A/N: Chapter warnings for; implied/referenced child abuse, torture, explicit language and disturbing imagery.
Next update on 19th February, Friday.
Thanks lots and lots to our wonderful Beta, Amar!
We were so so excited for this chapter in particular, in fact we could barely wait for this update, it was so much fun to write! We sure had our fun exploring inside Harry's head :)
Hopefully, you guys enjoy it as well! Happy reading!
Chapter Twenty-Six
…
"Mad Hatter: "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?" "Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice again. "No, I give it up," Alice replied: "What's the answer?" "I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter"
-Lewis Carrol (Alice in Wonderland)
...
Severus tries not to be offended by the look on Potter's face as they stand opposite each other in the living room. He looks as if he's about to face his execution. Although, perhaps Severus is to blame for that himself.
Reigning back a sigh, Severus speaks, "Relax Potter, it's not supposed to hurt."
It normally doesn't, although Severus' own mind has a tendency to elicit moderate migraines if legilimency is done without any forewarning. The Dark Lord usually takes immense joy in that.
"Right," the boy murmurs, stealing a glance at Draco who is sitting on a chair off to the side, watching them with rapt attention. His pointed glare at Severus feels palpable.
Both their wands are out, held at their sides. Severus holds his loosely, while Potter's is in a white-knuckled grip.
"I won't need to use legilimency if I can just read your emotions off your face, Potter." Potter's face morphs into a giant 'Screw you, Snape.'
Dear God, this is already frustrating.
"Try to relax your mind, and calm down. What's the worst that could happen?"
Potter scowls, "You'd be surprised." But does as he says, or tries to. The scowl clears, and most of the tension lines bleed away from his face.
Severus nods, "Alright, now close your eyes and try to clear your mind the best you can. Slow down your thoughts, and just breathe."
Potter wrinkles his nose as if he's thinking particularly hard, and Severus heaves a long, suffering sigh.
Potter seems to take offence on every word coming out of his mouth. In what world, does slowing down your thoughts mean concentrating even harder on the cause of your discomfort?
He really is his father's son at times. Well, all the time.
"Focus on my voice, and try to imagine water," he says. If Potter can't do it, then Severus has to ease him into it.
"It's all around, imagine yourself floating under. Try to imagine how it would feel, the pressure against your skin, the temperature." It had taken Severus a while to master this tactic himself, his own mind used to drift midway into the process. But water usually worked the best for him.
"If you can hear the waves, try to imagine the sounds," he continues, watching Potter's face carefully as it relaxes further, his body stilling as much as it can with the tremors still running through it.
Severus lifts his wand, and casts legilimens, non verbally as to not startle the boy out of his hopefully meditative trance.
As hoped, it is the sea he sees first. But not exactly in the context he expected.
There is water everywhere, vivid and blue, pressing on him, cold. Actually, a bit too cold. It is roughly what he was expecting, but he can also see the sunlight filtering in, and reflecting back on the corals lining the sides.
The vibrant colours take him by surprise and he reels back, twisting around to see fishes circling around him. Colourful corals coat the seafloor, the attention to detail is astonishing. He's never seen anything like this.
This is not the body of water he had described to Potter when he told him to relax.
Severus starts swimming upwards, he won't run out of breath under water, since he is not physically there, but he needs a way out of the meditative trance and into Potter's mind. The way is usually upwards.
So he swims upwards. He can feel the sunlight coming down from somewhere, he knows he's close, knows he's going to break the surface any moment.
But he never quite- makes it. It's infuriating, frustrating, and very, very baffling. How did Potter do that? Why can't Severus make his way out of the trance?
It should be as easy as shedding a cloak. It usually is with Severus and he has done this hundreds of times over the years.
He doesn't know how long he tries to swim towards the surface, until he tries to change tactics. After all, it's a mind. This is occlumency, logic doesn't work here, however much that might itch at him.
Severus takes a moment to gather himself together, staring down in only mild trepidation, at a distance which looks like he hasn't moved at all, he lets himself go lax and sink.
Potter thinking that the only solution is swimming down, is a mess he'll disentangle afterwards.
His head breaks the surface and he gasps. He looks around, and although there's water all around him still, something else Severus wasn't expecting, he is undeniably out of the water. He has no idea how Potter had managed this in the minute or so he had been given to meditate. Something so elaborate and complicated.
