"Professor, where's Draco?"
"I don't believe that is any of your concern, Mr. Potter," Snape maliciously spats.
"Please, sir," you beg. "I fear he's done something terrible."
It is right before the leaving feast, and you haven't seen Draco since breakfast, who looked considerably distraught after receiving a certain piece of post. You soon find out that it's a summons from his father to attend a meeting.
THE meeting.
You don't think that Lucius is stupid enough to believe that Draco's the same arrogant, naive child he was when he first arrived at Hogwarts. You're certain Lucius knows that Draco has turned to the side of Light.
So when Draco flees breakfast early, your first instinct is to follow, but a hand lies heavy on your shoulder as Dumbledore whispers in your ear. "Let him go."
You turn around, shooting him an outraged look.
"Let him go? You're just going to let him go? He's going to die, Professor, when they find out he's not on their side."
After speaking with Snape that night, you watch students gather in the Great Hall. You know what you must do. You have to go to him. You can't just let him go...
Something draws you toward the side of waking, and you hear faint voices, though don't dare open your eyes. You're on something soft, and the warmth of a body near you makes you even sleepier than you already are.
"I can still feel angry energy all round him."
"Is that normal?"
Dumbledore simply says, "Normal for Harry?"
"Point taken."
The voices standing over you fade into incoherent babbling as sleep takes over once more.
This time, when you wake, you feel only one presence looming over you. You carefully open your eyes, and see a dark figure sitting in a chair, chin resting on his chest, sleeping in what looks to be a very painful position. Snape's greasy hair falls over his face, though you can see that his forehead is wrinkled in either confusion or pain.
You try to call out to him, but it comes out in a painful hoarse whisper. You have to clear your throat to try again, but the act of doing so wakes him up.
You see him start awake and look around. You do so as well. Thankfully, you're still in your house, in your own comfortable bed. After all that green light you saw, you were sure you'd be in St. Mungo's, or at least the hospital wing at Hogwarts.
He carefully places a hand on your shoulder and moves up close to your face. You can feel his warm breath wash over your face, as if some sort of warm draught caught through the window. You close your eyes, drawing in the familiar spicy scent as he runs a hand over your forehead, smoothing your unruly hair back.
"Harry."
You open your eyes, and complete confusion washes over you. Did he just call you by your forename?
You clear your throat again, to see if maybe you can answer him back, but it turns into a hacking, painful coughing fit instead. Snape does not linger, and has a glass of water for you immediately. You gratefully take it and start to gulp the wonderfully cool liquid, but before you make a complete mess of yourself, he pulls it down from your mouth.
"Slow sips, Mr. Potter. You will make yourself sick."
You obey, and eventually the glass is empty.
"What happened?" you ask.
He takes the glass from you and sets it down on the cest of drawers next to your bed. There's a sad look in his eyes, though you're not quite sure if he is sad for you, or because of you. This is a softer side of Snape you've never seen before. It's foreign and terrifying, but somewhat comforting to you, knowing that he's capable of feeling it.
"Perhaps I shall call Albus in here. He'd want to..." he starts.
"No! I want to hear it from you. I want you to tell me what happened" you warily demand.
He sighs uncharacteristically, and brings his hand up to rub his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Just how long have I been out? you start to wonder.
"Lucius Malfoy is dead, Mr. Potter," Snape says stoically, pulling himself together at the last minute. You almost sense a bit of anger, but any trace of it, if it was there, is gone now.
"How...I..."
"I cannot explain what happened, as I am at a loss myself. But I do believe you both cast curses at the same time."
You shake your head in disbelief. By all rights then, you should be dead.
"But how...?"
"I do not have the answers to your questions, Harry." That's the second time he's called me that! "Though I believe that Albus might."
There's something Snape's not telling you. You can tell by the way that he won't look you in the eye when he speaks to you.
He excuses himself, mumbling something about making tea, and a potion to brew, and he leaves the room. You mean to follow him, but as soon as you start to move to sit up, your muscles protest and scream in agony.
Dumbledore sweeps in, with Madam Pomfrey behind him. She chastises you for moving, of course. But after her assessment of your physical well being is complete, she leaves you with Dumbledore. You have a feeling the exam is not yet over.
