Warning: psychological and physical child abuse.

Chapter 2-What the Future Holds

Severus lifted Harry's limp form off the couch and carried him easily to his bed. The boy still never ate enough. Severus used to try to force nutrition potions down his throat, but after the fourth panic attack, he'd given up on even that. Harry stirred restlessly, muttering under his breath something that sounded like Dursley. He just sighed, pulling the covers up and over Harry's frame, leaving his feet uncovered to give him the illusion of being able to escape easily.

With a flick of his wand, he left a note on the bedside table saying he'd be at the infirmary before he slipped back out of his private chambers. He'd really only come to make sure the boy went to sleep; most nights Harry wouldn't even bother to close his eyes unless there was someone else there.

Lucius was waiting for him when he arrived at the infirmary. His long platinum blonde hair hanging loose around his face in that way Narcissa had always despised though Severus couldn't ever help but admire. He roughly shoved away the emotion before it could show in his eyes and focused on Lucius. His face was tight with worry, the lines around his face more prominent than the last time Severus had seen him. He winced internally when he thought of what exactly The Dark Lord had done to Lucius because of his failure. When Severus thought of what he could have done to prevent it.

"When will he wake?" Lucius asked, his pale eyes landing on Severus with all the emotion of ice.

"Not till morning at least."

"Why is Potter here?"

"Dumbledore prefers to keep him close," he answered. Lucius raised one pale eyebrow and he knew it was safer to change the subject than face those knowing eyes. "What happened?"

"Why does it matter?" Lucius answered, turning his face away as if to study the plated glass of a nearby window. "Narcissa is dead and Draco is…" He trailed off, clearing his throat after a moment as if that had been his intention all along.

"Why did The Dark Lord come after you?" Severus insisted. "I never assumed you would turn against him."

"No, I try to leave the heroics up to you" Lucius chuckled humorlessly then sighed. "He wanted Draco to become a Death Eater. He wanted him to enter the school and attempt to kill Dumbledore himself," Lucius' gaze flipped back to meet Severus'. "I may have been a terrible person in the past, Severus, but I refuse to contemn my son to death because of my failures," Lucius chuckled again, and it was rimmed with the edge of hysteria this time. "Though I seem to have fated him to something worse than death."

"And Narcissa?"

"I'm not sure," Lucius' eyes flickered, and Severus knew he was lying though he said nothing as Lucius continued. "By the time I was downstairs, Greyback and Narcissa were both dead and Draco was laying on the floor like-," Lucius stopped suddenly, turning fully away from Severus as if he couldn't bear the thought of anyone looking on him in his moment of weakness.

Severus' hand itched to rise and touch him. He wished he could say something, anything that would make Lucius feel better. But Severus had never been good at comforting and Lucius had never been good at being comforting. Besides, Lucius didn't want his comfort, that much was obvious in the way he turned his face away, in the way he lied when he could have told the truth—if he trusted Severus. So, he did what he always did, Severus ignored Lucius' pain and refused to feel regret about what they could have been.

"I should check on Draco," he said.

"Yes, of course," Lucius answered, stepping aside to let Severus into the infirmary. He swept in, heading for Draco's bed with Lucius on his heels. Draco was on his back, the blood-stained clothes he'd arrived in gone, replaced by a crisp white button up and slacks. His throat was covered in thick white bandages extending partway down his chest.

Greyback had ripped into Draco's chest and throat. The cuts across his chest were deep, and though he would carry the scars with him the rest of his life, they were relatively mild. It was the wound along his neck that was truly concerning to Severus. The wound in and of itself wasn't terrible-there wouldn't be any lasting damage aside from the scaring-it was the fact that Greyback had been transformed when he had bitten Draco. It was a full moon, and Fenrir Greyback hadn't just bitten Draco once but multiple times. Draco didn't stand a chance; he would transform on the next full moon.
_

He was about 10 years-old. Though he could never be exactly sure of his age since the Dursley's refused to tell him when his birthday was. They said it was need to know and the only things he needed to know were how to cook them food and clean their floors. By that time, he'd given up asking about his parents too. He'd get a different answer every time he asked. If Petunia was in a good mood, she'd tell him they'd died in a car crash or a plane accident or something equally mundane. If she was in a bad mood, she'd screech at him to get back to work. While Vernon almost always told him, his parents had dropped dead because of his freakishness.

He didn't have much of an argument against the verbal abuse the Dursleys continually threw at him. He was freakish, as the other children in his school made a habit of informing him. His only true friends were the garden snakes around the house. He'd learned he could speak to snakes when he was probably 5. It had been after Vernon had slapped him across the face, leaving a large red print and sending him to the floor. That had been the first time Vernon had hit him, but it had been far from the last.

He had run out to the garden, tears in his eyes but somehow refusing to let them fall down his face. He knew how Vernon and Petunia hated it when he cried. Then something had slithered over his foot, making him jump and look down at the snake twisting itself around his leg.

"What are you doing?" He had asked and for some reason, hadn't been surprised when it had answered back.

Years later, Petunia had been horror struck when she realized he was talking to the snakes in her garden. That had been his first real beating. Vernon had dragged him upstairs to Dudley's playroom by his hair, probably hoping to elicit some sound of pain from him, though he refused to oblige him in such a way. Then Vernon had punched him once, sending him to the floor before proceeding to kick him. He remembered passing out halfway through and then waking up with bandages wrapped around his torso and voices in the kitchen.

