Chapter 22: Sharing Pain

While the OWLs had been the study focus for fifth-years, that didn't mean they could forego regular exams. Hermione had schedules for them all made out, as usual. Harry thought that he would be glad when it was all behind them, but then remembered that exams being over meant back to the Dursleys and away from his friends. He tried to focus on the positive things, like Quidditch and flying. Knowing that he wouldn't fly all summer made him reluctant to get off his broom after practices.

When he was in Potions class, he avoided looking at Snape. He hadn't tried to press the issue. Harry had been afraid that Snape would try to link minds, talk to him, perhaps even insist on it in his usual arrogant and cutting way. But it seemed almost as if Snape was avoiding him too. He never called on Harry, or commented on his brewing. If he was trying to eliminate the bond they had begun, then Harry thought that was alright.

Ron had told them that his family would be travelling to Romania for part of the summer. Charlie had invited them for a special ceremony celebrating the hatching of rare dragon eggs. It seemed that the Siberian Ruby-Eyed Dragon only laid once a century, and one was due to hatch sometime in June. Hermione and her parents had plans to cruise the Mediterranean Sea. The Dr.'s Granger would be attending a Dental Conference in Rome, and they would all wander the city while there. As Harry listened to them talk about their upcoming summer, he had to try very hard not to flippantly throw out his own plans; Well, I suppose I might do the yard and plant a few shrubs. The Dursley do enjoy my green thumb. And it might be nice to get beaten once a week, twice if I can talk Uncle Vernon into it. He hates to spoil me too much, you know. The thought of the looks on his friends' faces was enough to keep him from voicing his thoughts out loud. He hated it when they felt sorry for him. He would simply have to endure his usual oppressive summer, and hope that his cousin and his uncle had other physical outlets for their ire this year.

On Friday at dinner, the table was lamenting how they would have to spend the warm, sunny Saturday studying for finals. The only highlight would be the remaining Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. House points were pretty much even, so the winner of the game was sure to win the House Cup. Voices were loud and boisterous throughout the hall. Harry sat laughing with Ron and Hermione, enjoying the camaraderie that came from the last weeks of school.

Grabbing up several pieces of fruit, Hermione stood, saying, "Come on, you two. Let's knock out a session or two tonight and then you'll have more free time after the match tomorrow."

Harry and Ron selected their own snacks for later and left the hall in her wake. In the Common Room, they pooled their food into a basket and began laying out books, notes and parchment. Harry had picked up his quills and ink when it suddenly felt like his left forearm was on fire. He dropped the ink pot, not caring that it splashed ink across the stones as it shattered. He fell to his knees as he yanked up the sleeve of his robe, looking for the source of the agony. Unbelievably, there was nothing to see there. But the pain throbbed until it was reaching his shoulder. He clutched his arm to his chest as Ron and Hermione hurried to his side.

"What is it?" Hermione asked anxiously, as Ron laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry shook his head, trying to think past the pain.

'Occlude it, Harry!'

'What?' He lifted his eyes, sure he would see Snape beside him, his voice was so near. He saw only his friends kneeling there beside him on the floor.

Snape's voice came again, 'It's the mark. I am being summoned. You must Occlude as hard as you can. He cannot know that you can feel this.'

Harry squeezed his eyes shut with a moan. 'Merlin, I never thought it hurt like this! It's almost as bad as my scar!'

'Stop babbling and Occlude! Now, Potter!'

Harry reached within himself and raised the protective forces of his mind as high as they had ever gone. When he opened his eyes again after several long minutes, he saw Ron and Hermione looking pale and shaken. He smiled weakly. "If you think it looks bad, be glad you aren't on the receiving end."

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione questioned urgently.

Harry got to his feet, still rubbing his left arm, even though the pain had gone after he successfully occluded it. "Voldemort is calling Snape. His Dark Mark is burning," he said quietly.

"And you can feel that? I thought you could just talk to him in your head. I didn't think you meant he could send actual pain to you." Ron frowned angrily.

'Snape's not sending it to me on purpose. I think I can feel it because he feels it so intensely. He told me to occlude as hard as I can to keep Voldemort from finding out I can feel it."

Harry sat down on the sofa. He wondered what Snape was doing now. Was he in Voldemort's presence yet? What was going on? He realized that he felt worry for his teacher; worry and anxiety that he would be alright. What if Voldemort had found out about the link? What if he asked Snape to take advantage of it? Would he follow Voldemort's orders? Knowing that there wasn't anything he could do at the moment, he looked back at Hermione.