"Professor Snape told me that Malfoy is dead," you start.
He nods, the twinkle gone from his eyes.
You close your eyes in frustration, and rest your head against your headboard. "Please, just tell me what happened. I could tell...there's something else. Something Professor Snape did not want to tell me."
A small sigh escapes the older man's lips, and sadly, Dumbledore states, "There was another death, Harry."
"Oh, God..." you say, burying your head in your hands.
"Someone was standing outside the window. The force of both curses combined shattered the windows of the room, and traveled outside the walls. I'm so sorry, Harry."
There are already tears in your eyes. He doesn't even have to say who it is. You already know, because there was only ever one person who travelled past that window on a near daily basis.
"Young Aidan is gone."
No. You can't believe this. Just a few weeks ago, you were the Superman in Aidan's eyes.
Now...
Oh God.
You are responsible for taking the life of an innocent child.
Dumbledore places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you jerk away from him, despite the pain that the movement causes you. "Get away!"
You never hear Snape enter the room, but you feel a dip on the other side of your bed, and that same hand that comforted you once before is there on your back again, slowly rubbing circles as you sob into your hands. Snape puts another hand on your shoulder, and that's all that you can take.
You nearly leap out at him and bury your head in his shoulder, wrapping bony arms around his neck. He's startled, obviously. You would be, too, if Snape had suddenly launched himself into your arms. He quite obviously doesn't know how to react, because for a long while, his arms are open, not touching you at all. But after a few moments, you think he realises that you aren't going anywhere for a while, and he puts an arm around you.
Your crying subsides after a while, but you don't want to move from this space. This comforting space in Snape's arms. The whole notion of being comforted like this is foreign to you, but you don't want it to stop.
You are responsible for taking the life of an innocent child.
You are responsible for taking the life of an innocent child.
YOU are RESPONSIBLE...
Snape settles you back into bed, and asks you if you need anything, before leaving the room, cracking the door open like a five-year-old who is afraid of the dark. He's taken a parental role with you now. It's quite strange to see him like this.
You can hear them whispering down the hall, neither of them bothered to cast a silencing spell.
"You did not tell him everything," you hear Snape say.
"I could not, Severus. This is too much, even for him."
"Oh, please. He is not eleven anymore, Albus..."
"He has been through enough for one night." Dumbledore says, in a final tone.
You hear Snape sigh, and the whoosh of the floo. The floor creaks as Snape stands near the door. He seems to be deciding whether or not to enter.
"Professor," you call out to him.
He enters, lines of worry on his face.
"Do you need anything, Mr. Potter?" He sounds so tired.
"Um...how long have I been...?"
"Nearly a week," he answers.
"A week! But...what..." you stammer.
"Do not worry. The funeral is tomorrow afternoon. I am sure you will be up to attending..."
You turn away, the thought of it is enough to make tears well up in your eyes again. "I don't...I can't face Andrea...what will she think...?"
"Ministry officials modified her memory shortly after the incident. She thinks it was a lightning storm that struck her son."
"A lightning storm?" you ask in disbelief.
"It is not far from the truth."
The pregnant silence that fills the room is deafening. There are so many questions that are running through your head, but you can't find the courage to voice them. So much for retaining those Gryffindor qualities...
"I'll have Madam Pomfrey bring a tray up for you shortly. You should eat and then rest."
"I'm not hungry, and I've been resting for a week."
"You should at least try to eat something."
You nod. "Erm...will you stay?"
"And do what?"
You shrug. Read the telephone book for all I care. Anything so that I'm not left alone with my thoughts again...
"Tell me exactly what you saw."
He crosses the room and takes up the chair that hasn't left your bedside.
"Where would you like me to start?"
"After I passed out," you say.
He clears his throat and begins.
"I was able to block most of the residual effects of the curses, and there were a lot. After the last effects had worn off, I went to you to see if you...to check on you. I had assessed that you were still breathing, and then went to Lucius to make sure he wasn't. It was then that I noticed the damage outside the window. I flooed Hogwarts, and then the Ministry. The officials came, cleaned up the mess, and the rest, as they say, is history."
You look down at your shaking hands and can't help but wonder what's going to happen now. Snape seems to read your mind.
