Disclaimer: Nothing you see here belongs to me, except magical sight, which they'll talk about in a few instances. Just seeing magic, that's all.
From GoddessofWombats:
CHALLENGE!!: Here's a very exciting challenge for all you writers here. Listen to the song "Take It All Away" by Puddle of Mud (I know for a fact you can find it on Limewire) and write a songfic using its lyrics. You may write it in any style you choose, but it MUST be using that song, with a Harry/Severus pairing. Email all resulting fics to Cheyseri@aol.com, and they will be posted on my website, just for fun. Can be NC-17, can be lower, I don't care. Thanks!!! (I'd do all this myself, but I love tweaking your genius instead!)
~
"Severus." Albus's voice was grave, and Severus put aside his teacup to listen earnestly. The Headmaster only used that particular tone when something was exceptionally important. "I'm worried about young Mr. Potter." He held a hand before Severus, forgetting himself slightly, could make an acidic comment. "You know the wards placed at the Dursley's are designed to protect against Death Eater attacks, but there is also another ward that glows, to magical sight, when Harry is within. As long as he is alive and well, that ward should be bright. When he is gone, it should be completely dark." Albus heaved a weary sigh, sipping once more at the fragrant tea in the cup in one hand. His other rested delicately on one knee, as he and Severus sat in armchairs in front of the fireplace. Despite the summer's heat, the castle was a cool, drafty place, and Albus' aging bones disliked the cold. "It is neither dark nor bright. It merely gives off a gentle luminescence, and I fear that something is wrong. I need you to go check up on him, Severus." Severus snorted derisively.
"Why not ask Minerva? Potter's under her jurisdiction, after all."
"Severus," the Headmaster's voice was slightly reproving, "you know very well why not. While you aren't doing a great deal of work this summer, the other Professors are quite busy."
"Well, *some* people aren't waiting for their Dark Mark to call them." He said nastily. Albus merely looked at him. Sev grunted. "I know, I know. I'm going." He pushed himself out of the depths of the armchair, and stormed childishly out of the office. Once outside, he paused, thinking quickly, and made a sour face as he realized he should probably dress in Muggle clothes to avoid frightening Potter's precious Muggle relatives.
A heavier sigh emitted from his hawkish nose, and he reluctantly descended all five million staircases to reach his lovely dungeon rooms. Contrary to the rumored stereotype, he did *not* live in a dark, slimy corner of the dungeons, with no windows and lichen growing on the damp walls. Nor were any manacles to be found in any corner, and severed heads of former students hanging on meathooks from the ceiling were distinctly absent. His sitting room was softly lit with spelled crystals in torch sconces, a fire burned in a lofty fireplace, dispelling the slight chill the stone still held. As he passed the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking a place where the grounds dipped into a small valley of sorts (and shielded from students' view by special wards), he drew the curtains to block out the blinding red light of the setting sun. He padded, soft soled shoes shushing gently against the deep green carpet, past the rather abused-looking blue couches and chairs and into his bedroom. Here, the carpet was softer, and a rich cream in color, nicely contrasting with the dark woods of his bed, draped in rich, wine-red silk sheets and black blankets. He crossed the room to the large wardrobe set into the wall.
*Really,* he reflected as he donned black slacks, a white collared shirt, and a tight black sweater, *I can't imagine *why* anyone would pass up these rooms *merely* because they're in the dungeons. Honestly.* He reflected a moment more as he passed through a semi-secret corridor that led to the edge of Hogwarts' wards, absently tucking his wand up a sleeve. *Oh well. All the better for me.* He Apparated away to Privet Drive.
~
Severus stared, appalled, as a pink whale in a bowtie opened the door and stood, obviously assessing him. He raised an elegant eyebrow at the young, greasy whale, his blond hair glued to his head and his eyes piggishly small, obscured by enormous cheeks. The clod looked him insultingly up and down.
"What do you want?" he demanded, clearly impatient. Severus was slightly taken aback. Potter had excellent manners (when he wasn't angry), always said his pleases and thank yous and sirs and ma'ams. This must obviously be his cousin, and frankly, Severus saw no resemblance, all to Potter's credit. He was momentarily thankful that it was Potter who was Talented, and not this blockhead.
"I'm here to see Harry Potter." He said gravely, not ready yet to insult Potter's family. He was saving his venom for the boy himself. However, the whale-cousin's reaction startled him considerably. The boy shook the house as he ran away, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Mummy!! Mummy! Someone's here to see the FREAK!" he wailed, clearly terrified. Severus smiled a little, inviting himself in and closing the door. Never before had he sent someone screaming off just by virtue of his presence, but he quite enjoyed it.
