Rated R for swearing, violence and suicide (and/or suicide-related issues). If this offends anyone, don't read. Thought I'd add that I own nadda. All characters, names and related indicia are property of J.K. Rowling. I am merely trying to share some of her goodness in a non-illegal way. :)
Chapter 17: Near to Death and Witch Kisses
The tension was building up at number four, Privet Drive like an awaiting Filibuster Firework.
Severus Snape shook his head angrily and stalked along the corridors and passageways leading from Dumbledore's office down to the dungeons. He was moodier than he would have been at the moment because even his Floo ride had ended in disaster: he'd been so preoccupied with the night's events that he'd fallen victim to his own momentum and had pitched forwards and landed flat on his hooked nose on the hearth. Right in front of Minerva.
She had been wise, however, and didn't say anything.
The mess was almost cleaned up at the Dursley residence, but the Muggles wouldn't stop poking their noses into everything. It was becoming a very large and very annoying problem, and Snape had been called to the home right before dinner to help keep the neighbors at bay, as well as assist with the guard in case the Dark Lord decided to make a reappearance. Snape heavily dismissed that theory, however. He had a feeling the Dark Lord wouldn't show himself for a little while. At least not in public.
Daily Prophet reporters had been absolutely everywhere. If Rita Skeeter had of shown up, everyone trying to protect Potter might as well have dug their graves right then and there. Thankfully, however, she hadn't been in print since the Triwizard Tournament...and the interview with Harry the previous year, of course, but that had been blackmail. It was common knowledge among the Hogwarts staff.
As soon as Snape had arrived at the home through the Floo network, he'd remembered exactly why it was that he'd become a Death Eater in the first place. The sight of Muggles swarming the small street was nauseating and he fought the urge to cast growth spells on each and every one of the perfectly pruned and manicured gardens of Privet Drive. He'd received a warning glare from Minerva, and had taken to sneering murderously at anyone who dared to look him in the eye. Occasionally, Tonks or one of the Weasley's would make the rounds and modify a few memories...but other than that, they'd had no trouble all night except fighting off reporter after reporter who tried to venture too close to the house. Twice he'd hexed a wizard attempting to climb in through a window; he'd even caught someone in a tree. Their audacity pissed him off, more so because they didn't run screaming when he approached. He was so used to that happening, it took him by complete surprise not to even see a cower. A flicker of fear. He hated that sodding newspaper within fifteen minutes of being there; suddenly he'd sooner read The Quibbler. The Prophet already had their article on the attack, and nobody could really understand why the hell they kept prodding the issue. One thing was for certain, however: the next time Snape was forced to participate in babysitting pesky journalists, someone would get killed. His temper had flared more than humanly possible that night.
He decided to demand payment next time they made him do something like that.
The corridors were very cold. He shivered in spite of himself and made a mental note to summon a bottle of Firewhisky as soon as he reached the comfort of his quarters. He rounded a corner and took the steep staircase to the dungeon levels, the temperature dropping dramatically with every step, the echoing pangs of dripping water now all around him. His sharp footsteps resounded louder than usual around the stone walls and his paranoia began to eat at him as he descended into the gloom.
Nobody can Apparate or Disapparate inside the Hogwarts grounds...
Snape shook himself and ploughed on. He was being bloody ridiculous and he knew it. He knew that Hogwarts was the safest place to be during times like these, but even so, his thoughts sometimes strayed to other places. Places he didn't want to go again, memories he didn't want to re-live, things he didn't want to think about. And the warning Dumbledore had given him privately last June would haunt him when he was alone like this...Snape sighed as the scene played in his head again.
Dumbledore, wearing midnight-blue robes freckled with golden stars, was sitting, distressed, at his desk, his fingers placed on his temples like a worried Muggle deep in thought. Severus stood on the other side, rigid, his eyes wide and for the first time in years, afraid. On its perch, Fawkes sang softly into the tense room as though trying to comfort its inhabitants, its head cocked straight and alert nonetheless.
"Harry has given me a thorough account of Voldemort's speech and his actions," the ancient wizard said after an agonizingly long moment of silence, eyeing the potions master fretfully. "I must tell you now, Severus...warn you now...be careful. He is on the lookout for you."
