Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

22. Chapter 22: The Burdens We Bear

Rated T

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

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Chapter 22: The Burdens We Bear

Severus wasn't surprised that his sleep had been troubled. He was only surprised that he managed to get any sleep at all. A dark-haired, green-eyed boy occupied most of his dreams, and Severus awoke early in a bad mood. He was angry at everyone in the world and Albus Dumbledore was at the top of his list. He stomped around the house as he got ready for the day, downing the coffee and toast that comprised his breakfast without really tasting them, rushing through his grooming without really caring what he looked like after, and glaring at his wand as he strapped it to his forearm holster. He was glad to have his good wand back, of course, but he had a terrible feeling that he just might use it today in a fit of anger. Still, he couldn't just leave his wand behind. A wizard without his wand was practically naked. Although Severus knew other ways to protect himself besides magic, he still needed his wand. He sighed and tugged his sleeve over his holster and prayed that he would control himself today and not go off in a snit because Albus Dumbledore was simply being his cheerful, enigmatic, omnipotent, normal self.

He went back downstairs, snapped at the disgruntled owl that dropped off his Daily Prophet, threw the paper on the table in disgust after reading the headline, (a totally useless and ridiculous story on the candidates for the upcoming Ministry elections) and stormed off to the floo, snatching his cloak as he went. Early though it was, he needed to go find somewhere to vent his anger before he killed someone, (like a bearded old meddler). He had a training room down in the Hogwarts dungeons that would do nicely. His wand burned in his grip and he hoped to Merlin that Lupin had Harry, and not the muggles. He couldn't handle any more stress right now, as everything from the past month caught up to him with a vengeance, making a migraine pound behind his eyes.

With diabolical timing, just as he reached the sitting room, his fireplace flared green and a familiar old meddler's head appeared in the flames. Severus Snape growled under his breath and stood there, his cloak billowing in the rush of energy coming from the floo. He didn't bother greeting his unwelcome guest, and made a mental note to block the headmaster from his personal floo; permanently.

"Good morning, Severus!" Albus Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully as if there wasn't a thing wrong in the world. "Sleep well?"

"What sort of an asinine question is that?" Severus snapped, unwilling to even pretend politeness this morning. "Did I sleep well? What do you think?!"

"Yes, well, I suppose I deserved that," the Headmaster coughed self-consciously. "I would like to explain, if you'll let me."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the old man in the fireplace, trembling with the need to say something, do something; but he knew better than to let himself go. He would probably regret it. Instead, he took one deep breath and silently counted to ten, and steadied his trembling occlumency shields, before he spoke in a voice of ice.

"I cannot speak with you now, Dumbledore, unless you want to deal with me at my most belligerent. Wait for me to calm myself, and I will come find you. Is that understood?"

The old Headmaster sighed, looking sad and disappointed and chastised, but Severus felt nothing for the old man. He did not feel guilty for his own righteous fury, and he did not feel vindicated by the meddler's façade of guilt. No, he would talk to the old man later when he didn't feel inclined to combust in an uncontrollable volcano of dark magic.

"I understand completely, my boy," Albus Dumbledore replied quietly. "Come to my office whenever you are ready, but pray do not take long … I have an unfortunate situation on hand."

The Headmaster disappeared from the fireplace and the green flames winked out, leaving only the sluggish fire that had been burning since last night. Severus took a steadying breath and threw a handful of floo powder into the fire.

"Severus Snape's Quarters, Hogwarts!" he shouted as he ducked into the fireplace.

The world spun wildly and he was dumped into his cozy sitting room at Hogwarts. He stopped and glanced around the simple room with its cushioned chairs and abstract paintings. The shelves of books and the simple décor had been a shelter for him; a place to hide from the cruel world in a place all his own. He had been content here, and had even thought it a bit crowded, with all the books and potions cluttering his life. He had guarded his privacy so closely before a child simply turned his entire world on its head. This simple place had been his perfect haven for so long … Why did it seem so empty now? Why did he miss that messy-haired brat so blasted much? It wasn't fair. His whole damned life was so unfair.

Huffing at himself in annoyance, Severus marched out of his sitting room and out into the cool, dim corridor. Past the Potions Classroom, he faced a bare wall and muttered a password under his breath while pressing one hand on a slightly darker stone in the wall. A door appeared and he slipped inside, letting his wand fall into his hand and instinct take over as he blasted his training dummies with all of the fury and magic that he had built up over the past week and a half.

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Remus Lupin threw up bile as he appeared in front of the gates to Hogwarts. After his failed attempt to come yesterday, (he nearly splinched himself simply trying to apparate across the room) he knew he was pushing it today. He really ought to be in bed after the rough Full Moon a couple nights ago, but he doubted poor Harry was being given the opportunity to rest. His own father had always made certain he was up by the second day, or else, and Remus unconsciously still followed the man's orders. Lyall Lupin had been a harsh taskmaster, but Remus didn't really blame his father for not knowing how to properly care for a Werewolf. It wasn't all his fault.

Straightening up and forcing his knees to lock, the Werewolf shakily flicked his wand. "Evanesco," he rasped, and his shabby robes were clean again. That was one reason his robes were always in such disrepair, he mused. He used too many cleaning charms on them, and they were of cheap material. Even the Wizarding world bought most things from China, and they tended to be poorly made. Too much magic on bad material tended to wear it out, which was no problem if you had the money to buy new ones. But Remus sometimes went hungry when job-pickings were slim, so he had no money or time to waste shopping for clothes. But, as long as he was covered and clean, he really did not care what his clothes looked like.

Wobbling slightly on unsteady legs, Remus made his way across the grounds toward the castle. Halfway there, he was accosted by the slobbering boar hound that Hagrid currently called friend. He stopped to give Fang a pet and was rewarded with a slimy tongue and lots of drool. Great. He would have to use more cleaning charms and wear his clothes out even more.

"Alrigh' there, stranger?" Hagrid's voice boomed cheerfully from behind, and Remus sighed internally before he turned to greet the half-giant with a smile.

"Hello Hagrid," the Werewolf said with a smile. "How have you been?"

"Why as I live an' breathe!" the half-giant laughed, pulled Remus into a rib-crushing hug. "It's lil' Remus Lupin! 'Ow long 'as it been, eh? Yer lookin' a mite bit peaky. Las' Full Moon rough on ya?"

"A bit," Remus grimaced. "You're crushing me," he added.

"Oh!" Hagrid pulled back, attempting to smooth down Remus' rumpled robes and blushing to the tips of his ears. "I'm terrible sorry 'bout tha'. Don' know me own strength, sometimes. I di'n't 'urt yeh, did I?"

"I'm fine," Remus chuckled a little breathlessly. To be honest, his whole body flared with fresh pain, but he couldn't bear to tell Hagrid that. His old friend was too sensitive sometimes, and it wasn't anything Remus couldn't deal with. Besides, he deserved it anyway.

