Lady Foxfire: I can't tell you that! 8-) It's a surprise.
Nicky: You rock. Thanks as always for everything. Your insight and input are simply amazing!!!
Punkpixie87: I absolutely agree.
Kate the Great: Now, that's an idea. Veritaserum Dumbledore. Hmmm. Although it has amazing possibilities, I can't help but think he's too powerful for something like that (politically as well as magically).
Abby, Kimmy: I know. Poor Harry. Percy's such a prat at times!
Hyper Princess, Michelle, Mo, Elizabeth Bathory, SpiderGirl05: Thank you very much! blushes
Slytherin Sweetheart: No time for romance here, sorry. Harry's just trying to stay alive. 8-(
Author's Note: As promised, here's Snape! I've done him in a different perspective than everyone else, and kept him present tense, so do keep that in mind. It might jar a little as you transition from his perspective to someone else's, but you'll see why I needed to do that in later chapters. He's so complex. I hope you enjoy. Thanks as always for reading, and please review!
Chapter 16
I floo into the Weasley living room and instantly itch. Suppressing a shudder at even having to stay in the same home as the Weasley brood, I glare at the man brushing distractedly at his dingy robes before me. Remus Lupin had evidently been sitting on the couch when I arrived. He looks exhausted as he wearily stands, a wry smile on his face as he gazes at me. His robes are threadbare as ever, and his face has a grayish pallor. Of course, within two days he'll be covered in gray fur and no longer be bipedal.
"Lupin," I greet as I hand over his latest batch of Wolfsbane Potion. He accepts the flask with hands that tremble slightly.
"Thank you, Severus," Lupin says gratefully, setting the potion on a high shelf nearby. *Undoubtedly to keep it out of reach of the human bludgers,* I think, recalling how everything the Weasley twins touch becomes damaged or destroyed. I don't reply. "I thought you would arrive once Harry has gone off the Dreamless Sleep potion," Lupin asks distractedly as he heads towards what appears to be the Weasley kitchen. "Tea?" he asks over his shoulder.
I overcome the urge to immediately pull out my own satchel of tea. Grateful that the water will be boiled before I drink it anyway, I decide to go wild and have some of theirs instead. I have food rations for a week should I be forced to use them, although Albus promised that no ridiculous Canary Creams or other absurd jokes will be thrown my way by the twins while I'm here to help Potter.
"Now, Severus. I know how impatient you are with the Weasleys, but I must ask you to be on your best behavior." I recall my Headmaster's gentle admonishment. Hurmmm. Best behavior indeed.
I'd actually just gone to sleep after a particularly frustrating session of potion making. Damn Peeves anyway. If he weren't already dead.
"Albus felt that after the Daily Prophet article Voldemort might escalate his attacks, or at least increase their frequency," I reply by way of explanation, sitting in a kitchen chair as Lupin sets the kettle on the stove.
"As soon as you have a moment, I'd like you to take a look at him, Severus. I fear he might be nearing saturation," Lupin says softly. I feel my back stiffen at those words. So soon? Surely he could last longer than this.
"He's fifteen. He should last another month or so," I say reasonably. Granted, he's always been a runt.
"You'll have to see for yourself, then," Lupin replies cryptically. I yawn while glaring at his back. "Were you told what happened?" he asks. I raise an eyebrow.
"Just that something happened to him while he was at his relatives' house, and that his dreams have gotten dangerously bad," I reply. I think this is the longest I've gone without insulting the man. I should get a medal for it. Granted, it's far easier being personable with Lupin than Black. If I last the night without hexing him, I think I should apply for sainthood.
"His injuries have for the most part healed, but he was abused, Severus. That's why we took him out," Lupin says softly. I still for a moment. I must have misheard.
"His relatives? The ones who've kept him since he was one?" I ask stupidly. This isn't right.
"Yes," Lupin replies softly.
"Were they cursed? Was security breached?" I ask, still puzzled. It has not escaped my notice just *who* it was who took him out of his home. I've been bothered why Hogwarts staff wasn't involved in this. Clearly if Voldemort has found a way around the defenses Dumbledore has set up then Potter *shouldn't* have been brought here, but rather straight to Madam Pomfrey.
"No. No curses. Evidently the Dursleys have always abused Harry," Lupin replied. I know my jaw has dropped, but he has the decency not to turn around confrontationally. He keeps his back to me as he floats two teacups from a cupboard and onto a tray next to the sugar, honey and milk. Lupin snatches the pot off the stove before it can whistle a ridiculous tune (the first few notes before Lupin grabbed it sounded suspiciously like 'It's a Small World'. Glad he stopped it, or I would have blasted the thing. )
"Potter has been abused?" I repeat, stunned. This is unexpected. Of all the childhoods I'd thought The Boy Who Lived might have, this isn't it.
"Yes. Quite badly," Lupin replies and turns at last to set the tea set in front of me. I pour my tea distractedly, frowning.
"And no one knew?" I ask, still bewildered.
"No. No one knew," he replies. I sip the tea, having forgotten to add a few lumps of sugar. It's scalding hot and bitter, but the pain against my tongue helps to lift me out of my befuddled state. In all fairness, it is three in the morning, and I have had all of two hours of sleep.
"Not even Weasley or Granger?" I persist in asking. Lupin looks up at me as he pours his own tea. He frowns, and I see he's losing patience.
"He was locked in his room. When we found him, he was horribly bruised and beaten, with strangulation marks around his neck. He's malnourished, although Molly's trying desperately to rectify that. Haven't you noticed how small he is for his age? Neither Lily or James were," Lupin states flatly. His pupils have dilated and I realize there is far more *not* being said as well. I feel the hair raise on the back of my neck. Albus most certainly told me none of this.