Snape sighed and shook his head, ridding the memory. He would sooner store all of his past in his Pensieve so he wouldn't constantly be reminded of what he used to be...what had gone on all those years ago...but it was too dangerous. Sometimes memories like that were needed, and if they were out gallivanting around in a stone basin, obviously they would be of no use.
Suddenly the sparse hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a wave of goosebumps washed over him eerily. He stopped walking for a moment and shivered. His eyes roamed the corridor for any signs of movement, but finding none, he gingerly began the trek once more, walking a little faster this time. He could have sworn he felt a presence...
He rounded the last corner, then slowed down and squinted into the dim, almost crying out in surprise. A dark figure stood, unnaturally still and rooted to the spot in the middle of the dungeon corridor, only a little ways away from the door to his quarters. Black-robed. Messy raven hair. Of course.
"What are you doing!"
Snape strode up to the still figure and gripped Potter's shoulder harshly, his impatience overcoming him. He really was sick of this wizard shrugging off the rules as though they were something to be laughed at...and in light of their present situation...
To his sheer surprise, Harry brushed the hand away and turned around ever so slowly, his emerald eyes nowhere near as green as they usually were. At the moment they were clouded and dazed...not his. Not his at all. It unnerved Snape greatly to see Potter looking so...out of his mind.
"Sorry Professor...I didn't know I was here."
Severus blinked. This statement took him aback and for a moment he wondered whether Potter was testing his intelligence, then he was filled with suspicion. He decided to remain oblivious to the boy's apparent game. Besides, he really was very tired.
"What are you talking about, Potter? Why are you up wandering...it's almost three in the bloody morning!"
"Is it?" Harry asked, looking shocked. "Oh..."
Snape bent down a little so he could look into Harry's eyes better. Something wasn't right with the wizard. "Hello? Are you home, Potter?"
"I didn't know I was here, Professor," Harry repeated. "I'm sorry. I'll be getting back to bed now."
Potter turned to leave, but, growling, Severus reached out and grabbed one of Harry's wrists very tightly. Harry let out a grunt of pain and the absence of awareness left his eyes. Maybe Potter had been merely sleepwalking...he didn't know...but right now he was certain that the boy was back as himself again. He knew the cuts were still fresh. Harry looked up at him in pain. "Stop it."
In response, Snape gripped Harry's wrist tighter still. His green eyes were wide and fearful and he hissed. "Stop!"
"I want an answer," Snape snarled back. "Your fame will not allow you to get away with breaking rules as far as I am concerned. Get into my office...your answer better be unsurpassable or you'll have absolutely no points by breakfast."
He violently let go of Harry's arm and gave him a small shove in the direction of the door. Potter didn't say anything, but walked stiffly alongside the potions master, staring fixedly at the ground, breathing heavily. Snape didn't speak either, but Potter's presence scared him shitless. Something was cold. Something was disturbing. Something was horrible. Something was...evil.
And it was radiating from the young wizard beside him.
He shuddered and glanced at the Boy-Who-Lived, stopping at a spot just left of a painting of serpents and muttering a small spell to make the door appear. He quickly wrenched it open and prodded Harry inside, then slipped in behind him and closed it again where it vanished in with the stone.
With a flick of his wrist, he ignited the torches, candles and fireplace and placed his wand back into his pocket tentatively, unsure of if he should keep it out or not. Merlin's beard, he's a sixth-year student and I'm an ex Death Eater. What can he possibly do? He fixed his eyes on Potter, who was standing in the middle of the room, staring back at him hatefully.
How dare he look at him that way! Who was the student here? Snape vaguely considered hexing the boy into oblivion, then decided that it probably wouldn't go over too well with Minerva. Instead, the potions master rounded on the boy. "Well?"
Potter was unmoved. "Yes, sir?"
Snape's lip curled unpleasantly and he glared murderously enough to make a seventh-year cower. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your impudence!"
