O, What a Sympathy of Woe is This

Severus' sleep was fitful. He drifted in and out of it, plagued by a sense of foreboding. When he did sleep, his dreams were strange, though he did not carry the details into waking. There was only a sense of reaching and desperation. Urgency and futility. Severus grasped for something just beyond his reach, something he must but could not have. His last dream was so charged it jolted him awake. But instead of the low, gray stones of his ceiling, Severus' eyes snapped open to see a pale face hovering only inches above his own, and he gasped.

"Hello, my love."

"Loraina!" Severus sputtered, struggling to scramble upright and away from her but too disoriented to manage it at first. "What in the name of Hermes Trismegistus are you doing here?!" he spat angrily. He wondered just how long she'd been there. Walking into his office unannounced was one thing, but this crossed a line Severus could not allow.

She seemed unconcerned beyond her impatience with his groggy but disapproving glare, and she took a seat on his cot in the space recently vacated by his feet, speaking rapidly to him before he was even properly awake. "Well, I just came back from the hunt," she explained, leaning in confidentially despite that they were the only two present. "Didn't even have to leave the grounds, actually. Badger got caught on this side of the wards. But that's neither here nor there," she added, waving a hand as if to shoo off her own irrelevance. "Thing is, I just made it back to the Castle and smelled something intriguing in the corridor I thought you'd like to know about. You're always chastising me for teasing you with information, so I came straight here to fetch you."

Severus was coming around, but sleep still stubbornly clung to him, and what she'd said was penetrating the fog only slowly. "Why? Is it serious? What do you mean you smelled something?" he scowled, scrubbing his hands over his face to rid him of the last of his cobwebs.

"Come with me," she said urgently, rising smoothly from the cot and striding toward the stairwell. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus. You don't need your robes," she tutted when she glanced back to see that he followed. "You aren't naked. Just come on before it dissipates!"

Grumbling, Severus tossed the garment aside and rushed to follow, feeling naked in just his shirtsleeves. When they reached the sitting room, she didn't move toward the floo. Instead, she slipped quickly through his front door and the two of them sprinted through the dungeons at preternatural speed. Severus was more than awake now. He felt his senses sharpen in a way they hadn't in years. It felt like a hunt. No doubt she'd led him this way in order to trigger the sense, but he was so out of practice using his vampiric powers that the flood of sensory information he was receiving served only to muddle him.

"Here. You smell it?" she hissed as soon as they emerged from the dungeons. Severus didn't, though he tried. They stalked the corridor, sniffing, but besides being overwhelming, none of the scents were especially new, and Severus was becoming frustrated.

"Loraina, why don't you just tell me-"

"This way!" she said, setting off like a bloodhound with Severus following behind like an untrained puppy. The scent she followed, however, grew more distinct as they traveled, and he took up the thread himself, soon almost outpacing her. Severus felt his heart sink steadily as they chased it to a wall hanging not far from Lupin's old quarters where they slowed, considering the thing with trepidation. There was no murky funk of wolf-fur hair, though what Severus smelled was just as familiar and stomach churning.

"No," he whispered to himself, reaching almost reluctantly to draw the curtain aside and step into the small space behind it. His senses were still heightened, and woven between layers of lust, old and new, was the distinct scent he'd mused over in his laboratory earlier that evening. "No," he repeated, increasingly horrified.

"Yes," she said, stepping in behind him and examining the alcove with a small, amused smile. "Little Harry is coming out of his shell and cashing in those good looks of his, finally." She seemed almost approving, and Severus wanted to shake her. Did she not understand what a disaster this was?

"I have to speak to the Headmaster," he muttered, staring at the small semi-circular couch and trying very hard not to imagine what had recently happened there. Mostly, he simply needed to leave the place. He was inundated by scents and confused by the emotions they inspired. It had been so long since he'd smelled any of them personally that they seemed almost alien. And beneath a mild and unwelcome arousal was a baffling sense of betrayal.

"Cozy place, this," Loraina commented, much more at ease. "Just dripping with sex. Breathe that in, my love," she purred, doing so herself. Her pupils were so large they pushed the pale blue of her irises to an almost invisible border around them. Severus had no doubt his looked much the same. She turned them to Severus and her every gesture was predatory.