"Quiz me on Charms. Then Transfiguration. That's where I'm weakest."

Hermione gave him a long considering look before taking up her notes and sitting beside him. Ron sat down on the other side and they began to go through Hermione's notes.

Harry was calling out answers to her questions when the scar on his forehead seemed to rip apart. He cried out as he clutched it in both hands. He thought that he would never be able to achieve any higher Occlumency, but the pain spurred him on to try. He could almost hear Snape yelling at him to occlude harder. He was able to subdue it only until it was more tolerable. When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was on the floor, curled into a foetal position, still holding the sides of his head as if to keep it from exploding. Ron was there, rubbing his back. Fellow Gryffindors were gathered loosely around, reluctant to come too close. Harry tried to roll over onto his back, but the agony intensified with movement. He thought he would be sick, and swallowed hard to force bile back down when he felt it coming up.

Professor McGonagall hurried into the room, followed by Hermione. In another moment, Professor Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace.

McGonagall motioned to all the other students away. "Go to your dormitories. There is nothing to see here. It is being taken care of."

Ron and Hermione stood their ground when she raised an eyebrow at them. Ron shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "We're not leaving him. Not when he's like this."

Once the room was empty of students, Dumbledore looked at them with piercing eyes. "What happened?"

Hermione summarized, "We were studying and Harry suddenly felt what he said was the Dark Mark as Professor Snape was summoned. He seemed better after he occluded more. He said he heard Professor Snape tell him to do it as hard as he could so Voldemort wouldn't find out about their connection." Dumbledore looked at her sharply and Hermione hurried on, "Harry told us about it the other night after we got back from our weekend trip. Anyway, he was better; we were back to studying and his scar started hurting so badly - well we don't think he was even aware of us anymore. He was on the floor, all curled up and he was in so much pain that Ron and I knew we had to get help."

She took a shaky breath upon finishing.

Dumbledore knelt beside Harry and placed a hand on his brow. Closing his eyes, he tried to reach into his mind. He thought he felt something, but it was not clear and without eye contact, he wouldn't be able to determine anything. He sighed and sat back on his haunches. Legilimency might be an option, but it could be dangerous both to himself and Harry, if it opened a conduit to Voldemort. For a moment, he wished he could connect to Harry as Snape was able to. He bent and spoke softly, "Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry stirred slightly and then nodded, opening his eyes. They were filled with torment and Dumbledore knew he was using everything in him to keep the cries silent and his barrier against Voldemort intact. His breaths were coming rapid and shallow. Dumbledore squeezed Harry's shoulder. "You are stronger than you know," he said softly. "Severus has given you the ability to resist Voldemort as much as he can. Use that, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes again. They could see him draw into himself, focusing his energy. Bit by bit his face relaxed, and he seemed to be breathing slower. The four gathered around him started to relax as well. McGonagall looked sternly at Hermione and Ron. They met her look with determined ones of their own, knowing she was about to try again to get them to leave.

Ron shook his head at her, "Honestly, Professor, how can you think we'd leave? He's our best mate. Whatever he's going through, we're right here with him. You'll have to hex us if you really want us gone."

McGonagall's face softened. She knew they were all as close as friends could ever be. In her heart she knew that the two in front of her would give their very life for Harry. But the teacher and the woman in her wanted so badly to protect all of them from harm. She would give her own life if it meant they would never have to see this war.

Dumbledore stood up and turned to them. "We'll use the Floo to get him to the hospital wing. He will need time to recover." He said that as if he thought Harry was past the ordeal and ready for recovery. He was wrong.

With lightning speed, Harry flew to his feet and grabbed Dumbledore by the front of his robes. His eyes were wide and wild, the green almost electric. "He's got Snape! He's got him! He's hurting him! Oh god -" He would have been climbing up Dumbledore if he got any closer. His fists were bunched in the cloth of the robes, pulling frantically. "Help me! Tell me how to stop it! He's going to kill him! Oh my god!"

The others were standing stunned at the outburst. The sheer force of emotion in Harry had them all shocked into immobility. Dumbledore calmly closed his hands around Harry's. "Minerva, call Poppy. Tell her we need a Calming Draught and sleeping potion for Harry before we can move him." To Harry he whispered soothing noises, breathless incantations for calming his soul and urging him to keep occluding.

Madame Pomfrey Flooed through and with McGonagall's help managed to get Harry to swallow the potions. As soon as Harry fell into unconsciousness, she levitated him to the fireplace and on to the hospital ward. Dumbledore and McGonagall followed close behind.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, still stunned. They had seen Harry in the throws of pain with his scar before. They had seen him scared, angry, depressed, happy, and sad. But they had never seen the desperate, frantic Harry they just witnessed. They moved into each others arms without a word. Words would be useless anyway.

