BISCUITS WITH A SIDE OF BETRAYAL

by Warviben

Summary: Voldemort has been defeated, and Harry has returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. He approaches Severus Snape, who has survived Nagini's bite, for information regarding his mother. Snape proposes a trade.

Warnings: This fic will eventually contain a relationship between the two male lead characters. If this sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, please save yourself the stress of reading further. Also, there is contained herein a description of the sexual abuse and attempted rape of a child.

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Chapter Twenty-one

"We have reached your fifth year," Snape said as they sat down to their customary tea and biscuits in his quarters. "A year which was preceded by an eventful summer."

"I'll say," Harry said, munching a biscuit. "Dementors in Little Whinging!"

"Sent there by Dolores Umbridge."

"Yeah. That was just the first sign of a year that was going to be bloody hell from start to finish."

"So tell me about the dementors. Unless that violates our rule that prohibits talking about home life."

"No, that should be safe," Harry said with a slight smile. "It was night. I was out walking." He didn't tell Snape he'd been brooding in the play park about the lack of contact that he'd had with his friends that summer, or the confrontation he'd hoped to have with Dudley and his friends, or his baiting of Dudley as they'd walked back to the Dursleys together. That was really irrelevant to the issue of dementors. "My cousin was with me. It was really hot that day, but suddenly, it was cold, and all the street lamps went out. I knew instantly what it was. Dudley could feel the cold and the despair, but had no idea what had caused it, of course. Thought it was me. He freaked out and hit me, made me drop my wand. He started to run right at them. I was able to conjure a patronus and chased them away."

Of course, there was more to the story than that, but he certainly wasn't going to go into detail about how his uncle had reacted.

"And as a result of that incident, you were summoned to a hearing before the Ministry."

"Yes. I got a letter that night saying I'd been expelled. But then another letter arrived, telling me to stay put, that Dumbledore was trying to get the expulsion overturned. Then I got another letter saying that I was only being suspended, not expelled. It was an interesting night all around."

"Mmm. Sounds like it."

"Something else happened that night. Aunt Petunia mentioned you."

Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your aunt mentioned me?"

"Well, not by name. I was explaining what had happened, and I told them about the dementors. My uncle asked what those were, and my aunt said they guarded the wizard prison. I was shocked, of course, that she knew that. I asked her how. She said 'that awful boy' had mentioned them once to my mother. At the time, I thought she meant my father, but of course, after I saw your memories, I knew she meant you.

"She also got a letter from Dumbledore that night. Of course, I didn't figure out who it was from until later. It said something cryptic like, 'remember my last.' It obviously meant something to her, because she refused to let Uncle Vernon toss me out of the house."

"Your uncle was going to throw you out?"

"Well, I'd gotten his precious son injured, hadn't I?"

"But Petunia made him let you stay?"

Harry nodded. "She wasn't happy about it, but she'd been reminded of her duty. I suppose I should have been grateful, but . . . they never made it easy."

Harry had ventured into talking about his family for the first time, and Snape thought it best to steer him away from that before he realized it and became self-conscious about it.

"Albus was beside himself when he heard you'd been suspended. He stormed off to the Ministry in a hail of whirling robes and righteous indignation."

Harry really didn't want to talk about his relationship with Albus Dumbledore that year, either. He remembered acutely the way he'd felt when Dumbledore had ignored him, refusing even to look him in the eye. He knew now the reason behind the old man's actions, but he'd never forget the feeling of being left behind by the man he'd come to worship.

"He came to my hearing," Harry said. "If he hadn't, I would have been convicted, and I would have been expelled from school. You likely would have never seen me again, if you want to look at the bright side," he joked.

"That would not have been the bright side," Snape said seriously.

"You might have thought so back then," Harry pointed out.

Snape tipped his head in concession. "Were you frightened at the hearing?"

