Title:
The boy that forgot to die

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 26th 2011

Timeframe:
Second year at Hogwarts

Summary:
AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be, and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?

Disclaimer:
I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, nor about most of the other characters in HP … I, however, would like to own one particular Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …

Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in "The boy that forgot to die"
Zilly would be able brewing each potion he taught at Hogwarts without his help if necessary.
So, he knew that no further instructions about how to mix them was needed and when the house elf came back a minute later, holding a vial with a purple potion, he knew that it was the one he wanted. He wordlessly took the small glass container, placed it at Harry's lips and then dipped the vial to pour its contents into the boy's mouth.
Again, like he had done twice now with the child since he had come here, he clasped his hand over the boy's mouth and nose, pulling him closer even.
Just swallow the potion, Harry." He instructed. "I will release you the moment you have swallowed, come now, child, Merlin, please! Just do it for me, child! I promise I will release you the moment you have swallowed this potion."

The boy that forgot to die
Chapter twenty-six
Welcome to hell
Or famous last words

Again, like he had done twice now with the child since he had come here, he clasped his hand over the boy's mouth and nose, pulling him closer even.

"Just swallow the potion, Harry." He instructed. "I will release you the moment you have swallowed, come now, child, Merlin, please! Just do it for me, child! I promise I will release you the moment you have swallowed this potion."

The only thing that happened was a small body in his arms getting rigid, thin legs kicking out again and he wasn't sure if the child in his arms even realized that he wasn't in front of him anymore but behind him, that he only kicked at thin air, or if the boy again just kicked to say, "stay away from me!" to threaten anyone who might be close to him, who could harm him.

Another memory, one of Vernon Dursley's hands around a skinny neck, and he could feel the boy ceasing his struggle, going limp, reaching the edge of consciousness and a moment later he could feel him swallowing. Immediately he took his hand off Harry's mouth, not sure if the small body going limp really had been a memory or if he really had reached the edge of consciousness.

The child however pulling his head away and throwing it back against his chest again the moment he had released him showed that – it had been a memory and the child was well away from that edge, and quickly he placed his hand at the pale forehead, to restrain Harry's head against his shoulder once more, ignoring the pain in his chest and ignoring the horror he felt at the scene at all.

On one hand he was glad that the child tried to defend himself in the first place, hoping that he had given Vernon Dursley the same trouble he was giving him right now, but on the other hand – not only did he know that the boy had not defended himself against his uncle, because somehow he knew that this here, this need to defend himself, that it was new, but also did he know that – if he had given Vernon Dursley the same trouble, then that might have been the reason as to why Vernon Dursley had become violently enough in his abuse of the child to kill his own nephew. Not that it was a sensible reason, but apparently a reason to Dursley.

Well, it took the potion less than a minute to kick in, the child getting calmer and calmer with the seconds ticking by, until he ceased his struggle completely and then he had a very still child in his arms, a child so still that it was scary after the violent struggle the boy had done before. Getting off the floor he gently lifted the still body into his arms and then started his way to Harry's room.

Silent tears ran down a pale face and the child in the cupboard tried to rock himself to sleep, a whispered "why … please … why don't you get me, daddy?" on his lips.

Forcing himself out of the child's memories again, his hands tightening protectively around the small ghost form of his son, he nearly stumbled, his body only then noticing that he already had reached the child's room, only then noticing the change in environment, his feet hitting the thick carpet suddenly – he was already through the door of the child's room and went towards the bed, nearly blind with the burning of his eyes at not only the scene he had witnessed a second ago but at the child's words as well.

So, the boy had already known when he'd been so small, and no one had come.

So, the child had asked for him to come and get him only Merlin knew how often – but no one had ever come.

So, the child had felt the disappointment of being abandoned by his own father – and he, Severus Snape, he had thought that the child would be a spoiled prince!

He managed to place the small body onto the soft bed in his room and he even managed to cover the ghostlike and trembling form of his son before the next onslaught of memories washed over him, another onslaught of memories with the Dursleys he witnessed, another onslaught that dragged by painfully slowly, sporting several injuries which were severe enough so that they normally would have led to a few hospital visits, but the boy never had been taken to a hospital, a reminder of how strong this child's magic was, his magic being the only thing keeping him alive over and over again and for so long – until in the end it had given halfway way, the child ending up as a half-ghost of some sort.

