A/N: Tinuviel: :::wink:::  You'll find out…  (You missed a clue though!)  BTW – thank you for reviewing like every two chapters!  As well as K00lgirl1808.  :-D

Also – later in the story I mention a Wiccan prayer of protection.   This is the one: Goddess of love, honor and hope. Grant my wish of needing help. Guide me through this time of need; this time of loneliness and despair. Heed my call of wishes. Love me as I love you. Grant my wish of protection and lead me to higher ground.  I'm not Wiccan, but one of my friends who is was telling me about the religion and I figured that Severus would be Wiccan.  It kinda goes along with his character – misunderstood, but very good, very kind.  I haven't decided yet if Heather will be Wiccan or not.  She seems more the God believing type to me.

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Twelve

-*-*-

            It was a little after noon when Harry woke, eyes blinking sleepily.  Sunlight was pouring in from an enchanted painting that hung behind the wood and metal canopy bed, and streaking across the deep green comforter.  Soft breathing beside him caused the boy to freeze until he realized that he was definitely still clothed.

            The fifteen-year old's gaze shifted.

            Severus was snoring delicately, half his face obscured by the fluff of the pillow.

            'He's so different.' The raven-haired teen thought to himself, 'Not like school.  I wonder if he's always like this or if Heather is threatening him.'

            Sighing, he decided he wanted a bath and stood up quickly, hoping that the swift movement wouldn't wake his father.

            "Humm…" The elder man flipped over, and snuggled back into the blanket.

            Potter let out the breath he had been holding, then padded into the bathroom.  He wasn't sure that he had turned the water on until his eyes registered that he had and he began to remove his shirt.

            The scars showed first, the most prominent one running from his right shoulder and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.  He traced it with a finger, as a memory returned to him in flashes.  It hurt to think of the ground, the person, the air…

            "Harry?" The name was spoken sleepily, the sound of rumpling sheets warning the boy that the professor was awake.

            Potter was silent as he continued to note the path of each scar.

            "Harrison?" The voice was slightly panicked.

            Again, silence was the man's answer.  The teenager was fully enveloped in his memories.  It was a torrent of previously suppressed thoughts, ones he was helpless to avoid.

            The door crashed open, allowing Heather to fly into the room, "Harry!"  She reached a hand to him and placed it on his shoulder, Harry.  Snap out of it.

            His eyes traveled past her to Snape.

            "I remember it all now.  I didn't hold it back." The boy's voice was deadly calm.  And it caused Snape to actually fear for the boy.  He hadn't before, as the fifteen-year old always had Heather to soothe him.  However, this was something she couldn't help with.  She could sympathize, but she could not empathize.

            "Heath, go eat." The elder's almost-ebony eyes never left his son.  He heard her scurry away, before, "We're going to talk about this."

            Harry cowered, stepping backward, "No."

            "Yes, we are." Severus moved to the child, "Remember that Veritaserum has been authorized by the ministry."

            "Please don't make me…"

            The thirty-something snatched the youth into his arms, rubbing the thin back, "I understand, love.  I know it hurts to think about and saying it happened makes it truly real, but it's over now.  It's time to move on with you life."

            Tears started to moisten the pajama top, "I don't want it to be real.  I want it to be a dream."

            Slowly, the professor slid down the wall to the floor.

-*-*-

            Heather, meanwhile, trumped the long distance from the cool dungeons to the warmth of her own chambers, where she tugged on clean clothes and brushed her hair.  A quick brush of her teeth followed, then she was off to the Great Hall for a report from Albus.

            "Good morning."

            Hermione, Ron, and the twins mumbled something sounded like 'morning', but she wasn't quite sure.  She smiled at them anyway, amused by their response to the late night meeting stealing their slumber time.

            "So did I miss anything after I left?" the nearly-nineteen year old inquired, as she dug into her pile of food choices.  She poked at the bond, to find Harry had discovered the art of blocking her, and her ears returned to the conversation she had initiated.

            "Apparently Mitchell was not the only one involved in the Dursleys…capture." Minerva supplied, "Brian and Stanna were there."

            "How did they get the three of them to the Order's dungeons?"

            Thea proceeded to start laughing, forcing Thomas to answer, "Apparently, it only takes two to hog-tie Vernon and Dudley.  And one to get Petunia."

            The elder Potter child started laughing, causing her to nearly choke on her lunch, "What?"

            "The 'we'll-act-now-get-in-trouble-later' trio decided to hog-tie and apparate those people.  Unfortunately, they didn't get splinched." The boy responded, a mild dose of venom in the second sentence.

