CHAPTER 3
A/N: Not slash. Sigh. Can't write platonic fluff in peace these days.
Harry sat to dinner, keeping his gaze down on his plate and away from the staff table. Hermione had her nose in a thick book, and was muttering to herself like she had been since he'd returned from Dumbledore's office. "We have to find out all we can about spells that cause connections between minds," she'd said. Ron had nodded solemnly and then rolled his eyes at Harry behind her back.
Harry smiled to himself as he watched his best friend eat, for once without Hermione to reprimand him for his manners. They were acting so normal. As though he hadn't just told them about a Prophecy that hung over his head. As if research and eating were the most important things in the world. They had stood by him like they always had.
He was so intent on not looking up that he didn't see it until the Great Hall erupted in whispers and cries. "H-Harry?" Ron said, pointing. Harry followed his gaze and nearly spat out his mouthful of pie.
A shining golden cord pulsed in front of him. It began in his forehead and stretched across the Hall to end in Snape's forehead.
"What on earth…" Hermione said, her eyes wide.
His first absurd thought was that it was beautiful. He lifted his hand and tried to touch the thing. His hand passed through it, and he felt nothing. He looked back at Snape. The man was looking furiously at him, which was usual; but he had also gone white, which wasn't. The golden light winked out and disappeared. Harry swallowed the food in his mouth, and looked at Dumbledore.
The headmaster wasn't looking at him. He seemed entirely engrossed in cutting up his roast chicken and oblivious to the commotion in the Hall, but Harry knew he must have seen what had happened.
"The Slytherins don't look very happy," Ron said.
"Do they know something we don't, I wonder," Hermione replied in a low voice.
Harry waited, but after a while, the teachers took their cue from Dumbledore and returned to their breakfasts as though Fred and George had played yet another prank, and it wasn't worth the trouble to react.
The Weasley twins weren't in Hogwarts anymore, though, and Harry knew this was no prank.
"Enter."
Harry took a deep breath and pushed the door open. In Dumbledore's office, he had rejected this idea completely; but after what had happened at dinner, he thought he'd do worse things to get answers. Snape stood behind his desk as he had during their lessons last year.
"Well, Potter," he said, his lip curling, "I see you have decided to stop wallowing in self-pity."
The blood rushed to Harry's head at once. Any decisions he had made about trying to keep the peace just long enough to get something, anything, out of Snape, were gone with the wind. "What happened today in the Hall?" he asked without preamble.
"If you are here merely to satisfy your curiosity, Potter, you may show yourself out at once." Snape pointed to the door, and Harry saw his chance slipping away.
"Wait! Sir," he added hastily. "I… I'm here for Occlumency lessons."
There was a pause. "And why would I teach a student who has shown neither interest nor sincerity during the past lessons, and further has shown blatant disrespect?"
Harry couldn't help but feel like he was standing next to a volcano. He had felt it in class, and it seemed a lot stronger. Snape's hatred of Harry seemed to have increased over the summer, somehow. Snape's fingers twitched as the silence lengthened, as though he would like to put them around Harry's neck and squeeze. How long before you actually make an attempt on my life, Snape?
"Because Dumbledore says so?" Harry finally said, not caring that he sounded rude.
"You astound me, Potter," Snape said, leaning closer. Harry wondered if the reason Snape always put a desk between them was to stop himself from physically attacking Harry. "Not only do you disregard the person the very person you require help from and refuse to apologise for your behaviour, you disrespect your greatest ally as well. Are there truly no limits to your arrogance and stupidity?" Harry resisted the urge to draw his wand, and silently turned to the door. It slammed shut of its own accord. "I have not dismissed you," Snape said.
"Let me out," Harry said through clenched teeth, and then the office swam before his eyes.
It took a few moments for the slowly waking child to realise that he was laying half on top of Harry. When he did, he sent Harry a panicked glance. Harry merely raised an eyebrow at him. The boy blushed. "How—what," he said, and then stopped, apparently deeming this a coherent enough question.
"What an interesting shade of red, Potter," Harry said, referring to the boy's cheeks after he'd explained the events of the previous night. He watched, bemused, as the boy buried his face in Harry's chest.
"My head," he groaned.
"The consequences of drinking too much—headache, nausea, thirst and sickness," Harry informed him.
"Thanks for telling me, Severus," the boy said, still trying to dig his way into Harry's chest and embarrassment seemingly forgotten. "Don't you have potions for this thing?"
"I do, and I have a price."
"I'll pay you the next time I go to—"
"Oh, no, nothing so costly," Harry said, keeping his voice low because he wasn't a complete sadist. Also, he remembered what the boy had said about his voice last night. But the boy seemed to detect something wrong. He looked up warily. "You must simply give me your word that you will lose the first Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match next term."
The boy's face went blank, and then the hurt showed. "Oh," he said. He had gone stiff against Harry. Now he detached himself from Harry's embrace and got out of bed. His shoulders were slumped. Harry watched in hidden disbelief as the boy clumsily made his way out of the room.
He flicked his wand. A vial appeared in his hand a few seconds later, and he murmured another spell to send the potion into the boy' stomach. All the while, he thought about how fragile the boy's trust was. He had truly thought Harry would withhold the potion for a Quidditch match's sake. Well, a few weeks ago he might have, but now…
The boy came thundering into the room just as he was getting out of bed. He threw himself at Harry, knocking both of them back onto it. "I'm sorry," he said into Harry's neck. "I'm sorry I thought you'd actually do such a thing."
