Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and I make no money off of this
Warnings: minor swearing
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Potter,
I expect to see you in my office tomorrow morning at precisely 5:00 am. If you do not comply, you should fully expect that your tenuously peaceful existence at Hogwarts will be thoroughly disrupted.
I will not hesitate to drag you from your dorm room if I have to, or where ever you decide to hide.
Prof. Snape
Harry held the parchment inbetween his clammy fingers, trying to smooth out the creases it had from being shoved in his robe pockets, and proffered it to the air before timidly glancing back towards the heavy wooden door. It looked exactly the same, nothing had changed, and yet, it was so different from what he'd remembered it to be.
It had been a while since he'd been here, in the dungeons, waiting before that formidable black knob and wondering if he should turn it. The last time he had been here feeling this nervous was over the Summer, back then he had worried about his relatives and now...
No time to think about that. He sucked in a breath of humid dungeon air, remembering vaguely that it had always reminded him of the salt of the lake. There had always been a sort of heaviness to it, even now in the winter, as if all the oxygen was condensed into a thick, wet soup, but at the moment it felt so much heavier in his lungs. Felt heavier on his limbs. His heart. Like it was seeping into his brain. Like he was sinking.
Maybe he should turn back. If this went on too long, he might not have enough time to prepare. Sure, it was only 5:00 am but...
No, that wouldn't work. Snape would find him anyways and maybe it was a good thing to see the man that had helped him so much one last time.
One last time.
Harry choked, sputtering on his own saliva.
That sounded way too final. What was he thinking? It was like he was expecting to, to, die or something.
He hoped dearly that it was 'or something'.
Raising his arm, his clenched hand wavered before the mahogany surface, hesitating, before knocking quietly once.
"Enter," A low voice said immediately, lingering in his ears much like how the wet air lingered in his lungs.
The boy stepped in, rubbing away the last remnants of fitful sleep from his eyes, and drifted just barely in and out of the open doorway like water trying to swell over the meniscus line. "Sir?"
"Sit," Snape said, leaning back into his own seat and gesturing vaguely towards the hard, straight-backed chair that was on the direct opposite side of his desk.
Harry fidgeted with his robes, stifling a yawn, and curtly sat down, "Okay," he said, expecting some sort of prompt before adding, "What am I doing here?"
The professor flicked his wand towards the open door, slamming it shut, "You are not to go to Hogsmeade today."
His heart felt like it was tiptoeing on the edge of a steep precipice, ready to drop at any second, "What are you talking about?"
"I know what the Dark Lord is planning and, furthermore, I know what you are planning; I will not allow you to get yourself hurt," the man said, grimacing.
Harry mulled on this for a second, heaving his shoulders in exhaustion, "I have to go, sir. I have to."
"No."
"Yes!"
Snape stood, making his seat screech against the cold tile as it propelled itself backward, and his teeth gritted with much the same sound, "Potter, you will be killed if you go out there, do you understand? Can you comprehend this novel idea in your exceedingly small brain?"
Harry took a step backward, putting himself behind his chair and grasping the bars of its back with his hands, "You think I don't know that?"
"It appears that you don't understand, then. This is not a child's game- this is the Dark Lord," the professor started, "This is not something for a kid..."
"I'm not a kid! I wasn't a kid the day I saw Cedric die," His hands clenched the wooden bars more tightly, "And you aren't my dad."
The professor huffed, shoulders tensing and lip curling, "I may not have any blood relation to you, Potter, but you are my student. For all intents and purposes, your well-being falls under my jurisdiction. My duty is to watch all of my students which, may I remind you, is not your duty- it is not your responsibility to save anyone, foolish child!"
Harry turned his head towards the rusticated stone walls.
"Are you even aware why it is that no one believes you about the Dark Lord's attack?"
The boy didn't say anything, choosing to shift his eyes towards the seat he was grasping.
"Dumbledore. It is Dumbledore."
Harry's heart jumped off of the precipice.
"That man is sending you to your death, Potter, knowing full well of your truthfulness."
"Why would he do that; what would he gain out of trying to kill me? If he knew I was telling the truth then..." The boy tried to quell his increasing trembles, breathing in the salty lake air.
"He is trying to lead you into a trap-"
"Stop it."
"...You are only a weapon to him!"