            Her coughing subsided, "They were returned and oblivated, I trust?"

            "Yes.  We saw to it personally." Remus came up behind her, "Jonay and I."

            "Hi, Uncle Remy." She stared up at him, jovially, "Have any word on Uncle Siri?"

            He nodded, "Mission accomplished.  He's on his way home as we speak."

            "Good." She tugged his hand and forcibly shoved him into the chair beside her, "Eat." A plate was pushed toward the werewolf, "I'm giving him a month off."

            "A month?  Are you sure about that?  It might not be a good idea to let Sirius have more than a week." He greedily started nibbling on some scones.

            She nodded to the affirmative, "I believe you might be able to keep him occupied."

            The twins' eyes grew saucer huge.

            "Ew.  Ew ew ew ew.  I really don't need to even think of that." She dropped her fork, "Oh, sweet Merlin, the image is burned into my eyelids!"

            "Stop that." Lupin laughed, "You know that is not the case, so quit acting like child."

            She stopped at once, a playful grin still plastered to her lips, "I need to speak with Yallenoa this afternoon, so you all will be left to your own devices.  Unless Harry calls for you, please don't go see him today."

            McGonagall took in the carefully constructed mask on her daughter's face, and sent the girl a glare which spoke volumes, then, "I'm sure I can come up with something for them to do.  I imagine that Miss Granger might be able to help me teach her friends a few things."

            Hermione's eyes lit up, the Weasley brothers moaned.

            The redhead smirked, "That's sounds fun.  Maybe they could get a jumpstart on their DADA lessons.  I have a few…items in my room they may use."

            "You aren't seriously going to begin the term with weaponry, are you?" Lupin asked, surprised by her obvious choice.

            "I am." A slurp of a soup followed the brief statement.

            "You're going to give swords to teenagers?"

            She paused for thought, "Is there a problem with that, Uncle Remy?"

            "There might be if Gryffindor and Slytherin are to have class together this year.  And since those two houses have had DADA at the same time forever, I hope you plan to have Madame Pomfrey nearby." His advice had an air of amusement, but it was truthful nonetheless.  Having rival houses in a DADA class with all sorts of manual weapons might not be as good an idea than she had figured.

            "Touché."

            The group continued to chitchat for a few more moments, until Heather rose from her seat and bade everyone a good day.  She exited the Hall, made her way up to her rooms, where she once again changed her clothing.

            Soon adored in a simple white early renaissance dress, she tugged on a cloak of deep green with a large Celtic cross embroidered into it with gold thread.  She wore no shoes in her own custom, with her red tresses hanging down from the hair thong it had been placed in.  Sighing deeply, the teenager placed a locket around her neck, tucking it into her clothing for safekeeping.  A thin sliver bracelet, inscribed magically to display a Wiccan prayer of protection, followed deftly by the words, 'Be careful.  Nothing is more important than your life.' had been a gift from her father when she took up her position as Head of the Order.

            Finally dressed for her mission, she moved to her fireplace, threw in the powder, and spoke, her voice velvet smooth, "Potter's summer home!" She stepped into the flames, and disappeared in an instant.

-*-*-

            By suppertime, Severus and Harry were still sitting in the bathroom, the elder trying to coax anything out of the boy.

            "Harrison, please talk to me." He was desperate now.

            "I can't."

            "You can.  You're a strong person who's quite brave and bloody brilliant when you want to be." He absently stroked the hair, "There isn't a thing you cannot do."

            A deep sigh, then, "I can't do this."

            Tiredly, Snape stood with his son in all but law wrapped securely in his arms.  He shuffled from the room and settled the youth back into the bed, before sweeping through to the workroom.  The black-haired boy could hear the sound of glass clinking together, as the professor's nimble fingers sorted through the various vials and bottles.

            Two and two started to add up, causing the boy to start to panic.  But he couldn't get out of the room, because the elder had returned with what Potter had feared.

            "No."

            "You are going to take this." His voice was forceful, as he presented the single dose of Veritaserum.

            "No." Harry's anger level was rising.  His alertness, on the other hand, was dropping, so he was completely surprised when Severus leaned over to pin him down.  The liquid came soon after.

            Another few minutes had it in full affect, and the probing started, "Now, we're going to start at the beginning with basic questions." The boy's hands were securely held in his father's, "Harry, how old were you when the Dursleys' put you in the cupboard?"

            "One." A look of fear was in his eyes as he replied.  He was terrified, of what his elder might force from him.

            "They must've put you there the day you arrived." A litany of curses – mostly aimed at the headmaster, ran through the potion master's mind, "How old were you when the physical abuse started?"

