Round 9: for QLFC

Beater 2 for Pride of Portree

Shakespeare Play I'm Riffing: Hamlet

Prompts: (word) burning, (word) feather

Warning: this is a super AU (naturally), but I'm keeping to each character as best I can to avoid OOCness.

Emo Harry and the Unfairness of Life and Stuff

Harry Potter was certain that he would never be happy again. As he sat and looked out over the moor ahead of him, he pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders though it did nothing to protect him from the freezing cold.

"Harry, let's go into the tent! It's freezing!" Ron chattered, casting a Warming Charm until Harry felt as though his cheeks were burning.

"Not until I see it. You told me that this is where it shows up." Harry replied dismally, pressing his black bangs over his eyes.

Somehow, it seemed right, all things considered, since nothing would ever be right again.

In the end, it was Hermione who had gone back in time with the Time Turner and fixed everything before it needed to be fixed without telling anyone what she was planning to do. She was much older than he was, now, though he still had dual memories, as did Ron. Without Voldemort and his evil minions, both of his parents (as well as countless others) had survived and now he had all manner of memories of them, though he was still leery of Uncle Peter for no discernable reason in this timeline. Just as soon as he thought that all would be well, that he would be able to enjoy his final year of school, he'd received an urgent owl just before Christmas break from his mother. His father had apparently met with a terrible accident and drowned upon the moor near the Potter's ancestral manor home.

Of course, Harry had returned home to find that his mother had not told him everything in her letter.

"Son, please sit down," she'd said, smoothing her fine brown robes and looking at him in that anxious manner that made him feel as though a feather was twisting in his chest. "I need to talk to you about your father and I… things haven't been very good between us for the past few years. Oh, who am I kidding? It's been bad for a long, long time. We both love you, sweetheart, but we… we were young and stupid. We weren't thinking it through. But, as you know, wizarding marriage is forever. So, we've been sleeping on separate sides of the Manor for the past couple of years and… well… keeping up appearances while you were home, which, to be honest, hasn't been all that much. After all, we know how you love hanging out with your friends at the Weasley estate and Malfoy Manor."

It was true. Hermione had helped Molly and Arthur secure a nice estate and given them pointers on just enough in the way of investments to grow their savings to a nice size. This way, they were able to give their children the best at school though they were never really wealthy, per-se. This had done wonders for Ron's self-esteem and, though being the seventh son in a family was rather draining at times, he didn't have as much of a problem with it as he had in his previous timeline.

And without a father obsessed with Pure-blooded supremacy, Draco had turned out to be an all-right sort, though he was still prone to being overly proud and acting haughty about his new toys, since his father had no qualms spoiling his only child. Strangely enough, Draco and Ginny had become best friends though she was a year younger than he was, and he'd practically become her eighth brother after a time. They were always off having adventures exploring the countryside or enjoying themselves in the little wizarding villages during the summers. They often didn't get home until it was time for bed, or they needed to owl someone's parents to get permission for an impromptu sleepover.

Truth be told, though Harry loved his mother and father, he'd been spending so much time away from them that he hadn't really noticed or cared that their smiles never reached their eyes when they looked at one another, or that they hadn't even held hands, much less kissed or hugged one another in recent memory. But all of this made Harry feel worse than ever when he thought about how he hadn't even hugged his father, who was always off with Sirius, Peter and Remus on some "fishing trip" or "retreat" whenever he came home. Sure, he loved his dad, but he really hadn't seen the man for months.

And now, he never would.

"It was an accident, Harry," his mother was saying gently, as he looked at the floor, "A terrible accident. But,as Dumbledore himself says, maybe it happened for a reason."

Harry's head snapped up, and he stared defiantly into his mother's eyes, which were the same vibrant green as his own.

"You can't mean that, Mum!" he cried.

"I didn't wish James dead," she replied, her face flushed as she tried to backpedal. "I just..I wanted to be free."

Harry didn't want to ask her, but he did anyway because he needed to know.

"Free to do what, Mum?" he replied, feeling the tears building in the corners of his eyes.

"Free to find love again," she replied gently. "I will miss James, but I've had years to move on, and so has he. And I need to be happy, sweetheart, it's been so long since I've been happy."

Harry gulped, feeling nausea rising in his throat. His father hadn't been buried for more than a week, and his mother was already talking about new love? He wanted to slap her.

"Who is it, then?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing. "Uncle Sirius? Uncle Remus? Uncle...Peter?"

None of the Marauders had ever married. Harry wasn't surprised, but now he wondered if there had been a reason for that. Good lord, maybe his mother was seeing all three of them. Harry wasn't sure if he could handle knowing this for certain, but he bit his tongue and resolved to hear her out.

"Actually, none of them," his mother replied with a small chuckle and he bristled.

How dare she?!

"You probably know him already, but…" she trailed off as she looked behind Harry. "Ah, here he is now."

"Ah, yes, if it isn't Harry Potter," a drawling voice spoke as Harry turned and paled, his worst fears confirmed.

"Harry, please say hello to my new husband," Lily said, smiling brightly, "My childhood friend, Severus Snape."

The man himself stood as tall and imposing as ever over Harry, a sneer upon his face that he pulled back to reveal a rather ghastly smile. He was wearing his usual black robes, which seemed to Harry an almost mocking gesture in the face of his father's death, seeing as the bad blood between his father and Snape had never exactly cleared.

