A/N: Procrastinate: To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness. To postpone or delay needlessly.
That is an excellent word to describe what I have been doing. I didn't want to make yet another one year anniversary of not updating this fic, so I got off my ass and actually did some work on it. Here is my belated Christmas gift to myself and to you all.
Synopsis from the beginning (since I'm sure most of you have forgotten): Harry and Snape are addressed by Dumbledore over bond. Both v. angry. Meanwhile Hermione is dating Draco. Dumbledore gets sick of Harry & Snape not doing anything, locks them in a room and tells them they have to bond within a deadline. Lucius defects. Harry and Snape spend a few chapters half-flirting. Dursleys die. Harry stabs himself, has a bad dream and promptly gets kidnapped and tortured. Lucius saves Harry and his son and has a little guilt trip about leaving Harry too long with Bellatrix Lestrange. People v. worried about Harry mentally.
And that brings people up to date. I don't think I need to tell you how pathetic it is that I can summarise this fic in less than 100 words. I also want to apologise that there's been no action (you know what type of action I'm talking about), but it will happen in time (hopefully soon). Thanks to everyone who has reviewed.
On with the show!
Chapter 17
Search - An investigation seeking answers
Severus Snape would never have admitted it, but he was scared. Terrified even. Harry Potter hadn't awoken in ten days and Severus felt as if hadn't slept in the same amount of time. Every time he closed his eyes he saw what could happen. What might have happened. Not long ago, the thought of a brain-dead Potter wouldn't have bothered him one bit, it might have even pleased him, in a manner that could only be the result of years of bitter hatred. Now, it was a sickly dread that haunted him at the thought of the damage that had been done to Harry's body and his mind.
Pomfrey had wanted to rouse Harry to run him through a series of tests, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that they all had gathered outside the Infirmary, Severus by the young man's side. It had been five minutes before Pomfrey looked up, her eyes conveying what she did not say and Severus swore to himself angrily.
The door to the hushed room cracked open. A familiar head appeared, twinkling eyes scoping out the occupants. Severus sneered at Albus, not in the mood for his cheerful theatrics. Not today.
"Not to worry, Severus, young Harry will wake in his own time." He reassured. Severus inwardly winced at the 'young Harry'. Every time he heard such a statement it made his skin crawl. He supposed it was irrelevant cringing at the phrase now, not when he undoubtedly wouldn't be touching the boy in an illicit manner for some time, possibly never.
"Has it occurred to you that Harry may never wake?" Snape growled. "That he may very well die?" He was sick of people dancing around the subject. Death was familiar to him, as familiar as the corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons and the properties of his potions. It confused him that anyone should consider it impossible or improbable. In the world he lived in, people died just as quickly as more were born, at times faster. It was the Snape curse, he supposed.
"All we can do is hope for the best." The painfully truthful and ridiculously optimistic sentence raised a burning ire in Severus.
"That may be all you can do, sit here and hope," he spat the word out with no end of distaste. "But I am going to find a solution." With that he brushed past the Headmaster, leaving the room for the first time in days.
(-)
"Have you heard?" A head rested on his shoulder from behind, taking him by surprise.
"Heard what?" Draco asked, turning to face his girlfriend.
"Professor Snape left Harry's room."
He stared at her for a moment before reacting. "Where did he go?"
"Spain." Draco laughed.
"No, really, where?"
"Madrid, Spain. It has the best wizarding Library in the world." She said it with such an inexplicable amount of wonder and awe in her voice that Draco would have laughed if the news wasn't still sinking in.
"He actually left his soul mate to go on some crazy trip to Spain to see a library?" He was stunned by the idea. Was she really talking about Professor Snape, the same professor who had been at Potter's bedside since the incident, hardly eating and snapping at anyone who dared to get close? Well, besides Sirius Black, that was. The two once-enemies appeared to have found common ground in their manic worry about Potter. Black's werewolf had dragged him away from the room several times but no one dared remove Severus.