"There will be no trial, Mr. Potter. It was clearly self-defence."
You nod. Though it doesn't seem to settle you.
"Thank you," you whisper, a cry stuck in your throat.
He stands, putting a hand on your shoulder and walking to the door.
"Erm...I'd like to have a bath...before I eat. Could you..."
"I'll inform Poppy to delay supper. Do you need assistance?"
"No, I...think I'll be okay."
He nods curtly and leaves, as you slowly make your way out of bed.
Today is the funeral. Aidan's funeral. You adjust your tie in the mirror, and run a hand through your hair, muttering, "I can't do this." You leave with Snape and travel the muggle way on the Underground.
The muggle cemetery is littered with people, and you stand at the back, Snape right next to you. Andrea obviously hasn't noticed you yet. You're afraid of what's going to happen when she does.
Several wizards leave the ceremony early, walking past you, you can hear their conversation.
"What a sad day. Poor lad never made it to Hogwarts."
"Ah yes, only five more years. No doubt he would have been a Gryffindor."
"Really? Aidan's always been a smart boy. I'd have pegged him for a Ravenclaw."
"Hm, guess we'll never know."
You glance up angrily at Snape, who won't even look in your direction.
"You knew?" you angrily demand. "You knew he was a wizard?"
"Harry..."
"No. Just...no."
You walk away from him, and down the street to catch a cab.
Does it really matter now, if Aidan was a muggle or a wizard? Did it matter before? Would you have treated him differently? Or is your anger based more on the fact that it's just another piece of the puzzle that Dumbledore never mentioned?
You stop before you can even spot a cab, because you don't know where you're going to go. You turn around and see that everyone is dispersing to their cars. You see Andrea catch a glimpse of you, but that only makes her cry harder.
You don't know why, but your feet are carrying you towards her. You stop her, catch her eye and stumble over your words. "Andrea, I am...so sorry. I..."
She crumbles. "Oh, Harry..." she says, and you can see the gratitude in her eyes. She's being ushered into a car, and you watch Snape watching you as he stands at the back, away from everyone.
It's unsettling how numb you feel suddenly.
You're sick that night. Violently ill, in fact. You don't even make it out of bed when that night's supper comes back up to revisit you. Madam Pomfrey and Snape both rush in, though both try not to make a big deal out of it. More than likely for the sole reason of keeping you calm. Though you can tell that something is clearly wrong.
Between all the heaving now, you draw in a shaky breath and say, "I can't breathe."
"We need to get a stomach settling potion in him," she says over your head.
"And how do you plan on doing so?" Snape questions. A good question indeed. You can't stop dry heaving, even though your lungs are screaming for air.
"Please," you gasp, tears falling. "Make it...stop..."
"Just trust me," she says. "Go, Severus. Now."
You hear him run out of the room. The mere notion of Snape running is enough to make you want to laugh. And you would, if it weren't for the fact that you can't even breathe.
Pomfrey is wiping the back of your neck with a cool rag and Snape hurries back in the room.
She uncorks the bottle and waits for you to stop heaving and as soon as you take a breath, a vial is being poured down your throat. She takes it away, and covers your mouth with her hand as you try your best to swallow.
But you can feel the liquid coming back up. She commands you to swallow and you do.
You wait.
A whole minute passes without heaving, and you're finally breathing again. She removes her hand from your mouth, and you sink to the floor, curling up in a ball, taking deep, grateful breaths.
The entire episode has left you weak. So weak that Snape has to lift you up to place you back into bed.
You're bordering on unconscious, but you can still make out their conversation.
"What happened?" Snape asks the nurse.
"I can't be certain until I run some tests," she says quietly, "but it might have been delayed effects of what happened that night. It could just be some sort of flu. Or it could be mental."
"Mental?" Snape questions.
"A stress reaction. He's been through a great deal, Severus. He has to deal with it somehow."
You can tell that he's thinking, but he leaves the subject alone. "I'll go brew some more stomach settling potion, just in case."
"Mm. I have a hunch he won't be needing it, but if it will give you something to do besides pace in your room all night, then by all means."
The funny thing? You can practically hear him roll his eyes as she leaves the room.
The strange thing...he doesn't leave the room at all. Instead, he watches you until you fall into a restless sleep.