"Did you have to be so rough," Petunia'd been gripping. "Now we won't get any use out of him for a while." He'd turned his head into the pillow, muffling Vernon's reply. He had been about 8 years-old, and he'd known more about cooking, cleaning, and talking to snakes then he knew about math, making friends, and playing with toys, but he couldn't help thinking it was worth it in the end. At least he knew what it was like to have a real friend. At least he knew this wasn't the way life was supposed to be lived.

Now he was almost 11. He had to be, he could feel the change in his bones. He wasn't exactly sure what it meant but he knew that something was coming.

As if on que, the letter addressed to him slipped through the mail slot and dropped in front of him. For the first time in his life, he felt hope soar through him.

Harry woke with a twist of his lips and a flutter of his eyes, trying desperately not to remember his dream. Sometimes they weren't too bad and then sometimes they were Earth shattering. Finally, he managed to open his eyes into Severus' dimly lit private rooms. Severus was gone, which didn't necessarily surprise him. Unless Harry was screaming in his sleep these days, Severus didn't usually stay.

He spotted the note in the next second and then dismissed it from his mind. He wasn't about to go to the infirmary, not unless Severus really needed him. He sighed, flipping the covers off himself. Nor was he going back to sleep however. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, which meant trekking up to Gryffindor tower. Technically, where he was supposed to be staying anyway.

Harry flicked his wand to edit the message on Severus' bedside to tell him where to find Harry before leaving. Severus pretended stoicism, but he'd thrown one too many fits about Harry disappearing without a word for it to be believable. Harry crossed the dungeon and started up the stairs. He'd just left the dungeons when the voice sounded from behind him. He'd been steadily ignoring the portrait's complaining, refusing to put out his light as he plotted down the endless hallways and up the moving stairways. He would have doused his wand, though, if he'd known anyone else was patrolling tonight.

"Potter," McGonagall's voice sounded from behind him. "What are you doing up this time of night?"

"Couldn't sleep," He answered, not bothering to turn. Maybe if he didn't really acknowledge her, she'd let him leave faster.

"Potter," McGonagall's voice rang with annoyance. "Look at me when you speak, please." He sighed but did as asked.

"Of course, Professor." He said. Her lips pressed together, but she didn't say anything about his obvious sarcasm.

"Severus didn't stay with you tonight?" She asked. "I've heard what happened to the Malfoys."

"Yes, tragic." Harry answered automatically, and McGonagall's lips tightened even further.

"Come have a cup of tea with me," she ordered. "Perhaps it will help you sleep," he didn't answer as she led the way up the stairs and into her office, gesturing him into the chair across from her desk. "Sugar?" she asked, hovering over the teapot in the corner.

"I have no preference."

"Very well," she sighed, pouring two cups of tea and handing one to him. He immediately set his down on the edge of her desk and locked his hands together in his lap. She sighed again but just sat across from him, her own tea steaming in her hands. "Did you see Draco?"

"Yes."

"And how did he look?"

"Bad," he said, pulling his hands apart and then back together again and wishing she'd just let him leave. If he really wanted to know about Draco Malfoy, he was hardly the right person to be asking. She obviously wanted him here for something else. But then that was always the way, wasn't it? People pretended friendliness when they really just wanted something.

"Does Severus know if the boy will turn yet?"

"No." There was a beat and Harry realized he'd answered too quickly. But he really didn't know the answer to her question.

"Harry, relax." McGonagall said, eyeing him warily. He started like a frightened animal and then made a show of relaxing the tension from his shoulders. This always made people believe he was comfortable in their presence even though it was nothing more than a guise. The only one who had ever seen through the trick had been Severus.

"...suppose you've avoided the infirmary completely." McGonagall was saying. Harry just looked at her, twirling his hands together. "Ah, well, I don't blame you," she continued when it was clear he wouldn't answer what wasn't a question. "And how have you been?"

"Fine."

"Oh, and how comes your Animagus transformations?"

"Fine."

"Harry," she scolded. "It's in your best interest to tell me of your studies."

"I'm still studying my form." He answered, clenching his jaw against the insults he could hurl her way. It was never in his best interest to ask someone else for help. "There's really nothing else to say." The only person who had been tested and not been found wanting was Severus and Harry didn't even trust him with all his secrets.

"Very well," she sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. "Perhaps you should try and sleep for a few more hours." He stood without a word, wanting to run from her office but knowing what Severus would say to that. Once the door to her office was shut, he took off down the hallway, heading straight across instead of up to Gryffindor tower. He needed to be able to breathe, away from the confining walls and judgmental portraits that left him feeling bottled up and lost inside.

He shoved open the doors of the great hall, feeling satisfied at the loud bang that sounded as he ran through them and out into the open air. Taking the night air in through one deep lungful after another, he sprinted across the grounds of Hogwarts and crossed into the Forbidden Forest without hesitation.

By the time, his feet would have been tripping over root and vines would have been reaching down to snatch at him, he was on all fours. His body became shorter with more coiled muscles and a sleeker, thicker hide. His four large paws collided with the ground and sent him springing into the air. He dug his claws into a nearby tree and hefted himself onto the branch, letting out a single loud screech to tell everyone else this area was occupied before he turned carefully in a circle and began to lounge on his tree branch.

It was always better in his Animagus form. He felt freer, calmer. He still had to watch for just as many threats from the world but at least they weren't cloaked in illusions of friendship. He supposed he should have told Severus when he'd managed to transform the first time, but he had just wanted to keep the information to himself. He yawned, his short bob-like tail wobbling dangerously. This was a secret not even Severus knew. And he didn't trust anyone not to ruin the little peace he could find the world.