AN: Thank you for all the support! :)
venge·ance [ven-juhns]
noun
infliction of injury, harm, humiliation, or the like, on a person by another who has been harmed by that person; violent revenge.
"To be wronged is nothing, unless you continue to remember it." ― Confucius
It was a cloudy day, not unlike countless others. July was proving to provide mild weather. A gentle breeze caressed the dancing summer leaves as the television in the living room buzzed with laughter and applause. Dudley seemed to have a new found obsession with the blonde woman on Little Whinging's local news channel, and Harry was hoping to use this knowledge to his advantage. It shouldn't have to have been too hard to poke fun at his cousin, but after the recent death of Sirius, Harry was sure it wouldn't have had the desired effect. No smiles, no laughter, and no writing back to Ron with this new revelation.
Sirius. He seemed to be everywhere nowadays. Every glance in the mirror reminded Harry of how much he resembled his father, which then reminded him of how close James and Sirius had been. Could he have changed things? Could he have prevented his death? If only he had kept his mouth shut about the vision. He should have suspected Voldemort's motives. He should have realized that he was slowly being sucked and controlled by evil. He shouldn't have to be mourning over him. Sirius should still be here, smiling and chuckling and complaining about being confined within the walls of Grimmauld Place.
"HARRY!" Vernon howled from the bottom of the stairs, "Get down here, boy!"
Harry stood and stormed into the living room, anger bubbling inside every inch of his body. The Dursleys did not have a drop of sympathy in their blood.
"What?" Harry retorted angrily. The nerve of the lot. They would never understand the horrors that he'd recently faced. He was done with moping about, and had every intention of being as nasty and defiant as possible toward the Dursleys this summer.
"Don't give me that tone, boy. I've provided for your world long enough. The minute you become of age, you'll be out of here! Mark my words!" Vernon snarled, holding up a fat finger between Harry's eyes .
Harry scowled. It had been two weeks since he had returned from Hogwarts. Two weeks too many.
"Now go set the table for dinner, or you won't be having any of it!" Vernon ordered.
Harry suppressed the urge to scoff as he made his way into the kitchen to retrieve the silverware. Petunia turned her nose up at his arrival, but said nothing as usual. Harry ignored her and retrieved all the things he would need without another complaint. Just nine more weeks until he would start his sixth year at Hogwarts. He would just have to bite his tongue, grit his teeth and toughen it out until then.
Dinner was uneventful, but consisted of the customary topics for conversation. Petunia rambled on about how her garden was turning out this summer, and mentioned how she was willing to try out some new cooking recipes that she had recently discovered. Vernon complimented her on the meal and then revealed how his day at work had been, cursing a few of his co-workers along the way. Dudley would occasionally huff and puff at questions directed at him, but mainly focused on shoveling heaps of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Harry kept his mouth shut as usual, nibbling on whatever Petunia had reserved for him, which usually wasn't very much. Marge's dog had been fed better.
Ah, Aunt Marge. For the first time in a while, Harry allowed himself a small smirk that lasted for only about a second. He wondered how she was doing these days. Sirius had certainly gotten a laugh out of that story when Harry had relayed it to him.
He frowned once more, dropping his head and playing with the cold peas on his plate.
Desert was served to the family in the living room, but Harry wasn't offered any. Dudley and Vernon settled in front of the T.V, while Petunia fussed around them, cleaning the final crumbs off of the table and kissing Dudley on the head.
Sometimes Harry wondered what went on his aunt's mind. Did she feel any remorse at the loss of her only sister? There were moments where Harry could swear that he saw some emotion behind those soulless eyes. Sometimes it was the flickering of a twinkle, or the glassiness in one eye for just a moment.
Dudley was cramming the final piece of fruit tart into his mouth when a booming roar filled the room. Harry ducked behind the kitchen counter that he had just begun washing down, fearing the worst. Had the windows shattered? Had Dudley's stomach finally exploded from such ample amounts of food being stored in it?
"BLOODY HELL!" Vernon hollered as Petunia shrieked, pulling Dudley close to her.
