Dolohov was dead.
Thank fuck!
Daryl couldn't believe it! After all that fear, pain, rage and panic was Dolohov finally dead and they were still alive!
Daryl knew that he should have felt relived but somehow, he didn't… The hunter was still as tense as before. He watched Dolohov's killer, that creepy and greasy-haired man, with hawk eyes.
"Hermione?" Harry rasped weakly. The pained gasp from Harry had the hunter looking at the two women.
"Harry!" The young bushy-haired witch hiccupped, already on the way to throw herself at her childhood friend.
"Stop!" The green-eyed wizard wheezed threateningly, crawling protectively in front of Daryl's and Paul's still bound forms, causing Hermione to come to a sudden halt. The girl stared at her friend, brown eyes wide with fear and shock.
Next to him Daryl heard, how Paul curse under his breath at Harry's selfless action.
Hadn't their little wizard shielded them enough already?
Damn it!
Bright green eyes glowered dangerously at the young woman from behind beaten-up, flower-patterned glasses.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He rasped roughly between laboured breaths. And for a moment Daryl thought that his youngest lover had lost his mind until a choked and teary, but fond laugh from the British witch answered the strange phase.
"Moody would be proud of you, you know?" Hermione smiled at her injured friend. "Constant vigilance!" She barked out, before offering: "Mischief managed." with a barely-there smirk.
Only when she had said those words, that seemed to be part of an old catchphrase between them, all tension had bled out of Harry... and with it apparently the last of his strength. Like a puppet cut lose from its strings, Daryl and Paul had to watch helplessly how their lover crumbled to the floor. Dark bruises and still growing blood stains riddled Harry's slender body, in a worrying amount. The hunter didn't know if his heart could take any more of this, because it felt like it was about to shatter.
Immediately both, Hermione and the old woman, whom Harry had called Professor McGonagall, jumped forward to assist the raven-haired youth on the ground. When a loud shout of pain ripped from Harry's mouth, caused Daryl to glower at the old witch who was now probing and prodding at his boyfriend's wound.
Meeting his glare heads on, the British lady levelled Daryl with an unimpressed look. She reminded him a little of Natania, with her overly straight posture and air of authority she carried like a second skin. There was not even a hint of a doubt that this was a woman you did not mess with, old or not!
"I was Mr. Potter's former head of house at Hogwarts and his Professor for Transfiguration, Minerva McGonagall." She introduced herself very formally.
When Daryl failed to react immediately, she raised an imperious eyebrow at him. The message was clear: she demanded at least a name in return.
"Dixon. Daryl Dixon." The hunter grumbled back lowly, avoiding her disapproving stare in favour of looking anxiously at Harry's painfilled expression. He had never felt more like a dirty, uneducated white-trash than under strict eyes of this prim British Professor.
"Paul Rovia. But my friends used to call me Jesus." Paul quipped without being prompted. There was something strange in his lover's tone that had Daryl looking at him. The hunter was grinding his teeth at the sight of that fucking polite and closed-off smile on Paul's face. It reminded him about the day he and Rick had first met the hippie ninja. Daryl hated it when their hippie ninja barricaded himself behind that stupid Jesus bullshit. It was something that had not happened since they started dating.
That Paul felt the need to do this now spoke volumes about his unease… not that Daryl could fault him for that this woman had a way of making him feel he must have done something wrong.
The elderly Professor gave Paul a piercing look, when Paul offered her that stupid nickname and the long hair man twitched nervously under her scrutiny.
"Well, I can see the resemblance." She remarked drily, but Daryl thought that she had almost smiled. Her mouth looked less thin, anyway.
With a huff McGonagall waved her wand and the bonds, that had held him and Paul down, disappeared at last.
Their regained freedom finally allowed them to hurry over to Harry's side. Nervously Paul's shaking hands hovered over the slender youth's broken body. The long-haired man was obviously unsure where to touch their small wizard without inflicting even more pain on him.
The hurt and worry on Paul's face resonated deeply in Daryl, who wished that he could just simply bundle his two loves up and hide them away from the world. After everything that had happened today, living in the woods, far away from crazy wizards and mad assholes, who thought they could rule the world. A little camp just for the three of them. It wouldn't be hard to find a good place with a stable water resource. They could hunt. Maybe they could take on a dog… – yeah, that sounded like damn dream!
Instead Daryl watched with a queasy feeling as Paul settled for carefully plugging Harry's glasses off his nose, caressing very carefully a bruised and bloodied cheek. A part of the hunter sized up, when he took in the state of those hideous specs. They looked just as beaten-up as the British youth himself. Crooked and smeared and one glass had cracked in the fight.
