Seven Drops and Asphodel Blooms
Summary: When Harry blows up his aunt during the summer, Dumbledore is much quicker to react. Snape finds him far before the Minister does, but his plan of dropping him off with a lecture and half a dozen additional summer assignments doesn't work out.
In which Harry spends the summer at Spinner's End.
Chapter 31
There was no light in the trunk. Alastor existed in a dark, silent haze, seconds and minutes and hours bleeding into each other and skipping ahead and getting lost—he was almost grateful whenever he was swallowed up by it entirely. As long as he wasn't aware, he could pretend that he didn't exist. He could pretend that he wasn't being used for some maniac's schemes.
Moments when he managed to claw himself to awareness became rarer and rarer. The trunk would open. A potion would be forced down his throat. The haze would dull his senses, leaving him defenseless and on his own in the darkness once more.
And again. And again.
Time was tricky to tell when there was nothing to tell it by. Weeks could have passed, or months, or lifetimes, and Alastor would be none the wiser. His hair kept getting thinner, and he knew what that meant, too. As long as the bastard who'd caught him played his cards right, nobody would be looking for him.
Again. And again. And again. And—
The next time Alastor was aware, there was somebody in the trunk with him.
"Of course I'll keep an eye on him," Minerva said, her voice low so it wouldn't disturb the boy sleeping in the hospital wing. "But do you really believe it necessary?"
"Perhaps not." There was a chance Severus was mistaken. It would be preferable for him to be. And yet… "After everything that's happened to him, can you blame me for my caution?"
"I suppose not."
Besides, Weasley had not yet been found. Though Severus did not hold the same fondness for their students that Minerva did, he, too, was unnerved at the notion of one of them disappearing with no trace. Even now Granger sat huddled at Harry's side, waiting for news while Harry remained in the throes of exhaustion. He'd taken her aside earlier to consult the map of theirs that so blatantly contributed to their frequent rule-breaking—though with no success. Granger guaranteed that the map had never before malfunctioned. If Weasley wasn't on it, so she said, then he had either left the castle grounds or inhabited a part of the castle the creators had not known to include when making the map.
Minerva's eyes hovered on the doors to the hospital wing. Severus had rarely seen her so shaken up despite years of knowing her. "Has he told you what happened in the graveyard?"
"Other than what I personally watched being done to him?" Severus asked snidely.
"Oh, quit it," Minerva said, terse in equal measure. "As both of you are in as good health as you could be considering the circumstances, I have little patience for ill-placed feelings of guilt from the one who saved both of your lives."
"We both would have died if not for Harry."
"So be proud of him." Minerva threw up her hands. "You were placed in an all-but impossible situation. Yet, you both live to tell the tale."
"Nevertheless—"
"Was it not you who lectured the boy on feeling responsible for every misfortune on the planet?" Minerva cut him off. "Perhaps you ought to take your own advice."
Severus had nothing else to say.
The magnitude to which he'd come to care about Harry still unnerved him. For years he'd thought he was beyond attachment to other people. Nothing had mattered other than the fight against the Dark Lord's return. Nothing other than his own personal atonement.
He hadn't thought himself capable of still feeling these sorts of emotions. To care so deeply. To throw away everything he'd been working towards for the past decade of his life to save one child.
It was terrifying.
It was exhilarating.
"May I ask one question?" Minerva's voice—even quieter now than before—interrupted his musings.
"Ask."
"Had Harry not been put in danger tonight," Minerva said, "but had You-Know-Who still returned... Would you... That is, would we—"
"I would have rejoined his side as a spy and let everybody, including you, believe that I had betrayed you."
Minerva paled, though she clung to her composure admirably. "And had it come to a fight?"
"We would have fought."
"On opposing sides."
"If necessary," Severus said quietly.
They paused on that disconcerting thought. That all-too-real scenario that could have been.
"It would have been difficult to come back from that," Minerva said.
Keeping secrets was as second nature to Severus as anything. Yet, having lost his role in the game he'd been playing along with for years, he found that honesty wormed its way in front of diversions and half-truths.