Madame Pomfrey pulled the covers up to Harry's shoulders. "He should sleep through the night. But this isn't like anything he's been through before. He hasn't been directly cursed, but all the signs he exhibits are as if he were."

Dumbledore looked down at the boy in the bed. Even with the calming draught his face was tense and furrowed. After a few moments, his blue eyes looked at the mediwitch and Deputy Headmistress. His voice was heavy, "You had best get another bed prepared for Severus, Poppy." I'll go down to his quarters to wait for him."

McGonagall looked at him in surprise, "Surely you don't think Potter really felt something Severus was experiencing?"

"Yes, Minerva. He is experiencing whatever is happening at the moment. The link between them has become quite strong."

"But why, Albus? What happened to bring this on?"

"Fate happened." He met her stare steadily. "The First Prophecy concerning Harry has come to pass, at least in part."

McGonagall looked astonished. "First Prophecy? You mean the one Sybill made?"

"I am speaking of the one made by Sybill's grandmother." Dumbledore looked down at Harry contemplatively before continuing. "Actually, Harry is secondary in the First Prophecy. Severus is the one it concerns."

McGonagall's eyebrows disappeared at that. She stared at the headmaster and then she too looked down at Harry. She asked quietly, "How long have you known of it? Does Severus know?"

"I have known about the prophecy since my days as colleague with Cassandra." He looked at McGonagall steadily. "No. Severus does not know of it. Until recently, I have been unsure if he was in fact the one it speaks of."

"Are you certain now?" she asked, her voice holding a hint of doubt.

"What Harry is experiencing right now leads me to believe it."

When Dumbledore didn't elaborate, she leaned towards him impatiently. "Well? What is the prophecy?"

He gave her a small smile. "As much as I take you into my confidence, Minerva, I feel that I must first discuss it with Severus. He already suspects that I know something he does not about the bond he shares with Harry."

She gazed down at the boy. His face was very pale and he twitched frequently. It was not a restful sleep he was having. Not really wanting to know, she asked, "Are you sure he will be coming back?"

Dumbledore looked at her sadly. "Severus is valuable to Voldemort. Unless he betrays him in a way that Voldemort absolutely cannot abide, he won't kill him. He believes that Severus is loyal to him and that he does what he must to pacify me. It may be a close thing, but Severus will come home. We must be ready, though. If Harry's unrest is any indication, he has been terribly injured."

They both turned when they heard the sounds of clearing throats. Ron and Hermione stood there uncertainly. Hermione spoke quickly, "Please, Professors! We can't let him be by himself. We've never seen him this bad before. We need to be here … he needs us to be here."

Both older wizards looked at each other and then back at the two young people by the door. At a nod from them both, Ron hurried to pull up two chairs close to the bed. Hermione laid a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder and whispered, "Harry, we won't leave you alone. We might not understand all that you're feeling about Professor Snape and this link you have … but we love you. Whatever happens, we are your friends. You're our brother …" Her voice cracked with emotion. Ron put a hand over hers. They huddled against the side of the bed then, determined to keep watch. McGonagall conjured a chair of her own and settled on Harry's other side.

Dumbledore looked at McGonagall and then Pomfrey. "I will wait for Severus in his quarters. Be ready. We may have to move him quickly." He strode to the fireplace and disappeared.

Madame Pomfrey began setting up another bed, a table along side it. On this, she assembled an array of bottles and vials. A basin with warm water and clean cloths were laid, as well. Once she sat up a privacy screen, she came to Harry's bedside. After performing several more diagnostic spells, she spoke quietly to Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall, "He won't wake any time soon. The potions have him heavily sedated. You should all take turns and rest, if you insist on being with him."

None of them moved to leave, and after a few minutes, she walked away. Normally, she would insist on her no visitor rules at this time of night. But this had not been a normal situation in the hospital wing. This was not the normal way Harry's hospital stays usually proceeded. She supposed to herself that she could always shoo them out if Severus came in. Feeling like she was as ready as she could be, she retreated to her office to wait.

A little after midnight found Ron leaning against the window, staring out into the black night. Hermione had laid her head on the bed as she leaned against it. McGonagall was dozing in her own chair. The Floo roared to life. Dumbledore's voice shouted urgently, "Poppy! I need you on this side." She hastened to answer his summons, vanishing in the flames.