Swallowing with difficulty Daryl gently tugged a stray raven lock behind a pale ear, earning him a small smile and a tiny exhausted sigh from Harry.
"Don't worry. It's alright." The teen mumbled in an obvious attempt to reassure his lovers, but the way heavy eyelids started to drop over tired green eyes, did nothing to ease the tightness in Daryl's chest. And in considering the way Paul sucked in a breath and the strained smile he offered Harry in return, he felt the same worry. The long-haired man looked to be close to tears.
"Here, give me the glasses. I'll repair them." Hermione offered softly, laying a comforting hand on Paul's badly shaking ones. All it took was a whispered 'Reparo' and the specs looked as good as new.
In the light of the destruction and pain, it had created for them it felt almost strange to witness such light and repairing magic again. Feeling still uneasy Daryl threw another suspicious glance at the strange wizard that had come with Hermione and the elderly witch.
"Hermione!?"
Carl's shout rang through the streets, causing Daryl to tear his eyes away from Dolohov's cooling corpse and the man who had killed him. The young woman kneeling by Harry's side waved at the blue-eyed teen with a soft smile stretching over her lips.
"Hey, Carl."
"Oh my god! What…? How…? What are you doing here?" Carl babbled as he ran over to them, stumbling through the rumble on the street.
"I would like to know the same…" Harry mumbled and despite his exhaustion, green eyes regarded his old friend and Professor with unveiled curiosity. The older woman seemed very busy scanning the young wizard's injuries and applying some kind of healing spells on him very once in a while with a serious look on her face that did nothing to ease Daryl's worries.
"Well. Thank Merlin, Miss Granger was sensible enough to inform us about your call and your warnings about Antonin Dolohov. She also confirmed our speculations that you would courageously try to confront him. Courageous but foolish as well, Mr. Potter! I thought the days when you charged forward to confront Mountain Trolls in the girl's lavatories were over." Here McGonagall threw a sharp and clearly disapproving look at Harry that had their green-eyed, brave lion cringing bashfully.
Daryl looked a little startled at Paul mouthing 'Mountain Troll' while Paul replied with a silent but wide eyed 'girl's lavatories'.
"Uhmm… I…" Harry stuttered.
"Spare me the excuses, Mr. Potter." The elderly witch deadpanned in a very dry tone and with raised eyebrows. "In the light of the magnitude of the danger we all agreed that it was necessary to be of assistance here."
"I appreciate it. But… but how…?! I mean… You can't just apparate between continents. None of you knew the exact destination. And portkeys aren't just lying around anymore, especially not international ones... And the goblins…" Harry was obviously struggling to make sense of the situation, as he leaned heavily against Paul's side.
"The goblins were indeed not very forth coming." McGonagall agreed, her already stern mouth thinning even more in displeasure. "It took Filius negotiating with them for hours and even then, they demanded a vast fee to bring us here… Mr. Longbottom has paid for most of it, out of his inheritance…"
"But the exact destination…?"
"The mirrors." Hermione smiled tearfully at Harry. "The Professors were able to locate the position of your mirror through my own." She chuckled wetly.
In response Harry was laughing too…
…or better he tried and flinched badly at the vibrations this caused to his chest.
Instead the green-eyed teen was now doubling over with hacking coughs. Daryl and Paul both hissed in horrified shock when blood stared to spill freely over Harry's lips. Helplessly they watched as their little wizard's body was wacked with tremors and nervous twitching. The hunter was sure that Harry was fighting hard to keep himself from screaming out loud…
And while Daryl and Paul were frozen with helplessness, not knowing what to do, Hermione and McGonagall reacted swiftly, casting spell after spell at the green-eyed wizard.
"Severus, hurry! We need you here!" The old woman called out, her voice firm but urgent.
Daryl didn't even hear him moving and neither did Paul, both too caught up in the implications that name brought with it.
Severus?! As in Severus Snape…?!
Yes, looking at the hooked nose and the greasy hair again, Daryl knew now without a doubt that the man with the sour expression and cold eyes that had come with the British witches was indeed Severus Snape.
The man that had spied for Harry's old Headmaster and had raped the teen on the orders of the Dark Lord to keep up pretences and so he could safe Harry later…
Automatically Daryl had started to grind his teeth and his fists were tightly clenched as he stared unseeingly at the ground. Paul beside him startled badly when the Potions Professor's tall, dark presence loomed behind them, long black robes giving him the aura of an overgrown bat.
"Move a side then." He spoke in a soft, contained voice and apparently the only one completely unaffected by Harry's pain. A pale, long fingered hand held a vial with a light green potion in it, as the stranger crouched down next to Harry.
As if in slow motion Daryl watch how Snape was about to touch the green-eyed teen.