"Harry," he struggled to say, "you are smothering me." The boy laughed, shifted, and then put his nose back in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry let him enjoy that for a few minutes before telling him his punishment for drinking.
The scene shifted.
He found the child jumping on the sofa as though it were a trampoline. "Potter!" he barked. "Stop acting like a five year old!"
The brat only laughed. It was official; he had lost all fear of Harry. "But I am a five year old!" he shouted back.
"Not in your mind!" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. He would not physically restrain the brat; that was beneath him. Perhaps sensing the shift in Harry's mood, the brat stopped his infuriating jumping. "Sev?" he called softly. "Are you all right?"
Why did the boy keep asking him that? He wasn't the one who'd recently lost his last connection to his family. He wasn't the one on whose shoulders the burden of the Prophecy rested, whose freedom had been snatched away from him. He took two long strides forward and swept the tiny child into his arms. The brat giggled, and then fearlessly snuggled into him. Harry sighed. He had always scoffed at the tripe people tended to spout about the joys of parenthood; he wasn't supposed to fall prey to the same sentiment!
"Daddy," the child whispered to him, and then peeked at Harry to watch his reaction. He usually only called Harry that when he thought Harry wasn't listening. "You look nice when you smile," the boy shyly offered.
He hadn't even realised he'd been smiling. When was the last time such a thing had happened? Honestly, sometimes he thought the child was even more bewitching than his mother. The thought made his gut churn with a terror only the Dark Lord could produce.
The child was blathering on. "I mean your real, happy smile, not the twisted one you give when you're handing out an awful job for detention. And you shouldn't show your teeth. They're yellow." He stopped, perhaps realising this was not a polite thing to say. "Did you give me a Babbling Beverage?" he asked.
Harry smirked. "No." When the child relaxed, he added, "I gave you something worse."
"Severus!"
"My little non-Slytherin, did you think you could threaten me a prank and get away with it?"
"I was drunk when I said that!"
He kissed the child's forehead. That always shut him up. "Calm down," he said. "You had been brooding for a few days, and I had had enough. Clearly, the potion worked well, though I could have done without all the jumping."
But the brat had already moved on. "Do you think you'd have liked me better if I'd been in Slytherin?" Harry felt a headache coming on. That was not a question he wanted to answer without his Occlumency at full strength, and that never worked around the child. "Never mind," the child said, taking pity on him. A minute later, he spoke again. "Can I wash your hair?"
Harry came out of his vision to find Snape leaning heavily against his desk, panting as though he'd run a race. "Professor?" he asked tentatively, trying to quell his own nausea. He wanted to run away from this place, far away from the man before him.
"Get out." It seemed Snape agreed with that sentiment. Which definitely made it a bad idea, Harry decided, standing his ground. "Potter! I said get out."
"No," Harry said, a part of enjoying the chance to openly defy the git. "That won't make it go away. Occlumency will."
Oh, oh. It seemed like Snape's fragile control was slipping. He gripped the edges of his desk as if to prevent himself from leaping at Harry. "Potter," he whispered, "you have ten seconds to leave the room or I will remove you by force."
"I thought Slytherins were supposed to be strategic," Harry said scornfully. "We both know Dumbledore wants me here. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on, or teach me how to stop it."
That did it. "You cannot stop it, you thick-headed fool!" Snape bellowed. "Nothing can stop it, as far as the Headmaster and I know."
"But he said…"
"Occlumency has very limited effect," Snape said, still panting. He suddenly looked very tired. Harry stared. For some reason, that astounded him even more than his bizarre visions. "And if an Occlumens of my capacity cannot stop it, it is ludicrous to hope that you can."
"But what is it?"
Snape's expression became closed. "You will find out soon enough. Now get out, Potter." This time he didn't sound imperious, just weary. Harry stared at the man again, and then slowly walked to the door. He caught a glimpse of Snape just before he shut the door. He was still leaning against the desk, his head bowed as though the burdens of the world rested on his shoulders. Harry made sure to shut the door silently before he fled the dungeons, his heart pounding and yet another question added to the many others buzzing in his mind.
Whatever was going on that had Snape so disturbed?
This question was answered the next morning when Harry saw the Prophet the next day at breakfast. Ron spat out a mouthful of tea when they saw the headlines:
HOGWARTS PROFESSOR ARRESTED FOR USING DARK ARTS ON THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!
There was a crack sound, and Dobby popped up beside Harry. "Headmaster Dumbledore sir wishes to see Harry Potter sir!" he said. "Harry Potter sir must come with me now!"
Harry only had time to say "Okay," and then Dobby grabbed Harry's arm and he had the sensation of being dragged through a tube, only many times worse. They came out in Dumbledore's office.
"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said, after ushering him to a chair, "I'm afraid the time is long past that you knew the truth about what happened last summer." He lifted his wand. "If I may?"
Harry nodded uncertainly. Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry. "Can't you tell me what this is about, Professor?" he pleaded.
"We do not have time enough for that, my boy," Dumbledore said, kindly but firmly. "Suffice it to say that your memories of the summer past were removed at your own request, but we must bring them back now in order to save an innocent man from unjust punishment."
Harry's last thought before Dumbledore's spell washed over him was, Unjust? Hah.
A/N: Please review!