Potter said nothing. It infuriated Snape even more. Was this the same young wizard who had sat in this very room the night before, talking so calmly, telling him his deepest secrets? And right now he stood, staring almost uncaringly at his professor. Snape growled and rewarded him with his best I-am-going-to-murder-you glare.
"Have you gone mad, Potter? What are you doing up wandering the dungeons so early in the morning? Are you going to explain, or shall I take more points and call the Headmaster?"
Potter smiled eerily. Snape stood there, his mouth hanging open in shock. He couldn't believe this. Potter, shrugging him off dismissively. Him. Professor Severus Snape. Nobody shrugged off Professor Severus Snape. This was fucking unbelievable...he could feel the beginnings of failure tugging at him, and then he remembered the power he held. Hell, he could give the prat a detention a night for the next fifty years if he wanted to. He bared his teeth and stood nose-to-nose with the boy.
"Another twenty points! I do not have time for your stupid little games, you spoiled, insolent brat! If you hadn't noticed, in light of the present circumstances, students are absolutely forbidden to be out of their dorm rooms after nightfall. Or has that rule, along with all the others, been discarded?"
"I suppose it has," Harry replied scathingly.
Fuck.
"Do you think that your troubles are making you more important than everyone else? What are - "
"Severus, Severus, Severus," Potter said icily, his eyes flickering, backing away a little and clasping his hands behind his back. "Still as arrogant and power-hungry as ever."
Snape's heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed from within his chest and he gasped and looked at the boy in panic. A vice-like grip was building up in the depths of his ribcage and he hissed in pain. "Harry? What...?"
Onyx eyes were terrified. The man clutched at his heart and gasped for air, not taking his eyes off the orbs that were so deeply penetrating him with their black magic. He let out a cry of fury, a cry of betrayal and a strangled cry of horror all mingled into one. And Voldemort laughed. Snape gritted his teeth against it, managing not to scream.
"I have him," the Dark Lord rasped, Harry's lips moving to form the words, red eyes glowing from under the unnecessary round wire-rimmed glasses. "You have failed, Severus."
Snape couldn't breathe. He gaped like a fish out of water and felt his consciousness slowly slipping away from him as blackness began to creep into the edges of his vision. A low rumbling began to sound in his ears.
"Now you know that there is no place safe from me," Voldemort hissed sickly, stepping forwards as Snape fell to his knees in nausea, weakness and pain, his hand in his pocket groping for his wand...desperate... "You are going to pay the price for what you did."
Harry's head was thrown back and a high-pitched laugh escaped him, a laugh so familiar to Severus' ears that he shut his eyes tightly, managing to grasp his wand and pull it out shakily, about to pass out...
Voldemort was ready. "Expelliarmus!"
Snape's wand was suddenly wrenched out of his hands and flew off somewhere across the room. Harry's lips were curved into a horrible smile and he stood, regarding intently the man before him.
Severus was dying. He managed a small mumble, a croaking noise, and fully collapsed onto the floor, feebly scratching at his throat as though trying to open it up to the air outside. Voldemort leered and watched as the traitor eventually became very still.
The Lord of Darkness stood, embodied in his greatest enemy, staring down at the Death Eater who had betrayed him fifteen years ago with such hate and disgust that it transformed Harry's usually quiet, calm face into an ugly and terrible mask. His wand was raised...it would work well in the hands of Voldemort; it was basically his, anyway.
"I am going to show you what happens to those who choose to disobey me," Harry's mouth hissed, his feet moving, advancing. "I am going to delay your death long enough to make you feel pain more terrible than you have ever felt in your life. You are bowing before me, Severus...in life you did, and so you will in death."
Harry...if you're in there...for fuck's sake, please come back out. Please. I am begging you...
Harry's face contorted with rage. Began to change. Voldemort howled, his crimson eyes opening wide, the slits more pronounced than ever. The walls and ceiling shook and rumbled and bits of stone crumbled and fell to the floor. The chandelier was disturbed and the cast-iron serpents sprang to life, hissing violently, their forked tongues lashing out, the firelight reflected in their black eyeballs.
