A/N: I honestly have no great excuse this time, other than real life has gotten to be a bear (smarter than the average bear) and I have developed some bad habits with my writing. One habit that I thought was great at the time was I carried around a notebook to work wrote out over half of this chapter long hand. The only problem was that I didn't want to go home basically rewrite what I had just done. No more of that.
Thank you all so incredibly much for your patience. I get reviews that are so encouraging that say that they check daily for updates to this story and I feel I let you down. Thank you readers for your understanding. You guys are so awesome!
This chapter is un-betaed. I wanted to post this so badly since I feel guilty for making you wait so long that as soon as I finished it, I posted it. I have sent a copy to my ever patient beta Invader Shawn, so don't blame her for the mistakes. They are all mine. In face, she is probably shaking her head at me for not giving her any time, but I am impatient and want to post it nnooooowwwww...oh. ahem. That wasn't a whiney voice. Nope. Don't even know what you are talking about...
Chapter 13: From Green to Grey
My hair hasn't turned fuchsia, has it? – Harry Potter
Harry's in the kitchen.
Now, before there are scoffs and mutters as to the inanity of this statement or even have someone go so far as to finish the statement with a sung, "with Dinah¹," please know that the uselessness of this statement on its own is well documented in the logs of useless things and sayings. Though this volume is very large, and getting larger by the minute, this is most definitely present. It can be found right after the entry for those little foot booties for cats. Sure, they look cute, but what purpose to they really serve?
So to clarify, Harry's in the kitchen cooking supper.
Ah, this could be considered somewhat noteworthy, considering that Harry cooking meant good food on the way. In fact, right now, the house smelled like the chicken that Harry had searing in the large skillet on the stove and a small pudding he had just placed in the oven. In a few minutes, the smell of steamed vegetables would also join the mix.
Now—to get further into specifics than that—Harry's in the kitchen cooking supper and dancing.
Here is something a little less useless to write about!
Let there be an understanding, first and foremost, that it was not like Harry was doing any sort of waltz, tango, or ballet around the room. No, he did not have the rhythm for such things. He did, however, tend to bob his head, tap his toes, and do a move he had seen on the Dursley's television once that was known as, "The Twist," when he was alone in the kitchen. He didn't know when he had picked up on this habit, though he suspected it was after he had seen the dance on the T.V. When he was younger, he did not like to cook. He was not allowed to leave the kitchen while cooking, so he would often find himself bored out of his mind waiting on water to boil or bread to rise.
So, he started to dance.
It became a sort of game with his relatives unknowingly participating. A game that continued on during the summers in between Hogwarts.
Since his aunt, cousin, and especially his uncle could not tolerate to be in the same room with him any longer than they needed to be, they would often dart in and out of the kitchen while he was in there until dinner was served. The game involved Harry dancing around in place while they were gone and then going back to normal when they entered the room. Vernon and Dudley were pretty easy, since they mostly stomped around the house. Aunt Petunia was a completely different story and he often congratulated himself after she came blowing through the room quietly except a slight huff when she saw Harry stirring the sauce.
Odd?
Sure.
Slight waste of time and effort?
Maybe.
Entertaining as hell to a boy who, up until he was eleven, had lived in a cupboard?
Abso-bleedin-lutely.
Even though he hadn't been at the Dursley's residence for over a year, he still would find himself in front of the stove, making little dances.
Like he was doing now.
The knack he had for being able to stop on a seconds notice still served him well; he could still go back to normal whenever Ron or Hermione came into the room, though there wasn't much of a game to it anymore. Unlike the Dursleys, Ron and Hermione would stay in the kitchen and keep him company usually. His two friends thought he was weird enough already though, so forget about them actually learning that danced in front of kitchen appliances when no one was watching.
Harry sighed as he stopped his little dance to turn the chicken. After that, he didn't resume the half-way-resembles-a-mini-one-person-conga, but turned around and leaned against the counter to the right of the stove.
Recently, anytime his friends had been around him Harry had had to deal with funny looks along with discussions about Severus.
Well, that really wasn't all true.
Hermione had stopped being direct and had switched to dropping hints. Or at least Harry thought she was. The young, curly haired witch was sometimes just a little too subtle with her insinuations and questions; often Harry left from talking with her knowing that something had happened, but he just wasn't sure what.
Ron was about as delicate in the matter as a bludger to the head. Things would start out normal enough, discussing training or quidditch, but then the redhead would stop the conversation completely and oh-so-sneakily switch the topic to Severus. This was usually done with the phrase, "So, you pulled Snape, yet?" or something to that effect. That's when Harry leaves the room to Ron asking, "What? What did I say?"
Yes, that is what he had to deal with when his friends were there.
Not that they were there right now.
Hadn't been for two days.
The two were on another recon mission with Tonks and Kingsley; they couldn't have any contact whatsoever, leaving Harry wanting to crawl the walls in his anxiousness. He had tried to go with them on this assignment, but he had been refused.
Albus and Severus were still of the opinion that Harry still wasn't prepared to fight, no matter how passionately the younger wizard argued the opposite. That he was in control. That he had improved. Regardless of this, Severus still reported incidents of accidental magic and outbursts.
Tattletale.
The black and silver haired teen had tried again with the point that it was only a recon mission, no fighting. Everything should be fine. This was also shot down with the logic that encounters with Voldemort's Death Eaters have increased and the likelihood of discovery during this task was very high.