The hunter felt his body move without making the conscious decision.
BAM!
Lighting fast he had struck the bastard square in the face. And damn, but the long, hooked nose of Severus Snape broke under his fist with the most satisfying, crunching sound. Although Daryl wasn't someone who enjoyed violence for the sake of it, but he couldn't deny that he relished in the pained groaning and the sight of blood flowing over that fucker's face.
"Oh, my goodness, Daryl! Stop that!" Hermione shrieked just when the redneck was about to throw the next punch, while Snape slurred at him.
"You dirty mutt!"
"Hermione, keep out of this!" Paul's hard voice cut through her protests as the young woman made a move to intervene. "If that man is indeed Severus Snape… He deserved that punch and more, for what he did to Harry!" There was something violent and blood thirsty in the voice of usually peace-keeping man.
"What the hell are you talking about?" McGonagall hissed dangerously as she held her wand at Daryl's temple, causing the hunter to growl lowly at her.
"Daryl…" Barely more than a whisper, Harry's plea halted the hunter's instinct to beat the shit out of the scumbag, who glared at him out of dark, fathomless eyes.
"Back away from my colleague if you please, Mr. Dixon." The old witch instructed firmly but Daryl just snarled at her again in an almost feral way. But if he had thought that he could intimidate the seasoned witch like that he was sorely mistaken, as her mouth thinned in disapproval.
"I beg your pardon but are you growling at me, young man?" McGonagall inquired curtly. Her expression indignantly put out. "I know this a difficult situation and I am sure that you are very worried about young Mr. Potter, but I will be not growled at!" She sniffed stiffly at him.
Despite himself Daryl felt himself flush in embarrassment, feeling like a the lowest und uncultivated of trash.
"Daryl?" Hesitantly a small hand tugged at his pant leg, and pleading green-eyes asked him silently to stop.
And just in this moment it dawned on Daryl that Harry had told only Paul and him about what Snape had done… Hermione and McGonagall didn't know… They were clueless. Because Harry wanted them to be. The green eyed youth had trusted Daryl and Paul with this secret. And confronting the former Death Eater right now would also reveal something that wasn't theirs to reveal… and it would meaning betraying the trust Harry had bestowed on his lovers.
Searching for Paul's cyan eyes he received a tired and exhausted nod from his strong, little ninja. Yeah, Paul had understood this dilemma, too…
So, Daryl pulled back, biting his tongue with a last glower at Snape. All the while making room for a worried Hermione, who waved her wand over a disgruntled Potions Master, muttering "Episkey". With a surprisingly loud crunching sound Snape's nose snapped back into place.
Sneering and glaring the greasy-haired man climbed to his feet. "May I now, with your permission tend to Potter?" He hissed out in dripping sarcasm, not waiting for a response as he crouched down next to Harry again.
"Get away from him!" Someone barked abruptly.
Negan.
The Saviour's leader had also jumped out of the window after Carl and Rick and was now levelling an impressive glare at Snape.
"What now?" The British teacher barked, clearly running out of patience with all the interruptions.
"I know your face! You're one of them! I saw you! Don't fucking touch Harry! You hear me?!" Negan seethed at the wizard, who barely spared him a glance.
"I take, you would rather have the boy suffer and maybe die then?" The hooked nosed man sneered in a sarcastic drawl, which seemed to infuriate Negan even more.
"Fuck you! You watched on as they tortured him! I saw you smirking and laughing when Dolohov…" The Saviour's leader broke off abruptly, swallowing with visible difficulty.
Daryl felt like someone had pulled the rug from under him. This went so much farther than anything Harry had told them yet. And as irrational as it was, it left the bitter aftertaste of jealousy coursing through his veins. He wasn't even sure, who he was really jealous of to be honest. But he could neither stand the thought of Snape having touched or seen Harry like that nor could he stomach that Negan had such intimate knowledge of this lover's past.
A hand gently grabbed his arm, causing him to look into troubled cyan eyes. Paul had pressed his lips to a thin line and while he didn't seem as angry or upset as Daryl felt, he looked certainly uneasy and pained about the situation. They shared a long searching look.
"Harry's badly hurt." It was the only thing that came over Paul's lips in the end but the grave way he said it and the intense worry in his bright eyes, worked as well as a bucket of ice-cold water on the green flames burning Daryl's guts.
He was right. What did any of this matter if Harry was suffering…?
If it was still uncertain that he would be well again…
And right now, their little wizard was pale as hell under purpling bruises, dirt and a vast amount of blood. Not speaking of the alarming, twitching shaking that reminded Daryl of the seizures Harry had endured when his magic had been still bound.
