Author's Note: Hello again! Thanks for hanging in there, guys. Here's the next chapter. Now, I'm off to do homework!
Harry hit the slightly padded floor of the Room of Requirement and groaned. He had pushed himself a little too far this morning. It didn't happen often; he knew that there would be no one to pick him up should he fall and not be able to move. His teacher had set him on his feet more than once and pushed him to the brink of exhaustion and beyond. Harry batted away thoughts of his teacher. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the man. Yes, the training had been useful and had saved a great many lives (including his own), but the method of instruction left a great deal to be desired. After his teacher had discovered a few things about Harry's past and family, well, he had tried to change and make amends, but the damage had been done.
Harry twitched a finger in an attempt to get up from the floor. He had an hour or so before breakfast started and he wanted to get there first so that he could study and avoid Dumbledore's looks over Harry's eating habits. It was the mystery of the school. He had heard teachers taking bets from each other over which delicacy Harry would turn down on the menu. Every single one of them found it odd that Harry Potter, gifted student and all around good kid, actually loathed sweets.
"Harry, sir!" The voice startled Harry so badly that he almost made it to his feet. "What is wrong with Harry, sir?" Minks wailed from beside Harry.
"I just overdid it, Minks." Harry told him. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be fine." Harry reassured the elf. Minks sobbed next to him for a few seconds before disappearing. Harry was secretly relieved; house elves crying made him feel very guilty.
Harry only raised an eyebrow when Minks returned with Button, the head of the Castle Elves. "'Lo, Button." Harry said to the elf.
"Harry sir has hurt himself." Button said without a hint of blame in his voice. "Harry sir needs helps."
"I'm-" Harry felt a distinctly odd sensation as Button touched him. "fine." Harry found himself in one of the Ravenclaw bathtubs, already filled with hot water and some kind of oil, if the slick feeling of the water was anything to go by. His sodden clothes disappeared off his body and he felt his body be suspended in the water. He thrashed against the magic until Button rested one of his hands on Harry's head.
"Harry sir should relax," Button told him. "Button and the elves will not let harm come to Harry Potter while the elves take care of Harry sir."
Harry actually stopped moving. He didn't know why, but he trusted Button and the other elves with his safety. Never mind that he couldn't move; Button was there. Harry tried to take deep breaths to fight off the feelings of panic his mind wanted him to have. This was eerily like the restraints Voldemort and his cronies had used a time or two. He jerked in surprise as the magic loosened the slightest bit. He could move now, just not much.
"Button is sorry, Harry sir. Button didn't know about what happened before." The house elf reached down and the water started bubbling much like a Muggle Jacuzzi. It felt wonderful on Harry's abused muscles.
Harry was shocked and only stared at Button's mournful face. "It's okay, Button. You didn't know." Harry smiled at the elf and allowed the magic to hold him in place as the hot water started to relax his muscles. He closed his eyes and sighed as the pain started to melt away.
Button's confidence grew a bit after such an obvious sign of trust from Harry. He ordered the other house elves about with a slight tone of urgency. Serry was called from the kitchen to provide something substantial for breakfast once Harry made it to the Great Hall. Pidgy was sent off to Harry's closet for a full uniform for Harry. Minks rushed off to put together Harry's school things and Button was at the center of it all.
Harry was pulled out of the tub twenty minutes later and found his bathrobe from the Malfoys wrapped around him. He sighed and started stretching his limbs, hoping to stave off too much physical pain. Button allowed him to do what he needed to do for a while and then he handed Harry his school uniform with a look that said Get dressed. Harry obeyed the unspoken demand and tried to wrestle his hair into some semblance of order. He scowled at the mirror and sighed. There was no hope for his hair.
Minks stood by with Harry's school bag. Harry took it from him and checked the contents. He smiled when he saw Minks had included everything Harry would need for the day, including extra quills and parchment. "Thank you, Minks. You did very well." Minks let a few tears fall, but only disappeared. Harry had a feeling that Minks was off to cry in the privacy of elf quarters.
Button turned to Harry with a large smile. "Harry sir is now ready for classes." He said happily.
"Yes, Button. Thank you." He patted Button on the head and then regretted it. Adoration lit up in Button's eyes.
"Even adult wizards need to be taken care of, Harry sir. Button and the other elves are happy to do so." Button and the rest of the elves disappeared at that point. Harry had only shaken his head and went down to the Great Hall and the heaping plates Serry sent up. Harry was happy and relaxed for the first time in a long time.