Harry wondered if they thought that using that logic would convince him to stay. If anything, hearing that made him argue even more that he needed to be out there. It had finally taken Ron and Hermione to get him to finally agree to stay behind once again.
This wasn't their fight.
It was his.
And he had said so.
Right before he had received a very stern lecture from Hermione about the insanity and stupidity of thinking that he could fight a whole war by himself.
Stupid or not, what if something happened?
What if they were ambushed?
Outnumbered?
Harry quickly shook his head, trying to chase the thoughts away. Hermione and Ron were more than capable. In addition, they were with two highly experienced and powerful Aurors. If there were a fight, then they would be okay.
Right?
Harry turned and looked up at the clock on the wall. There were several wizards' clocks all over the house, but Harry had insisted on having a few regular timepieces throughout. When he had started supper, it was close to the estimated arrival time of the mission party, now, the food was almost done and there was neither sign nor word from his friends.
The ebony and silver haired teen turned and looked at the pit of water that he was to boil in order to steam the veggies. It was the last thing to do before the meal was deemed ready.
Ready.
He was ready.
Granted, he knew it wasn't as precise as steaming vegetables on the stove—here, Harry had the mental image of himself as a carrot—but he was tired of making progress in leaps and bounds and yet still being told that he needed to wait. That he wasn't ready. Still didn't have enough control.
Harry turned the element on, and then stared at the pot of water.
Control, his right shoe!
The young wizard set his jaw and concentrated, feeling the now familiar flow of magic that had almost a comforting effect on him.
The water began to boil.
"See," Harry spoke aloud to the now very hot pot, "I could always cook Voldemort."
That caused a particularly gross mental image.
Harry shuddered and pulled a face.
'Or not.'
Harry placed the raw vegetable to let them cook for a minute or two, placing the lid on the top. Quickly, his mind began to drift to other, random, and unimportant thoughts that all humans, and many an animal, vegetable and mineral, are susceptible to, and without realizing it, his body began to move on its own accord to some unknown, but perfectly natural internal beat. Soon he was bobbing his head and twisting his hips, swaying slightly from side to side.
Finally, on to the last part of the sentence sequencing development for today.
Harry's in the kitchen cooking dinner and dancing…
And he wasn't alone.
Severus watched from the doorway as supposedly the most powerful wizard in all of Great Britain, possibly the entire world, danced in a kitchen. He wondered is Sybil Trelawney had seen this when she had made her fateful prediction all those years ago. He doubted it. If she had, the word, "abnormal," would have been mentioned more than once in the prophesy.
The taller wizard was actually quite surprised by the action. When he had come down here from his room—he had started to go even against Harry's wishes that he not take the stairs by himself—to inquire as to dinner and to once again prove that he was physically stable and his one too many nursemaids were simply misinformed. Things had been strained between them since the…incident during training, but Severus was of the mind that there was nothing to talk about. Obviously, Harry agreed. They simply went about as though the whole thing had never happened. For the best really.
He had stopped in the doorway without so much of a word to the sight of the young, green-eyed wizard dancing around in front of the large stove in the middle of the room.
At first, he had thought there was something terribly wrong with the smaller man, like he had burned himself, but then, the teen stopped his movements, becoming very still and staring off at the backsplash behind the oven. That was when Severus amended his reasoning. There was something wrong with him, all right, but it wasn't a physical injury. He then caught a glimpse of Harry's face as his profile became visible when the ex-Gryffindor turned to look at the clock on the wall.
The first thing that came to Severus mind was anxious.
The boy was anxious.
The boy was always anxious these days.
The more his friend's went off on missions and fights without him, the more anxious Harry became.
The more anxious he would become.
And the harder he trained.
Their sessions had doubled in length, the only reason they did not triple being that Harry worried that Severus needed rest. Severus never said anything to the contrary, despite the blow to his pride, because it was Harry that needed the rest more. Physically and magically depleted, Harry would insist on Helping Severus up the stairs, where he would then proceed to crash on Severus's bed. The Potion Master wondered how much sleep the teen was getting, because he also would catch Harry asleep in random parts of the house. On couches, at the kitchen table and even in the hallways. Severus was under the impression that the teen anxiousness and worry was keeping him up at night and he would run himself ragged until he finally just dropped where he stood. In fact, Severus was willing to place galleons on the bet that his bed was the only one Harry every slept in nowadays.
He should tell the little whelp to go back to his own bed.
But he never did.
The dark eyed wizard was finally brought from his musings for a moment when he felt the rush of magical energy that he now so easily associated with Harry blow through the room. He was unsure what the young man had used his magic for, but he ventured a guess when only a second later he heard the sound of water boiling rapidly. Severus then heard Harry mutter something, but from as far away as he was, he was only able to make out the words, "cook" and "Voldemort." He could only guess what had actually been said as the boy gave a full body shudder and then went back to tending supper.
And began to dance again.
The Potions Master watched for a few, long minutes. Harry was by no means a dancer by any stretch of the term and it seemed that the beat he was moving to would change sporadically, but that did not stop Severus from becoming almost hypnotized by the young man's movements.
More specifically, Harry's arse.
A revelation that, when finally made by Severus a few more long minutes later, made him feel like a fool and a dirty old man.
He did not stop staring.
He did not make his presence known, either.
