Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 20th 2010

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
"A few days more" is the sequel to "Twenty-one days" – read and review this first or you wouldn't understand all that happens in this story.
The fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindor have survived their imprisonment in the potions classroom situated in the dungeons. How will they go on in all-day life after their survival? How will they manage to reintegrate into the castle's routine and their classes? How will they be able to go back to life at all? Watch how those who survived fight for their lives and for their peace.

Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …
But Hereweald Hrothgar does …

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 A few days more

Well, McLaggen cursing under his breath told him about the boy having gotten some of the goo from the cauldron at his clothes, most likely his white shirt – that was a Gladrag shirt, just by the way.
It was McLaggen's next comment, that had Severus concentrating more on the comments than on his essays.
"That bloody idiot better be very careful!" The fifth year Gryffindor hissed to himself. "Barely a Snape and already he's a git ... let's see if he's as tough as his daddy is ... maybe let's see if he's as good at potions as his daddy is ... that little traitor snake will pay ..."
Yes, he would have a very close eye on McLaggen – and on his son, for that matter. It was a clear threat McLaggen had murmured to himself, and he knew that the boy was capable of going through with his threat.
Waving his hand at the boy and muttering a spell he set an alarm on the fifth year student, an alarm that would alert him if he either came closer than a few yards towards his son, or if he came close to any of his son's belongings – or the other Wolvenhowls.

A few days more
Chapter twenty
Fighting back your tears

It was Friday, and he wasn't in the best mood – knowing that the children had DADA with Moody who had, apparently, no brain in his head and had – at least during the lesson last week – had the children doing magic, and then history with Creighton who had last time he'd had Harry in his class, kept the boy standing in a corner with his hands behind his neck – for nearly the entire lesson. The boy's stiff back and shoulders had been troubling him for days after that, and Harry had been dizzy for nearly the entire weekend.

Not to mention that another article about Harry and the other children had been published, this time concerning the 'dangerous' animal they were housing, and seeing that Skeeter had mentioned his son's puzzle on the floor in their private quarters – and the mental illness if the child destroyed a picture into thousands of pieces as well as his, Snape's, cruelly, as he had forced said poor and ill child to undo the damage by his hands and without magic – well, he didn't know how the woman had gotten that information about Harry's puzzle on the floor into her hands, but somehow she had, and he knew that none of them had sold any information to her.

He could only guess of course, but he guessed bugs the woman used, and he had already cast one or another of his spying spells at the corners of the rooms – but neither bugs nor spells or other spying equipment had shown themselves.

Diagon too had been strange the day before, running through their quarters and if the term 'to go up the wall' had ever applied to an animal, then it would have fit theirs yesterday evening. He had even cast a diagnostic, fearing that Diagon might be hurt somehow, and in pain, but the desert wolf had been perfectly fine – physically, but mentally the predator had acted as if on the hunt with his prey out of reach – he had no better words to describe Diagon's behaviour who had been furious even once in a while, wary at other times.

And this morning the mutt had demanded to see Harry again, accompanied by the wolf.

He had been furious then! After what had happened last time these two had gotten hold of his son, he had been absolutely furious upon leaving Albus' office.

At least it was weekend after today, and that was the only glimmer of hope he right now had.

Well, he had demanded to pick the children up after DADA, just to make sure that they were alright after Moody's class and so that he could decide whom to release into Creighton's class or whom he would keep at home – and he would see them at lunch after history to make sure that they were alright. He hoped that they would be by then.

"Dad?" Harry asked, softly and he frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns you, boy." He growled back, not in the mood for any conversation at all and surely not up to discuss his emotional condition. "Eat your breakfast."

He didn't notice the startled look in his son's green eyes which looked at him for a moment nor did he notice the other children frowning at him or the table getting strangely silent.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He watched them coming inside his classroom.

His classroom!

Who would have thought that he would have his very own classroom here at Hogwarts one day, his own classroom to torture children in. Of course, he knew that he had to be careful, that he had to start slowly, but well, that did make it just the sweeter, didn't it?

And especially Potter.

How he hated that boy! How very much he hated that boy!

If only he could get his hands on him and get him away from Hogwarts, he would skin the brat alive and then he would cut small pieces off his body, one chunk of flesh after another one, slowly, very slowly – and every part of skin and flesh he would send to Snape, the traitor, whom he hated just as much.

He wasn't sure actually whom he hated more, Snape or Potter.

But he knew that he wouldn't stand a chance to get to Snape in person – he however could get to his son, and through his son, he could get to Snape one way or another.

Not to mention the trouble he'd had with Pomfrey this morning, this bloody and fucking woman telling him how to do his lessons, telling him – him, the teacher – that he wasn't to use magic in his class? A defense against the dark art class and he wasn't to use magic! That was laughable!

But well, he didn't need magic, he had other means.

He'd had a very nice conversation with Creighton, the idiot, just the other day, and the man was strangely creative – and hated Potter just as much as did he, as it seemed – whatever reason for Creighton did hate that brat – but well, who cared? He now knew how he would get to Potter even without magic and even without harming one hair on his body – for now.

Smirking he noticed their silence this morning and their careful movements, especially Potter's, the boy actually looking down at the floor the entire time, without noticing anything around him.

Waving his wand he cast a loud bang through the classroom the moment they all were inside and the door closed, and just like he thought – they were startled out of their wits.

"This is the defense class, ladies and gentlemen." He growled. "Not a kindergarten class nor a drawing class. You can sleep at night but during my lesson you will be alert. Constant vigilance, ladies and gentlemen! Well, seeing that this is defense, we will see how tough you are. Snape, get your sorry behind over here and take this piece of chalk. Now put it on the board and hold it there until I say otherwise. If there is more than this dot of chalk at the board then, you'll stand in the corner for the remainder of the lesson."

