Hiding Under The Ninth Earth
Book Four : A Two-Edged Sword
Part II : The Edge
4 July 2004 Continued
Perrin wondered if anything eaten in Hana ever looked good before it was cooked. From dead pig, he'd graduated to dead Opihi, which resembled nothing less than a thick garden slug, protected turtle-like by a flattish fluted shell. According to his Hana friends, who had done little all morning but grouse about collecting them last evening from the tide pools, "the frickin' buggahs are a bitch to pry off the rocks." Well, they weren't too much of a bother now; the ever-shrinking pile of them in front of him did put off quite a stench, rather like fish left out in the sun too long, but certainly nowhere nearly as bad as some of Severus' potions. Personally, he didn't see the appeal, but judging from the number of times people tried to steal the shucked ones--getting their hands roundly smacked by Ben's Aunty Nona for their efforts--obviously somebody liked them.
His mind elsewhere, Perrin's water-wrinkled thumb deftly separated the Opihi from the pearly inside of its purple and white shell; a slight flick of his forefinger sent the plump limpet flying into a clear glass bowl, slowly filling with other such sacrifices. Sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention, he'd accidentally flip the glistening mollusc straight up, where it was snagged mid-air by Kani's sharp beak as a tasty treat. This was usually followed by someone grumbling, "How come the 'pet owl' gets some?"
Sitting to his left, Aunty Nona untangled and chopped fresh Limu on an old, scored and stained wooden board. The reddish-green seaweed had looked like tightly spun steel-wool until she'd taken the clump's ends in her hands and pulled; now she had a large airy ball of it in front of her from which she plucked off bits as she needed them. When she'd offered a piece to him, he'd warily accepted, more out of politeness than any real wish to try it, and had been surprised. From what he'd seen of it in the ocean, he'd imagined all seaweed would be slimy and taste of old dead fish; it certainly felt that way. While he wasn't quite certain he liked its salty taste, he had rather enjoyed its strange crunch as it 'popped' in his mouth when he chewed it. He rolled his tongue, prying it against his molars; now if he could just get it unstuck from between his teeth...
Across from him, Kumo was thinly slicing long stalks of green onions harvested from Aunty Rina's garden. Perrin was perversely satisfied that Kumo, who might be graceful on a surfboard, would have earned nothing but scathing contempt from Severus were they ingredients for his cauldron. As it was, Aunty Nona had already lightly scolded him once for his sloppy workmanship, to which the stocky youth had muttered, "Who cares, it's only poke." While Perrin could understand the sentiment, (after all, the raw fish dish did look rather revolting, even if it tasted 'ono') he was also coming to appreciate the Potions master's viewpoint about neatness; sometimes it was really important, so why not do it that way all the time?
Next to him, Sarah was slowly peeling Kakui nuts from their thick, soft shells. He'd not known until this morning that the green balls hanging in the pretty tree behind his guardians' house were even edible. They'd picked only a basketful, and when he'd asked why so few, Kumo had laughingly remarked, "Eh, too many and we'd all shit like one mongoose." Perrin wasn't quite certain what that meant, although he had seen the small, ferret-like mammals near the 'garbage cans' behind the Chan's house. Bold creatures they were, too, barely moving aside and chittering at him when it came his turn to, "Please take out the trash, Perrin."
Over at another table, several aunties were preparing the raw fish for the poke by finely chopping mounds of ahi fillets 'Kimo's brother' had caught fresh that morning. Perrin had to wonder if that really was the bloke's name as he'd never heard anyone call him anything else. Regardless, the aunties' bright chatter, 'talking story' as Ben called it, masked the heavy silence blanketing their table.
Perrin didn't like to think himself sullen, but the unexpected news from Aunty Malia early this morning still sent a hot throb of resentment through him. Harry and Severus weren't coming to Hana. He couldn't decide what upset him more: his keen disappointment, or that Aunty Malia wouldn't say why his guardians were staying at Hogwarts. Her evasions implied their reasons were trivial, but he just couldn't imagine Severus and Harry breaking their word unless it was really important. And regardless the reasons, didn't he deserve to know? Why would she hide them from him? Was it because she thought him too young, like some infant who couldn't take his pudding? If that were the case...