It was not until the young wizard did a very amateur version of a pirouette that Severus's not-so-covert hiding place was discovered.
As Harry turned, he could have sworn on his Firebolt that there was a dark figure in the doorway behind him, but he chucked that up to his imagination. He hadn't heard anyone walking up. However, as he turned around for the second time, he stopped facing said doorway and let out a little gasp as he realized that he was indeed not alone.
"Wha—" Harry's eyes widened and, without thinking of what he was doing or where he was going, he took a few steps back.
Right into the stove, tipping the pot of boiling water, and sending some of the scalding liquid spill out and onto the teen's back.
Harry hissed out as the water hit him, wishing he had worn more layers of clothing to protect himself.
Things seemed to happen quite rapidly after that. Severus advanced in only a few, very hurried steps, causing Harry's eyes to widen even further—if that was even possible.
"You are supposedly supposed to save us all and yet you have to be the clumsiest little nitwit ever to be encountered!" Severus said as he promptly took the teen by the shoulders, turned him around, and lifted the damp, vegetable smelling shirt to inspect the now angry, red skin.
Harry just stared forward mutely for a moment as he tried to process what was happening. His irritated skin didn't even enter his mind; even the fact that Severus had all but hauled his shirt clear off didn't take precedent. No, what he was really worried about was—
"How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough," Severus replied as he cast a mild healing charm and lowered the green-eyed teen's shirt.
Harry wanted to ask how long that was, but he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer to his question.
"Does the rest of the wizarding world know that their hero dances in front of inanimate objects?"
There.
He knew it.
Harry let out a groan. "Only if you tell them."
"I doubt they would believe such a thing."
Harry just shrugged. "They all think I am absolutely nutters anyway."
"That is not the actions of a crazy person," Severus said as he sat down at the kitchen table.
"Oh, isn't it now?"
"No, it is moronic."
"And here I was worried. What are you doing spying on me?" the young wizard asked as he turned to open the oven door to check the pudding.
Severus snorted with as much derision as possible and averted his eyes as the teen bent over to check the supper. "I was not spying. You could hardly call what you were doing covert. I was simply walking through the house and happened upon that little scene you call dancing."
"It's called the twist."
"I know what the twist is, and that was not the twist."
"Artistic license?"
"It needs to be revoked."
Harry simply chuckled as shook his head. That only lasted for a minute though, when he finally processed another part of the conversation. "Hey, wait a mo; you were upstairs last I checked."
"Brilliant, Harry."
"You know you aren't supposed to take the stairs by yourself."
"I seemed to have managed just fine."
"Yea, this time. What happens next time when you fall?"
"I will not fall. I am in perfect control of my motor abilities," Severus said stiffly as he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt.
"You are going to hurt yourself again," Harry stated simply.
"That remains to be seen. Besides, I am merely taking my self-prescribed therapy to the next level. If I am to return to fighting line, then I need to stop being babied by some little nursemaid with a hero complex."
Harry furrowed his brow and brought his hands up on his hips. "How is it that you get to return to battle and I don't?"
"You are still not in complete control of your magic."
"Oh, that's—"
"While I admit," Severus interrupted before he could hear the oft-used arguments the teen presented, "Your powers and your ability to use them in situations has improved to an acceptable level—"
"Don't hurt yourself with that compliment, now," Harry said coolly.
Severus went on as though he had not heard anything, "You still become far too drained using powerful amounts of magic for a long period of time. You need to build up stamina. End of discussion."
"I'll show you stamina, you—" Harry stopped as he realized the innuendo that could accompany that statement and fought hard not to blush, thinking of quite a few things he could do that would show the older man he had stamina.
Damn it. Now he needed to change the subject.
Because thoughts of stamina along with Severus were leading to more of those odd, confusing, and far-too-frequent-now thoughts that he got when in the other man's presence.
He waved his hand quickly, turning all the knobs and dials on the stove off before he slid in the chair across the table from Severus, infinitely glad for its presence and help in this situation since his traitorous body had decided to react to his traitorous mind.
"Uh, so why do you call me little?"
It wasn't one of his better diversion plans, but it certainly wasn't one of the worse.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why do you call me little?"
"Because that is what you are."
"Yes, I know that, but you supposedly have this great command of the King's English, however anytime you insult me, you always call me little. I was just wondering why."
Severus blinked. "I—"
Then he stopped. He had never realized he had done such a thing. Now, flashes back of the countless times he had called the boy names entered his mind. Sure enough, the descriptive "little" was somewhere in the mix.
The taller man cleared his throat.
"Because that is what you are."
"You said that already."
"It bears repeating."
"I smell bullshit."
Severus cocked an eyebrow to the curse, but said nothing.
"Why do you call me little?"
"I have already given you my answer."
"No, you gave me a pat-answer. Now, tell me."
"Stubborn lit—"
Harry leaned over the table, he didn't know why he was picking this fight, it had started out as just a distraction, but he realized that there was more to this and he wasn't backing out now.
"Stubborn what?" he said as he placed both palms on the table, looking Severus right in the eyes. "What am I?"
"Little!" Severus growled out as he too slapped both of his hands down on the table and leaned across, as if accepting the challenge.
"You. Are. Little. You have been caged all your life and like any caged wild, exotic animal, you have only grown to fit your enclosure. If it were not for the miniscule amount of muscle, you have procured in your training efforts you would almost be considered petite. You inspire others to care and protect you, not thoughts of might and power.
