AN: Hi all. Just a quick note from me; it was pointed out to me, quite rightly, by a lovely reviewer that I made an inconsistency in a previous chapter by mentioning Hedwig when I had formerly said he was dead. *facepalm* For future reference, Hedwig is dead, it's mildly important for a later plot point so, sadly, Harry's beloved owl will have to remain in feathered heaven. Thanks for your time!
Chapter 37
The walls around him blurred, his chest constricted and his vision tunneled as he struggled to pull in air. Severus stood frozen, his knees locked in an attempt to keep himself upright and his hand gripped the back of his armchair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He stared wordlessly at the open door through which Potter – Harry, had just escaped; torn between a desire to chase after the boy and the inability to hear his accusations, however truthful they may be.
"Severus?" Minerva's concerned call pulled him back together.
He swallowed, taking a moment to ensure his voice was steady, though it still came out dry and shaky. "I will speak to him once he has calmed down." He kept his eyes on the open doorway, afraid to look at Minerva lest she see the anguish in his expression. "Goodnight, Minerva."
Severus took a step to leave but was stopped, not by the headmistress but by Albus' portrait, who was no longer pretending to sleep.
"Severus." The Slytherin looked at his old mentor and couldn't conceal the barrage of emotions within him. "He doesn't mean it."
"He does." Severus countered, bringing up his Occlumency shields so he could speak without his emotions spilling over. "And he has every right to feel that way. It is the truth."
Albus' eyes softened sympathetically. "The truth is far more complicated than that, Severus. Harry is angry, but clearly he has come to trust you."
Severus glared, overcompensating for his vulnerability with hostility. "What would you know about it, old man?"
Albus' expression turned sad and Severus felt guilty for his viciousness. "I am very aware of how it feels to have Harry's trust and to have lost it." Some of the twinkle returned to Albus' eyes and Severus wondered, idly, how it was possible to paint a 'twinkle'. "I saw how he looked at you in the meeting, Severus, Harry admires you a great deal."
Severus dropped himself into a chair, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of his fight with Potter. "He is not likely to put much trust in either of us after this."
"Were we wrong do you think?" Minerva asked, forehead creased in worry. "To tell Kingsley?"
"Perhaps." Severus sighed. "We were discreet at least. And Potter needs to know that what the Dursley's did was not acceptable, that their actions cannot go unpunished. His anger tonight stemmed more from his inability to admit the extent of the abuse he suffered." He rubbed his temples. "I have a meeting with him tomorrow, I'll speak to him about it then."
He pushed himself back onto his legs, hoping they would hold him up despite them feeling numb. His limbs shook slightly, but he remained standing and was able to hide the minor trembles from his colleague. Before Severus could, once again, bid the headmistress goodnight, the portrait spoke again.
"Speak to Harry about the prophecy." Albus insisted. 'The prophecy'; a euphemism for the worst thing Severus ever did. "Harry has the greatest capacity for forgiveness I have ever known."
Severus slammed his hand down on the desk so suddenly that Minerva jumped. Vulnerable, emotionally drained and stripped bare; rage was the only emotion he had left. "Enough!" He roared at the portrait, ignoring Minerva, who had paled slightly but wisely kept her tongue. "You don't get to manipulate either of us anymore."
He took a breath and returned his voice to its usual calm cadence. "Goodnight, Minerva." He nodded at her and walked out, thinking only of how to put one foot in front of the other.
Minerva watched him go sadly before turning to give her predecessor a hard stare. He looked regretful, though Minerva sensed it was regret more for how things had played out than for his own particular actions.
"I truly never meant for you and Severus to feel manipulated by my actions."
"Oh Albus." The headmistress sighed deeply. "I am not the other person he was talking about."
It had been a long day for Severus as he anxiously awaited his meeting with Harry, unsure whether he wanted time to move faster or slower. It felt like a stone in his gut, the tense, sick feeling of guilt and, if he was honest with himself, fear, at the thought of facing Harry again. Severus stood by what he had said about the Dursleys and he was glad that Minerva had punished them; Potter needed to see that he mattered and that there were people who would defend him, instead of always the other way around. Still, there were other accusations that Harry could make that Severus had no defense for.
He had no class with the 8th years on a Thursday, but he had looked out for Potter at every opportunity; in the Great Hall for meals and as he stalked through the corridors. He wasn't present at breakfast or lunch but, obeying the rules, had turned up briefly at dinner. Severus wanted to get a read on the boy's emotional state, but Harry sat close to the main doors and kept his head down for a good proportion of the quick meal he shared with his friends.