Aunty Nona's damp hand, closing over his own, drew his attention away from his brooding. Dainty fingers, filled with the magic he'd felt the moment he'd met her, gently turned his hand over, revealing the crumbled powder of the sturdy Opihi shell he'd unknowingly crushed, mixed with a few spots of blood where the sharp edges had cut the pad of his finger. He flushed, realising his worry and bitterness had inadvertently spread a bit farther than in his head. She smiled at him in understanding, a light tap of her finger healing the small wounds.
"Um, sorry," he said contritely, wiping the debris off his hands. "It's just... well, you know."
She nodded, the movement making the plumeria flower tucked behind her left ear quiver. "Eh, you know they'd be here, if they could," she said quietly.
"Maybe," Perrin hedged.
"Sulky boy." He flinched at the soft reprimand.
"Do you know why?" he asked hopefully.
"No," she replied, and he could see the truth in her coffee-coloured eyes. "But I t'ink it's somet'ing serious," she added thoughtfully. "Like someone being sick. Maybe Albus had da kine, and they decided to stay with him," she speculated.
"Uncle Albus is sick?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide.
Was there no one on this blasted island who didn't know 'Uncle Albus'?
"I don't know," Perrin replied cautiously. "I think so. Severus said something about Harry taking care of him." But he'd heard plenty through the rumour mill over the last term, the gossip going so far as to say that the headmaster was dying.
"Oh, I didn't know. I like Uncle Albus; he's funny and knows all these cool magic tricks. He pulled a flower out of my ear one time when I was little," Sarah said with a shrug of easy acceptance. "Uncle Harry is cool, too," she added thoughtfully glancing at him, "but Professor Snape is scary sometimes."
More than sometimes, Perrin thought with a small smile to himself. She didn't know the half of it.
"Good dancer, though," Aunty Nona said, her eyes sliding to him even as her hands went back to their work. As his jaw dropped, she grinned. "Didn't know that, did you?"
As Perrin shook his head, bemused, Sarah laughed. "Aia! I forgot about that--last summer at Aunty's house." Her eyes glazed in memory. "Uncle Ben practiced with him at the Halau; he won't teach any of us that dance 'cause none of us are tall enough."
Severus? "Dance?" Perrin asked. He knew, of course, about the Halau; he'd gone there twice with Ben to watch, but even Kalani hadn't been able to talk him into trying it. He felt silly even thinking about it and the costumes... He couldn't even begin to imagine Severus doing anything like it in private, let alone in public.
"Yeah, it's this war dance done with these really long Kala'au Kahiko..." She stopped when Perrin made the sign they'd agreed upon when she'd said something he didn't understand. "Sticks, um, poles?"
Perrin nodded.
"Okay," she continued, her hands waving gracefully in description, "it's kinda complicated, but they beat the Kala'au against each other's like they're fighting with them. The steps themselves are pretty easy, but it goes real fast. The Professor did okay, for a Haole."
Perrin thought he probably would. He'd heard stories about the magical staves some wizards used; perhaps Severus had one. And if he did, maybe he could get him to show it to him?
"Okay?" Kumo said incredulously, putting down his knife. Stabbing the air with his hands as if he were holding a Kala'au, he exclaimed, "Ho! It was so cool..."
"Eh, you can't talk story and work at the same time?" Aunty Nona lightly chided, pointing her knife at each of them.
Perrin flushed; he hated when he did that. He picked up another Opihi as Sarah said, "Yes, Aunty," her fingers digging into a half-peeled hull. Kumo said nothing with his mouth, but Perrin noticed Aunty didn't call him a 'sulky boy'.
All too soon, Perrin's thoughts returned to his guardians' absence, and he realised Aunty had the right of it. It would have to be something serious for them to break their promise to him, although he couldn't help thinking it had nothing to do with the headmaster. Kani stirred restlessly on his shoulder and as he absently smoothed his ruffled feathers, he thought perhaps Ben or Kalani would tell him when they returned; they'd been out fishing when the news came. Whatever it was. The thought cheered him a bit.