Harry blinked a few times. His green eyes magnified by his glasses giving him the ruffled owl appearance. He knew there was an insult in there somewhere. In fact, since it was Severus there were probably multiple insults thrown in for good measure, but right now he was unable to care about those things because he had finally realized just how close his and Severus's faces were to one another and he just couldn't get one line out of his head.
"And—" Harry swallowed and subconsciously licked his lips. "And do I inspire thoughts of protection and care with you?"
Severus's eyes had moved downward to Harry's mouth at the first sign of the teen's pink tongue.
Harry found himself doing the same thing to Severus's thinner, slightly parted lips. Watched as they formed the words.
"I—"
The quiet of the moment was abruptly interrupted when the popping sounds of multiple apparations came from the front of the house. The sound easily and quite effectively scared the living daylights out of both Harry and Severus, who jumped back from the other as though they had been struck. The Potion Master turned in his chair to study a particularly dull painting of a bowl of fruit while the teen hero went to check on the food, not remembering that he had turned everything off earlier.
Not a few beats later, Ron, and Hermione walked into the room, followed by Tonks and Remus.
Well, Hermione, Remus and Tonks walked.
Ron limped.
Harry's ill feeling at seeing Remus, who wasn't even a part of the mission, compounded when he saw his best friend hobble into the kitchen.
"What happened to you?
Ron rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you too, ya nag."
"Sorry," Harry said as he went to greet each of his friends with a hug.
Severus merely gave a curt nod.
"Now," the green-eyed wizard replied when he was done hugging his tallest friend, "What the blazes happened to you?"
"Bit of a fight," Ron responded as he gingerly sat down in a chair at the table, Tonks and Remus joining him.
"A bit?!"
"It really wasn't that bad, Harry," Remus interjected. "Several of the Aurors were able to apparate in."
"That doesn't mean I shouldn't have been there?"
"Harry, I'm fine. Hermione was able to fix me up. I'm just a bit sore, is all. And hungry."
"But—" Harry tried again.
"Oh yes!" Hermione said as she went over beside Harry to look at the stove. "The food smells delicious. I'll just get to work dishing all this up!"
The conversation moved on quickly as the food was served. Severus was no fool. He knew a cover up when he saw one. Chances were very good that the battle had not bit just a "bit of a fight," and the Weasley boy was most likely a few shades worse that fine by the look of his pale skin, but the group had decided to put on a more optimistic standpoint in order to not worry Harry about it.
Severs looked over at the young man throughout dinner. By the look on his face, he was not buying the cover up either.
Harry's had just about all he can stand, thank you very much. He was more than through sitting back and watching as those he loved went off to fight and possibly never returned. He was through with everyone telling him that if he just waited a bit longer, that if he just kept training, that things would get better and he would be able to return to active combat instead of just sitting in a house, cooking and cleaning and going out of his mind.
He.
Was.
Through.
For the past few days, he had tried to wheedle any information he could from his fellow housemates about the battle that had taken place, but with no success. The subject kept being changed.
Ron still limped around the place, but insisted that he was right as rain.
Harry wasn't an idiot.
He might have been born at night, but it certainly wasn't last night.
He knew what had happened. Knew by the fact that Remus was sticking around and Ron and Hermione were practically inseparable, both acting like little lovesick teenagers. Which was what they were, but they only acted this bad right after a major battle.
Oh, yes.
Harry knew.
This was why he was sitting with his legs curled up under him on the floor in the middle of Grimmauld Place's dusty attic.
He was not going to just sit back any longer, despite what Dumbledore and Severs said.
He was not going to watch his friends be hurt or worse.
He was going to do something.
He was going back to the red area.
This was more than likely a colossally bad idea. In fact, in all the colossals of colossus, this one may just take the cake, but Harry didn't care. His reasoning was that if the red area was what threw his powers out of whack, maybe the red area could help put it back together again. Again, it was a terrible, awful, no-good, very bad idea; he was still doing it, though.
He had to.
Just had to remember how he did it.
Harry closed his eyes and opened his mind, hoping that some kind of resolution came from this.
He already knew that this time was vastly different from the previous times he meditated. Knew because he didn't even have to imagine chasing the snitch through the clouds. He just went right into the blue place.
Oh, how Harry had missed this. He had been so afraid of meditating because of the uncertainty of what would happen that he hadn't done it in what seemed like ages. He missed the calming feeling that washed over him in this blue haze that swirled and moved. That seemed almost a solid, liquid and gas all at the same time.
Harry knew it would not last, and mourned its loss as it eventually began to fade out to white.
The teen felt a surge of panic what felt like, in his mind, a few seconds later when the white place already began to change to pink.
He thought he would have more time. Before, Harry was in the white place at least a little while before it began to change. He hadn't even prepared himself. He had only just begun to feel the shocks and jolts of energy.
Had to do it.
Have to do it.
Harry pushed on through.
There was still what felt like an explosion when he entered the red area, the burst and shocks of energy now pulsed through him continuously, not just in little jolts. When this had happened before, he had only stayed in the red for a few seconds. Now, Harry struggled to stay there longer. To try to understand. Try to find some answer.
It felt like fire.
Not much of an answer.
Harry felt his back connect with something, the pain from that melding together with the burn he was already experiencing. No backing out though. There had to be something here that would help. Something. Anything.