Yeah, Paul was right. They could freak out later…
Completely disinterested in their inner turmoil Snape had ignored them either way and had started to apply potion after potion giving out harsh and unfriendly instructions to the two witches.
"How can you let that man touch him?" Negan snarled at Daryl and Paul from behind. Still burning for an outlet to his anger the hunter wheeled around with barred teeth. But the expression Negan sported, stopped him from attacking the man. There was a wildness in his face that spoke of intense fear and trauma, that chilled Daryl to the bone. It was a familiar look… something Daryl had witnessed countless times… in Harry.
And the hunter realized that it had been caused by the imprint of green-eyed wizard's memories on the man's mind.
"After what he let that bastard do to the kid?! What kind of spineless son of a bitch would back down like that…?" Negan seethed at Daryl and Paul, who stared at the Saviour's leader with an expression that screamed in equal parts of awkward pity and irritation.
The hunter observed, how Snape stiffed a little. It was the only indication that the man had even heard Negan's words. And the tightening of Paul's hand around Daryl's arm revealed that his bright-eyed lover had noticed it too.
"Shut it!" Daryl hissed back, angered by Negan's audacity. "Yer hav' no right ta sprout bullshit like that! Yer were just all too ready to see us all dead. Especially Harry! So, just shut the fuck up!"
His outburst caused a very particular reaction in Negan.
The man suddenly stopped his mad shouting, standing so very, very still… seeming almost frozen. Abruptly the Saviour's leader started to shake his head as if trying to dislodge something troublesome clinging to him, all the while blinking as if in a light daze. Contradicting emotions ran over his face in quick succession, accompanied by laboured breaths and a strange sobbing sound.
"I meant what I said to Rick…" Negan finally growled at Daryl. "I am done fighting against you. I do know when I lost. After what Harry showed me… I don't think I could ever lift a fucking finger against him again… That little fucker!" Negan choked out with a startled half-laugh, dragging a hand over his face, looking badly rattled…and broken…
It was a terrifying thought that Harry had done this on purpose to anyone. That he had the ability to do that.
Even if Negan had deserved it.
"What did Potter do to you?" Somehow, now they had garnered Snape's attention and Daryl shivered under the scrutiny of those cold eyes and cynical mouth. Negan didn't seem to fare much better, as he pressed his lips to a tight line, glaring maliciously at the former Death Eater.
Snape's cloak whispered mysteriously as he swooped in on them excluding gravitas and authority.
"Tell me." He drawled almost seductively, eyes like dark tunnels firmly fixed on Negan.
"Fuck…!" Negan hissed, swaying dangerously.
Daryl could see how the Negan's eyes glossed over for a second like they had when Harry had looked into the man's mind. Whatever Snape saw in Negan's mind had the man sneering in bitter rage.
"That arrogant imbecile!"
Suddenly a light that Daryl identified as a mild stinging hex hit the Potions Master on the left arm, making him jump.
"Says the overgrown bat!" Harry's irritated voice snapped from behind them. More than a little astonished Paul and Daryl stared at the green-eyed youth while Hermione coughed, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin. With all his injuries Harry's anger seemed to run on pure adrenalin. A spiteful glare was thrown over a black clad shoulder conveying a stark dislike for the younger wizard.
"Tell me, are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an arrogant and attention-seeking brat, Potter? Without the proper training you performed the mind arts on a mere muggle? Showing him those memories? What else did you show him?" Snape snarked bitterly at his former student.
Only Paul's slender hand on his biceps held Daryl back from attacking the British bastard, but his lover's cyan eyes were glaring at Snape, too.
"Oh, shove it! As if you have been a prime example of restraining your own grudges in the last years, you spiteful arse! Those were my memories! Mine! And I share them with whomever I like! You have absolutely no say in that. Especially not you!" Next to Daryl, Paul choked. Neither of them had ever heard the usually polite and shy teen being so rude to anyone…
"I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even 'the Chosen One'! You're a fool who wears his heart proudly on his sleeves, who cannot control his emotions, who wallows in sad memories and allows himself to be provoked so easily. You might be labouring under the delusion that the entire world is impressed with you . . . but I don't care. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him." Snape barked back, dark red patches appearing on pale cheeks.
A lesser man might have pulled back at the sight of the furious Potions Master but not their green-eyed lion, who glared just as fiercely back at the man. But just when Harry was about to open his mouth – to argue back without a doubt – he got swatted up the head by a very stern looking McGonagall.
"Both of you will cease this unbecoming and outrageous squabbling, right now!" She admonished both of them very firmly. The sheepish look on Harry's face and the bashful scowl on Snape's made them both like scolded schoolboys.
