Please don't hurt me, my Angst Muse made me do it. What's a good story without bits of sadness? They'll get happy, I promise, really they will...eventually...
Ok, I don't really own these guys, but the errors are still mine, you leave them alone. You can read them over, you can tell me about them, but you can't keep them...Aw Go ahead, take 'em, I've got plenty.
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Cradled in Familiarity: Chapter 2- Reviving Romantic Poets
Silence. Silence thundered in the Great Hall. The majority of students' eyes were left on the enormous doors that Harry and company had just left. Other eyes strayed to the blood splattered table cloth of the teachers' and the crimson streak on the stone floor in front of it, both left by their feared and hated Professor Snape. Strong emotions streamed through the student body. Fear, horror, disbelief, shock. Unfortunately for the remaining instuctors, all of these hit at once. The silence shattered.
First years were wailing, looking for their upperclassmen's support. Sixth years were weeping, falling into friends' arms, trying to comfort one another. Seventh years played the stone of foundation, alaying the youngers' fears and preparing to return to the dormitories. The professors still gaped, still trying to process the events of the night. Their potions master...and You-Know-Who...and he'd just...impossible.
Whispering started, spoken fears and questions, requests for reassurement, comments on the causes of the shields failure, but mostly of Professor Snape. Few were concerned for him, only appalled that someone had taken pleasure in that, in pain, in Snape. Histeria gave way as students joked about it. They mocked him to relieve their own burden, nervous laughter ensueing.
"Well, we always did wonder where he went off to."
"Now we know what he was doing all those Hogsmead weekends he was gone for."
"For Merlin's sake, we could see his, his-his extremities."
"Not only is the man a greasy git and a nasty teacher, he exposes himself, in front of 1st years no less."
"Hasn't the man got any dignity, he just let You-Know-Who whatever he pleased, didn't fight a bit."
Neville gaped. How could his classmated behave like this. The man had just been tortured. 'The man is near death and all they do is laugh. I thought I had it bad with the occational snicker and his snarking at me in potions, but, but this is just inhuman. Why don't they worry, don't they care? He's still our Professor.' Neville clenched his fist and ground his teeth together in a heroic attempt to hold his tears at bay. Certainly he wasn't the most caring person in the world, but he didn't deserve this treatment from his own students. Even those from his own Slytherin house were joining in.
Seamus didn't fall in with the nervous laughter, not even to hide his own fearful expression. He could understand how they'd want to find some way to cope with the Dark Lord's appearence, but he didn't have to participate. Better they let off some tension than break down for long days were surely ahead of them. Seamus was not one to put off the inevadable. A great war was surely to follow this little show of power. 'Are we ready for this? Can we stand against him? Surely Dumbledore has a plan, a secret weapon. Maybe he's powerful enough on his own. He's got to have something, I mean, Who-Know-Who is afraid of him and all. Oh, bloody hell, where's Hagrid?'
Hagrid was trying to console a dozen second years with a hug, nearly succeeding. Students were beginning to calm, realising they couldn't all sleep in the Great Hall. Head Boys and Head Girls gathered them up, and, with the teachers' aide, started off to bed. No one expected to sleep, only to be in bed when the exhastion caught up with them. The gameskeeper coaxed the last few frightened first years into line with their friends and ran his fingers through his beard. Turning to leave, he nearly stepped on a very angry Neville Longbottom. He put a meaty hand on the boy's shoulder, "Neville, lad, we got ta' get ya' off ta' bed now. It'll all look better in tha' mornin', promise."
Neville tried to blink his tears away as he faced the gameskeeper. "How can they laugh at him like that? I mean, I know Snape isn't, well, he's not very nice, but how can't they say those things about him?"
The half giant let out a sigh. "Well, ya' know it's been a rough night for ev'ryone. Some can just handle it all better than others, see? Lad, you're one of the tougher ones, not letting You-Know-Who turn ya' against your teachers, or your friends for that matter. You're not alone, Ron and Hermione won't let this get to them. You can bet they'll be workin' hard with Dumbledore and that. Cheer up, lad, we'll make it."
Neville's mouth was open. That was a rather lengthy speech from the gameskeeper, not bad either. 'He's right, or course. No sense in giving in to them, or to Him. If Harry can fight him, so can I...I hope.'