            The answer was at the tip of his tongue, and the scarred boy struggled to keep it in.  Ultimately, the potion won, "Three."

            "And the manual labor?"

            "Six."

            Severus again swore to himself.  Heather had been right all along.  From the day that he had been left with their aunt and uncle, she had protested, begging for him to come back.

            "Why did Vernon leave you in London?"

            "I interrupted him when he was entertaining someone."

            His curiosity was piqued, "How did you interrupt?"

            "I didn't know that there was someone coming over, so when eight came, I went downstairs to serve supper.  I exposed my freakishness."

            "Freakishness?  Is that what you think you are?  A freak?"

            Harry's gaze traveled past his teacher, "Sometimes."

            He sighed, and continued, "After that Muggle left you, what did you do?  No, wait.  I'll bet I already know your answer.  You are more Slytherin than Gryffindor anyway." He paused for thought, "Do remember what the first person looked like?  The first one that hurt you?"

            "Yes."

            "Do you know his name?"

            "Charles." A sob escaped with the name.

            The professor flitted through his mental database, "What's the rest of Charles' name?"

            "John Charles."

            Shock filled the man's mind – a member of the Order had raped the boy.  A person who had pledged to the leader of said organization to protect all Harry from physical harm when the teen was away from his family.  Had pledged it multiple times, in front of a hundred witnesses.

            "Harry, you are going to repeat after me."

            "Yes."

            "I was raped."

            The previous enragement Potter had held in his bones melted away to a deep sorrow as the words pressed out of his mouth, "I was raped." The reality set it.

            The older man was right – it wasn't truly real until it had been spoken aloud.

            Suddenly, the fifteen-year old was aware that another potion was being poured into his mouth and he swallowed reflexively.  He could feel his control returning, as well as realizing that he must've been given the antidote.

            Heather? He called, knowing she always kept her senses open enough to hear him.

            Yes, love?

            Veritaserum.

            The boy could sense the sigh, I'm sorry, Deartháir.  I didn't know.  I'm not even at Hogwarts right now, but when I get back…

            It was Papa.

            Harry, he would never hurt you.  Trust me.  Please.

            It was implied that he did and he looked to his new father, "I'm hungry."

            Severus' breath of relief was not missed by the youth, "What would you like to eat?  I'm not quite sure what you are particularly fond of."

            "Hot chocolate." Enthusiasm slipped into the words, "And French toast." His stomach rumbled to prove the point that he was clearly not enough for a boy his age.

            "Anything else?" The elder man was fully unaware that the way that which he had asked the question caused Potter to tremble once again.

            "No." He turned his sight to his hands – they really were most interesting.

            Snape bit his tongue, and sat down as close to the boy as he could, "Oh, Harry.  I didn't mean to make you think you can't ask for more."

            "Where's Heather?" Diversionary tactics proved fruitful normally.

            "She's visiting a member of the High Council.  Yallenoa." He reached into the bedside table, withdrawing yet another potion.

            "Do you keep those things everywhere?" The almost-fifth year joked.

            The professor grinned, "You'll have to find out.  Now this is something to settle your stomach.  I'm going to order several different items besides your request and I want you to eat some of everything.  However, since you haven't truly enjoyed a normal meal since, I assume, the end of the school year, I doubt you'll be able to consume much more than a few bites without this."

            "It'll make eating easier?"

            Severus nodded, "Yes."

            "You're sure?" There was worry in the green depths.

            The man nodded, "Now.  I am going to ring Dobby.  Do you want to go sit on the couch or stay in bed?"

            Harry didn't know what to do.  He was tired of the man's incessant questioning, not to mention that he absolutely loathed that his mind had been at the mercy of someone else.  Yet he knew there was an insatiable need to be near another human being, and at the moment, he needed that human being to be a father.

            "Where will you be?"

            "I have lesson plans to write, so I am planning on planting myself in front of the fire."

            The boy nodded, "Couch then." He was lifted gently to his feet, and trotted into the sitting room, where various papers from the night before still lay spread about the coffee table.

            "Heather will be back soon." The 'I hope.' remained within the professor's subconscious, "And knowing her, she will probably bring you something.  While we wait, however, you could go pick some books off the shelves.  I recently came into quite a collection of ones on Quidditch and Animagi.  A few on flying as well." The elder offered, then sat down in his desk chair.

            The boy dashed into the study.  He returned moments later with a book beneath his arm, plopped down on the couch and began to read.

            He chose to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com

You guys have no clue how proud I am of myself – this was written, spellchecked, and proofread (not necessarily in that order) within three days.  And it's my longest chapter yet!