"Loraina," Severus objected, taking a small, unsteady step back from her only to collide with the cushioned sofa.

"It's done, my love. He won't being injuring things further tonight. There's no rush," she said softly, somehow closer without seeming to have moved. "This place is just perfect for a tumble." Severus shook his head, unable to answer, and she pouted. "Why won't you play with me, Severus?" she said almost whingingly. "A bit of a snog doesn't mean we're engaged," she reasoned, running a hand lightly down his shirtsleeve which gleamed an unaccustomed white in the shadowed recess.

Severus took her carefully by the wrist and gently removed her touch from his arm. "Loraina, I can't," he said, but with difficulty. It was not lost on him that the last time he'd known the scents they steeped in was with her. And though he'd succeeded in keeping them at bay all term, he was overwhelmed now with sudden memories of his one-time need for her; and his grief when he'd had to relinquish it.

"Why not?" she argued gently. She didn't reach to touch him again, but she did not surrender any space.

"We aren't…" he began feebly, pulling his gaze reluctantly from the curve of her breast beneath her blouse and banishing the tingle in his palm as it remembered the feel of it. He had to remind himself to breathe.

"I know we aren't, love," she whispered cajolingly. "It's just fun. Casual," she shrugged, slinking closer. But he shook his head at her sadly. He hadn't been a sexual being in a long time, and the prospect seemed more intimidating than exciting. Besides, he could not afford this. She was a tempting poison, like the syrup of hellebore that Harry had looked so longingly at in the lab that first night. He dared not even taste it lest he succumb completely and to his unquestionable ruin. When she realized he would not be swayed, her seduction faltered and she considered him with a mournful fondness. "Of course," she whispered with a sad smile. "You don't go in for casual, do you? You have always been all or nothing. And you want nothing of me." She stopped trying to block his escape and dropped to a seat on the couch with a sigh.

Seeing her slumped dejectedly on the couch, Severus' arousal abruptly died and the scents around him turned suddenly to stink. He'd known, the instant Albus had told him that he was bringing her to Hogwarts, that this moment was inevitable. It seemed cruel, forcing them to grieve once more for what had been and could never be again. For all her flirting, they both knew she didn't go in for casual, either. Especially not when it came to Severus. She simply was hoping to take what she could get, and Severus had nothing to offer her. "I'm sorry" he said softly, taking a tentative step toward the curtain.

"Are you?" It had been spoken softly, but there was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice. She did not expect a response. She looked away from him as if to ask what was taking him so long to leave.

Severus only just resisted the urge to reach for her before he practically stumbled from the alcove. The curtain smothered the intoxicating reek from within and the air of the corridor seemed comparatively crisp and sweet. Severus' head cleared and the import of the situation returned to him. He glanced back at the alcove only briefly before turning toward the Headmaster's office and setting off as quickly as his wounded heart would allow.

He roused Albus more easily and respectfully than Loraina had done to him before. The man admitted the grave Potions Master to his rooms without question, gesturing to a chair which Severus refused, preferring to pace.

"Albus, we have a problem," he advised apologetically. "Taking away his cloak did not stop him from roaming, and his new destination is more dangerous than the last."

The Headmaster sighed and took the seat he'd offered Severus. "What have you seen?" he asked as if dreading the answer.

"Seen? Nothing," Severus said. "Smelled?" he amended with a meaningful lift of his eyebrows.

Albus was clearly less than pleased and beyond weary. "Perhaps we should set a watch on the Tower," he proposed, more to himself than to his guest. Severus stopped pacing and stared at him.

"Perhaps we should simply tell the boy," he said. They'd had this conversation just that Summer before Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place; and at the time, Severus had argued against telling the young man about the chastity spell that had been cast on him, thinking he may rebel in disastrous fashion. Severus had been overruled then, but the events in Surrey had postponed the revelation and forced them to reevaluate.

Albus shook his head immediately at the suggestion. "You told me yourself he's unstable," he pointed out. "Do you imagine this information will steady him? Or rather send him spiraling even further beyond our reach? I fear the incident with Remus has already tipped the balance too far out of our favor."

"I've been working with him," Severus countered. "He's always been unpredictable, but that does not mean we can avoid telling him these things forever. Besides, he's made fine progress in grounding himself. Perhaps if we can monitor him closely enough afterward…" He trailed off as the depth of their difficulty dawned on him. Harry had taken to Severus' exercises with vigor, but that very enthusiasm betrayed the volatility of his emotional state and so his susceptibility to the Dark Lord's intrusion.

