Disclaimer: J.K.R. owns Harry Potter and co., not me (I wouldn't mind owning Sev though). This story is slightly (basically bits of the plot ideas; just technical stuff) inspired by Minnionette's A Gutter Rat's Tale and Dauphin's Let History Repeat Itself. Niamh O'Feir, Jardin, Mika Davids, Darcorn's, and anything you don't recognize belong to me.
Not Myself by Saerry Snape
Chapter 130 – Explanations and a Revelation
Harry's first morning back at Hogwarts would turn out to be one he would regret. He had, as usual, been awoken by a hyperactive Niamh. This had, in turn, awoken Draco. The blonde had gotten used to not having the dark-haired girl charge into their dorm and awaken Harry and was, therefore, very disgruntled. Harry had allowed them to scream at each other for a few moments before he stepped in and separated them.
That was the first hurdle of the morning. From it, Harry could see that Niamh might never accept that Draco Malfoy was a semi-decent person. Once he decided you were worth the effort of being nice to, that is.
At breakfast, the second hurdle came limping in.
Harry was sitting across from Niamh having a heated discussion about her new spell. Mischa was perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes flicking from one older student to the other as though she were watching a tennis match.
"Loo', Ni, ye can'na add those two incantat'ns t'ge'ther. I' jus' woan work!"
"And why not? I did the configurations at least a hundred times! It'll work, mate!"
"No, i' woan! Na unless ye pu' another incantat'n 'tween 'em."
Niamh scowled at him and Harry sighed, "Will ye jus' believe me? Ah know whot Ah'm talkin' abou'."
"I'm going to talk to Professor Flitwick."
"Fine. 'E'll tell ye tha same t'ing."
"We'll see," said Niamh.
Harry nodded and said, "Aye, ye will."
Suddenly Niamh's eyes flicked behind Harry and the dark-haired boy didn't even have time to turn before a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. He turned slowly and looked up at his father, who was frowning down at him. A surge of happiness went through him as he saw that the man was relatively unharmed from his ordeal last term. Except for that scar that slashed through his left eyebrow…
"Mr. Potter," purred Severus. "If you would?"
"Aye, sir," murmured Harry, rising from his seat. He mouthed 'See you later' at Niamh then followed his father out. Noting, to his ire, that the Potions Master was limping. A fierce anger at Voldemort and his Death Eaters rose up in him and he hurriedly shoved it back down into the murky depths. If he even thought about what that madman had done to his father, that same dark energy that had taken over when he's confronted Argil would rear its head.
He didn't want or need that right now.
Severus led Harry down to his office, where he promptly locked the door, which secured the wards he had installed the year before. Anti-Eavesdropping was one of the charms woven into them.
"Harry," said Severus roughly as he looked at his son. He hadn't seen the boy since he'd been tortured and was slightly surprised. The young man was even taller than he remembered and matched him for height now. Those emerald eyes that haunted his dreams were as bright as ever and showed nothing but curiosity. And worry.
"Da," mumbled Harry, rushing through the same look-over that his father had. He noted that he was thinner but held himself the same way as he always did. Beyond the limp and the scar, there were no signs of his torture.
The sixteen-year-old took a small step forward and was suddenly jerked into a bear hug. Severus held him like that for a moment before he took a step back and said, "You look well."
"Ye too," said Harry. "Ah'm glad yer alrigh', Da."
"And I you. I see your accent has returned."
"Yeh," mumbled Harry, running a hand back through his hair. It was chin-length now instead of the short-cropped mess it had been after the encounter with Voldemort a year ago.
"Sit," said Severus, gesturing at a chair as he sat down at his desk. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
"OWLS?" asked Harry as he sank down into the chair, one leg curled underneath him.
Severus blinked at the question then shook his head.
"No, no. I've heard about that whole situation. I want to talk about something that Albus told me over the summer…"
The color drained from Harry's face and he gasped, "'E…'e did'na…'e did'na tell ye, did 'e?"
Severus gave his son a serious look and Harry nearly leapt out of his chair.
"Da, Ah…"
"I know, Harry," said Severus, motioning his son back into his seat. "I was raised on the streets, too."
Harry nodded slowly, sinking back down into his chair. He felt ashamed and embarrassed. Niamh and Dumbledore finding out about the murder was one thing. His father was another altogether.
"Why do ye wan' ter talk?"
"Harry…killing is something no one should do. Especially not a child."
"Ah'm na a chil'," defended Harry with a frown.
Severus smiled slightly and said, "I know that. Growing up quickly is a needed attribute on the street. But even with that…you were still a child. A fourteen-year-old has no reason to be forced to kill."
"But…" said Harry.
"But," continued Severus, "I do understand the situation. The death of someone dear can force anyone to do what they might not in a normal situation."
Harry took a deep, shuddery breath and Severus leaned forward, worry etched across his features.
"Harry…"
"Ah'm fine," said Harry roughly. "I's jus'…i's hard ter remember."
"I know," said Severus. "And I'm sorry to ask you this but…could you tell me what happened? That year and last term?"
Harry looked at his father for a long time, his stare seeming to penetrate to the man's soul. He then looked away and slowly nodded.
"Yeh. Ah thin' Ah cou' do tha."
Severus smiled gently and said, "Take your time. You don't have to tell me if…"
"No," said Harry. "Ah do. Ye shou' know. Ni does."
"Would you rather I got my Pensieve? Albus said you…"
"No!" said Harry sharply. He shook his head and continued, "Ah wan' ter tell ye straigh'. Na Pensieve, na nothin'. Jus' me."
Severus nodded, feeling a swell of pride for his son. It took a lot of courage for him to tell this story on his own. A courage that Severus recognized as Lily's.
"Whenever your ready," he murmured.