He watched the boy obeying, like a good little dog, getting up and coming to the front, taking the chalk and putting it at the board. What a pity, this boy, no bone in his body, but well, he would find reasons to punish even an obedient student, he would get his satisfaction out of this job – and in the meantime he had the others.

"Nott!" He called over the next brat and Nott Junior got off his chair, stood there behind his desk. "Your daddy has gained himself a lifelong stay in Azkaban – nice feeling, isn't it?" Watching the boy over he noticed the similarities between the teen and his father.

Thaddeus Nott and Walden McNair, these two had always been in the inner circle, amongst others of course, like Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, just for example, and Bellatrix Lestrange, Avery, Crabbe and Goyle, as stupid as they were. And they had always looked down on him, they had always sneered down on him, had treated him like a dirty and stinking piece of shit even though he had been the only and most loyal follower of the Dark Lord, even though they all had abandoned their Master, and even though he alone had remained faithfully to his Master!

But now was his time to pay back!

Well, McNair, Avery and Lestrange, he couldn't get to them easily, they had no children here, and neither did some others – but Crabbe and Goyle had, as well as Malfoy and Nott – and now Snape. He had been so cheerful when he had heard about Snape having adopted Potter!

None of the others had he hated as much as Snape, because the others had only abandoned his Master upon the Dark Lord's downfall caused by Potter, but Snape – Snape had always betrayed his Master, had spied on him, had ... rage soaring through his body, fury so blinding, it physically hurt his eyes and he waved his wand for another bang, knowing how much he would startle Potter, knowing that the boy wouldn't be able to hold the chalk steady, and he smirked even before he turned to see the long line of white chalk on the black board.

"Unable to control yourself, Snape?" He smirked, nearly chuckled. "Well, well, well, and here I thought you were tougher. The Dark Lord will have easy prey with you, boy. Into the corner now, and your hands behind your neck, that was the deal." He chuckled, watching the boy walking over to the corner and placing himself with his nose against the wall. "That's right, boy, and you better do not dare getting your arms down or you will be punished." He added with another wave of his wand, at the brat this time, Pomfrey being damned.

And well, Nott and McNair had come just behind Snape – followed closely by Malfoy.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I'm sorry, Professor Moody, but I'm sure that Professor Snape mentioned in the staff room – the children are not to be put in a corner." Ron said, as politely as possible, getting off his chair. He knew that Alastor Moody was a friend of his parents, and he knew that the ex-auror was very demanding concerning politeness – at least when it came to children – that he was one of the old school. But at the same time, he knew that Harry shouldn't stand there, not for nearly ninety minutes. Last week when Creighton had put Harry into the corner, then he had been so tired and weak and sore for days, and he knew that Snape had been really, really worried.

Moody turned towards him, sharply, watching him with his good eye as well as with his bad eye before this one then turned in his head to look at Harry.

"Weasley, isn't it?" Moody asked, even though he was sure that Moody knew exactly that he was a Weasley.

"Yes, sir." He answered. He wanted something of the teacher, namely that he let Harry go, and so he had to show his respect – if he had learned nothing with Snape as his new head of house, then it was, at least, that. Most professors were ready to give in on one thing or another if they got the students' respect.

"You're the prefect of this class, aren't you?" Moody then asked and he straightened.

"Yes, sir." He said, proudly. As it seemed, they were getting somewhere.

"Well, Weasley, you either can accompany your friend over there in this corner, or you accept that I have made a decision – and I do not go back on my decisions. I do not care about what Snape wants, Weasley, Snape is a Death Eater, and a Death Eater has no right to demand anything at all. I do handle my students the way I see fit and if Snape coddles you to make you weak so that the Dark Lord will have easy prey with you, then I will not coddle you, because the Dark Lord won't coddle you either. Get used to it, boy.

And now, Nott, take Snape's place at the board." Moody then hissed and he knew, the ex-auror would take one by one of them, just because he could, just because they were in Snape's house. "Let's see if your Death Eater father has taught you more strength than Snape has his son."

He had been against Slytherin for a long time, he had judged them on their parents for a long time, forgetting that Death Eaters were found in other houses too, like Gryffindor, just for example – but he had learned over the past few weeks that the children in Slytherin were children just like them, that they were not to be held account for the mistakes their parents had done. Seeing Moody now acting so vile – he didn't really understand the man's motivation.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The moment Moody had put Theo at Harry's place in front of the board, with the remark about Death Eater parents teaching their children strength – he had known that he would end up there too – and he had been right, of course.

Moody had let loose other bangs, and of course Theo had been startled, Theo was always startled, as was Harry, and most of them knew why. It was unfair to take the students that were beaten up at home, that were scared in the first place, and to startle them like that. Well, Theo, too, had ended up in a corner, in a different corner than Harry, and while Moody had placed him, Draco, at the front and before the blackboard, he had wondered about where Moody would place the others.

He had lasted through some of the bangs, willing himself to not being startled, to keep at least the others from the same fate, even if his arm that had held the chalk to the blackboard had gotten more and more tired and had started hurting with time, but he had lasted through a few of Moody's bangs – until he had started to cast – well, kind of a bolt at him, for the lack of a better word. He knew that surely it hadn't been a real bolt, that was impossible, but he knew that he had felt the heat, that he had felt the pain from the heat when the bolt had passed him and he still thought he could smell singed hair.

Well, he hadn't been able to keep the chalk still then, and he had slipped the chalk across the board, leaving behind a white line on the black board. Vincent had been the one taking over then, and now he was standing in a corner just like Harry and Theo, hating Moody more and more.