"Is he still wearing Remus' sweater?" Albus asked significantly. The two stared at each other in tense silence for a prolonged moment before Severus puffed out a sigh. It would not be pretty, but they would handle the fallout, regardless. They had no choice.

"He's sensitive at the moment, granted," Severus argued, becoming more agitated at the complexity of the situation but also more determined to overcome it, "but I don't see how this information would be that unsettling. So he can't snog his boyfriend behind a curtain in the East corridor anymore! What exactly is there to be upset about?" he grumbled, pacing again.

"The impact of the glamour we cast is far further reaching than that, Severus."

"How much further?" Severus demanded, as if he doubted it was truly relevant.

Albus, however, was suddenly solemn; enough so that Severus' pacing slowed to an apprehensive halt. "We didn't really know until Remus went to Surrey to collect Harry's things," the Headmaster confessed. Severus was confused and took a cautious seat in the chair across from the man. Albus looked guilt-ridden, and it did not bode well. "Harry was not well treated by his relatives, Severus," he began reluctantly. "In fact, he was blatantly mistreated. I'm not sure we'll ever know the extent of it, but it was most likely a result of the strength of the spell we cast before we left him in their care. These are people who had never been exposed to any sort of magical influence," he explained. "We are more sensitive to magical effects in some ways, better able to recognize the presence of it, but in others we are inured. I know we all felt the potency of the chastity spell at the time it was cast, but we did not appreciate its effects on Muggles. The spell made Harry repellant to them, and his family was never able to bond with him; or so I suspect. Harry is free of them now, but I am concerned about the impact the truth will have on him, once he realizes our responsibility in the unpleasantness of his life before Hogwarts. It will hardly foster trust."

Severus remembered hearing that Harry's life with his adoptive family was less than rosy but hadn't given it much thought at the time. He did so now, and his stomach soured. He could not help but recall his own childhood. Though, surely the young man had not faced anything approaching Severus' experience. "Many children are raised by those who do not love them, Albus," he contended. "If he can be made to understand it was for his own safety," he began, but a look from Albus withered the rest of his argument on his tongue. It had been half-hearted, anyway. "If he continues on this path," Severus warned instead, "one of the last remaining safeguards we placed will fail and Harry will be more vulnerable than ever to the Dark Lord."

"Let me consider the matter," Albus hedged. "It isn't as if he's going to lose his virginity tomorrow. This is all new to him," he shrugged. Severus was left at a loss by the man's nonchalance toward the matter. As hawkishly as he'd guarded Harry's purity all this time, he now seemed more concerned with staying in the young man's good graces than with ensuring Harry's armour remained in place.

"It was far more than a kiss, Albus," Severus advised. The Headmaster shifted uncomfortably but did not respond. If telling the boy the truth was not an option, there had to be something else they could do. "I'll just seal up the niche they use," Severus proposed. He looked forward to it, in fact. Forget magic. He may close it with brick and mortar.

"Then they would merely find somewhere else, Severus. You know this," Albus replied wearily. "I learned long ago we will never prevent adolescents from being adolescents. Besides, it's part of growing up. Better they do what they do where we know where they are."

"Well, he still attends detention," Severus pointed out, more perturbed than comforted to realize he now knew where Harry was 'growing up'. "I'll simply keep him occupied for as long as possible tomorrow night," he grumbled. Anything to keep Harry out of that blasted alcove. The thought of him there made Severus angrier each time he thought of it.

"I'm in agreement that we must prevent him from risking the magic in place, but, Severus, we cannot punish him for his impulses."

"I'm not," Severus said as if offended by the insinuation. "I'm punishing him for breaking Draco's nose. He hasn't been made to properly rue it, yet." Though, Severus would see to it he did.

Albus did not fight him further on the matter. "Very well," he acceded. "I know Rainey keeps an eye on him. Have her continue to do so," he said, rising to his feet to indicate their meeting was over.