"He's a little old for abuse to start at fourteen. no, fifteen. So what caused it to begin this year?" I ask. Lupin looks truly angry now, which in itself is a frightening thing. He may be beloved of the rest of England, but I will always be able to see the wolf underneath, and remember with painful clarity just how much he terrifies me.
There is a reason why werewolves are ostracized from wizarding society. No matter how you slice them, there is still a monster underneath. But even as my hands tremble, I refuse to accept that Potter has had an abusive childhood. Albus surely couldn't have let that happen, could he? He wouldn't do that to a child, an innocent child. *Especially his beloved Harry Potter,* I think with surprising bitterness.
"I saw where he slept. I could smell the pain and blood. It's in the walls, the floors, it permeates from every fiber in that house. Harry keeps trying to make us think it only happened this year, but I know better. I have no doubt that it has been happening since he first moved in with the Dursleys," Lupin said with certainty. I sit there for a while sipping at the tea he's given me. I certainly have to rearrange my analysis of Potter's response to things, it seems. How cheering. Have I been deliberately cruel to a boy who's been abused all his life? I nearly snort into my tea. Merlin, even trying to be good I make a better Death Eater. Let's kick the boy while he's down, shall we?
"Considering his size is due to malnourishment, there are potions that Madam Pomfrey may not know about. I'll visit with her as soon as I return to Hogwarts and make sure there isn't more we can do for him," I say after a moment, pleased at how calm my voice sounds. *Down, boy,* I think as I watch Lupin calm himself, but my snide remark doesn't even comfort me.
"Thank you. I felt you needed to know *why* Harry might already be at saturation. Because it's going to affect any potions we give him," Lupin says. "Would you like to examine him now?" he asks as he sets his empty teacup aside. I nod and stand. "Sirius is up there," he warns me. Charming. I grunt noncommittally, but slip my wand a little closer to my wrist in case I need it.
I follow Lupin up the stairs and rub my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose. I think the colors of the Weasley house are giving me a headache. And that's with its occupants asleep. At the end of the hallway, Lupin opens a door and steps inside, holding it open for me as well.
We step into a room filled with Quiddich memorabilia. Flags and posters were scattered on all four walls of both the Hogwarts house teams and the World Cup teams. Two walls had been painted bright red, and two a gold yellow. Gryffindor's colors. Lovely. Potter's owl sits on a perch in the corner of the room, eyeing me suspiciously. I officially decided to escalate that headache up to a migraine. A bed is tucked into the corner of the room, and I can see the back of Black as he leans forward, tenderly brushing the hair off of Harry's forehead and pressing a washcloth against it. I can't really see the boy yet, but I can hear muffled whimpers. Frowning, I step forward as Black turns. I'd laugh in different circumstances. I've never seen a face transition from fear and concern to venomous rage so quickly. He leaps up from the bed and strides across the room to plant himself in front of me, effectively blocking my view of Potter. I frown as I realize Potter's dreaming and am oddly disappointed. After all I've heard about these dreams.
"So these are the famous *nightmares* Potter has? Rather anticlimactic," I say. Black bristles before me, and I swear he begins to growl.
"No, Severus, this is Harry on Dreamless Sleeping potion," Lupin says softly behind me.
"Impossible. You *can't* dream." I protest. This cannot be.
"Oh, but he is," Black says, his eyes deadly. If circumstances were any different, we would duel to death in a heartbeat. And I'd be glad for it.
"Sirius, let him examine Harry. It'll be easier to do it now, while he's asleep," Lupin says gently. I know he's trying to diffuse the tension, but he still annoys me. Sirius glares at me for a moment longer, then pauses to look searchingly into my eyes. What on earth the convict is searching for I have no idea, but after a few moments he steps aside.
I approach Potter and notice that he has indeed lost considerable weight. He looks shockingly more like he did first year than at the end of last year. His skin color is grayish, and his face is covered in sweat. His hair is plastered against his skull, and his scar shows up brightly against his forehead. In fact, it looked painfully raw, as if it were infected, and even as I watch it, blood seeps from it.
"He's dying, Severus. It's quite serious. If we cannot find a way to provide some relief for Harry, I am not sure how much longer he can withstand this onslaught," Albus had told me earlier. My mission here was simple, really. Create an entirely new potion with the ability to not only suppress dreams and visions, but curse scar connections as well. The fact that I'm aware of only one such connection is irrelevant. There are many potions out there that suppress dreams and/or visions, or both easily. But all these potions have already been tried on Potter unsuccessfully. Once more into the breach.
I frown as I glance at his skin, and pinch the flesh on his neck hard, carefully looking at the successive colors the now reddened skin turns.
"Stop it! What are you doing?" Black asks angrily as he steps forward. Lupin restrains him thankfully.
"Sirius, I asked him to check for saturation," Lupin explains.
"And that's how you do it?" Black asks him. Lupin nods.
"He's looking for discoloration. Normal skin when pinched whitens first as blood is pushed away from the surface. In saturated skin, reddish blue hues will also show up as well. I thought I might have seen it, but as I've only read about how it should look." he says and I can feel his inquisitive glance on my back. I nod but do not turn. I'm taking Potter's pulse now, and feel his heart beating like a rabbit's. His breathing is shallow, and for someone on a Dreamless Sleep potion, he certainly appears to be dreaming. His face contorts, as if in pain, and I can feel him tense underneath my hand.
"He is saturated. He won't be able to continue with the potions as originally planned," I say, then turn to look at Black.
"Why? What can it hurt? At least on the potion he doesn't remember his dreams. It still offers him a measure of protection," he says, and his voice has gone up an octave in distress. I shake my head.
"Do you know what the side affects are, Black?" I ask him. He looks frustrated and frowns, shaking his head.