Ron stood away from the window and looked at Hermione. She stood up with McGonagall and they all stared into the fireplace apprehensively. It was only seconds later that Dumbledore stepped through, holding up Snape. As they staggered into the room, Pomfrey followed, speeding around them and grabbing Snape's other arm. She led them to the ready bed and they lowered him gently. Hermione and McGonagall gasped loudly and Ron cursed under his breath.

Snape was only recognizable by the black robes he wore, and the black hair hanging over his face. The face itself was bloody and swollen, his eyes closed behind purple slits. A groan of pain escaped the bleeding lips as they straightened his limbs. Madame Pomfrey waved her wand and moved the privacy screen, shutting off their view. The teenagers and McGonagall exchanged looks of horror, as they sat back slowly into their seats. Behind the screen, Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore seemed to work efficiently as a team, administering potions, murmuring healing spells, consulting each other when unsure of a next step.

The frenetic activity stopped and Pomfrey spoke, "We have done what we can for now, Albus. He's so broken … what in Merlin's name did they do to him?"

"Will he regain consciousness before morning?" they heard Dumbledore ask quietly.

"I don't believe so -" the quiet discussion continued.

"Harry?" Snape whispered weakly.

Pomfrey gasped, "It shouldn't be possible!"

Before anyone could process that, Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes wide. For a moment he stared in confusion at those around his bed. Ron made a move to lay a hand on his arm, but in seconds, Harry was up. He ran to the screen, flinging it aside. He stood for a moment, breathing heavily, looking at the man on the bed in front of him.

"You're alive… you came back…" he murmured.

A pale hand reached out toward Harry. Moving forward, Harry clasped it, lacing the fingers together. No one could say anything as they watched the two of them. Harry moved closer to the bed, his eyes full of pain. The man on the bed was gasping in pain as the clenched hands squeezed on shattered bones, but he drew the boy closer. Harry was sinking downward, and Dumbledore waved a chair over just in time for Harry to sit instead of fall. With one hand in Snape's, Harry reached with his other to smooth back the hair from the bruised face. He breathed a sigh and laid his head over and on the wizard's chest. Snape's other hand crept up until it lay on top of Harry's head. No one could hear them as they spoke.

'You could've told him - he would have rewarded you.'

'I want no reward from him.'

'Your pain is unbearable.'

'Yet I seem to be bearing it, Potter,' came the sarcastic reply.

'I felt it when he started cursing you. How can you survive that?'

'If he had meant to kill me, he would have. He was attempting to extract information from one of his own. He trusts me and he doesn't want to lose an inner circle Death Eater. He pushed to the limit to make a point to me and the others that treachery won't be tolerated.'

'I didn't trust you before. I'm sorry.'

'Blind trust is never wise. I would say you were being cautious. That was wise.'

'What can I do to make this better? I feel like I should be able to do something to help you.'

'You are helping, Harry. You are here.'

'You didn't leave me alone when I needed you. I won't leave you either.'

'Thank you … can you sleep now?'

'Now that I know you're safe - yes. If they will let me stay here.'

'I do believe that they are all quite shocked into speechlessness at the moment. But I do not think Albus will let anyone separate us … he knows something … I'll get it out of the coot when this is past …'

'Coot? I'm going to tell him you said that.'

'Don't be juvenile. He's heard worse from me, I assure you.' Snape shifted slightly, moaning aloud at the effort. 'I am tired.'

'Rest. Like I said, I'll be here.'

The other people in the room had been watching, knowing something was being communicated between Harry and Snape, but not knowing what it was. The badly injured man seemed to relax, drifting into real sleep. The boy kept his head on the man's chest, one hand still gently intertwined with his. The other hand wound its fingers in the black hair of the teacher's head. Slowly, his breathing levelled out and grew restful, and they knew that Harry slept, too.

When Madame Pomfrey made as if to transfer him back to his own bed, Dumbledore stopped her. "They need to be together right now, Poppy. Leave them be."

With a reluctant nod, the mediwitch conjured a blanket. After laying it over Harry's shoulders, she waved the lights down low. The four observers sank into chairs, reluctant to leave their vigil.

When the dawn began to lighten the room, Harry stirred. Dumbledore stood and came up beside him. Madame Pomfrey awoke at his movement and joined him. She waved her wand over Snape.

"He has mended extraordinarily quickly. There is still a great deal of damage, but the critical injuries are almost gone." She looked at the Headmaster. "The potions alone could not have done this."

Dumbledore nodded. "More of the prophecy coming to bear, I think … just continue whatever ministrations are necessary, Poppy. You may find things proceed at an unusual pace. It shouldn't interfere with your work."