"I had not expected to emerge from the mission alive, much less..." He trailed off, unable to put the sensation into words.
Minerva, though she looked as though struck-ill, did not comment. "Relieved?" she suggested. "Happy?"
And although Severus was not ready to label the lightness in his chest that so contrasted with the burden of duty and guilt, he couldn't deny either of those things.
Severus gave in to the urge he'd had since bumping into the man after the graveyard and headed for Moody's office.
He'd never been able to read the old auror like he was able to read others—Moody was too skilled an Occlumens. And though Moody's suspicion of him was unsurprising (Moody harboring dislike for any Death Eater having gone unpunished), Severus had the disconcerting notion that there was more to it.
He didn't like the hawk-like focus with which Moody had watched Harry whenever he'd poked his head into the hospital wing. Severus had no name for what he'd seen in the man's mismatched eyes, and yet... And yet.
Severus had once again made use of the trio's map to ascertain Moody's office would be empty. He picked the lock, preferring to make amends with Dumbledore after the act rather than ask permission and risk foregoing answers. He would not gain sympathy from Moody in case he was mistaken, but then again, allyship (much less friendship) would never exist between the two of them.
Searching the office was a tedious affair. Severus could not flip over a single piece of parchment without first checking it for enchantments. He found devices meant to detect hidden enemies, notes written in code he would need to spend hours on to decipher, books upon books of questionable contents and origin... Sadly, while suspicious in any other context, none of the things he found were out-of-place for a man with Moody's reputation.
Severus only smelled the flask left on Moody's overcrowded desk out of thoroughness, not expecting to find anything of note.
"I usually hex people bold enough to invade my private space."
Severus set down the flask without turning. "How very generous of you to make an exception."
"Can't say I'm planning to make a habit of it." Moody's mismatched steps sounded through the room.
Severus ignored the sound of the door closing behind him. "Have you heard?" he drawled. "It was Potter's friend who handed him the portkey that transported him away from the castle."
Moody's natural eye narrowed. "Which one?"
"Weasley."
"Weasley," Moody repeated. "Acting on what motivation?"
"That is yet to be determined." Severus paused. "We've been unable to procure his side of the events. The boy has been missing since the third task."
"The castle's been searched?"
"By the heads of houses. Headmaster Dumbledore intends to spread the news among the staff any moment now."
"And I presume the reason you've broken into my office is to be the very first to deliver the news," Moody growled.
"Merely investigating a private matter," Severus said smoothly. His right hand, hidden by his robes, closed gingerly around his wand. "Did you know that over the course of the school year, potion ingredients have been going missing from my storage?"
Moody's attack almost hit its mark despite Severus having anticipated it. Light sparked from both of their wands, crashing into walls, tearing items from Moody's desk, smashing the large mirror at one end of the office. Moody cast his spells non-verbally just like Severus. Though his spell-casting was ruthless, he lacked the real Alastor Moody's decades' worth of auror experience.
Most magical duels were settled in a matter of seconds. Severus emerged from this one victorious, disheveled and with an unconscious imposter at his feet right as Pomona barged into the office. A few students peeked over her shoulders, attracted by the noises.
Her eyes went wide at the sight of not-Moody's slumped form. "Severus? What—"
"Polyjuice," Severus said shortly.
Pomona's breath caught in her throat. She grabbed her wand and aimed it at not-Moody, mirroring Severus. "Are you alright?" Turning her head, she told the students at her heels to fetch Dumbledore.
"Fine." With Pomona there to have an eye on the imposter, Severus picked up his interrupted investigation. The churning in his stomach wouldn't settle until he knew exactly who and what they were dealing with.
The only item missing from his search was a large trunk with seven keyholes that hadn't opened for any of Severus' spells. "Does he have a key on him?"
Pomona found it after a brief search. The uncanny sensation in his stomach doubled as Severus opened one compartment of the trunk after another. He reached the last layer. His face must have given him away, because Pomona peered over his shoulder into the trunk and paled.