"I remember something about long term exposure being severely bad, but I would hardly qualify this as long term exposure," Black persists.
"Permanent memory loss. Long term memory damage. He'll remember a conversation for a day, but the next day you'll have to start again. It attacks the synapses of the human mind in such a way that they misfire. He may lose memories from his childhood. If you're lucky, he'll at least retain that, but he won't be able to retain anything beyond what he's already learned. Schooling won't matter. He won't be able to recognize anyone new, because the next day they'll be strangers again. Is my picture clear enough for you to realize the importance of this?" I demand. Could he go *just a little longer*? Phah. Too much is too much, and in potions precision is everything. Black looks appropriately bleak. My message has been received then.
"Okay. Starting tomorrow we'll set to work on having him sleep during the day then," Black says resignedly towards Lupin. I raise an eyebrow inquiringly, but they are both ignoring me.
"You know everyone will be more than happy to help with that, Sirius," Lupin reassures, then sees my glance.
"I understand you need to witness these nightmares and the damage they do in action, but we cannot do this strictly for observation's sake. They are too hard on Harry. We are going to try to get Harry to sleep during the day and stay awake at night to avoid them," Lupin explained. "It appears you'll be stuck here until several occur." He states, but means it as a question. I nod, silencing my own impatience. The sooner I see the effects of his dream, the sooner I can begin working with my potions to try to help him. *I* don't think they're doing much of a favor for the boy by making me wait.
"Has he always had dreams while on the potion?" I ask curiously. As much as I dislike the boy, his case is intriguing and unique. I relish challenges and am eager to begin on this one - back in the peaceful haven of a dungeon which is my home. Black shakes his head.
"This is only the second time," he responds. I realize with a start that we've managed to have a civil conversation. "Have you read his journal?" Black asks abruptly. I shake my head. For some reason, Albus refrained from having me read it. In fact, he seemed a bit ashamed about it, which of course piqued my curiosity.
"No, I haven't. I've been told of the nature of it's contents, though," I reply. I would dearly have been interested to read it firsthand. I'm well aware of what Voldemort considers *sport*. I suppose that reading Potter's journal could make his plight more real me. For now, although his condition is obvious, I have to struggle not to let my perceptions of the boy slip back into what they've always been.
"He watches as Voldemort kills nightly," Black said, and his normally blue eyes have turned black, dilating with accusation. So much for a civil conversation. "He witnesses what Death Eaters do, Snape," he says. My own shame, and the guilt I stare at myself in the mirror with are not for him to judge.
"We all have done things we're not proud of," I reply vaguely, suddenly fatigued. I'm tired of this conversation.
"Yes, but only some of us have killed innocents," Black says, his voice dangerously low.
"Perhaps Potter here hasn't," I respond, knowing I've gone too far even as I've said it. Lupin turns chalk white, with bright spots of red on each cheek. Black lunges for me abruptly, his fist connecting with my jaw before I even know what's happening. *Odd,* I think. I've become so used to people trying to hex me that I forgot to protect myself against the obvious punch. Something to tuck away, I remind myself even as I fall back against Potter's owl cage. It clatters to the floor, and me with it. In an instant, I'm ready. Let's finish this. My jaw pops painfully as I stand and I grind my teeth in anger. Self righteous bastard.
"Sirius?" a voice calls faintly from the corner of the room. It's Potter. He's staring at all three of us, glaring at each other and ready to come to blows. Well, perhaps not Lupin, although in retrospect I feel slightly bad for including him in my insult. Monster that he is, he wasn't accusing me of anything. Only Black was.
"Harry?" Sirius asks, his face and voice abruptly changing from rage to concern blindingly fast. "Why are you awake?" he asks, and I can see Potter frowning, his gaze unfocused. He reaches over to his nightstand and puts on his glasses. Ah, yes. The boy's blind as a bat.
Potter's shockingly green eyes take in Black's quick stride back to the side of his bed. I've always felt his eye color seemed oddly unnatural. Although his color matches Lily's exactly, hers were never as bright. I've had to refrain from dimming the candles in Potions class just to satisfy my own curiosity to see if they glow.
In a way, I think it's why I prefer to see the emotion in Potter's eyes when I provoke him. When his eyes are normal, inquisitive, or quietly observant, I sometimes feel as if he sees too much of me. As if he knows the part I played in his parents' death. As if he knows the reason why my wizard's debt to him is twice as strong as it ever was for James.
He watches as Lupin rights the owl cage, and finally his eyes rest on me. I'm not sure what I expected his response would be when he first saw me. Rage, perhaps. Anger, discomfort, even embarrassment. I've certainly inflicted all of these emotions on him. But what I see in his face is something quite different. He smiles wryly, and I could almost swear I see relief in his eyes. Now I know it's time to go to bed. I'm seeing things.
"I recall some sort of truce between you two," he says dryly, his voice still barely audible. His sense of humor in this situation astounds me. I would think he'd be horrified to see his godfather coming to blows with me. Or at least rooting his godfather on.
"There is," I reply, and I hear Black mumble something under his breath. Harry looks up at Black, and I freeze as a chill goes up my spine. His expression is most certainly not that of a child, or even an adolescent. His eyes are far too old for his face.
"Sirius, he's here to help," Potter admonishes him like a child. Sirius sits on the edge of his bed and I hear a faint apology. To him. Not to me. His eyes begin to droop. The potion isn't completely worn off then. As his eyes fall closed, he glances at me.
"That was unkind," he says faintly, admonishing me. I say nothing. In fact, I'm fascinated at the range of expressions that now cross his face. He struggles to stay awake, but it's only a matter of moments before the potion takes him under again. "Miss me?" he abruptly asks cheekily. I'm stunned, and attribute his odd behavior to the potion.