Suddenly red eyes snapped back to emerald and burned with such ferocity and intense concentration they took on a life of their own. Harry doubled over and gasped, screaming, "NO!" and then looked around him in surprise to find himself on all fours in Snape's living area.
Severus' heart was released from its death hold. His lungs filled with air and he was on all fours, gasping, breathing, coughing and spluttering. His vision swam in front of his eyes and it was all he could do not to retch. With his chest freed from the weight, he collapsed onto his back and swallowed massive amounts of oxygen as though it were the sweetest thing on earth. "Merlin's fucking beard..." he croaked painfully, his hands encircling his neck in defense. "Harry..."
Harry was sobbing into the floor, shaking violently, his scar exploding with pain. "What happened? What happened?"
Severus gritted his teeth. "You were possessed, Harry."
Harry's tear-filled eyes widened. "Merlin...I tried...I tried to tell you so many times, Professor...I tried...but he's gone now...I'm sorry..."
Snape said nothing, just breathed. He closed his eyes and his eyebrows knit together in worry and panic and utmost fury. He coughed some more and waited for the room to stop spinning.
"Be quiet, Potter," he croaked, crawling weakly into an armchair and breathing heavily some more. Just breathe...breathe...
"I'm sorry!" Harry pleaded, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, his scar a deep shade of red. The skin around it was pink, as though it were a fresh cut. Snape had the strength to gaze stressfully at him before he closed his eyes and leaned into the leather.
"How did you expel him?" He asked hurriedly, sharply.
Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I just...I don't know sir. I can't remember anything!" He folded his hands up together in an attempt to stop shaking so badly, but it did nothing. He shuddered wildly and wrapped his arms around himself instead.
"You must have fought somehow."
"I..."
Severus looked at the boy, troubled. "Potter..."
"I know, sir," Harry replied shakily. "Oh gods...You almost died."
The potions master slowly shook his head and brushed a lock of black hair out of his face. "No, Potter, that's not it..."
Harry suddenly pitched forwards and let out a cry of pain, scratching at his forehead with his fingernails until Snape jumped from his chair and grabbed the young wizard's wrists and held him steady. Harry's eyes were watering and he swayed dizzily, his face contorted with anguish. At the same time, the Dark Mark on Snape's arm burned red-hot once more and he clenched his teeth together to keep from betraying his discomfort. He bit his bottom lip and tasted blood.
"Can't I cut it off?" Harry sobbed, rocking back and forth on his knees on the floor, holding his head in his hands and kneading his forehead with his knuckles. "I wouldn't feel this if my scar was gone!"
Snape sat on his own knees across from the boy. "Potter...I need you to answer me truthfully now. Has this ever happened before to you?"
Harry glanced up, looking like he was going to be sick. "Once last month," he answered quietly. "Not as bad as this, though. He had me for about a second and then I passed out...of course, I didn't exactly know what it was at the time, but I guessed - "
"Was anyone with you?"
Harry looked surprised. "Well...yes, Ginny Weasley was. And it was about this time of day, too."
Snape groaned. "Does she know?"
"No," Harry replied at once, hiccupping. "I think she thinks she was hallucinating..."
Severus reached out and tenderly wiped the blood away from Harry's forehead, a trail of which was slowly progressing down towards his eyebrow. Seeing the red on his professor's hand, Harry ran his own hand against his forehead and stared at the liquid, transfixed.
"Possessing you must be very difficult," Snape mused aloud. "The Dark Lord's spirit is too terrible...to evil for one such as yourself."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, dragging both hands across his scar now. It wasn't bleeding badly, and he stopped.
"You are too..." Snape began, not knowing how to word it. He was in shock and his chest was aching badly. "...Too pure, let's say. Too good. The Dark Lord would have physically ripped you apart if he'd been in you any longer...You must have fought him outstandingly."
"It hurts...my head is going to explode..."
"I know."
Harry got a grip on himself. He blinked a couple of times and stared at the floor, silent.