"I'm sorry, Professor." The green-eyed teen mumbled; cheeks flushed in embarrassment. It was an adorable look on their little wizard.
"I'll take it that since Mr. Potter is well enough to quarrel with you that he'll live, Severus?!" McGonagall remarked dryly, causing Snape's scowl to deepen further.
"Of course." He sneered. "Potter might require a few more potions, but he'll live."
"Very well then, I guess it would be appropriate to relocate further discussions to give all of us a moment to breathe." The elderly witch nodded resolutely at them all.
"Uhm… sure Professor… My house is just a little down the road." Harry blinked in surprise.
"That sounds acceptable. I am correct in the assumption that you have tea, Potter?" McGonagall already stood, clearly expecting to be led to their home.
Bewildered and more than a little overwhelmed by today's happenings Daryl and Paul could do nothing more than gap stupidly as Harry's former teacher stood regally in the midst of rumble and ruins, just invited herself calmly for tea into their home.
And speaking for himself the hunter didn't know if he had the strength to fight left to fight the authoritarian old woman on that matter. If he was honest all he wanted, was to grab his two lovers and bury them all under a huge pile of blankets in their bed and sleep.
He just…
This day had killed him a hundred times over. Form being so useless against Dolohov, with Harry nearly dying twice in the same day… And now with Harry's wizard-friends here, that seemed to analyse and judge every inch of his existence… and his place next to two the beautiful young men, that had become the centre of his life…
With Snape here, sneering at Harry like he was scum, knowing what that man had done…
Daryl felt old. And tired. He felt infinitely inadequate.
With a pained wheeze Harry tried to get to his feet, failing spectacular. Only Daryl's quick intervention prevented him from falling flat on his nose. His strong hunter grumbled under his breath, pulling the wizard's lighter form securely against his broader body. Harry could sense that Daryl was near his breaking point. He felt it in the man's tense muscles, and he saw it in the closed-off expression the archer sported, glaring at everyone. And the green-eyed youth wanted nothing more than to kiss that frowning mouth and to let his hands smooth those deep worry lines of Daryl's forehead.
Underneath all that aggressive and gruff display lay a tender and vulnerable heart and Harry feared what the recent events could have done to both of his lovers, who battled each their own demons and insecurities.
Another ripple of pain killed all of Harry's conscious thoughts and caused him to bury his face into the sweat soaked fabric of Daryl's shirt, trying to muffle the shout that was building up in his throat. His lover's familiar smell being the only comfort as he rode the waves of overwhelming pain.
The muscles in Daryl's arms were bulging and quivering as the hunter held him close, staring down at him with wide blue eyes full of alarm and fear.
"You said he was alright!" The archer barked roughly at Snape, barring his teeth at the former Death Eater.
"I'll said, he'll live." Snape sneered back cynically. "Not that he will be alright immediately."
"Bastard!" Daryl snarked and Harry guessed that if his shaking body in the hunter's arms hadn't restricted his lover's movements that he would have tried to break Snape's over large nose, again.
"Gentleman!" McGonagall strict voice interrupted them firmly. "Let's bring Mr. Potter to a better location, preferably a bed so we can finish treating his wounds and get some damn tea to calm the tempers down."
Damn… McGonagall had cursed…
Well fuck, Harry knew his former head of house long enough, that they were on thin ice now with the prim old lady.
Breathing heavily the hunter grinded his teeth but nodded none the less and Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief at the prospect to lie down. Very tenderly a calloused thumb brushed over the exposed skin on Harry's neck and despite everything the British youth had to smile.
This was so Daryl, rough and aggressive one second and so gentle and careful the next. Handling Harry as if he feared that one wrong move could cause further injury and unable to stand the thought that he might be the one to inflict any more pain on his loved ones.
The sound of someone clearing their throat had Harry peeking up from his cage of protective arms. Rick hovered awkwardly behind them with Judith on his arm. The rest of Alexandria's community slowly emerging from the hide-out. The sight of the small girl had Harry's heartbeat picking up…
… only now it fully registered to his brain that Dolohov was gone. Dead. Snape had killed him.
Judi was safe.
Dolohov hadn't gotten to her… she wouldn't be hurt like that other little girl. This time Harry hadn't been completely useless. Together they had managed to hold out just long enough. Harry felt his knees buckle under the utter relief that washed over him, forcing Daryl to hold him a little tighter as most of the teen's weight now rested on him.
"Rick, may I hold Judith? Please?" Harry whispered, causing his foster father and his lovers to look at him in surprise. Rick visibly hesitated, apparently very unsure if Harry would be up to the task of supporting the little girl's weight in his current state. Daryl and Paul were frowning in a similar manner, silently debating if granting the badly injured wizard's wish wouldn't do more harm than good to the teen.