"As I'm losing yet another holiday dealing with the messes you get yourself into, Potter, I must give an unequivocal no," I respond.
"Who would have thought it's a full time job keeping me alive?" he asks, and drops off to sleep, his smile fading to a grimace. We're all silent now, staring at each other. Lupin is the first to collect himself. He opens the door, his face cold. My comment earlier has stung him.
"Let me show you where you'll be staying," Lupin says. I nod and follow.
********************************************************************
Harry opened his eyes, and groaned softly as he did so.
"Harry?" Sirius asked, his hand touching the side of Harry's face tentatively. Harry nodded and peeled his eyes open.
"I'm still tired," he said, frowning. Is this what a hangover feels like?
"I'm sorry, Harry, but we can't let you use the Dreamless Sleep tonight," Sirius said, a scowl on his face. Harry closed his eyes wearily.
"Why am I so tired?" he asked Sirius. Sirius sighed and helped Harry sit up.
"You dreamt," Sirius replied. Harry stared at his godfather.
"Have I before?" he asked. Sirius nodded.
"Once," he replied. Harry gulped.
"So I guess that's it," Harry said, sighing. He felt discouraged and weary. Images of the newspaper still burned in his mind. Waves of guilt and grief threatened to overcome him for a moment. Whispered voices threatened to become a scream again, but quickly Harry remembered his resolution from last night. This time he'd try to do more. Notice more. Do something. The voices blessedly fell back into silence.
"Harry?" Sirius said, his voice concerned. Harry opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed.
"Yeah," Harry replied.
"We'll get through this, Harry," Sirius said solemnly and placed his hand on Harry's. "You're not alone," he promised. Harry nodded, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He was so tired. He'd had a good day yesterday. He just wished it was as easy for him to recall the love and joy of realizing all that had been given to him as it was to remember those faces from the newspaper.
'Okay, stop feeling sorry for yourself,' Harry scolded himself. Abruptly Harry was pulled into a hug. Surprised at first, Harry didn't respond, but slowly he relaxed and allowed his arms to snake around Sirius, feeling the strong thud of Sirius' heartbeat against Harry's face. He felt so warm and alive. Harry sighed heavily, allowing himself to relax in Sirius' arms. 'This is what I need to focus on. The living, not the dead,' Harry thought and allowed his eyes to slide closed. Sirius continued to hold him, and even as he drifted to sleep Harry felt the security of Sirius' presence. 'Yes,' his last clear thoughts were, 'He's worth risking everything for.' Harry stood by his decision, although the handkerchief portkey in his pocket was still a comfort.
*******************************************************************
Remus sat at the table. Arthur looked at the object in his hand, then placed it in his pocket thoughtfully.
"I understand why and will do as you ask, but. are you sure it will happen?" Arthur asked. Remus looked up and smiled gratefully as Molly placed another cup of tea and a plate of scones in front of both himself and Arthur before joining them at the table.
"I feel it's a real possibility," Remus replied.
"I pray you're wrong," Arthur said after a moment's pause, his eyes thoughtful, then turned to Molly. "How's our other houseguest?" he asked. Molly laughed.
"I don't think I've ever seen someone so completely discontent. He looks at our home like we're diseased. It would be quite disturbing if his expressions weren't so comical," Molly replied. Remus looked at her in surprise. "What?" she asked Remus.
"I normally don't think of him as comical," Remus replied. Molly shook her head.
"He's a terror in class, and I know he torments poor Harry especially. But he's a gifted Potions Master. I've heard it from too many people not to believe it. And despite all the bad, he's trusted by Dumbledore. I don't take his behavior personally, because, well, he's like that with everyone. If he insulted me only, maybe I'd feel differently, but I guess it just seems like that's his nature," Molly replied after a moment.
"Wait till he says something biting to Harry. Then we'll see how casual you are," Remus said after a moment. He smiled as he said it, but he knew it was true. She'd respond far differently if Severus were cruel to Harry. Of course, those were much different circumstances.
"True, Remus. But hopefully it won't come to that," Arthur said. Then he coughed uncomfortably, his eyes darting towards Molly.
"Should I leave?" Remus asked. Arthur shook his head, then smiled wryly.
"Well, um, Ron wants to switch rooms with Harry," he said after a moment.
"What on earth for?" Molly asked, stunned.
"He doesn't want Harry staying in Percy's room after what he did to him," Arthur said after a moment. Molly stilled, and Remus dearly wished he'd left anyway.
"Well, I can't say as I blame him for being angry. I'm furious with him myself. But that's no excuse for being petty," Molly said after a moment's thought. Arthur nodded.
"I told him as much, but I thought you should know. He's determined, so keep an eye on him. He might have everything switched over before we know what's happened, especially if he enlists the others' help," Arthur said after a moment. Molly nodded.
"Sirius looked exhausted when I saw him briefly this morning, Remus. Didn't either of you sleep well?" Molly asked. Remus nearly choked on his tea. That was a subtle way to say he looked bad as well. He smiled at Molly.
"No. Harry still had dreams last night, and Professor Snape confirmed that Harry's nearing saturation," Remus said, reluctant to break their good mood.
"Oh dear," Molly said quietly. Arthur nodded.
"Well, then let's plan on a schedule for the next week or so. How long before Harry can go back on the potion again?" Arthur asked practically.
"I don't know. I suppose we should find out today or tomorrow," Remus replied. Molly nodded.
"Well, everyone else should be waking up shortly. I'll get on breakfast," she said and stood up, but not soon enough for Remus to miss the tears threatening to fall.
"Have you heard from the Ministry at all this morning?" Remus asked. Arthur shook his head.
"No, but I would like to believe no news is good news," he replied.
