Chapter 8 Care

…Harry was chained to the wall, the skin around his wrists chaffed and bloodied. It was another day of training, deep in the depths of the Department of Mysteries. Of course, Dumbledore had not listened…Had refused to even let him explain.

"Jaggers! McCalister!" Moody barked. "Dumbledore has asked us to teach Potter a lesson."

"Of course, it would be our pleasure…"

Harry whimpered, knowing what was to come.

"Constant vigilance, boy!" Moody spoke, his breath tickling the shell of his ear. "If you were captured , you would break so easily. But you can't break what's already broken. You see? Dumbledore knows this and we have generously agreed to assist him. By the time we're through with you boy, you'll understand that mercy doesn't exist…"

"Please, Moody!" A cutting curse. The taste of blood. "I'm sorry….!"

…The scene changed, the floor dissolving and swallowing him whole. Harry was looking into the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore. Harry was fully clothed, sitting in the headmaster's office. His hand was still lightly bleeding from the blood quill, but he couldn't trust Dumbledore to take care of him.

"Harry, if I had known…"

Known what? How Moody broke him in two? How Jaggers and McCalister panted in his ear as they came?

"I understand, headmaster. It needed to be done." But it didn't, not really. He just wanted to leave.

"You're wrong," Dumbledore said firmly, standing up to his full height. Harry could only look dully at him. His fear response just wasn't the same as it used to be. He was skittish and fearless at odd turns. He knew there was some truth to what Moody had told him over and over again: you can't break what's already been broken. And Harry was, well and truly broken.

"Professor, please, you don't have to apologize." he couldn't listen to this anymore. He was done with these half-baked apologies. The excuses. He had endured Moody's stares at Order meetings. They were still allies in this war. Harry was just being sacrificed—again. He understood this.

"No, Harry, you don't understand. It is my job to protect you and I have failed. And I will not fail again."

"What do you—?"

"I will protect you, Harry. You shouldn't have to live with these memories, but they are too ingrained to remove." Dumbledore pulled his wand from his sleeve.

"You're…" Harry didn't like the sound of that, jumping up and running towards the door. The last time someone had pointed a wand to his head and tried to obliviate him was Lockhart. He couldn't let that happen again. He would not…The door was locked. Stupid! Why had he tried to run? Didn't he know by now that mercy never came?

The world went black, and when he woke up, he was sitting in the headmaster's office like nothing had ever happened.

"Ah, Severus, thank you for coming so quickly. I would like you to teach Harry, here, occlumency."

Severus' lip had curled. He surveyed Potter with disdain…Harry didn't look much happier, and yet, he felt much lighter…

-o-o-o-

Severus usually cast a spell on Harry's door when the screaming started, not wanting to bother with another one of Potter's quirks. He had a year of this insanity. He couldn't possibly afford to stay awake each night, hearing the boy's tortured screams well into the dawn. And yet, Severus found himself thinking over what the boy had said to him that evening.

Surely, if Granger and Weasley were here, they'd comfort him. But they weren't here, and Weasley would not be again. Another tortured scream. Why hadn't he cast a silencing charm like he had the nights before? Maybe, because he…no, he didn't care. That was absurd.

Severus' room was on the other end of the hallway. Technically, Harry was supposed to be in his room, chained to the foot of the bed, but he was never one for dramatics. It was a large house, one of many the Dark Lord had acquired in case of emergencies. It was equipped with muggle appliances as well, in the event that magic couldn't be used for any length of time. In other words, if the Dark Lord were forced into hiding, which seemed rather unlikely given the course of the war. With three bedrooms upstairs, Severus had quickly decided which one to keep his prisoner in, which was, naturally, as far away from his room as possible.

Somehow, Severus found himself now standing in front of it. Another anguished cry. Severus pushed open the door.

The boy was tangled in his sheets again, his hands clutching the headboard, like they were tied there above his head. His hips bucked and he continued to cry. The position was awkward. It looked like the boy was in pain, and Severus could see the sleep pants riding low on his hips…He should wake the boy up. His face was scrunched in pain.

"Please," Harry moaned. "S-stop…"

Severus froze, watching the body writhe on the sheets. It didn't make sense. "Potter," he called.

The boy didn't hear.

"POTTER!"

More mumbling.

"Oh, for the love of—POTTER!" he grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook him gently. The boy's eyes lolled open, then fell shut again. His body tensed, then he grabbed Snape's arms suddenly and started to cry in earnest.

"Please, Professor Dumbledore…"

It was starting to scare him. The boy kept crying harder. Acting on instinct, Severus gathered the boy in his arms and sat on the edge of the bed, just cradling the boy to his chest. What had he told him again? That Granger would brush his hair with her hands? He reached for the top of Potter's head, his black hair a rat's nest, like petting a rabid cat.

