Title: Sehnen
Nach Der Dunkelheit
Author: Gold-Snitcher
Chapter Three: If There is Light
Pairing: SS/HP
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As he followed Severus obediently through the halls, Harry could vaguely recall the confidence and power he felt during the war as he paced confidently through Hogwarts, cloak billowing behind him, knowing that he was the head of a very great force; that even Dumbledore could not and did not wield the same power that Harry himself did.
It seemed like an age and more in the past now. Harry felt skittish and nervous, wanting at once to lunge forward and throttle the Minister, who he could now clearly see, and also to run and hide in some dark corner. As it was, he settled for stepping closer to Severus and concentrated on not letting his nerves show. It was imperative that he appear as normal and unaffected as possible.
"Ah, Severus, we were wondering when you would arrive," said a deep voice and Harry recognized Kingsley Shakelbolt.
"I understand there have been allegations made against Mr. Potter, claiming that he used dark arts on himself while in the custody of these known Death Eaters," Severus replied, looking impassively at the occupants of the room, which were several aurors, the minister, and Harry's captors.
Harry took a small step backwards but stopped himself before he could tuck his body behind Severus completely. "Yes, well. We want to be thorough, you know," Fudge said. "Want to explore every possibility, be certain we have those responsible in custody."
"That is, I understand, the purpose of veritaserum," Severus replied. "Still, I think it prudent to address these allegations directly before they get out of hand. Mr. Potter was good enough to agree."
"Yes. Wonderful," Fudge said, twitching slightly. He had never quite adjusted to Severus or his role during the war. In fact, when Severus had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, along with other Order members, Fudge had hurriedly backed away as soon as the medallion had been unceremoniously dropped over Severus' head. "I'll have someone fetch the serum, shall I?"
"I rather think not," Severus bit out. "As I'm sure each of you gentlemen can understand, Mr. Potter is suffering the effects of six weeks of isolation, malnutrition and mistreatment. It is inadvisable to administer such a potent potion to him. You may however, freely dose his captors as they are showing no signs of physical ailment, aside from a rather striking set of teeth marks and a few scratches and bruises."
Harry looked proudly at the imprint of his teeth that had been stamped onto his captor's hand. It had been a half-hearted attempt to maintain his own faculties, and ineffective though it may have been, it had at least served to relieve Harry of some of his frustration.
"I have spoken with Mr. Potter about the events up to and including his captivity, and I assure you there was nothing voluntary about it; a story, I'm sure, that you are well aware of. These allegations of the use of a dark spell, however, are most alarming," Severus continued.
"I should say," Fudge agreed.
"He did it," one of the brutes, which was how Harry thought of his captors, spoke. "Horrible, it was," he continued. "He would cast it anywhere he pleased. I'd come upon him writhing about in the library or the kitchen. And then when we's took his wand from him, 'opin to stop it, he would take to the dungeons, he would. Cast it on himself, wandlessly."
It was preposterous for several reasons, and Harry wanted very much to laugh at the stupid excuse that the man had concocted. Still, each of his captors were spouting the same story, spooning it to Fudge who swallowed it up. It was very real and very dangerous, and Harry felt afraid and enraged and confused.
"Anyone with half a mind could understand the stupidity of these allegations," Severus snapped. "The alleged dark spell, Sehnen Nach Der Dunkelheit is rendered ineffective when cast upon the self. It is a method of forcibly increasing the darkness in a person. If self-cast, one is merely recycling magic about oneself to no effect. The spell distinctly requires the introduction of a new magic, specifically dark magic, to increase the darkness within the victim." Harry noted that Severus was emphasizing the fact that Harry in no way enjoyed or wanted this experience. He had a flash of guilt as he remembered those times when he had eagerly waited by the door in anticipation of the spell. Harry didn't think he would mention that.