Harry became aware of his actual body beginning to shake, violently so, and he tried his best to concentrate in order to get the shaking to stop, worried that it would bring him out of his meditation before it was time.
It was then that Harry realized what was wrong.
He was fighting it
Fighting the red area.
Fighting whatever the hell was causing this pain through his body.
His magic.
'Just accept it,' he thought as he willed his body to relax.
It took some time, but soon the shakes began to diminish, as did—surprisingly—the burn and jolts that had been jumping from every nerve of his body. There was still something there, a type of current, but it did not feel like something with which he was internally waging war.
He could actually get use to this. Where the blue space flowed and the white place swirled, this one seemed to dance, jump, and otherwise to feats of great acrobatics.
It was then that Harry heard his name. The voice seemed to be far off in the distance or like it was coming through a very narrow pipe. At first, the teen thought it was his imagination, but as the voice grew just a bit louder, he realized it was Hermione calling out to him.
Putting his mind to work again, Harry fought to leave the red area in a more peaceful means; the crackle and burn came back as he faded back to white, but soon the soothing blue marched on it and finally gave way to black.
Harry opened his eyes.
His name was still being called.
"Up here!" Harry hollered as he looked around. Boxes were overturned and papers were scattered everywhere. He also realized that he was not in his original location, but had his back against one of the far walls, a good ten yards or so from where he had originally sat down. A hand rubbing the back of his head told him that he wasn't bleeding, though. A good sign.
He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the door. No one knew that he had come up here before to meditate and the phrase, "up here," left something to be desired.
Harry was halfway down the top flight of stairs as Remus came bounding up to meet him, he stopped short though as he got closer to the teen wizard. A weird look overtaking his slightly scarred face.
"What?"
"You went to the red area again, didn't you?" Remus asked as he continued to stare.
"Yea, why? Did I turn the house upside down again? Cause if so, then Severus is going to have my hide."
"No. No. The house did shake, but it was only for a moment."
"Just a moment?"
"Yes."
Well, that didn't seem too bad. Though is always threw him off just how much actual time passed as opposed to the time in his meditation, if the house shaking for a moment then maybe he was in the clear.
Still…
With the way Remus was looking at him, Harry knew that his little trip to the red area had left some sort of visible mark on him yet again.
Great. His hair probably had even more gray in it now.
Or worse, it was white.
Hermione and Ron finally came up the stairs and stood behind Remus.
"Harry, man, you can't go and hide like tha—holy shit," Ron said as he got close enough.
Hermione didn't even comment about the curse. She simply gaped.
The witch never gaped.
Studied, yes.
Gaped, never.
This was gaping.
"What?" Harry finally had the courage to ask. He heard yet another set of steps and looked over to see Severus ascend the stares to join the rest of the motley search party, grumbling the whole time.
"Absolutely no regard for secrecy. Just might as well announce to Voldemort and all his followers every detail about ourselves. Get it all out in the open. Bloody idiotic little Gryffindor thinking only after the fact and—"
Severus also fell silent when he finally reached the area where everyone else was standing, his eyes locking with Harry's.
Harry watched as the older wizards jaw went slack and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Now he was really starting to get worried.
"What?" He finally said again, his eyes still locked with Severus. "What's happened? My hair hasn't turned fuchsia, has it?" He tried for a little humor to mask his nervousness.
No one laughed.
"It really didn't, did it?"
"No," Hermione said faintly, "No, your hair is still a normal color. A few more grey hairs….Oh, Harry."
A few more grey hairs didn't sound too bad; just make him look a little bit older was all. The way Hermione said that last part though, almost like a condolence, let Harry know that they weren't talking about his hair at all.
"Something's happened. What's changed?" he finally asked as his eyes darting back and forth between his three-person audience, willing at least one of them to end this. As it was, Harry was about to break through the roadblock that they created to get to a bleedin' mirror.
"Please, say something."
Remus took a deep breath before he spoke. "Harry, I do not want you to panic."
Oh, now he was going to panic.
"Remember, don't panic, but, well, it's—it's your eyes."
Harry swallowed down around the instant lump in his throat and looked directly at Severus once again.
"Bloodshot?" he croaked out the question.
The Potions Master just gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. The young wizard had never seen the man look like this before.
Maybe he should just go back and hide in the attic.
"No, Harry," Severus finally said. Now Harry didn't know which he didn't like worse, the look, or Severus's tone of voice. It was almost gently. "Your eyes are not bloodshot."
No.
'No. No. No. No.'
"They are not green anymore either."
'Well, shit.'
Several hours later, Harry was sitting on the couch in the sitting room with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. Right after he had been told, Harry had pushed his way through the group to find a mirror. Any mirror. Any mirror. He went all over the house trying to find a mirror that told him differently. None did. Soon after, there was a flurry of activity as Remus and Severus tried to ascertain what effects on his magic the red area had induced. It was just now that he was finally able to get over the shock of what had happened and he was able to grieve.
Grieve the loss of his eye color.
His green eyes were now grey.
A very light grey.
It was almost as though they had lost all their pigment in one fail swoop.
Wait.
Scratch almost. They did.
He had grey eyes now.