Off to the left, he sees the hint of a tall structure, and instead of swimming all the way to land, he closes his eyes and pictures himself on the ground already, standing by the lighthouse nestled between dark and sharp rocks.
Where are the memories?
He makes his way into the lighthouse, but the moment he steps inside he's not there anymore.
He can tell by the shifting in the air, a sudden chilling as he steps inside the dark and walks towards a strong blue light coming from the distance, there is no way that this space could have fit inside that lighthouse.
The blue light is coming from an aquarium, a full wall length aquarium that has gigantic goldfish twirling and twisting inside, regal and frightening at once. Their tails alone look bigger than Severus' entire body. He walks closer, his breath held in his chest with awe.
This is not how the inside of a mind looks like at all. At least, not the ones Severus has been in. Legilimency has always been a disconcerting experience, a colourful whirlwind of thoughts, images, memories.
Not… whatever he is seeing right now. This feels too stable, too real even in its bizzarity. This could not be real, he reaches out and touches the cool glass. He feels a tiny shift behind him and his shoulders tense on impulse.
There's something else here with him.
'You shouldn't be here,' a voice that he hadn't expected says. Severus turns but Black is already on him, shoving him against the hard glass of the aquarium.
"Black," he gasps, it's more out of surprise than anything else. How is Black in Potter's head? Or rather, a very well crafted apparition of the man, shoving him against the glass with an iron grip.
He tries to will the man away but he stays, and the rough hold is still tightening even though it shouldn't be possible. Memories were NEVER interactive. This isn't a memory, Severus doesn't know what this is.
'Get out,' Black growls in his ear and Severus turns, trying to fight back against his childhood bully. It's been a while since he's been in this position, getting rough with Black. The last time they were like this, he was sixteen.
Black's face is twisted in a furious, scorned expression, his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back against white teeth, Severus' hands tighten around the man's, as he's pressing down on his neck and shoving him backwards into the glass.
Severus feels as if he's sinking back, sinking inside the glass, he can just feel the tiniest hint of water dampening his hair and he gasps.
The hands disappear. And the aquarium with it.
His feet touch grass, Severus feels the contrast between the two surfaces immediately. He hadn't closed his eyes, but now that he opens them he blinks to a brutal source of light.
It happens to be the sun.
Severus' body was not supposed to be affected by sunlight projected by a memory, since he is not a part of the actual memory but an outside presence.
He's on a lawn.
Freshly cut grass, he can actually smell the damp soil as he steps around the house, he's not alone, he hears humming.
Severus pushes the uncomfortable churn in his stomach away and rounds the house, it's a muggle neighbourhood, the houses in a row, in front of him, are all identical. The humming gets louder.
The voice is childish, and the tune must be a muggle nursery, or something of the sort. Severus recognizes Potter's messy mop of hair before he takes in the child's face.
Potter cannot be older than seven, in this weird apparition of a memory. He's too small to be even that old, but Severus figures that the boy is not really included in his peers' demographic.
They're in a lawn, Potter is sitting by the garden, his knees are stained a shocking shade of green, his hands dirtied to the wrists. The child looks lost in his shirt, his glasses are taped.
Severus tries getting closer, but he cannot. He looks down at his feet, and to his utter astonishment sees the grass growing over his shoes. The sky above darkens and a chill that most definitely wasn't there before takes root in his guts.
His insides prickle with unease, and he looks around. The whole street is deserted.
Harry Potter keeps humming.
Severus pulls his knees upwards, trying to loosen the vegetation around his feet. This shouldn't be possible. This is supposed to be a memory.
This fact just keeps playing on a loop.
Severus isn't supposed to be a part of said memory. It's not supposed to attack him. And as if that weren't enough, he can't do anything about this, he can't defend himself or use any spells in here, lest he damage Potter.
He looks up at the sky, now stuffed with rolling dark clouds that obscure the sun, the weather feels sunny still.
Potter is patting the soil, crouched over the empty garden, it almost feels as if the boy is singing to the non-existent flowers.
Severus pauses his fight for freedom, to stare at Potter's hands, there are two small pots by his side, the flowers he is supposed to be transferring. They're rotten, overwatered, perhaps. There is no salvaging them, but Harry doesn't seem to mind that in the slightest.
Thunder rumbles through the air, but the boy doesn't seem to notice.
"You'll love your new home," Potter whispers, as if to the soil, but his head is tilted to the rotten flower. "You won't be dead. I promise."