"Yes," Harry said honestly. "They had the power to snap my wand. It amazed me that given everything I had to lose, at the age of fifteen, I wasn't even allowed to have an adult in the room with me. I asked Mr. Weasley to go in with me, but he said he couldn't. What kind of justice system is it that can rob a child of his education and his very way of life without even providing him with an advocate or allowing him to obtain one on his own? If Dumbledore hadn't been Dumbledore, he probably wouldn't have been allowed in either. Fudge had already made his mind up, and certainly other members of the Wizengamot would have sided with him. I would have been expelled and cut loose from wizarding society, and likely Voldemort would have had little trouble tracking me down and picking me off."

"But you were not expelled, and you came back to school to rumor and suspicion," Snape noted.

"Yeah. Nothing new there. What was new was that I could see the thestrals."

"Because of Diggory," Snape stated.

Harry nodded. "I'd never even thought about what powered the carriages before that. Just assumed it was magic. Strange that we don't learn about thestrals until fifth year. There must be younger kids who can see them. Neville and Luna were able to see them from the day they started school."

"They can be rather dangerous, under the right circumstances. It is perhaps wiser to wait until students have attained a certain level of maturity before exposing them to close contact with the creatures."

"Hmm, I suppose," Harry said. "But we started off the year without Hagrid and with yet another Defense teacher."

"Umbridge," Snape growled.

"Well, yeah, she was a right bitch in that very first lesson. But perhaps you shouldn't be casting stones, eh? I remember the first potions lesson of that year. You vanished my potion, so I didn't get any marks at all. Git!"

"That was a particularly contentious year, wasn't it?" Snape remembered. "We might do better now to try and put that behind us. All I can do now is apologize for the way I treated you and tell you that I am grateful that despite my treatment of you, you were able to obtain an E on your OWL."

Harry forced the anger back down where it came from. He could live with that. "Yes. We can vent all of our anger on Umbridge. She gave me detention in that very first class and sent me to McGonagall with a note. McGonagall warned me to watch my step with Umbridge, but she just made me so angry."

"So now would be an appropriate time to tell me what she did to you in those detentions."

"What do you mean?" Harry innocently, giving himself away by rubbing the back of his right hand.

"Let's not equivocate," Snape suggested. "We teachers were aware that something was going on in those detentions, but no one ever came to one of us and complained. What exactly was she doing to you?"

Harry glared angrily at Snape. "You knew something was happening, and no one cared enough to ask?!"

"None of my Slytherins were ever given detention by Umbridge," Snape said. "It wasn't my place to question her."

"Apparently it wasn't anyone's place," Harry noted sourly.

"Would you have admitted what was going on if someone had questioned you?"

"I don't know. The evidence was a little difficult to hide, if anyone had cared enough to look."

"Evidence?" Snape said with a puzzled expression.

Harry thrust his hand under Snape's nose. Snape grabbed hold of the hand and lowered it so he could actually see it. The words were still clearly legible. "I must not tell lies," he said, tracing a finger over the letters. He looked up at Harry, horrified now. "She used a charmed quill on you?"

Harry pulled his hand away. "Every time I had detention with her."

Snape took Harry's hand again, this time very gently, and rubbed a thumb over the scar there. "I have a potion that may fade these scars some. Charmed quills use dark magic, so it will not completely disappear, but I think we could lessen it somewhat."

Harry turned his hand over and twined his fingers through Snape's. "Thank you, sir," he said. "I would appreciate that."

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter, that not one of us intervened with Umbridge when she was abusing you in this way."

Harry shrugged. "It's too late to worry about that now," he said. "I survived."

"Yes, you survived," Snape said with a sigh. "Yet another thing that you had to endure."

"The quidditch ban was worse," Harry said.

Snape let go of Harry's hand, belatedly realizing how inappropriate it was to sit here holding the hand of a student.

"Yet again, you survived," Snape noted.

"Yeah, I did. At the time it seemed like the worst thing that had ever happened to me. We hadn't been able to play the previous year because of the tournament, and then when I got banned . . . Merlin, but I missed quidditch!"