"It's not just a library." Hermione huffed indignantly. "But don't you see? He's trying to find a way to wake Harry up."
"Father told me Pomfrey said that whatever reason there was for Potter not waking up had to run its course."
She kissed him lightly. "Do you always listen to what your father tells you?"
Draco pressed his lips against her neck gently. "If I did, do you think I'd be going out with you?"
"Professor Snape thinks Madame Pomfrey was wrong, obviously. Personally, I think he's researching the soul mate bond. It's the only possible solution. They really should have bonded fully earlier, when they had the chance. From what I've read, that would make this much easier." She broke away to grab a book out of her bag.
"You read too much. Besides, if they'd bonded earlier, things probably wouldn't have gone this far."
"Anything could have happened." She sighed, suddenly looking much older. Draco grabbed her hand.
"How about we go visit Potter?" It was the only thing that could wipe that look off her face. Hermione would sit with him for hours reading him books or just talking to him. She said that muggles thought patients like Potter could hear people talking. Draco hoped not, because he had stumbled across quite a few unscheduled breakdowns at Potter's bedside. Teary confessions and angry ramblings both. Words that would horrify and humiliate, words spoken in a rush of sickness, anger and worry, words wrought by circumstance.
(-)
Madrid was cold this time of year. Snape pulled his cloak close around him, checking once more over the weakened bond that Harry was still alive. The reassurance was a poor second-best to seeing him with his own two eyes, but, for the moment, it was enough. He turned the corner and a colossal stone building confronted him. Towers saluted the sky about every 30 feet, the building reaching high like a god, lording over the inhabitants of the capital.
Snape shook his head at himself. Feeling intimidated by a building, he scoffed. He had far more important things to worry about than lording libraries. He entered the library, welcomed by tall bookshelves stocked with ancient tomes, edges worn with age, and even taller ceilings, painted like the Sistine Chapel, something Severus had only had the privilege of seeing once. Magic bled from every nook and cranny in the place, buzzing as if it was alive.
A short, rotund man hurried up to him, a busy looking fellow with piles of books balancing in both hands and several more floating behind him. He spoke rapid Spanish in welcome to Severus, leaving the Norfolk-raised Snape cursing his inadequate hold on the Spanish language.
"¿Habla usted inglés?" He asked, finally giving up.
"I had you pegged as an Englishman, I did." The man chuckled in his only slightly accented English. Snape sneered, why didn't the idiot start out in English then? "How can I help you?"
"Your sections on mind-magics and magical bonds, where are they?"
The man gave him a curious look that a glare from Severus quickly snuffed. "Follow that wall down to the third stairwell, take that to the third floor, cross the room in a straight line and turn left. There should be another stairwell, follow that up to the fourth floor and go through the third door on your left. Turn right and go straight forward until you see a door on your right with a yellow sign. Go through the door and walk down the corridor." The man finally stopped to breathe and Snape wondered how big this library was for the section to be that far.
He spoke too soon. "Enter the second door you pass and turn right, the mind-magics should be right in front of you."
"Right," Snape muttered.
"Would you like directions to the bonds section also?"
"Dare I say I can find it on my own?" He murmured.
"Oh, I doubt it, Sir." The man seemed to find this exceptionally funny and Severus cursed the fact that wizards always had to do things the hard way.
"Fine," Severus gave in and carefully listened to the second set of instructions.
It was two hours before he was finally able to settle in with a large selection of books. With the help of a translation spell every now and then, he slowly began to research the subject of entering a mindscape while the body was in a comatose state.
(-)
Narcissa Malfoy was sick of her husband's moping. Lucius sat in front of the fire all day and most of the night, a forlorn expression on his face. The idea of Lucius Malfoy sulking was almost ridiculous to anyone outside the family but Narcissa knew well the deep, gloomy periods of depression her husband went through. She'd been pleased to see her son hadn't taken after him in that aspect of things.