After Potter's hasty consumption of dinner and his subsequent escape from the Great Hall, Severus still had a while before his scheduled meeting with the boy. In order to make it through the next few hours, Severus forced all thoughts of Harry Potter behind his extensive Occlumency shields so he could actually concentrate on what he was doing.
He was grateful for Draco's meeting which proved a useful distraction for the interim hours. The young Slytherin had eventually admitted to the attack he suffered after the Quidditch game but steadfastly refused to give Severus the names of the perpetrators. It still infuriated Severus, who would very much like to use the attackers as potion ingredients – or at least threaten them with as much. He spoke at length with Draco that evening about taking responsibility for one's own actions, but not the actions of others. He tried to make Draco see that he was not to blame for the deaths and suffering caused by his father, but Severus knew it was hard for Draco to dissociate the actions of his father from his own mistakes.
"Merlin, is that the time?" Draco suddenly asked rhetorically, drawing Severus' own attention to the time. "I'm supposed to be doing prefect patrols with Granger."
They were indeed nearly twenty minutes over their allotted time. Severus' heart sank at what that meant.
"Where's Potter?" Draco continued. "He usually knocks when he arrives for his meeting."
"I suspect he isn't coming this evening."
Draco's eyes narrowed and then widened with tiny perceptibility as he reasoned through what that might mean. Severus kept his face carefully blank, but that in itself was information for Draco who had known the Professor for many years beyond just his school days.
"What happened?" Draco asked without much expectation of an answer.
Severus scowled. "Nothing happened."
"I see." Draco met Snape's aggravation with his naturally calm demeanor. "And Potter's not here because…?"
Severus sighed, deflating as he rubbed a hand down his face. "I can't tell you anything specific. Potter is… angry with me."
"Justifiably?"
"In some regards." Snape responded ambiguously.
"Right." Draco nodded. "So do you want me to fetch him or are you going to come and get him yourself?"
"Neither. Let him be."
That surprised Malfoy. "Really? Is it that bad?"
Severus didn't deny it. "I will speak to him when he is in a better frame of mind."
"When Harry is in a better frame of mind, or when you are?"
"Haven't you got prefect duties to be doing?" Severus snapped, ending the conversation.
Draco smirked. "Night, Sir."
For the second night in a row, Harry lay wide awake, unable to find a restful sleep. For hours he had tried to drift into blissful unconsciousness but had been plagued by his own stream of thought. He replayed his argument with Snape, calming down and regretting his words at some points, and then becoming incensed all over again. Then, after rehashing the same conversation another thirty times in his head, Harry's relentless brain would switch to playing video tape memories of his time with the Dursleys. In the dead hours of the night Harry was left analysing the actions of his eight year old self, wondering, if he had done things differently, if he had cleaned better, or answered back less, would his aunt and uncle have grown to love him.
Harry laid in the dark until four in the morning at which point he ignored Snape's opinions on the matter and went to train in the Room of Requirement. He had done the same thing the day before, leaving the dorm before sunrise, skipping breakfast and exhausting himself before classes had even begun. His intentions were two-fold; he could both irritate Snape by ignoring the man's commands and he could keep his wild magic under control, since Harry had no intention of joining Snape in their evening training sessions anymore.
Thursday evening Harry was supposed to meet Snape in his office since he would be there for Malfoy's meeting first. Snape had arranged all this with Harry before the Order meeting, when they had been forced to postpone their usual Wednesday evening meeting time. Harry was surprised that Snape hadn't come to retrieve him when he didn't show last night. Not that the man would have found him, since Harry was hiding himself away in an empty classroom, cloak and map to hand just in case.
Ron and Hermione had quickly realised that something had happened. He wanted to talk to them about it, to rant about Snape's pigheadedness, but that would mean talking about what the Dursleys had done. They had a fairly good idea of course, but Harry had never actually talked about it. They certainly didn't have the specifics.
Harry had done a rather good job of staying away from Snape yesterday, and McGonagall for that matter, since he didn't want to talk to either of them. He had every intention of following the same principle today, though he had the added complication of a DADA class that afternoon. Harry threw a blasting curse at the dummy in frustration.
Severus entered the 8th year common room cautiously, giving all those inside plenty of warning of his arrival. The room was quiet as he came in though there was a fair number of students present. The gentle hush of early morning business settled across the 8th Years as they gathered their belongings or acquired breakfast with bleary eyes and sluggish movements. A few greeted each other with morning grunts and as they began to see him enter, a few of the 8th Years gave him a nod with a "Morning, Sir."
Weasley and Granger were easily located, eating breakfast and drinking from large mugs found in their little kitchenette. They watched his approach across the room, able to guess at his purpose.