Harry kept his wand hovering over the still form of his floating lover. With the assorted professors in tow, he led the way to the infermary. The odd footfalls of educators trying to keep up echoed in the empty hallway along with Ron's curses. The morose menagerie filed in, single line, guiding their patient's body over a standard hospital bed. Harry gently lowered Severus from the stretcher to the bed, careful not to jolt so much as a hair. Tears still blurring his eyes, he lowered his wand and stepped back, prepared to let Madam Pomfrey do her work.
His Severus looked so vulnerable, so helpless, so-so broken. 'How could I have let my Sev go through all of this alone. He looks so terrible. Oh, Severus, how can I ever make it up to you, letting you be alone with Him for all this time. Sev, love, don't leave me here.' Harry staggered backwards, pulling his arms around himself. 'I need you with me, I don't want to be alone either.' He let his tears run down his cheeks and backed into something solid, a wall. 'Please come back.'
Pomfrey was in her element. Running diagnostic spells, fetching potions, applying salves, directing cleansing charms, avoiding healthy bodies, and the talent Harry most appreciated, keeping her face neutral. But that alone did nothing to console him. The number of potions she was gathering to the bedside table was alarming and the spells were all trying to get her attention, telling her exactly how many ailments Snape was suffering from.
Dumbledore was standing at the bed's foot, reading the mediwitch's spells and raising his eyebrows. Sprout was shadowing Pomfrey, following each of her steps, asking what she could do. McGonagall stood beside the Headmaster, clicking her tongue and stealing glances at Harry. Hermione and Ron had curtained themselves off from the event. The redhead appeared to be trying to muscle his way past her. She stood her ground, furiously whispering something that made him stand still. Their conversation ensued until the brunette sighed and let her shoulders drop in defeat. 'Mione threw back the curtain and strode up to Harry. Harry remained slumped against the wall, eyes on his lover, not acknoledging her presence. She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face her, "Harry, what is your relationship with Snape exactly?"
Harry tilted his head up enough to look at her. 'Mione took in his appearence. His eyes were wide, frightened, and full of tears, his cheeks were wet, his nose was running, his shoulders were tense, his lips were trembling, he had the most worried, terrified expression she'd ever seen, and his gaze kept straying to the unmoving man on the bed...'Surely not. He can't have...not with Snape, they despised each other. Though, they say that love and hate are seperated by a fine line. I thought I saw Snape smile at him, I thought I was halucinating. Oh! That's why Harry was so fidgity, Snape was gone and Harry couldn't go looking for him, not without everyone finding out about them. Oh Harry.' Her face softened with her realization, her iron grip melting into a supportive hand. 'Mione jumped as she heard a startled shout.
Poppy had finally turned on Professor Sprout, "If you don't stop treading on my heels this instant I will be forced to hex you into next week." Sprout was quite put off. She stood a moment, with her hands on her generous hips, then turned to Harry.
"Harry, very good of you to help us bring him down here dear boy. My, my, just look at him. Poor, poor man, just look at all that blood." Harry's stuck his bottom lip between his teeth, attempting to stifle a moan of dispair. "I can't imagine what they did to him, all that time away from Hogwarts, what an absolute nightmare."
Hermione's jaw dropped, 'of all the absolute imbiciles to talk to Harry, and she's completely oblivious too!' She stepped between Harry and Sprout, effectively, if rudely, cutting of further insensitive observations from the woman, "Harry, look at me. Professor Snape has lived through this, I doubt that he'll let himself be defeated now." Still gnawing on his trapped lip, Harry turned back towards the bed. She grabbed his sleeve, giving it a tug to emphasize her last argument. He focused his teary eyes on her determined face. "He's stubborn enough to keep on living, you know that."
'Oh Merlin, she knows. I let it slip. Our secret is out. Everyone must have figured it out because I had to run to him.' Harry groaned, 'It's not like I made a difference, I mean, Dumbledore was there and all. And now eveyone knows. Oh Sev, what have I done. What can I do?'
"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?" Harry shook his head in quick jerky movements. "Harry, you could be going into shock, I think you should rest. Should I get you some chocolate, it's good for shock as well as Dementors, probably for the same reason. I mean, I suppose Dementors are a bit of a shock, maybe thats why-" Harry, who had been trying to follow her thoughts, swayed on his feet before falling backwards onto an unoccupied bed, "-Oh Harry! Just sit tight, don't get up."
