The Blue Summer Dress

When Zee becomes annoyed with his puppy bone-stealing antics, Dubhán transforms back into a human, slips into some pajamas, and tries to let sleep take him. Zee, sensing that his boy is no longer a threat to his bone, comes and curls up against him. Dubhán puts an arm around the dog and scratches behind his ears and for a moment neither dog nor boy could be happier. Then sleep finally does take Dubhán into its dark grasp. Only Dubhán has forgotten that human minds can dream so vividly and of such horrible things. He tosses and turns amidst the nightmare playing out in his mind.

Snap. It's the sound of Apparition; a sound that shouldn't occur in the middle of the compound. All eyes turn to the newcomers and everyone sighs in relief when the wards do not shatter – it is not an attack. Geoffrey lets go of his shoulder, but his regard is stuck on the two men, and what they have brought.

Geoffrey mumbles words about new recruits and not knowing proper protocol and tries to drag Dubhán away from the scene. His eyes are transfixed. Blue summer dress. Red hair falling into a pale freckled face. Brilliant blue eyes red and puffy from crying, but still sharp and intelligent. He can't move. He remembers Geoffrey picking him up and carrying him away. He remembers trying to fight his way back. He remembers her screams, her pleas, and her fear. He remembers what they said to her as they dragged her away from him.

He's screaming. His throat is raw and his nails are digging into something soft and flesh-like. Zee is whining in his sing-song way. He throws himself against the restraints, but they only gather him in more tightly. Words, half-distorted and hard to hear, reach his ears. 'Alex' 'having' 'calm' 'swallow'. He feels the coolness of glass against his lips, but clamps his jaw and throws himself against these restraints again. Liquid spills over him only to vanish a second later. They're keeping him. He has something to do. Something that has to be done. He opens his mouth to beg with them, but then thinks better. No one can know. No one can know his plan.

Something cool fills his mouth and he struggled to spit it out, only to find his nose plugged and his jaw pushed closed. He fights with his full muster, but finally swallows. The coolness spreads into his stomach and into his veins and into his mind. The coolness seeps over the image of the blue summer dress until he slumps back against the restraints, defeated. The words aren't so hard to understand, now.

"Dubhán, it's okay. I gave you a calming draught. You had a nightmare. It's okay." There are hands carding through his hair. A heartbeat behind his own. The words keep coming. "It's over now. It can't hurt you. It's okay. Everything is okay. We're here. Da- Harry and Alex are here. We'll make sure everything is okay." He knows why the man doesn't call himself 'Dad' but the tiniest bit of Dubhán wishes the man had, despite his requests and behavior. Dubhán, after all, can't ask for it. He struggles half-heartedly against the restraints but they, at least, stay regardless of his behavior. "You're on the floor, Dubhán, please don't throw yourself around." For the first time Dubhán feels the knock on his head and the throbbing on his side.

Slowly, he lets his eyes open. In front of him is the bed, beside him is the lady, behind him, holding him, is the man. Zee is curled up on the bed, his head drooping off the side so that his nose is less than a foot away.

It hits him that the man the women are in the room they'd given him, even though they had said they wouldn't.

"You're not supposed to be here," he says, a bit defensively. He doesn't want them to see him like this – so weak. His throat is raw and his words are hoarse.

"Zee woke us up," the lady says and she motions to the door. The white-washed wood surface is now scarred with scratch marks. The drywall next to the door is half-chewed, half scratched. Dubhán admires the dog's persistence. Even now, it is watching him in concern.

"We didn't know what was going on, you were screaming," the man says. As if he needs a reminder of his stupidity or weakness. He tries to push himself away from the man, but he pulls him closer. "Dubhán, we were worried about you. We wouldn't break our word except for your safety. Zee was acting as if you were being murdered!"

"Yes, thank you sir, I get it. I was screaming. I let a nightmare get the better of me! It was stupid." The man holds tighter to him and when Dubhán looks down, to try and pry the mans fingers apart, he sees for the first time that he's not the only injured one. Up and down the mans arms are scratch marks. "I could have bitten you," he says seriously, turning in the mans arms enough to see his face.

"I actually do know my lycanthrope facts, despite what you think. You did bite me. But at worst it will make feel sick for a couple days, at best I will hardly notice." He frowns up at the man. His Grandfather would have simply cast an Ennervate and handed him a Dreamless Sleep potion, if he had bothered to do that. Most of the time Dubhán's only evidence that he'd had a nightmare was a silencing charm as it dissipated when he opened his door. Here was Harry Potter, perhaps not as powerful as his Grandfather, but certainly not weak, willing to be bitten by him, just to sooth his nightmares. It was almost too much for Dubhán to acknowledge.