"So, didja come by ta see lil' 'Arry?" Hagrid asked, petting his slobbering dog.

"Sort of …" Remus faltered. "Have you … met him?"

"Sorta," Hagrid chuckled. "Poor lil' blighter nearly got slobbered ta death by Fang 'ere. Perfessor Snape's takin' good care o' the lad, tha's fer sure."

"I'm glad," Remus smiled, though his heart wasn't in it. "Do you know … if Professor Snape is here now?"

The huge man scratched his scruffy head and shrugged. "I dunno why 'ee wouldn't be," he answered innocently. "I guess 'ee comes an' goes as 'ee needs to. Allus sticks close ta 'Ogwarts in th'Summer, 's far as I know."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I suppose … I suppose I'll check the dungeons."

"Oh!" the half-giant exclaimed, his dark eyes lighting up happily. "Perfessor Dumbledore's in! I bet 'ee'd love ta see yeh, if'n yeh wanna go see 'im."

"Thank you again, Hagrid, maybe I will," Remus smiled tiredly and waved as he marched up the path to the castle's main doors. "I'll see you later, Hagrid."

"Allus a pleasure, Remus!" the huge fellow beamed. "Drop by th'cabin sometime an' we'll catch up over tea, a'right?"

Remus gave another smile and wave over his shoulder in acknowledgement, but he suddenly wondered if he would live long enough to take the half-giant groundskeeper up on his invitation. It was a strange feeling, knowing that the next few moments could very well be his last.

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Severus Snape finished demolishing the last of his conjured dummies and lowered his wand at last. He was well and truly worn out, finally. He mopped sweat from his forehead and slumped to the ground, trembling under the force of his emotions as they were released, thanks to his physical exhaustion. He wasn't a man who broke down easily, but the past month had been more than he had ever been forced t handle before. Even though the Ministry did not torture him when they jailed him this time around, simply fretting about the boy and everything he had gone through in just a couple of short weeks had made his stay there infinitely more stressful than he could ever remember it being. Before, he had welcomed the interrogations and the pain they brought, because he deserved it. He had welcomed the penance and punishment as something he had earned, something that would purify his dark soul. When he had been released, broken and ill almost to the point of death, Albus Dumbledore had taken him into his own home, nursed him back to health, and helped him overcome his dark despair. He owed the old Headmaster so much. It hurt so terribly to feel betrayed by him this way. Did Dumbledore really think he was exaggerating about Harry? It hardly made sense. Over the years, he had helped children in his House who came from abusive homes. Some, he had been able to help definitively, taking them from their abusive caretakers and placing them with loving family members who would protect and nurture them. But other children came from powerful families who did not take kindly to meddlers. He had to content himself with teaching those little ones how to care for themselves. He attempted to always be a listening ear for those who needed to talk … or sometimes a willing shoulder if they needed to cry. He had thought he handled those things with tact, (and distaste, if were honest with himself). But Harry had proved that his urge to care for the broken was instinctual. What was wrong with him?

Severus hardly realized that he was weeping. Great wracking sobs shook his thin body and he hunched over, pressing his potion-stained hands against his damp, hot face. Dumbledore had hurt him in a way he had rarely been hurt before. Not many people could be called his friends; true friends. Lily was the last one. How many nights had he spent in tears of hurt and despair over her final rejection all because of his stupid mouth? He should have taken the Marauders' torment in silence, the way his father taught him. Don't open your stupid mouth. He knew that rule. Why had he forgotten? Why did Lily choose that moment to leave him forever? Unconsciously, Severus reached up and pulled the chain from around his neck, wrapping his fingers around the flower-charm hanging there. He hadn't worn it in years, but when Harry fell into his life, he felt he had no choice but to pull out the necklaces in case the child needed to call him. It felt right, hanging around his neck again. As a boy, he hadn't realized how much of a security blanket it had been for him. Just holding it in his hand had always made him feel safer.

Lily had chosen the little charms, and had enchanted them as well. Severus had soaked them in a complex potion that sealed the enchantments and coded the charms to their own magic and blood so they could use them to let one another know when they needed to meet and talk. Nobody else would be able to use them, just in case the necklaces got lost or stolen. It was impressive spellwork, considering that they had only been thirteen years old and still in Second Year. Severus was glad that Lily's necklace had worked for Harry, because of course the boy still had his mother's blood and magic. Severus had actually had his doubts, but when his own flower vibrated on the night of the Full Moon, there was no doubt in Severus' mind that Harry was using the charm and calling for him. He wondered why Harry hadn't called for him before, but the only reason he could come up with was that the boy's abominable relatives had been leaving him alone.

Taking a deep breath, Severus stood up, tucking the necklace back under his collar. He was calmer now, his anger was spent, and he felt ready to face Albus Dumbledore. He wouldn't trust the old man again, but he hoped they could come to some sort of understanding, for Harry's sake.

The dungeon corridor was not empty when he stepped out, to his annoyance. The Werewolf was waiting there, leaning against the wall.

"Lupin," Severus muttered in greeting. How did the wolf know where I was?

"Snape," the Werewolf cracked a nervous smile. "I … tracked you here. But I couldn't see a door at first, so …"

"You never saw it," Severus interrupted with a growl. He brushed past the wolf, supremely irritated. He had counted on being alone so he could freshen up. "So, Albus has assigned me a guard-dog now?" he demanded.

"What?" Lupin sounded confused. "I haven't even seen Dumbledore yet …"

"Excuse me," Severus snapped as he reached his quarters. He slammed the door behind him, right in Lupin's face, but there were no protests from the corridor. Severus sighed and leaned against the door. If Dumbledore hadn't sent Lupin to annoy him, then the wolf must have something urgent to discuss. He shrugged off his curiosity and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and freshen his robes. Five minutes to himself. That was all he asked.

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Lupin tagged along as Severus made his way to Albus Dumbledore's office. The Potion Master glanced over at the Werewolf several times as they made their way out of the dungeons and up into the empty castle. With the children and staff all on Summer holiday, Hogwarts seemed somehow dead. Or asleep. Catching the wistful look on Lupin's face, Severus was sure that the Werewolf could feel it. Lupin seemed jumpy and nervous. Gryffindors were terrible at keeping secrets, honestly. Anybody with half-an-eye could tell that the Werewolf was struggling with something he wanted to say. Maybe he ought to help the poor fool along.

"So, did you visit the boy?" Severus demanded, turning abruptly to face his shadow.

Lupin jerked as if he had been struck and stopped walking, staring at him uneasily. Severus arched an eyebrow, silently sneering, I'm waiting. Lupin's mouth opened and shut, and the Werewolf frowned as he struggled with what to say. Or how much to say. Honestly.

Severus Snape sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. A migraine had been pounding at him since morning, and more annoyance wasn't helping. "Don't tell me you forgot," he snarked. "Honestly; Gryffindors. In one ear and out the other. I only asked you to do one thing, Lupin. I told you where he lived. You seemed eager to go see him. What, by Merlin, is the problem?"