More than once his arms had lowered themselves because they had gotten heavier and heavier – and each time that had happened, the pain in his shoulder blades had nearly brought him to his knees. He didn't know what exact spell it had been Moody had used on them, but whenever he lowered his arms then that pain was there, robbing him off his breath, and he wasn't so sure about Moody anymore.

He seemed as if hating the Death Eaters in one moment – but he was using Death Eater methods for punishment the other moment, he didn't understand it. He knew that his father had done the same, and more than once, having him in a corner and placing a spell on him so that he couldn't lower his arms without blinding pain that was robbing his breath, that nearly made him screaming, that nearly had his knees giving way. And he knew that a lot of the other Death Eaters did the same. He knew that the Death Eaters did the same with some of their victims even, and they didn't care about them being children or adults, they had them standing there for hours and hours and hours, until they dropped with weakness and then they stood there and watched them writhing and screaming on the floor with the pain their shoulder blades caused because they didn't have their hands behind their heads anymore, because they were unable to place their hands behind their heads anymore because of the pain. His father had told him about it, smiling, as if he told a children's story.

So, what was Moody doing? Or rather – why was he doing what he was doing?

Did he do it because they were Death Eater children? To show them what he thought of their fathers? To show them what it meant to be the child of a Death Eater? But if so, why then with Harry, too? It was clear after all, the Daily Prophet had printed it, after the commemoration – Severus had adopted Harry, yes, but they also had printed that Severus was no Death Eater, and never had been, that he was a spy for Professor Dumbledore and the light. So, why did Moody do that with Harry too? He didn't understand it.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Merlin, what an idiot had he been!

What an absolute and what a bloody idiot had he been – now that he had calmed down a bit, now that he'd had time to think, now he knew that he had handled Harry the way he had during the past three years, like a git, not like he ought to.

How could he have told the boy to shut up, just upon the question about how he felt – and nothing else had it been. Of course he had used other words, he had told Harry that it was none of his concern – what was correct – but one, it was the same anyway, just in other words – and second, he could have used a different tone with the boy.

Not to mention that he could have reassured Harry that he was not angry with him, just in a bad mood, and if he thought about it now, then he couldn't help wondering how miserable the teen surely had to feel – and the others.

They were bound together very closely by now, and sometimes they felt like one union – if one of them was sad, then they all were sad, and if one of them was happy, then they all were happy. It was strange, but they belonged together, they felt together, they thought together, and they breathed together. They were like one.

Of course, he knew that they would grow apart with time, to some point at least where they would be able to go different ways and to start their own families – but until then, they were like one.

He didn't worry about that either, because he knew that this was what had to be, they had been through hell together and of course that had forged them into one unit, that had been what had kept them alive after all and so no, he didn't worry about that – it was just that – he worried about how he had handled Harry's question this morning – he had hurt the boy, and so he had hurt the entire group, he knew, and now, during DADA, a subject that wasn't their most favourite subject to begin with, their misery surely had to grow – and only Merlin knew to what heights it would grow and how Moody would react to that. Sighing he leaned back in his chair, throwing the quill at the tabletop and folding his arms in front of his chest, watching the seventh year students brewing the wolfsbane potion.

There weren't much. There was Diggory from Hufflepuff, Clearwater and Davis from Ravenclaw, Percival Weasley from Gryffindor and Bole and Derrick from Slytherin, a small group of NEWT students that were able to work on their own, a small group he didn't even have to split in two groups with two houses each like it was standard at Hogwarts.
For a moment he had considered just that, when he had overtaken his NEWT classes from Hereweald, remembering the small groups he had taught during these twenty-one days down in the dungeons classroom and how peaceful these lessons had been, but then he had dismissed the thought. It would be impossible to split every potions class into two classes, the workload would not fit into the timetable, as nice as that would actually be.

But well, if they'd do that, then he wouldn't have as much time for his new house now, not to mention that – in one point Hereweald was correct, even if he would never ever admit it to anyone – he had to regard his own health too, he was only human after all, and he, too, had been through these twenty-one days, or he would suffer a breakdown what surely was not in any interest of the children entrusted to him. Nor would it fit his reputation, of course.

Taking a deep breath he forced his thoughts back to the class and getting off the chair behind his desk he started walking through the classroom, knowing that the students had reached a step in their brewing that could be dangerous and surely he didn't want another disaster like the one nearly six weeks ago.

"Lycanthropy is no illness you can heal." He lectured, while looking into cauldrons and sniffing at the brewage from one or another student. "You will be able to keep a werewolf – if said werewolf is ready for cooperation – sane and therefore in control of his actions during the transformation on the full moon, but you cannot heal it. It is like with a cold. You cannot actually cure a cold, but you can stop the symptoms with a simple potion. You can find herbs in a cold potion to curb coughing, like anise, lavender and sage, herbs to curb sneezing, like hay flowers, elder and thyme if it is due to allergy or you can find pine leaves, ivy root and eucalyptus there to relieve the upper respiratory system, the bark of an ash tree, or the roots of a willow for fever and pain, as well as for strengthening the immune system."

He would pick them up after DADA and then he would talk to Harry, he would make sure that they were alright before history or he would cancel their lesson with Creighton – so there was nothing to worry about.

"Likewise the wolfsbane potion must have components to deaden the psychological symptoms of lycanthropy while at the same time it needs components to calm and to strengthen the person concerned, with – of course – wolfsbane as a catalyst."

Well, there would have been nothing to worry about, if Weasley hadn't decided to add the witch hazel before the bloodroot, despite his explicit warning earlier, Percival Weasley, mind you, a NEWT student, not Ronald Weasley who was halfway through his potions education only.