Ron and Hermione had tried to bolster him up the entire time. They told him that it was okay. Hermione even checked his eyes and diagnosed that excluding his poor eyesight, his eyes were well and healthy. Ron kept telling him that it didn't matter. It had helped, but anytime he locked eyes with one of his friends, he couldn't deny that both of their faces fell just a bit. Saddened by the change. Harry pressed on his eyes harder, knowing it wouldn't help, but it made him feel better.
"I use to do something of that sort in my younger days. I enjoyed the little fireworks that would go off behind the eyelids. It always provided such entertainment during class when a professor got particularly boring."
Harry sighed as he heard Albus coming into the room. The dip in the couch let him know that the older man had sat down right beside him. The teen finally took his hands away from his eyes, opened them slowly, and then lolled his head to the side to into sparkling blue eyes. Albus gave a small sigh, but his face still had that twinkle and the soft expression.
"Remus and Severus have given me an update of your magical progress. Might I say that was quite a move to decide to try to tame your magical core, but I would expect no less."
Harry didn't really consider what he had done as "taming anything. He had just wanted the pain to go away. Putting the word taming in the mix made him thing of his magic as some wild beast and him needing a chair and a whip to keep it at bay. The thought almost made him smile. Almost.
"How do you feel?"
How should he answer that?
"I sneezed about half an hour ago and everyone's hair color stayed the same," Harry deadpanned.
"Ah, small victories," Dumbledore said as he unwrapped a small candy from his pocket. "Care for a sweet?"
Harry looked at the sweet, "Yea, sure. Why not."
The headmaster seemed genuinely surprised, but happily fished out another sweet to hand it to the teen. "Do you actually feel any changes, physically, mentally or magically, since your meditation?"
The younger wizard actually thought about this. Before now, he had only thought about how he was different physically now since he had lost….
Since his eyes…
Yea.
He had only thought about that.
Nothing else.
Now, he finally forced himself to think about other things. To actually take more of an inventory.
"I…I feel this constant—buzz I guess." Harry knew he wasn't describing this right, but he couldn't think of a better word. "Like I have too much caffeine in my system. Lights appear kinda brighter."
"Fascinating."
"Can I fight now?" he asked quietly as he sung further down on the couch.
Dumbledore sighed. "While I would like to tell you yes, I believe that we must take a full inventory of your magic and how it has been affected by your recent activities. Much like the last time, we have to know what we are up against. Plus, I daresay I am somewhat dying of curiosity myself." He finished with a small twinkle in his eyes. A joke.
Harry found himself offering a smile in return, even if he wasn't feeling all that up to it. It was just too hard to resist Albus when he was happy. He actually had a feeling that some of the reason he still had to wait had something to do with some strategy. Some part of these real life games of war.
It wasn't too long after that when Albus left Grimauld place. Harry had walked him to the foyer with the promise that he would wait until he had received the okay from Severus before he could return to battle and then promptly returned to the couch. He grabbed one of the throw pillows, brought it to his chest, and quickly buried his face in it. He didn't know how long he had stayed like that, lost in his own head, but he became aware of a presence in the room, a magic presence that he seemed to know.
"Hello Severus." He mumbled into the pillow. He didn't even hear a noise until he felt the man sit beside him on the couch; then again, Severus never made a noise when he walked.
"It seems you are also in procession of a more cognitive awareness of other's magical signatures."
"Can't it just be that I could smell you?"
"Do you want to lose your nose?"
"I'm already a bloody freak. Why not just add the icing on this proverbial cake."
"I did not know you possessed such a word in your vocabulary."
"What? Cake?"
"No, you lit—Oh for heaven's sake, take that damn pillow away this instant!"
Harry lethargically turned his head towards the person beside him, keeping his head resting on the pillow, and turned now light grey eyes towards Severus's dark ones. He felt a jab of pain race through him as Severus averted his eyes and the teen cursed himself as he felt tears welling up in his. It hadn't bothered him this much when Hermione or Ron did it. Nor Remus. Maybe this was just the last straw. Maybe Severus was just one person not looking him in the eyes too many and that's why it hurt the most.
Maybe.
"I want her eyes back," he said on a sob. Oh lord, he was crying.
The young wizard brought a hand up and began to rub the tears away almost violently, somehow still keeping his head on the pillow.
"It was the only thing of hers that I had. I…I just want them back. Everyone, from the time that I was small, told me how much my eyes reminded them of my mother. I…I just want her eyes back…that's all." It felt like he was dishonoring her by losing her eye color. The thought made his stomach roll and he buried his face in the cushion again. "I need them back." It sounded so broken.
There was a silence in the room, but the presence on the other end of the couch never left. Merely sat there quietly.
"Lily's eyes were darker."
Huh?
"Huh?"
"Your mother's eyes had some brown in them. Yours did not."
Harry tuned back to Severus, his eyes slightly red from crying and rubbing. "But—"
"While it is true that your eye color was very close in nature to that of Lily's and subsequently made individuals reconnect to her memory, the eye color you possessed previously was uniquely your own." The Potions Master might as well have been giving the weather report with the most matter-of-fact tone that he used. Harry could almost pretend that there was nothing wrong with Severus speaking like that. A voice that surprisingly brought him small touch comfort. "I must also say that while the loss of your eye color is—unexpected—it is certainly not a travesty."
Harry struggled to find something to say in response to that. "Then—then why is no one able to look me in the eye anymore? It's because of the green."
"No. It is because," Severus began; he shifted in his seat slightly, sitting up straighter, "since you found out, no one in the house can stand to see that look in your eyes. No matter what color they are."