Severus, on the other hand, was barely containing his fear. What had just taken place totally contradicted what he'd thought earlier about Hogwarts; it also proved Dumbledore wrong. Severus closed his aching eyes. But wait...possibly it was only Harry that the Dark Lord could connect with in such a way, seeing as the two were bound together. It was both a comforting and a greatly disturbing thought: Voldemort could harm no one else directly, but then again, Harry was a danger to them all the same. Severus' hands were pressed against his own chest protectively. The pressure was gone, but the pain lingered, and he found it difficult to breathe again. He sharply looked up at Harry and found him to be quite normal, besides the fact that he looked like he would keel over and die any second.
Severus stood up. Harry's eyes followed him and he glared at the man in mistrust. "You're going to tell Dumbledore, aren't you?"
"Of course I am, Potter. This needs to be stopped." Who the hell else would I tell? Hagrid? Dobby? Fuck, I hate that House Elf...
Green eyes narrowed. "What d'you mean stopped?"
Snape spread his arms out incredulously. "What do you think? Potter...we can't have you blundering about the school with the threat of being possessed by The Dark Lord hanging over your head! It isn't safe with everyone here! Use some sodding common sense, boy!"
Harry flinched. "Don't call me that."
The potions master's tolerance was dwindling very swiftly. "Oh? And why not?"
"Because..." Potter looked away, his eyes aflame with anger.
Snape sneered. "What, is it a bad memory, Potter? Something you won't talk about? Does it have to do with your dead relatives, by any chance?"
Harry glowered. He stood up too, his hands clenched into fists.
Snape didn't know why he was being this foul towards the boy, especially after what had just taken place...but he couldn't help himself now. His temper was rising and he suddenly found himself wanting the young wizard out of his quarters immediately. His stress was adding to his anger as well, which didn't help matters any whatsoever.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, gnashing his teeth at the man. "Why are you..."
"I said I am going to tell Dumbledore about this," the potions master repeated. "I want you in his office in no less than ten seconds or I will deduct every point Gryffindor has. I cannot allow you to go back to your Tower in this state. If someone was hurt as a result of me doing that, I would be held responsible."
"Why are you acting like..." Harry stammered, his eyes flashing furiously. "Acting like such an ass!"
"It is a Slytherin trait, I'm afraid," Snape shot back, smirking. "And another ten points from Gryffindor for insulting a professor. In case you haven't noticed, idiot boy, I am the head of that house." He sneered at Harry's outrage. "But look at you, Potter! Angry with me because I'm protecting your housemates! Do you want to go back to Gryffindor Tower and endanger their lives? Or are you too busy thinking about yourself to understand what I am trying to do?" Severus was shouting now as well. "Selfishness is also a Slytherin trait, did you know that? Get a grip, Potter! The Headmaster will be informed of this and if you have a dispute with that, then how unfortunate you are, because I really do not care!" He billowed unsteadily over to his desk, uncorked a flask of dark purple liquid, and took a giant gulp. "And where bloody hell did this argument come from?"
The painting hanging behind Snape's desk gave a dark hiss. Harry looked at it sharply and paused as though pondering something, then met his professor's eyes again.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," Harry replied, his anger leaving him in one swift rush. His shoulders slumped and his fists unclenched. He looked searchingly up into onyx eyes for a moment longer, then walked over to the hearth where he dug his fingers into the pot of shimmering Floo powder.
The serpent on the wall hissed again, a long series of low sounds that sent shivers up Severus' spine. It was a truly amazing language, he decided, and he glanced at Harry as he turned his head to listen to the Parseltongue. Potter looked at the painting intently and his expression became grim as he replied in a succession of intertwining hisses. The snake slithered around its canvas, all the while watching him with its beady eyes.
What, am I bloody well not here? "What is she saying, Potter?"
"I said nothing," Harry replied, chucking the powder into the flames where they leapt up high and turned emerald green. Harry stepped into them, but he didn't feel the pleasant warming sensation that usually came with taking the Floo network. He closed his eyes and muttered, "Dumbledore's office," and with a soft whoosh, he was gone.
Snape stood there, staring at the spot where Harry had just been, his eyebrows knit together in an emotion quite similar to shame. He had been terrible. Shaking his head, he attempted to comfort himself with remembering that he was Severus Snape for god's sake, and he was feared and respected as much as he was because he was terrible. He immediately cursed whomever it was that created consciences, because all of a sodding second, his was kicking into overdrive.