Kani squawked and pulled his hair, his claws biting so deeply into the padding on Perrin's shoulder, he could feel the sharp tips scratching against his skin. Wincing, he was just about to berate his familiar when the owl took off with a raucous cry. Perrin watched him fly in erratic patterns just outside the lanai before disappearing from sight over the house. The anxiety he'd been trying to ignore grew as sharp as Kani's talons.
Face puckered, Sarah asked, "What's wrong with Kani?"
Perrin shrugged, dismissing the odd feeling. "Don't know. He's been acting strange since last night, though."
Shaking her head, Sarah bent back to her task. Hoping she didn't notice him staring, Perrin watched her peel the skin from another nut. He'd tried it earlier, and considering how hard the outer shell clung to the shelled nut inside, he thought her strong for a girl so tiny. He surreptitiously studied her delicate face--hapa, she'd called herself, half-Japanese, half-Hawaiian; even sunburnt, she was more ivory than brown. And exotic, with her long black hair piled atop her head haphazardly and held in place with a chopstick. She glanced up, her dark, almond-shaped eyes flashing with suppressed laughter.
His cheeks burning, Perrin turned back to his work and started shelling Opihi as if his life depended on it. A few moments later, Aunty Nona dusted off her hands with a happy, "Done!" and picked up her bowl of Limu, taking it with her to the other table of adults.
Watching her go, Sarah and Kumo leaned in close. "So... do you think it's Uncle Albus?" Kumo whispered loudly.
Perrin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Aunty Nona, who seemed engrossed by something Aunty Rina was saying. "No, and I don't understand; they both said they were looking forward to it. We'd been planning it for weeks."
Sarah sat back with a harrumph of disgust. "Aia! Adults are so weird."
True. But if it wasn't the headmaster, then what? Unless...? Perrin flashed back to the Christmas Holidays. Harry's accident in the lab. What if something had happened to one of them? Then he thought of that night... Tony! The ward they'd given him. Oh, no! Suddenly the nagging disquiet crystallized into something horribly familiar.
"Ho, Perrin, what's wrong?" Sarah asked sharply, her hand on his arm.
"I have to find Ben or Kalani," he replied firmly.
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Quiesta's unusually quiet litany had lulled him into half-somnolence, but he never let go of Harry's hand. As Severus slowly came out of his exhausted stupor, he vaguely recalled other voices, one an unfamiliar, deep bass which had harshly demanded he step aside while it removed a curse. But he never did; he couldn't, not so long as Harry drew breath.
He could feel Quiesta now inside his Harry, could feel her presence resonate through their bond; she used it in the same manner a lame man uses a crutch to walk. As she systematically worked her way through Harry's injuries, Severus tensed, waiting with dread for the decisions he was certain would come. Would he have to make the same sort of choices Ben had for Kalani last summer? Could he bear to do so?
When she finished, his mind reeled with gratitude that his participation had proved unnecessary. He barely registered her brief embrace and whispered, "Harry has many good reasons to live, Severus," before she departed. Poppy had followed, her spells more for Harry's comfort and support for knitting limbs than any further healing. She'd lingered a few minutes when done, but he'd been unable to do more than stare at her in mute appeal. Worlds of sympathy in her eyes, she'd left him with a soft, "Only time will tell now, Severus."
Finally, they were alone; he knew they'd done all they could. Now it was up to him and Harry, and he wasn't certain he was strong enough to overcome the icy fear chilling him. Calm, he must be calm. Calm for Harry. Calm for them. He sank into their bond, into them, somehow enduring the ominous quiet within and begged Harry to heal, to live.
Severus hated vigils, hated every moment of uncertainty, hated the morbid thoughts racing through his head which his heart tried to stem with a hope that dimmed with each passing moment. As the hours wore on, his mind drifted. Harry's thighs gripping his broom as he chased the Snitch. Harry's legs clenching his hips as he gave him pleasure. Harry's eyes laughing when his mouth could not. Harry's eyes shut tight as his passion overtook him. Harry's infectious grin that still made his insides melt. Harry's grimace of pain as he fell before the Dark Lord. Harry's cherished touches, his fingers trailing tenderly down his face. Harry's fists striking him while caught in his nightmares. Harry's body curled around his pillow when he left him in the mornings. Harry's broken body sprawled half-dead over a tree root, his dreams shattered around him.