"Oh, so Dumbledore's the bad guy?" Harry tugged at his hair, seeming to curl into himself, "Where were you, then? Where were you all this that I needed you? How am I supposed to know that I'm not just an interference to you, that you're not lying to me?"
Snape didn't respond, nostrils flaring.
"Yeah, that's right!" The boy pointed an accusing finger, "You could just be a lousy death eater that doesn't want me to interfere with Voldemort's plans! That's why you're keeping me here!"
"I could punish you for that, brat," the man said coolly, stepping back in an attempt to distance himself from the comments, "But seeing as how you'll feel appropriately guilty for that later when I end up saving your worthless hide, I won't."
Harry's chest heaved, arms folded.
"You and I are going to stay in this room until I can say that you are free to go."
The boy sputtered, "You...!"
Suddenly the fireplace turned a brilliant, roaring green, sending neon light cascading throughout the room and shooting onto the walls. A floating head peeked out the flames, white beard and calm smile lightly caked with dust particles.
"Oh, Severus, is this a bad time?"
"Yes," the man gritted his teeth, "Headmaster."
"Now, now, no need to be..." the elder man stopped abruptly, blinking as the head swiveled towards the other boy, "Young Harry! What is it that you are doing here?"
The boy didn't say anything, eyes narrowing.
The head was joined with a neck, and later an arm, two arms, a leg, before the whole man popped out of the fire. He brushed at his colorful robes with a grin, "Never been much of a fan of floo-traveling, myself."
Harry looked down.
"Oh, yes!" Dumbledore said, grin broadening as he tapped at his lip, "Now that I remember it, when I was perusing through the list of scheduled detentions this early morning, I realized that young Harry's doesn't have a cause written next to it..."
Snape coughed into his arm, "Excuse me, Headmaster, I can't believe I had forgotten- the truth is, he was fooling around in Potions class with highly volatile substances which he had the gal to throw into Malfoy's cauldron."
"Now, now, Severus, I know you may dislike the boy because of his parentage, but this unfair punishment is against school policy unless, of course, young Harry is here of his own free will," he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Are you, my boy?"
"Think about what you are doing," the professor mouthed.
Harry looked up, gaze sliding from Dumbledore to his professor and back.
The green light from the fire gradually dimmed, letting the grayness of the stones seep back into his vision.
Yet the light did not disappear fully and sent sparks and green ashes floating through the air. Perhaps just maybe, if the light had been brighter, and Dumbledore had been inched a little to the left of the fireplace, he would've seen the concern lining Snape's irises and the calculating look that abounded in the Headmaster's own.
And just maybe, just possibly, things would've been different.
But this was not so.
"No, I'm not, sir. Can I leave?"
Albus' smile grew just a fraction wider, "Yes, you may."
The boy let his shoulders drop and, giving a minute wave of the hand towards the professor, he left the room and padded out of the dungeons.
Snape threw a deeply unsettled glare at Dumbledore, "I know what you are doing."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, my boy." The elder man chirped affably, examining his hands.
"Look at me when I speak to you!" The professor tilted the edge of his desk upward, letting ink and parchment crash to the floor, before planting the desk back down to the tiled floor, "Don't play dumb with me, Albus, I am much too acquainted with your games! Think about what it is you are doing, what you are risking!"
"There are some things that must be done."
"You are a fool and, most of all, I am a fool, for allowing myself to think for even a second that you could ever change," Severus' voice dropped, "You are still Grindelwald's pet, aren't you?"
The headmaster cringed, smile faltering for only a second.
"Hit a sore spot, haven't I? Funny how the mere mention of a name can make you flinch while the sacrifice of an innocent boy doesn't," he spat, folding his arms into his sleeves, "You really are his pet."
Dumbledore frowned, "I told you that in confidence, it is not in good conscience to speak of it."
"If you think that I'm going to..."
"The boy has already made his choice, Severus," the elder man stressed, tenderly poking at the blisters that marred his fingers. "You are this close to being freed from Voldemort's clutches- this close; don't you desire that?"
The fire smoldered, sending loud crackles into the air.
"Not if it means Lily's son has to die!"
The headmaster remained quiet.
Snape breathed, lungs scorched with the intensity of his furor, "I told you; I told you, I wouldn't ever let you hurt him, and I damn well mean it."
"It has to be done," the elder man said, stepping into the doorway, "I hope that you understand this one day."