"So would I," Remus said. "So would I."
Nicky: You rock. Thanks as always for everything. Your insight and input are simply amazing!!!
Punkpixie87: I absolutely agree.
Kate the Great: Now, that's an idea. Veritaserum Dumbledore. Hmmm. Although it has amazing possibilities, I can't help but think he's too powerful for something like that (politically as well as magically).
Abby, Kimmy: I know. Poor Harry. Percy's such a prat at times!
Hyper Princess, Michelle, Mo, Elizabeth Bathory, SpiderGirl05: Thank you very much! blushes
Slytherin Sweetheart: No time for romance here, sorry. Harry's just trying to stay alive. 8-(
Author's Note: As promised, here's Snape! I've done him in a different perspective than everyone else, and kept him present tense, so do keep that in mind. It might jar a little as you transition from his perspective to someone else's, but you'll see why I needed to do that in later chapters. He's so complex. I hope you enjoy. Thanks as always for reading, and please review!
Chapter 16
I floo into the Weasley living room and instantly itch. Suppressing a shudder at even having to stay in the same home as the Weasley brood, I glare at the man brushing distractedly at his dingy robes before me. Remus Lupin had evidently been sitting on the couch when I arrived. He looks exhausted as he wearily stands, a wry smile on his face as he gazes at me. His robes are threadbare as ever, and his face has a grayish pallor. Of course, within two days he'll be covered in gray fur and no longer be bipedal.
"Lupin," I greet as I hand over his latest batch of Wolfsbane Potion. He accepts the flask with hands that tremble slightly.
"Thank you, Severus," Lupin says gratefully, setting the potion on a high shelf nearby. *Undoubtedly to keep it out of reach of the human bludgers,* I think, recalling how everything the Weasley twins touch becomes damaged or destroyed. I don't reply. "I thought you would arrive once Harry has gone off the Dreamless Sleep potion," Lupin asks distractedly as he heads towards what appears to be the Weasley kitchen. "Tea?" he asks over his shoulder.
I overcome the urge to immediately pull out my own satchel of tea. Grateful that the water will be boiled before I drink it anyway, I decide to go wild and have some of theirs instead. I have food rations for a week should I be forced to use them, although Albus promised that no ridiculous Canary Creams or other absurd jokes will be thrown my way by the twins while I'm here to help Potter.
"Now, Severus. I know how impatient you are with the Weasleys, but I must ask you to be on your best behavior." I recall my Headmaster's gentle admonishment. Hurmmm. Best behavior indeed.
I'd actually just gone to sleep after a particularly frustrating session of potion making. Damn Peeves anyway. If he weren't already dead.
"Albus felt that after the Daily Prophet article Voldemort might escalate his attacks, or at least increase their frequency," I reply by way of explanation, sitting in a kitchen chair as Lupin sets the kettle on the stove.
"As soon as you have a moment, I'd like you to take a look at him, Severus. I fear he might be nearing saturation," Lupin says softly. I feel my back stiffen at those words. So soon? Surely he could last longer than this.
"He's fifteen. He should last another month or so," I say reasonably. Granted, he's always been a runt.
"You'll have to see for yourself, then," Lupin replies cryptically. I yawn while glaring at his back. "Were you told what happened?" he asks. I raise an eyebrow.
"Just that something happened to him while he was at his relatives' house, and that his dreams have gotten dangerously bad," I reply. I think this is the longest I've gone without insulting the man. I should get a medal for it. Granted, it's far easier being personable with Lupin than Black. If I last the night without hexing him, I think I should apply for sainthood.
"His injuries have for the most part healed, but he was abused, Severus. That's why we took him out," Lupin says softly. I still for a moment. I must have misheard.
"His relatives? The ones who've kept him since he was one?" I ask stupidly. This isn't right.
"Yes," Lupin replies softly.
"Were they cursed? Was security breached?" I ask, still puzzled. It has not escaped my notice just *who* it was who took him out of his home. I've been bothered why Hogwarts staff wasn't involved in this. Clearly if Voldemort has found a way around the defenses Dumbledore has set up then Potter *shouldn't* have been brought here, but rather straight to Madam Pomfrey.
"No. No curses. Evidently the Dursleys have always abused Harry," Lupin replied. I know my jaw has dropped, but he has the decency not to turn around confrontationally. He keeps his back to me as he floats two teacups from a cupboard and onto a tray next to the sugar, honey and milk. Lupin snatches the pot off the stove before it can whistle a ridiculous tune (the first few notes before Lupin grabbed it sounded suspiciously like 'It's a Small World'. Glad he stopped it, or I would have blasted the thing. )
"Potter has been abused?" I repeat, stunned. This is unexpected. Of all the childhoods I'd thought The Boy Who Lived might have, this isn't it.
"Yes. Quite badly," Lupin replies and turns at last to set the tea set in front of me. I pour my tea distractedly, frowning.
"And no one knew?" I ask, still bewildered.
"No. No one knew," he replies. I sip the tea, having forgotten to add a few lumps of sugar. It's scalding hot and bitter, but the pain against my tongue helps to lift me out of my befuddled state. In all fairness, it is three in the morning, and I have had all of two hours of sleep.
"Not even Weasley or Granger?" I persist in asking. Lupin looks up at me as he pours his own tea. He frowns, and I see he's losing patience.
"He was locked in his room. When we found him, he was horribly bruised and beaten, with strangulation marks around his neck. He's malnourished, although Molly's trying desperately to rectify that. Haven't you noticed how small he is for his age? Neither Lily or James were," Lupin states flatly. His pupils have dilated and I realize there is far more *not* being said as well. I feel the hair raise on the back of my neck. Albus most certainly told me none of this.