"It is such a pity that poor James did not realize that stags are not known for their...aquatic performance," Snape said, with an exaggerated flourish of his hand as he bowed down, "But, in the end, the fates have worked out in a way, for I have been blessed with your mother's devotion and love. Though, I fear, fate did not offer the same for your father, Merlin rest his soul."

Something about how his black eyes crinkled as he spoke made Harry's stomach clench with rage. Snape was laughing at him! Humiliating him! And in his own family house! He glanced back at his mother feeling nauseous. She was no better! She was sharing a bed with him! Doing...things...with the greasy git!

It was disgusting, that's what it was. And just like that, Harry knew, somehow, that Snape had something to do with his father's sudden death.

And so that was the reason why he'd trekked out with Ron, Ginny and Draco to try and catch a glimpse of his father's Patronus on the moor. There'd been more than one sighting of the ethereal creature, and it was rumored to have begun to speak before running off or dissipating into nothingness.

"C'mon Harry," Ron said, grasping his friend by the shoulder. "My fingers are about to fall off!"

"No, wait." Harry stood, taking a step forward.

"Blimey, Harry, is that-?!" Ron's eyes went wide, and he stood as well, backing up instead of going forward like his friend.

The silver stag bounded over the marshy expanse and landed on the muddy shore, mere feet away from the two young men. Then it turned and began to bound back over the moorland in the dark, waiting and turning as though expecting Harry to follow.

"I must follow it, Ron! It's like the doe in the woods from before!" Harry said excitedly.

"Normally, I'd be right with you, Harry," Ron said cautiously, grabbing Harry's sleeve, "But this is the very place your father drowned and it's both dark and cold out. You could slip in and die! I will not have your death on my conscience!"

Harry grabbed his sleeve away and scowled.

"It's not your place to tell me what to do, Ronald!" he snarled, "I want to find out the truth about my father's death, and that's what I'm going to do!"

Calling up a light to the tip of his wand, Harry began to chase the stag, stepping where it stepped to avoid deep places in the sticky, low tide. He vaguely heard the shouts of Ron and Draco behind him as they tried to follow, but he ignored them.

Finally, the stag turned and stared at him, its mouth opening as a whispery voice erupted from where it stood.

"Harry, if this message reaches you, it means that I am dead and terrible things are about to happen. I must tell you something of grave importance, quickly, before the worst comes to pass. You see, your fears are not unfounded. I was murdered. By a foul serpent who laid me low and has stolen all that is precious to me."

"Snape! It was him! He murdered you, didn't he?" Harry hissed, his eyes flashing with anger.

The stag did not reply but waited a moment before speaking again. "He stole her away from me with his sweet words and his offers of love. Bah! He never loved her the way that I did! And what's worse, is that he prepared the poison to render me immobile and then pushed me into the water to drown!"

Harry's heart constricted for a moment as he absorbed all of this, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. In a moment, he knew what he must do.

"I shall avenge your death, Father," he sniffed, pulling his wand out and holding it aloft. "I swear on my wand that I shall."

"My son, I only wish that I could embrace you once more," the stag said, its eyes appearing to shimmer with tears of their own, "but I know that there are some things that shall never come to pass, no matter how much we wish that they were so."

"Father…" Harry's broken, hiccuping sobs felt as though they had no end, and he was hollow with grief.

"Please… remember me, Harry," the stag said. "Swear to me that you will do what must be done—what I cannot do in my sorry state."

"Yes, yes!" Harry cried, "I swear! By the stars and the moon and Merlin's beard, I swear it!"

"Remember…." the stag whispered a final time before it dissipated altogether.

"Harry!" Ron gasped, leaning forward to catch his breath as Draco shot through the sky behind him on his broom. "There you are! We were terrified you'd fallen into the water or come to a horrible end of some sort! Good lord, Harry, was that what I thought it was? And did I hear it speak to you?"

"Oh, Ron," Harry said, his eyes fixated on the spot where the stag had stood as he dabbed the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, "There are more things in heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. You saw it too, didn't you?"

"Was that your father's Patronus?" Draco asked, slicking back his hair with one hand as he landed on the muddy ground with a wince as his new boots sunk in half an inch.

"Yes, and I must ask you not to tell anyone what you've seen," Harry replied, his eyes wide and intense. "In fact, I know it sounds like I'm overreacting, but I want you both to take a Wizarding Oath."

"Harry," Ron said, "I swear I won't tell, but an Oath is a bit much, don't you think?"

Draco set his jaw for a moment but then nodded. "Ron, it's as he says— this is between Harry and his father. It really isn't our place to blurt anything out that isn't our business."

"Then you'll swear? The both of you?" Harry replied, relief washing over his face as he grasped Draco's hands in his own.

"Sure, mate," Ron said a little huffily as he threw his arm in over Draco's, "If Draco's game, then so am I."

And as the magic swirled over their linked arms and Harry spoke the terms of the Oath, he knew that neither of his friends would speak of this night, even if it meant their deaths.

And as they all piled onto Draco's broom and slowly flew back to the tent, Harry's mind raced as he thought of the perfect punishment for an adulterous wench like his mother and a murdering snake like Severus Snape.

For now he knew for certain that they both would have to pay.