"I have a lot of problems," Lupin replied quietly, his brown eyes swirling with gold. "But ... I saw Harry. He … isn't well. And I was in no condition to take him."

Severus seethed. "He isn't well?" he parroted mockingly. "Yet you left him there? What is wrong with you Gryffindors? Are Slytherins the only ones who understand the horror of child abuse?!"

Lupin flinched and lowered his eyes. "I came to talk to you about it," he said pleadingly. "Just … please don't kill me until after I've said my piece. Right?"

"I'm going to kill you right now if you don't stop your useless cringing and talk!" Severus barked. Honestly. Lupin's ridiculous idiocy was enough to drive anyone mad. How did he get into Gryffindor anyway if he was such a whining coward?

"I visited Harry, but my wolf went crazy," Lupin said in a rush. "I didn't understand why he was suddenly so eager to get out. I've never had to fight him like that before. You have no idea."

"Of course I do," Severus snapped, folding his arms. "The boy's a bloody Werewolf and your animal sides connected. Why in the world do you think I wanted your 'expertise' in the first place?"

Lupin trembled and looked on the verge of tears. "You don't understand what I'm trying to tell you," he whispered urgently. "I'm the Werewolf."

"I know you're a Werewolf, you useless, brainless …." Severus trailed off as the significance of the fearful Gryffindor's words hit him like a blasting curse to the chest. He literally staggered back and hit the corridor wall, staring in horror at Lupin as he hadn't since he was fifteen.

Severus Snape saw nothing but a monster. A monster he had privately sworn to tear apart for daring to infect Lily's son with the moon-curse before he even knew his name. A red haze descended over Severus' vision and his wand was in his hand before he even had time to think.

He screamed wordlessly, no exact curse in mind, but his wand was suddenly pointed at Remus Lupin and magic swirled up in response to his emotions of rage and horror and grief for the boy. His boy. The child was his. Not the wolf's. Not Lupin's. Harry needed to be protected and Severus had promised to do so. He may have failed the child's mother years ago, but he would die before he let Harry's attacker live another day if he had anything to say about it.

The Werewolf collapsed in the stone passage, writhing in agony and wrapping his arms around his face. A howling scream ripped from Lupin's throat and Severus wasn't even sure what he had done. His mind was a tangled hurricane of blood and death and darkness with no particular purpose to it all. Magic whipped around him and exploded out of his wand, lashing the Werewolf with greedy fury, its only intent to hurt, to cause pain, and end life. This beast had finally done what Severus knew he would do all those years ago. He had warned Dumbledore as a fifteen-year-old that nothing good came of coddling monsters and protecting mindless beasts. Now, Lupin had done the unthinkable. Harry was cursed for the rest of his life thanks to this monster. He needed to die for his crime. He needed to suffer. That was all Severus was thinking of as he poured raw, dark magic out of his body, out of his hand, through his wand, and into his victim. His prey.

He saw nothing beyond his red vision but the writhing Werewolf on the ground, heard nothing but the satisfying screams of Lupin, and felt nothing but the icy burn of dark magic ripping through his cells and inundating his body. He might have killed himself from such prolonged exposure to pure, destructive magic, if Madam Pomfrey had not been in Hogwarts that day.

She felt the dark disturbance in the castle and ran at once to investigate, her healer-instincts for danger overriding any other sense. Not even Dumbledore would have been fast enough. She arrived in the corridor and shouted in shock. She could hardly see the individuals in the hurricane of terrifying magic boiling and raging like a black fire, but she had felt his magical signature more than enough times to recognize Severus Snape. The screams from the storm were awful, but they were not Severus'. She wasted no time in bringing her formidable wand to bear. A wind-curse blew the two men apart and a swift sleeping charm knocked Severus out, and the plump medi-witch stood there, her horrified gaze jumping from the walls, blackened and bowed from the fury of Snape's rage, and Lupin, who lay crumpled and still on the ground, the focus of such destruction.

Albus Dumbledore arrived on the scene a few seconds later, winded and dreading the worst. He did not know exactly why every alarm in the castle wards had started screaming at him for dark magic overload and the imminent death of two individuals, but he arrived in the corridor outside the dungeons and saw the two unconscious men; Severus asleep, his body still glowing from the aftermath of his magic, and Remus unconscious and covered in raw magical burns. He also saw Madam Pomfrey standing there, trembling and horrified in the midst of it all, and he understood it all in a moment. The old man shuddered when he saw the horrible damage that one furious man had been capable of and suddenly was very, very glad that Severus was on Harry's side and not his enemy. And then he wondered why Lupin had been so stupid as to tell Snape about his mistake instead of the Headmaster.

He sighed and waved his wand, levitating the two men since Poppy seemed too stunned to do it. He hated having to run damage control.

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Morning in the middle of nowhere was cool and damp, but Harry loved it all the same. Even waking up early had been its own treat, just to be able to watch the sunrise flood their little valley with rosy light. After a quick breakfast of apples and water, the man in the cloak transformed into a dog and Harry didn't have to put the collar back on him. They crawled out of the hollow tree and continued freely on their journey through the sparse woods and meadows.

Snuffles trotted along beside him in the damp grass, keeping him company, entertaining him with silly antics, and confidently leading him on to their destination, wherever that was. The trees shone with dew, flowers bloomed in the grass, and the bugs here were just beautiful. The dragonflies sparkled like jewels and colorful butterflies were practically everywhere. Oh there were midges and gnats and the occasional wasp too, but Harry wasn't afraid of bugs. Some were annoying, but so long as you stayed out of their way, they left you alone, and he knew that. Rabbits bounded away from them in the grass, and they even saw a deer or two. It was so beautiful and peaceful that Harry felt like he had wandered into heaven.

"I like this place," Harry commented quietly, stopping to stare at a bluebird singing on a branch. Snuffles wagged his tail and nudged his hand before sitting and watching the bird as well. When the beautiful creature flew away, the dog got up and led Harry onwards. The game trail they followed was overgrown in most places, but Snuffles seemed able to find it even when Harry feared that they had wandered off the track and got lost. He still didn't understand why they were wandering through the English countryside to get to the special house when the Professor and the Headmaster had been able to get places instantly. Maybe animal wizards were different, Harry thought. Maybe their magic was that they could turn into animals and that was it. He certainly hadn't seen the man in the cloak use a wand or anything magical besides the cloak with huge pockets.

Suddenly, Snuffles stopped and his black form blurred strangely. Harry's heart flipped weirdly as he watched the dog shift into a man in broad daylight. Somehow it seemed more real, and more strange, to actually watch it happen in the sunshine. One second, Snuffles was standing by the tree, and in the next second, a man in a big black cloak was crouching there instead. The man in the cloak straightened and looked over at him. Harry saw dark hair, blue eyes that almost seemed to burn with intensity, and a scant beard. The man's face was thin, and looked somehow skeletal, half in gloom under his hood, and Harry took a nervous step back. No denying it: Snuffles was a scary guy.