But it seemed that it wasn't their decision to make any way…
Judith had heard Harry's voice and was now squirming restlessly in her father's arms and when Rick failed to do as his princess demanded, she started to protest loudly. clearly unhappy with the delay.
"Jude! Hey, hold still!" Rick had obviously problems to hold onto her. "Ouch!"
Harry winced in sympathy when the disgruntled toddler gripped a fistful of her dad's beard and pulled roughly. But the teen couldn't deny that he yearned to gather the precious little girl in his arms, to feel her weight warm and solid, to reassure himself that she was indeed still very much alive.
That she wasn't like that nameless little girl he had left behind in Voldemort's dungeons.
"Let the kid hold her, Rick!" Negan had watched the display between father and daughter with dark and solemn eyes, a forlorn smile twisting his lips.
And for the first time Harry realized that Negan probably knew exactly what he was feeling right now…
Snape had been right he had no training in the mind arts and yet he had pulled Negan into his memories to share some of his worst horrors. Harry had not just forced some pictures on the man. No, he had flooded the Saviour's cocky leader with his own feelings and sensations. The smells, the pain, the helplessness and shame.
Negan did not only know now what had happened, he understood… Harry could sense that in the way the older man looked at the little girl with longing and relief clear on his exhausted face.
"Hell, if I thought you would even consider it, I would beg you to let me hold her myself." Negan laughed in defeat.
The grimace, that appeared on Rick's face in response to Negan's words, was a strange mixture of disgust and pity. But the former Sheriff finally relented and brought Judith to where Harry and Daryl stood. Eagerly the slender teen hugged the small girl and was met with a overjoyed squeal, while the hunter's strong arms made sure that his Lil' Asskicker wouldn't fall. With a sob that was half pain and half relief Harry buried his face in the child's soft curls.
She was alive and well. He hadn't failed!
Attentively he listened as Judith happily babbled, while tugging at his raven hair to make sure to keep his attention just on her. Harry chuckled tearfully, when she turned her big, round eyes on Daryl and Paul, apparently just noticing that they were there, too. Impatiently she patted her tiny hand against Paul's arm to make him listen to her as well.
"What happened to the other little girl?" Negan's question pulled Harry out of his small bubble. "The memory… it ended… before… Did she… Did she make it?" The man in the leather jacket asked carefully and the green-eyed wizard thought that maybe Negan wasn't sure himself if he even wanted to hear the truth.
Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw Snape flinching badly.
Yeah, that little girl's fate had to weight on his conscious, too… As much as Snape's prickish attitude grated on Harry's nerves, he knew that old dungeon bat had neither enjoyed raping Harry nor had he enjoyed watching what had happened to that little girl. For a moment the young wizard wondered if Snape, too, woke up at night drenched in sweat, her shrill screams still ringing hauntingly in his ears…
Seeking as much comfort as possible in Daryl' presence behind him and Paul's next to him, Harry pressed a loving kiss on Judith's blond curls.
"She died in my arms, bleeding to death." He revealed finally.
His voice soft, his breath hitching, he fought desperately against the memories that threatened to drown them.
She had been so afraid… so hurt after what Dolohov had done to her. Harry remembered being horrified himself as the Death Eaters had forced him to watch, shouting and screaming himself raw, hoping despite everything that they would find a last shred of humanity in them. He remembered that Lucius Malfoy had looked very faint and more than a little green. And although Snape's expression had been unfathomable… his dark eyes had been full of regret and deep pain when he had been ordered to leave Harry's cell with the rest of the Death Eaters. When the man had sneaked back - probably to help - , she had already passed away.
Snape had just stood there staring at a sobbing Harry, who had still been rocking her cooling body.
"They left her corps with me for days afterwards. As a reminder… I think." The green-eyed wizard told Negan tonelessly, who slumped down on the gutter, a faraway look in his eyes.
"Yeah, probably…" The man in the leather jacket muttered dejectedly, before he raised red rimmed eyes to look at Harry. "I… I don't know if you believe me… but for what's it worth. I am sorry."
The British youth wasn't sure what exactly the Saviour's leader was apologizing for… but he seemed earnest about it.
"I told Rick that I am done… and I meant it, Harry. I am done fighting. I admit defeat. You won kid." Negan's broken tone had Harry swallowing heavily.
The British youth's head was reeling with the implications. This would mean that the war with the Saviours was over… That their communities could be safe now… that they wouldn't have to fight one another again. But could they trust anyone in that community ever again?