His relaxation did not last long. That evening found him practically dancing in his chair. He was agitated. He felt like he should be doing something, but he wasn't sure what he should be doing. Something active, obviously, but another session like the one this morning would only cause him more harm than good. His thoughts wandered and so did his eyes until his they fell on the Quidditch Pitch outside. Flying? No, it didn't fit with his persona. Besides, it was getting late, almost curfew. He would get into trouble. The day you can't sneak around a group of teachers is the day you should turn yourself over to Voldemort. A voice said in his mind.
He knew who it was; himself, before he returned. His training had been difficult, almost heartbreaking. He had spent most of it either exhausted to the point of illness, crying by himself in the dead of night, or falling onto the ground beneath him, but he knew that he was perfect in every way a soldier should be once he had finished. He didn't fear Death, he was well-acquainted with the way eyes would turn shocked and then glassy as a person fell in death. He had confidence in his training; it would keep him alive until he could defeat Voldemort. His training was telling him to go do something physical, something out of the ordinary.
Physical. Something out of the ordinary. Something he missed sorely. Flying had been forbidden to him once he started his training. It was used only as a means of transportation and nothing else. He had only flown once between the time he was taken for training and Voldemort's victory. That made a total of one time in two years that he had been on a broom.
Harry pushed the thoughts away from him and decided to ignore the feeling. It worked for about five minutes. His leg started bouncing again and he frowned. He stood up and put his things away before sneaking out of the common room and down towards the Pitch. Filch had to be busy elsewhere. He didn't see anyone on his way though the halls.
A quick "Alohamora" released the broom shed doors and Harry picked out the least shoddy looking broom he could find. He took off his outer robe and dropped it on the turf, along with his tie. He folded up his sleeves and mounted the broom with a look that wasn't quite a smile.
He rose into the air and feelings built in him that he had forgotten existed. He smiled fully as the wind ruffled his hair. He hovered in the air above the pitch for a few seconds before dropping into a dive. He watched the ground come closer and his heart sped up to match the speed of the broom. He pulled up at the last moment and felt his toes drag along the grass. Note to self: This is NOT a Firebolt. He adjusted to the broom over time and spent a solid hour twisting and turning in the air, flying through the hoops and performing tricks he had made in his youth, missing the two separate watchers on the grounds under the stands.
Severus Snape listened for any problems as he walked the hallways of the school that night. Children never did listen to the rules and he was going to ensure that the rules were followed. He folded his robes about him in the slight chill that permeated the walls of the Scottish castle and stalked forward. He nearly tripped (not that he would ever admit it) when he happened to glimpse someone flying at the Quidditch Pitch. "Foolish child!" He snapped to the thin air. He pushed back from the window and rushed down the hallway. Now, if only he could get there before the miscreant broke his neck. Perhaps he could take some points...no, lots of points.
He arrived in time to see the figure on the broom drop towards the ground. It only took a second for him to draw his wand and prepare a spell, but the spell was unneeded. The boy on the broom pulled up at the last second and only drifted his toes along the pitch. "This has gone on-" The sentence never made it past the last word; he had caught sight of whom was on the broom. It didn't make sense. It didn't fit into his tidy little world of what he knew: Harry Potter was on a broom. More than that, he was happy. The child personified joy while he was flying.
He stepped back into deeper shadows and prepared to wait for the boy to finish. After all, he wasn't hurting anything and this was his first offense...Snape wondered if this meant he was going soft. For a Potter. This just added another dimension of the puzzle known as Potter. The boy touched down sometime later and Snape was about to confront the boy when another voice stopped him. "Why didn't you tell anyone you can fly like that?" Draco Malfoy. I should have known.
Draco Malfoy had had very few experiences where he felt like his heart stopped. In fact, he had had none up until this evening. He was just returning from a study group –actually, it was a small party thrown in honor of the Slytherin who was most creative in cursing Gryffindors- when he saw Harry Potter sneaking around. Now, the sneaking around part didn't bother him; he was one of the most accomplished "sneakers" that year. He had bypassed Filch in the halls too many times to count and hadn't been caught. No, what was really bothering him was that it was Harry Potter sneaking around. After curfew. By himself. He's just inviting trouble.