Weasley however did add the witch hazel before the bloodroot that would have calmed the concoction and prevented the cauldron from exploding – as he had explained at the beginning of the class – and so Weasley's cauldron – in the end – did explode.

Well, while the potion was difficult to brew, it was not a dangerous one if it exploded, even though it was unpleasant on the skin at some steps and simply messy on others. Of course, Weasley would have exploded his cauldron at a step that would not only be messy upon explosion but unpleasant on the skin, too, and of course the idiot boy was standing close enough to get covered with the potion nearly from head to toe.

It wasn't that the wolfsbane potion was required for a standard NEWT potions class – actually, rarely any school taught that particular potion in their NEWTs, but not only was he a potions teacher at Hogwarts, one of the best wizarding academic institutes worldwide, but also was he a Potions Master – and again, one of the most esteemed Potions Masters worldwide, one of the few being able to actually brew the wolfsbane potion so that it worked best – having invented that damn thing – and so he expected higher standards from his NEWT students of course, seeing that he only allowed the best in his NEWT classes to begin with, outstanding students. A student that managed to study NEWT Potions in his class until the end of year seven, would normally be taken by the most prestigious potions reserch laboratories worldwide.

"Get off these clothes, you idiot boy!" He growled, angrily, knowing that he wouldn't manage being at the DADA classroom in time to get his children from Moody's hands, not if he had to make sure that Weasley was alright – and seeing that he was their teacher, the responsibility for the boy's health lay with him, of course.

And there it was again – his children!

Well, there was no fuss from Weasley's side, the boy immediately getting rid of his cloak and then of his shirt and the undershirt he was wearing, but he hadn't expected any fuss either, seeing that the potion at this step was not just messy but actually uncomfortable on skin contact and the boy already started scratching his arms.

"Get your feet moving to the bathroom to take a shower, Weasley, now!" He ordered while waving his wand and discarding the boy's clothes that started to smoke on the floor, holes appearing where they had come in contact with the potion, getting larger and larger, the fabric being eaten away by the substance.

Well, exactly that was the reason as to why any potions laboratory was bound to have a bathroom and a shower attached to it, because while the potions brewed in lower grades were relatively harmless, a NEWT potion could be right-out dangerous in case of skin contact.

Of course, what happened with the clothes would not happen with skin this time, the substance only destroying cloth or paper for example but not skin or hair. On skin, if the contact was prolonged, it would only come to a nasty rash that could get infected if uncared for. And on hair nothing else would happen than the hair losing its colour and becoming white.

But he had to make sure that Weasley was cared for, that he took a shower and then got a salve – and actually used it – and that kept him from picking the children up from DADA in time.

Well, he would have to deal with it, he would have to wait for lunch until he saw them, until he could talk with Harry about his unthought comment this morning, and until then he could only hope that they were alright despite the lesson with Moody – and then Creighton.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He was dead, he knew that he was dead, and he had ended up in hell, like aunt Petunia had always told him he would, he had ended up in hell and here he would rot for the rest of his existence, however long that existence would be, but he feared that it would be forever, because there was nothing else after death, was there?

Flashback

"I cannot answer you that question." Severus said. "No one does know what lies behind death, and I personally think that it is a good thing that we do not know. We are able to await death because we do not know what lays behind. If we knew, then perhaps we would be startled at the thought, or we would be scared, or we would be so excited that we would kill ourselves before our time to make the experience sooner than necessary."

End flashback

Merlin, he knew now what laid behind death, namely hell, blinding, painful hell, a hell that was so similar to the one of the Dursleys, he nearly was sure that he was back there – he would have been sure if there weren't the others – and if they weren't on their way to the history classroom, surely not a place he wished to be – neither in real life nor in hell.

Draco's careful movements beside him, and Theo's pale and strained face told him enough about them having ended up in the same hell like he had, together with Vincent and Gregory. The others, Moody hadn't had enough time to punish the others too – whatever for to begin with, he didn't know – because Draco already had kept the chalk steady for a long time and Vincent and Gregory had been really good in this.

But well, neither Vince nor Greg was jumpy in the first place, and he wasn't sure if Gregory hadn't even fallen asleep while holding the chalk to the board – kind of at least. So, the lesson had been over before Blaise had been put into a corner.

Corners – he didn't know why he had worried about not enough corners being in the DADA classroom, because he should have thought about – living in the magic world maybe? Of course, there would be enough corners, even in a circular classroom there would have been enough corners if Moody so needed.

"Nice of you to finally grace me with your presence." Creighton's voice got him out of his thoughts, and he would have straightened if only he were able to move his shoulders or his arms, his back or whatever. He didn't even know what really hurt or what only hurt because his shoulders sent rays of pain to his back and his neck and his arms. Merlin, even his lungs seemed to hurt! "Lesson has started already five minutes ago! You better hurry up or you will serve detention for the rest of the day – standing in a corner!"

Well, if that didn't have them hurrying to their tables, then nothing would have made them and already a minute later they were sitting and the classroom was silent.
Bloody hell, was this a new fashion?

Never before had the teachers put the students into a corner and now they had two of them. Creighton had started with it, and Moody had, apparently, taken over. What he didn't understand was – Moody was a member of the light, wasn't he? Moody was crazy – that at least was what Ron, Fred and George said – but he was one of the good guys, so why didn't he act the good guy? Why did he torture them all? Compared to Moody, even Severus had been kind and kitten-like back then, in his first three years here at Hogwarts. Severus would have never really harmed them and even while he had been with the man in detention to scrub cauldrons more than he'd been in detention with any other teacher, Severus had never kept him until he couldn't move with muscle soreness. It hadn't been fun, but it hadn't been painful either.