"What are you doing in my house?!" The barrel of a gun was shoved into Severus's face, and at the other end, another, larger, older, pinker, greasier whale in a bowtie stood, lower lip trembling in fear. A long, graceful finger gently pushed the muzzle of the gun towards the floor, and Severus repeated himself.
"I'm here to see Harry Potter." The man's eyes went wide and he nearly dropped his rifle.
"What do you want with him? Are you here to take him away?" the man looked hopeful. "He's been nothing but a burden upon our shoulders, Petunia and I took him in as a baby, fed him and clothed him, had nothing in mind but his own good," here the man began to pinken, sweat, and look nervous. "We should have sent him to an orphanage, but we kept him here out of the goodness of our hearts! But would you know it from the way he treats.." Severus made an abortive gesture, and the man's words cut off.
"Doubtless he is an ungrateful brat. Where is he?" he said smoothly. The uncle smirked and gestured to a small door underneath the stairs, thrice padlocked. "Open it, please." The odious uncle complied, more than willing to get the disgusting, leeching freak out of his house, even if it mean he had to allow another freak to order him around. The padlocks clicked open one by one, and the door fell open.
Severus gagged and turned away as the odor of rotting flesh overpowered him. Out of the tiny cupboard fell a dull wire cage, an owl skeleton with the barest remains of flesh and feathers within. The uncle kicked the cage with an oversized shoe.
"Bloody bird." He muttered. "Knew it'd be trouble." He cursed as he picked the cage up with two fingers and took outside to the trash.. Severus ignored him and peered into the depths of the closet. In the gloom, a dark lump perched uncomfortably on the tiny cot next to a large trunk…a trunk with a Gryffindor banner painted on it. That must be Potter's trunk, he realized, but where, then, was Potter himself.
"Let…me…out." A tiny, hoarse voice whispered, and he finally detected the wheezing, whistling breaths emanating from the black lump next to the trunk.
"Potter?" he asked skeptically. Surely Albus would never allow his treasured *Harry* to be locked in a closet all summer. The black lump attempted to shift, but instead toppled forward to land at Severus's feet. Blinking owlishly in the sudden light, a glasses-less Harry blinked cloudy green eyes up at his Professor.
"Please tell me I didn't just imagine Professor Snape's voice." He croaked. Severus frowned and crouched down next to him.
"You did not." He failed to notice the disgusting uncle scurry away to lock himself, Petunia and Dudley in the den. "I am here. Can you stand?" Harry gave a coarse laugh, each breath rasping until he was consumed by a hacking cough.
"I've been in that tiny closet all summer, Professor. I can barely see, because Dudley broke my glasses, and I've so much dust in my eyes. And I think something is…wrong with my lungs." Severus could only silently agree as he listened to Potter's every breath whistle its way in and out of his chest. "Add to that I've had nothing to eat as well, and…no. I cannot walk." Severus stared at him for a moment.
"You've had nothing to eat for two months?" he asked sharply. Potter shook his head carefully, closing his eyes as a beam of light made its way past his Professor's shadow to pierce his unaccustomed eyes.
"I've only been let out to relieve myself, and shower once a week." He replied, and lapsed into more coughing. Severus calmly reached into the cupboard and pulled out the trunk and broom he found there, and picked Harry up in his other arm. The boy was astonishingly light. Severus had never lifted anyone who had been starved, and he didn't understand how Potter could feel more air than substance. The young man relaxed slightly, cradled in a surprisingly muscular arm, and Severus casually kicked open the solid door and stepped outside, exiting the wards, then Apparated away.
~
Harry was asleep by the time Severus reached the end of the tunnel to his rooms, and laid the trunk and broom down carefully. He shifted Potter so he was held in both arms, and took him to Madam Pomfrey's own rooms just three portraits away. He knew, from personal experience, that she always kept a spare room equipped as a mini-infirmary for him. Voldemort was rough on his followers, especially the more intelligent ones, he didn't want any upstarts. Many a time, Severus had limped home, smeared with blood and wincing in pain. After all, it was impractical for him to climb twelve staircases while he bled to death from curse-inflicted wounds. He muttered the password to the snake carved into the dungeon wall, and Poppy was there in a moment, instantly assessing his weightless burden.
"Oh dear." She said absently as she lifted the Gryffindor out of his arms and took him to the spare room. "Severus, what's wrong with him?" She asked as she felt his lack of weight. He followed, internally marveling that she had ever managed to be placed in Slytherin. It did pose a certain irony, and Poppy certainly was manipulative enough when the mood struck her. She did manage to keep Severus confined to bed when he had injuries, which was a rare ability.
