This is the second chapter to Save the Saviour. I am not, nor will I ever be JKR, but boy I wish I was! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think! :)
Save the Saviour
Chapter 2 - Revelations
Ron and Hermione came in twenty minutes after Harry, for breakfast, obviously having just had a heated snogging session, judging by their flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
Harry looked up as they entered, about to signal where he was so they could take their usual place beside him, when he remembered the rift that currently divided the trio. His mouth drew into a tight, thin line as he watched them take their seats next to the rest of the Weasley clan at the other end of the large table.
Owls came and went with the morning post, one of the school's tawnies dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet into Harry's bowl of Wizard Oats, making it gloopy and damp. He watched in disgust as the slop fell back into his bowl, and pushed the uneaten mess away.
Gasps echoed throughout the room and Harry, having not yet had a chance to even read the headline of his newly clean paper, looked up to see countless eyes glued to him. Suddenly feeling self conscious, he made to hide behind the Prophet when he, too, let out a guffaw of surprise.
'Harry Potter, Gay?' Read the flashing headline.
'- Potter was reportedly seen making eyes at none over than the blond Slytherin Prince on the carriage to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Reporters say he was later seen in close proximity to the young Malfoy heir in Hogwarts' school halls. His 'friends', Hermione Jean Granger and Ronald Bilius Weasley, declined to comment, stating only that he was 'a liar and probably a nancy boy anyway'. "Not seen him with a girl since I met him-." "He just isn't who he used to be, I'm afraid." The poor girl then shook her head sadly and refused to comment further. Having said that, his - former - friends have been very distant from Mr. Potter this summer, not sending any post to the mysterious Boy-Who-Lived at all.
That's all from me.
Rita Skeeter'
Fury coursed through Harry's veins, and he yelped as if struck, standing and storming from the Great Hall, right into Severus Snape.
"Watch where you're going you dunder-... Potter." The stoic man's usually cold exterior seemed to soften for a moment as he took in the upset boy's demeanour. The look was fleeting, however, and Harry could be sure whether he'd been imagining things.
"Excuse me, Professor," the boy bit out, making to move past the tall, black clad man.
"Not so fast, boy." Harry flinched, his body jerking at the way he'd been addressed. Snape's eyes narrowed as he caught the slight movement, and made a note of it within his mind. "Here, a Calming Draught." He held out a small vail of a blue-green substance to the shaken boy.
Harry's head shot up from where he'd been glaring hatefully at the floor, wishing Rita bloody Skeeter dead, and latched onto Snape's own, coal black orbs. Reaching out to take the potion, hesitantly, as if it were a cruel trick, Harry murmured a soft 'thank you' before downing the potion and hurrying away towards his first class of the day - Care of Magical Creatures.
Hagrid was his usual bubbly self, sharing countless facts and stories about his beloved Blast-Ended Skrewts, which they'd be handling next lesson. They were apparently related to both manticores and Fire crabs, being a mixed breed of them both. They also could grow to be around ten foot long, Hagrid had said.
Harry's next lesson was double Potions, with lunch between each period. Snape was - almost - his usual evil self, taking away fifty points from Gryffindor when Neville Longbottom managed to melt a cauldron. He was, unusually, avoiding Harry, seeming not to even notice his presence.
Instead of his usual barbs and taunts towards the boy, he brushed past him, not even deigning to mention the inconsistent colouring of his Euphoria Inducing potion, and looked away any time Harry caught his intense gaze directed at him, or more specifically, his hands.
Harry's hands were shaking with the force of the pain in his back and ribs, which were so sore he could barely focus, hence the botched potion. He'd yet to summon the courage to ask Madam Pomfrey, the resident Healer, for a pain reliever, fearful of the probing questions she was likely to ask. No one could know. Not Dumbledore or Snape, and especially not Malfoy, for the latter two would surely ridicule him and the former's look of disappointment would make Harry's insides shrivel up with shame for being caught off guard and weak.
"Potter," Snape called as class filtered out. "A moment, if you will?" He raised an eyebrow in what seemed like a genuine question as Harry stood before the foreboding professor, hands behind his back and head bowed in submission, as he was trained to do by both the Dursleys and Dumbledore.
"Yes, Sir?" He said softly, suddenly afraid.
"Potter... Look at me." Snape's voice was... gentle? Almost pleading as he reached out to tilt Harry's chin up with his potion stained forefinger.
Harry looked up, locking gazes with Snape, and blinked.
"You have your mother's eyes," he whispered, a small, rueful smile gracing his sallow face.
"I-I do?" Harry was befuddled. Snape was acting like a normal person, not his usual, preferred, snarky self.