Blood had been shed on both sides…
There was so much to think about, and their next steps had to be taken mindfully…
But for now, …
"Thank you, I am glad to hear that." Harry offered a little awkwardly but sincere. Exchanging a look with Rick, he added. "But what's going to happen now, will be a group decision. There will be a trial." With exhaustion etched onto his face, Negan nodded. "Rick, maybe you should call Natania. I think she really needs to know what happened… And she should be the one to decide what to do with Dolohov's body." Harry sighed, feeling suddenly bone tired but Harry's gaze searched for Snape's dark eyes.
The Potions Master was looking strangely at him, not surprised per se… but like he had just seen something entirely unexpected.
Back in their house Paul and Daryl brought Harry and the Hogwarts group to their guest room on the ground floor, as it was the closest room with a comfortable bed.
Paul was the perfect picture of a polite and diplomatic host in the tense atmosphere. He just couldn't help himself… Today was just a little too much. And when that strict old lady, who reminded him painfully of the matron that had run the group home, had appeared, Paul had just automatically slipped into full Jesus-mode.
In the past that had been easy…
It had been a skin that he had worn comfortably and with a feeling of security, but something had changed and now he felt almost sick adopting that old persona again. It took him a bit to realize that he had gotten so used to being himself with Harry and Daryl that going back to being aloof was almost as terrifying as getting too close had once been. And yet he had fallen back in those old patterns, maybe this was his way of dissociating… But all this reflecting only added to his discomfort.
What Paul really wanted was to fall into Daryl's and Harry's arms, just seeking comfort in the steady beats of their hearts. They had come so dangerously close to loosing each other today… and Paul had been so fucking useless in all of that.
That Harry was still alive… damn that they all were still alive… that had been thanks to the small wizard and the magical friends he had informed about Dolohov…
Paul hadn't felt this helpless since the death of his family and the first year in the system. It made his skin itch.
And it still made him want to fucking run, so bad after all these years! But in the past the thought of running had come as a relief, now it caused his chest to cramp even worse. Before Daryl and Harry, Paul had been falling like there was no ground under him… his life and his actions had been driven by a never-ending panic and fear of constantly falling. All his life he had shied away from meaningful relationships, because he hadn't been able to bear this floundering feeling. And so, he had craved crash after crash…
Alcohol, drugs, sex… when he started his martial arts training it had helped him immensely to cut back most of his bad habits but it hadn't managed to ground the deep rootlessness that made up such a huge part of his psyche.
But Daryl and Harry had slowly but surely given him that security and stability he had longed for all this time. Those two had given him a place to call home and had filled a bit of the hole the loss of Tom and their parents had ripped into his heart.
Running away and leaving them, just wasn't an option anymore without tearing himself to pieces in the process.
A thought that had Paul's heart racing with happiness and fear alike. Loving like that was a gift he hadn't expected anymore but losing it would destroy him beyond repair.
Hiding behind being Jesus wasn't to cut it any longer…
While he smiled politely at Hermione and McGonagall, he couldn't stop casting uneasy glances at Snape, who was now inspecting Harry's small form on the bed. The green-eyed teen looked completely drained.
It was such a stark contrast to the display of power Harry had shown in the last hours that Paul found it difficult to wrap his mind around the drastic change. When Harry had set out to confront Dolohov, he had seemed so strong and so far away… putting this terrifying distance between himself and his lovers…
Some of that heart ache was still lingering between them, making it hard for Paul to reach out to his injured and vulnerable little wizard and to bridge the distance that Harry had forced on them.
But the sight of Snape starting to unbutton the Harry's shirt with long potion-stained fingers and the way the young wizard clenched his jaws in discomfort, had Paul's heart nearly leaped into his throat, ripping him effectively out of his pity party. It was easy to see that Harry had neither the strength nor the resolution to fight Snape about it and was going to bear with the close presence of his former Professor. But the hell if Paul let this happen.
Enough was enough! This was going too far!
It would be a cold day in hell, when he allowed the man that had raped Harry to undress him!
"I don't think so!" Paul snapped angrily at Snape, gripping the man's writs in a strong hold. "That's crossing a line! Harry told us what you did! And you will not undress him."
"Are you stupid? I saved that brat's life. And I'm trying to heal him now." Snape sneered at him, apparently pretty fed up with their accusations all the time.
"Nah, we know that too, but that doesn't mean we trust ya! Yer not going to undress him! And we won't leave ya alone with him, either." Daryl groused threateningly from behind.
"So what?" Snape snorted amused. "I am not allowed to undress Potter? I am sad to inform you that even we wizards need to see some of the damage before we can heal it."
Harry's big green eyes searched for Paul's cyan ones and the former Hilltop scout felt his heart miss a beat at the sight of the sheer vulnerability that was trapped in them. Straightening his shoulders, the long-haired ninja prepared himself to shield Harry. They might have been useless in the fight against Dolohov and his dark magic but he would be damned if he would be useless now.