"Secondly, to cast the spell properly, magic must be conducted through a focussing point. Meaning, it requires a wand to be properly cast. For Mr. Potter to have cast the spell on himself, an impossibility as I have said, and do it wandlessly it would have been effectively suicide, as the darkness without a focussing and distancing element -- a wand -- would have been far too potent and would have overwhelmed him, resulting in a most painful death.
"Thirdly, had Mr. Potter been a victim of addiction to this spell prior to his captivity here, which is what this gentleman seems to be implying, he would be demonstrating a greater attachment to the spell then he currently is. And, lastly, you will find bruising on Mr. Potter's arms that would imply that he had been forcibly held down at some point. I know Mr. Potter quite well, having fought alongside him during the Great War, and know that he would not lie idly by and let a spell of this magnitude be cast upon him. I find the scratching and bruising, and particularly that set of teeth marks right there, quite interesting." Severus paused, looking at the teeth marks with an odd expression of satisfaction.
Fudge and the other aurors had become increasingly furious throughout Severus' speech, angry at the Death Eaters who had thought to trick them, and Harry could only marvel at the man that was his friend as he quirked his head to the side and added the finishing touch to his monologue. "Not to mention Mr. Potter was physically incapable of casting magic due to the wards which had been cut into his flesh," Severus tacked on, as if in after-thought.
There was a shocked silence, and the aurors turned on Harry's captors, glaring furiously. "Very well," Fudge said, sounding quite cowed. "You understand, of course, we just wanted to be certain."
"Of course," Severus said, coolly.
"You have experienced no side-effects of the spell?" Fudge asked, this time directing his question to Harry.
"None," Harry lied.
"No signs of addiction?"
"Not at all," he responded.
"It's good to have you back, Mr. Potter," Fudge said, suddenly sounding quite relaxed. "I'll deal with these men promptly. You have my word."
"Am I allowed to leave, sir?" Harry asked catching the strange look Severus gave him when he sounded more detached and cool than he had intended.
"You will have to dictate a statement, you understand. Procedure and such, all quite tedious, but then you are free to leave," Fudge said. Harry nodded vaguely and followed Shakelbolt out of the room, presumably to record his statement, Severus keeping pace beside him.
………………..
"No, I am experiencing no ill affects from either my captivity, or from exposure to the Spell," Harry lied once more, this time on the record. "I am, however, feeling quite exhausted."
Severus took his hint immediately, rising from his chair and making excuses and ushering Harry out of the room. Harry was already beginning to feel a craving for the Spell, and it had only been a few hours since Severus had cast it on him.
Harry didn't think to ask where Severus was leading him until a bright red sock with small grinning pumpkins on it was placed in his hand, and then, just as he was opening his mouth to question his companion's sanity, he felt a familiar tug, and then the wave of nausea which always accompanied transportation via Portkey ever since his experience in the graveyard, and then Harry appeared in the living room of his loft in London.
"Master Harry Potter sir!" a familiar, if high-pitched voice cried. "Oh! Pip is ever so happy that master Harry Potter sir is alright!"
"Hello Pip," Harry greeted, somewhat tiredly. He wondered if he would ever be able to ingrain in his house elf's head that 'Harry' was just fine. Each attempt he made, however, resulted in Pip looking at him in awe and adding another honorary to Harry's title. "How have things been?"
"Pip has been keeping things in order for you, Master Harry Potter sir." At that moment Severus appeared alongside Tonks, and Pip was distracted, beaming once more at Harry before popping away, likely to the kitchen to prepare tea.
"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks greeted with a warm smile, patting him on the back; Harry took a step away from her and shifted uneasily. He was aware of both her and Severus' gaze on him, before Severus departed for a moment in order to locate a suitable beverage that would not contradict or clash with the potion he had brought to give to Harry.
"He's been in a right state," Tonks said as they both watched the man stalk in the direction of the kitchen. "He's been frantic, not bothering with sleep or food. Insisting that the Order was procrastinating and not working hard enough."
