it was already spreading. Not only without but within as well. That would explain how it had reached his stomach already. Wrenching his eyes away, he turned back to the book to finish reading. "There is a cure, fortunately: the Mithrandas."
The Gryffindor flipped to the front and found to his relief that the potion was there. Finding the recipe, he set out to make the potion. Unicorn hair, six white rose petals, a bezoar, a hair from the head of the victim, and the heart of a white tiger, among other things. An hour it had taken but for such a short amount of time, the Nazgulan had spread rapidly, now covering most of Severus's chest. It was when he neared the point that he needed to add the last ingredient did he begin to worry. The ingredient itself, the willing sacrifice of blood from a friend did not bother him; no, he would give that himself. But how, once this was done, would he administer the potion to his friend? The headmaster had not come, and he could wait no longer. Taking up a knife, he held his right wrist over the cauldron and raised the knife. "Willingly do I give this blood so that my friend may live." He took a deep breath and slit his wrist with one swift motion; he watched dispassionately as the blood poured into the boiling liquid. As it flowed, a part of his mind was crying out "You have to stop soon, you'll pass out! Or worse..." Harry silenced the voice and focused on the blood; the more he could give the better. He did not feel himself sway and almost fall from the stool only to be caught by strong arms. The cry of "Harry!" seemed far away, dulled by the roaring in his ears. Darkness took him.
When Harry woke, he found himself on a couch; his wrist was bound, and he could feel the heat of a recent healing spell. As he tried to sit up, two hands appeared to help. When he was situated, he looked to find the owner of those hands to be Dumbledore. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Headmaster placed a potion phial to his lips. "Drink first, then we can talk," he commanded. Harry obeyed, downing the vile green liquid as quickly as possible.
'Blood replenishing potion,' he thought dimly as he traded the potion phial for a glass of water, which he drank greedily. "Thank you, sir," he finally gasped, feeling immensely better already.
The man smiled and nodded, running and an affectionate hand over the dark head. "You had me worried, Child, I feared for a moment that I might have come too late, but you had only just fainted. Now please, tell me what happened and why Dobby will not let me call Madame Pomfrey."
Harry's eyes closed briefly as he leaned against his pillows. "He won't?" He was surprised the creature would defy the headmaster. Dobby must be very fond of Severus indeed.
Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid he goes berserk, for lack of a better term, if I try, so I have ceased doing so. Tell me, Harry, what happened, and why Dobby is acting this way."
Taking a deep breath, Harry told him what occurred during the detention; Malfoy's tampering and the potion exploding. When he told Dobby's tale about the Lady Nurse, Dumbledore's eyes grew hard in anger, then softened with sadness. The Gryffindor knew the man was feeling very guilty and reminded him there was nothing they could do now, only prevent it from happening further. The Headmaster sighed and stroked his beard. "You are right of course; please continue." Harry told him that he had come to the conclusion he would have to help the Potions Master himself, and, after reaching the dungeons, instructed Dobby to wait till the meeting ended to bring Dumbledore. "Because of Umbridge," the white-haired man hazarded a guess. Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his right hand. Dumbledore looked at him quizzically for such a strange gesture, and when curiosity won out, he grabbed the boy's hand. Harry wanted to yank it away but thought better of it; he did, however, refuse to look the man in the eye. One withered finger caressed the raised white letters and another reached out to raise Harry's chin. The dark-haired teen needed all the courage he could muster to meet the blue eyes. "I will not judge you, Harry, you know that I will not," he began quietly. He must have woven some soothing spell into his voice, Harry thought as his nerves quieted, I wonder if I can learn that. "Who did this? Umbridge?" When Harry nodded, the blue sapphire-like eyes once more hardened, and he made Harry promise to come to him the next time this happened. Harry warned him he would be there tomorrow night as he had detention with her then. The man nodded, his eyes far away as if planning something. The teenager, for his own morbid amusement, wondered if the old grandfather-man was contemplating ways to kill Umbridge and make it look like an accident.