So, why did Moody tread them like that? Not even Creighton had cast that spell on him last week, whatever spell it was Moody had used, he didn't know, but Draco had told him that it was Death Eater punishment, and that Moody had cast a spell on them so that they couldn't lower their arms without experiencing that excruciating pain that had made his eyes water with tears, that nearly had him screaming – even if Moody had cancelled the spell upon them leaving the history classroom.

"You think you are above having to pay attention, Potter, don't you?" Again, it was Creighton's voice that got him out of his thoughts, and he forced himself to come back to the here and now. Merlin, how could he concentrate while the muscles in his shoulders hurt so much, still? He was barely able to move, still! Even the movement breathing caused, hurt!

"Sorry, sir." He forced himself to say and he sighed at how damn tired his voice sounded.

"A half-hearted sorry won't help you with You-Know-Who, Potter." Creighton hissed at him. "I have expected more from the savior of the wizarding world, from the chosen one. Try again."

"I am sorry, sir?" Harry asked, not really knowing what his manners would have to do with Voldemort. He understood that a teacher expected manners, and that his sorry might not have been the most respectful one, but if he stood in front of Voldemort, then not even the best of manners would possible help him.

"Is that really the best you can do, boy?" Creighton sneered at him, and he frowned.

"I sincerely apologize for not paying attention in your class, Professor Creighton." He forced himself to say, not really sure what exactly Creighton expected.

"How pathetic! How pitiable, Potter." Creighton sneered and he couldn't help the anger he felt rising in his chest.

"It's Snape!" He growled back. "Sir!"

"Ah, I see the chosen one is ready for a challenge." Creighton smiled, but he knew that it was not a kind smile, it was an evil smile, a smirk even more evil than the one Severus had shown once in a while. "Well then, Mr. Snape – detention after this class, we will see who of us will be the winner of your challenge."

Alright – that much for staying out of harms ways, and he knew that this time Severus wouldn't be there to help him, because this time he had caused the trouble himself. And yet, he refused to look away, withstood Creighton's cold eyes until the man went to the front of the classroom and continued with his lesson – about magic in the medieval times – wondering why Creighton didn't have him standing in the corner this time. It wasn't that he wished to stand there, surely not, anything than that, he had been standing in a corner long enough today and still his shoulder blades burned like hell – he just feared what Creighton might have in mind instead of that – because it had to be something evil if the man abandoned the option of having him punished right now.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Well, Potter!" Creighton spat, so hatefully, he had to clench his teeth for a moment to keep himself from cringing.

He had been wrong, badly wrong. Because he had thought that Creighton acted like Severus had in the past, he had thought that all the hissing and growling Creighton had done – it all fit Severus' behaviour during the past three years and Merlin, the man had overtaken the Potions Master's place in hating him – but he had been wrong, very wrong.

Because never before had Severus spat his name with so much hate and ferocity in his voice, and never before had Severus been standing in front of him, trembling with rage and fury – he was doomed.

"Well, Potter." The man repeated after taking a deep breath. "The corner, you know the procedure, boy!"

Slowly and feeling numb he obeyed, walking over to the corner like in a dream – because he knew what would follow.

Because he knew, the next hour would be hell, the next hour ...

A moment later he could feel the same spell moody had used, he could feel it, because even the movement breathing caused, caused some pain in his shoulderblades.

How very stupid of him! Of course, Creighton would use that spell! Of course, Creighton used magic to keep him in line, he should have known that, they were living in the wizarding world after all. He seemed to forget that too often lately, today – first with Moody, and now with Creighton.

"Very well – Potter!" Creighton hissed again. "Let's see how you can handle my answer to your challenge – shall we, Potter?"

Well, if Creighton thought that he would give an answer to that, then he was wrong. He would rather rot in hell and bear the worst beating for the remainder of his life than really giving an answer to Creighton's question.

Alright, he knew that in a few minutes he would definitely think differently, that in a few minutes his already tired arms would lower, and that his shoulders and shoulderblades which already hurt, would hurt even more, that soon, too soon, he would rather give an answer than remain standing there – but that was what he thought now, and so he didn't answer. But there wasn't any need to give an answer anyway, because he knew that Creighton would have him standing there for at least an hour anyway, never mind what, never mind if he gave him an answer or not.

"Is it, Potter?" The man hissed, and a moment later Creighton hissed a "crucio", and then blinding pain was soaring through him, as if a thousand hot knives were cutting him open from the inside, and for a moment he wasn't able to breathe, wasn't able to even think while his knees gave way and he landed on the floor, gasping for air and fighting with his tears.

Merlin, he didn't know what kind of spell Creighton had actually used, but compared to this one the other spell seemed nearly harmless. Nearly, because he could feel the blinding pain in his shoulderblades adding to the other one when he had lowered them the moment he had sunk to the floor, and still he fought for his breath, fought to not suffocate in the pain on the floor.

"Get up, Potter, and back against the wall!" But as much as he tried to get up, and to get his arms behind his head again, the blinding pain kept him from moving them at all, and he closed his eyes, concentrating, forcing himself to take calm breaths. It wasn't the first pain he received, after all, and he knew how best to handle it – but he couldn't, not this time.

"Surprisingly painful, this spell, isn't it?" Creighton asked, but this time he didn't seem to expect an answer, because he continued with his explanation right away. "Well, I'll tell you the rules now, boy. The absolute minimum is ten times I use that spell, I won't start with less than that – but after that it depends on you. I want a decent apology, on your knees, I expect you to kiss my feet when you apologize, and I expect you to swear any repayment on your side for your abysmal behaviour."

