"Avada Kedavra!" Moody's voice boomed through the classroom as the spell hit the enlarged spider. The air stiffened. It was as if some invisible force wave brushed over the horrified students. It was so quick that if one had blinked, they would've easily missed it. Somebody screamed in the background; others gasped.
Harry just watched.
His eyes were glued to Moody's wand tip. He saw the exact moment the spell, the green ray of light, shot out of it, mercilessly hitting the spider. There was a distinct hissing sound, not dissimilar to the sound of frying bacon Harry had cooked countless times for his relatives' breakfasts. But this time, he wasn't in a familiar kitchen with an open pack of cured meat in his hand and a pan with hot oil sizzling on the stove; no. This time, the hissing sound had a much more sinister undertone, an accompanying melody to the immediate death that the animal experienced.
And the green.
So much green, bright, vivid, dizzying. Harry could not look away. He was frozen, petrified in his chair, eyes unmoving, eyelids unblinking. His breathing muscles refused all cooperation, and his lungs were quickly running out of oxygen.
He barely registered when Moody made a remark about Harry surviving the deadly unforgivable curse. The hair on his arms stood up when somebody muttered the "Boy Who Lived" comment. Nausea rose within his throat, previously consumed food threatening to make a reappearance.
The Boy Who Lived.
It always seemed like an unfinished statement to Harry. He was forever branded with it, but nobody spoke about the second and more important part of that nickname. He was the "boy who lived" Because His Parents Died. They died, and in their final moments, all they saw was that green.
Green. Green. Green.
Harry's vision became swallowed by it. His parents died in the same abrupt manner the spider did. There were no injuries, no scratches, and (Harry idled himself) no pain. Just that green light and that bone-chilling hiss as each and every cell of their bodies was fried. Fried like the bacon Harry cooked for his relatives when he was little. For his aunt and uncle, whom he used to live with because his parents were dead. Dead like the spider that Moody swiftly swept off the table in the next instance. Dead because of the green.
Harry's mind short-circuited, and he started to swim in endless cycles.
Spider. His parents. Green. Death. Death.
It was worse than the encounter with the Dementor he experienced last year. No amount of chocolate could weather the storm raging in Harry's thoughts. His insides turned into mush, limbs a trembling consistency. His mother's voice was ringing in his ears, tuning out anything else. Moody and the DADA classroom were just a distant memory.
He needed out. Now.
Harry's body reacted faster than his numb brain could. Somehow, his legs supported his weight and he felt himself standing up. Then he broke into a frantic run, slamming the door behind him. He left everything behind, not caring how pathetic or desperate he must have looked. Moody yelled something after him, but his words were an incoherent buzz.
Harry's heavy steps echoed in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, his feet stomping against the stone floor, but all he could hear was his mother. He ran, but he couldn't escape the screams; he couldn't out-chase the green ray of light.
It didn't take long for Harry to start panting heavily. His breathing was ragged and irregular, but his legs would simply not stop moving. He descended staircase after staircase, almost getting motion sickness from the way the stairs twisted and turned in one direction. He barely registered where he was going, but it did not matter to him. He needed to distance himself from the DADA classroom as much as possible.
A familiar corridor appeared before him with an even more familiar door. The sudden chilly air around him and lack of natural light served as additional clues to where his distraught mind led him.
The dungeons.
Harry almost laughed at the realization. Of course, it was the dungeons. It has been his place for comfort for years; or better to say, the person who was no doubt behind the door. The door that led to the infamous Potions classroom.
He didn't even break his stride as he rushed towards the entrance, grasping at the doorknob like it was his only lifeline. Maybe it was. Harry twisted the piece of metal and then robustly barged in, needing to see Severus.
And he saw him; as soon as he entered the room. His parents were dead, but his guardian wasn't. Snape was standing there in all his glory and black clothes, a deep scowl decorating his facial features. The memory of the green light was extinguished by the darkness that surrounded Severus. The blackness that once scared Harry was now his home.
But that was, unfortunately, not all Harry saw. A bunch of startled first-year faces with confusion written all over their expressions came into his view, making his stomach twist with dread again.
Oh no.
Harry's brain rebooted, and he finally took complete control of his actions. In that instance, he also realized he had just invaded Snape's classroom in the middle of a lesson. His laboured gasps echoed loudly in the tense silence.
Nobody moved, nobody spoke.
Harry's eyes found Severus's, getting lost in their bottomless depth. One glance told him more than a thousand words could have; the man was livid. And yet, despite everything, for a fraction of a second, the mere look at Snape brought Harry comfort in a way nothing else could. His tense body relaxed, if only slightly.
Grasping at something to say, to justify the completely inexcusable visit, Harry's scrambled mind raced to conjure a semblance of purpose, an explanation that could cloak the raw vulnerability that had driven him to Snape's doorstep.
"Uh… this is not the loo…" he mumbled under his breath at last and then he exited the room in the same fashion he made his grand entry. Quickly.