"He's a little old for abuse to start at fourteen. no, fifteen. So what caused it to begin this year?" I ask. Lupin looks truly angry now, which in itself is a frightening thing. He may be beloved of the rest of England, but I will always be able to see the wolf underneath, and remember with painful clarity just how much he terrifies me.
There is a reason why werewolves are ostracized from wizarding society. No matter how you slice them, there is still a monster underneath. But even as my hands tremble, I refuse to accept that Potter has had an abusive childhood. Albus surely couldn't have let that happen, could he? He wouldn't do that to a child, an innocent child. *Especially his beloved Harry Potter,* I think with surprising bitterness.
"I saw where he slept. I could smell the pain and blood. It's in the walls, the floors, it permeates from every fiber in that house. Harry keeps trying to make us think it only happened this year, but I know better. I have no doubt that it has been happening since he first moved in with the Dursleys," Lupin said with certainty. I sit there for a while sipping at the tea he's given me. I certainly have to rearrange my analysis of Potter's response to things, it seems. How cheering. Have I been deliberately cruel to a boy who's been abused all his life? I nearly snort into my tea. Merlin, even trying to be good I make a better Death Eater. Let's kick the boy while he's down, shall we?
"Considering his size is due to malnourishment, there are potions that Madam Pomfrey may not know about. I'll visit with her as soon as I return to Hogwarts and make sure there isn't more we can do for him," I say after a moment, pleased at how calm my voice sounds. *Down, boy,* I think as I watch Lupin calm himself, but my snide remark doesn't even comfort me.
"Thank you. I felt you needed to know *why* Harry might already be at saturation. Because it's going to affect any potions we give him," Lupin says. "Would you like to examine him now?" he asks as he sets his empty teacup aside. I nod and stand. "Sirius is up there," he warns me. Charming. I grunt noncommittally, but slip my wand a little closer to my wrist in case I need it.
I follow Lupin up the stairs and rub my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose. I think the colors of the Weasley house are giving me a headache. And that's with its occupants asleep. At the end of the hallway, Lupin opens a door and steps inside, holding it open for me as well.
We step into a room filled with Quiddich memorabilia. Flags and posters were scattered on all four walls of both the Hogwarts house teams and the World Cup teams. Two walls had been painted bright red, and two a gold yellow. Gryffindor's colors. Lovely. Potter's owl sits on a perch in the corner of the room, eyeing me suspiciously. I officially decided to escalate that headache up to a migraine. A bed is tucked into the corner of the room, and I can see the back of Black as he leans forward, tenderly brushing the hair off of Harry's forehead and pressing a washcloth against it. I can't really see the boy yet, but I can hear muffled whimpers. Frowning, I step forward as Black turns. I'd laugh in different circumstances. I've never seen a face transition from fear and concern to venomous rage so quickly. He leaps up from the bed and strides across the room to plant himself in front of me, effectively blocking my view of Potter. I frown as I realize Potter's dreaming and am oddly disappointed. After all I've heard about these dreams.
"So these are the famous *nightmares* Potter has? Rather anticlimactic," I say. Black bristles before me, and I swear he begins to growl.
"No, Severus, this is Harry on Dreamless Sleeping potion," Lupin says softly behind me.
"Impossible. You *can't* dream." I protest. This cannot be.
"Oh, but he is," Black says, his eyes deadly. If circumstances were any different, we would duel to death in a heartbeat. And I'd be glad for it.
"Sirius, let him examine Harry. It'll be easier to do it now, while he's asleep," Lupin says gently. I know he's trying to diffuse the tension, but he still annoys me. Sirius glares at me for a moment longer, then pauses to look searchingly into my eyes. What on earth the convict is searching for I have no idea, but after a few moments he steps aside.
I approach Potter and notice that he has indeed lost considerable weight. He looks shockingly more like he did first year than at the end of last year. His skin color is grayish, and his face is covered in sweat. His hair is plastered against his skull, and his scar shows up brightly against his forehead. In fact, it looked painfully raw, as if it were infected, and even as I watch it, blood seeps from it.
"He's dying, Severus. It's quite serious. If we cannot find a way to provide some relief for Harry, I am not sure how much longer he can withstand this onslaught," Albus had told me earlier. My mission here was simple, really. Create an entirely new potion with the ability to not only suppress dreams and visions, but curse scar connections as well. The fact that I'm aware of only one such connection is irrelevant. There are many potions out there that suppress dreams and/or visions, or both easily. But all these potions have already been tried on Potter unsuccessfully. Once more into the breach.
I frown as I glance at his skin, and pinch the flesh on his neck hard, carefully looking at the successive colors the now reddened skin turns.
"Stop it! What are you doing?" Black asks angrily as he steps forward. Lupin restrains him thankfully.
"Sirius, I asked him to check for saturation," Lupin explains.
"And that's how you do it?" Black asks him. Lupin nods.
"He's looking for discoloration. Normal skin when pinched whitens first as blood is pushed away from the surface. In saturated skin, reddish blue hues will also show up as well. I thought I might have seen it, but as I've only read about how it should look." he says and I can feel his inquisitive glance on my back. I nod but do not turn. I'm taking Potter's pulse now, and feel his heart beating like a rabbit's. His breathing is shallow, and for someone on a Dreamless Sleep potion, he certainly appears to be dreaming. His face contorts, as if in pain, and I can feel him tense underneath my hand.
"He is saturated. He won't be able to continue with the potions as originally planned," I say, then turn to look at Black.
"Why? What can it hurt? At least on the potion he doesn't remember his dreams. It still offers him a measure of protection," he says, and his voice has gone up an octave in distress. I shake my head.
"Do you know what the side affects are, Black?" I ask him. He looks frustrated and frowns, shaking his head.