"Good morning." He greeted pleasantly. They returned the greeting in kind, so Severus guessed Potter hadn't yet informed them of their argument. "Is Mr Potter awake yet?"
They shared a look, communicating something silently in their expression. Granger spoke, "Yes, Sir. He's already left the dorm."
Severus' head tilted. "Will he eat breakfast in the Great Hall this morning?"
"Er…" Another look between the two. "I don't think so, Professor."
"He is not here and he is not in the Great Hall." He summarized.
"No, Sir." Granger admitted.
"I see." Severus didn't need to ask anything else. They all knew where the boy was. "I will see you in class this afternoon." He turned to leave and then stopped. "Make sure Potter eats lunch." They each gave him a sincere nod before he left.
Potter didn't appear at lunchtime either. His Gryffindor sidekicks were also absent so Severus assumed the three of them were taking lunch in their common room. This meant that the first time Severus got a good look at the boy-Saviour was when he walked into the DADA room for his class that afternoon.
Potter and the other two came in as close to the class' start time as they could possibly get away with. They found seats near the back, Harry by the window, avoiding eye contact. Their not-quite-late arrival gave Severus no time to speak to Harry before the lesson began, which he supposed was their intention.
Harry looked determinedly out of the window as Severus began the class. He kept half an eye on the boy as he paced across the front of the room, lecturing on the advantages of using more obscure charms for incapacitating an opponent. Severus wasn't even trying to enter the boy's mind and he could sense his Occlumency shield. Potter must have spent a while reinforcing his defences. Severus knew from experience that such a level of intensive concentration was exhausting, and Potter certainly look exhausted. He clearly hadn't been sleeping well and Severus would bet galleons that Harry had spent the last two mornings, early mornings, testing his magic to its limits. Harry was hunched defensively, muscles visibly tense, hair ruffled in the way that indicated he was stressed and had been running his hands through it repeatedly.
Severus commanded the 8th Years to find their regular dueling partner and get started. "Points will be awarded based on the innovative use of unusual spells." He summoned Draco to him with a twitch of his head while the rest of the class began levitating the furniture out of the way. "Go easy on him." Severus murmured quietly enough that no one else would hear. Draco nodded and moved away quickly, understanding entirely what his Professor had asked of him and the need to be discreet. He moved elegantly back towards Potter and the pair of them found a space.
It did not take long for Harry to realise that Malfoy was casting a little light. Malfoy certainly had an arsenal of inventive and obscure spells, but he cast them slow and gave plenty of pause for Harry to counterattack. Harry was grateful for the Slytherin's consideration. He didn't have the energy for a fierce battle, nor the focus to adequately control his magic. He returned the spells with equal caution, ignoring the flashy duels around them.
Harry was aware of Snape's eyes on him. He tensed involuntarily every time he sensed the Professor looking their way or coming too close. He felt exposed and angry in equal measure and he wanted Snape to leave him alone until he could separate and catalogue his feelings. At only one point during the lesson did Snape approach them. He spoke softly, suggesting to Harry a way that he could better direct his last spell for maximum effect. Harry said nothing and kept his expression in a distinctive scowl, looking only in Malfoy's direction until the Professor had moved away despondently.
"I see you and our esteemed leader are as friendly as ever." Malfoy commented when they took a break from their dueling.
Harry gave him a look and Malfoy shrugged. "I'm just saying."
Harry leant against the stone wall of the classroom and deflated. "Don't. Please." He whispered.
Draco's face fell and for once he looked genuinely concerned. "Merlin, Potter, I thought Severus was overreacting last night, but you two really have fallen out."
Harry looked sharply at him. "Why? What did he say to you?"
"Nothing. When you were a no-show for your meeting, I offered to come and get you." Draco explained. "Severus said that you wouldn't want to speak to him, that's all."
Harry breathed deeply, made a conscious decision to relax the tense muscles of his body and nodded silently. Draco was tempted to say how guilty Severus looked, but decided that Potter wasn't ready to hear that yet and soon they were dueling once more.
Snape ended the lesson a short while later and had the 8th Years return the classroom to its original state. He made no move to approach Harry again, but the Gryffindor's relief was short-lived when the Professor dismissed the rest of the class and instructed him to remain behind.
Harry packed up his bag along with everyone else and then stared determinedly at his bare desk while the rest of the class departed. Harry kept his head down, shoulders hunched, as he listened to Snape close the door, walk towards him and perch on the desk in front of his.
"Harry," Snape began softly.
"I don't want to talk to you." Harry interrupted, blunt and angry.