Professor Sprout, who had been monitoring Pomfrey's progress from afar, moved to stand by Harry. "Perhaps you should get back to bed Harry, I'm sure you don't want to stay up all night with a torture victim. All this blood is going to give you nightmares." Harry looked up, face torn between confusion, sorrow, and rage. No one, especially the victim's young lover, should be informed of the blood and pain involved in torture, and certainly not when the vitim is still struggling to live. "We should get someone to contact his relatives." Another callous comment from the clueless peanut galary. The Roman's never did know excatly who deserved being lion bait. Who on earth let the woman in here. Surely someone knew she'd get in the way, that she'd traumatize the students, cause a comotion, distract the nurse.
Ron chose that moment to approach, a glower gracing his face, fists clenched and held stiffly at his sides. Ron glared down at Harry, "Harry...mate...escatly what were you doing back there." Harry stared at his friends face blankly, anguish temporarily forgotten. He had no idea what the red-head was refering to. Ron clenched his teeth as he continued, "What I mean-I meant-What the bloody hell were you doing running to that greasy git's side? What were you petting his face for?" Oh Merlin. "What the fuck is going on?" His best friend was homophobic. Harry buried his face in his hands, seeking refuge from, well, from existance. Hermione and Sprout started to scold Ron, one because of his language, one because of his heartless attitude. Ron spat back more scathing comments, officially starting a shout-off.
'Oh hell. Severus is hurt because I didn't have the courage to look for him. Hermione knows that Sev and I are together because I had to be the bloody hero, I had to be at his side. Dumbledore probably knows too. This will be sent back to the Dursleys and Merlin knows how they'll treat me now. Beatings galore, less food, more chores, insults, bruises. And Severus, Severus will be fired, I know it. The headmaster couldn't possible keep him, even if he wanted to. Kids were scared of him enough without having to add in the possibility of being snogged by Snape. And Ron...oh Ron, do you even know how much this hurts. My best mate turning on me because I like blokes, throwing me out because I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived you thought I was. Why can't you all just bugger off. I never asked you to approve of me. All I wnat is some peace and quiet...and Severus. I want my Severus back.'
Hot tears ran down his cheeks, colliding with his hands. He could hear voices. Ron, 'Mione, and Professor Sprout were in a heated argued over who was causing what disturbance and who is qualified enough to stay. Harry stood abruptly, leaving the wet streaks his tears left. He kept his head down, eyes hidden from view, and spoke, voice filled with a quiet rage, "Get out." Sprout furrowed her brow. "Get out." 'Mione put a hand on her hip and looked to Ron. Harry's hands balled into fists. His magic, his aura changed. It was forceful and suffocating. He roughly shoved Ron into the other two. All three looked disbelieving, unsure of what he had just said.
Harry's hair stood on end, his eyes burned an emerald flame. They could see his magic surrounding him, dancing around him like fire. His mouth drew back in a snarl, "All of you, leave! You have no place here." He advanced, stalking towards them menacingly. "You have no right to behave like this, so-just leave us alone! Get your selfish arses away from me!" It was unheard of to see such a display of strength. Though the headmaster surely possesed such skills, he didn't show them off. The three accused were literally choking on his aura. They could feel his sorrow and his anger. They scrambled towards the door, the first wise decision they'd made yet. Harry sighed as they left, unaware of what he had done. He staggered backwards until he hit the stone wall, emotionally exhasted. All he wanted was to help his lover, to have him back in his arms, to see him laugh again. He slid down into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around his knees and hiding his face.
Dumbledore still stood at the foot of Severus bed, passively observing the boy's display. He looked to Pomfrey. She had already set Severus up on a wizard's IV, a parody of the muggles' invention, allowing doctors to give their patients potions as opposed to drugs. She had given him an internal healing potion, something to aid the recovery of injuries beneath the skin. She was just about to set the bones in his legs back to their rightful place when Harry addressed her, "His fingers first."
Pomfrey stopped and looked at the boy huddled in the corner, words muffled by his arms, "What was that?"
He maneuvered his mouth away from his sleeves, "Set his fingers first. Sev needs them to do his potions work. He'd rather be able to do potions than walk. He'd never forgive me if he had to give up his work." That wasn't exactly true. Harry recalled a sweet memory of Severus who had said himself, "Nothing could ever make me stop loving you. Not You-Know-Who, not Dumbledore, not even you. You're stuck with me until eternity finds its resting place, forever burdened with my arms around your waist-" he embraced Harry, "-my lips on your lips-" a chaste kiss, "-my affection consuming your heart." Harry had risen on his toes to kiss the poet, "How can I resist you when you talk so pretty to me." Sev could resist no more than Harry could for he had swept the young wizard into his arms and made off to the bedroom with him. It had been one loving night of many, a cherished moment for both. Harry smiled sadly, lowering his head back into the nest of his arms.