Harry finally lifted his head from the pillow to fully look at Severus, finding himself staring right at him, meeting his eyes. The teen's eyes widened slightly at the intense look from the taller man.
Neither looked away.
Neither even blinked.
There are times when a perfectly rational person can forget the most basic of things.
At this point, if asked, Harry would draw a blank look about the topic of breathing.
Eventually, a noise from the back of the house brought both wizards back to their senses, the spell was broken. Harry blinked several times, his grey eyes screaming for moisture after staying open so long, and looked back at the throw pillow in his lap. He heard Severus clear his throat beside him.
"You may fight again."
Harry blinked slowly one last time as the quiet statement sunk in. "I beg your pardon?"
"You can and will return to active battle."
The teen opened his mouth, then closed it, then tried again. "Albus wanted me to wait. Said he wanted to wait till I got the okay from you."
"Did I not just give you the okay?"
"Well, yes, but—but I think he was wanted you to—like—test me or something. Like the last time."
"That is simply a matter of interpretation. If Albus has left the decision up to me, then it has been made. You may return to fighting."
Harry looked back at Severus. "Is this about my eyes? Why are you doing this? Before, you were all about proving that I could handle this power. Now that it is different again, all of a sudden it's okay?
The Potion Master sighed and stood from the old couch; Harry, for some reason, felt he should do the same, so he followed. Severus didn't move however, but just looked down at Harry.
"Have you noticed a change in your height of vision, Harry?"
The young wizard's brow knitted together in confusion. Height difference? But that would mean he was taller or shorter. He hoped to all that was good in the world that it wasn't shorter, and looking up at Severus didn't seem as far away as normal. That must mean—
"I grew!" he exclaimed as his eyes lit up. He was on the verge of a happy dance when Severus spoke next.
"No, you did not."
So much for the happy dance.
Ah, confusion is back again. It and Harry are old friends.
"Then what happened? I seem taller. I seriously doubt everything shrunk." Harry looked around the room just to make sure.
"Your feet are not touching the floor."
Three
Two
One
"Say what!?"
"Ever since you have come descended the staircase, your feet have remained constant four to five centimeters off any floor surface you are standing or walking on."
Harry's once knitted brows shot upward into his messy hairline. He looked down and, sure enough, there appeared to be an odd shadow under his feet, like light was able to get through.
He wasn't touching the ground.
He raised his head to meet dark eyes again, surprise still written all over the young face. Severus's face was its usually calm seriousness. "You may blame this all you want on your eyes, but that right there," he pointed down at Harry's feet, "is why I have given you the okay to fight again."
Harry thought he understood that…somewhat, so he nodded in agreement.
"Now," the taller wizard said as he straightened up and began to adjust the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt. "It is late. I am to assume that if I were to return to your own room, you would find little sleep this night?"
A shrug was all he got in reply. Harry was still too concerned with his feet.
"I thought not," the former professor gave a long sigh. "Follow me."
The older wizard turned on his heels and was off, making Harry nearly have to jog to catch up with him. It was a little harder since he was now hyper-aware of his feet and the fact that he was technically walking on air. Or his magic. Both very disconcerting thoughts.
"Shouldn't you be taking it easy?" the boy asked as they began to ascend the stairs.
The leader of this small trek simply snorted. "Yes. I am still such the cripple; that is why you are having trouble keeping up."
They made it to Severus's room, Harry still following with much thought as to why. He looked around the small, dim room, slightly lost. Severus rolled his eyes and pointed at the bed.
"Sleep. Now."
Harry's mouth dropped down slack. His eyes darting from the bed, to Severus's finger pointing to the bed, to Severus himself.
"You seem to be only able to sleep when you are in my bed. A most unfortunate of things, but as of the present moment, sleep should be the highest on your priorities and since you seem incapable of taking care of yourself, the decision has been reached. Bed. Now."
In a daze, Harry did what he was told. He looked down at the loose pair of jeans and quickly touched them with his pointer finger, transforming them into a pair of his plaid sleeping pants. Before he crawled under the blanket."
"Sleep," Severus ordered.
The teen's eyes snapped closed. Harry wondered what was going on that he was following all of this bizarre scenario without question. Maybe it was just because he was tired.
That was it.
He didn't sleep though, like ordered, until a short while later when the bed dipped down from an added person. Severus lying down on the other side. Gathering up all of his Gryffindor courage, Harry turned on the bed to face the Potion's Master, Slowly opening his eyes.
Severus gazed back at the familiar, yet now so unequivocally different eyes of the young wizard in front of him. He had not been lying when he had told Harry that his eye color was unique to him alone. It had been an intriguing eye color. So different. At first, when Severus had seen that Harry's eyes had changed, he had thought that his captivation with the young man's eyes would vanish. That the color had been the only thing that grasped and held his attention so. Now, looking into those same, now light grey eyes, he realized that the spark of life that the green eyes held was still present with this new eye color and Severus still found himself getting lost in those eyes.
"Sleep," he said again. It was still an order.
Honest.
Harry closed his light grey eyes for the second time.
Harry finally got his wish to return to combat when, about a week later, there were reports of a massive Death Eater attack on Ottery St. Catchpole. Just a little too close to the Burrow for everyone's tastes. The group living a Grimauld had apparated in to a hail of spell fire. Curses and Hexes flying this way and that.