A moment later there was the next bout of agony souring through his body, this time nearly eliciting a scream while he was writhing on the floor, blinding pain that nearly had him choking for a moment.

"On your feet, boy!" Creighton hissed, kicking at him angrily. "How pathetic, unable to stay on your feet even! Well, boy – I haven't even finished my rules. Because if you think that after an apology everything would be daisies and sunshine, then you're very wrong, Potter. Because after the apology you will receive a nice prolonged cruciatus – as a reminder to never ever again being disrespectful towards me!"

And the third time that spell hit him.

And this time he wasn't able to keep himself from giving away a sound of pain at all, even though it wasn't a scream yet – it had been a sound of pain and he hated himself for it while he writhed on the floor, whimpering with the pain, shaking.

He couldn't gather his thoughts, any common sense, anything at all, because he had all of his hands full with fighting the pain, and breathing had become incredibly difficult while through all the haze that swirled through his mind, he knew that not only it was because of the blinding pain, but because of the tears he was fighting, too.

He wasn't stupid, and so he knew that he would cry – at one point or another, that he would beg Creighton on hands and knees to stop, that he would do anything Creighton demanded, just to have him stopping, that he would lick the man's ass if necessary, if that would make him stopping, because he knew that at one point or another enduring the pain would become impossible, that at one point the pain would become more than he would be able to handle.

And he knew it because he had cried in front of uncle Vernon, each time, he had begged his uncle on hands and knees, he had done – that – just to make him stop beating him, anything, just to make him stop. And he knew that it would be the same with Creighton. But he would fight it as long as possible, he would do anything to keep his dignity as long as possible, he would ...

The next time he heard that "crucio", it had him giving away a scream and a moment later he could taste blood in his mouth and knew that he had bit his tongue. He didn't even feel it with all the pain he was in, he couldn't even think of anything. Any conscious thought was cut off, like that spell that was cutting throught his body with hot knives.

He didn't know when the spell had ended this time, but that wasn't important anymore as long as he was able to breath again, the remaining pain in his shoulderblades being a babypain in comparision to that other horrible spell. His entire body was shaking, and he was still whimpering on the floor, but he didn't realize it – just to go back to screaming upon the next blinding pain.

"Where's your protector now, Potter?" He heard Creighton's laughing voice when he was panting on the floor again, trying to catch his breath, trying to keep the tears at bay, trying to breathe one way or another. He didn't even try anymore to still the trembling of his body, knowing that it would be energy spent in vain. "Did he abandon you? You have failed him, you have failed Snape you have failed your daddy – he won't come this time!"

He knew that!

Bastard, bloody bastard!

He knew that, he knew it and Creighton rubbed it into him like salt into his injuries, but even that only hurt numbly because the physical pain was so much worse than the emotional pain right now. He had brought it over himself with his remark about his name and he knew that Severus wouldn't stand for that, and so his father wouldn't come now – because he was already angry at him.

Because Severus was already angry with him, because he'd been stupid this morning, Severus was angry with him, and it was his fault, and Creighton rubbed it in him ... how he hated that man!

Fighting with his weak and trembling knees he somehow found the strength to get to his feet, slowly and definitely unsteadily, swaying, and he knew that it wouldn't take much now until he broke, he knew that he wouldn't have the strength to withstand much more than that, he knew that ...

He didn't even care anymore about the piercing scream he gave away upon the next time that spell hit him, upon the next time he fell to the floor, writhing, it had become unimportant if he screamed or if he kept silence as long as he wouldn't start begging. That would come later, he knew, but for now – as long as he wouldn't start begging, as long as he wouldn't start ... as long as he wouldn't ...

But well, he had known that it would come to that, hadn't he?

Since the first time he had set his foot into the history of magic class this year – and had seen the new professor instead of Professor Binns, he had known that he would get into trouble with the man. Creighton had always looked at him as if he were a particularly vile piece of anything – even worse than Severus had looked at him before the beginning of this school year, and he had known that one day he would be in real trouble with the man. He had just hoped that it wouldn't be so soon – and not like this, anything but this.

He didn't know how often Creighton had used that spell by now, he didn't know if the bastard had reached his minimum of ten times already, he didn't know how many more times he would be able to take without giving in, without sobbing, and crying, and begging, and without doing whatever Creighton asked of him.

The only thing that had still any meaning was to keep himself from begging, was to continue breathing while he could, taking one breath after another before that spell would hit him again, before ...

Only one more time!

He had to take only one more time!

Only the next time!

That was all he could think of, concentrate on, to take that spell one at a time, not thinking of all the times that would follow this one, but only the one that would come next, only one more, and only one more after that, and only one more ...

Laying at the floor, breathing heavily, gasping for one shuddering breath after another, fighting for any kind of control he braced himself for the next inevitable spell used upon him, which he knew would come, which he knew would hurt like hell, just like all the others had done.

Gritting his teeth and steeling himself for the next blinding pain he took one breath after another, waiting, wondering why it took Creighton so long this time when the burning pain didn't come, still breathing in heavy and shuddering gasps.

Tiredly he dared to risk a careful look and tiredly he wondered why the man was just holding his hand outstretched without casting that spell again, and he didn't even notice the hand not holding a wand anymore, nor the man looking startled, too absorbed into his own fight of staying sane one way or another to notice the Potions Master holding Creighton's wrist in a vice-like grip, before Creighton crashed to the floor, holding his own hands to his face.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The moment he entered the great hall his mood still wasn't the best, even though he was about to see his children.