As the sounds abated, Harry shakily stood, only to be greeted by the person he had least expected to see.
"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore spoke cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear. "I trust you've been faring well?"
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene. Obviously Dumbledore had arrived through the fireplace as evident by the clouds of hot ash emanating from it.
"I apologize for startling everyone. The fireplace could use a good cleaning." Dumbledore said casually as he dusted off his scarlet robes.
Vernon swore under his breath as he protectively stood in front of his wife and son.
Dumbledore's eyes roved from the huddled Durselys and then back to Harry before continuing.
"I'm afraid I'm here to take Harry out of your care for the meantime, but never fear, he shall return next summer," he said smoothly.
"Well," Vernon cleared his throat, "What are you waiting for, boy? Go with your kind. I'm sick of your nonsense and freaky friends popping up in MY home every year! Can you imagine what the neighbors will think?"
Needless to say, Harry didn't have to be told twice. He dropped the washcloth he had been using and sped upstairs to gather his belongings, but the headmaster stopped him in his tracks.
"That won't be necessary, Harry," Dumbledore smiled and swished his wand gracefully. Within a few seconds, Harry's schoolbooks, trunk, and his owl, Hedwig, flew into the room and came to a halt at the professor's feet.
"I see you haven't unpacked yet," Dumbledore noted with a wink.
Harry allowed himself a small smile out of politeness.
"Well, then. We best be going. Thank you for your hospitality Mr. and Mrs. Dursley."
Harry made his way over to Dumbledore and expected to go back through the fireplace, but was caught by surprise once more when he was stopped.
"We have to make a quick stop first, my boy. It's best if we apparate to the location. Take my arm." Dumbledore explained coolly.
Harry had never apparated before, but knew that he would have to eventually, and what better time than now? Nervously, Harry took his professor's outstretched arm and prepared himself.
The sensation was similar to being transported by portkey. Harry was being twisted and felt as though he was being squeezed out of a new tube of toothpaste. Nausea filled him, and he wished for it to be over already. He was swirling in place and simultaneously falling into what seemed like a gaping hole. Seconds felt like ages, but when Harry managed to open his eyes again, he was blessedly on solid ground once more. He caught himself, willing his knees not to collapse beneath his suddenly heavy body.
"Are you alright, Harry? Most people vomit the first time." Dumbledore said in a somewhat reassuring tone.
"I can't imagine why." Harry said solemnly, but felt better as hastily as he had fallen ill.
He sucked in a deep breath of air only to cough it back up as soon as it entered his lungs. He was aware of a pungent stench from somewhere in the distance and wrinkled his nose as he sniffed tentatively.
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore gave a sad smile and gestured to the west, "that would be the river."
Just then, Harry noticed the blackened hand at Dumbledore's side.
"Sir," he quietly gasped. "What happened?"
Dumbledore raised the hand casually, surveying it with utmost ease. "That's a story that I'll share some other time, Harry. We have an errand to run for now. Don't fret, my boy."
Harry nodded and began to walk alongside the headmaster. They strolled down the barren streets, and Harry couldn't help but notice how run-down the neighborhood seemed. Rickety porches and fragile windows that seemed like they would crack at the slightest gust of wind caught his attention.
"Might I ask where we are, sir?"
"We're at Spinner's End, Harry. There's someone that we'll be visiting today, though I don't believe it would be wise to speak of it in public. We'll be there in just a moment."
Dumbledore's tone grew softer as they neared the identical houses occupying the streets. Harry was sure these were Muggle residences, and felt sorry for the people who were forced to live here.
A television rumbled in one of the houses, the sounds of static ringing in Harry's ears as he walked by. There was no laughter nor were there children playing on the block. Everything seemed eerie and lifeless.
Finally, Dumbledore stopped at a particularly old house. This one was about the same size as the others, but had no porch, just a few steps leading up to the wooden door. Dumbledore knocked sharply as if to ensure that the person inside was aware of his presence.