As he rushed down the corridors, panic made itself known again. Seeing Severus was a fleeting summer breeze, gone with yet another huge storm brewing in Harry's chest. The flashes of green returned, the spider's lifeless body being swept mercilessly into the bin replaying before his eyes over and over and over again.
Were my parents' bodies dealt with in a similar manner?
That did it.
That morbid, dreadful question triggered something in Harry. Something that was buried so abysmally deep it was never supposed to be exposed to the light of day. Something so raw it felt like Harry's chest had been stabbed, his heart carved out, and submerged into acid.
He somehow made it out of the castle. All his muscles blazed with exertion, eyes stinging painfully, but Harry ran and ran and ran until he reached the edge of the Black Lake. There, he collapsed onto the solid, cold ground, and wept.
Harry mourned his parents like never before, tears falling down his cheeks in a one, consistent stream. He wasn't loud, he did not sob; a habit he developed back when he lived with the Dursleys. Not seen, not heard. A motto that was drilled into his young mind, too young to understand the gruesomeness of it. He hugged his knees, seeking warmth his body did not have. It was a cold October day.
An unexpected rustling behind his back made him jump. It sounded suspiciously like steps and swishing of robes. Harry knew who it was without having to turn around. Moreover, he was too overwhelmed with grief to spare any leftover attention for Severus.
"What happened with their bodies?" Harry blurted out when Snape crouched down next to him and a slender hand rested on his shoulder. His voice was weak and hoarse as if he swallowed a fistful of sandpaper.
"I beg your pardon?" Severus replied, tone dripping with a mixture of confusion and concern.
"My p-parents," Harry's tongue stumbled on the word, and he let out a quiet whimper as if it physically pained him to even speak it out loud.
There was a long pause, during which Harry just stared unseeingly into the distance ahead, far beyond the Black Lake. Then, the grip on his shoulder tightened.
"They were handled with utmost care," Severus whispered. His hand slid down onto Harry's back, rubbing in small circles.
Harry nodded mutely, not trusting himself to say anything else. Another pause followed.
"What happened, Harry?" Severus asked gently at last.
Severus's soothing touches on Harry's back never ceased, yet strangely, the more he tried to calm him, the worse Harry felt. He couldn't settle on one emotion—swinging between deep sadness and uncontrollable anger. It was like a never-ending rollercoaster of feelings. Severus's attempts to help just stirred up more turmoil. At that moment, the attempt at comfort became part of the problem, adding to the mess rather than calming it. Harry was caught between wanting support and feeling like everything was falling apart.
"Oh, nothing much," Harry drawled at last, stubbornly standing up and successfully escaping the bodily contact. The pot with his emotions overfilled, and he needed to let them out somehow, somewhere, before he imploded. Crying didn't help him the way he hoped it would. Having Severus there for him did not help. He had to scream, scream the same way his mother was still insistently screaming in his ears, in his very soul.
"My parents were just murdered by a madman," Harry continued, meeting Severus's puzzled glance with his challenging one. The man also stood up but did not come closer to Harry, keeping him at arm's length.
"They died protecting me, begging for my life! And the very last thing they saw was that green light! I can't get it out of my head. The green. The screams. The helplessness! The green… green…"
Harry deflated almost as fast as he set himself aflame, all life draining out of him as he saw Moody's wand again, and then the incantation was spoken. Then the light. And then, ultimately and inevitably; death.
"They died, Severus… and all they saw was that green… and then they were swept away like that spider…" Harry continued his mumbling at a much lesser volume, beginning to shiver. Whether it was from the autumn weather or his inner turmoil, he didn't know. Probably both. The only warmth sourced from the hot tears that resumed streaming down his cheeks.
Snape regarded him closely, his lips pressed into a thin line. His expression was deeply troubled, but Harry was too absorbed in his feelings to notice.
"Harry," Snape addressed him again to catch his attention. "You just had Defence, am I right?" He asked, still keeping that same, levelled tone.
Harry simply nodded. He was sincerely hoping Severus was capable of piecing all of the puzzle pieces together on his own. He had absolutely no strength left to retell what had transpired in his lesson.
"What did that blasted man-" Severus cursed under his breath before regaining composure, "What did Moody do?"
"Don't… don't make me say it," Harry pleaded, forcing to maintain eye contact with the man. Severus was very eager to make Harry voice all of his problems and reinforce communication between them. It helped them a lot to overcome their differences at the beginning of their rocky familial relationship. But right now, Harry was simply incapable of following their standard problem-solving procedure.
He heard Snape swear again, loudly this time. He was indeed able to connect the dots himself. It brought a spark of warmth to his ice-chilled insides; the man was getting angry for Harry's sake.
"I swear Dumbledore will have some explaining to do; I'll not let the senile man rest at least until New Year-" Severus cut his temper rant off abruptly and forced himself to remain calm, his focus on Harry's trembling frame.
"Can I touch you?" He asked, hands already twitching at his sides as if yearning to pull Harry close. He still demanded verbal consent as Harry previously inched away from him. Nothing escaped that man's attention.
Harry's mouth turned up into the tiniest smile, and then he nodded vehemently. The moment when he did not want to be touched passed, and now his exhausted and drained body craved nothing more than to be comforted by Severus.