He had released Weasley half an hour after the boy had exploded his cauldron, after he had showered, was lubed with a healing salve and clothed in some of his – Snape's – spare clothes. But half an hour, that had been too late for picking up the children at the DADA classroom and when he had roamed the corridors he hadn't seen any of them.

He had passed the history classroom, but everything had been alright. He had cast a quick but very effective charm, one that didn't do any harm but showed him where the students were – and none had been in any corner. Of course, the charm would not show him the children in person, that would have been against any school rules and breach their privacy, but it had shown him the location of their names and they all had been sitting at their respective desks.

Well, he would –

Coming closer to their table he noticed that Harry was not with them, and he frowned, approaching the table with the children. None of them was eating anything, all of them were looking miserable, even Victor seemed unsure, and Ronald got off the bench the moment he came closer, already facing him as if he had already awaited him.

"Where is Harry?" He immediately demanded, his voice dangerously soft and calm.

"With Creighton." Ronald answered, just as softly, his face paler than it was normally, and he just placed his hand on the boy's shoulder for a moment.

"Thank you, Ronald." He calmly said – even though he didn't really know how he could stay so calm. "After dinner, please lead the house back home, and sit together for tea. Eat, all of you, I will handle the situation." And then he turned and left the great hall with long strides, worrying about what might have happened so that Creighton had kept Harry behind. He didn't trust the man, and somehow he knew that Creighton had surely not kept Harry behind to explain him anything about history.

Well, he didn't even have to enter the history classroom to know that he had been correct – just when he turned left and into the west wing he heard the piercing scream that had his blood running cold, that had him frozen to the spot for a moment, until his body turned into overdrive and he started running.

The scream didn't stop for several seconds, only slowly lessening on intensity and it still echoed in his mind when he threw the door open, the wood of the door banging against the stone wall before it crashed off its hinges.

One look into the classroom and seeing his son crumpled on the floor, trembling like a leaf in the wind was enough for him. He cast the quickest expeliarmus he had ever cast, and in another swift move he was inside the classroom, beside Creighton and caught the man's wrist before turning him and hitting his own fist into the man's face.

"I would not move one single muscle if I were you, Creighton, not even for an inch." Severus' voice came from above him, hard, cold and merciless, and Harry couldn't help shivering, while at the same time he wondered what Severus was doing here. Creighton had told him that there wouldn't anyone be coming to rescue him, and he had known it anyway, because he had brought this punishment upon himself, and because he had angered Severus just this morning – but maybe it wasn't really Severus and he just imagined it.

But still the next wave of pain didn't come, and he concentrated back on his own world that was a haze of pain and fear and desperation, concentrated on only taking one breath after another while he laid his forehead against the stony floor for a moment, glad for the relief the cold stone brought to his hot face. It wouldn't do him any good if he paid attention to an illusion, the reality was here and he had to fight in this reality.

Watching Harry out of the corner of his eyes, the boy leaning his head against the floor without paying any attention to him, he knew that his son was too far gone into a world of his own, a world in which only pain ruled, pain, helplessness, and desperation, fear, agony – and he had to take a deep breath to being able and pull his eyes away.

A moment later the Potions Master was snatching the wand he had summoned, in two halves.

The crack of wood snapping into pieces was heard and another moment later Severus threw the broken pieces away from him with one harsh but fluid movement, the pieces hitting the wall before they fell to the stony floor with a clattering sound, while at the same time he reached out to grab the man's throat. He had him lifted and nailed against the wall in another fluid move, pinning him there.

He had noticed Harry flinching upon each and every of those sounds, the breaking of the wood, the clattering when the pieces hit first the wall and then the floor, the thin body trembling and shivering without daring to move in any way, and his rage only increased to unknown heights upon seeing the boy laying there, still not daring to move at all, despite his, Severus' presence, and considering the fine tracks of perspiration that ran down the boy's face, the clam shirt, he was sure that it was not the cold this time but pain and fear that had Harry trembling and shivering uncontrollably.

"If I ever catch you near my son, just looking at my son or speaking to my son ever again – then be assured, you will not survive it!" He hissed before he flicked his wand and had the man secured against the wall, unable to move, and silenced.

Carefully he approached the boy that lay on the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and slowly he lifted one hand to place it on the soaked and trembling shoulder, the only reaction he caused being a violent flinch mixed up with a scared whimper and he took a deep breath himself.

Numbly, Harry didn't notice Severus kneeling beside him until he felt the pressure of the man's hand on his hurting shoulder and he couldn't help flinching away upon the touch. It took him a moment to realize that it was, indeed, Severus Snape, the Potions Master, his father, who had, indeed, come to rescue him – again, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

Severus didn't look as if he were ready to finish Creighton's work, he looked furious, but concerned at the same time, and he couldn't help feeling relief flooding his body, couldn't help choking for a moment with relief, with the knowledge that it was over, for now at least.

Without removing his hand from Harry's soaked and trembling shoulder the Potions Master pulled one of the vials he always carried in the pockets of his robe, opening the stopper and placing the small glass container at his son's bleeding lips. He didn't know if Creighton had hit Harry in the face, too, or if Harry had simply bit his tongue or his lips, but first things first, he needed the boy to take the potion.

"It's a pain reliever, Harry." He softly said, trying to sound as calm as possible. "I need you to drink this one, Harry. It will take a moment, but you should feel better then."
He summoned another potion while he watched Harry drinking the content obediently, not even shuddering at the taste, not even opening his eyes which he had closed meanwhile. Not daring to move the child itself before the pain reliever had taken hold, he had a hard time keeping himself from seething with rage and fury while he made the child drinking the nerve regeneration potion next.