It took Harry a moment to get his bearings back after being inactive for so long, but it was not long at all before all of the adrenaline and training and instincts came flooding back.
"Ron, Go check and see if you can locate the rest of your family! Hermione, go with him," he hollered over the commotion. He watched as the red head nodded and the two friends moved off on their own, already starting to cast spells of defense of their own.
Remus was already off. Harry knew that it was always his parent's friend's intention to be the one to catch Wormtail. This was just such a battle that the rat animagus was sure to be hiding somewhere. The werewolf was on the hunt.
"Luck!" Harry called out after him, a curse flying at him, but deflecting off to the ground.
Remus turned quickly. "Keep safe!"
And he was gone.
Severus stayed by his side, something Harry felt secretly relieved about. The older, ex-spy was appraising the situation in his usual calculating manor, casting shield charms whenever necessary, but keeping a cool head the whole time. He knew it was only a matter of time before his once supposed comrades realized the traitor was in their midst.
"Are you ready to prove that you can handle yourself out here?" He spoke out to his teenage comrade.
"Ready if you are!"
The spells began to fly.
Severus was back in his element. He could duel with the best of them. Better in fact. He had worn his black robes and he was, as far as he was concerned, the feared Potions Master once again. He could weave spell combinations that would boggle the average mind and was displaying his talent right now as he shot off a series of interconnected curses to one masked Death Eater that would, in the end, render the man incapacitated from confundus, but also unable to speak spells correctly. He knew he had been successful when he heard the other cast a spell that simply turned a tree blue. Not two spells later and that man was incapacitated and bound. He turned to locate his exact opposite on the battlefield.
Harry didn't even have to think spells anymore. It was hard to explain, but it was just as if he could just tell his magic what to do, and it would do it; all from just a wave or swipe of the hand. Even he knew that he was not that elegant anymore. Some of it, he reasoned, was not his fault. He was more like a tank and he was sure he would hear something about that later on. His magic provided a constant shield without him even thinking about it. A shield that, when he was able, he could extend over quite a large area to include Severus. It could not keep out some of the stronger spells, leaving Harry to duck and dodge every so often, but it did provide him with a fair amount of cover and allowed him to cast his stunning spells with more ease.
Also, he had been told by both Albus and Severus that he needed to keep his elemental manipulations a secret at this time, a strategy move that both older wizards felt would serve a greater purpose. Harry supposed that it would be best to keep that wild card under wraps for right now, but the move meant he was seriously limited as to what he could do. Many normal spells he performed too strongly, meaning that if he wanted to take the Death eaters alive, he couldn't throw things like cutting or stinging hexes. They wouldn't end pretty. So he mostly stuck with a simple stunning spell and plows his way through.
One by one, they Death Eaters that came up were knocked out and down. Some of the more powerful ones were able to dodge; some of the smarter ones ran away. Harry really wasn't concerned. He and Severus just moved through the city, trying to stop as many Death Eaters as possible.
Eventually, that number got less and less, and instead of encountering Death Eaters, they encountered the Weasley clan.
"Where's Dumbledore?" Ron asked as he jogged up to the teen and the Potions Master.
Harry hadn't even seen the headmaster there the entire time. "Here was here?"
Hermione nodded as she cast diagnosis charms over both Harry and Severus. "He was with Arthur and Molly when we found them. He had said that he was going to locate you."
He had never showed up.
Harry had the worst possible feeling.
Then, he felt two large magical bursts run through him like a freight train. A quick glance around let him know that he wasn't the only one that felt that.
They needed to find Albus.
Now.
The group made their way through the streets at a running pace, following the source of the magical bursts. Further and further outside the city they went until they were well outside of town. There were no other Death Eaters to encounter, which was either a good sign or an extremely bad sign.
Harry wasn't sure which.
They rounded up over a hill when they finally found Dumbledore of a short distance away and the cause of the magical bombardment.
He was battling Voldemort.
No.
Not anymore.
Harry stopped dead, as did the rest of the group. They watched in slow motion as Dumbledore look up to their direction slightly elevated on the hill. It was only for a split second, but Harry was sure everyone caught it as well. A very strange thought entered his mind. Albus was wearing his favorite, bright blue robes. They matched his eyes. He hadn't worn them in almost two years.
Oh.
Harry began to rush forward, his feet still not touching the ground beneath them, and now he was rising in elevation as he surged towards the two wizards. Distantly, he heard the footsteps of the rest of the group, or at least some of the others, following him. They weren't in time though.
A blindingly bright curse left Voldemort's wand and hit Dumbledore square in the chest; the silver bearded man almost putting up what seemed like no resistance to it at all. Voldemort let loose laughter that would chill even the coldest of hearts before he was gone in a swirl of flames and smoke. Harry could have sworn that he saw the maniac turn to smile at him as he apparated away, but he was more concerned about getting to his mentor and friend who was lying a few yards away where the curse had flung him.
He wasn't getting up.
Thank you so, so much for reading Chapter 13!!
1 – In regards to the Dinah comment. Where I grew up, the song, "Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah", is such a well-known song that there is a running gag that if you say, "__________ is in the kitchen." Chances are, someone is going to finish that statement "with Dinah." I couldn't resist the joke. If you don't know the song, try looking it up.
Teaser for Next Chapter:
I am tired of playing these games!
Reviews are loved!