Severus wasted no time and gathered Harry in his arms, one hand coming to pat Harry's hair while the other encircled his back protectively.
Harry hugged him back in return, latching onto the warmth the man was radiating.
"You're freezing," Snape remarked almost immediately like he was reading Harry's thoughts. "You're also missing a shoe and your tie," he continued.
Harry frowned at that, but as on cue, his left foot felt significantly colder.
"And you're not in class," Harry muttered against Severus's robes, trying to fault-find the man as well. His clothes smelled like chalk, old parchment, and stale dungeon air. It was home.
"You are not either," Severus retorted, squeezing Harry tighter.
"Would you have preferred me to get a panic attack in Moody's class?"
"I said no such thing. In fact, I would have preferred you not have one at all," Snape chastised him. "Do you want a Calming Draught?"
Harry shook his head. He doubted he could feel even more at ease than he already was in Snape's embrace. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry," he quickly apologized.
"Whatever for are you apologizing? If it's for your entirely understandable reaction after being exposed to highly illegal spells—"
"That's not it," Harry interrupted him hastily and pulled back slightly to look up at Severus. "I interrupted your lesson."
He saw the realization creep into Snape's face.
"I know you were angry, I know I shouldn't have done that, and it's imperative we keep this a secret, but I— I was too out of it. I'm truly sorry. I completely forgot that you might be teaching," Harry confessed, blush coloring his cheeks.
"Stop it," Severus halted Harry's rambling. "I was exasperated by your sudden visit because I did not understand at first. But when I saw the look on your face, it was obvious something dire must have happened. Something so dire that blowing our cover was a secondary problem to the one you were having. And I was right."
Snape's hands retreated slightly and tenderly cupped Harry's cheeks. The man's fingers swiped away the leftover tears.
"I'm so glad you interrupted my lesson, Harry," Severus confessed. "I just wish you would have used a different excuse, not one where you impliedly mistook my classroom for a restroom, but I suppose I should be grateful you came up with something at all."
The last sentence was laced with well-known sarcastic humour. Harry mustered a weak laugh to appease his guardian.
"Yeah... maybe we should prepare a list of potential excuses for me to say when I come barging into your classroom unannounced again," Harry suggested half-jokingly. Snape scoffed.
"I'm not sure I will be able to tend to you every time," he admitted. "Right now, the first-years were left with Filch, whom I practically shoved inside the classroom as I chased after you."
"Sorry," Harry cringed inwardly. Snape scowled at him.
"I already said I'll hear none of that. I told you this so you'd laugh, not apologize again," he sighed, scanning Harry's face closely.
Harry attempted a smile that turned into a grimace. It only triggered another heavy sigh from Severus. He briefly closed his eyes before he spoke.
"Your mother only felt love in her last moments."
The change of topic was so unexpected Harry did not react to the statement for a few long seconds. When he did, his lips parted in surprise.
"Don't focus on what she saw, because she only had one goal in her mind; to protect you. And now that you are here…" Severus trailed off, hesitating. Harry saw his Adam's apple jump up when the man swallowed. "Now that you are my responsibility to protect and care for, I can tell you with utmost confidence that dying for you was something she would've never, ever regretted. I know I wouldn't."
The last words were a mere whisper. If Harry wasn't straining his ears, he would not have heard them. But he did hear. And his cheeks grew moist again.
This time, crying did help. Harry leaned close to the man, his face buried in Severus's robes, his body engulfed by Severus's heat. Harry only saw black and felt love. Love so enormous it overpowered anything else, erasing all leftover trace of that sickening green, of his mother's screams, of that abhorrent Defence class. It was love that soothed and healed, one that put Harry's heart back in place and closed the gaping wound in his chest.
It was the love of a parent, bottomless and unconditional.
"Now, let's get inside before you catch a cold," Severus ordered after they remained in their hug for a while. "I have picked up your lost pieces of clothing on my way here," he remarked and pulled Harry's lost shoe and tie out of nowhere, handing the items to him.
"And to give you a heads up, you'll receive a week worth of detention for this stunt, served with me of course, and thirty points from Gryffindor."
It was Harry's turn to sigh heavily.
"So you're just trying to make Slytherin win the House Cup, and you're providing an excuse to have dinner with me seven nights in a row?" he asked, putting on his missing left shoe.
"My, my, Potter, slow down. One could assume you're getting too smart for your own good," Snape teased him and then started heading towards the castle again.
"Unless that someone is you, I believe I'll be fine, Professor," Harry chuckled, snapping back a cheeky response.
"Rest assured, we have not yet reached such despairing times."
Harry shook his head in disbelief, a persistent smile continuing to tug on the corners of his mouth. He finished tying his shoelaces and hurried after Severus, who purposefully slowed down his long steps, allowing Harry to catch up.
"I think the black robes suit you," Harry remarked suddenly. When Snape's expression turned to utter incredulity, he burst out laughing.
From that day on, the colour black evoked love in Harry. And the colour green was… just that. Green.
Hope you liked it! :)