"Shhhh," Severus said, rubbing circles on his back over the t-shirt that was stuck to it with sweat.

"No…" Harry mumbled again, giving a quiet shudder. "No mercy…"

"You're here, Potter, you're—" Safe? In the Dark Lord's prison? "You're alive. You're here." What comforting words, Severus, he chided himself. That will surely bring the boy some comfort.

He could hear the boy's heart beating frantically against his own chest, the boy's arms around his waist, clinging to him like a ragdoll. Potion stained fingers carded through the his wild black hair. Was this how Granger had done it? Didn't she realize how incredibly intimate it was? But then, Ron had hugged him too. They had been friends.

Bitterly, Severus thought back to when he would wake alone in the Slytherin dormitories. No one had ever held him like this, comforted him after a night terror…

The body began to still.

"Severus?" Emerald eyes gleamed up at him in the darkness. A blink. Was the boy still dreaming or was he finally awake?

"You were…having a nightmare," Snape by way of explanation, as if it weren't abundantly obvious. Belatedly, he realized the boy had used his first name. He would let it slide. For now. "I came to offer you…comfort."

Harry pulled away from him, attempting to make out his face in the dim light that streamed in from the hallway. "You never have before," Harry mumbled sleepily.

True. "Your behavior was concerning me." Not a lie. "If you need this comfort, I shall attempt to provide it while you're in my—" Custody? Care? There were no words that were appropriate. Despite his declaration earlier, this was no vacation.

"Thank you…" The arms tightened around him. A hug. Then the boy's eyes drifted shut, the Aegis thrumming, sending waves of Safety through his exhausted body.

"You're welcome."

-o-o-o-

Snape entered through the front doors. Why should he not? He was a Death Eater and Hogwarts was the Dark Lord's.

The corridors seemed colder than before. The lively chatter of students, ominously absent. The Carrows had certainly left their mark. Severus passed no one on his way to the headmistress' office, knowing that class was in session. With the Dark Lord's soul more intact, his sanity seemed to have return to him. The Dark Lord had thoughtfully selected Narcissa Malfoy to run Hogwarts, and Severus couldn't have been more grateful that he was spared the mind bending gymnastics that would have surely ensued had he been given the position instead.

Narcissa was calculating and coldly polite—when she wanted to be. Her owl had come unexpectedly that morning. Of course, you may see what I've done with the place. –N.M.

Severus stopped suddenly, in the corridor outside the stairwell leading to the headmistress' office. A tingle ran up his spine and he turned, wand sliding down his sleeve and inconspicuously into his palm.

"You have some nerve coming back here, Severus."

Minerva stood behind him, some feet away. Her own wand in her hand, but she didn't seem intent on using it. Her face seemed to have aged in years since he had last seen her, her wrinkles appearing more pronounced and her head carrying more white hairs than he remembered.

Severus straightened. "Minerva…"

She took a step forward. "He trusted you," she hissed lowly, the pain forced out in four syllables.

He could feel her desire to curse him, but hoped she had the presence of mind to not attempt it. He wouldn't be able to interfere if she overstepped her bounds.

"I'm only here to see the headmistress," Severus said evenly.

"That's surprising," Minerva said, eyes flashing. "I thought you already had meetings where you exchanged news."

"Unfortunately, there are some I need to speak with who can only be found in the castle."

The meaning hung in the air between them. Minerva looked uncertain for a moment, as if afraid to hope.

"Ah, Severus, punctual as always," Narcissa Malfoy's voice was pleasant as she took in the scene before her, but her sharp blue eyes belied her tone. "Come in, come in…"

The headmistress' office was much the same as before. Too much clutter, Narcissa had said. And truth be told, she was hesitant to move anything before she knew what it did. She did, however, add a few flowers to the room, changed the curtains, the rug, and the chairs. It was an odd mixture of Dumbledore's eccentric tastes and the Malfoy's love of luxury. Severus was aware of the portrait's eyes even before he truly glanced at it.

"You got my note," Narcissa said, straight to the point.

"Obviously."

Narcissa sat in the chair behind the desk, gesturing for Severus to take a seat in the armchair across from her. The chair itself was comfortable. The position, too familiar for Severus to feel comfortable with.

"I appreciate what you did for me," Narcissa said softly, losing some of her pretense. "But I am afraid I have lost my son again."

"He isn't dead," Severus corrected her.

"No, he is just a plaything for that—"

"Narcissa!"

"Yes, yes, I know." Her eyes were steely. "This is not how I imagined victory…you know I have contacted the Order."