He cannot pronounce 'r' the right way, and it affects the child's speech, in a quite common way for a child his age. Draco couldn't say 'z' until he was seven.
Harry pets the ground some more, and right before he turns to the pots, the ground blossoms under his fingers. In a flurry of sparkles and green, the soil spurts a bundle of mixed colours.
Severus recognizes the daisies, small roses, a few buttercups peppered in the bunch, and daffodils under Harry's palm. It's mesmerizing to watch, and Severus cannot stop staring.
Potter is too young for this sort of sorcery. This is accidental magic, powerful and controlled accidental magic. And it's beautiful.
The grass eases up on his shoes, and Severus starts moving forward before the humming abruptly stops. Severus pauses mid-step.
Harry looks at the gleaming flowers-real ones don't glisten like these do-and then his eyes widen in fear, pure, undiluted fright, they trudge to the porch.
Severus, in his haste to somehow come to Potter's aid, trips on the grass still bounding his ankles and goes down, headfirst to the ground, and then this memory is gone as well.
He never feels the impact as the ground swallows him.
He's on his knees on a hard, dry patch of ground, disoriented from his fall.
Right off the bat, he can hear screaming, it's not Potter's, it's more mature, and it belongs to Diggory, writhing on the ground, right in front of him.
Severus scrambles to his feet, and Cedric, his former student shrieks louder than should be possible.
"Come on baby Potter, SCREAM!" Shrieks the voice on the other end of the wand and it's all wrong.
It's Bella, of course it's her, but it shouldn't be. Lestrange wasn't present the night the dark lord was resurrected, she was locked up. Diggory wasn't tortured.
He was killed.
They're in a graveyard, Potter is tied to a gravestone and he's crying but there's no sound. Just the sound of Cedric Diggory screaming, and Bellatrix taunting him. Except she thinks that he's Potter. And Diggory's screaming, and Severus is not new to torture but he's never had to hear his own student scream before.
He still can't move.
In between the screams, he can make out Bella's high pitched, nauseating voice, "I want your mommy to hear you, all the way from heaven!"
Severus gasps a little, trying to lift his wand and pull himself out of Potter's mind. This has gone too far. He refuses to stay in here any longer until he figures out what's wrong with Potter's mind, from a safe distance.
And just like that, he's able to move again.
He tips forward into a tangle of colourful clothes and flings his arms out. The tangibility of everything here is still as unnerving as it was at first.
There's subdued chatter, coming from behind him. He's in a store. Or to be exact, they're in Madam Malkin's robe shop. Severus knows so because of the number of his frequency in this shop. And because of the robe racks.
He pushes himself upright and just stands there for a short beat, trying to get his bearings. He wanted out of Potter's head, and he couldn't. Severus sincerely hopes that it was a small glitch.
Being trapped in Potter's head feels like the extreme equivalent of actual torture.
He circles the rack, and there he sees, his godson first, standing on the small measuring podium, chin held high and his hair slicked back. Potter is standing next to him, still small, and scrawny and lost in his clothes.
They're staring at each other, their eyes intense, and Draco's slightly frightened, with the top buttons of his robes unbuttoned and his right hand loosely grasping his left wrist.
Potter doesn't even blink once.
Severus cannot tell whether this is real or not. He cannot tell whether his godson and Potter spent long, crawling minutes just fixated on each other whilst Madam Malkin and Narcissa were distracted in the back of the shop, going through robes.
Potter's fingers twitch by his side, and as Severus steps closer, he figures out why the scene is churning his stomach.
There's no lightning bolt-shaped scar on Potter's forehead, the infamous scar is etched in Draco's forehead instead, red, angry and bold against his flesh.
This cannot be real. Or maybe it is. Maybe Potter thinks it is.
"Draco, dear?" Narcissa's voice rings over his shoulder and Severus turns. He's missed that voice, and he hadn't realized he's missed it to this extent right before she spoke.
"I had this one measured for you," her non-existent shoulder brushes against his, Sev can smell her sweet perfume as she passes him in a flurry of robes. "We will collect them after we have your wand."
Draco doesn't look away from Potter's face, but Narcissa doesn't seem to care. She turns away and as Severus turns, he sees Black venomously glaring at him, his body partially shrouded by the robe racks.
"Get out," the man seethes, swiftly pushing his way to Severus. "GET OUT!" He hollers at Severus.