Pomfrey turned to gather more potions on the table. The others in the room began waking and stretching. Ron yawned loudly and getting a good look at Snape with Harry still huddled protectively over him, he shook his head. Then with a look of surprise, he walked to the bed.

"His face isn't swollen anymore. I didn't think potions could work that fast."

"They can't." Hermione said simply, as she walked over beside him. "The link they share must allow Harry to aid Professor Snape's healing." She looked over at Madame Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore for confirmation of her theory. They gave her a smile and a nod.

Ron was looking at how Harry still had hold of Snape's hand. He tried to push down the irritation he felt that Harry would be getting so close to the Potions Master. No matter what Harry had told them, he couldn't believe that Snape was on the right side.

Harry lifted his head. Silently, he took in the form on the bed. The eyes were still bruised, but no longer swollen shut. Other bruises on the face were fading. Tentatively, Harry moved his hand. Snape's eyes opened and he turned his head to look at Harry. They just looked into each others eyes for a few minutes, before Harry finally nodded. He stood up, gently releasing the man's hand. Turning to his friends, he gave them a small smile.

"Thanks for being here. I appreciate it, even if some were not so happy to have an audience." He gave a satisfied smirk at Snape as he spoke. Snape merely rolled his eyes silently. Harry stretched then and looked at Dumbledore. "I hope you give him the explanations he wants from you. It's one thing to keep things from me. I don't like it, but I get that I'm just a kid. He needs the information to be able to function."

From the bed, Snape growled, "What I do not need is for you to defend me, Potter. He will tell me what he knows when he is ready." The obsidian eyes met the blue ones fiercely. "I believe he will be ready when all the Gryffindors leave the room."

Harry grinned then, knowing that the friendship between the men would survive whatever scorn he heard in Snape's voice. He turned to his friends. "I'm starved. Let's go eat. There's a Quidditch game I need to win this morning."

He walked out ahead of Ron and Hermione who wore identical surprised faces. Breakfast? Quidditch? They had assumed that Harry would be unable to leave the hospital wing, let alone go to breakfast and prepare to play Quidditch. They followed along behind him after letting their gazes linger on the Potions Master. He looked to be feeling surly and they were glad to be leaving his presence before he subjected everyone to his scorching tirade.

Dumbledore looked at the two women. "If you would give us some time alone, I must speak at length with Severus."

Pomfrey protested, "He has been severely injured and needs to be left to heal, Albus."

"If you will examine him, I believe that you will find his recovery is occurring rather more quickly than is usual."

With a huff of disbelief, Pomfrey waved her wand, performing a diagnostic spell. Her eyes widened and she rapidly spelled him again, and then again. Her eyes were still wide as she nodded finally. "You are right. The bones have mended already. The internal injuries he sustained are all but gone. The surface bruising is all that remains." She shook her head then. "But that's not possible. He should still be unconscious. The healing spells and potions require at least twenty-four hours to work properly. I have not even given him the next dosage yet!"

Dumbledore laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "Poppy, it is difficult to explain what is just now becoming evident to me. Be assured that that this is possible in this case. Give him the next dosing, if it helps you, but he most likely doesn't need it."

Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at the thought that her help wasn't needed. Pouring some potions together in a goblet, she held them out for Snape. With a steady hand he took it and downed the contents. They could all see that even the bruising was beginning to fade.

Pomfrey swept from the room and retreated to her office.

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore as if asking to be included. After Dumbledore gave her a small smile and a shake of his head, she nodded to them both and walked out of the hospital ward.

Snape sat up straighter in the bed, biting back a grimace caused by the discomfort he still felt in his bones and muscles. Raising dark eyes to the familiar blue ones, he growled,
"It is past time for you to share what you know. I believe that last night earned me that right."

Dumbledore sat down in a vacated chair, looking at Snape for a long moment. Then, "There was another prophecy made about Harry. This one was made a very long time ago, by Cassandra Trelawney."

"Why have you not mentioned this before?"

"I have never been certain that it was a true prophecy. Sometimes they are not, you know. In any case, after Sybill made her prophecy, it was clear about who Harry was and what his destiny is. This prophecy was not ever clear until recent events began to fall into place with it."

Snape regarded Dumbledore silently. His voice was low when he asked, "What does this have to do with me? You said the other night that this was meant to work out. Explain, if you will."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, a gnarled hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. "The First Prophecy has more to do with another person who will assist Harry in fulfilling his own."

Believing that he really wanted to know the answer, Snape asked, "And this person is?"

"I believe it refers to you, Severus."