Harry wasn't exactly sure what to make of that. "He's a good friend," he settled for, though he chewed on his lip. He was feeling unsteady again. He was aware that his body was beginning to shake, thrumming with the need for the Spell. He didn't want to talk. Didn't want to see or speak to anyone about anything.
"If you don't mind," Harry said, tossing in a fake yawn to add to the credibility of his statement. "I'm knackered. I think I'm just going to turn in. Sorry, Tonks. Make sure Severus gets some food and some sleep."
"Don't worry, Harry, I'm to stay right here with you for protection. Ministry Order. But I mightn't go for a kip yet, Harry, Snape will be back in a moment. He'll want you to take whatever potion he snatched up when he popped by Grimmauld."
Harry tried hard not to wince at that. He didn't like thinking of Grimmauld Place, it held nothing but bad memories, first of Sirius' death, then of plans for the war, and dissecting failures, and going over losses. Harry was of a mind to sell it, only he wasn't sure he wanted something that seemed so personal, choked with memories of his own past as it was, going up on the market. The thought made him feel as if he were contemplating ridding himself of a limb.
"Drink this, and then finish the milk," Severus said as if on cue as he rounded the corner and immediately offered Harry a vial and a glass of warm milk.
Harry obeyed, not even caring if he was consuming poison. Vaguely disappointed when there wasn't even at least a bad aftertaste to the draught. "I'm going to sleep now," Harry said as soon as he had followed Severus' orders.
"That would be wise," Severus agreed. Harry looked at him a moment, wondering if the man would say anything more. When nothing followed that comment Harry nodded, forcing a smile for Tonks, before he turned around and left to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
He fell into bed without even bothering to change out of his captor's clothing.
……………………
When Harry awoke he felt unbearably disoriented. He spent over ten minutes blinking at the light and frowning at his pleasant and distantly familiar surroundings before he could place the room as his own.
As soon as he had accomplished this seemingly great feat, the door to his room opened and for a moment Harry tensed, the conflicting emotions of fear – recollecting his treatment at the hands of his captors, and yearning – wishing that whoever was breaching his sanctuary had some intention of casting the Spell on him once more.
He was disappointed to be faced with Pip, and Tonks following not far behind. She smiled brightly before tripping over his wardrobe leg and managed to direct her stumble so it ended with an ungainly flop into his desk chair. "Wotcher, Harry!" she said, as if she hadn't just made an incredibly foolish entry. "You should eat up!" Harry looked at the tray that Pip was placing across his lap and tried to conceal his wave of nausea. Pip frowned and when Harry shook his head, Pip obediently removed the tray, setting it onto the nightstand.
"Is there something that Master Harry Potter sir would like to eat?" Pip asked, clearly distressed that what had been prepared caused his master distress.
"No, thank-you, Pip. I'll eat this a bit later," Harry lied. He had been doing that a great deal lately. Still, Pip seemed soothed and he grinned broadly before disappearing from the room.
"Professor Snape has gone. He said you should take care to drink plenty of fluids and make sure to eat. Other than that, he said to have a healer come and help, that the spell will take a while to work out of your system …" she kept on, oblivious to the headache she was causing in him, and Harry tried very hard to shut her out; to focus on his breathing, which coming increasingly laboured.
It didn't work.
"Tonks, could you shut up a moment?" he found himself snapping. A part of Harry was horrified, but a disturbingly larger part of him looked at her surprise with a certain amount of disdain. He had grown intolerant of incessant nattering. What did she expect? He'd spent seven weeks in solitude with the only contact being with brutes who had tortured him and blessed him all in one. Did she expect for him to walk away from that without any effect?
He felt guilty for his words and his harsh thoughts almost as soon as they happened, when Tonks' bright face turned shocked and troubled. "I have a blistering headache and would prefer if I could just have some quiet," he said, sounding apologetic, and even feeling horrid for snapping.