"You could have just let Zee out and…put a silencing charm up." He says, without spite or argument. He's just letting them know. Perhaps they hadn't known it was an option.

"Dubhán, we would never do that. We care about what's happening to you. We don't think any less of you for having nightmares. We don't want to shut you up and forget it happened, we want to help you through whatever is bothering you." Dubhán looks up in the lady's eyes and knows she must simply be trying to sooth him. She can't really believe her words. More than a tiny part of his heart wants to believe her, so badly. But he knows she's just placating him.

"I won't tell you anyways. You can't make me." Yes, he ought to be clarifying this point for them. They weren't going to murmur soft words to him and expect him to give up his secrets. They were just trying to get him to betray Grandfather. That had to be it.

"That's okay," the man says, "you don't have to tell us. You don't have to tell us now and you don't have to tell us later – but if sometime you feel like you want to tell us, we'll always be here to listen." But they wouldn't, would they? Because Grandfather was going to figure out way to get him back, and then it would be silencing charms and Ennervate and the disgusting taste of Dreamless Sleep. He licks his lips, slowly realizing that they taste like cherries.

"What potion was that?" He asks, skeptical. Had they poisoned him?

"It was a calming draught, but when Emma has nightmares she outright refuses to swallow anything 'yucky' so I bribed Severus to make me some 'yummy' ones. I give him hard-to-find venom in exchange." The man is swaggering his eyebrows like Sirius. Dubhán masters the urge to smile.

"Grandfather says you can talk to snakes…" he says.

"I can. Can you?" Dubhán looks away, at his feet, which are next to the man's feet, a reminder again of what he can't grow to count on. This is weakness.

"I don't know…I think Grandfather avoids me being around snakes because…I would be such a disappointment if I couldn't. He won't even let Nagini near me." The man's arms pull him close to his chest.

"It shouldn't be something you are judged by, little one." He says, whispering right against his ear. Dubhán frowns at the nickname. The man has never said it before. Somehow, although he scolds himself, he rather likes the name.

"I don't think I can, anyways. I don't think I'm enough his side." The man is laughing and Dubhán finds himself hurt. It was so stupid of him to let the man see his weakness! Now he would use it against him!

"Dubhán?" He says and Dubhán turns around to see his smile, scowling at the expression. "You just did. You just spoke to me in Parseltongue." Dubhán blinks a couple times.

"I did?" He asks, so softly, so afraid that Potter will choose this moment to admit 'no, you stupid boy, I lied!' and laugh at him for his naiveté.

"Yes, really. If I summon a snake for you so you can see for yourself, do you promise you'll let me clean those scrapes and go back to sleep?" He nods without much thought, so eager to find out. Oh how Grandfather would be proud! He would smile and put a finger under his chin and say 'you are a good boy, Dubhán' and everything would be right!

Potter summons a small harmless-looking snake and Dubhán looks at the serpent and says "Hello?"

"Hello speaking-one." Dubhán nearly falls backwards, but Potter catches him.

"You can understand me?"

"Yess, you are speaking to me," it replies, beginning to look around.

"Can I send him back, now?" Potter says, and from the way the snakes head swivels to regard him, Dubhán thinks he must be speaking Parseltongue too. Dubhán nods. When the snake is gone, he dutifully climbs into bed, stretches out his arms, and lets Potter cover each scrape.

Alexandra excuses herself to go check on Emma, and Dubhán feels a tiny pang of guilt at the thought he might have woken her up. Potter is quick to reassure him that Emma was fine once she knew it was only a nightmare. He swallows. Had she seen him screaming? But he hides such things quickly. He'd made Potter a promise. And really, at the moment, his happiness and being able to do such a Slytherin thing really over-rode whatever guilt he was feeling.

Potter tucked him under the blankets and brushed his hair away from his forehead and after some awkward lingering, dropped a kiss atop his head. Dubhán lay perfectly still after he'd left, mesmerized.

I wanted to send a shout out to MissVenusVixen for her lovely reviews! I look forward to them every time! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. :) Thank you to everyone who has reviewed!

Next up will be "The Day After Tomorrow" which of course, means Severus Snape! I've been reading up on an awesome site where you can read everything Snape said in all seven books. I'm hoping to get over my Severus Snape writing phobia. ;) By now you should have figured out why he looked so surprised at Devlin and his first encounter. I sure hope you have, because the snarky potion master doesn't seem the type to tell you folks outright!

Please review! Please send encouraging word about writing Snape! Send suggestions – what do you think his first words would be upon seeing Devlin for the second time? Hmm? How do you think he likes being treated like bloody famous Harry Potter?

Update...I actually have the whole next chapter ready, but I'll wait until it's not nearly 2am to post it. Perhaps Snape wasn't that scary after all! Hope I actually wrote him well. :) See ya in the morning.