Draco Malfoy crept behind the boy and marveled at his skills. He never would have known that Harry was there if he hadn't seen him. He was absolutely silent in the halls as he slipped from one ray of moonlight to the next. Draco was surprised to see Harry leave the school building and make his way towards the Quidditch Pitch. His curiosity peaked as he watched the mysterious eleven year old break into the broom shed. He nearly yelled in surprise when lifted off from the ground and flew as though he was born on a broom. I'll never believe him again! 'I hate to fly, Draco. I'm afraid of heights!' HA! He won't get out of flying this summer!
Draco hid himself in shadows and catalogued every single movement Harry made on the broom. It was amazing; why wasn't he recruited for his House team? They should be out here practicing with him to prepare him for next year. Surely someone from his own House would know of his flying abilities. He watched and waited until Harry descended to the ground and put away his broom before he announced his presence to the other boy. "Why didn't you tell anyone you can fly like that?"
"Why didn't you tell anyone you can fly like that?" A voice demanded from directly behind Harry. He whirled around and brought up his wand, a curse ready on his lips. He froze when he saw the culprit.
"Why do you always surprise me into nearly hexing you?" Harry asked quietly as he put his wand away.
"Harry, your flying is brilliant. You should be on the House team, not skulking about after hours and sneaking in flying." Draco said as he approached the other boy.
"I do not care for Quidditch." Harry told him flatly.
"Just like you're afraid of heights?" Draco bit out. "Why do you hide from it? You're such a good flyer." Draco tried to see Harry's face through the murky darkness.
"Thank you for the compliment, but I'll ask you not to mention it again. Flying is just a sometimes thing for me and I really could care less about being on any sort of team." Harry started walking back towards the castle. He would be lucky if he wasn't caught. The day you're caught...Harry pushed that voice away. He didn't care what his teacher had taught him just at that moment. There were some days he couldn't take hearing that man's voice in his head.
"Oh, I'll mention it again!" Draco said as he caught up to Harry. "Loudly and in front of the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain!" Draco promised.
"Sod off," Harry muttered.
Draco Malfoy stopped in shock just inside the doors of the school. "Did you just tell me to 'sod off'?" He asked in a shocked voice.
"I do believe I did." Harry told him.
"Mum's going to be mad at you." Draco told him seriously.
"She's not my mother," Harry said simply. "I don't have to worry about what she will say." Harry gave Draco a look that said 'so there'.
"She will when I tell her that you snuck out at night," Draco Malfoy paused for a breath "and took me with you."
Harry gaped at him in shock. "You wouldn't!" He did like Mrs. Malfoy and he didn't want to upset her...and that would upset her. "That's cruel, Draco."
"Of course, I could forget all about this if you do one little thing," Draco gave Harry a look that promised heavy retribution if things didn't work out his way.
"Blackmail. So typically Slytherin," Harry sneered.
"I'm looking at it as persuasion," Draco commented. "Blackmail is such a nasty word."
"'A rose by any other name..." Harry told the boy. "What do I need to do to stay in your mother's good graces?"
"Stay in your dorm rooms after curfew," A sharp voice said from behind them. Harry winced. He hadn't heard anyone behind him, hadn't felt anything out of the ordinary, nothing. You, Potter, are having an intense training session tomorrow, to remind you of your surroundings at ALL TIMES! Harry turned around to face his professor. "I am severely disappointed in the both of you," McGonagall said. "You were almost lucky; if I hadn't seen Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger sneaking about, well, I wouldn't have caught you." Harry noticed Hermione and Ron standing behind her and wondered what they had been doing out of bed. Oh, Norbert. That's right. "I'm especially disappointed in you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall's tirade continued. "You're such an outstanding student. Can you explain why you were outside at this time of night in the freezing cold?"
Cold? Harry hadn't felt cold. "I couldn't sleep, ma'am." He admitted honestly. "I thought a walk would clear my head."
"You should have gone straight to the Hospital Wing for that, Mr. Potter. Not outside," She turned her glare onto Malfoy. "Well?"
"I was following him, to make sure he didn't get hurt or anything." Draco answered. "My mother thinks he's a sleepwalker."
"I am not!" Harry denied.
"She told me to keep an eye on you!" Draco defended his actions. "She was worried."
"It's a conspiracy." Harry muttered darkly to himself. Harry knew that Narcissa Malfoy hadn't told Draco to keep an eye on him. No, Draco was only trying to save his own skin.
"No, it's detention for you lot, to be served this Friday evening. Perhaps that will remind you all of where you should be after curfew," McGonagall looked them all over. "Now, back to your dorms and Merlin help you if I find you out again."