"Yes, you're not going to undress him. I will and you will back up a bit and give him some space." Paul replied, firmly ignoring the sarcastic bait Snape had laid out. He could keep his cool around that bastard.
He could.
And the way Harry's shoulder lost some of their tension and the grateful smile on his love's lips encouraged Paul that he was doing the right thing. Right now, the green-eyed wizard relied on his and Daryl's protection.
"And what gives you the right to dictate who's going to take off Potter's clothes, I ask myself?" Snape mockingly drawled but there was something dangerous hidden in his voice.
Paul more felt than heard the way Daryl snarled at the conceited son of a bitch, who was clearly weighting and judging them and their place in Harry's life. And that didn't sit right with either of them!
But before the situation could escalate, the sound of someone timidly clearing their throat cut through the tense atmosphere. "Uhm, Professor?"
"What now, Granger? Is there not one occasion when you can be not an insufferable know-it all?" While not her biggest fan, Paul felt offended on the young woman's behalf. The way Snape addressed her was just so incredibly rude.
"Severus! Mind your manners! This is entirely uncalled for." McGonagall snapped at her fellow Professor, but Hermione wasn't deterred by the man's harsh attitude towards her. Instead of shying back she stepped a little closer, almost into Snape's personal space, holding his gaze with confidence.
"They are Harry's partners." Hermione state more clearly and resolutely than Paul could have at the moment, before she added a belated. "Sir."
It was almost comically how Snape's and McGonagall's eyes widened at the information. And while the greasy-haired man sneered a dismissive - "Don't be ridiculous, girl!" - the elderly witch turned her sharp eyes on them, putting them under intense scrutiny.
This was way worse than the moment at the Christmas party when Tara had made fun of their age difference. At least then it had been people that already accepted their relationship, people that were their family… Even if it had been uncomfortable, deep down both Paul and Daryl had known that it had been good-natured teasing.
But this…
There was no acceptance in the eyes of either of Harry's former professors. Just a good amount of incredulity, some disapproval and outright distain. And Paul didn't like to admit it, but this felt devasting in a sense… the pressure of the judgement weighted heavy on him, mostly because Snape and McGonagall knew Harry for such a long time… and maybe because they were part of that other world Harry belonged to…
And like Daryl, Paul knew that there was always a chance that Harry could be sucked back into that wonderful and terrifying world of magic that held no place for either of them… A world they couldn't just follow Harry into.
And today that world had come twice to claim their small lover.
Once in the form of Antonin Dolohov and once in the form of an old classmate and two former teachers… reminding them all that there was still a school full of magic, that Harry could go back to in a heartbeat.
"Uhm… she is right, you know. I am in a relationship with Daryl and Paul." Harry interjected sending a small awkward but earnest smile at his former head of house, not even bothering with Snape. McGonagall only reaction was to raise her eyebrow even further in surprise and a small curious tilt of her head.
But Snape's snarky voice interfered before she could say anything on the matter.
"Potter, how is it that you decided to take on two lovers? But I have to say it is somewhat fitting that you went for another flee-riddled mutt and someone that looks like a poor imitation of the messiah." Paul felt himself flush in anger.
How dared that bastard!
Daryl was no mutt!
But it seemed like that insult was more meant for Harry than Daryl or Paul, since McGonagall intercepted the potential argument yet again, before the tired looking youth could retail.
"Oh Severus, personally I think that Mr. Rovia pulls the look off quite well and I see absolutely no similarity between Mr. Dixon and Sirius. And I certainly see no need why we should pull an old school yard feud into this, now do we?" She remarked very drily and all Paul could think was 'burned'.
Damn he started to like that woman. She certainly knew how to reign in unruly children.
"Fuck!"
Harry's alarmed exclamation interrupted the ongoing glaring match between his lovers and Snape and McGonagall's stern supervision.
"Mr. Potter, language!" The elderly witch berated her former student strictly. Harry flushed adorably in response and tried to shrug a little awkwardly
"Sorry Professor… but someone needs to do a perimeter check! I just… The fight… all that noise, the lights… Merlin, all the magic… we must have called all the walkers in a 20 miles radius to the community!" The tiny wizard in the bed was already trying to get up, but was abruptly halted in his movements.
"Where do you think, you're going, Mr. Potter?" The elderly witched asked.
"Uhmm…"
"Yeah, I don't think so." McGonagall sniffed. "You'll stay right there in the bed. I already saw you toppling over more than enough for one day."
And honestly Paul thought that even a hardass like Rick would not argue with this woman.