"He's been locked in a cupboard for the past two months. No food, although I assume he was intelligent enough to drink water when they allowed him to use the bathroom. Lucky for him he is a wizard, or he would have starved to death." He said heavily.
"Oh. Good. That we can fix, right enough. What's wrong, dear?" she bustled cheerfully around, Harry by no means the worst case she had fixed over the summer for Severus.
"So many children. And I, of course, can no longer guiltlessly hate Potter. Although he isn't the worst we've seen, he still has not had the easiest of lives, if this summer is any indication. I…" he was interrupted by Poppy's distracted "mmmhh". He hated that sound, it never preceded good news. She had found some complication as she checked those wide, innocent eyes, then ran her wand over his chest. She repeated the sound. "What is it?" he asked nervously.
"Oh, nothing serious. Just the beginning of cataracts from dust constantly scratching his corneas, and acute asthma from inhaling that dust." She gave him a reassuring smile. "The cataracts I can cure completely, and I daresay I may even be able to correct his vision. The asthma…I think perhaps if I clean out his lungs, the asthma will go away. He's very lucky. So few of the boys you bring me can be cured, Severus." She patted his arm gently. "Run along to the headmaster, I'll take care of him. I daresay we'll have him out and about within a week, don't you worry." With a quiet smile, Severus obeyed, and Madam Pomfrey went back to prodding and testing her patient.
~
True to the predictions of Hogwarts' most excellent Mediwitch, Harry was indeed walking, unsteadily and with the assistance of two parallel bars, within a week. His eyes were clear, and his vision was perfect, and his asthma was all but gone. Madam Pomfrey herself had left the school to tend to her sister's baby, who, sadly, was critically ill, as soon as Harry began to eat steadily and grow stronger. She left him trustingly in Severus's care, and it hadn't been nearly as horrid as the young Gryffindor imagined.
Harry grunted as he took another step, hands floating above the railings, ready to catch himself if he stumbled, but wanting to make it to the other side without its aid. Severus watched him carefully. Sweat poured down his pale skin, and he was still skinny, but no longer sticklike. Poppy's diet was slowly returning a healthy layer of muscle and fat to Potter's atrophied frame. The young man tripped, caught himself with his hands, and cursed in frustration. Severus sighed sympathetically, and walked between the railings to lift Potter in his arms and bring him to the wheelchair he'd been puttering around in for the past few days.
"Nicely done. You're making excellent progress, Poppy tells me. You'll be walking alone by the time school's in session again. You know, I've never dealt with anything like this before." His tone was conversational and almost friendly. Harry stared at him, studying him carefully.
"You're doing it again." He said finally. Severus cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "Being nice." He clarified. "Why?" Severus brooded for a few moments before offering a reply.
"I've seen you from a different perspective, Potter. It makes me sad every time I have to bring a student of mine here, or a student's sibling, because of his own family, and I know it is dull in the summer here. Why should I aggravate the situation any?"
"You've…you've brought other students here? To Madam Pomfrey?"
"I am the Head of Slytherin, you know." Blank incomprehension.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Severus shook his head.
"Never mind, Potter. Shall we go outside? I believe Hagrid is back from visiting Charlie Weasley."
"Yes please." At least the young man had good manners.
~
Harry woke with a shriek, clapping his hand to his scar and feeling it ooze blood. Severus dashed in a few minutes later, slippers on his feet and in a hastily donned robe. He gently raised the lights to a comfortable level, and shuffled to Harry's side. His eyes widened as Potter brought his hand away from his scar smeared with blood. He called up a brighter light on the end of his wand to examine it, but there was no break in the skin.
"He was attacking me through our link." He whispered. Severus gently wiped away the blood with a gauze pad, glancing at the young Gryffidor askance.
"You're still linked with him after sixteen years?" he was incredulous. "Dumbledore didn't break it?" Harry frowned and mutely shook his head. He rolled his eyes, pointed his wand at the scar, and muttered some inaudible Latin words. A tension and pressure in Harry's brain that he had always taken as normal suddenly eased, almost as if he'd been in pain all his life only to have it relieved, and to discover that it wasn't usual. The ever-present ache behind his scar disappeared, and he stared at his Professor with wide eyes. "Don't look at me that way Potter." He said uncomfortably. "That sort of magic is not all that difficult. Dumbledore could have done it in a heartbeat. And that's what Voldemort will believe."
"Thank you." Potter replied softly.
"You're very welcome. Can you go back to sleep?" Potter nodded, and Severus dimmed the lights as he left the chamber.
~
TBC
All rightey then! Reviews will be very much appreciated!
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See ya in the next chapter!
~SpiderGoat~