Tonks seemed to understand and her initially shocked expression smoothed. "'Course, Harry. Then quiet you shall have. Call if you need anything, I'm just outside." She rose from the chair, grinned and closed the door behind her.
Harry glowered at the door. She was outside? Who had invited her to stay? This was his home. Was this Dumbledore's doing? More of that man's asinine meddling?
Harry sniffed disdainfully and with a flick of his hand vanished the tray of food, and then with a certain amount of satisfaction, he warded his door tightly shut before, exhausted from the use of his magic (which had been forbidden by Healer Lethis for at least a few weeks), Harry went to sleep, still in those same clothes.
……………….
Harry opened his eyes and looked first at the clock that was sitting on his nightstand. He realized that this was the second day of his freedom.
He lay there for a moment; feeling distinctly unenthused and simply stared at his room. It was becoming familiar to him again, but he still felt like a foreigner there. His entire body was shaking and he was feeling near delirious with fever.
At eleven o'clock, Tonks began pounding on the door and asking him to open it. She tried at first to unlock his wards, then to threaten him with various fates if he did not unlock them for her. Then she tried bribing him, then pleading, and begging. After a while, everything went silent.
At twelve o'clock, Pip appeared inside his room and apologized profusely for disturbing 'master Harry Potter sir', and the poor elf had looked so distressed and Harry only stared at him blankly. When the elf offered a plate of plain toast, unadorned even by butter, Harry accepted and managed to nibble at a corner. The elf had beamed at him and disappeared when Harry had asked him to.
It was unnerving, the conflicting surge of emotions that were raging in him. Harry felt all at once immensely weak, and furious with this weakness. He craved comfort, someone to sit with him and assure him, but he knew that should anyone attempt to do this he would snap at them and despise them quite completely.
And there was that other truth -- the simple, grinding shame for allowing it all to happen. He felt at once, a rage at himself and everyone else.
He hated everyone except the true villain because, after all, He had never tried to pretend to be anything other than what he was. He had never lied to Harry.
……………….
Harry slept the rest of the day through, waking only for brief moments where he once again suffered through bouts of disorientation. He felt increasingly shaky and feverish, and he would fall back to sleep wishing that someone would come and cast the damned spell on him because he couldn't take much more of this.
…………………
Harry was not aware of the passing of the hours. He did not know what day it was, nor could he tell if he was back in his cell or in his bedroom. He knew only that the fever in him seemed to be growing and that he passed in and out of consciousness with a disturbing ease.
Harry wasn't aware of much – not even when his wards fell when his magic was weakened from his poor health. He was not awake enough to discern anything except a soothing lull of voices conversing softly and a soft coolness that stroked his face, before settling across his forehead.
Harry spent most of his time in blissful slumber. Every now and then he would rise to the surface where he could always hear people conversing but he never stayed awake long enough to connect a name to the voices he heard. He didn't like being conscious, lucidity was accompanied by a blinding ache that raced through his entire being and he felt both very hot and very cold at once and as a result, was constantly weak and shaky.
It wasn't until the second week of Harry's freedom that he woke and was clear enough to open his eyes and when he did it was to find Healer Lethis standing over him, wand poised in what looked like complex spellwork while Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Poppy Pomfrey hovered in the doorway, each occupied with either staring at the healer as she worked, glowering darkly at Pip who was fretting in the corner of the room, or looking at Harry himself with pained and hopeful eyes.
It took a while for Harry to come to grips fully with what he saw, and even once he had, his throat was too sore to allow him to voice his questions or to, as he so dearly wanted, dismiss everyone and re-ward his room. He wondered how they got in to begin with. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he knew that there were too many people in too small a space for him to feel comfortable, and he was aware that his body was shaking rather furiously and he felt quite cold.
With a great effort, Harry found the strength to turn onto his side and curl into a tight ball, pulling the blankets snugly around him and lay in a shivering bundle feeling weak and defenceless; incredibly vulnerable and resentful of the fact that these people had invaded his home.