As if reading his thoughts, the Headmaster chuckled and ruffled his hair. "No, best leave that to Severus as he is better at it than I."
At the mention of the man's name, Harry suddenly remembered why they were having this discussion at all. "Severus! Is he...?"
Dumbledore held up his hand, a smile still present on his face. "He is fine, thanks to your potion, quick thinking, and sacrifice," The blue eyes drifted to the bound wrist of the hand he still held. "Dobby and I made sure it was put both on the black spots and that he ingested it. He should come around in a few hours." When it seemed Harry was going to want to stay awake, the Headmaster moved him till he was lying flat once more. "You will also sleep; do not worry, I intend to stay and watch over you both." Dumbledore stalled further protests by tucking Harry in and brushing a kiss on his forehead, as any parent would their child. Now too sleepy to complain, Harry watched as the Headmaster drew a chair between the two couches and prepared to wait out the night, before he himself slipped off into (for once) peaceful dreams.
Some hours later, Harry woke to the mumbling of a soft voice. Feeling much stronger than he had before, the Gryffindor sat up and whispered a spell for the fire to once more light itself. The orange-red glow was absorbed by Dumbledore's hair and beard, giving it the auburn coloring it used to possess. The Headmaster did not notice; he was snoring softly, his body slumped in sleep. Harry rose from the couch and cast a simple levitation spell on his mentor, placing him on the couch. Someone should use it if Harry was not going to. Once he was more or less certain the man would be comfortable, he turned his attention to the mumbling Severus. Pulling the chair closer, he examined him. Someone (Dumbledore or Dobby) had dressed the man in black cotton pajamas and tucked him under a silver throw. Gently capturing one of the twitching hands, he pushed back the long sleeve to find no black splotches but new pink skin. He breathed a great sigh of relief and released the hand to shake the Potions Master's shoulder.
"Professor. Severus, time to wake up."
Whatever dreams held the man released him at Harry's command. The eyelids slowly raised and the Gryffindor was much relieved to find the dark orbs that reflected the man's soul like obsidian glass were no longer vacant as they had been. A slightly more healthy pallor had returned to the man's face, Harry was pleased to note. At first, the man did not notice him as if he were still trying to gather himself back to reality, but eventually the dark gaze met the emerald one. "Harry?" His voice was not much more than a whisper.
Harry gave him a small but very bright smile, all his relief and happiness at seeing the man better, present. "Yes, Severus, are you feeling better?"
Severus nodded before glancing slowly around the area. "How did we get to my rooms?" he asked, recognizing where he was even in the dark.
"I brought you down here after you were doused with the potion." Harry suddenly remembered something and levitated the Potions Master, turned him on his stomach and laid him back down.
"What are you doing?" The man demanded with hints of his old self showing through.
"The cauldron shards, I need to see if the Headmaster removed them." He raised the shirt to find bandages and after peeling one away, he concluded they had been removed and turned the man back over.
After much grumbling, Severus finally asked, "Why not Pomfrey?"
Harry cocked his head to the side, not understanding the question. "What?"
"You called Dumbledore," Severus said with uncommon patience, "Why not Pomfrey?"
Harry's eyes were diamond hard. "Because I know what she does to you," he whispered harshly.
The Potions Master went deathly pale. "What?"
"Dobby told me everything," Harry continued when he could contain his temper. "How could you let her do that to you, Severus; why do you let her hurt you?"
The dark eyes would not meet Harry's to hide...was that shame that Harry saw? "Do you not think I deserve it after all I've done?" Severus asked in forlorn tone, which scared Harry more than anything for he had never heard the man sound so alone. The Gryffindor grabbed one of the limp hands and gave it a squeeze. "NO! I do not and I will not stand idly by and watch one of my friends be hurt so. She will pay for what she has done to you, that much I can promise."
Now it was the Potions Master's turn to be confused. "Friend?"
"What did you think you were," Harry wondered sarcastically, "my worst enemy? I'm sorry, but that spot has been filled by Voldemort and I don't think he likes sharing." Severus scowled and Harry smirked.