Pomfrey hovered over the battered legs and looked to Dumbledore for confirmation. The headmaster nodded, then whispered, "Poopy, will Severus be alright?" Pomfrey nearly gaped at how childlike he sounded. She didn't look up from her work of straightening Seve- no- her patients elegent digits. She chose her words carefully, knowing their meaning could, and probably would, hurt the man.
"He is...badly hurt. A muggle would have been killed, but he has his magic to help him protect and heal, but his magic is drained and one can only hold out so long. If he were to live, permanent damage is nearly certain. Harry has the right idea, prioritizing his injuries, we may have to pick and choose what to heal. Internal injuries are first because they're life threatening. I can't give him any other potions until those have made their way through him, but I'm afraid that the potions won't help him in time. His magic is to weak to aide him anymore. He-" She paused her work and closed her eyes, "...he may not survive this Albus."
Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and sighed, bowing his head in defeat, "I understand Poppy. Not even you can save everyone." Dumbledore gazed at Harry's small form huddled on the floor, "I only hope that we can save Harry. He seems to be taking it harder than the rest of us." He took a step towards the boy, intending to get him into his bed. Albus shook his shoulder, trying to wake him, "Harry, Harry, dear boy, get up." Harry fell onto his side. He wasn't sleeping, he was unconscience. The old wizard stretched out his hand to touch the boy's aura. Most of it seemed thin and diluted, but the nearer to his hand the magic was, the thicker it covered him. A thread of it was sprouting from his digits. He followed the thread- starting at the fingertips- through the air- angling up- and stopping where it connected to Severus. Harry was feeling his magic to Severus, giving him the strength to recover...but at what cost to himself. Giving away bits of magic was like giving away bits of your life, of your soul. You couldn't hand it over to someone without consequences, not without some sort of bond anyway. But, besides the lack of energy, Harry seemed to be fine. This was something to ponder over a cup of tea. Now that his Potions Professor had some help, he had no doubt that both of them would be fine.
Albus picked Harry up, giving a yip when his bad hip gave him a warning jolt. "Poppy, I think that if you set the rest of his bones, we can leave Severus be for the night. We should all get some rest." He carried the small form back to his professor's side, plopping him onto the nearest bed and covering him with it's sheet. If the boy was unconscience then he couldn't work himself to death. His magic would stop before that happened.
"Albus, you know I can't just leave him like this. If I don't do all I can then he'll die, he can't make it on his own."
The wizened wizard smiled softly, "Dear child, he's not alone. Haven't you noticed? Young Potter is helping him, he's replentishing Severus' lost magic. If you set his skeleton right, we can let Harry help him heal and we can get some rest. We'll have much to plan for."
The mediwitch quickly confirmed his observation and let out a sigh of relief. She frowned and gave the headmaster a dissapproving head shake for letting her worry. Dumbledore tucked Harry in, cast a warming spell on the room to keep the two from chilling, and followed Madame Pomfrey out the door.
Harry rolled in his sleep, nearly falling off the bed. He reached an arm out into empty space, searching for -something-. His sleep numbed mouth formed the word, "Severus" before he let his arm drop back to his side.
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Er...I felt bad 'bout not postin' for a while...a long while...so, even though I'm not satisfied with it yet, I'll post this chapt...Now that I know people are depending on me to finish a story, that they want me to get to work, that they need the power I hold, the power to CREATE! Whahahaha, I have the power to manipulate these characters in whatever way I want, I am-in-control. Kneel! before my awsome strength! Muwahahahaha...
Yes'sir, Yes ma'am, I'll get back to work...
YaoS
PostScript: E-mail me, I need attention, I need love, I need to know that you're not all dead. Lookin' for a Beta(sorta)Someone that I can rely on for commentary, criticism, and snacks. Well, 2 of the 3 anyway. I'd prefer a slacker like myself, so they can't complain that I don't do any work...'cause I don't like to be yelled at. No one does. Words can hurt to people : (...-
Another Script Post to Chapter: Do you guys like when authors post gratitude to the commenters? I don't read 'em on others' stories 'cause I only get 1/2 of the conversation. If you want, I post stuff...or just e-mail you back...er...yeah...discuss amongst yourselves, Hope you enjoy my Fic
