Disclamer : Nothing is mine. Not Harry Potter, not history.
Title : Dans vos yeux
Author : Ardha
Translator : Ange Phoenix
Bêta : Antidote / Rainy Girl (If you are ever interested in becoming my beta, don't hesitate to contact me!)
Summary : After the events of his fifth year, Harry is in a bad way, he is drifting away from his friends and slowly destroying himself. The only ones who will reach out to him are his worst enemies, will they be able to save him? /!\Warning/!\ : Threesome slash SSDMHP, self-mutilation, eating disorders, violence, OOC characters...
Authorisation : The author obviously allowed me to translate her fanfiction.
Note : This is my first English translation, I hope there won't be too many mistakes!
Note 2 : If you wish, I have created a discord for my translations, here is the link : h.t.t.p.s. : / / discord . gg / zFp2PHTxDR
DANS VOS YEUX
Chapter 1
CHAPITRE 1
The grunts of pain echoed through the corridors of Hogwarts. A few yards from the Great Hall, two students were bumping into each other harder and harder. Harry Potter's fist crashed hard into Draco Malfoy's nose. Blood gushed out in a steady stream and Draco let out a small scream as he put his hand to his broken nose. Lost in their mutual hatred, they struggled as strong arms separated them.
Ron held Harry against his chest, half-carrying him to prevent him from lunging at the blond again. Blaise, on the other hand, held Draco tightly even though he was more concerned about the blood on his face.
–Calm down Harry! Merlin stop struggling like that, Ron formulated with difficulty as he tightened his grip around the dark-haired man's chest.
Malfoy's grey eyes sparkled with rage as he looked down at his hand covered in his own blood. He glared at the Survivor.
–This guy is sick! He's completely mad! You're crazy Potty, Malfoy grumbled, wiping some of the blood from his nose.
–What's going on here?
The hollow voice echoed in their ears. The effect was immediate, they stopped moving with bated breath. The footsteps came closer to the little group and the sound of fabric was as loud as a storm.
–Well, well. Mr. Potter, I think detention tonight won't hurt you. Tonight, eight o'clock, Potions Room.
Snape's eyes expressed nothing in particular as he kept his gaze on Weasley and Potter, the former of whom was looking at the floor in a suddenly interesting way and the latter of whom was killing it with his eyes. The Potions Master wondered what was wrong with Potter? He had been fighting for months. Anyway, that wasn't his problem.
-Mr. Zabini, take Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary.
Barely glancing at his godson, Snape turned away in a cloak and dagger motion. Before he disappeared around a corridor, the Professor's voice called out:
-By the way, thirty points off for Gryffindor. Fighting is forbidden.
Ron sighed softly behind Harry's back as he stood still. Tonight was going to be hell. Another detention with Snape to ruin his morale. He disengaged himself from Ron's arms still around his chest and walked off to who knows where with a grumble. He really didn't need an evening with the greaseball. What he hated was getting caught like a first year every time. And anyway, it wasn't all his fault, Malfoy had brought it on himself. Harry couldn't remember what the blond had said to him but it must have been something horrible. It usually was.
–Harry, where are you going? Ron asked.
–He's going to cry in his mother's skirt, Malfoy replied. Ah, no, that's right, she's dead.
Draco recoiled as the dark-haired man turned to glare at him. It was one of the first times Potter's gaze didn't just reflect hatred. There was a new glow. Harder. Different. Thinking back to their little fight, Draco wondered why Potter had gone berserk like that. He hadn't said anything in particular to him, yet the dark-haired man had thrown himself at him and hit him. And right now, if Weasley hadn't put his hand on the dark-haired man's arm, he would have probably thrown himself at him again.
–Shut up, Malfoy. Harry, come on, let's get out of here.
With a final glare, the two Gryffindor turned on their heels. As they disappeared down another corridor, Blaise tugged on Draco's sleeve to lead him to the infirmary. Pomfrey greeted them with his fists on his hips, his head cocked slightly to the side, a falsely stern expression on his face.
–So Mr. Malfoy, another fight?
Draco shrugged, you didn't have to be a master of Divination to guess that. Even that crazy Trelawney could figure it out without a problem. The nurse made him lie down on a bed and gave him a potion to fix his nose. Damn! That potion was infectious and it hurt to feel the cartilage healing. Draco winced.
She let go of him half an hour later, Blaise was already out the door and he headed alone to his next class. Potions.
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XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
.
Harry tapped the table with his finger. He was trying to concentrate on the contact between the cold surface and his skin. For the moment Snape wasn't paying any attention to him, he was still blabbering on about the potion he had written on the board. Harry didn't even know what potion he was talking about. The self-imposed pace allowed him to calm down, and control the anger that was running through him.