He knew the kind of pain that had caused this, the spell that had an adult wizard writhing on the floor, and he had never thought that he would see this spell used here at Hogwarts, nor on one of the students.

He watched Harry breathing calmer, slowly but surely, and the shaking eased into a constant but slight trembling – the pain reliever mixed with the nerve regenerator took hold and even though he knew that the pain reliever surely didn't take the pain away completely, from the child calming down he guessed that at least the pain had become somewhat bearable.

"I will take a closer look at you, but first I'll take you home." He said, pulling his cloak off his shoulders and gently placing it over his son's, the boy flinching upon the fabric touching him. "I am sure that you will feel more comfortable there than here." He added while gently pulling the boy up from the floor.

A moment later Severus lifted his son's body into his arms and carried him out of the history classroom and down the corridor. He forced himself to ignore the painful whimpers that escaped Harry upon the jostling, just tried to shift him in his arms so that the boy lay as comfortable as possible, while he called for his house elf even without stopping in his steps.

"I need you to prepare Harry's bed." He said when Zilly arrived with a 'pop', the small house elf needing a moment until realizing that his Master was quickly striding along the corridor and then falling into step with the Potions Master, having to run for being able to. "I also need a bath with warm water and a relaxing potion, clean clothes and my emergency potions kit in Harry's room. After that I want you to get Poppy to our rooms, and to inform the headmaster that he will find Creighton in his classroom, bound and ready for the aurors to pick him up for abusing a student, using the cruciatus on him, and risking a student's life. Please do inform Albus that the student harmed is my son, and that he better won't set Creighton free."

"Of course, Master Snape" Zilly said curtly, with one quick worried glance at the child in his arms, and then disappeared with another soft 'pop', again causing the slight body in his arms to flinch upon the sound, and again he threatened to suffocate in his anger and in his fury, in his worry.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Hush now, child." He softly said while trying to keep Harry still in the bathtub. He knew that the boy wasn't in too much pain anymore, he had meanwhile given his son a double dose of his strongest pain reliever he had, and the nerve regeneration potion he had invented just for the cruciatus spell, but he knew the fear and the shock the boy still had to be in. "I won't harm you, but I need you to remain in that bathtub for some time for then potion to help with the damage the cruiatus had done to your nerves. Why don't you try and relax a bit ... no, Harry, stay laying in the water. I won't do anything else than just sitting here and keeping you from drowning. I know that you are scared, anyone would be, but I won't harm you, I promise, I won't do anything without informing you beforehand about my move."

"'m sorry ..." The boy said, whispered, and not for the first time.

"There is no need to be, Harry." He gently reassured, and not for the first time either. "You have done nothing wrong, and Creighton won't come near you ever again. He is just about to leave this school forever, I have made sure of that."

"'m sorry ..." Was again all the boy whispered, was in fact the only thing Harry had whispered every now and then, since he had brought him home.

"Severus?" Poppy's voice came from the doorway, causing Harry to flinch back violently again, trying to scoot away again, and he gritted his teeth while taking hold of the boy's shoulders to keep him from drowning in his panic.

"It is only Poppy, Harry." He said while gently and carefully increasing the hold he had on the boy's shoulder, and while the boy had not cried so far since he'd brought him home, this new fear seemed too much on his clearly overstrained nerves, and he started crying now.

"Move over, Severus and give me some room." Poppy said, already casting a diagnostic, and he was more than happy to oblige, gently shifted his hands and moved over, and then ran his right hand over the child's hot face.

He leaned over to take hold of the fever reducer and gently he poured the potion into the boy's mouth before he took a cloth from the nightstand and began wiping the blood from Harry's lips away.

"Open your mouth for a moment please, Harry." He softly said, gently nudging the boy's lower yaw. "I need to see where all this blood is coming from, alright?" Well, it took him a few attempts to get his son to open his mouth, and he wasn't sure if it was due to his explanation or due to the nudging, he wasn't even sure if his son actually understood everything he said. But the moment he finally had a clear view of the boy's mouth he could clearly see the bite wound where Harry had bitten his tongue. Luckily it wasn't too deep, and with the healing spell he cast, it would heal quickly. Gently and slowly, he poured another potion into the child's mouth, a calming draught this time. He should have given this one earlier, but honestly, he was not thinking clearly right now.

"Who did this, Severus?" Poppy asked and he needed a moment to concentrate on the woman's question.

"Creighton." He softly said, refusing to startle the boy with another growl while he ran a wet cloth over the hot and damp face. He didn't like the glassy look in Harry's eyes, nor the faraway look either, but he could only hope that for now it was shock only, and that after a night's sleep the boy would feel better.

"I will write a report and send it to child welfare, too." Poppy said while reading the result of the diagnistic spell, and he nodded.

"Very good, that way Creighton won't be able to come near children ever again." He answered, gently lifting his child out of the water and wrapping him into a large towel, again being reminded at that last day down there in the dungeons, when he had taken the child to the shower, and with a heavy sigh, he watched Harry's eyes dropping slowly but surely, the boy was about to fall asleep on him – again.

The thing was – he didn't mind.

"You best massage some ointment mixed with a calming and a nerve regeneration potion into his skin twice a day for several days, Severus." Poppy got up and packed her things away, re-arranged his things on the nightstand by Harry's bed, so that he would be able reaching them easily without releasing his son. "I think it is best if the skin has some time to absorb the potions instead of him ingesting them. That way the process will be slower, but not as strenuous on his weak body."

"Of course, Poppy." He softly said while Harry in his arms fell asleep, exhaustedly. "Thank you."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
resign to surrender

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, of course I have re-installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get a point. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

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

Slytherin 98
Gryffindor 53
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 15
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01