And despite the hell he found himself in, he did not pull his hand away from the pale forehead, did not pull himself out of his son's mind, unable to leave the boy alone right now. He didn't know if it even would make any difference, if the ghostlike child even noticed his presence in his mind, but he didn't care, he stayed and watched and tried to, at least, being there even if he couldn't do anything – because while he had watched Harry throughout the past few days and weeks, because while he had watched him fighting, fighting to keep his fears under control, fighting to keep his pain under control, and fighting to keep his despair under control, while he had watched him trying to please and to give his best efforts, his respect and toleration for the boy had been steadily growing, as had his affection for the child.

But by what he had seen right now – Merlin, how could he make anything good for the child? How could he ease any of the pain the child surely must feel? How could he safe this child and raise him to become an – at least somewhat – normal teenager and adult? How?

He immediately knew that the answer was – never.

This child would always suffer from those years with the Dursleys, even if he were an adult – if he were to survive so far, that was – he would suffer and there was nothing he, Snape, could do against it. Maybe he would be able to help ease the pain with time, but it would always be there, he knew, not even he, as experienced as he was when it came to child abuse and the aftermath of it – not even he would be able battling such horror.

And it wasn't any child even – it was his son!

Looking down he breathed a sigh of relief at his son having fallen asleep in his arms and he leaned back against the headboard of the child's bed, allowing himself to relax, too, while his traitorous fingers unconsciously moved to run over the pale forehead and through the damp hair. There would be no chance that the child would be able going to classes today – and neither would he.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The next morning came and removing himself from the boy's grasp he carefully climbed out of the bed and proceeded to just as carefully creep to the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed, again wondering what he could do to make it any easier for the child, for his son.

"'M sorry." Came the softly murmured words from his son and he turned nearly sighing. He had hoped that the boy would sleep longer than just those few hours between the early morning hours and now. The child needed rest, especially after the last night.

"There is no reason for you to apologize." He softly said, approaching the bed his son was meanwhile sitting in. "You have been captured in a violent nightmare and we have dealt with it, you have done nothing wrong."

"Have." The boy murmured and it was clear that he did remember what had happened the night before. "Have hit you." The boy then murmured.

"That might be, but at the same time you have reassured me that if you ever will be in danger, your attacker will have a very hard time to get to you and anyone attempting to hurt you better prepare for a fight that is worth being mentioned."

"Really?" The boy asked, peering up at him between strands of black hair and he took a deep breath, wincing at the pain this move caused in his chest where the boy had hit his head twice last night.

"Really." He answered. "I have hardly ever had to fight anyone like I'd had to fight you last night, and believe me, I am used to fighting in not only wizarding ways."

Well, the idiot child must have seen him wincing when he had drawn a deep breath because he looked down again, apologizing.

"Like I said – there is no need to apologize." He said, sitting down onto the edge of the bed. "Any attacker should be prepared for a lot of pain if attacking you and I am glad to know that you are able defending yourself so well."

"Haven't 'gainst un'le V'non." The boy murmured, averting his eyes and playing with the hem of his pyjama top.

"What do you think would have happened if you ever had tried to defend yourself against your uncle?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at his son. It really was time to pay a visit to his loving brother in law. He would do so after he had made sure that Harry would survive – in his ghost form or in his physical form, either way, he didn't care as long as he did survive.

"He'd kill me." The boy murmured back at him.

"He would have killed you, is the keyword Harry, because you won't go back there ever." He said, frowning while he thought that – actually, he already had killed the child – in a way at least.

There was no answer.

"Exactly, child." He sighed, reaching out to run his hand through the black mop of hair before he placed his palm at a pale cheek. "You have been in no position to defend yourself against that man, Harry, and you are not to blame yourself for not doing so. It actually might have been the more intelligent decision that might have saved your life so far and it only is proof of your strength that you have lived through all the abuse for so long without once faltering and doing something stupid."

Well, the child only huffed for a moment before he sighed.

"Have hurt you, and you should hate me." Harry managed to say between half-sobs. "Why don't you?"