"You do. The same colour and the exact same shape. You're very much like Lily, too. I'm sorry I never noticed, child."
An apology from Snape? Had hell frozen over? "I... Thank you, Sir. That means a lot." Harry bowed his head again, this time hiding the tears that threatened to fall at the mention of his mother. He had never heard much about her, only James, his father. The only memory he had of her was accompanied by a flash of green light and a piercing scream that haunted him. He always longed to know more about her, and was thankful when Hagrid had gifted him with a wizarding photo album of his parents, but again, it had more of James that of Lily.
"I'd noticed your friends have been aloof with you. I also noticed your hands."
Harry's head shot up, a red flush washing up his neck to the tips of his ears at the mention of his last friends and ailment, which he thought he'd hidden well enough. "I'm fine," he growled, forgetting about Snape's niceties from before. "Now if you don't mind, I have lunch to attend." And with that, he turned tail and ran out the door and to a hidden alcove, where he knelt and wept. Wept for his mother, his lost friends and for the agony, both physical and mental, he was suffering from. He wept for the fact that he'd been caught.
Hot tears poured from his eyes and landed with a soft 'pitter-patter' on the hard stone floor. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he failed to notice the hurrying footsteps approaching from behind.
"Potter." A figure knelt before him, placing steadying hands on his shoulders as he fell forward into oblivion.
The infirmary was warm and very bright. That was the first thing Harry noticed when he came around. He was in the bed closest to the door, curtains drawn round and tucked under a soft while duvet. A throat cleared to his left and Harry, startled, spun to face the person sitting beside him, yelping as he twisted, causing his healing welts to open and pour down his back, staining his gown a sickly yellow.
"Hold still. Madam Pomfrey!" Snape called, standing and approaching Harry's bedside. Harry flinched away from the touch, further confirming what Snape had seen and injuring his seeping wounds. Harry wiped his sleeve across his eyes, tears burning the corners as they clouded with intense pain.
"What's the problem, here?" Pomfrey entered the shut off space, arms loaded with potions, balms and bandages, prepared for whatever may have occurred.
"His wounds have split - he'll need wrapping and a few blood replenishing potions, please, Poppy." Snape turned to the Mediwitch, issuing orders and instructions on how to use and apply various potions.
"Yes, yes Severus. I'm quite aware of what I'm doing, thank you very much." She bustled to Harry's side, and to his dismay, vanished his gown with a flick of her wand, leaving him in only his underwear and exposing the full extent of his injuries. Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Snape were shocked at what they saw, having already gone through that when Harry first came in to the infirmary that morning. "Now lean forward, if you will, Mister Potter," the kindly old witch instructed, opening a healing salve and pasting it liberally onto his chest wounds, and to the ones on his back when he complied. "Very good. Well done," she crooned.
Snape stood back, scrutinising the Mediwitch's work and giving pointers now and again on how to apply each salve and potion.
"Now take this please, Harry," Pomfrey said, pushing a double dose of blood replenishing potion into Harry's weak hands. Harry took it, making a face at the sock like taste and swallowing thickly.
"Thank you, Madam. I feel much better now," Harry lied.
"Nonsense, Potter. The potions won't have taken effect yet. Lay back and stay still until they really start working." Harry knew an order when he heard one and obeyed immediately, settling back into the fluffy pillows and sighing with content as the anticipated pain upon impact didn't come. "Thank you."
Harry was too worn out from the day's events, that he didn't even register Snape's words, instead falling into his first fully restful sleep in six and a half weeks, having been slipped a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep.
Severus and Poppy stood over the sleeping child for a moment, before nodding to each other and exiting to Madam Pomfrey's office.
"What did you see, Severus?" Poppy asked as they entered the spotless room, referring to the morning's events and his discrete use of Legilimency.
"He's been badly abused, I'm afraid. By his family, none the less." His voice was weary and he pinched the bridge of his long, hooked nose, sighing deeply before continuing. "He lives in a cupboard under the stairs. His uncle, in particular, is the worst, using all sorts of implements to abuse the boy, his favourites being his belt and his own fists. His cousin taunts him endlessly, and plays a delightful game aptly named 'Harry Hunting'. This involved him and his ghastly group of ruffians chasing him down, catching him, and beating him to a bloody pulp with whatever they can get their filthy hands on." He stopped, gritting his teeth before going on. " Petunia, his aunt, Lily's sister - despicable woman - starves him."
Poppy gasped, covering her downturned mouth with a frail hand as her eyes filled with tears of horror and anguish. "Oh, that poor child!"