Harry glanced once at his father's face then took a deep breath – and began.
* * * *
"Where's Harry?" asked Hermione as she caught up with Niamh on the way to lunch. "He hasn't been in classes all morning!"
"Professor Snape came and got him this morning," replied the dark-haired girl.
"About what?"
Niamh just shrugged, though she had a good idea. When Severus had come up behind Harry, she'd gotten a flash of worry from the man. And anger. Fierce anger at something that couldn't be changed.
She had assumed that Dumbledore has told him about Tyls' first death and Harry's subsequent murder of Argil. As she remembered watching that moment in the Pensieve, she shivered at the rage she'd felt emanating from her best friend. Even in memories, she could sense emotions. And Harry's had scared her to her core. She had not known her friend could be angry enough to kill.
Now she did. She knew that she had not imagined all those times she had seen his eyes go black either. What could that possibly be?
"Niamh? You alright?"
Niamh blinked and looked at Hermione, who was watching her with a frown.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about that spell of mine. Harry's got this idea that it won't work the way I want it to."
"Maybe you should ask Professor Flitwick," said Hermione as they turned into the Great Hall.
"I intend to," replied Niamh. "See you later."
"Bye."
Hermione went to the Gryffindor table and Niamh scurried over to the Slytherin. She flopped down beside Mika, who was reading a book and eating a sandwich. The white-haired boy glanced at her over the top of his book and said, "Hello."
"Hi. Have you seen Harry?"
"Not since last night," came the reply. Mika suddenly looked thoughtful and added, "Haven't seen Professor Snape either for that matter."
Niamh frowned and looked around with a sigh.
"Where could they be?"
Mika shrugged then let out a surprised yelp as his sandwich was snatched from his hand. Mischa grinned at her older brother as she took a bite from the sandwich and said, "'Allo, Ika."
The white-haired boy scowled at his sister and closed his book with a snap. "Mischa," he growled after a moment. "Haven't I…"
"Oh, stop sounding like Father," said Mischa, reaching across the table to shove the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. He scowled darkly at her, the bit of sandwich bulging out the right side of his mouth. "And eat that, you look silly."
Mika looked at Niamh, who nodded and said, "You do look rather silly, Mik."
He scowled and swallowed the sandwich without chewing.
"Thanks, Niamh."
"Ever so welcome."
"'Lo," said a soft voice suddenly and Harry sat down beside Niamh. The girl nearly flinched away from him as she felt the huge amount of emotions rolling off him. There were so many of them that she couldn't differentiate between any one of them.
"Harry?" she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched away from her and wild green eyes met her blue an instant later. Shame flared in her mind suddenly and a moment later she knew.
She touched his arm again and this time when he tried to flinch, she tightened her grip.
"Come with me," she ordered, standing up. She pulled him up with her and they left the Hall, both ignoring Mika calling after them.
"Well, said the white-haired boy, "what's up with them?"
Mischa just shrugged and took a large bite out of an apple.
* * * *
"Ah doan wan' ter talk abou' i'," said Harry as he slouched against the stone wall. Niamh scowled and stormed over to the edge of the balcony, staring angrily out over the grounds. She had dragged her friend up to the West Tower, which would only allow those of Slytherin House to climb its stairwell.
"Harry, I know what you talked to Professor Snape about."
Harry's eyes whipped up to his friends back and he snapped, "How do ye know tha'?"
Niamh whirled about and cried, "Because I've never felt you have so much shame about anything else!"
Harry averted his eyes and Niamh heaved a sigh.
"Harry," she said after a moment, "you can't hold everything inside. It'll tear you apart."
"Ah'm fine," grumbled Harry.
"No, your not!" exclaimed Niamh. She walked over to him and grabbed his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "You can't even look me in the eyes."
Harry scowled suddenly and reached up to shove her hands away from his face. He snarled, "'Cause Ah killed a man!"
"You killed a monster! A monster who raped the children he supposedly cared for!"
"Tha' does'n change a t'ing!" bellowed Harry, shoving her away from him. He stalked a few feet away before he turned back towards her. "Ah killed a man, Ni. Na some rat or a spider. A man."
"And there's nothing you can do to change that," said Niamh softly.
Harry glanced at her eyes then looked away with guilt in his own.
"You killed a man, yes," said Niamh. "But…"
"Doan tell me 'e deserved i'," snapped Harry. "No one, na even Argil, deserves to die."
Niamh sighed and moved forward to envelope her friend in a hug. Harry stiffened then he slowly relaxed and returned the hug.
"Ah t'ink now's tha' momen'."
"What moment?" asked Niamh.
Harry leaned back slightly and looked down into his friend's eyes.
"When yer na a child' anymore."
Niamh just laughed and leaned her head against her friends chest.
"Harry, mate, you haven't been a child in all the years I've known you."
"Ah know," said Harry, laying his head against hers. "Ni…"
"Shut up."
Harry chuckled softly and murmured, "Aye, ma'am."
Niamh smiled into his robes and felt a sense of – right – about this situation. As though this was the way things were meant to be. She and Harry that is.
It made her feel guilty, standing there. She still loved Cedric. That had seemed right. But her, standing with Harry, it seemed like something made to last.
Before she could shake those thoughts away, she had a sudden flash of – something. For a moment she saw another moment. It was a house, a homely looking place like the Burrow. But instead of the Weasley's moving about, she saw Harry. An older Harry but Harry nonetheless.
And there was a small boy with dark hair and eyes like the sea…
Niamh was suddenly back and she was filled with a sense of horror. If that had been…the future…then she not only had the Sight but this moment, her and Harry, was meant to last.
Oh God, she thought, closing her eyes. This can't be happening…
But it was. And there was nothing to stop it.