"Yes, ma'am." Harry answered in tandem with the other children. He turned and walked away, heading towards Ravenclaw.
"Harry?" Draco said. "You know that thing I said about sleepwalking was fake, right? We don't really think that about you."
"I know. I can tell when you're lying." Harry said with a smirk. "Just don't try to use the excuse of 'I was protecting Potter' to save your skin again. I don't need your protection."
"Whatever, Harry. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He paused for a moment. "Are you going to talk to the Quidditch Captain?"
"No." Harry answered shortly before disappearing up a staircase to go to Ravenclaw. Harry Potter, bookworm extraordinaire, playing Quidditch? What a ridiculous idea.
Mr. Potter,
Please report to my office an hour before your usual time.
S. Snape
Harry reached up a hand and knocked on the laboratory door. It swung open and he entered with a little sigh. He used to hate spending time with Snape before and did anything he could to avoid visiting him. Now, Snape had become a bizarre sanctuary of sorts. The man didn't watch him every second in this room. In fact, he often ignored Harry once he set him to a task of some kind. It was peaceful.
Peace came easier to Harry these days. The pensieve he had received from MacNair made life bearable and toned down his reactions to unexpected events. It had even lessened the nightmares a bit. He still slept under Silencing charms and fought with his sleeping habits, but he was less exhausted these days and more alert to things around him. He felt almost normal. Well, as normal as he could feel.
"Mr. Potter." Snape said with a smirk. "Have a seat." Harry tossed his book bag in its customary corner and dropped onto the stool. "I hear that you have detention this Friday." Snape said as he handed Harry the instructions for the potion.
"Yes, sir." Harry said calmly and took the instructions. He dug into his book bag and rummaged out his Potions journal.
"Sneaking around the school after hours, I hear." Snape finished setting up his cauldron and did not look at him. Sarcastically. "A gross negligence of rules."
Harry studied his toes for a few minutes and wondered if Snape was trying to make him feel guilty. He didn't feel guilty. He had needed something out of the ordinary and that was it. "Yes, sir." Harry felt the path of least resistance was best here.
"Minerva tells me that you couldn't sleep." Snape commented to Harry.
Harry's head snapped up and he stared at Snape in horror. Was the man trying to get Harry to confide in him? What an absurd idea. Harry never confided in anyone...not even Draco or Hermione. It just wasn't done. He kept his own counsel on his feelings. Anything he told Hermione or Draco was crafted for their ears or the ears of someone else through them. Nothing more, nothing less. "Are you trying to get me to confide in you, sir?" Harry had to know.
"Did you have another dream about Black?" Snape asked sharply, his black eyes meeting Harry's own. Harry felt a little tickle that told him Snape was trying to use Legillmency on him. Harry stared Snape down and practically dared him to find a way though the defenses on his mind. The sooner Snape realized that he couldn't get through, the less headaches Harry would have.
"No dreams, sir. Just a slight case of insomnia." Harry said lightly. "Nothing to worry about."
"Mr. Potter, you may believe that insomnia is normal for eleven year old boys, but I must tell you that it is not. If anything, it is the direct opposite. I realize that you are uncomfortable around adults because of the way your relatives treat you, but you must treat this unfortunate inability to sleep before your health becomes affected."
Warning bells rang in Harry's head. "What do you mean by 'the way your relatives treat you', sir?" Harry bit out between his teeth.
"Nothing," Snape answered as he motioned Harry over to the workbench. "You are a very independent young man and they must allow a lot of freedom for you in your choices, hence your inability to ask for help when you need it."
Harry stared at Snape and wondered exactly what Snape was up to. Snape never did anything without a good reason or motivation. "Yes, sir." He answered, moving his attention back to his potion.
"You will see Madame Pomfrey the next time you suffer from insomnia, yes?" Snape stated more than asked.
"Yes, sir." Harry answered again as he wrote down the potion's procedure.
"Good." Snape appeared ready to say something else, but obviously thought better of it and turned back to his own preparations.
Harry smiled to himself as he ducked his head to count out his ingredients. He didn't feel like dealing with inquiries from Snape today. He reached out for his mortar and nearly died from shock when someone grabbed his shoulder. He spun around to face his attacker and brought up his hands to protect his head.
"Even you must admit that your behavior is not normal." Snape's voice said as Harry's heart rate returned to normal.