Sev stumbles back, almost bumping into an absent Narcissa as the other man charges at him. There's a beer bottle in Black's clenched hand.
"Black-"
"Leave!" The wild mannered man screams, "Begone! Intruder."
He wants to kill Severus, Severus can tell. Just by the manic look in Black's eyes.
"Sirius," it's not Severus who says that. It's the childish voice behind him. Black stops in his track, eyes whip over Severus' shoulder.
Potter doesn't look away from Draco. "You need to behave, Sirius," the words ring mature even as the voice belongs to a child.
"Kiddo," Black's face softens, the bottle slips from his fingers but it doesn't break upon contact with the ground. "I need to keep you safe."
"No, Sirius. Be good."
The whole situation is bizarre and jarring, and completely not possible. Severus stumbles back another couple of steps only to bump into something cold and solid. He whirls around, only to be met with glass.
A mirror.
He double takes backwards, but Madam Malkins has disappeared, and Potter isn't anywhere near him. He jerks away from the mirror's surface. There's a very thin layer of frost over it, and he can make out some carving at the top of the ornate design.
The Mirror of Erised.
He'd heard about Potter's encounter with the mirror, but after his last few warped memories, he couldn't even begin to guess at what he would see now.
Despite the fogginess, he can vaguely make out a moving figure in the mirror. It appears to be a child, perhaps a first year. Black haired and-
It's Potter.
Potter keeps a hand on the mirror's surface and wipes at it, clearing away a section of frost, before smiling at Severus. A warm, childlike smile of wonder.
Severus blinks, looking around, not knowing what to expect, almost afraid.
And swears.
All around him are the people from the Potter family, including James Potter, and Lily. There's also Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, right beside the two, standing together. Off to one side is the Granger girl and Weasley. They all look frozen in time.
Everyone who's alive, that is. And except Potter. Who's still staring at him, through him, smiling crookedly.
And then Black, Black again, turns away from Harry and towards him, the man's arm slips away from Lupin's waist.
Severus barely has time to raise his wand before Black is lunging towards him, screeching like that blasted portrait at Grimmauld Place, "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!"
Sirius pushes him into the mirror, and Severus braces for impact, despite knowing that things are supposed to be insubstantial in the mindscape. He doesn't actually expect the impact.
But when the glass shatters around him, his arms stinging with the shards piercing through his robes and seemingly into the skin, the pain feels very substantial.
He falls.
He waits for the next impact, to fall on either the boy standing on the other side, or on the ground littered with a thousand broken shards of the mirror. But it never comes. Only a perpetual feeling of falling.
And then-
It's like skidding to a stop. But only just. Right before a cliff edge. He can't actually see the cliff edge, but he can feel the very long fall, and his heart thunders.
It's like missing a step on the stairs.
Severus' breath freezes in his lungs. There's total darkness, but he can see it. The dark is tangible, leaving the sour taste of dread behind. But everywhere at once.
He can't feel his limbs anywhere, he doesn't even know if he still has his wand anymore.
Rationally, logically, he knows that he is in the Shell Cottage, in the sitting room, with Draco and Potter. Physically, he is fine, there is nothing wrong. But processing that is impossible right now. His mind refuses to comprehend that in the face of the sheer horror of where he is right now.
He is gazing into the abyss, and it's gazing back at him.
And then it's like the world turning itself inside out. He feels as if he's trying to disapparate while portkeying somewhere. The sensation returns to his body in a horrific rush of pins and needles which quickly turns to a dull ache.
And he lurches on to his feet back in the sitting room of shell cottage.
Gulping in a breath, he curses.
Harry is retching, as Draco wrings his hands uselessly. His wand isn't with him, so he can't vanish away the mess. He settles for rubbing circles on Harry's back.
Even Severus is doubled over and looks unsettled. For someone Draco's rarely ever seen without his calm mask in place, it alarms him.
"What happened?" Draco can't take his eyes away from Harry's pain lined face, "What did you do to him? Didn't you say it wasn't supposed to hurt?"
It started out normal enough, and Draco watched with wide eyes as Harry's face started contorting, and a small, thin trail of blood dripped from his nose.
The moment he got up to rush to his side, the retching started.
Severus straightens and smooths out his expression, but not before Draco catches a brief glimpse of wariness on his face, which does nothing to ease the panic building in Draco.
Severus never fucking panics. Never. Even when Mother died, his face never fucking betrayed any other emotions other than stoicism.