"Because I – because I love you, Harry." Was Severus' calm answer after a moment of hesitation as if he had to consider how to express this bit of information, about love of all things. "And because it isn't your fault what happens while you are captured in a dream. And because you do not deserve to be hated. You very much deserve to be loved like any other child, Harry."

Harry couldn't help basking in those words.

Well, maybe the stupid Potions Master shouldn't have said this, because he couldn't help believing the man's words and soon Harry's sobs reached a near hysterical level, sobbing and crying again like a fool, but then he felt the weight from his guardian's hand release his cheek, moments before a strong arm reached out and pulled him tightly against a warm chest.

'Because I love you.' He replayed the words in his mind, mentally holding onto them the same as he continued to physically hold onto Severus Snape, the stupid Potions Master.

"Won't hurt you 'gain." He murmured. "Next time I'll get 'wake quicker."

"Famous last words." Severus replied with a shaking of his head, although he still kept his arms tightly encircled around the infuriating boy.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was later in the day, shortly before lunchtime, when Binns stuck his head through the floo in his potions classroom, calling out to him in a clearly panicked voice and cursing under his breath he threw the quill onto the table, cast a quick stasis spell over the cauldrons and then dismissed the startled seventh year Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

They were experienced enough with his ways so that they all were out of his classroom within a minute and then he quickly threw floo powder into the fireplace in his office, calling out for Binn's office, all the while wondering how Harry had managed to sneak out of his room and into the history of magic classroom.

He had explicitly forbidden the boy to visit classes anytime soon and he himself had given all his potions classes below NEWT over to the headmaster while he had thought that he could leave the boy alone for ninety minutes today and tomorrow. Apparently, he had thought wrong and scowling he stepped out of the fireplace and into the office of the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts. It was empty.

Going over to the history classroom he opened the door without even knocking first and then entered the classroom – to find it without a teacher and without his son either.

He noticed his godson looking over at him with a pale face, sitting in the classroom amongst the other second year students and reading a part in his history book which Binns apparently had appointed to them while he was gone. The Slytherins, Granger and Longbottom looked startled, and the Gryffindors looked as if they didn't understand what exactly was going on, except for Weasley, Thomas and Finnigan which even smirked – what caused his facial expression to darken considerably and to harden. If those three had anything to do with whatever problem had occurred, then they definitely would find themselves in a world of trouble.

Draco said something but he didn't even listen to the boy while he, without a question, turned and went back into the office he just had left, taking the floo powder from the mantle and throwing it into the fireplace. He knew where he would find the history teacher and the missing student that happened to be his wayward son!

How had that blasted brat managed to leave their quarters, his office and then his classroom while he had been inside there teaching the seventh years? That boy would find himself in deep trouble as soon as he was back to health and –

But he wouldn't ever be back to health, he suddenly realized. And if he had floated through the walls to sneak out, like all the ghosts did, like he had done a few days ago to listen in on the conversation he'd had with Minerva a few days earlier, then it only was proof of how very much of a ghost the child already had become.

He was a ghost, a dead child, and he never would be back to health.

The moment he stepped out of the infirmary floo – he'd had no idea of the emotional flood that would hit him at the sight of his son, laying on one of those beds and rocking back and forth in apparent pain. Merlin! He had seen the torture the boy had endured at the hands of his uncle and for years, he had felt the fear and the humiliation, the despair the boy had went through and for another moment he wondered how Harry could even be sound after that amount of abuse.

But right now, Snape's heart just broke at the sight of the unresponsive boy that only was laying there on the bed, rocking back and forth and back and forth, and he wanted nothing more than to fix things for him and make them right while he wondered if the child really was so sound still like he made himself belief. Maybe it only had been wishful thinking.

"What happened, Cuthbert?" He softly asked while taking the boy's shoulders, prepared to have the child hitting and kicking at him like he'd done the night before, but nothing happened, only the rocking motions getting more forceful than they had been a moment ago and he tightened his grip, trying to stop the child's frantic rocking motions.