Severus left the old man to his remaining rest and returned to his quarters. He did not know where Loraina was but thought it best to give her her space. He could always speak with her later. But Severus knew he would sleep no more that night. He paced the lab, instead, replaying his conversation with the Headmaster in his mind and growing increasingly agitated by what he'd learned until he finally stomped back up the stair and snatched up his floo powder.

Lupin was not difficult to rouse at Grimmauld Place. Though he obviously hadn't been sleeping, he seemed less than happy about being dragged out of bed. His eyes were bloodshot and shadowed by dark circles beneath. His sandy waves were disheveled by more than failed slumber. He looked like Hell, frankly. Severus wondered if it was due more to the situation with Harry or with the imminent Full moon. "Severus?" he asked apprehensively. "It's 2 o'clock in the morning," he pointed out, as if to say Harry had better be dying or else he would be severely put out by the summons.

Severus wished the hearth was connected for more than just communication. He didn't like having this conversation this way and would have prefered to step into the sitting room with the werewolf; which had to be a first. "Albus says the Muggles mistreated the boy," he finally began almost accusingly. "Did you know about this?"

Lupin's scowl eased and he looked hangdog and exhausted. "Not at the time, no," he confessed softly. "Well. We rather recently found out they were unpleasant and prejudiced against our kind, and we made it known at the beginning of last Summer, in no uncertain terms, that they were to continue their abuse at their own peril. But we had no idea it was as severe as it was or that it had gone on for so long."

"Well when, exactly, were you made aware?" Severus asked scathingly.

Remus took no affront at Severus' tone, but he did become instantly more morose. "When I went to Surrey on his birthday. Harry's uncle was burning his trunk when we arrived, ranting about how he should never have let the boy out of the cupboard." Lupin sighed and took a seat on the couch before the hearth. "Apparently, they'd had him living in a cupboard under the stairs," he said as if the memory of the discovery made him ache. "For years, Severus. There was a lock on the outside. I saw it with my own eyes," he said, looking close to tears. "And it wasn't that they didn't have the room. Until Harry was twelve, the extra bedroom upstairs was used to store his cousin's additional belongings, as he had so many they would not all fit in his own bedroom," he sneered, disgusted. "And Harry had nothing. They didn't even buy him clothes," he told Severus, his expression seeming to ask how such monsters could even exist. "They forced him to wear the hand-me-downs of a boy almost twice his size and much better fed. He was treated no better than a house elf at Malfoy Manor," he finished, laying his head in his hands.

Severus found he could not respond for quite some time while he attempted to process this. He'd never suspected. Harry had given them no reason to. They both seemed to take a moment to reflect on the fact that their shining young hero of the Quidditch pitch, who was so often spied joking with his classmates at the Gryffindor table during meals or happily gallivanting through Hogsmeade, had spent most of his life in baggy rags, locked in a cupboard, and treated as an abomination.

"And then he was later blithely informed that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders," Severus muttered ruefully. Albus was right. Telling the boy of the circumstances surrounding his upbringing could prove disastrous. "If I were him, I might have been inclined to let the world burn."

"Me, as well," Lupin agreed. "That's why he's better than we are," he added quietly. Severus met the man's sad stare and felt he really must concede the fact. His own childhood had ruined him, made him too distrustful of others to form any significant friendships at school; had inspired a deep bitterness that showed in his every interaction and fueled the taunting he'd experienced from others. Even when the occasional classmate had reached out or tried to befriend him, Severus had rejected them, questioning their motives. Loraina had been the sole exception, and that was simply because she had refused to be denied. It seemed a miracle Harry's spirit had survived well enough to allow for the openness he exhibited. The most cynical parts of Severus muttered that this made the boy a fool, given his prior experience of the world; as if Harry never learned from the past. But no one could deny he was better for it, seemingly unwise or not. Otherwise, Severus would never have bridged their divide as well as he'd been able thus far. By all accounts, the young man had very little reason to trust him, and the fact that he now appeared to was almost disquieting. Severus could only hope Harry's forgiving nature would not extend to those who truly wished him harm.

Severus couldn't stop contemplating the Dursleys' actions, comparing and contrasting the young man's experiences at home with the ever unfolding events at school, and thinking of how the burden of one must have chased Harry into the other. His relatives' household had been meant to be a sanctuary for Harry against the pressures of being the chosen one, but it had been anything but.

"Tell me where the bastards live," Severus growled, suddenly angry. "I'm going to go murder them."