…………….
He opened his eyes once more, and the room was blissfully empty. Harry noted this with a calm and detached manner. His detachment was such that he felt he wasn't even lying in bed – it felt more as if he were hovering in the upper left corner of his bedroom, somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling, and observing the shaking shivering mess on the bed.
He could recognize black ruffled hair and long slender fingers – he could place the body as his own. He could not, however, comprehend how on earth he had become so ill. His body was covered with a sheen of sweat, his eyes looked bruised and his skins was pale, nearly translucent. It made an anger rise in him. He was weak, and he was pathetic, Saviour of the Wizarding World indeed. What a joke.
…………….
In every war there are sacrifices and there are survivors. Severus Snape had put a great deal of effort into the second war against Voldemort, simply making sure that one sacrifice that many had thought might be inevitable, was indeed never made. It seemed only too ironic that he should have accomplished his goal – only to fail at the conclusion of the war.
"Wards," Healer Lethis stated as she stepped forward to his desk and set several long ribbons of black satin on the stack of potions essays he had yet to mark. "Strong magic such as his is always more extensively affected by a curse such as the one he was subjected to," she explained. Severus stared down at the black ribbons. "Added to the spells that were cut into his flesh – his magic is fluctuating drastically and is making it far more difficult to cope. The fact that he is simply turning the effects of the spell on himself is a testament to his strength of will. He could be doing quite a bit worse." Severus nodded, but still could not pry his eyes away from the solution he had been provided.
"He was already predisposed to accept the darkness," Lethis continued. "Exposure to the Avada curse left more than a visible scar – he was directly hit with the spell. His body absorbed it before it could reject it and reflect it back on Voldemort. I can't imagine how that affected him, though there is a possibility that his extensive power is a result of it. If he was able to convert the nature of the magic from a damaging spell – to purify it, if you will, of the original intent – to kill – then he would have that reserve in him."
"I don't care about technicalities," Severus said. He had picked up one of the ribbons and stroked a thumb across the soft material.
"They are the best I could do," Lethis said. "I'm not suggesting the level of ward that was used on him by his captors. The last thing he needs is to have his magic suppressed completely. These are flexible wards – they will allow him to integrate his power, to adjust. As he grows more comfortable with the change, they will relax their grip on his magic stores until he doesn't even need to wear them. It's a coping tool," Lethis explained. "There are no negative effects. I wove the spell into them myself and tailored it specifically for Mr. Potter."
"How do they work?" he questioned.
"Each hand will be bound with the ribbon, up to the elbow. Each foot as well, to mid-calf. I know the formation for it; I'll tie them myself and show him how to do it. Though I suggest, for the first month at least, that he not remove them. A part of him will rankle at the idea of them and if you give him the chance, if you remove them at any time before at least a month has passed and he has had that time to adjust – then I don't think you'll get them back on him."
"You will show me how to tie them," Severus said.
Lethis looked at him with a frown, but nodded her head. "If you wish."
"Good."
………………………….
Severus Snape stepped out of Harry Potter's fireplace in a burst of green light and strode directly towards the boy's bedroom door. Albus had woven a charm to prevent the boy from casting more wards around the room and barring them from it – which was exactly what the blasted boy had done as soon as he had returned from his captivity. The only way they had managed to get in at all was because the idiot Gryffindor had become so weak that his magic could no longer sustain the charms that kept everyone out.
Just because there were no longer wards on the bedroom however, did not mean that Severus was able to just breeze into Harry Potter's bedchamber. "Potter!" Severus demanded authoritatively as he knocked loudly on the door. He knew he was walking a fine line now, it was imperative that he be strong and demanding enough so as to motivate Potter into action – but not too much that he should awaken the darkness in the boy, because Severus was not strong enough to grapple with Harry, weakened or no, and he was well-aware that if pushed too far, Harry would resort to magic.