After two weeks of the disturbing behaviour Narcissa shook her head, fed up, and stalked over to the armchair in which Lucius slouched. The blond-haired man hardly acknowledged her dramatic entrance.
"Get up." She ordered.
"Pardon?" Lucius stared up at her, nonplussed.
"You heard me, up you get, I won't have you wallowing in your self pity any longer. Draco is beginning to worry."
"You don't understand, Cissa, things have spun so out of control. The Dark Lord… took… you, Potter was severely injured through fault of mine, Draco is having affairs with a muggleborn, and now Severus has gone gallivanting off on a wild goose chase in Spain, of all places!" He confessed, angry and confused.
Narcissa took his hands in hers. "Lucius, dearest, firstly, the Dark Lord may have "taken me" but I can hold my own and you rode in your shining armour soon enough. Secondly, Harry Potter will recover with time, and no one holds you responsible for thinking of the safety of your only son and heir. Thirdly, Hermione is quite a nice girl and you would know that if you had moved from this chair just once to meet her. Draco is quite disappointed you know. Lastly, I'm sure that there is rhyme and reason behind Severus' actions, as there always is, and he will return with a solution, trust me." She finished her speech with a deep breath.
"You've met Draco's girlfriend?" Was all he managed to spit out.
Narcissa sighed. Men. "Miss Hermione Granger. A talented, intelligent witch in Draco's year. Potter's friend. You really should have met her." She admonished.
Lucius nodded slowly. "Yes. I should have."
"Now that has been sorted-"
"I think I'll go meet her now."
Narcissa paused. "Now?"
"Yes. Where is my cane?" He stood up out of the chair, his back cracking as he did so, making Narcissa grimace at the sound.
"Dear, I'm sure Miss Granger is occupied with other commitments at this moment but perhaps-"
Lucius cut her off once more. "I'm sure she can spare a moment to meet her future father-in-law." He found the cane by the door.
Narcissa gaped at him in a most unladylike manner for a moment. "They never said they were going to get married." She finally protested, flustered.
"If Draco wants us to meet her, he wants to marry her." Lucius said with a finality that was beyond Narcissa.
"What makes you think that? You haven't even talked to the girl!" She insisted, quite put out by her husbands notions. Draco had most certainly not mentioned marriage, nor had Hermione. She was fairly convinced they were still in the beginning stages of their relationship.
"Believe me," Lucius assured her, one foot out the door. "He's a young man, I know how they think."
Narcissa dumbly watched the door close. My goodness, she thought, what a whirlwind! Had Lucius introduced any girls to his parents before her? She hadn't heard of any. She hadn't met any of Draco's previous girlfriends, she supposed. In fact, Draco had hardly spoken of them. Could Lucius be correct? Could a wedding be on their horizons? The thought made her toes tingle. She already had a venue in mind and a menu planned.
(-)
"Do you suppose he'll wake up today?" Ron said absently, fiddling with his school tie.
"I don't know, maybe." Hermione answered, her head resting on Draco's chest.
"Severus won't be here though."
"I hardly think that's relevant." She murmured, listening to his heart beat. It was reassuring, she thought, to really know someone was alive. The most disconcerting thing about Harry was his unnatural stillness. She somehow wanted assurance that it wasn't just his corpse, a pulse, breath, heartbeat. She often waited until Professor Snape fell asleep to check, just in case. She felt awfully silly while doing it, but she felt better once she knew.
"I hope he'll wake up soon, he's missing a lot." Seamus said from her left, moving his king out of check.
Dean sighed. "Yeah, everyone worrying madly about him, that's all he's missing."
"He's missing Professor Snape's spiral of doom, that's what he's really missing." Ron snorted humourlessly. "He's going mad."
"I would be, if I had a soul mate sick like Harry." Hermione smiled at Draco warmly, he tangled his fingers in her hair in response. She thought he was being sensitive and considerate to Severus but really he could just imagine how it would feel to have someone as unimaginably close as a soul mate in that condition.
