Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world. No, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, surprising though that may be. JK Rowling owns the characters – I'm simply expanding on what she provides.
Summary: Harry is given a diary by Dumbledore and, when he writes in it, he receives an unexpected response. His correspondent learns of Harry's less-than-suitable living conditions and an unlikely bond is formed. Abused!Harry, DrugAddict!Harry.
Warnings: Swearing, drug abuse, reference to child abuse, reference to sexual abuse/rape in later chapters.
October 31st – 4:55pm
I'm not going, sir.
Yes, you are.
No.
This is not negotiable.
Why?
Why ever not?
Because it's stupid.
Why, Mr. Potter, I thought it would be entirely your scene, then.
Ha. Ha. I'm not amused. And I'm not going.
We are not discussing this any further, Potter. You will attend the ball and that is final.
Why are you doing this?
Schadenfreude.
I don't know whether you're serious or not.
The Halloween Ball turned out to be an uneventful affair. In fact, it was considerably boring. After an hour or two of standing around avoiding the dance floor and some surprising unwanted attention from a clingy Gryffindor fourth year girl, Harry convinced his friends to return to the common room for an after party.
The seventh years had smuggled in some fire whiskey and butterbeer and were already getting rowdy when the sixth years slipped through the portrait. This was destined to be more interesting than any more formal affair.
After changing out of their formal robes, and the girls changing out of their ball gowns, the students partied like only cooped up teenagers could. As the younger year levels returned, they were encouraged by the prefects and older students to retire to their dorms – it was one thing to get drunk on school grounds at 16 or 17 years of age. It was another thing entirely to be responsible for getting 12 and 13 year olds drunk on school grounds. Nobody wanted that.
The students lounged in small groups around the common room in various states of inebriation. Music was playing from somewhere in the background, just loudly enough to be distracting. Hermione and Ron appeared to be getting cosy in a half-drunk stupor on the sofa in front of the fire gently flickering in the hearth. They'd barely noticed Harry at all after three or four drinks, which suited him just fine. He absently noted how much drunker they seemed compared to him – many nights spent getting drunk and high would do that to you, I guess.
He was about four drinks in when he decided to grab his cloak, as well as a half-empty bottle of fire whiskey, and disappear out the door as a few fifth years returned from the Great Hall. He was able to slip out unnoticed and disappear into the cool night. Fifteen minutes of wandering the cold corridors found him at the top of the astronomy tower.
He settled into a seat in a window enclave looking out over the starry night. It was too cold to be comfortable, so he cast a strong warming charm on his robes and downed a few mouthfuls of whiskey, enjoying the rough burn down his throat. He tilted his head back to rest against the cold, rough stones and let out a breath he didn't know he'd be holding. Some weed or smack would be ideal right now.
He was watching the giant squid play in the black lake when he felt another's presence enter the room. He flicked the invisibility cloak over himself again and held his breath, waiting. The silver moonlight cast a surreal glint on the shining white hair of the Malfoy heir as he stepped into view. Harry sighed in relief, glad it was neither a non-Gryffindor prefect, nor a professor, doing rounds. He wasn't drunk, yet, but he was certainly feeling the thrum of alcohol through his blood. And it probably wouldn't go unnoticed by prefects or professors. He dropped his cloak again to rest on the ledge at his right hip and relaxed against the cold stones, smiling half-drunkenly at Draco across the tower room.
If the Slytherin was surprised by his presence, he hid it well. He smirked at Harry and stepped to the window to share the view, reaching out for the bottle as he did so. He tilted it back for a swig, his lips glinting with moisture when he drew the bottle away. He shivered involuntarily at the rough burn of the alcohol, but took another swig before passing it back. Harry's green eyes watched him lazily, wondering how often the Malfoy boy had had alcohol in his short life.
They were silent for some time, consuming the warm liquid quickly. Finally, Harry was drunk enough to start a conversation. He glanced at his blonde friend and suddenly noticed that the other boy was far worse off. He had shifted to sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, one hand loosely holding the neck of the bottle that was now nearly empty. Evidently Harry's ability to hold his liquor was better than Draco's. Only natural, considering Harry's experience in the matter.