"It's okay, Harry," the man said gently, and Harry felt his tense muscles relaxing. That was the voice of comfort and kindness; the voice that soothed his fears and told him stories about his dad. "We're almost to the spot where we'll take a portkey to the house, so I'll need to be human," Snuffles explained. "Have you ever used one of those before?"

Harry mutely shook his head.

"It'll feel weird, your first time, but it's a little better than apparating … er, have you ever apparated before?"

Harry squinted in thought before he nodded.

"You don't really say much, do you?" Snuffles smirked, good humour dancing in his blue eyes. "Oh well; doesn't matter. Just follow me and try to be quiet. If there's any talking to be done, you just play along with me. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry replied quietly. He shifted the heavy duffel bag on his shoulder and suddenly, Snuffles took it from him and slung the strap over his own shoulder.

"I should've taken this," the man muttered. "Making you carry it all over the place …"

"It's n-not heavy," Harry protested. He actually liked carrying it, even though it made his shoulders ache and his legs tired. It made him feel useful, and also it was nice to be allowed to keep something that more or less was his.

Snuffles gave him a look Harry couldn't decipher. "Hmm, well. I'll carry it for a little while, right? I should've carried it before, but I wasn't thinking."

Harry shrugged helplessly. It wasn't as if he could stop the man. Snuffles was way bigger than him, and seemed like he was probably a little taller than the Professor. Or maybe not. Harry couldn't remember his Professor too well anymore. Snuffles looked at him again before taking his hand and leading him on carefully. The game trail gave way to a much more obvious footpath lined with mossy stones. They walked on silently for several more paces before they stopped. Harry could hear chickens clucking, a dog yapping, and even a cow mooing not very far away. He even heard the faint sounds of human voices and looked up in confusion at the man. Snuffles just grinned and silently held out a bracelet. It was a delicate thing of silver metal and small green gems and Harry frowned before he reached out to take it, wondering why the man was giving him such a pretty (and girly) thing.

Two things happened at once. First, his hand suddenly burned as if he had just touched the hot stove, but he couldn't jerk his hand away, or even scream, because the instant his fingers closed on the bracelet, Snuffles said "Home" and the world flipped inside out. He was jerked from behind his stomach and thrown into a wild tornado before he was suddenly dumped out and he was able to breathe, and scream, again. Harry's fingers came loose from the bracelet and he tumbled away in sweet-smelling grass before he was even aware that he was crying loudly in pain and gripping his wrist to try and stop the fiery burn from spreading. Nothing existed except the pain and confusion and nausea. His stomach was going to empty itself in a minute.

Something wrapped around him suddenly and his world tilted dizzily. Harry screamed and struggled before he opened his eyes and realized that the Snuffles-man had picked him up and trying to talk to him, but Harry's ears were ringing. He couldn't understand anything the man was saying. The boy blinked and managed to get his wails down to soft whimpers. He was gripping his burning hand to his chest and shaking all over. It hurt so bad!

"P-Professor," Harry whimpered pathetically, tears spilling down his cheeks. He wanted his Professor to make this better because he didn't understand why he was in pain. He always would want his Professor, he realized. Why did you leave me? I need you!

"Harry?" the Snuffles-man's voice finally filtered through to his consciousness, sounding worried and scared. "Harry, what happened? What's wrong?"

"H-hand h-hurts," Harry whispered, closing his eyes and relaxing a little into the arms of the man who sounded so concerned. He was okay. He just needed to rest for a little until his stomach stopped flipping.

"Damn!" The man shouted suddenly, startling Harry. "I'm such an idiot! C-can you ever forgive me? I forgot about the silver. Can I …? Could I see your hand?"

Harry didn't understand everything the man said, but he obediently held out his hurt hand, shaking with pain. When he got a glimpse of it, he actually gasped at the same time as Snuffles. The palm of his hand and his fingers were blistered as if he had touched battery acid and the blisters were weeping blood. It looked like a nasty burn and Harry had no idea how that had happened. But the Snuffles-man burst into tears and cradled Harry close, almost suffocating him. The sobbing man kept apologizing and calling himself an idiot until Harry just wanted to start wailing again because his hand hurt and his body was sore and he was getting crushed in the man's arms and he just wanted to soak his throbbing hand in cold water and go to sleep for a little while.

Finally, the man stumbled to his feet, still holding Harry in his arms. The boy tensed at first, but he relaxed because it felt good to be carried and he was so tired. He shut his eyes and gulped at his tears, squeezing his hurt hand by the wrist because it would hurt too much to grab it anywhere else. After a few minutes, he felt a shadow over his face and he heard the click of a door opening. Harry opened his eyes and saw a ceiling made of rough logs and wooden shutters, like an old-fashioned cabin. He craned to look around, and saw a dim, dingy little house with a small stone fireplace, a table and chairs, and some doors leading off to different places in the house. Snuffles carried him around behind the central fireplace to a little room with a bed and set him down. The bed covers smelled dusty, but also like dried flowers and herbs. It wasn't a bad smell, but Harry sneezed twice.

"I tried to clean up," the Snuffles-man murmured. "I'm sorry it's so dusty. I haven't really lived here for the past seven years or so. Let me go get some dressing for that hand."

The man left and Harry was left alone in the small bedroom, clutching his hurt hand to his chest to keep it from getting bumped on something. There was a narrow window covered with nice white curtains above the bed, and greenish sunlight came through. He could see the shadows of trees outside as they waved in the wind and Harry smiled as he thought of living in a cabin in the woods for the rest of his life. That wouldn't be so bad, he figured. He looked around and was surprised to see a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, and a writing desk also crammed into the little space. Some toys and games were on the shelves, along with some books. Harry wondered whose room this was, originally.

Snuffles came back in, and his cloak was gone. He was dressed in a normal long-sleeved shirt and jeans, and he looked very thin and haggard. His thick black hair was cut crookedly and his scanty beard needed to be shaved better. His blue eyes looked so dark and sad that Harry was frightened. The man's face looked strangely familiar, and Harry felt his heart begin to race as something niggled the back of his mind. Was this the dangerous person Headmaster Dumbledore had warned him about? Harry shrank away from the frightening man and wondered if he was going to get hurt.

"I'm a-alright, really," Harry said feebly. "P-please don't be mad."

Snuffles looked up at him incredulously. "Mad?!" he repeated in a slightly hysterical tone. "I gave you silver poisoning! Why would I be mad?!" He plunked a box of things down on the floor by the bed and almost seemed to be stifling a sob.