"My aunt was in a coma once." Seamus said. "They made the decision to stop supporting her, prepared a date and everything. She woke up a couple of hours later. Uncle Liam was awfully pleased they hadn't chosen to stop earlier. Tricky business, that."
The low chatter was interrupted by a hush that spread over the Common Room. The esteemed Lucius Malfoy had made his grand entrance. Draco scrambled out of the couch, knocking Hermione over in the process and both of them ended up tangled on the floor. Malfoy senior looked puzzled.
"No need to trouble yourselves so." He remarked on their predicament.
Draco righted Hermione, apologising, and rushed to his father, taking his arm. "You're up and about!" He exclaimed, pleased.
Lucius chuckled. "You make it sound as if I am an invalid, Draco."
"No, Father, just someone who has been sitting in the same place for weeks on end. You must have bed sores by now!" Draco led him to a chair. Quiet conversations began around them once more.
"Father, this is Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas." He introduced the boys in turn. Lucius nodded in greeting. "And this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger." He gazed anxiously up at his father but he needn't have worried, Lucius shook her hand firmly and kissed her on the cheek.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all, especially you Miss Granger." Hermione blushed.
"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Sir, Draco speaks of you all the time."
"Call me Lucius, if you please." Draco had a wide smile on his face that he couldn't seem to wipe off. He'd been so worried about his father's reaction to Hermione that the relief was overwhelming.
"It must be nice for you and your wife to see Draco during the school year, excusing the circumstances. My parents miss me quite a bit when I'm gone nine months out of the year."
"Indeed, Narcissa and I find it quite interesting to see how he behaves in Hogwarts." Lucius raised an eyebrow at Draco.
Draco had no doubt his father had noticed how accepted he was into the Gryffindor tower, he was just thankful the man hadn't mentioned it. Ever since Harry had been occupied with Severus and begun to live with him, Draco had been slowly welcomed into the house. The acceptance from two thirds of the trio certainly contributed to that. Well, that in addition to the fact that Draco could be incredibly polite and charismatic when he wasn't being a spoiled brat. A strict, traditionalist pureblood upbringing took care of that.
"My mam worries after me, she says I can't be left on my lonesome for two seconds without getting into trouble."
Lucius fixed his stare on Seamus, tapping his cane as if thinking. "Seamus Finnegan. Your mother's maiden name was Uí Mháille, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"A strong Irish bloodline, you have some proud heritage there, Mr Finnegan."
Seamus laughed. "My mother says so often!"
"Anyhow, I have matters to take care of and business to attend to. Son, I will expect yourself and Miss Granger to visit your mother and I, perhaps attend a dinner this week."
"Good evening, Father. Let me walk you to the door." Draco stood and escorted Lucius to the exit.
In his wake the group breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Wow, he's intense." Dean whispered.
"Are they always so formal?" Seamus asked Hermione.
"Not always," She answered thoughtfully. "Or at least Draco isn't. It's just the way his family is in general, I think. Not cold, just elegant. Old money and all that."
"Shhh, he's coming back." Ron hissed.
Draco arrived back at the group, either not noticing that they were talking about him or not caring. Hermione thought the latter. Draco truly didn't seem to be bothered when people talked about him, revelled in it even. He thought it was terribly amusing, especially when they came to the wrong conclusions. Hermione found that attractive, his amazing lack of self-consciousness.
"I'm terribly sorry about the heritage remark," Draco apologised to Seamus. "He means well really, he just respects old families. Sorry, Dean." He nodded at the muggle-born, who took it with ease.
"It's all right, me mam is right proud of her family, she is."
"What did he think of me?" Hermione asked Draco, giving him a quick peck as he sat down next to her.
"I think he liked you," Draco grinned from ear to ear, an infectious smile that made Hermione's lips curl upwards also.
"Good."