"Normal?" Harry asked as he calmed his breathing. "I think it's perfectly normal when a person is grabbed like that!" He stepped away from Snape and considered the man motivations. "Perhaps this is not a good day, sir." Harry said as he started to pack up his things. "Another time, perhaps." Harry said as he shut his Potions journal. "I honestly don't know what you think I should tell you, sir." Harry said after a few minutes of contemplation. "You're looking for answers I can't give you."
"Can't?" Snape latched onto the word. "Or won't?" Snape demanded with a glint in his eyes. They had played the 'can't or won't' game before after one of Harry's nightmares. Harry took a deep breath and grabbed his bag as he made his way to the door. "Do not walk out that door, Mr. Potter. We haven't finished here yet."
Harry stopped without turning around, his hand frozen on the doorknob. "I am not violating school rules at this moment. Our conversation has steered into the personal; I am under no obligation to violate my own privacy."
Harry jumped as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He hadn't heard the man move! He tried to jerk away from it, but the hand followed him. Snape turned him around slowly and dropped to one knee in front of him. Harry stared at Snape. He had never seen this man in such a position before. Snape studied Harry for a few minutes before speaking again. "Po- Harry." Harry kept his face blank. "I realize that I've come on a little strong about this. I didn't mean to frighten you or demand that you give up your privacy. You're hurt. You're being harmed by someone." Harry opened his mouth to deny it, but Snape held up one finger for Harry to wait. The gesture was so far from Snape's usual methods that he froze. "Yes, Harry. You are being harmed. We both know it. I had hoped that you trusted me enough to tell me who is doing such a horrible thing; I was mistaken. I don't want you to feel that you can't talk to me, or that our Potions sessions will stop, or that I'll use what I know against you or anything similar. I'll give you the time you need or want, but I do want you to try to tell me who is hurting you. Eventually. That's the only way we can stop it."
Harry stared at Snape. He idly wondered if this was what the man would have been like if he had chosen Slytherin all those years ago when the Sorting Hat had suggested it. Would Snape still have been so supportive? Would Snape have fought for Harry? Would Snape have listened to three frantic first years about the Philosopher's Stone? The possibilities of what could have been rattled through him and he shuddered. His teacher's voice shouted in his mind that he couldn't waste time on might have beens. He shoved that voice out of his head and mulled over what Snape had said. His professor was waiting for an answer. Harry felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze slightly in a reassuring manner. Snape was really trying to tell Harry that it was okay, that he was there for Harry and no other reason. The mind boggled. Harry reached up his own hand and rested it on Snape's hand before he nodded. He couldn't say anything.
"Good." Snape said. The approval in that voice made Harry feel as though something had passed between the two of them. He just wasn't sure what. Snape led him back towards the workbench and motioned Harry to continue with his preparations. Harry picked up where he had left off and soon found himself immersed in the fumes of potion-making. He relaxed, little by little, and produced an acceptable Pepper-Up Potion. He bottled it up and labeled the bottles according to Snape's instructions. He was about to ask permission to leave when Snape stopped him.
"I have something for you." Snape said in a neutral voice as he moved to a shelf and pulled out a book. "This is a journal, Potter." Snape said as he handed it to Harry. "Some people are unable to talk about things that have happened to them, but they are able to write it down. Will you try to do so?" Snape asked.
"Yes, sir." Harry said as he looked over the book. It had a plain brown leather cover and the pages were creamy white. His name was written in the front cover. "Thank you."
Snape only nodded and went back to his potion, dismissing Harry from his station. Harry left and started back to the Ravenclaw dormitory. He knew that he would use the journal. Now he needed a way to keep others from reading it.
Later that evening, Snape pulled out an identical copy of the journal and opened it, hoping to see something that would give him some insight into dealing with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. He stared at the page in front of him and wondered exactly what the boy thought he was doing. This wasn't writing; this was scribbles and marks. Nothing legible graced five full pages of the journal. There even appeared to be a splotch or two where liquid of some kind had fallen and smeared the ink...not that the markings were legible. He slammed the book shut and snarled. The worst part of this situation was that he couldn't even confront the boy and demand answers! That would tell the child that Snape had a copy of the journal and could see what was written. I hate my life sometimes. Snape thought as he tossed the journal into his desk drawer and locked it. Onto Plan B...whatever that might be.
Author's Note: My thanks goes out to the awesome beta: you know who you are! Also, to the wonderful people who answered my plea for German help. If you have any questions, drop me a review or head to the forums. Thanks for reading!