"So damn arrogant," the dark-haired man growled.
Harry's smirk widened. "And proud of it."
The battle of wits continued for a moment before Severus turned serious. "Was I hit with Nazgulan?" Harry nodded. "But the only cure for that is the Mithrandas potion, and that requires the willing blood sacrifice of...a...friend..." Harry would not meet the man's eyes, but instead stared down at his bound wrist. Severus followed his gaze and breathed in sharply at the sight. "You..." he faltered. "You didn't..."
"I wasn't going to let you die, Severus," Harry said, finally meeting the man's eyes. "Not when there was something I could do about it." Silence stretched like a bowstring between them, each contemplating the other. Harry cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" he asked.
"Thirsty."
Harry disappeared and returned shortly with a glass of water. Severus gratefully drank the water and returned the glass with a brief "thank you." It was then that Severus's nose began to work properly, and he sneezed loudly three times. "Lord, Harry, you need a bath."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks so much for pointing that out Severus, I hadn't noticed," he returned in kind. Wrinkling his nose at the smell Severus pointed to one of the many doors in the room. "Through my bedroom is the bathroom; take a pair of my pajamas."
Startled by the offer, Harry did not move right away, but when Severus raised an eyebrow, he scrambled away to take a bath. He returned half an hour later, startling the Potions Master from his light doze. Seeing Harry, he could not resist a chuckle.
"You are a bit bigger than I am," the Gryffindor remarked innocently. He held out his arms; the sleeves extended past his hands three or four inches, the pant leg at least seven.
"Apparently," was all the man could manage without bursting into further laughter.
Harry gave him a sour look and sat down in the chair to roll them to the right length. "Now all I need is a bed," Harry said longingly.
"I'd offer you mine but I suspect you wish to watch over me like a mother hen as Albus does," Severus sneered.
Harry smiled crookedly. "Well , at least I know you're feeling better; your razor sharp wit is returning." He checked the forehead for fever. "But I would still feel better if you ate something, maybe cheese? How does that sound?"
Severus nodded. "Good, but you need some too."
Harry patted his rumbling stomach. "You'll be lucky if I don't eat it all before I get back," He told the other as he rose to go fetch their food; Severus grabbed his bound wrist, their eyes met.
"Willingly given?" Severus asked quietly.
Harry smiled gently and answered reassuringly, "Willingly given."
A small, almost indistinct smile formed on the Potions Master's face. "Thank you," he said then released him.
Harry nodded and hurried to small kitchen to hunt for their food. When he returned triumphant, his prize of a block of cheese in his hand, he found a bed where the chair had been. He blinked for a moment before heading to the couch and shaking Severus awake. "You should not be performing magic yet," Harry scolded.
"What are you talking about?" Severus demanded. Harry pointed to the bed he now sat on. "I didn't do that!"
A sudden sleepy snort reminded them they were not alone in the room. They turned to see the Headmaster facing away from them, snoring gently. Had he been doing that the entire time, Harry wondered, or had he been awake?
Severus muttered "Barmy old codger," under his breath. Both the student and teacher almost fell over when a sleepy, "Why thank you, Severus," was his answer. Harry almost choked on his cheese as he began to laugh and Severus rolled his eyes but his gaze was affectionate as it fell upon the older man. When their snack was done, Harry lay down on the bed, happy with its comfort and drew the golden cover over him.
"Goodnight, my friend," he wished as he dropped off to sleep. Severus watched him for a bit after that, marveling at this person who would see him as more that just a "greasy git" or "slimy bastard." Did he deserve the friendship? Likely not but he would not forsake it when so willingly offered.
"Goodnight...my friend."
***THE END***
A/N: I would like to do a small sequel to tell what happened to Pomfrey and Umbridge, should I? Do you all like it? Please tell me!
To Vinnie: The names of the potions come from Lord of the Rings. I was reading it while writing this and lets just say it influenced it. Theoden=Theodan. Nazgul=Nazgulan. Mithrandir=Mithrandas