He catches Draco's eyes
"Calm down, Draco," he says, "Potter is fine."
It's a lie. Draco knows it's a lie. His arm tightens around Harry's back. This had been a colossally bad idea. They shouldn't have dived right into the practical part of this, should've gone over the risks and whatever the fuck legilimency and occlumency and all this entailed.
And now Harry is in pain and Severus is looking at him like that.
Severus vanishes the mess, and stalks towards them, where Harry is now clutching at his head.
"He doesn't look fine," Draco says. His face is contorted in anguish. It makes something twist in his chest. Harry has been in pain a lot these last few weeks.
Severus kneels before Potter, raises his wand for half a second before Potter flinches backwards, violently dragging Draco with him. Severus stills his wand.
Draco's other hand clenches into a fist.
He's done something to Harry. Draco, while not knowing much about occlumency to begin with, knows that this isn't normal. He hurt Harry.
His heart starts thundering in his chest as Severus reaches for Harry's face.
Hell no.
"Look at me," Severus says, he's trying to sound gentle but firm enough to jostle Potter out of his panic. "Harry, look at me."
He grabs the boy's chin, despite Draco's protests and peers into Harry's eyes, shining his wand's light into his eyes, this time ignoring Harry's flinch as Draco's heart twists further.
Is he looking for damage?
He finally puts away his wand and Draco itches to connect his fist with something. He has a vague idea of what. He doesn't know what's happening and it's nothing good.
"Look up and down, twice," Severus says and Draco can see Harry's chin trembling in Severus' hand, after a moment, the boy obliges.
He wants to rip the man's arm out of its socket. He knew this was a bad idea. Draco knew it with every bone in his fucking body.
Severus could never be trusted, not ever since Draco was old enough to understand how effortlessly he lied. Not when he lied to Draco about being a fucking spy for so long. About his mother.
"Left and right, twice," he feels Harry's agitation, yet Harry doesn't verbally protest and does as requested. He's shaken. Severus is too. And it's throwing Draco off.
"Count for me, Potter," his godfather says, "From ten to one. Do it now."
Draco is waiting for Harry to dispute the man, call him on his bullshit the way he does. But Harry looks absurdly meek.
"Why would-" Harry starts, eyes darting towards Draco as if looking for confirmation if he's hearing right.
'Tell him to fuck off, go on. Just tell him,' his eyes plead Harry's but he turns back to Severus.
"Harry-"
"Potter," Severus cuts him off, "Keep your eyes on me, start counting."
"No-" Potter says and Draco stiffens.
"He doesn't want to do it." Draco should have had the damned wand on him. Underestimating Severus is his only constant weakness.
"Draco, stay out of this," Severus barks, but his voice is gentle with Harry. "Can you do it? It's okay if you cannot."
"I can," Harry frowns.
Of course he fucking can. Severus is doing this on purpose, he thinks there's something wrong with Harry. He's… checking to see something.
Draco hates not knowing. Draco hates himself for not knowing. And he hates Severus for putting all of them in this fucking situation.
"Alright," Severus sounds too soft-spoken, to have any good intentions. He never sounds like this. He's the man who sends seventh years crying to their dorms. "Please do it, and then after you're finished, I want you to start naming your friends, full names, any details you can recall. Can you do that?"
There's a beat where Harry just stares at Severus and he stares back, and after- "Okay."
Any improvement that had happened in the days in Harry's tremors is gone; if Draco were to guess, he would say they're back to square one. Not only his hands are shaking, his whole body seems to be trembling violently. He scowls at Severus, "He's terrified, what the fuck did you do to him?"
Severus ignores him, "Count."
"Ten, nine, eight-"
"Keep going," Severus turns to him. "Has he spoken gibberish to you at all? While you were together? Has he ever done that?"
Draco is too slow to respond. He stares into Severus' face and beseeches himself to read into the expression.
"Seven, six, sir… do I need to-" the uncertainty in Harry's voice makes Draco angry. What's the purpose of this? Doesn't Severus know that Harry is fine? Didn't he see that for himself when talking to him like a civilised person earlier? Why is he treating him like a patient from the mental ward now?
"Keep going."
"He's not fucking insane," Draco snaps at Severus, "Why are you treating him like he is?! What did you see?"
He saw something. He must have. It could be anything, but it must have been something to throw him off. Draco wants to tell him that just because Harry might have weird thoughts doesn't mean there's anything wrong with him.