"I remember something about long term exposure being severely bad, but I would hardly qualify this as long term exposure," Black persists.
"Permanent memory loss. Long term memory damage. He'll remember a conversation for a day, but the next day you'll have to start again. It attacks the synapses of the human mind in such a way that they misfire. He may lose memories from his childhood. If you're lucky, he'll at least retain that, but he won't be able to retain anything beyond what he's already learned. Schooling won't matter. He won't be able to recognize anyone new, because the next day they'll be strangers again. Is my picture clear enough for you to realize the importance of this?" I demand. Could he go *just a little longer*? Phah. Too much is too much, and in potions precision is everything. Black looks appropriately bleak. My message has been received then.
"Okay. Starting tomorrow we'll set to work on having him sleep during the day then," Black says resignedly towards Lupin. I raise an eyebrow inquiringly, but they are both ignoring me.
"You know everyone will be more than happy to help with that, Sirius," Lupin reassures, then sees my glance.
"I understand you need to witness these nightmares and the damage they do in action, but we cannot do this strictly for observation's sake. They are too hard on Harry. We are going to try to get Harry to sleep during the day and stay awake at night to avoid them," Lupin explained. "It appears you'll be stuck here until several occur." He states, but means it as a question. I nod, silencing my own impatience. The sooner I see the effects of his dream, the sooner I can begin working with my potions to try to help him. *I* don't think they're doing much of a favor for the boy by making me wait.
"Has he always had dreams while on the potion?" I ask curiously. As much as I dislike the boy, his case is intriguing and unique. I relish challenges and am eager to begin on this one - back in the peaceful haven of a dungeon which is my home. Black shakes his head.
"This is only the second time," he responds. I realize with a start that we've managed to have a civil conversation. "Have you read his journal?" Black asks abruptly. I shake my head. For some reason, Albus refrained from having me read it. In fact, he seemed a bit ashamed about it, which of course piqued my curiosity.
"No, I haven't. I've been told of the nature of it's contents, though," I reply. I would dearly have been interested to read it firsthand. I'm well aware of what Voldemort considers *sport*. I suppose that reading Potter's journal could make his plight more real me. For now, although his condition is obvious, I have to struggle not to let my perceptions of the boy slip back into what they've always been.
"He watches as Voldemort kills nightly," Black said, and his normally blue eyes have turned black, dilating with accusation. So much for a civil conversation. "He witnesses what Death Eaters do, Snape," he says. My own shame, and the guilt I stare at myself in the mirror with are not for him to judge.
"We all have done things we're not proud of," I reply vaguely, suddenly fatigued. I'm tired of this conversation.
"Yes, but only some of us have killed innocents," Black says, his voice dangerously low.
"Perhaps Potter here hasn't," I respond, knowing I've gone too far even as I've said it. Lupin turns chalk white, with bright spots of red on each cheek. Black lunges for me abruptly, his fist connecting with my jaw before I even know what's happening. *Odd,* I think. I've become so used to people trying to hex me that I forgot to protect myself against the obvious punch. Something to tuck away, I remind myself even as I fall back against Potter's owl cage. It clatters to the floor, and me with it. In an instant, I'm ready. Let's finish this. My jaw pops painfully as I stand and I grind my teeth in anger. Self righteous bastard.
"Sirius?" a voice calls faintly from the corner of the room. It's Potter. He's staring at all three of us, glaring at each other and ready to come to blows. Well, perhaps not Lupin, although in retrospect I feel slightly bad for including him in my insult. Monster that he is, he wasn't accusing me of anything. Only Black was.
"Harry?" Sirius asks, his face and voice abruptly changing from rage to concern blindingly fast. "Why are you awake?" he asks, and I can see Potter frowning, his gaze unfocused. He reaches over to his nightstand and puts on his glasses. Ah, yes. The boy's blind as a bat.
Potter's shockingly green eyes take in Black's quick stride back to the side of his bed. I've always felt his eye color seemed oddly unnatural. Although his color matches Lily's exactly, hers were never as bright. I've had to refrain from dimming the candles in Potions class just to satisfy my own curiosity to see if they glow.
In a way, I think it's why I prefer to see the emotion in Potter's eyes when I provoke him. When his eyes are normal, inquisitive, or quietly observant, I sometimes feel as if he sees too much of me. As if he knows the part I played in his parents' death. As if he knows the reason why my wizard's debt to him is twice as strong as it ever was for James.
He watches as Lupin rights the owl cage, and finally his eyes rest on me. I'm not sure what I expected his response would be when he first saw me. Rage, perhaps. Anger, discomfort, even embarrassment. I've certainly inflicted all of these emotions on him. But what I see in his face is something quite different. He smiles wryly, and I could almost swear I see relief in his eyes. Now I know it's time to go to bed. I'm seeing things.
"I recall some sort of truce between you two," he says dryly, his voice still barely audible. His sense of humor in this situation astounds me. I would think he'd be horrified to see his godfather coming to blows with me. Or at least rooting his godfather on.
"There is," I reply, and I hear Black mumble something under his breath. Harry looks up at Black, and I freeze as a chill goes up my spine. His expression is most certainly not that of a child, or even an adolescent. His eyes are far too old for his face.
"Sirius, he's here to help," Potter admonishes him like a child. Sirius sits on the edge of his bed and I hear a faint apology. To him. Not to me. His eyes begin to droop. The potion isn't completely worn off then. As his eyes fall closed, he glances at me.
"That was unkind," he says faintly, admonishing me. I say nothing. In fact, I'm fascinated at the range of expressions that now cross his face. He struggles to stay awake, but it's only a matter of moments before the potion takes him under again. "Miss me?" he abruptly asks cheekily. I'm stunned, and attribute his odd behavior to the potion.