"Well, at least your lifetime ban turned into only a one-year ban. That had to be some consolation when you returned for your sixth year."

"Yes, but then Sirius was gone, and nothing I'd thought was so vital before seemed important any more."

"I would imagine," Snape murmured, trying to sound sympathetic. "Let me get that salve for you," he said after a moment of heavy silence.

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"Professor McGonagall called me up to her office today," Harry told Snape at their next meeting.

"Oh? And what did our erstwhile headmistress want with you?"

"She said she thought I was ready to take my NEWT in Transfiguration, and she wondered why I hadn't approached her about taking it yet."

Snape considered this. "And do you feel that you are ready to take your Transfiguration NEWT?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess so."

"Is there a reason that you are procrastinating?"

"If I don't have Transfiguration anymore, I'd only have one class left. What would I do with all that spare time?"

"That is a dilemma that many teachers wish they faced," Snape observed. "Have you decided yet what you wish to do with your life?"

"No."

"Then perhaps you could use some of that copious spare time to research the possibilities. Identify potential careers that you might have interest in, then investigate them – talk to members of those professions, follow them around for a day to see for yourself what they do and whether it interests you."

"I could do that," Harry supposed.

"There is also a myriad of opportunities for you to volunteer. At St. Mungo's. At a children's home. There are any number of Muggle charities that would be thrilled to have an able-bodied young man donate his time and energy. You could assist some of the teachers here, with marking and classroom preparation. Your dear friend Hagrid would no doubt love to have your assistance."

"I already spend half my time with Hagrid," Harry confessed. And he did. Hagrid was the only person here (aside from Snape) whose company Harry craved. He missed Ron and Hermione with an ache that was bone-deep. Writing letters and seeing them infrequently was just not enough. When Hagrid wasn't in class, Harry could almost always be found at the hut, helping Hagrid tend his various critters, writing his lesson plans out for him, helping him to mark homework.

"My point is that you have options."

"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "I guess there's not much more I need to know to take the exam. Professor McGonagall made that pretty plain. I suppose I'll take it."

"I have no doubt but that you will do well," Snape said graciously.

"Do you . . . do you think I'm ready for the Potions NEWT, Professor?"

Snape considered this carefully. "You have made great strides this year, Mr. Potter. I never thought I'd say this, but you have the makings of a fine brewer."

"Thanks," Harry said, flushing to the roots of his hair.

"Were you to take your NEWT now, I believe that you would do quite well. However, I do believe there are one or two other things I could teach you."

Harry looked up at Snape. "I want to learn everything that you can teach me, Severus." His voice was low and full of hope and promise. Snape was unable to look away from the frank appraisal in those green eyes. Finally, he forced himself to tear his gaze away, and he cleared his throat.

"Tell me what happened the night Arthur Weasley was attacked."

Harry smiled at the obvious diversion, but he said, "It was the night I kissed Cho Chang."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Don't act surprised. I know you saw that memory during Occlumency."

"I did," Snape confessed, "briefly. Was that the only time?"

"A man should have some secrets, don't you think?" Harry said coyly.

"Hmm. Mr. Weasley," Snape prompted.

"Yeah. I was asleep. I had a dream. Or a vision. I was inside Nagini, and I attacked Mr. Weasley. I woke up everyone in the dorm. My scar was killing me. I threw up. Someone went to get McGonagall. She took me to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore had been refusing to look at me all year, and that night, as I was telling him what I'd seen, he was looking everywhere but at me. He knew, of course. He knew what had happened, that I hadn't had a dream or a vision, that Voldemort had unknowingly sent those images to me. If he'd only thought to tell me, if I'd only known . . . Anyway, he sent one of the portrait people to check on Mr. Weasley, and he sent Phineas Nigellus to tell Sirius we were coming. Professor McGonagall went and got the rest of the Weasleys, and we all portkeyed to Grimmauld Place. But there was a moment, just before we were pulled away, when I met Dumbledore's eyes. Something happened. I felt this surge of hatred, and I wanted to kill him. Voldemort was still in my head.