He's never been into Harry's head, but he's gotten enough glimpses to know that Harry is fine.
'You called him crazy too.'
He did. Draco can't be more ashamed.
"Stop this, Severus. Stop, he's fine," he snaps. Ready to bodily snatch Harry away if it comes to that. Distress is rolling off of Harry in waves, and it's contagious.
"If you cannot keep your quiet, Draco, then you're leaving. Let me do my job." The whole situation is ridiculous. They haven't even left the floor. All three of them are still kneeling on the floor and Severus won't stop interrogating Harry.
"Three, two... one?"
"You're doing well," Severus reassures, and Draco is tempted to hex him. He would if he had his wand, but is afraid of what Severus might say to Harry in the time it'd take him to get his wand.
It'll take him about forty seconds to run back and forth for the wand. Severus will outmatch him in a second.
"My head hurts," Harry mumbles, looking away from Severus.
"I know, so does mine. Look at me? Good, you're doing very well. Alright, let's list your peers."
Harry rolls his eyes, "Ron, Hermione..."
"No," Severus shakes his head, and Draco almost hits him right there with his bare fists like a muggle, "Start with the ones whose names start with 'A', you won't have to do it for long."
Harry sighs, a strong gust of air flares his nostrils, "I cannot remember every single one of them," he says, annoyed.
"I'll help, Albus? Adam?"
"Stop this, Severus," Draco bursts out again, gesturing at Harry's scrunched up face, but quickly lowering his hands at his subtle flinch, "This is shameful, you're out of control!"
"Draco… Go into the kitchen," Severus says firmly.
He'd rather burn in hell than leave Harry alone with his godfather. Especially like this, when it looks like a particularly strong gust of wind will shatter Harry to pieces, and Severus doesn't seem to care. "No!"
"Then stop acting like a spoiled brat! Don't you understand, boy?!"
"He's not crazy!"
"Are you sure?" Severus asks. "Have you been the one dealing with one victim after another in the frontline of a war for years? No. The answer is no. Silence."
Silence.
Draco doesn't do silence.
"Harry," he turns to his friend, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Draco stubbornly takes Harry's hand. "You did what you were supposed to. Leave us."
"It's okay. I'm fine," Harry says. "The things you saw-"
"You will not speak a single word of them with anyone," Severus cuts in, "Potter, I don't mean to frighten you, but this has to be done. One last thing, alright?"
Not frighten him, his arse, Harry is fucking terrified out of his mind. Draco has subconsciously started trying to tug Harry away from them, to no real success. Whatever happened during their mind meddling fuckery did something to Harry. And if that hadn't been unpleasant enough for him, now Severus is making it infinitely worse.
"Fine. Alright, whatever," Harry's hand tightens around Draco's, and it's trembling so hard that Draco's own starts to shake.
"Who tortured you?" Severus asks, deadpan, as if he hasn't just asked Harry to name the person connected to one of his worst memories.
"Severus," Draco's voice rises an octave, and he can't bother himself to bring it down even as Harry winces, "for fucks sake-"
"Who, Potter? Name the person who did it, the gender, the name, everything"
His stomach twists violently, "Harry-"
"There were several," Harry says, his voice so so small that Draco almost misses it.
"But there was someone who was always there," Severus says, leaning forward, "You know them. I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry, but I need to make sure you're not…"
"Bellatrix Lestrange. She… She tortured me, said things to me. She touched my face, and then she kept…"
Draco's insides go cold as Harry speaks, stomach sinking and throat tightening. How can Severus stand this? This awful line of questioning? And more horrifically, he doesn't seem to be fucking done yet.
"She kept?"
Harry avoids both their eyes, "She wanted to hear me scream. She liked it. She was always there. Then Rosier, and Nott, and her again," there are tears welling up in Harry's eyes.
That's it.
That's enough.
Draco stands up and yanks Harry up with him, maybe a little more roughly than necessary, but it's better than listening to this bullshit. Harry cuts off abruptly, and Severus follows them up a lot more gracefully, expression thunderous.
"Draco-"
"No, Severus. I said, fucking enough." Draco shoves Severus aside and, still not releasing Harry's hand, pulls him along, leaving the sitting room.
Up the stairs. In their room. He won't let Severus victimize Harry the way he's been doing.
The last thing Draco hears as he slams their bedroom door shut behind them is the sharp crack of disapparition as Severus leaves.
Good fucking riddance.