Harry. Always... "Harry," he choked in a harsh whisper. "Please. I don't know what I'd do... without..."
An arm slid firmly around his shoulders. A gnarled hand softly stroked his hair before pulling him close to rest his cheek against soft, worn robes and a snowy white beard. He breathed deeply, remembering all too well this same scent, an amalgam of worry and love and dread overshadowing those lingering of beeswax and lemon and hope. It was the smell of watching, of waiting, of other vigils too much like this one, endless vigils kept over a young man with piercing green eyes, eyes he was now terrified would never open again.
He shuddered. No! He mustn't go there, mustn't harbour such thoughts, for thinking them might just make them real. Clearing his throat, he spoke, his eyes nor his hand ever leaving his husband's. "How long..."
"I've been here since you first arrived."
He tried again. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."
An old hand silenced him. "Hush. You were otherwise occupied, and rightly so. You underestimate the power of love, Severus; Poppy says Harry would have died had you not held on."
A shiver ran through him. "He may still yet," he murmured.
The voice soothed, "I wouldn't say that, my dear boy. I've always had faith in you."
He knew that. He'd always known it. Always counted on it. But had he ever...? "Thank you," he whispered.
Albus said nothing but stayed with him for a long time while he talked to Harry. Whether he spoke the pleading words aloud he'd never know, for he knew Albus would never say, would never mention he'd embraced him as a beloved son, giving silent comfort and support when Severus had needed it most. And sometime later, when he knew not, he found himself alone again with his Harry. Truly alone, as he needed to be, his upper body stretched upon on the bed, his lips near Harry's hand. Still holding onto Harry. He was so tired; he could sleep a little while, why now he didn't know, nor did he question it. His lids heavy, he succumbed to his weariness, his thoughts and dreams only of Harry.
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His chest on fire, Harry groggily awoke in the depth of the night, when dreams turn real, with the secure feeling of one long fingered hand sunk in his hair, the tips touching his scalp, the other, pale and elegant in the candlelight, holding his as it lay still on the covers. Moving his eyes, he saw his exhausted spouse slumped forward in a chair by the bed fast asleep, his head on his arm, the inky hair spilling softly across Harry's wrist. With a deep feeling of déjà vu, Harry remembered that other time so long ago when he'd found himself in this same position, his feelings as yet unspoken, and how he'd so very much wanted to touch Severus' hair, of what he'd later wished he would have seen in Severus' eyes had they opened.
With a weak grin, he realised there was no reason he couldn't touch him now and, summoning the energy and breath, he ignored the stiffness and sharp pain to finger the soft, oily strands. Severus jerked awake, and the love and worry shining in his eyes gave to Harry everything his younger self had ever hoped.
Severus' hand tightened almost painfully on his as he croaked, "Harry?"
He had just enough left in him to stroke his thumb across the back of Severus' hand as he whispered, "Severus, love. Seems wishes can come true," before plummeting back into the shadows.
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They found him first. Perrin had been asking Charlie if he'd seen Ben or Kalani when a broad hand grasped his shoulder. "Eh, looking for me?" Kalani asked, his easy smile belied by his serious eyes. Before Perrin could reply, the hand squeezed in warning as Kalani added, "Well, here I am. Come. We need to move the nets."
When Charlie and his boys offered to help, Kalani eagerly accepted and led the way to the tide-line where Ben and Malia stood facing each other by a jumbled pile of bulging nets lying neglected at their feet. If the flat line of Malia's mouth and Ben's drawn brows were any indication, Perrin would guess they'd been arguing.
"Ho! Good catch, brah," Charlie commented, easily swinging one of the nets over his shoulder. His two sons struggled with the second one, fuller than the other, but none of the men made a move to help them. With their burdens settled, they laughingly talked a while about the catch and how best to cook it. After a forever discussion over the merits of various people's grills, which Perrin impatiently ignored, some decision was obviously reached as Charlie and sons eventually left to join the large group of people cooking on the beach.
Perrin thought he would burst. "Why aren't they coming?"