"It was a really long night, waiting at Grimmauld Place for some word of Mr. Weasley's condition. I tried to talk to Sirius about what was going on inside me, but he just brushed off my concerns. I think he must have known – Dumbledore had probably told him. Even Sirius refused to tell me. If they had told me, if I had known that it was possible for that to happen, I would have questioned what happened later."

"That's what the occlumency was for," Snape pointed out.

"Yes, but no one ever told me that. Don't you think that if I had known that I would have tried harder to learn? No one ever told me why it was so important. No one trusted me with the knowledge that would have prevented Sirius' death."

"I'm sure it is no consolation now, but I argued from the first that keeping information from you was not going to be helpful."

"You thought Dumbledore was coddling me," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, I did," Snape admitted. "The knowledge that he would have imparted to you would have been difficult for you to hear. I cannot deny that anything that made your life harder would have appealed to me back then."

Harry let that go in the interest of completing this portion of his story. "We went to visit Mr. Weasley in hospital the following day. We overheard them talking with Moody. He said that Voldemort was possessing me. I freaked out a little bit, thought I was putting everyone in danger. I was packing up my stuff. I was going to leave Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore sent Phineas Nigellus to tell me to stay – apparently he somehow knew that I'd overheard Moody and figured I'd take off. But he wouldn't say anything but 'stay,' which pissed me off. So then I got all martyry and decided I'd stay in my room to keep the others safe.

"But then Hermione turned up," Harry said, remembering her "intervention" with a smile. "She and Ginny ganged up on me. Hermione told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and Ginny told me that based on her own experiences, I was not being possessed. Christmas got a lot better after that."

"I was there when Dumbledore sent Phineas to you," Snape said. "Phineas came hurrying into his portrait in the headmaster's office, huffing and puffing and bellowing that you were packing your things. Dumbledore did not know that you'd overheard Moody, but he certainly didn't want you going anywhere. He sent Phineas to you with that cryptic message and instructed him not to tell you anything else. He was most anxious while we awaited Phineas' return. Phineas reported that you'd been quite disrespectful, both to him and about the headmaster, but that you were staying put. Did you really think that you'd been possessed?"

"I couldn't explain what happened any other way. It explained why Dumbledore hadn't looked at me all year, and why I witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley the way I had."

"Hmm. I suppose it would, to a fifteen-year old Gryffindor," Snape teased.

"Anyway," Harry said pointedly, ignoring Snape, "we went to visit Mr. Weasley in St. Mungo's the following day, and you'll never guess who we ran into."

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Ha ha. No, Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Ah. Your former esteemed Defense professor."

"Yes. We were looking for the tea room and ended up on the spell damage ward. He saw us – he couldn't remember us – thought we were there for his autograph – but he kind of pulled us in and wouldn't let us go." Harry paused for a moment. "We saw Neville's parents while we were there. You knew about them?"

"Of course," Snape said. "Everyone knew about Frank and Alice."

"How could you do that to Neville, then? You knew about his parents, knew that he'd been raised by his grandmother. You had to know how hard it was for him. And still you treated him like rubbish."

"His parents had nothing to do with the fact that the boy was a walking disaster in the potions classroom," Snape defended himself.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to be so mean about it."

"Mr. Longbottom turned out just fine, did he not?"

"He did," Harry agreed. "He turned out more than fine."

"Then the way I treated him is pointless now, is it not?"

"Not entirely, no," Harry said softly. "Neville's my friend. And we're going to . . . we're going to be involved, right? I'd like it if you got along with my friends."

Snape's eyes softened. "I suppose I should have realized that you're a package deal. What with being a Gryffindor and all."

