A/N: Hey guys! I had the largest freak out I thought I'd lost the second half of this chapter Oo, but it was in a copy on my desktop :cries tears of happiness over the fact she didn't have to try and write it again:
Sorry for that mass review but I really wanted to get this chapter up! Yay individual replies to reviews for everyone again! I'm so glad you all enjoyed the darker turn this fic is taking, if you have any complaints, ideas, suggestions or anything please just drop me a line and I'll get back to you!
Thanks again for your wonderful reviews! And if anyone can read French (sadly I can't) or knows anyone who can, I have an interesting sounding fic by Koredik. Good Luck with your exams!
Now let us continue our trek into darkness.
Warning and Disclaimer in first chapters.
HP
He wasn't hiding.
Not from his memories.
Not from himself, from Snape, from everyone who saw only the pure being who was their supposed saviour.
Not from his failure.
Or so he tried to tell himself as he sat for the rest of the evening, his back against the cold stone wall, his knees drawn up, in the empty classroom.
Harry didn't move from his position as he stared blankly at a spot on the floor a few feet away. The only sign of life was the swollen bottom lip that was moving back and forth between his teeth.
He remembered he had spent a whole day after the actual incident trying to shove the memory, the experience into the back of his mind where he could forget it ever happened. He'd succeeded to a point where he could brush over the night, acknowledging that it had happened, but not involve himself in the actual memory.
Now, the images, the sounds and sensations flooded back through him, he was forced to face them again. Forced to face himself and his actions.
The numbness he'd created around himself melted away when warmth spilled over his tongue. Blood. He'd succeeded in gnawing through his lip, and with the taste came the stinging pain and awareness. Standing slowly he pulled the robe a little closer around him, he could feel the bones in his body protest at the movement after having sat in the cold in the same position for the last few hours.
But Harry knew he had to get moving again, he couldn't try to shove the memory into the far reaches of his mind. He would have to live with his actions and their consequences, even if it meant self-hatred and disgust. But then, he had become familiar with them over his past years.
He couldn't hide from those.
SS
Severus could feel the anger burning in the back of his throat.
How dare that brat take such liberties!
Did he have no idea of privacy?
Was he so selfish that he would reveal such a reckless piece of information to his godson?
To his Draco.
The thought slammed into the side of his head as Snape stalked towards the dungeons. Oh God, Draco knew that- Biting his lip Severus tried not to curse in every language he could think of as he almost stumbled. He could feel the young body he was in rebel against his control and the burn in the back of his eyes spilled over his barriers and slid down his cheeks in hot tears of anger and defeat.
Draco would hate him now, the boy would find him disgusting, used, nothing worthy of his time. The small blonde boy Severus had taken care of over the years of his life would never see the man he had once looked up to, the man he had offered comfort to, he would only see someone he would never want to become. Seveus could feel the pain in his chest throbbing in time with the pain in his hand.
He had tried so hard to hold onto the small gift the boy had given him. His Godson was the only one he had allowed close, and the comfort the boy offered with his mere presence was something that had kept Severus going. In the last year of the war when Severus had been caught between his two masters, the hatred and fear directed at him from those he once knew, the self-disgust and the need to be cleansed, to remove the dark stain his existence had become from the world, the newborn had held his finger in a tight little fist and smiled.
It was after the war when the accusations started flying and all his work as a spy was ground in to the dust by placid fools who had watched the war from behind locked windows, that he doted on the boy the most. He remembered Narissa complaining with that small smile of hers that her son wouldn't go to bed without a story from his Sevus. And he had clung onto the feeling of being wanted, needed. And he still was, he was the boys confidant of sorts… or had been until that damn Potter had said those things. Not that Draco didn't know about Death Eaters and their job description. He'd heard of the murders, he'd even been privy to the knowledge of the rape and torture of captives, but neither Lucius or Severus had told him of the way the Dark Lord toyed with his followers. Severus hadn't wanted to loose his Godson and Lucius hadn't wanted to loose his son, but he knew he was living on borrowed time, and now he would have to pay it back.
James would be proud of his son.
The Potters always succeed in ruining his life.
HP
Harry had retreated to the potions classroom, letting his mind wander as he read though the assignments, his red inked quill scrawling messages which he hoped were in a Snape like fashion. He had wanted to do it in the man's office but he didn't know the password and couldn't face the potions professor at the moment, afraid the man would see the truth in his eyes.