In response to his call, Severus heard footsteps crossing hardwood and actually allowed himself to believe that it really could be just that simple. Then he heard the sound of a lock click, and he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Potter, that lock will not keep me out of there. I have no qualms with breaking and entering. You will rouse yourself, dress and come with me at once for a walk. You have been moping in that infernal bedroom for over three weeks, it is simply unacceptable."
"I've not been moping, you arse!" Harry shouted back.
Severus might have said something about being addressed so casually by a student, but it had been a long while since he and Harry's relationship had been so simple. In fact, after their last explosive interaction prior to Harry's capture which had subsequently destroyed their easy camaraderie, it was good to hear Harry being so casual with him again – even if he was behaving as a child.
"I will ask you once more, and then I will simply hex my way in. Open this door at once!" Severus demanded. By this time, both Pip and Tonks, who had been staying as both a guard and chaperone, had come to see what the noise was about.
"Piss off!" was Harry's retort.
"Very well, Potter," Severus said, and drew his wand. He could sense no spells on the bedroom, and that did worry him, because it meant that Harry was still too weak to erect any protective barriers. Still, it made Severus' task easier. "Alohamora," he intoned, and he heard the lock click, and then there was a thud against the door. Frowning, Severus turned the handle and pushed the door. It did not budge. He shoved with his shoulder and he heard a muffled 'oomph' and the small gap he'd managed to make between the door and the frame was closed and the door slammed shut.
Huffing once more, Severus rolled his sleeves and then once again turned the handle. This time, Severus' shoulder proved stronger than Harry's bare foot. Had Harry been slightly less debilitated, he might have put up more of a fight. As it was, Severus stalked into the room and shoved Harry gently onto the bed.
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" Harry was shouting. "This is my home! You can't just shove me about in my own home! What are those?" he continued to shout as Severus yanked his sleeve up over one elbow and pulled out a black ribbon. "What the bloody hell are you doing you great git! Get off me!" Harry kicked and struggled, but he was weak and no match for Severus. The potions master managed to wind the ribbon-wards in the appropriate formation, leaving the fingers free and toes free, as well as the heel of the foot, but covering the palm of the hand and arch of the foot.
Wards in place, Severus proceeded to verbally abuse Harry into his coat, harassed him out of his flat, and pushed and prodded and chivvied and distracted him until they were walking through a park where Severus launched into a monologue on his favourite topic – potions.
"Oh, come on!" Harry snapped after they had been walking aimlessly for well over an hour. "This is ridiculous!"
"Thank Merlin!" Severus proclaimed, throwing up his hands and collapsing onto a nearby park bench. "Even I, with my considerable knowledge of the subject, cannot prattle on about potions indefinitely!" Severus said. Harry stood on the path, frowning at his companion, hands in his pockets and hair hanging in his face. "Feel better?" Severus asked conversationally.
Harry looked away from the other man, glancing at the gravel he was standing on, the barren trees, the streetlamp, the sky, until he could no longer ignore the other man's presence and turned back. "Isn't it dreary, always being right?"
"Not at all," Severus answered. Harry, feeling oddly gracious, stepped off the path and settled himself beside Severus on the park bench.
They sat in silence for a moment before Severus once again, began to speak. "The aurors, and indeed the Order as well, have had no luck in finding your captor." His eyes turned sharply to Harry when the boy let out a sigh that sounded just the slightest bit relieved. "They will continue to have absolutely no luck finding him, unless you stop secretly wishing him luck and begin lending your help."
Harry's head was turned away, but Severus stared at him for a moment before he continued. "I suppose it might interest you to know that the Order found some interesting documentation in your Captor's rooms in the house we found you in." Harry refused to say a word, but Severus refused to be deterred. "It seems that you wished to make a change in your will – had you died, your sizeable fortune would have been distributed among the ranks of remain Death Eaters. As well, we found the paperwork involved in notifying the Ministry of your having turned Dark." He paused, mostly for effect because Harry was still avoiding his eyes. "The Ministry, I'm sure you recall, was present upon our retrieval of you and would have had more than enough proof to support this claim. They would have seen the effects of the spell."