He couldn't deny it, he did care about Harry. Of course, he would never ever admit it (even in a life-threatening situation which would include being tortured by...well, that was going a little extreme), but it was true. He had no idea when this new feeling was born in him, but he suddenly felt differently towards the young wizard than he ever had in his six years of teaching him. Snape was just a foul person originally, and he mentally kicked himself for letting his temper get the better of him at a time like this, and with one as disturbed as Harry was. Suddenly apprehensive, he dug is spider-like fingers into the Floo powder and was whisked off to the Headmaster's office.
He wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, he immediately knew, as light blue eyes met his in an expression of utmost horror. No sleep like the night before, and the one before that...
xxxxxxxx
"Well that was a bloody waste of my time!"
Ron sat himself down moodily across from Harry in the Great Hall the next day for breakfast, his cheeks rosy from the cold. Hermione, who was reading Toilsome Transfiguration And How To Learn It, rolled her eyes and looked at him amusedly.
"So it went well, then?"
"Don't start," Ron replied, scooping some scrambled eggs onto his plate. He glanced gingerly up at Harry and began stuffing the food hungrily into his mouth.
"What was?" Harry asked tiredly.
Hermione sighed sadly. "A Quidditch meeting," she replied into her book, not meeting his eyes. "Angelina called it yesterday."
Harry groaned and leaned his aching head on a hand. "Let me guess..."
"Exactly," Ron replied tentatively, chewing his mouthful of egg before continuing. "It wasn't a huge meeting or anything so you missed the equivalent of missing one of Binns' classes- "
"Which is also referred to as nothing," Ginny interrupted, sitting beside Harry and rubbing her hands together. "Bugger, it's cold out there..."
"Angelina heart-wrenchingly re-informed us all that she and the other Chasers are only here this time because they'd decided to stay an extra year at Hogwarts to get a few more courses in including a good DADA class," Ron recited in one breath, a bored tone to his voice. "And that next year the new Captain would be picked...and we would have to look after finding new Chasers. She said she was worried because, judging by the turn-out this year for Beater's..."
"Hey!" Ginny snapped, hexing the sugar bowl to throw itself at her brother.
"Not saying you're rubbish, Ginevra," Ron said hotly, brushing the sweetener off his robes. Ginny scowled and Ron stuck his tongue out at her. "She gave us a really boring pep-talk. We didn't even get up into the air because the Ravenclaw team got there first with permission from their head of house..."
"Angelina was going bonkers, though," Ginny said quietly, looking at her plate. "She wanted to know where you'd gone and we said you were passed out in the dormitory, sleeping..."
Harry's cheeks reddened. He didn't have the energy to be angry, though, so he sat in silence, absently picking with a fork at the single piece of toast he'd thrown on his plate earlier. He hadn't eaten a bite; he wasn't hungry. He could also tell that the four were waiting for him to explain himself. Well...he couldn't. He was told not to. And quite frankly, he wouldn't have if he'd had the option.
"Oh," Harry grunted finally.
Ron looked slightly surprised, but he said nothing. Ginny sighed quietly and poured herself some coffee, nursing it with a blissful expression on her face, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug.
"However, there were cookies," Ron continued.
"Cookies?"
"Cookies," the redhead replied. "Alicia brought them."
"There's a game on the thirtieth," Ginny said, her eyes closed. "Against Ravenclaw. We have practices every Wednesday after classes and on Sunday's at noon..."
"Up until the game?"
"Up until the game."
Harry suddenly didn't feel like playing Quidditch or practicing for it. Everything was losing its appeal very fast and he smiled in a false show of excitement. "Great."
Ron smiled back brightly and went on the hunt for a plate of ham. Hermione sighed after a few minutes and summoned it with her wand, and she and Ron began arguing amongst themselves again. Harry sat in silence for a while, shutting out the noise around him, staring absent-mindedly at his hands which were placed on the tabletop. I must not tell lies appeared on his skin in thin, white lines and Harry gazed at it until he felt a slight poke on his shoulder.