"Undoubtedly. And they have agreed to rescue Draco because they are Gryffindors."

"Of course," Narcissa sniffed. "I wouldn't have gone to them otherwise. They aren't much pleased with you, Severus. They're only agreeing because I promised them Potter in exchange."

"You will need to wait until the potion is complete," Severus reminded her harshly. "Otherwise, Potter and I are dead, which I know is no great concern of yours, but Gryffindors are a temperamental breed. They'll kill Draco on the spot, suspecting foul play when Potter ends up dead within a week."

"We've been over this. I will wait a year if I must, but only if I must."

Malfoys, Severus thought, always so entitled, thinking the world revolved around them and their needs. He was working, damn her, working towards his freedom and his peace! Of course, he wanted to succeed before the year was up!

"I apologize. I know I'm not your master, and that I should very well be bowing down to you," Narcissa said, looking away. "I just can't stand the thought of Draco suffering…victory wasn't supposed to be like this."

Spare me, Severus thought, but inwardly he agreed. She gave a deep sigh and stood up. "You have ten minutes," Narcissa said and swept out of the room.

The door clicked shut.

And finally, finally, Severus slowly lifted his eyes to the portrait that hung from the wall.

"Albus…" Severus' voice broke for the first time as those twinkling blue eyes peered down at him. "I would grovel before your frame, but it appears we don't have much time."

"My boy," Albus replied. "It is unfortunate, but I have died as I intended. You are now trusted in Voldemort's ranks and Harry is…It has come to my attention that you have claimed the boy."

"Only to protect him!" Severus snapped, the old wound reopening. For all his sacrifices, Dumbledore was still so ready to believe the worst of him. "And if you had heard, you would know that there are plans already in place to save him!"

"Forgive me, I only meant that I am proud of your foresight," Albus said, looking pensive. "He is safest with you. I'm sure even he knows it. It is unfortunate that Voldemort only gave you a year. In time, I am sure you would have learned to get over your childish hatred of each other."

"I…I do not hate him."

"Oh?" Albus looked down at him, like a father would a son discovering something new, like watching snowfall for the first time.

"Actually, I am…concerned for the boy," Severus bit out. He was sure that if he called him Harry, the headmaster would faint, painting or not. "They tortured him for weeks, Albus. I think it has unhinged him."

"Hmmm."

"He seems to seek physical affection," Severus continued, "He's suggested that I, that I hug him."

"Hmmm."

"And he makes me coffee!"

"Is that the extent of his odd behavior?" Albus asked.

Snape glared.

"Then I see no problem. He's been hurt badly in the past, Severus. Seeking a hug, yes, even from you, is not a cause for worry. It's actually expected. And as for making you drinks, Severus? Is that really so hard to fathom? Harry going out of his way to make the people around him happy?"

"Yes!" Albus wasn't getting it. "It feels forced, Albus. Wrong. He kept brushing his hand against mine when he thought I wouldn't catch him and he's even had the gall to suggest that I should touch him just to keep the Dark Lord off our backs!"

"That seems like a rather practical plan of Harry's."

Severus reeled back. "You're not disgusted at the thought of me touching your precious golden boy?" Severus asked as nastily as he could.

"Well, I didn't say to go along with it, Severus." Albus fixed him with a shrewd look over his half-moon spectacles. The twinkling in his eyes no less dim than when he had been alive. "Severus, what is this really about? Are you upset because he seems to want to be closer to you, knowing there is no one else around, or are you upset because you actually enjoy it?"

"Of course I'm upset that I enjoy it! When he lets me hold him through his nightmares, it makes me feel good." Like I'm worth something. Like I'm needed. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Albus nodded. "And you feel protective over him?"

"Of course! When have I not?"

"And you are sure you will not act on these feelings other than to protect him?" Albus confirmed.

"What? I thought you said there was nothing wrong with it!"

Albus shifted in his frame. "I said, Severus, that there was nothing wrong with offering Harry physical affection. A hug here or there won't kill you. But you must not, under any circumstances, use him to satisfy your needs, no matter how good it makes you feel. Are we clear?"

"Albus!" Severus stood up, shaking with rage. He was unsure at what moment that the conversation had twisted so far, so fast. "I would never—! How dare you suggest—! You cannot possibly believe that I would—!"

But Albus was shaking his head sadly. "Severus, I won't make you swear any vows. I doubt I could as a portrait, even so…I want what is best for Harry, Severus, and I have made mistakes in the past. I could not live with myself if I knew that I had hurt him yet again."

"Good thing you don't have to," Severus said cruelly. "You made sure of that."

"Severus…I am sorry, my boy. I am sorry for you both…But in war, we must all make sacrifices."