–Back to work.
Snape's voice cracked like a whip in the silent room. The professor sat down at his desk and began to correct scrolls. Harry knew that in about twenty minutes he would be wandering through the tables, trying to deduct as many points as possible from the Gryffindor. So Harry forced himself to read the instructions on the board.
The white chalk lines spoke of the Strengthening Solution and its preparation. He thought for a moment, then sighed and decided to foolishly follow the steps on the board.
When his potion turned yellow, he decided to give up. He was too upset to sit still and make such a useless potion.
–Harry, you forgot the salamander blood, Hermione whispered beside him.
He shrugged. Nothing to be done about it. Whether he'd forgotten it or not, he couldn't make the potion properly. The subtleties of potions and he was ten. At least. Or more.
-Mr. Potter, I see you're just as pathetic at following simple instructions. Instead of trying to do a Strengthening Solution, you should be worrying about the problems with your glasses first, don't you think?
The class laughed, well, the Slytherin present laughed. The Gryffindor looked at their potions knowing what was bound to happen next.
–I'm taking ten points off Gryffindor for your inability to read a simple chart.
–Sir, you can't…
–Finish that sentence Miss Granger and it won't be ten but thirty points I'll take off.
Hermione lowered her head, blushing slightly. Snape continued on his way to pick on Neville. Harry sighed, crossed his arms over his table and buried his head in them as he continued to tap his finger. He was going to crack. Somehow he wasn't going to make it. He would never make it.
–Harry? What's wrong?
He looked up at the worried voice. Hermione was looking at him with soft eyes.
–Yes, I am. Very well, 'Mione.
She looked at him a little longer then turned away to her cauldron which was beginning to smoke. Harry put his head back into his arms again. He couldn't sleep anymore. Tired most of the time, he couldn't close his eyes at night. He hardly ate at all. Not to mention all the other things he did.
-Mr. Potter please do not sleep through my class. Ten points down for Gryffindor.
Twenty points in less than an hour. Snape must have been having a bad day too. Harry straightened up, faced the Potions Master's glare, and busied himself with his potion.
With a flick of his wrist, Harry emptied the cauldron as Draco looked on in bewilderment from a distance. What was going on in the dark-haired man's head? He wasn't good at potions, but not that good. Usually Potter managed to finish what was asked of him. Here, he didn't even bother to try. There must be something wrong. But deep down, he didn't care. Potter wasn't his problem. Was it?
At the same time, Severus was looking intently at the Gryffindor who seemed completely out of it. He noticed that the green gaze sometimes remained staring into space for no apparent reason. And then there was that finger that kept tapping against the surface of the table. It was going to drive him crazy. Fortunately for him, the end of class was approaching.
.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
.
Harry got up hurriedly, packed his things and ran down the corridor, he wanted to breathe. He heard hurried footsteps behind him. Ron and Hermione had followed him.
–Harry! Wait for us!
–Where are you going?
Good question. He wasn't sure. He had originally wanted to be alone, but since he had failed to outrun his friends, he would have to put up with them. Since when did he have to support his friends? Since a few months ago. It was sad, but that was the way it was. He couldn't help it, basically. The proximity of the others was becoming unbearable for him.
–I was going to the lake.
–Can we come?
–As you want.
He probably wouldn't talk. If he wanted to go outside it was to be quiet so he wouldn't break down. They had an hour before diner and he was going to breath the fresh air first.
They sat down in front of the lake. Harry leaned against a rock while the other two sat on the grass a little further away. They knew that the dark-haired man was looking for peace in these moments so they gave it to him, while showing their support. They knew Harry had a problem, he didn't want to talk about it and was trying to cope alone. Hermione and Ron were just trying not to impose. They were even trying to pretend that everything was fine. They had always been taught that not seeing a problem made it go away. So they forced themselves to believe that all was well in the best of worlds.
They both sighed. Ron put an arm around Hermione's shoulders, kissed her on the temple and they both looked out over the lake.
Harry watched as the sun descended and reflected off the calm waters. The view was beautiful but it didn't stop his inner struggle. His finger kept tapping against his knee. He needed that to keep from screaming. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ron and Hermione kissing breathlessly. It had only been three months since his two best friends had started dating but they looked happy.
It was hard to believe but Harry was happy for them. He couldn't stand them anymore but he still liked them. The problem was him, not the others. When he was spoken to, he answered nicely most of the time. It was inside that the battle was being fought.