"I'm not hungry," Ginny said when Harry looked around at her. "D'you want to go somewhere else?"
"Sure," Harry replied, standing up and waving feebly at the still bickering Ron and Hermione.
"You honestly try to purposefully show me up, don't you? Admit it!"
"Oh Ron, stop talking rubbish!"
"Then why do you always have to do everything better than I do? I could have found that plate of ham just as easily on my own, you know!"
Ginny surprised Harry by taking his hand in hers and confidently walking with him out of the Great Hall. Several people stopped and stared as they left, and a good deal of whispering broke out once the two were out of earshot. Ron stared at the door, his mouth hanging open.
Ginny's hand was very warm. Harry relaxed and let himself be led by her, having no idea where they were going, but not really caring. He smiled down at the curly mass of red hair.
"Blunt, don't you think?"
Ginny grinned mischievously up at him, her eyes bright. "Very."
The two emerged out of the massive front doors and out onto the sloping grounds. The sky (Harry hadn't seen it in a while) was gray but it was quite dry out. It was refreshing, the cold air against his face, and he sighed contentedly for the first time in a while.
Ginny silently led Harry down to the shores of the lake and sat on the grass, looking out over the water as the giant squid propelled itself along the surface, its salmon-pink tentacles tinged slightly with blue from the cold. Ginny still hadn't let go of his hand, and Harry found himself hoping that she never would. It was comforting.
Harry plopped himself down beside the youngest Weasley and said nothing. He could have stayed there all day; he was very at ease just being with Ginny and nobody else. It was a nice feeling, certainly welcome, and he smiled faintly as he thought.
"It's a Hogsmeade weekend, did you know?" Ginny asked him quietly. Harry shook his head.
"Were you planning on going?"
Harry snickered at himself. "I don't know what day it is anymore, Ginny. Is today Sunday or Saturday?"
"Saturday, Harry," Ginny replied, smiling sadly. Her brown eyes roamed over him for a moment and she chewed on the inside of her lip in thought. "Bugger it, Harry...you look bad. Are you all right?"
No. "Yes."
Ginny eyed him. "Liar."
Harry sighed. "Ginny...I'm fine. Really. Cut it out." The sound of a distressed flock of crows was cast eerily into the slightly windy air as they were disturbed. Looking around, Harry saw Hagrid emerge from his hut and head into his pumpkin patch.
"That sounds oddly familiar."
Damn. Harry fleetingly remembered saying that exact thing the day before when they were talking in his dormitory -
Harry coughed and withdrew his hand from Ginny's. The girl looked at him questioningly. Harry pretended to be fascinated with the squid.
"You're quiet," Ginny said faintly, gazing out at the inky black water. "You've been very quiet recently."
Well, you see, this is what's been happening...
"I can see why," she went on. "With all that's been happening..."
Harry's expression was stony. Ginny took a deep breath, swiping irritably at a few stray bits of red hair that were blowing around her face, and looked up at Harry. "I'm worried about you."
"Who isn't?" Harry replied darkly. "I wish people would just..."
Ginny nodded in understanding and leaned against him, resting the side of her head against his shoulder. Harry resisted for a split second, then was surprised for the second time in twenty minutes as he wrapped an arm around her small shoulders and pulled her closer.
And for a little while the two sat like that, saying nothing, warm against the chill, grateful beyond words for the other's company. Harry closed his eyes and marveled at the fact that he never thought he'd be doing this with anyone...and yet here he was. Mind you, he never thought his life would amount to anything whatsoever before Hagrid had come along when he was eleven. Even still he had those thoughts...he was sure that people like Snape and Dumbledore only wanted to keep him alive just so he could face Lord Voldemort and conquer (hopefully) to save wizard kind. Something out of a Muggle movie. What was embedded into Harry's mind was the knowledge that nobody at all really cared about him...maybe Ron and Hermione did, hell, even Ginny, but not deeply. Not deep enough. Nobody ever did and nobody ever would. It was that fucking Prophecy that was keeping people apt to making sure he woke up each morning. Be a killer or be killed. Face Voldemort and die, and someone else would get him later on. Probably Dumbledore. Face Voldemort and win, and the Dark Lord would be gone that much quicker. Then after that, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't stay at Hogwarts for the rest of his life, and he was confused about what he wanted to do in the future...