Harry dropped his gaze back to the gravel. "I hated that," he said, his voice soft and thick with emotion. "Having you cast … I hated it."
"You hated me," Severus offered.
"I suppose I did," Harry agreed. He turned to meet the dark onyx gaze.
"I cannot force you to do something you do not wish to, nor would I," Severus said.
"I seem to recall that I didn't much feel like you coming into my bedroom. Or getting dressed. Or leaving my flat. Or coming for a walk at all."
"Yes, but that was entirely different, this was for your own good. You feel better; you've already admitted it. You're hungry too, no doubt," Severus said, just the slightest bit defensively and with a hint of smugness.
"Yes," Harry answered in a huff. "Not for huge amounts or anything –"
"But for flavour?" Severus asked. When he received an affirmative nod, Severus rose from the bench and gestured for Harry to follow him. "As it happens, we are quite close to a reasonably good restaurant."
……………………..
It had just been getting dark when they had reached the restaurant, and by the time they had finished with their meal it was quite late and the night was a cool one. Harry stepped out onto the busy street and then stepped backward sharply, bumping into Severus who was exiting the restaurant after him. "Sorry," he said, and looked darkly at the bustling streets.
As they walked down the sidewalk Severus kept an eye on the younger wizard, noting how Harry flinched if someone passed too closely to him, how he looked suspiciously and with fear at the dark alleys they were passing – how he flinched at sharp noises. Severus picked up the pace of their walk, keeping an eye out for a place where they might apparate, but any place suitable seemed to be down a dark alley, and judging by Harry's reactions, there was no way the boy would be comfortable walking down there.
It happened abruptly. One moment Severus was walking, his hand hovering at the small of Harry's back, guiding him through the crowds, and searching for a quiet place where they could apparate. The next Harry had stopped walking, his hands drawn to his face to shield it and was shaking and clearly in the grip of a panic attack. Severus held the shaking body close, petting the dark hair and scanning their surroundings to spot the cause.
A woman was walking towards them in an ankle-length black coat, the hood of which she had pulled over her head to keep out the chill breeze – added to the bustle and jostle of people, the darkness, and the noise of the cars around them, it had undoubtedly been too much for Harry, who had not even left his bedroom since he had been taken captive.
Pressing the boy closer and shifting his arms to block his gaze, should he manage to open his eyes, Severus manoeuvred them from the sidewalk and into one of the alleys he had been eyeing. Not even sparing a thought, Severus removed his wand and apparated them to Hogwarts.
……………………….
Severus finished chopping the asphodel root and added the cloverleaf to the simmering cauldron. A soft sigh caused him to turn his attention from stirring his potion to look at the couch where Harry lay, tucked under Severus' cloak and fast asleep.
The walk to the castle had given the boy time to calm down, and even though Severus had told the young wizard that he could rest if he wished, Harry insisted that he wasn't tired, that he simply wanted to sit by a warm fire and have some company. Severus had watched the boy fall asleep soon after settling onto the couch, and had draped his cloak over him not long after he had added the newt-tongue to the elixir he was brewing – it had been the first opportunity to leave his potion for any length of time.
Turning back to his work, Severus turned down the flame under the cauldron, removed and cleaned the stir-stick, covered the cauldron. Cleaning his hands with a cloth he had set aside for that purpose, he moved over to the couch where he carefully hefted Harry's sleeping weight and carried him out of the lab and down the short hallway where he settled the slim form under the warm blankets Severus' own bed. Gathering his nigh clothes, Severus paused briefly by the door to look back at Harry's peaceful features before he spelled the light down and closed the door.
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End Chapter Three:
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