"He dropped." Binns said while Poppy was running a diagnostic, the pale eyes of the ghost teacher resting on the ghost child that gave a distressed sound away at being held, at being kept from his rocking movements as if he needed any way of outlet, never mind what kind of outlet. "I didn't have time to call up the monitoring charm I have on my classroom to see what exactly had caused it, I never do normally, but well, from what I have seen, he had dropped and hit his head at one of the chairs. I am sure I have seen him falling with his chest against one of the desks as well, but I'm not sure of that. I immediately contacted you and then brought him here."

"I do thank you, Cuthbert." He said while starting to undress the boy. "Not only for taking care of the situation but for acknowledging the fact that it is my son, and that I might want to be informed if something happened to him." He then added while he frowned – yes, there indeed was a nasty bruise forming over Harry's chest, a new bruise that had not been there and he wondered – would this one stay like the others? Or would it vanish like the older bruises had before he had become a ghost as it had nothing to do with his death?

Feeling with his fingers over the boy's ribs, he caused the child to whimper out in pain, but he easily could notice the broken rib and he summoned a small vial of skele-gro to rub it over the broken bone, remembering the memory he just last night had seen, a small and hungry child in a cupboard that was beaten and kicked at until the fragile bones broke.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I am trying to not being so strict with you, seeing that you've had enough on your shoulders so far, but there is a certain behaviour that I will not tolerate!" He said, only hours later. He had healed the boy's broken rib and he had healed the boy's cut on the side of his head. He had given him a pain reliever and a calming draught, and he had gotten him into a deep sleep for the next few hours so that he could heal peacefully while he himself had sat onto the chair beside his son's bed, watching the child, waiting until he would wake.

He could have summoned a book to read, or he even could have left to do something else while the boy slept, but he knew that – perhaps it would be the last time he could watch his son sleeping, perhaps it would be the last time he could sit beside his son and simply watch him, because perhaps the boy would die today, or perhaps he would die tomorrow. He would not waste this time for trivial things when he could use it for time spent with his son, even if his son was sleeping, because perhaps there wouldn't be any time left he could spend in his son's presence ever again in only a few hours or days, he didn't know.

This particular child that happened to be his son just cut it too short for his liking sometimes.

The bruise on his chest had faded and he was sure that it wouldn't stay like the others, but that it would vanish, and while the boy had been asleep he had watched the record Binns had done in his classroom. The history teacher had told him that he never called the records up, he was just too lazy for watching them all the time – as were most of the teachers – but that he had the charm activated nevertheless, just in case – something he'd been glad for, he had to admit that. Well, as they soon had seen – for once Weasley was not to be blamed. Harry had come in together with the others, Draco talking to him, telling him that he would be in trouble if he didn't go back – what he actually was now – and Harry answering that he couldn't just miss classes, that he'd be in trouble if he did – a moment later the child had started swaying and had dropped, a fact that worried him to no end, the child dropping in the early morning hours already when he should be well rested.

"And one of those certain behaviours being your utter lack of concern for your own health." He continued his angry rant. "I will not stand for you putting your health in further jeopardy and ghost or not ghost, your life already is at stack, and we cannot afford any more dangerous situations, so if you disobey me again I will have no other chance than to punish you." He then added, wanted to make sure Harry understood completely. "I have forbidden you to go to classes and you sneaked out of not only your room but our quarters, my office and my classroom to do just that! Such a thing will not happen again, is that clear?"

"Yes sir." Harry said as he cringed into a tight ball and averted his eyes, looking away from the professor, wondering what his father meant with – he'd had to punish him. "Sorry, sir." He added, just to be on the safe side. He doubted that it would make that big of a difference, it never had made a difference with his uncle after all, but – well, better safe than sorry. A moment later he could feel himself slipping into darkness when sleep claimed him again.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in "The boy that forgot to die"
It is time

Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, like in the past, I have installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get points. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …
Please also note that I have done a 'go over' concerning the house points as I have lost track over the years. I have them now saved in a chart where I can keep them easily updated – I have also installed a new category: Hogwarts, as one reader or another (Jostanos, just for example) prefers to review for Hogwarts itself instead of one of her houses … and who knows, perhaps one day a reader might come from another wizarding school to add their review … thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

Slytherin 68
Gryffindor 36
Ravenclaw 25
Hufflepuff 08
Hogwarts 20