As Ben drew breath to speak, Malia interrupted, "Now, Perrin, we've already discussed this--"
"No!" he shouted, his voice drowning hers. When he saw Kalani wince, he lowered the tone, but not the insistence. "Something's happened, something bad; I can feel it." He turned to Ben and Kalani, completely ignoring the older woman. "Why Aren't They Coming?"
Ben glared briefly at his mother-in-law and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not here, Perrin. Wait until we're inside the house."
Perrin nodded, even though he didn't like it. "All right," he said sullenly as the four of them set off in an uncomfortable silence across the sand. Black sand to match his black mood, he thought, ignoring the stares of those they passed. Halfway up the stairs to the lanai, Kani flew off the back of one of the chairs, landing neatly on Perrin's shoulder. Somehow the owl's presence made him feel better, less alone. As he passed her sitting with the other aunties, Aunty Nona patted his arm and smiled in encouragement. Her questioning eyes caught Malia's and she frowned. When Malia shook her head, Perrin wondered what that was all about, but quickly dismissed it as Ben opened the door to the house.
The latch had no more snicked behind them when Ben held up his hand for silence, his eyes straying to Malia before returning to Perrin. "I'm sorry we weren't here when the message came through; you should have..." He hesitated and shrugged. "Never mind, it's not important now." He took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing. "There's been an accident--"
"Who?" Perrin interrupted, his fear so barely held in check, he could feel his magic dance along his skin. Kani trilled softly in his ear, a timely reminder, and he fought for calm and control. He glanced at Kalani, wincing inside at his stony expression so like Severus' when he'd let his mouth get ahead of his brain. "Sorry. Go on."
"Harry's been hurt, and Severus--" Ben stopped as if he couldn't find any more words.
Waiting this time to make certain Ben was done speaking, Perrin asked, "What happened?"
Ben replied with a sigh, "I'm not sure. International Floo calls are notoriously unreliable so Albus had to be brief. All he said was that Harry crashed his broom in the Forbidden Forest."
Why would Harry fly there when he had the whole Quidditch pitch to practice in? Was Ben was holding something back? He gritted his teeth against his mounting frustration and asked, "Is he all right?"
"We don't know," Kalani answered after a quick glance at Ben. "All we know is that Severus brought Harry back to the castle and they called in some specialists, but they'd only just arrived at the time." He paused before adding, "But he did say it's serious."
Perrin was trying to keep his voice reasonable, but these slow, half-answers were maddening, especially since they came from the two people he'd thought would be honest with him. "Have we heard anything since then?"
This time, the look the three of them exchanged was so blatant, the roiling in his gut blossomed into a full-blown anger. "I'm not an infant! Please, tell me. I need to know." He took a shuddering breath. "Is Harry going to die?"
Again there was that look between them. Malia began, "The Floo failed half-way through, which is why I didn't--" She stopped as Ben cleared his throat loudly and stared at her, his arms folded across his chest. Making a noise of disagreement, Malia admitted reluctantly, "They don't know; he's still unconscious."
This time, finally, he'd got the full truth, and it scared him. "I want to go home."
Malia dismissed his request with a wave of her hand. "You should stay here, Perrin," she said reasonably. "Severus is with him and he's in the best of hands. There's nothing you--or any of us, for that matter--can do right now, except get in the way."
That did it! Perrin was only half-aware when he stepped forward into her personal space. "Harry's mine, too!" he shouted. "So is Severus!" Stunned, Malia could only gape. "I want to be there... Now. I can't leave them alone. They didn't leave me alone. They took care of me. Don't you understand? I need to go home." He tried to swallow a sob, but it came out half-choked. "Severus shouldn't be alone... He didn't leave me alone... Alone is... awful..." It was too much, and he was too far from home, and he didn't know...
Perrin dropped his face in his hands and turned away, his shoulders shaking. For one long moment the three adults stood stock still, each lost in their separate thoughts, but after an instant's communication held between locked eyes, Ben and Kalani reached out to Perrin.
Ben drew him close, relieved when the boy's too-thin arms wrapped around his ribs and held tight. Kalani stroked Perrin's hair awkwardly, and they let him cry. Their eyes met over the boy's head and Ben listened hard.