He resisted the urge to look up as his angry statement was met with a silent pause. Snape, perhaps, had not expected him to be so hostile, or had at least anticipated a more polite avoidance of the conversation.
"You missed your meeting last night." Harry was surprised that Snape continued to speak so gently; almost apologetic.
"I missed it because I don't want to speak to you."
"I see." In defense, Severus slipped into his professor mannerisms, still kind but more detached. "I will permit your absence on this occasion, but you will not be excused from any more meetings. They are important, Harry." The young wizard made no response, so Severus continued. "How is your magic?"
"It's fine. Can I go now?"
"If you do not wish to speak with me about it, you should go to one of your other professors for help. Your Head of House perhaps?" Snape suggested.
"I'm fine." Harry insisted at the tabletop.
"Bollocks." Snape scoffed and Harry was so surprised by the sudden change of demeanor that he looked up at the man. Severus held his gaze, daring the boy to disagree so he could list all the ways that Potter was clearly not fine. Harry stayed silent so Severus fished a vial of sleeping draught out of his pocket and plonked it firmly down on the desk.
"Drink that, get some decent sleep and stop exhausting your magic every morning instead of eating a decent breakfast. If you want me to help you with your magic, you are welcome to find me in my office in the evenings. If not, we will speak again at your next meeting." Severus did not bother to dismiss the boy. Instead he left himself, heading into his office, and left Harry Potter to find his own way out.
The cobble stones of Knockturn Alley were wet as he made his way silently across their smooth, uneven surface. His hooded cloak shielded him from both the rain and curious eyes. The presence of such an ominous figure was inconspicuous in the notorious street and he was able to blend in well with its usual inhabitants. Stealth was his speciality, and though he had little cause to practise his artform these days, it came back to him as naturally as breathing.
'The 21' was not the type of establishment to have a flashy sign above the door. Flashy signs were for places that needed to advertise. 'The 21' did not need to advertise. 'The 21' knew exactly who their clientele were and anyone who was permitted to be a part of their clientele certainly knew of 'The 21' already. Only the brass numbers '21' hanging elegantly on the otherwise plain doorway indicated that anything of significance may lay beyond.
Hanging to the right of the door was a bell to be rung by guests seeking entrance. He shook the chain to clang against the instrument's internal wall, though no audible sound was heard. Despite this, he waited with the confidence of a man who did not often make mistakes. The door opened a few minutes later, in no hurry to spare its visitor from the rain, and seemingly of its own accord since no human body appeared behind it.
There was only a straight narrow corridor ahead of him so he could not mistake how to travel on. A burgundy carpet muffled the sound of his footsteps though he had no doubt that his approach was both expected and monitored.
At the very end of the hallway an open arch led him into an elegantly designed lobby. As he passed under the frame, he must have crossed another ward for the deafening silence of the entrance way was replaced by the soft sounds of idle work and quiet music drifting in from a further room.
A skinny witch with a pleasant appearance and a cold manner approached him instantly, her wide smile displaying perfect rows of white teeth. "Good evening, Sir. May I be of assistance?"
He despised the performance more than anything else. He would not have gained entry thus far if they did not already know who he was and why he was there. He played along with thinly veiled disdain, scooping a round metal disc out of his pocket. It fit in the palm of his hand with a dense weight and was engraved with their own ludicrous symbols and epithets that he had no interest in deciphering. He gave it to her. "I am expected."
She looked at the tablet as though it gave her answers she didn't already have and then smiled more widely at him like she'd had some epiphany.
"Of course, Mr Snape. If you'll follow me."
He wondered whether he had ever taught her. He didn't recognise her, but she seemed young enough. Generally, ex-pupils struggled to drop the 'professor' from his name when they had the misfortune of encountering him again after their school years. They would not grace him and his half-blood with such a title here, however.
He was led into a much larger room, dimly lit and elegantly decorated. A pianist delivered unobtrusive tunes from a grand piano and small tables and heavy armchairs, leather sofas and circular booths provided enough seating for no more than thirty people. Not that there were thirty people there. Only a handful of chairs were filled and they were widely spaced for privacy. Despite its appearance this was not a place for socializing. This was the type of place where you did business under the appearance of socializing.
It was not the first time Severus had been here. His choice of acquaintances meant that he had frequently been a guest at this exclusive establishment though he had never been made to feel welcome. His heritage was widely known and though his skill and talent had made him worthy of knowing, but a place like this and the people within never forgot where you came from, no matter how useful you may be.
"Mr Snape is here for you, Sir." The skinny witch announced him to a balding and pudgy-faced wizard sat in what Severus assumed was his regular seat.