Harry looked out over the water again. It was so quiet. The birds were singing quietly in the trees, the sun was shining, the wind was barely blowing. It was a beautiful end to the day. So why did he feel so bad? Everything should have been fine for him. But it wasn't. His whole life was a deception. A miserable charade.
Harry had defeated Voldemort. Well, he hadn't. Following Ministry orders, the Dark Mage had ended up behind bars in Azkaban. The Minister had not wanted Harry to kill Tom and he still didn't know why. Most of the Death Eaters were also locked up in the prison under heavy guard. But Sirius was dead. His second father was gone while his murderer, Bellatrix Lestrange, was lucky to be spared.
Harry's left fist clenched and those knuckles cracked. Sweat covered the back of his neck, his finger continued its movements. He closed his eyes, exhaled and inhaled.
–Harry, dinner's going to be ready. Shall we go?
He nodded, stood up, dusted off his wizard's robes and looked at his two best friends. They smiled at him. And he gave them a pitiful smile that served everyone well these days. One that didn't reach his eyes, but really, who was paying attention? As long as he showed a half-normal face, nobody noticed.
They set off towards the Great Hall, walking through the corridors crowded with students who were going to eat just like them. As soon as they passed through the main door, they headed for their house table. Dean and Seamus were already seated, chatting together as always.
–Hey! Hi, Harry!
–Hi Dean.
The said Dean exchanged a questioning look with his best friend. Harry looked away. These two were still having a silent conversation. With a raised eyebrow, a blink of the eye, a wrinkle of the nose and a little chuckle, they were able to understand each other perfectly. Sometimes it was scary. Especially when you were the subject of these conversations.
Right now, Harry knew they were 'talking' about him. The weary voice he'd used to greet Dean. The one he used most of the time. He gave up trying to think of an excuse and turned his attention back to Ron beside him.
–I can't believe that asshole stuck you again.
–Ron, don't talk about a teacher like that, Hermione snapped, elbowing the redhead.
–Sorry, 'Mione. But that greasy twat is infuriating me.
-Infuriating you?
Harry and Hermione had just spoken at the same time with the same sarcasm in their voices. They were looking at Ron with slightly rounded eyes.
–Yes, he's infuriating me.
-Have you been to the library lately? Harry asked.
–No, why?
–Because you used the verb "to infuriate".
–So what?
–Never mind, Ron.
Harry looked at his plate. It was full but he wasn't hungry. With his fork, he triturated the food as if he were eating. Usually no one asked him any questions, no one noticed anything.
He looked up as he heard a remark from Seamus about the Quidditch match that was coming up in a fortnight. As he moved, Harry met Malfoy's grey gaze fixed on him. Strange. Normally when they looked at each other, the steely eyes would smile with irony or hatred. There was none of that, at that moment. As soon as he noticed that he was looking at him, Draco looked away and spoke with Blaise beside him as if nothing had happened.
Harry frowned but looked no further. A movement in his field of vision diverted his attention.
Snape had stood up and was walking across the Great Hall. He glared at Harry and waved his hand. His detention had arrived. Harry sighed as he stood up. Silence fell over the Lions' table. Murmurs rose from the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables as evil smiles lit up the faces of the Slytherin.
Dumbledore's eyes and those of all the teachers followed his ascent.
A shiver ran through Harry's body as the doors closed behind him. He didn't like drawing attention to himself. But when you were the Survivor, it was part of the deal. Unfortunately.
Why was he out? Ah, yes, his detention with Snape. With a heavy heart, he headed for the dungeons. What was he going to do this time? Given the number of times he'd been in that potions room, he suspected Snape might come up with something new. He'd done everything from labelling vials to mopping floors with a muggle broom to dusting ingredients with a hippogriff feather. Really, there would be nothing new tonight.
At the door, Harry hesitated to knock. Finally, he did and turned the handle after a muffled 'come in' through the thickness of the door.
–Well, Mr. Potter, you're right on time. For once you haven't got lost. You're getting better.
–What should I do, Professor?
Snape leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and thought. Even though he knew very well what Potter was going to do.
–You're going to scrub every pot. With a toothbrush. Without magic.
Harry raised an eyebrow, the only sign of surprise. A toothbrush? Finally, Snape had managed to innovate. And beautifully, too.
–Did you understand, Potter?
–Yes, sir.
–Very well, you may begin.
Harry went into the next room where he found that there were about twenty pots, each dirtier than the last. Cleaning with a toothbrush was going to be hell. But he had to start, so he took off his wizard's robe and lifted the sleeves of his shirt. He took the toothbrush that Snape had prepared for him and started.