"Severus," Lupin sighed, "they've just lost their son."

"Serves them bloody right!" Severus spat.

"Severus," Lupin admonished with a disapproving scowl.

"They've no business with children, theirs or otherwise," Severus insisted.

"The glamour-"

"Is no excuse!"

"You've never treated him much better," Lupin pointed out quietly. Severus' temper was instantaneously doused by guilt. He was sharply reminded of his own harsh treatment of the young man in the past and felt mildly ill to think he could be lumped in with such arseholes in Harry's understanding. Of course, it was this, as much as what Harry's relatives had done, that fueled Severus' ire for them, he realized. He didn't like the recognition. His new obsession with Harry's well-being made his own culpability unbearable. His anger flared back to life with a vengeance and Severus glared at Lupin. The man simply returned it with mild but unyielding accusation. But Severus had nothing to say in his own defense and so he abruptly withdrew from the hearth and stormed back to his lab.

He was too heartsore to pace, though, and he threw himself back down on his cot where he brooded. For the first time in his life, Severus carefully considered Harry as the Chosen One. Not as the spoiled, celebrity spawn of his arch-nemesis who made Severus' life as a double agent perpetually difficult, but as the boy who had been labeled, without his knowledge or consent, as the saviour of the world and then smothered in magics to preserve him for the moment he would risk his life for all of them. Severus considered the sacrifices Harry had made already and those he would be asked to make in future. And for what? The young man owed them nothing. Because of them he grew up unloved and tormented. Even in the interminable hell of the threat his father's frequent wrath, Severus had had his mother. Their moments had been stolen and rushed, too short and too uneasy, but Severus had at least known love. He had been shown kindness, however seldom. Had Harry? Or had he languished in his cupboard as a child, truly believing he was the affront to nature his family considered him to be?

Severus knew what it was to be hated for having magical blood. The elder Snape had attempted to beat it out of him for years; and when he found he couldn't, he'd beaten Severus' mother for burdening him with a freak of a son. And Severus had been powerless to protect either of them, though it had never stopped him trying. Severus was well acquainted with locked doors, as well. He had spent many hours behind his own as a boy. His locks, however, had always been thrown to keep his father out, not to keep Severus in. Not that it did much good. His father had simply broken the frame. It never even closed properly after that, but still, Severus had continued to lock it anyway. Had Harry felt the same sense of sanctuary behind his door? Or had it simply been a prison?

Harry's constant defiance was cast in clearer perspective then. Severus recognized it now, not as the pouting objections of a pampered boy, but as the ingrained, reflexive defence of one accustomed to chronic battle with authority and his surroundings. Loraina had been right, yet again. The young man was a warrior. Just not of his own choosing.

Severus had never before considered the two of them kindred spirits in any way. The young man was handsome and relatively popular. He had means and friends, was athletic rather than cerebral. He was actively social. But there was a reason the others misunderstood his needs. There was a reason Severus alone was so adept at intuiting them. No one else they knew had come from what they two had come from. And Severus almost could not bear this sudden sympathy.

Of course Harry had become attached to Lupin. Of course he even grasped at the paltry comfort Severus himself offered. He had to be absolutely starved for it, especially after Granger's estrangement. It was simply a shame that the addition of pubescent hormones had ruined his relationship with the werewolf. Severus wasn't sure he could show Harry anything approaching the same level of affection. Neither did he feel inclined to try.

And so Harry was seeking it elsewhere, Severus thought darkly. In shadowed cubbies with random boys.

Gods. Why did he have to be gay? The rules were all different. Severus knew only too well the kind of ridicule such a thing would open him to, founded or not. It would only result in more stress, more secrets...more abuse, all for a moment of intimacy. Which Harry deserved.

And which they would eventually have to tell him was not allowed.

Still, though it was deserved, the thought of Harry in the alcove made Severus' blood boil. He was inordinately bothered by it. Despite himself, he could not stop picturing Harry there, wrapped in some other boy's arms; and Severus felt his fangs extend, he was so murderous at the idea. There was too much at stake! Severus had spent miserable decades actively working against the monster they were told only Harry could defeat.

His situation was heartbreaking, and the injustice was maddening, but Harry could not be allowed to visit the alcove again. Even if Severus had to see to it personally.