The tubby wizard smiled at the witch predatorily as he thanked her causing Snape's lip to curl as she walked away. "Well, do sit, Snape. Drink?" He clicked his fingers to summon a waiter. "Another glass of brandy, Johnson, and for my… guest…?"
"Firewhisky." Severus supplied to the waiter.
"Of course, Mr Parkinson, won't be a moment." The older gentleman levitated away the empty glass and both men waited until he had gone from view before they would start their conversation.
"So, Severus, you must tell me, how is life as a penniless traitor?"
Severus smiled back with false warmth. "Surprisingly satisfactory, Ormund. How is life without friends, influence or power?" He snarked back.
It got the reaction Severus was hoping for, catching the sneer on the other wizard's face before he had managed to school his features. "Do you have it?"
"Naturally." Severus drawled.
Parkinson scowled. "The potion got you a meeting, nothing else."
Severus was unfazed. "And I shall hold onto said potion until our meeting has concluded."
Parkinson sat back in his chair, expecting Snape to get to the point. Severus remained silent. Parkinson was the type who liked to fill a silence, even if he had nothing to say. Severus would let him ramble; the more he said now of his own volition, the less Severus had to coerce out of him later. Their drinks appeared on the table and Severus took his time to sip it leisurely.
"You could have had it all, Snape." Sure enough, the smarmy wizard started talking. "You would have been a trusted advisor to the most powerful wizard our world has ever known and famous in your own right for your potion creations. You gave it all up for what? To be shut away at Hogwarts teaching worthless brats how to tie their shoelaces?"
Severus didn't bother pointing out that he was rather famous anyway. "I have known a wizard more powerful than Voldemort."
Parkinson barked out a harsh, derisive laugh. "What, Albus Dumbledore? The Dark Lord defeated him."
"I think you will find that I killed Dumbledore." It was not a fact he usually wished to dwell on, but it served his purpose to point it out now.
"On the Dark Lord's orders." Parkinson countered. "He was defeated by the Dark Lord, easily."
"And the Dark Lord was defeated by Harry Potter." Snape hissed back.
Parkinson sneered unpleasantly. "Harry Potter is a boy."
"A boy who bested your Dark Lord on multiple occasions."
"You would have that boy lead our kind?" He asked angrily. "He knows nothing of our traditions. He has no respect for the order of things."
Severus ignored the blood-purist ramblings. "I would have our kind lead by a democratically elected official – preferably a competent one." Severus lectured. "Potter had no interests in politics, but you would be foolish to underestimate him."
"Potter will get what's coming to him." Parkinson said with enough sinister intent to set alarm bells ringing in Severus' head. "Are you going to get to the point, Snape or will you give me my potion and fuck off?"
Severus sipped his drink slowly. "There is some suggestion that the remaining fugitive followers of the Dark Lord could be planning and attack, something big."
Parkinson smirked. "And?"
"I want to hear what you know about it." Severus said coldly.
"Why do you ask me? You were the Death Eater, not I."
"Of course, why dirty your hands when you can ride the pure-blood coattails and reap the same rewards." Snape taunted. "You may not have taken the mark, Ormund, but you certainly bankrolled the cause."
Parkinson sat back in his chair and took a drink, smacking his lips in a vulgar manner as he appraised the traitor before him. He waved away the accusations dismissively. "You have no proof, Snape. If you did, I would already be in Azkaban."
Severus reached into his pocket and slammed a potion down onto the drinks table. He would keep his side of the bargain, after all the potion was merely embarrassing and not harmful or illegal.
"Azkaban is not the worst that can happen to a man, Ormund. You may wish to remember that my skill set is vats and not limited to the brewing of advanced and highly illegal potions."
All false politeness gone, Parkinson spat, "You and that bastard kid have got what's coming to you."
Severus had heard enough. He leaned forward, close to Parkinson's face where the despicable man could hear him hiss. He did not draw his wand, but the threat was apparent regardless. "If anyone even attempts to harm Potter, and trust me an attempt is all they will get, I will be back for you, Parkinson. You won't see me, but you will know it when you have drunk your brandy or eaten your dinner and suddenly start to feel a bit off. Then you will know." Severus stood, adjusting his cloak casually. "I think I've got everything I need. Take care, Ormund."
AN: Thanks for reading and for your continued reviews and support, they really do mean so much. On a side note, if you are looking for something new to read then check out Freedom by Potterino. It's not exactly the same genre but it is well-written and updates much more regularly than I do! It deserves more views and reviews than it currently has so I though I would give it a gentle plug. See you next time! x