Harry frowned and squirmed fearfully. He didn't understand if the man was saying he wasn't mad, or if he was saying that Harry was an idiot for not seeing that he was already mad. He trembled as the man sat beside him on the bed, and he helplessly burst into tears when the man took his wrist. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always punished him for being a crybaby, and this scary stranger who said he was a godfather would surely punish him too. Harry mumbled apologies and looked away from his burning, throbbing hand, gripped in the Snuffles-man's fist, certain that he wouldn't be strong enough to watch when the man decided to teach him a lesson for being such a baby. But to his surprise, he felt something cool and soothing washing the blood and blisters from the burns and he peeked over nervously. The man was carefully washing his hand with a damp rag. Finished, he took another rag out of his box and patted his hand dry. He tried to be gentle, but it still hurt horribly. Harry trembled and bit his lip in pain, but he refused to cry out. Snuffles was totally focused on his hand and didn't notice Harry's nervous expressions. The boy watched as the trembling man spread some ointment over his blistered hand and carefully wrapped white bandages around it.

His hand looked like a mummy's when Snuffles was done with it, and Harry smiled in sheer relief.

"You gave me a mitten," he quietly commented, raising his wrapped hand to gently pet his own cheek. The bandages were soft and smelled good, or maybe he was actually smelling the minty burn ointment. Whatever it was, he breathed in deeply and closed his eyes contentedly. His hand was still throbbing, but he'd had to deal with burns without ointment before. This was brilliant!

"Does it feel better now?" Snuffles asked nervously.

"Yes sir!" Harry opened his eyes and gratefully, shyly, smiled at the Snuffles-man. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Harry," the man said quietly, on the verge of tears again. "I practically lived with a Werewolf for half my life; you'd think I knew about silver burns by now."

Harry tilted his head, struggling to make sense of the man's mumbles. "The … the bracelet burned me?" he asked slowly. "That's weird."

"Silver is deadly to Werewolves," Snuffles explained heavily, bending over and packing the bandages and ointment back into the box. "The only way to kill a Werewolf is to cut its heart out with a silver knife, but if they just touch anything made of silver, it's poisonous. I'm so stupid; making a portkey out of a silver bracelet."

"Y-you didn't m-mean it," Harry pointed out shakily. That bit about cutting Werewolves' hearts out made him feel a little sick. He hoped this man wasn't really a guy that wanted to kill him. "It's okay. It doesn't even hurt anymore." Well, that wasn't really true. His hand still hurt quite a bit, but the fiery sensation had died down a little. All that he felt was a dull throbbing that matched the tempo of his heartbeat.

Snuffles patted his knee gently before he got up. "I'm gonna go out and grab your bag," he announced briskly. "I left it out there. Then we'll have us a mid-morning snack, alright?"

Harry just nodded. He was tired, and all the excitement just made him exhausted. He rolled over on the dusty-smelling bed and listened to the sounds of the woods outside. His sharp hearing caught birdsong, wind rustling through leaves, and the man's footsteps as he left the cabin and tramped through the grass. Feeling achy and exhausted, Harry let his eyes slide shut. By the time Snuffles returned with the duffel bag, the boy was sound asleep.

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Severus crawled out of the darkness and blinked up at the white ceiling of the Infirmary. It took several seconds for him to recognize his surroundings, but when he did, he frantically cast back through his memories for the reason he was here now. His whole body ached and thrummed with weird energy, but he felt as weak and exhausted as a newborn. He didn't think he could even move his jaw without a herculean effort. What in the world had happened? He couldn't for the life of him remember a single significant thing. The effort made his head ache.

"Hmm, awake then?" Poppy's familiar voice caused his eyes to track from the ceiling to her round face hovering over him, which was pinched with disapproval.

"Pop … py," Severus rasped. His jaw felt broken and he couldn't form the rest of his words. What happened to me? Why do I hurt so much? Why can't I remember? Is Harry alright? Wait, Severus frowned. Where had that last thought come from? He could vaguely remember a boy with messy hair and green eyes, but hadn't he been arrested by Aurors? He could remember hearing one of them saying 'stupefy'. His thoughts and memories swirled in his head without reason or sequence and he closed his eyes, feeling nauseous and dizzy.

Poppy was tipping a glass vial into his mouth and he swallowed the bitter brew obediently, though he hated being so weak that he couldn't even drink his own potion on his own. A bit of strength flooded into his dead limbs and he grunted softly in pain as needles stabbed him from head to toe.

"Can you remember anything?" Poppy demanded. She didn't sound happy at all. Severus grimaced and opened his eyes to look up at her. If he said yes, she would nag him until he admitted his stupidity and swore never to do anything so stupid again. If he said no, she would lecture him for the next hour, describing his idiocy in detail and wondering aloud why she put up with him at all. Honestly, he sometimes wished he was still a child so she would be nicer to him. Sure, he did far more stupid things as an adult than he did as a boy, but still, she ought to be nicer to her patients. It was really off-putting when she lectured him about experimenting with volatile ingredients without supervision like he was still a second year.

"I'll take that as a no," Poppy suddenly announced, interpreting his grimace and his silence as an answer.

"Poppy …" Severus sighed, feeling a little stronger, but still too tired to fight.

"You tried to kill Remus Lupin, Severus. Any idea what triggered that?"

Severus blinked in shock. He what? After several seconds, he raised his eyes to hers. Why did she look so worried? "Is that why I feel like a discarded chew toy?" he rasped, attempting to sound flippant, but secretly worried. Why couldn't he remember? Surely if he and Lupin got into a fight, he'd at least remember what led up to it.

"Lupin didn't touch you," Poppy sighed, checking his forehead with the back of her hand. "You nearly killed yourself with your own magic. What made you lose control like that? Can you truly not remember?"

Severus felt a chill invade his blood at her words. Once before, he had become so enraged that he lost all control of his magic and nearly killed himself with the discharge. If Albus hadn't caught him in time … Actually, he couldn't remember what had led to that one either.

"What's the date?" Severus demanded, hating how weak and raspy his voice sounded.

Poppy looked alarmed for several seconds before she reverted back to her professional demeanor. "It is June 17th, 1989. The time is 4:25 in the afternoon. You've been asleep since this morning."

Severus closed his eyes, picturing his calendar in his mind's eye. He could remember checking off a day for potion brewing … he could recall talking to Dumbledore about something that upset him … he could just see the inside of a plain Ministry jail-cell and a familiar wizard in shabby robes smiling crookedly at him as he asked if he could sit.

He opened his eyes, feeling dizzy. "My mind's a tangle," he whispered, feeling cold as he admitted it. "What did I do?"

"I've never seen so much destructive magic," Poppy clucked. "You're lucky Hogwarts has the rest of the Summer to fix the damage or the children would be asking some awkward questions."

"How bad?" the Potions-Master demanded in alarm. Did he bring down Gryffindor tower?

"You completely warped the passage just outside the dungeons and damaged the moving staircase," the medi-witch replied. "The spot reeks of dark magic."