Harry could hear someone shuffling about behind the door. There was a small thud as something fell to the floor, possibly a book and then a few unintelligible murmurs. The door gave a small click, and then a pair of dark, black eyes came into view, locking onto Dumbledore's blue ones. The two exchanged some hushed words, and then the dark eyed man seemed frustrated for some reason.
But Harry did not need to hear the man's voice to know whose house this was. He had stared into those black eyes for so many years, most especially during his Occlumency lessons last term. They were the eyes of the enemy. They were the eyes of Severus Snape.
"Just a moment, Headmaster," Snape mumbled, silently running through a check-list of things that had to be done before his departure.
"Sir? What's going on?" Harry questioned heatedly, his temper rising at the sight of his least favorite professor. He had the same lean figure and intimidating stance. His greasy black hair hadn't changed either, and Harry wondered whether it was enchanted to look that way, or if it was natural. He wore his usual black robes, but Harry could tell that they were slightly different from his teaching robes. However, he still managed to appear as bat-like as ever.
"Potter," Snape hissed, forming his usual menacing glare.
Those stone cold eyes hadn't changed, but there was something odd about the features of Snape's face. He looked almost… weary.
"Severus," Dumbledore began sternly, "I trust you'll make it there safely. You know that I mustn't linger. It could raise suspicion, even in a Muggle community."
"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said slowly, his eyes never leaving Harry's green ones.
"Well, then. I shall check in as soon as I can, and I expect to be updated frequently, or I'll suspect something has gone amiss," Dumbledore concluded.
"Sir?" Harry queried.
"I apologize for being so ambiguous, Harry. Professor Snape will explain everything to you in due time, but right now it is essential that you listen to what he says. I shall return later today." Dumbledore replied hurriedly. As an after thought he added, "Trust me, Harry."
Harry was perplexed. Was Dumbledore going to leave him with Snape? The man would kill him without a second thought. He would probably burn his body or get rid of all the evidence to ensure that there wouldn't be a funeral. Harry would never be seen again.
With a crack, Dumbledore disapparated into thin air, and Harry was left alone with his Potion's professor.
Snape walked out from behind the door and it locked behind him with another click, so that Harry didn't have an opportunity to take a peek at what was inside. Was this really where Snape lived? He had always expected Death Eaters to live in elegant manors like the Malfoy family, but it seemed that he was sorely mistaken.
Snape said nothing to him as he swept by Harry's confused figure. He made his way down the street swiftly, so that Harry had to jog to keep up with him. He didn't know why he was willingly following Snape around, but Dumbledore had said to listen to him, which probably meant that he was supposed to tag along. Besides, if Snape wasn't going to provide any answers, he was going to have to find them out himself. Plus, staying out in the open in unfamiliar surroundings would hardly be considered safe.
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed exasperatedly. "Where are we going? What's going on?"
Snape ignored him, quickening his pace so that Harry was nearly sprinting after him in order to keep up.
"Git," Harry muttered under his breath.
He lagged behind, watching the cloudy sky as he went. A drop of rain splattered on his nose and he wiped it off absently with his sleeve. He was just beginning to dread the thought that he would be forced to stand in the rain for hours, when Snape had decided that they had gone far enough.
The professor snarled and reluctantly put out his arm. "Come here, Potter."
Harry stared at him in disbelief. They had come all this way just to apparate anyway?
"Are we going to disapparate?" Harry asked warily.
"You really are dim, Potter. It never ceases to amaze me. The Dark Lord overestimates your abilities," Snape sneered.
Harry glowered. "I just wanted to know why you dragged me halfway across the town for this, sir," he said a little too forcefully.
"I doubt my neighbors would appreciate my sudden disappearance right before their eyes," Snape replied.
"But Dumbledore-"
"Professor Dumbledore is a powerful wizard. He may be willing to take the risk of apparating in the open, but seeing that I'm stuck with you, we have to take certain precautions. I wonder what Bellatrix Lestrange would think if she saw me strolling with you," Snape interjected.
"There are other Death Eaters here?"
"There very well may be. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter," Snape snapped.