"You should probably stop drinking, mate."
Silver eyes gazed up at him hazily, and the Slytherin offered him a lazy smirk before fumbling to pass him the bottle.
"It feels good, though. Nice to relax."
Harry smiled down at his blonde friend and nodded knowingly before casting his gaze out across the grounds again. Somewhat mesmerised by the enchanting night.
"Wonder what Voldie would be like after a few drinks."
"Well I don't feel like killing anyone right now, so maybe he'd be less of a raging psychopath."
"He couldn't be any more of one."
The boys chuckled and their banter continued for a few more minutes before they lapsed into silence one again. Just in time to hear the approach of someone else.
Harry grabbed his cloak and the bottle and disappeared to invisibility as he heard slow, purposeful steps echoing up the tower. He spared a quick glance for his Slytherin friend, but knew he couldn't hide them both right now. Malfoy, too drunk to react, simply closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall and waited for his certain detention. Billowing black robes swam into view and both boys released a breath they had been unconsciously holding.
Black eyes swept across the room, barely pausing on Draco's inebriated form. A low, sarcastic drawl broke the silence.
"Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter, good evening."
Harry lowered the hood of his cloak and looked at the potions master in surprise. His voice was barely tainted by the whiskey, despite the volume of alcohol he'd consumed. "Professor Snape. How did you know I was here?"
"Let's call it intuition."
He watched as the dark haired boy tilted the bottle to his lips and swallowed down some amber whiskey, finishing off the dregs in the bottle. He looked back to Draco, who was smiling at him benignly from his position on the floor, and raised one dark brow elegantly in question.
"Oh, he'll be fine, Professor. Just not so good at holding his liquor, I guess."
The tall, serious looking wizard waved his hand gently and, within a few moments, a vial of liquid that Harry didn't recognise flew into his outstretched hand. The man then knelt on one knee in front of his blonde godson and spoke in a low, soothing voice. Harry didn't catch the words, but he watched as the drunk teenager obediently swallowed the potion and the glassiness in his pale eyes cleared away. Sobriety potion, then.
Snape stood, now, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the Slytherin sternly.
"Draco, you need to return to the dungeons. Go straight there, please."
The boy nodded up at him and rose, flashing a smile at Harry and a murmured good night to both of them, before slipping silently down the stairs.
Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth thrumming through his veins. Snape turned his icy glare to Harry, then, though the Gryffindor' eyes were closed and so it held no effect. His voice was low and smooth.
"My godson has barely had more than a few butterbeers before, Potter. You should be more careful – he's not as experienced with substances as you are."
"Obviously."
"Did you enjoy the ball?"
"I enjoyed the after party."
"Gryffindors."
"Draco is a snake."
"Indeed, though he was influenced by a lion, in this case."
"He should–"
Harry abruptly stopped speaking mid-sentence and threw his cloak over his head again, disappearing into the enclave in which he sat. Severus had heard it, too, loud footsteps ascending the staircase. He took a few steps back from where he stood and plastered a sneer on his face.
Minerva McGonagall rounded the corner and met his black stare. She smiled warmly at the cold Slytherin and did not cower or look away from his intense glare. He nodded to her and softened his glower, if only slightly.
"Minerva, good evening."
"And to you, Severus. What brings you so far from your dungeons?"
Her voice was friendly and warm, though the curiosity in her question could not be masked.
The potions master sneered her response, "I thought I may find errant Gryffindors to take house points and assign detention to."
Minerva chuckled lightly in response, "And how did that go?"
Snape cast his gaze slowly and pointedly around the apparently empty room, not hesitating for even a moment on the spot where the invisible young wizard sat. He turned to the Gryffindor Head of House once again and raised one brow, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm.
"If there were any here, Minerva, they appear to have thrown themselves off the tower. Pity."
His low drawl was full of dark, dry amusement.
The stern witch chuckled once more at the antics of her younger colleague.
"Escort me back downstairs, Severus?"
"Of course, Minerva."