After half an hour he had cleaned five pots. Harry didn't know what years the greenish potion was from, but it was tough and slimy. He paused, blew hard, then looked up.
To find a mirror. Harry hated mirrors. Ever since Sirius died he'd never seen his reflection in a mirror and since that summer it had been even worse. He lost his nerve when he saw his image. He began to tremble as he met her green gaze, so different from his godfather's, so different from before. The scar on his forehead stood out against his paler than usual skin. Dark circles fell under his eyes. He hated his image, this shell, that was not him.
He continued to tremble. He let go of the toothbrush he was still holding and struck the self-imposed rhythm with his finger. He had to pull himself together. But in front of him, he couldn't. He could hardly contain himself when he couldn't see himself. During the day he found it increasingly difficult to keep his temper. Now it was impossible. On top of that he was tired and this punishment was worse than he had ever experienced.
Without meaning to, but suspecting it, he broke down. Tears rolled down his cheeks, as they often do lately, and he could do nothing about it. With a cry of despair he grabbed the cauldron he had been cleaning earlier and threw it at the mirror in front of him. The glass shattered. He screamed and screamed, trying to get out the evil that was slowly consuming him.
He needed to breathe, to find a place where he would feel better. A place where he could be alone and make the physical pain equal the moral pain. He had to get out of here. Out of the dungeons.
–Potter, what is he...?
Harry grabbed his wizard's robe and started for the door. He didn't pause even when he heard Snape speak with concern or what sounded like concern from the cold man.
–Where are you going?
Harry ran. As fast as he could. He met no one – thank Merlin! – and arrived at the large door to the hall. He opened it without hesitation and stepped out into the night. Breathing in the early evening air and trying to calm his heart.
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XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
.
Severus stood paralysed, not knowing what to do. But all his years as a Death Eater quickly shook him out of it. The door was still open and his student's footsteps were fading. His storage room was a mess, the mirror above the sinks destroyed and the cauldron completely dented. Worst of all was the scream Potter had let out that still rang in his ears. A cry of despair, rage and sadness. A soul-splitting scream even for him, a former Death Eater. What had happened in that bloody room? And where had Potter gone so quickly?
He was worried. For the first time in his life, he was worried about a Gryffindor. He had to go to Albus, ask him what he thought. He hurried out of the room and headed for the Headmaster's office. He didn't bother to knock. He knew Albus would be there.
–We have a problem.
Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, staring at him with a smile, his hands crossed over the paperwork. His blue eyes sparkled and Severus knew he knew. He sighed, it was demoralising.
–Lemon candy, Severus?
Lemon candy? Rose fudge? Mint chew? He was never done with those treats? He needed to grow up a bit.
Severus declined with a dismissive wave of his hand.
–We have a problem, Albus.
–You've already said that, Severus.
–Yes, and I'm repeating myself because you're not listening to me.
-Of course I'm listening to you. But I don't see what the problem is.
Severus stood for a moment. He didn't see what the problem was? He couldn't see what the problem was! Well, he knew what the problem was. They had a bomb on their hands.
–What was the problem Severus?
— Potter.
The old wizard frowned. Thank Merlin, Severus had managed to hold his attention. Now they had to find out what the other knew.
–What did Harry do?
–He's completely destroyed my storage room. What's wrong with him?
–He's lost his sponsor. He must be a bit … sad.
A bit sad? If the show he'd witnessed was the 'a bit sad' version, Severus didn't want to witness the 'just plain sad' one. It was unsettling to see his student in such a state.
–What are you going to do about it?
–Nothing, Severus.
–What do you mean nothing? You can't leave him like that.
–It's just a little stumble. He'll get over it. Anyway, I couldn't do anything because I'm leaving for the Ministry.
–Leaving? Just like that? When your protégé needs you?
–Harry doesn't need me. Ever since he found out about the prophecy, we've been a bit … cold.
–Who's going to look after the school?
Albus gave him a sharp look. He seemed to think about what to say, then finally the old bearded man sighed and straightened up.
–Me from a distance, but the school will be under your and Minerva's supervision. So if you find, Severus, that Harry has a problem I'll leave you to deal with it.
–Me?
–Yes, you. Now I must go.
The Headmaster stood up and after a short wave and nod, used the floo powder to disappear.
Severus had a problem. A big problem. A very big problem.
In conclusion, Dumbledore was putting him in charge of the school and Harry. But for now, the most important thing was the Survivor.
And this is the first chapter.
This is one of the first stories I read about this couple - being French - and I'm really happy to translate it for you today!