"Why are you marking those again sir?" Harry looked up to the boy who had managed to get all the way across the room without him noticing. He could usually detect people much easier, he really mustn't have been concentrating.
Harry noticed the boy was waiting for an answer, and he tried to rack his brain.
"I believe I will be forced to set it as a holiday essay alongside the project. Now what did you need Draco?" He answered looking down at the messy handwriting of the paper he was marking.
"Is something wrong sir?" The voice was soft and Harry had to swallow the need to break down and cry, but he had to be strong while he was in this body, had to show everyone that he was still Snape the greasy bastard.
"Nothing, now how can I help you?" Harry looked up and only then realised the boy was more dressed up then usual, there was something different about him. He looked nervous.
"I was wondering if you could tell me if I looked alright."
"And what would be the special occasion?" A rye smile and a lift of the eyebrow. The boy blushed.
"I have a study date with Granger."
"Really, you go to all the effort of trying to look casual yet smart and you call her Granger. Who exactly are you trying to fool?" Draco's mouth opened but closed again.
"So you think it's too much?"
"You aren't courting some socialite, I'm sure she would feel just as uncomfortable with you turning up as some dressed up mannequin, which is what you look like holding yourself like that, or worse she may believe you are turning up like that just to show her up, that you are a pure blood. Just wear your school robe so you are on equal footing." Harry could see the realisation slip across the boys face, before he muttered a grateful thank you and rushed out, probably to get changed.
So they had organised a study date. Harry couldn't help the grin that settled on his lips. About time. He'd watched them skirting around each other for so long, and now was actually a rather good time for this to happen, he could instruct Draco on all the things his best friend liked and Snape, if he played along, could help Hermione deal with the boy.
Harry frowned, crossing off a series of words. He'd been referring to Draco as a boy, in the sense that the blonde was younger. They were the same age but Harry felt so much older, maybe it was just this body he was in playing tricks on him. He brushed it off as he started another essay, he'd work himself into exhaustion and hopefully Snape would be in bed and asleep by then.
SS
He stalked through the dungeons, intent on loosing himself in cold stone and darkness. The tears were cooling on his face as he tried to hold the rest from falling, but he couldn't stop the pain that ached in his chest.
One small word had brought this upon him, had seen his life crumble around him, everything he held destroyed by that brat. He had agreed to help the boy with his holiday project.
All he had wanted to do was help the boy, make him realise that the world didn't revolve around him, that he didn't have the skills nor knowledge to even consider going up against the Dark Lord. Instead it had been the biggest mistake of his life. The small voice in the back of his mind disagreed with him, supplying a few other mistakes he had made which could be considered much worse. He ignored it, intent on letting the rage build in his chest.
He didn't notice the torches flicker as he made his way further into the maze beneath the school.
He had even begun to trust the boy as he found out more of the hidden facets the younger kept behind his mask. It wasn't that Severus had never noticed the mask, it was more the fact he had chosen to ignore it, had brushed it off as a thin layer of deception the boy put up to have others like him, much in the same hollow manner his father had constructed an image that everybody had worshipped.
He hadn't realised it was a whole life the boy had constructed to make others see what he wanted them too, and there was more to uncover from what he had heard. He had almost been tempted to explore the person he had found, but now…
He didn't notice the castle objecting as his hurried steps carried him down the long corridor.
Now he could only try and ignore the details of the pain. He didn't want to admit he had felt betrayed, he didn't want to admit that he may have found himself more than tolerating the boy, that he had somehow slipped into the small cracks of his defences with the quick wit and sharp tongue he surprisingly possessed. Severus didn't want acknowledge that he could almost see himself reflected in the boys mannerisms, didn't want to be connected with the boy in anyway.
He didn't notice the statues sway warily as he swept passed them
Especially now that he knew the boy knew, had known all along, had seen what he was. The degradation he put himself through, how he was stained, unclean and impure. And all along he was probably laughing behind his back, making fun of the dirty and lowly teacher who whored himself to the dark.
He didn't notice the hinges scream in protest as doors buckled when he passed.
Snivellus who would never amount to anything.
The stones beneath his feet groaned.
The weakling who was merely a waste of time.
The walls wavered.
The useless boy who couldn't save his brother.
HP
Harry felt the castle stir around him, the torches flickering violently, green in the depths of their flames.
He was on his feet and racing down the corridor as fast as he was able.
He could only hope he would get there in time.