Providing he made it that far.
Ginny snuggled into Harry and he recalled his mother sitting in this exact spot when she was his age, just after her OWLs, dipping her feet into the water with her friends while his father and the other Marauders looked on in interest. It had been sunny and warm, and everyone had been happy...save for one person...
Harry shook his head and mentally fought off the prickling feeling in his eyes. To cry now would be brutally agonizing. He was angry with himself about the amount of times he'd cried in the past three months and he wondered how he didn't just disintegrate into the floor. His scar twinged unpleasantly and he sighed in irritation.
"What is it?" Ginny whispered.
"My scar," Harry replied. "Voldemort's never fucking happy."
"I second that," the girl replied softly, and Harry remembered again.
On a whim, he blurted out his question. "Ginny...what was it like, being possessed?"
Ginny gasped in shock and pulled away from him to look at his face. She looked at him as though appalled that he would dare ask her such a question, and then her expression changed to one of suspicion.
"Why, Harry?"
"Was just curious," Harry said truthfully. "Did you...remember anything? Anything at all?"
"No," the girl replied. "Nothing. It would come on as a sort of nausea...then I'd blank out and come back later in a strange place at a strange time doing strange things, and not knowing how I'd gotten there. But why do you ask? Is there more to it?"
Harry shook his head and looked away. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him.
"There is, isn't there?"
"Hmmm."
"Harry?"
"What?"
The girl had him then. She held his gaze like a moth to the flame and he couldn't have looked away if he tried. "I know you're in trouble," she said quietly. "I can see it in you like it was with me."
"What are you talking about?"
"You've always said how people never truly observe one another, Harry. You've always hinted that there's more to people than you will ever know. Even your best friends don't know who you truly are." She took an arm gently and slid her hand underneath the sleeve of his robe where her fingers trailed along the fresh scabs on his skin. Harry made no move to pull away or to yell at her...he never broke her gaze.
Ginny's fears were confirmed. She took her hand away and looked at him indescribably. "When did you start this?"
"Years ago," Harry confessed after a long and painful pause. Ginny looked at the ground and rolled up a sleeve on her own robes. Harry gasped sharply. Long white scars trailed up the girl's pale flesh, long since healed over. So she did understand, then.
"Ginny!"
"What?" Ginny asked him, her eyes boring holes into his. "Do you think we're all fucking immune to this?"
"When?"
"Second year, the Chamber of Secrets," she said. "I was so scared when...I didn't know what to do...I thought it was me who was attacking all those people."
Harry's eyes were sad. "But...why you? Why did that have to happen to you?"
"It doesn't matter anymore," Ginny said reassuringly. "It's over and done with and that's the short and short of it. I just wanted to...to tell you that I'm here. Everyone says they understand what it's like, but truthfully, nobody here does. Except for maybe a few Slytherins."
Harry thought he really was going to cry now, but he once again fought the urge. He pulled Ginny Weasley into a tight hug and held her there for a long time, breathing in the scent of her hair, relaxing, knowing that he had someone he could trust now. That was something he'd wanted all his life.
Ginny pulled back slightly and planted a kiss on Harry's cheek. She smiled faintly at him and rested the tip of her freckled nose against his.
"Can we stay here a little longer?" Harry murmured. "I don't particularly want to be pestered all day to do my homework."
"That's fine," Ginny replied softly, closing her eyes.
From behind Hagrid's hut came a loud, ear-splitting screech and Fang began barking madly.
"Bloody hell, yeh silly creature!" the half-giant roared. "What have I taught yeh about trying to fetch Bowtruckles?"
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Ahmad53832 - You wanted to know what Snape meant when he said, "Are you home, Potter?" This would be like someone knocking on your head with their knuckles and saying, "Helloooo? Anyone in there?" I should have had him dripping with sarcasm. Bugger, all the good ideas come to me when I've already posted. :)
