Harry tumbled so clumsily into Snape's office that the man stood from his desk and was halfway around it as if he intended to catch him. The younger wizard looked up with watery eyes at the blur of his Head of House.
"Is it true that Hermione didn't come back?" He demanded, blinking away his tears. A few escaped to roll down his cheeks, and he watched the older wizard hesitate. "Please…don't be like them. Tell me the truth. Is she gone?"
Snape sighed, looking away from his imploring gaze. "Miss Granger is…missing," He answered softly.
Harry felt more tears threaten as his heart clenched. His breathing became shallow, and he could feel his magic teetering on the edge of instability. "This…this is all my fault," He gasped. "It was just supposed to be a joke, and now she's with him."
Snape stepped forward. "With who, Harry?"
Harry felt his knees try to buckle and he forced himself to remain standing. "Her puppet master, whoever he is," He explained. "She'd never have become this person if it weren't for someone else pulling on her strings. I could've-could've done something, tried to fix things with her. Instead I've driven her into his arms!"
"Harry, this is not your fault," Snape said firmly. "As far as anyone knows, they've been planning this since your accident."
"But what if they weren't?!" Harry demanded, feeling anger leap into the turmoil of emotions rushing through his veins, his muscles clenching as his tail flicked dangerously and his ears clamped down on his head. "What if my stupid gag, before she left, only hardened her heart?!"
Snape pulled him into a tight embrace. "Harry, you cannot keep blaming yourself for the choices of those around you."
Harry let himself be held, clinging desperately to the thick black robes that hung off his Head of House. He felt his anger receding, leaving only despair. When he thought he could, he looked up with a sniffle. The tumultuous roar of blood in his ears became deafening, as he stared into the fathomless black gaze. He had never noticed how those eyes shimmered like polished obsidian, or how their depth complimented the man's features perfectly. And his mouth seemed perfectly shaped, crooked though it was.
The Boy Who Lived started when he realized he'd been leaning up towards that gaze and those lips. He drew away, his wings folding against his back from where they had been stretching to encompass them both. He didn't miss the hurt that flashed across the aristocratic features, quickly buried under the typically stoic mask.
Snape cleared his throat and took his own step back. "Miss Granger is not the only absentee student," He admitted gently. "A few others failed to return on the train, or have vanished from the grounds, including the Creevey brothers."
Harry felt his despair and panic crash back over him like a tidal wave as this news sunk in. He curled in on himself, his wings huddling against his shoulders as his arms wrapped around his middle, warding off a cold he felt in his bones.
"What…what have I done?"
Snape hesitated before pulling Harry into another embrace. This time, Harry recognized the strange desire that threatened to overwhelm his anguish. He shoved it aside in lieu of returning the hug. His arms snaked around the man's middle, his wings unfolding to wrap around the entangled duo, and his tail relaxed against his furry legs after so long twitching in misery. Harry sighed into the embrace. A part of him, which lived to hope, thought perhaps everything might be okay, so long as he remained here. The rest of him, aged beyond his years, was not so naïve, and he knew that this must pass, and the world would come crashing down again. And Hermione would return, with her small army of deserters, to restore her vision of perfection.