Severus felt his stomach turn unpleasantly. Thank Merlin there were no students here now. He might have hurt, or killed someone. Speaking of … "I didn't … did I …?" Severus whispered, his heart racing with fear. He never liked Lupin, sure, but he didn't hate the Werewolf the way he hated the rest of the Marauders. For a friend of Potter and Black, Lupin was decent most of the time. He didn't kill the man, did he? "Is Lupin alright?"

"He'll live," Poppy grumbled, fluffing his pillow and twitching her wand to get his vitals. "But you nearly did him in. He'll be sleeping for at least a week if I have anything to say about it. I wish you could remember why you got so upset. Did he call you names or threaten to hex your hair red?"

"We aren't children anymore, Poppy, and Lupin never was like that," Severus growled behind gritted teeth. "I don't know why we fought, dammit! However, if I do remember you may have to protect him from a second murder attempt for all I know!"

"Calm down, Severus, your temper isn't helping anyone," Poppy scolded. She tucked the blankets around him and gave him another potion. He recognized the flowery scent and taste of a calming draught and he gave her a dirty look before he slipped back into oblivion. How dare she use his distraction to slip him that potion! But then, she was a Slytherin, so he ought to have expected it, he supposed.

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Sirius sat and watched his godson sleeping as the sun set. Harry hadn't woken since he fell asleep this morning and Sirius was getting worried. The boy was having troubled dreams, but usually, a soothing brush of his hand across the child's forehead eased him back into peaceful slumber. Harry's face was flushed and warm; too warm. Sirius cursed under his breath and pressed his fist to his mouth nervously. He never anticipated this. How was he supposed to know what was normal for a Werewolf and what was something to get worried about?

Sirius couldn't remember if Remus ever caught simple colds; not really. He knew ol' Moony was in the Infirmary more often than not, but those were just complications from being a Werewolf, right? Remus had always been a bit frail and weak, but Sirius had always assumed it was because he was tired and in pain. For a few days out of every month, Remus' hormones were balanced and he felt good, and he seemed so strong and carefree and happy. But as Sirius thought back, he realized that Remus had always been ill. Wizards were not meant to carry the curse of the moon. Who knew how it had all started, but he had only ever known one Werewolf personally and he was always sickly. He had no idea how to treat a sick kid. He wished that he could just go and kidnap Madam Pomfrey or something, but he had no idea where she went during the summer.

Sirius bit back a frustrated sob and reached out to his godson. He gently smoothed a frown off Harry's forehead, gently rubbing his thumb over the boy's eyebrows. The child was beautiful; a combination of the best parts of James and Lily, though for the life of him he couldn't understand where the boy got his jet-black hair from. James' hair was brown, while Lily's was red. Oh well. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. He loved Harry no matter what he looked like.

Sirius got up and stretched, deciding that he ought to make some soup or something, so when Harry woke, he could get some nourishment and maybe get better quicker. He could only hope that Harry would just get well on his own, because he certainly had no idea what to do if the boy got worse.

He puttered around helplessly, throwing clumsily chopped ingredients into a pot of water and hanging it over the fire. He was a hopeless cook, and while he was worried and distracted, he couldn't be relied on to make anything good. When the carrots tasted 'done enough' he pulled the weird soup off the fire and stared at it. The stuff didn't look appetizing, but it was the best he could do. Harry shouted something in the bedroom and Sirius dashed towards the sound, knocking the pot onto the floor as he did so. Groaning in annoyance, he ignored it and went to his godson.

Harry was sitting up, shaking and frightened. His face was flushed and his green eyes were too bright. "Professor?" Harry whispered, looking up as he entered the room.

"Hush, it's okay," Sirius murmured a little frantically, gently easing the boy back onto his pillow and smoothing his sweaty hair off his forehead. "You were dreaming, that's all. You're okay."

"'R you … gonna kill me?" Harry whispered suddenly, his face looking ghostly white in the gloom and his eyes looking glassy and strange. "Headmaster said you'd kill me," the boy went on in that creepily calm voice. "Said t'be careful and tell if somebody was watching me …"

"What?" Sirius choked. He fell on his knees beside the bed, wondering if Harry was hallucinating or something. "I'm your godfather, Harry! I'd never kill you! Don't you remember me? Your uncle Padfoot?"

"N-no … You're S-Sirius … Black," Harry slurred, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to stay awake. "That … that's who you are, right?"

"Y-yes, but you don't understand!" Sirius almost wailed. "I wasn't even supposed to be in prison at all! I'm innocent! I'd never hurt you, Harry, you've got to believe me!"

The child opened his mouth as if to say something, but he sighed and his eyes fluttered shut. Soon, his breathing evened out and he was asleep again. Sirius buried his hands in his hair and sobbed helplessly.

After some time, he calmed down. But he still didn't know what to do. Harry was delirious and feverish, yet somehow his fever had granted him some clarity. He had to hope that the boy would not get hysterical when he woke again, and Sirius suddenly realized that he was alone. He needed to care for a sick child without help or guidance. He got abruptly to his feet and decided to inventory the potions cabinet. Hopefully some of the potions in there wouldn't be expired. Otherwise, he might be forced to attempt some potions-brewing of his own. Considering that he had barely passed his OWL in Potions and only just scraped by in his required NEWT for Auror training, he didn't have much hope that he would do a good job.

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Severus was discharged from the Infirmary twenty-four hours after he had been admitted, only because he started his routine of griping and escape attempts. Poppy let him go, but warned him to keep from using any magic for the next week or so. Severus accepted her orders without complaint, since he knew that he could just go home and take a Magical Core Replenisher to cut his recovery time down by half, plus get rid of the aching exhaustion that permeated his body.

But before he left, he stopped by Remus Lupin's bed. Severus actually winced at the sight of the sleeping Werewolf. He looked awful. Most of his body was bandaged, and the spots that were free looked as if he had taken the brunt of a Fiendfyre. His head was mostly fine, but his arms were so heavily bandaged that Severus guessed that Lupin had attempted to protect himself with his arms. He slowly sat down in a chair and stared at the man in the bed, hardly able to believe that he had done such damage. Why couldn't he remember? His head ached when he tried. But Severus didn't even want to keep trying. He was just too tired to even care why he had gotten so angry in the first place. He wanted Lupin to wake up. He never wanted to kill the Werewolf, no matter what he'd done. He just wasn't a cold-blooded killer. He never had been.

Severus looked up as the Headmaster swept into the Infirmary and came toward them. The old man's dark purple robes were decorated with swirling silver stars and moons, and Severus frowned. You could always tell what sort of mood Albus Dumbledore was in by his wardrobe. Bright colours meant he was feeling cheerful and jolly. Darker colours meant he was serious … or worried.

"I'm sorry," Severus said quietly, shoving his fists between his knees and hunching his shoulders. He had not felt so overwhelmed with shame in years.