"As I'm losing yet another holiday dealing with the messes you get yourself into, Potter, I must give an unequivocal no," I respond.
"Who would have thought it's a full time job keeping me alive?" he asks, and drops off to sleep, his smile fading to a grimace. We're all silent now, staring at each other. Lupin is the first to collect himself. He opens the door, his face cold. My comment earlier has stung him.
"Let me show you where you'll be staying," Lupin says. I nod and follow.
********************************************************************
Harry opened his eyes, and groaned softly as he did so.
"Harry?" Sirius asked, his hand touching the side of Harry's face tentatively. Harry nodded and peeled his eyes open.
"I'm still tired," he said, frowning. Is this what a hangover feels like?
"I'm sorry, Harry, but we can't let you use the Dreamless Sleep tonight," Sirius said, a scowl on his face. Harry closed his eyes wearily.
"Why am I so tired?" he asked Sirius. Sirius sighed and helped Harry sit up.
"You dreamt," Sirius replied. Harry stared at his godfather.
"Have I before?" he asked. Sirius nodded.
"Once," he replied. Harry gulped.
"So I guess that's it," Harry said, sighing. He felt discouraged and weary. Images of the newspaper still burned in his mind. Waves of guilt and grief threatened to overcome him for a moment. Whispered voices threatened to become a scream again, but quickly Harry remembered his resolution from last night. This time he'd try to do more. Notice more. Do something. The voices blessedly fell back into silence.
"Harry?" Sirius said, his voice concerned. Harry opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed.
"Yeah," Harry replied.
"We'll get through this, Harry," Sirius said solemnly and placed his hand on Harry's. "You're not alone," he promised. Harry nodded, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He was so tired. He'd had a good day yesterday. He just wished it was as easy for him to recall the love and joy of realizing all that had been given to him as it was to remember those faces from the newspaper.
'Okay, stop feeling sorry for yourself,' Harry scolded himself. Abruptly Harry was pulled into a hug. Surprised at first, Harry didn't respond, but slowly he relaxed and allowed his arms to snake around Sirius, feeling the strong thud of Sirius' heartbeat against Harry's face. He felt so warm and alive. Harry sighed heavily, allowing himself to relax in Sirius' arms. 'This is what I need to focus on. The living, not the dead,' Harry thought and allowed his eyes to slide closed. Sirius continued to hold him, and even as he drifted to sleep Harry felt the security of Sirius' presence. 'Yes,' his last clear thoughts were, 'He's worth risking everything for.' Harry stood by his decision, although the handkerchief portkey in his pocket was still a comfort.
*******************************************************************
Remus sat at the table. Arthur looked at the object in his hand, then placed it in his pocket thoughtfully.
"I understand why and will do as you ask, but. are you sure it will happen?" Arthur asked. Remus looked up and smiled gratefully as Molly placed another cup of tea and a plate of scones in front of both himself and Arthur before joining them at the table.
"I feel it's a real possibility," Remus replied.
"I pray you're wrong," Arthur said after a moment's pause, his eyes thoughtful, then turned to Molly. "How's our other houseguest?" he asked. Molly laughed.
"I don't think I've ever seen someone so completely discontent. He looks at our home like we're diseased. It would be quite disturbing if his expressions weren't so comical," Molly replied. Remus looked at her in surprise. "What?" she asked Remus.
"I normally don't think of him as comical," Remus replied. Molly shook her head.
"He's a terror in class, and I know he torments poor Harry especially. But he's a gifted Potions Master. I've heard it from too many people not to believe it. And despite all the bad, he's trusted by Dumbledore. I don't take his behavior personally, because, well, he's like that with everyone. If he insulted me only, maybe I'd feel differently, but I guess it just seems like that's his nature," Molly replied after a moment.
"Wait till he says something biting to Harry. Then we'll see how casual you are," Remus said after a moment. He smiled as he said it, but he knew it was true. She'd respond far differently if Severus were cruel to Harry. Of course, those were much different circumstances.
"True, Remus. But hopefully it won't come to that," Arthur said. Then he coughed uncomfortably, his eyes darting towards Molly.
"Should I leave?" Remus asked. Arthur shook his head, then smiled wryly.
"Well, um, Ron wants to switch rooms with Harry," he said after a moment.
"What on earth for?" Molly asked, stunned.
"He doesn't want Harry staying in Percy's room after what he did to him," Arthur said after a moment. Molly stilled, and Remus dearly wished he'd left anyway.
"Well, I can't say as I blame him for being angry. I'm furious with him myself. But that's no excuse for being petty," Molly said after a moment's thought. Arthur nodded.
"I told him as much, but I thought you should know. He's determined, so keep an eye on him. He might have everything switched over before we know what's happened, especially if he enlists the others' help," Arthur said after a moment. Molly nodded.
"Sirius looked exhausted when I saw him briefly this morning, Remus. Didn't either of you sleep well?" Molly asked. Remus nearly choked on his tea. That was a subtle way to say he looked bad as well. He smiled at Molly.
"No. Harry still had dreams last night, and Professor Snape confirmed that Harry's nearing saturation," Remus said, reluctant to break their good mood.
"Oh dear," Molly said quietly. Arthur nodded.
"Well, then let's plan on a schedule for the next week or so. How long before Harry can go back on the potion again?" Arthur asked practically.
"I don't know. I suppose we should find out today or tomorrow," Remus replied. Molly nodded.
"Well, everyone else should be waking up shortly. I'll get on breakfast," she said and stood up, but not soon enough for Remus to miss the tears threatening to fall.
"Have you heard from the Ministry at all this morning?" Remus asked. Arthur shook his head.
"No, but I would like to believe no news is good news," he replied.
"So would I," Remus said. "So would I."