It was not a good day. The tall, slender potions master was fast running out of patience, which he had only in short supply to begin with. Three cauldrons had already exploded. You'd think, after six years of brewing, that the miscreant students would be able to get through a basic Draught of Peace without causing quite so much trouble.
He stalked down the aisle towards Potter's workstation, watching intently as the young wizard stirred his deep blue potion briskly. Perhaps a little too briskly for a potion designed with peace in mind. He then saw the boy frown and look back at his notes, the worry clear in his actions, if not plastered on his face. The tall professor stepped forward just in time to see the viscous liquid begin to boil and change colour from blue to charcoal from the centre of the potion outwards. He knew well before Harry did that it was about to explode.
"GET BACK!" he bellowed. He reached out urgently and, with his left hand on the slim chest, pushed Harry back, away from the potion. His right hand twirled to throw up a protective barrier and to kill the flame beneath the cauldron at the same time. Not a moment too soon – the liquid began to billow smoke and spit angrily from the deep copper bowl, contained only by Severus' magical barrier.
Harry stumbled backwards from the forceful push and brought his hands up immediately to protect his face. If he weren't so jumpy, he would have been fine. But, as it was, the boy was terrified and nearly fell over himself as he leapt back away from the perceived threat of the Slytherin Head of House. It wasn't like he was never pushed or attacked by other student in Hogwart's walls. It wasn't as if he'd never been hurt at the school before. However, it was usually a fellow student involved, not a grown man in such a position of power. And, often, it was provoked. This time was different.
Harry's head hit the stone wall behind him with a sickening crack and the young wizard slowly slid down the wall to a crumpled heap on the cold floor.
Snape turned, then, the horror of the situation dawning on him. He'd physically shoved a student into the wall. And not just any student. Harry fucking Potter. Shit. Time seemed to stand still and the rest of the class melted away from all focus as the Slytherin potions master fixed his eyes on the trembling boy curled up on the floor.
The boy appeared to be somewhere between consciousness. His green eyes kept trying to roll back into his head and he was moaning softly. Severus reached down to touch the child, but, before he made contact, Harry flinched hard and covered his face again with his forearms. Snape was close enough to hear him urgently muttering apologies under his breath as he tried to push himself further back into the wall.
He absently noticed the torches along the walls flicker slightly and felt the air tremble a little. Great, the boy was having a panic attack and his accidental magic was trying to defend him. At least some subconscious defence was better than nothing. He usually curled into a cocoon when scared, his magic restrained by the fear of repercussions. The boy was gaining some confidence and sense of self-preservation, perhaps. Though this was not a great time for that to happen.
Without turning to face the class, he hissed loudly in his most dangerous voice.
"Everybody out. Class dismissed."
Nobody moved.
"NOW" he bit out, more loudly this time.
The students immediately began to grab their things and rushed out the door as one, falling over one another to escape the dark man's ire.
He felt another wave of defensive magic lash out and a vial on the high shelf above them smashed at the raw power surging through the room. The torches nearest extinguished themselves. If he didn't get the volatile teen under control, he could unconsciously destroy the entire lab with a single, panicked thought.
Severus crouched down on one knee in front of the boy who lived. His voice was soft and gentle when he spoke, a surprisingly soothing sound from the former death eater.
"Hush now, Harry, it's okay. You are at Hogwarts, now. You are quite safe, child."
Those haunted green eyes blinked at him in confusion, trying to reconcile the honesty in the man's words with the demons plaguing his conscious mind.
"That's it. Look at me. Focus on me. Nobody is going to hurt you, anymore."
Severus continued to speak in a low, soothing tone. Not saying anything in particular, simply speaking of safety and Snape Manor and Hogwarts, anything to bring the child back to the present and back in control of his defensive magic. He gripped his wand tightly, ready to throw a shield up immediately if the boy lashed out with his magic. Harry began to take deep, shuddering breaths, actively trying to rein in his panic and his magic.
Eventually, the bright emerald eyes began to look around the room in recognition. He focused, again, on the black eyes of his tall potions professor, and pulled himself into a sitting position rather than the crumpled heap he had fallen in. His back was still to the cold stones. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head into his hands in shame and frustration as he began to realise what had happened. He was such a fucking freak.