Dumbledore silently squeezed his shoulder and conjured a squashy purple chair to sit in. For several minutes, they both simply stared at Lupin, sleeping soundly in his hospital bed. His bandaged chest moved evenly as he breathed and his face was tilted slightly toward them. The red scars on his white skin seemed too livid and his lips looked almost blue. A few burns shone under medicinal ointments on his neck and left cheek, only to disappear under the white bandages that swathed his upper body.

"I wish I could remember," Severus whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "I never liked Lupin … but I never wanted to kill him."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Severus," Albus said softly. "Remus will live, and you will have learned a valuable lesson in self-control, yes? It shouldn't happen again." The old man suddenly chuckled. "I would hate for you to do something like this again, Severus. You may not survive next time. Not many people can live through such an inundation of pure magic, especially the dark magic you channel naturally."

"So you're saying you're impressed," Severus muttered drily.

"I am," Albus Dumbledore smiled. "But I would never recommend you do such a thing again."

Severus twisted in his chair and stared hard at the old man. "Tell me what happened," he demanded. "I can't … I can't stand not being able to remember! What if it happens again because I cannot recall what I did wrong in the first place?"

"I wasn't there," Albus replied gently. "But perhaps it is for the best that you do not remember, Severus. All you ought to remember is that you must not let yourself lose control of your magic again. Hogwarts is rather upset at the moment, but do not fear; I shall pacify her in time. You won't be sacked today … or ever, if I have anything to say about it."

Severus felt the tension fall out of his back and he slumped forward. Had he been afraid of losing his position here? Perhaps unconsciously he was. Although it hadn't crossed his mind that he could be fired for this atrocious lack of control, he was glad Dumbledore was keeping him on. He simply hated feeling this helpless and ignorant. Rubbing his aching temples, Severus rested his elbows on his knees.

"Severus," Albus said quietly. "What is the last thing you remember?"

The Potions Master sighed and shut his eyes, searching back through his jumbled memory. "Being angry with you," Severus confessed. "You left me at the Ministry. You didn't even try to get me out. And you took Harry back to those …" Severus jerked upright and stood, glaring at the old man. "You didn't listen to me!" he accused. "You thought I was exaggerating, or mistaken. Did you even ask Harry? Did you even stop and wonder why he was so small and frail? I don't know half of what those muggles did to him, but I know damage when I see it! Why, Albus? Why?"

"I cannot expect you to understand …" Dumbledore said carefully.

"Don't give me excuses," Severus snarled, but too tired to be really angry. He just felt hurt. "Give me answers," he demanded. "I'm too tired to play your word games. Just tell me why. Give me one good reason to leave Harry there with those monsters."

Albus Dumbledore stared at Severus for several long moments, searching the younger man's face. Severus sighed in exasperation and sat back down. His body was already trembling from over-exertion and he spotted Poppy watching them with disapproval in her face. The medi-witch marched over and glared down at Albus Dumbledore.

"You sent Harry back to those muggles?" she demanded, her eyes snapping with anger. "Didn't you read the reports I sent you? His medical record?! That child has been abused since the day you left him there, and for you to just go and dump him back in that doorstep is nothing short of monstrous! What is wrong with you?"

"Please, both of you," the old Headmaster sighed, putting up his hands to placate their tempers. "I apologize for my blindness, but do not think I am a monster. There is more at stake here than one child, and I must take everything into consideration. You must try to understand; I never meant for Harry to suffer. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was only trying to protect him from … well, from our world."

"It is his world too, Albus," Severus Snape said quietly. He felt sick at heart, but he couldn't muster the energy to shout and remonstrate. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Whatever you thought, whatever your calculations, you were wrong. Admit that, and go get Harry out of there … Unless you simply don't care."

"I beg your pardon?" Albus asked, his voice suddenly sounding hurt. "What are you implying, Severus? Do you truly think I do not care? Do you truly think me so heartless?"

"Yes," Severus replied frankly, dragging his eyes open so he could glare at the old man. "You don't care for children all that much. If you did, you would have taken Harry in yourself. You are his magical guardian after all, are you not?"

"Severus …" Albus whispered, tears sparkling in his blue eyes.

The Potions Master went on mercilessly, glaring into Albus Dumbledore's eyes to drive home the seriousness of his words. "You abandoned that boy. You gave yourself excuses, reasons, but it all comes down to your own selfishness. You didn't want the responsibility of caring for a child, never mind that every one of your staff here at Hogwarts would have gladly helped you over the years. Never mind that, given time and nagging, even I could have been called upon to babysit or brew child remedies or teach him his ABC's. You are a leader, a general, a cunning warrior … but you are no father, nor a grandfather. You simply do not like children, despite how good you are at acting as if you do. You have no idea how to handle them, no idea how to deal with them, and the thought of raising one frightens you. So you tell us that it was necessary to put the child with those monsters, that Harry must endure what he doesn't like, that it really isn't so bad … but you have no one to blame but yourself for the abuse he has suffered."

Severus got to his feet suddenly and swayed where he stood. Poppy took his arm, but he shook her off impatiently, needing to finish what he had to say and go to his quarters to down a pepper-up potion or something before he simply collapsed.

"Harry doesn't belong with family, if they will do nothing but hate him," Severus spat, his fiery temper coming back as he thought of the dark-haired child and his innocent smile, the bruises on his backside, and his fear of the simplest things. He thought of his own fierce, foolish promises in the dead of night to care for the boy, to claim him and protect him. Harry belonged with him, Severus thought. However irrational it was, he knew that nobody else cared enough to take the child willingly. He would not fight Albus Dumbledore, but he was a Slytherin and they did not fight fairly. Shame worked wonderfully on Gryffindors, so he piled it on.

"The boy belongs where he is safe and cared for," Severus pointed out. "Harry needs to know that he is accepted and cherished. That is more important than anything, Albus. You told me those very words time and time again, and although I shrugged you off, scoffed at your idealism, I know it to be true. Harry is a Werewolf now, and he needs extra care and understanding. To turn our backs on him now condemns him to the darkness. You abandoned Tom Riddle. You neglected me. I will not allow you to betray Harry. I refuse to let that boy fall and I don't care what you think to the contrary."

Staggering with exhaustion, Severus Snape turned and arched out of the infirmary. Poppy was too stunned by his speech to stop him, and Albus Dumbledore was staring without speaking at the blank wall above Remus Lupin's bed, also stunned and frightened by the grim portrait his Potions Master had painted of him. He silently stood, vanished his chair, and followed Snape out of the Infirmary.

Severus turned when he heard the Headmaster following him. He sighed and kept walking, knowing that the meddling old man would catch up eventually. Severus was almost to the staircase when Dumbledore indeed caught up.

"Severus, my boy …" the old man murmured, hardly winded, though Severus was feeling exhausted.