You feel loads better in the morning, though your stomach feels like someone's used you as a punching bag. But you sort of expected that.
Madam Pomfrey brings you breakfast in the morning, despite your protests of being able to get out of bed and up and around. You're not an invalid, you argue. Though, of course, she wins.
Breakfast consists of runny porridge and dry toast.
"I'm fine, really. I think whatever it was is gone. I feel brilliant. How about some eggs?"
She looks at you sternly and says if you're a good boy you can leave the room later.
You pull out your best Snape Sneer as she leaves the room.
You eat unceremoniously and get out of bed to go wash your dishes up yourself. Snape is sitting at the kitchen table reading the Daily Prophet and sipping tea. He looks up at you like he's seen a ghost.
"You're up," he states.
"Yes. I am."
"You're feeling better, I assume."
"Loads, thanks."
As you wash, you look out your window to see Andrea walking out of her house, carrying a box full of toys. You can't imagine what it would be like to lose not one, but two children.
You hear Madam Pomfrey scoff behind you. "Out of bed, when I specifically told you..."
"That if I were a good boy, you'd let me out of the room. And I was. And I'm fine. So really, you must have things you have to be getting ready for the new term."
She eyes you for a minute, does a quick assessment, then mumbles something to Snape you can only assume was "Call me if you need me."
You're finished with your dishes, and are about to leave the room, when Severus grabs your arm.
"Where are you going?" he asks you.
"I'm going to use the floo to speak with Dumbledore."
"Professor Dumbledore is rather busy, Mr. Potter. I'm sure he doesn't have time to chat."
Oh, so we're back to that now are we?
You brush past him and go to the floo anyway. Throwing some powder into the fire, you call for Dumbledore's office. He asks you to step through and offers you tea as you brush soot off of your clothes. You decline, getting right to the point.
"I want you to tell me everything you've been keeping from me."
He looks at you, motioning for you to sit down, but you refuse. It's your way of gaining control of the situation.
"Harry..."
"No. Remember the end of fifth year?"
He closes his eyes. "Of course I remember."
"No more death, Professor. No more death because of something you didn't feel necessary to tell me."
He sighs. "Aidan Calloway was on the list to attend Hogwarts in 2002. His parents are muggles, as you know. They were unaware, and remain so to this day, of Aidan's gifts."
"Are you going to tell them?"
"Do you think it matters now, Harry?"
You take a sudden interest in your feet. "I would want to know...if he were my son."
"But he is not, Harry. You must not take responsibility for young Aidan's life. It was as much Lucius' magic as it was yours."
You shrug, wanting to believe that.
"Anything else I should know about?" you ask quietly, still refusing to meet his eyes.
"I have a scar in the shape of the London Underground..."
He stops when you look up, wincing.
"I truly am sorry about this, Harry."
You sigh, one more thing on your mind. If Lucius knew where to find you, then surely... "Do you know the whereabouts of Bellatrix Lestrange?"
He looks you squarely in the eye and simply says, "Yes."
Without breaking away from this little staring contest you're having, you utter, "Tell me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Your safety is not in jeopardy, Harry..."
"My safety wasn't my main concern, thank you. Tell me where she is."
"She's dead."
"You really are a horrible liar, Professor."
"Harry, please..."
"I'm not going to go after her, if that's what you think."
"You are a terrible liar, as well, Harry," he says, a sliver of a smile forming on his face.
Touché.
"There is still something you aren't telling me."
"There are a lot of things I'm not telling you, Harry."
"You know, with everything that's happened in the past, you'd think that you'd learn from it."
"And I could say the same for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pile of paperwork with my name on it."
You floo back to your house, completely defeated and strangely exhausted. Snape is there waiting, questions in his eyes. You beg off, saying you are in need of a nap, and he lets you go.
You have a strange dream, consisting of shadows. It's enough to make you thrash around in bed a bit, apparently. Because when you wake, you feel Snape is holding you down. You're breathing heavily, and when he sees you are awake, he hesitantly lets go.
But in one swift movement, you bring him back down, crashing your lips together. Much to your surprise, he's kissing you back. And what's really screaming in your head is one single thought.
You're kissing Severus Snape.