"Yes, you should have," Harry said firmly. "I don't come with family, but I do come with friends that mean a great deal to me. I would have a difficult time if I had to choose between two things that I . . . care very much about."

Snape stared at the earnest young man before him for a long moment before saying, "I will not force you to make that choice."

"Good," said Harry. "Now where were we? Oh, yes. Christmas. Just before we were due back at Hogwarts, someone paid me a visit."

"Oh?" Snape said with a curious quirk of an eyebrow.

"Yeah. You."

"Yes, I remember," Snape said.

"I'll certainly never forget it. You and Sirius fighting like junkyard dogs."

"With little Harry Potter between us, attempting to keep us from coming to blows," Snape remembered with a smile.

"Hey, I wasn't so little! You two really hated each other, didn't you?"

"I think that went without saying then, and it certainly doesn't bear talking about now."

"I agree," Harry said, knowing that talk of Sirius, still, after all this time, would only bring up bad feelings. Harry had loved him – Snape had hated him. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that. "Should we talk about the occlumency lessons, or are they another thing best left untalked about?"

"There may be some aspects of the lessons that we should discuss," Snape said, and Harry knew he was remembering his precipitate trip into the pensieve. Harry sort of wished they could skip over that, but he supposed there was at least one thing he needed to say.

"I never apologized for that. I'm very sorry to have violated your privacy in that way, sir. If I had known what I was going to see, I certainly never would have done it. And I want you to know that I never told my friends what I'd seen. I was . . . too ashamed of my father to want anyone to know what he was like back then."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Potter. It was a long time ago."

"Yes, it was. The night of that first lesson, when I got back to my dorm, my scar began to hurt, and I felt Voldemort's extreme happiness. I didn't learn until the next day that he was celebrating the mass breakout from Azkaban. I was half convinced that you'd opened my mind to Voldemort during our lesson." Before Snape could respond to that almost-accusation, Harry had moved on. "And it was right after that that I went into Hogsmeade with Cho Chang. One disaster right after the other."

"Your first foray into the wiles of feminine company?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a self-conscious smile. "I liked her. Thought she was very pretty. But talking with her was so awkward. She spent a lot of time crying. And she wanted to talk about Cedric, which was just . . . not on. That Valentine's Day, Hermione had asked me to meet me at lunch, and when I told Cho that, she just . . . exploded."

"You'd made a date with your female best friend in the middle of a date with girl you were romantically interested in?" Snape asked incredulously.

"No! Well, yeah, actually, except that it wasn't a date. Hermione asked me to meet her, said it was important. Cho cried and left me in Madam Puddifoots. I had no idea what was going on. Hermione explained to me in detail later what I'd done wrong. Being with girls just seemed so . . . impossible."

"Yet you kissed her," Snape probed gently. He'd almost seen that memory during Harry's occlumency lessons.

"Yeah, one time. It was nothing like kissing you," Harry confessed shyly.

Snape stared down at the demure young man sitting across from him and was suddenly taken by the strongest desire to just devour that innocence, take it and use it and twist it in his hands until it was writhing and quivering beneath him. He felt himself go almost instantly hard, and he forced himself to take up his tea cup and look away from the temptation before him.

"It is getting late," he said, and he was quite glad that his voice sounded almost normal. Indeed, their meetings seemed to be running longer and longer. "Perhaps you should return to your room?"

"Oh, okay," Harry said, looking taken aback at the abrupt dismissal. He placed his cup on the table and brushed biscuit crumbs from his lap. He stood up and looked questioningly at Snape. The man always saw him to the door, yet he remained seated, saucer and cup in his lap.

It was obvious to Snape that Harry had no idea what effect he had on him, and that surge of want for the boy's total naivete coursed back through him, doing nothing at all for his attempts to get his body under control. As quietly but firmly as he could, he said, "Good night, Mr. Potter. I shall see you on Friday."

"Good night, sir," Harry said, still obviously perplexed. But he gave one last shy smile and turned and left Snape with his growing problem.