Something inside Ben whispered the boy grieved for far more than just Harry or Severus. Something sent from Kalani said Perrin needed this purging as much as he needed to go home. And they both hoped Malia could see this now; it was right that Perrin be there with Severus, that he share this crisis with the only family he had left. They were only Hanai, not true family, not yet anyway, and the only means they had to prove it to him was to let him go.
It was little effort for them to walk the boy to the sofa, still held fast, the wracking sobs eventually softening into minute shivers and half-gulped hiccups. Sitting on his other side, Kalani rubbed small circles on Perrin's back until he seemed calmer.
Raising his puffy face to them, Perrin murmured, " 'M, sorry--"
A light touch on his mouth stopped him. "It's all right, Perrin. You should never apologise for caring, okay?"
"All right," he said after a long pause.
Malia came back in the living room from the pantry, Joseph with her; Ben wondered when she'd left and realised she must have used the Floo they'd recently installed there. He held her gaze until she shrugged, seemingly indifferent, but he knew she still strenuously objected to what he was about to do. But no matter; it wasn't her call, it was his and Kalani's.
He sighed. He'd been appalled to learn they'd not told Perrin the full truth. After this was over, he was going to have a long talk with her. Just because she'd left her own children with Hanai parents did not necessarily mean she knew how to go about it herself. She needed to learn this was not her child and that Perrin's guardians' wishes were paramount over her own inclinations. A lesson he needed to remember as well. She'd learn. They all would.
But for now, he turned back to the boy gazing at him with such trust. Amazing he could still do so after all he'd been through. "It will take a few minutes for Joseph to set the Portkeys; we'll have to go in stages. I'll go with you to see you there safely and to gather any news I can. In the meantime, let's get you packed."
"All right, Ben," Perrin said softly, pulling away. Darting back, he planted a quick kiss on his and Kalani's cheeks. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, eyeing his husband as he stood beside Perrin.
Kalani placed his hand on Perrin's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "We'll get this right--someday." He held out a hand to Malia while Joseph walked into the kitchen to fetch some likely objects for the Portkeys. "Now, where'd you stash your suitcase?"
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Bleary-eyed, Severus stared at Perrin uncertainly, but only for a moment; the stark fear he witnessed in the boy's red-rimmed eyes was too reminiscent of his own for him to stay distant. Still holding Harry's hand, Severus held out his free arm, his robe sweeping with the motion. Perrin hesitated only a second before stepping to his side, allowing himself to be engulfed within the voluminous folds of soft fabric. Holding the boy's trembling body close to his side, Severus mutely thanked Ben standing slightly behind him.
Ben clasped his shoulder, the brief contact warm and laden with everything Severus liked about him. Moving away to stand by a nearby chair, Ben said quietly, "If you don't mind, I'd like to wait with you for a while." He paused and Severus could see the concern lining his face as his eyes flitted beyond him to the bruised form on the bed, the silence between them filled by the wheezing that punctuated every slow breath Harry took. When he nodded, unable to gather the words he needed, Ben met his gaze and smiled his understanding. "Thank you. They're not expecting me at home right away."
At Ben's words, Perrin stirred; Severus loosened his hold, chagrined he'd held the boy so tightly. Eyes that had been staring at Harry lying so still on the bed, turned to him, searching his face as he asked in a small voice, "Tony?" a host of horrors summed up in that one name.
"I'm not certain. I believe so, but I never did see Harry's assailant clearly," Severus answered him hoarsely.
"Tony did this," Perrin said quietly with deep conviction.
"How...?"
"I can smell him."
Severus sniffed. Perhaps the boy was right. They wouldn't know until Harry awoke. When Harry awoke.
Reluctantly releasing Perrin when he pulled away, Severus watched him hesitate before resolutely walking to the other side of the bed. He pulled a chair close and carefully took Harry's other hand. Only then did he look over Harry's still form to acknowledge Severus' intent gaze. Dry-eyed, he nodded to Severus, the gesture oddly adult.
Severus inclined his head in reply. Together, then, and they turned their attention to bringing Harry safely home, too.
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TBC