"No child deserves to be treated like that," the Potions Master whispered, unsure of who he was talking to. He stared at the wall, at his own white hand pressed against the stones, and refused to look at the Headmaster standing beside him. "Potter or not, he doesn't deserve to be beaten for accidental magic, or starved as punishment, or forced to take cold baths because he'll 'waste' hot water. It isn't right, Albus. Surely you can understand that?"

"Harry told you all that?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Severus nodded. He lurched away from the wall and continued his limp toward the dungeons. His bones ached and he wanted to lie down with a cup of tea, and maybe a shot of firewhiskey. More than that, he was overwhelmed with an irrational urge to go home and find a dark-haired boy in his bed. He wanted to curl around the child and protect him from bad dreams and a big bad wolf, and feel the comfort of little arms around him and a small heart beating against his side as he fell asleep. Tears burned his eyes and he knew he didn't have the strength to go to Harry now. The boy was condemned to another day with the muggle monsters because Severus was too weak. The Potions Master shook his head at himself and began to descend the staircase.

"Severus, I will admit that much of what you said caught me by surprise," Albus Dumbledore said, his tone gentle and reasonable. But Severus' proverbial hackles went up. He knew that tone. It was the tone he took with unruly, disrespectful children who didn't know what they were talking about. Severus' heart sank. He really hadn't gotten through the old fool. He probably never would.

"But I'm not certain where you got some of your ideas, my boy," the Headmaster went on, his tone calm and regretful. "I do love children. I would not be Headmaster of a school if I did not have at least some affection for them don't you think?"

"Phineas Black didn't care for children at all, and yet he was Headmaster for years," Severus pointed out drily, glancing over at Dumbledore. "His goals were to indoctrinate children and so influence the next magical generation. Who is to say your aims are any different?" he put up a hand to stop the indignant Headmaster from interrupting. "I'm not saying it is so very wrong to want to influence children for what you believe is the greater good, but I am saying that it is possible to teach children while not liking them much. I am the perfect example of this, am I not?"

"Severus, there is a world of difference, not to mention a hundred years of age, between you and I," Albus said patiently. "You are still wounded by your past. You possess an explosive temper, and you often jump to conclusions. Can you not understand why I was wary to believe all of your claims at first?"

"I never know when you actually believe me or when you are only acting as if you are," Severus threw back bitterly. "You don't understand how much it hurts, Albus. I trusted you. You betrayed me. End of story."

"I did not betray you, my boy, never;" the old man whispered, placing a gentle hand on Severus' arm. "Nor have I betrayed Harry. You must trust me on this. The boy will be fine, and you will see him once a month, if not more often, I assure you. But you are tired, and you need to rest now. We can talk more about this later."

Severus shook Dumbledore off his arm and fought the angry tears that burned his eyes. But they spilled down his cheeks anyway. He blamed his exhaustion, since he hadn't cried in front of Dumbledore since that night. "I tried to be civil," Severus hissed through his tears, refusing to look at the Headmaster. "I need you as an ally, you old fool! But if you will not heed me, you will have me as an enemy." He tore himself away from the old man and ignored the aching pain throughout his exhausted body, almost running to the safety of the dungeons. He didn't know if it was the fault of his aching head, but he could hardly believe he had done something so stupid as to openly declare Albus Dumbledore his enemy. That was almost as suicidal as openly betraying He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have been back in the War. But he couldn't think straight. All he heard was that the reasonable old man was attempting to persuade him that Harry needed to be abused for some strange reason, and it was so very wrong that he had no idea how to fight back. Surely Albus didn't really believe that!

He had thought his observations on the old Headmaster had been pretty accurate. Albus didn't really interact with the students much, and when he did, he was almost comically jolly and so over-the-top friendly and grandfatherly that Severus had seen right through the old man's tactics as a jaded twelve-year-old. Albus Dumbledore didn't like children. It was obvious. He attempted to get along with them, but he also attempted to come into contact with them as little as possible. He was a Headmaster of a school, not a teacher, and whether he truly cared about children or not had very little bearing on how he ran Hogwarts. He relied on his teachers to do the interacting and disciplining and he took reports and gave advice, but he didn't like dealing directly with the students. Severus wondered how he had never seen it before. Now that he did, he just felt sick. Dumbledore should have taken Harry in, but instead he came up with ridiculous theories of blood wards and family bonds so he wouldn't be saddled with a near-infant. It was despicable, and it was also desperately sad, Severus thought, that of the two of them, it would be the former Death Eater and self-avowed child hater who would demand justice. It would be the evil greasy git who offered to take the orphan into his own home, disrupt his whole life … just to save the boy from a troubled home. He had never attempted to save another child like this. What was wrong with him?

Severus suddenly came to a breathless stop. The corridor that led to the dungeons had been warped. It almost looked like the walls had melted and bowed away in a bubble shape. Black stains on the stones and the twisted torch sconces testified to the destructive power of dark magic. Severus felt so sick at the sight, at the knowledge that he was responsible for this, that he fell on his hands and knees and retched. He was so utterly useless, he snarled at himself. First he abandoned Harry and screwed everything up with regard to that boy, and now he almost killed the one man who could help Harry adjust to his curse and also left this destruction behind. Who was he fooling? Severus Snape was the worst person on the planet to raise a child, second to Albus Dumbledore who didn't even want to. The sight of the warped corridor and the damage he had inflicted on the very walls of Hogwarts made him sick. If this was what he could do when he lost control, he didn't know why in the world he was still thinking he could raise Harry bloody Potter. He was a fool. Lily had been so right all those years ago. He should just stay in the dark where he belonged.

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Well, here we are: a lot happened in this chapter. Do tell me what you think!

I know the plot seems to be moving fairly slowly, but I guess that is just my style. I prefer the small, angsty scenes to the big reveals and stuff. That is to say, I do enjoy writing those scenes, like this chapter where Remus and Severus finally have their confrontation and Dumbledore gets a talking to even if it didn't really work (the stubborn idiot). Answers will start pouring out thick and fast now, and the plot will thicken even further.

You know, although I said earlier that I don't necessarily like 'evil Dumbledore', this story may end up sending the barmy old coot in that direction; with all the best intentions, of course. So I guess I'm writing evil Dumbledore, but not necessarily so, because he really has the best intentions and likes to play god and thinks he knows what's best for the world and thinks people really should be given chances when they probably ought to be smacked upside the head instead. I know some people are divided about whether Dumbledore deserves to be bashed or not, but whether or not he was simply a misguided general, an omnipotent plot devise, or a truly manipulative old bastard in Rowlings' world, this is my story and I'm letting it tell itself. Besides, there's no Voldy around yet to be the antagonist, so Dumble's a great villain in place of.

Another note: I'm thinking of finishing this story before the Hogwarts years and starting a sequel about this world's Harry once he turns eleven and goes to Hogwarts. Sound good? Let me know what you think. In either case, this story is far from finished. I would hazard that we may be halfway through it now and who knows how many plot bunnies will jump in my path before then!