Harry hesitantly stepped forward, and placed his hand on his professor's forearm. It was very strange; being in such close proximity with Snape was unnerving. In all the years that he had been Harry's teacher, they had never touched each other, except for when Snape was especially cross with him.
The same twisting sensation filled Harry, but this time when he felt the ground under his feet, he was capable to keep his balance.
A split second of surveillance proved to him that he was in Grimmauld Place. Its usually musty scent filled his nostrils, and he was instantly reminded of Sirius.
Suddenly, Snape and Dumbledore didn't matter anymore. He couldn't bear to stand in this building, not so soon.
He shut his eyes tightly and turned back toward the door, reaching for the handle, but was stopped when Snape clutched the collar of his jacket.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"I won't stay here," Harry stated firmly.
"Oh, but we've just arrived. Surely you can stay for a few introductions," Snape sneered.
The man was playing his usual mind games, and Harry wasn't up for any of them. He wanted to go back to Dumbledore. He wanted to convey to him all the emotions that had been running through his head for the past two weeks. He needed to be reassured that this loss had some sort of meaning to it.
"Why did you bring me here?" Harry forced himself to speak.
Snape scowled. "It seems that yet again, you are the cause of my recent problems, Potter. The headmaster assures me that you need protection, and once again I have been placed on babysitting duty."
"Protection? I don't need any protection, especially if you're the one who'll be giving it." Harry retorted.
"Ah, if only it were that simple." Snape gave a nasty smile. "However, I can assure you that if protection is what you require, I will be more than capable of providing it." There was something in the way Snape's nostrils were flaring, and eyes were glinting that Harry did not like in the least.
"You see, Death Eaters have gained a certain interest in your living standards, Potter. They've been testing enchantments, tinkering with experimental charms. Though Professor Dumbledore is assured that they will not be able to penetrate any wards, he thought it best if you were moved until these interests die down." Snape lied smoothly.
Harry was beginning to connect the dots, and he was not liking where this was going.
"Since the location of these headquarters is still a secret, you'll be staying here for the meantime," Snape finished.
Harry's eyes widened. "And I have to stay here with you?"
He must have been dreaming. He willed himself to wake up, to escape the horrors of this nightmare.
Snape said nothing in response, but he didn't have to. This had already been decided without Harry's input. He was stuck here until Dumbledore cleared Privet Drive to be safe again. He was going to have to live with Snape.
Live. With. Snape.
Somehow, the words just couldn't register properly in his mind. He was sure Snape was going to get a good laugh out of this.
"B-But, why can't I stay with Remus? Why did Dumbledore choose you out of all other people?" Harry spoke in a strained voice. He leaned against the door for support, not trusting his legs to carry him any longer.
For a moment, Snape's frowned, then proceeded to ignore the question. He turned to walk away and go about his day, but Harry refused to allow him out of this so easily.
"Why are you here? You obviously don't want to be here. Why don't you just apparate away from here?" Harry asked fervently.
Snape's eyes sparked with fire. He spun around on his heel, turned to Harry and seized his t-shirt, pulling the fifteen year old forward.
Perhaps, the realization that he would be subjected to three weeks of complete vulnerability was what threw Snape over the edge. The constant twinges of fatigue and lethargy were driving him mad, and having to look into those bright emerald eyes was not helping in the least. He wasn't in his right mind anymore. Words escaped his mouth without him truly understanding what they meant, or why he was saying them. Every process in his body seemed to be functioning involuntarily now, and Snape could no longer trust himself to keep control.
"Want to know what would happen if I left Dumbledore, Potter?" Snape said threateningly as Harry tried to wriggle free of his grasp. "I'd be sent to Azkaban as soon as the Minister was notified. Bet you'd enjoy that wouldn't you, Potter? You'd gladly watch dementors gnaw on my soul, but guess what, Potter? I. Won't. Give. You. The. Satisfaction."
Harry felt himself being shoved backward, but caught himself on the small table pushed against the wall. He hated Snape. He hated him with a deep passion, and he knew the feeling was mutual.