Later, when Draco asked his mother what made Lucius come to the Gryffindor Common Room, of all places, just to meet his girlfriend, Narcissa laughed.
"I rather think he was horrified that I had beaten him to something and had to right it immediately." She replied, smiling at Lucius' fervour.
(-)
The librarian in the specialised magics section of the Madrid Wizarding Library had become accustomed to the British Master of Potions, Mr. Severus Snape, haunting his area of the renown biblioteca. The man came in as soon as the place opened, spent hours and hours poring over magical texts, and made countless notes. He did not break for lunch or dinner unless a member of the staff pushed it upon him, almost feeling obligated to look after this sickly man who would not look after himself. He stayed until an obscenely late hour, something the librarian bent the rules to allow, and left with piles of books that the Spaniard knew he spent all night reading. Alejandro Mendez did not ask the man what he was looking for, he suspected that, if the search became desperate enough, the man would ask. It would have to be an important search, Mendez thought, for the Englishman to have to examine text after text, frantically searching for something but Mendez did not know what.
Finally, after over a week of the same, Alejandro approached the Brit. The man actually flinched when he touched the other's shoulder, a true testament to his weariness. Alejandro put up both hands in surrender. "Lo siento, señor." He apologised. "I did not mean to scare you."
"You didn't scare me," The man growled. "I was merely startled."
Alejandro reached over and examined the title of the book Mr. Snape was reading. He glanced down at the man's notes, written in almost illegible script.
"It is a good book if you are looking for, er¿cómo se lo dice en Inglés? …spells, rituals… involving mind control, but otherwise the information is most certainly useless. I thought perhaps I could aid you." He gestured to a seat near Mr. Snape and the other man nodded tiredly, seemingly resigned to needing help. "What are you looking for exactly?"
The man was exact all right. Alejandro had a little trouble following Mr. Snape's English, but thanks to his steady grasp on the language he understood the majority of it. He scratched his head, deep in thought for a few minutes before resolutely borrowing Mr. Snape's quill and parchment.
"This is a list of books that would be useful to address on this matter. Some of them are Spanish, some English, and several are French. Do you speak the language?" The Englishman nodded. "That is good, translation spells do not cultivate understanding as clearly as true knowledge of a language. This one," He pointed out a book on the list. "Is Norweigan. There is a man on the second floor who can aid you with this. If you need assistance with the Spanish, I will be glad to be of help."
The man looked at him with a strange expression on his face. In an almost reverent voice, the man thanked him. Alejandro was glad to be of help to this Mr. Snape, he certainly looked as if he needed it.
(-)
Harry sat on his bed in Dudley's second bedroom. His potions text in his lap, his quill scribbled furiously on the parchment. Properties of wormwood in memory potions, Harry hurriedly wrote the essay, this plant is used with-
Hedwig fluttered her wings, hooting, perched on the rusty metal bed head. Harry turned to her. "Hedwig, you can't make that kind noise, Uncle Vernon will hear. He'll wring your neck, you know." He warned her, glancing at the door worriedly.
"The Dursleys are dead Harry." Hedwig told him.
"No, they're not," Harry protested. "They're downstairs watching Wheel of Fortune. You can hear it!"
"They're dead. You're dreaming, Harry."
"No, I'm right here, doing my Potions essay, it has to be done or Hermione will have my head, not to mention Snape!"
Hedwig's big round black eyes stared him down. "If you're not dreaming, why am I talking to you?"
Harry stared at her, doe-eyed. He looked up and saw the ceiling flying away, the night sky had no stars, instead it was a splash of colours. He panicked and backed into the wall, crouching.
"Oh shit. I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming," He repeated to himself. "This isn't real."
The wall behind him fell away and he leapt up, arms wind milling as he struggled to keep his balance. "This isn't happening. Why can't I wake up?" Harry knelt in the middle of the room, hands covering his eyes. His heart raced so fast he couldn't breathe. He could feel the bile rising in his throat.
"Why can't I wake up?"