Severus straightened up, his lips pressed into a grim line. "I will keep watch," he said, aiming his wand at the motionless imposter once more. "Go inform Madam Pomfrey."
Pomona hastened out of the office without another word.
Severus didn't take his eyes away from not-Moody once, though his thoughts surrounded the two prisoners stored away in the magical trunk. He hoped they were alive. He wouldn't know how to tell Harry that he'd at last found his friend, were it already too late.
When Harry woke up, Sirius was sitting next to his hospital bed. He watched his godfather's lips move without taking in any of what he was saying and wondered why he was there.
His right arm ached with the phantom pain of steel slicing through skin and tissue, and everything crashed down on him at once. Ron. The portkey. The graveyard. And him. Voldemort. For years Harry had grappled with shadows or memories of the real thing, but now...
"Harry!" Strong arms wrapped around him in an almost crushing hug. Sirius buried one of his hands in Harry's hair and used the other to press him firmly against his chest. "It's so good to see you awake."
Harry returned the hug easily. He closed his eyes and let himself be held, feeling like his entire world might unravel as soon as Sirius let go. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long." Sirius loosened his grip so Harry could sit up beside him, but didn't let go. "Your friend's been filling me in."
Harry felt mildly embarrassed at the realization that Hermione must have stayed in the hospital wing after he'd fallen asleep.
"I'll give you some privacy," Hermione said, jumping to her feet just as Harry's eyes met hers.
"You don't have to go," Harry protested.
"It's fine." She waved him off. "Madam Pomfrey already tried to kick me out."
"You two really gave her a scare, you know." Sirius nodded towards the door after it had closed behind Hermione. "She argued with Madam Pomfrey for ages. Didn't want to leave you all on your own, I figure."
Harry's eyes strayed to the other occupied bed in the room. They'd curtained off one end of the hospital wing to give the real Mad-Eye some privacy, but Ron laid only two beds across from Harry. He'd been sleeping almost the entire time since he'd been found.
"He's gonna be alright." Sirius had followed his gaze. "Hermione told me."
"Madam Pomfrey says so." According to her, Mad-Eye and Ron had likely been kept sedated, though she couldn't say what with. After making sure it wasn't a permanent state, she said it was safer to let them sleep it off on their own. Harry trusted that she knew what she was doing, but he hadn't been able to talk to Ron at all.
"So how much longer are you going to make me wait for your story, huh?"
"Didn't anybody tell you what happened?"
Sirius scoffed. "The broad strokes, maybe. I want to hear it from you." He paused. "If you want to. I'm not gonna make you."
But Harry felt that refusing to talk about what had happened would blow it up into something he wouldn't be able to even think about without breaking out into cold sweat.
So—stumbling and stuttering and picking his way through it word for word like navigating a minefield—Harry told him everything, starting with being given the portkey by Ron. Or Crouch-as-Ron; nobody had really been clear on whether Crouch had Imperio'd him or used Polyjuice to impersonate him.
"I don't really get why he tried to get me inside the maze," Harry admitted. "He could have just given me the portkey from the start."
"Would have been cleaner that way." Sirius shrugged. "Like you were being reckless and went into the maze on your own. Tragic, but your own fault."
Harry supposed that made sense. Everybody would have believed it, too. Harry already had a reputation of getting himself into trouble all the time.
"What I don't get is how you managed to get back. You can't apparate on Hogwarts grounds. Everybody knows that."
"We didn't apparate." Harry hadn't really thought about it before, but, "Snape must have grabbed the portkey."
"After you caused the distraction."
Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. "We only had one chance. Couldn't exactly escape with all the Death Eaters watching."
Sirius looked queasy at the thought of their escape having hinged almost completely on timing and chance. "How'd you manage that, anyway? I figured taking away your wand would have been the first thing he'd do."
Harry's mood—already less than stellar—shriveled up further. "He did. I got it back for—I mean, he made me, you know. Fight him." He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw hurt. "But I couldn't. I didn't stand a chance. He'd just disarm me and," he swallowed painfully, "you know. Till he was bored."
That only seemed to upset Sirius more. "How in the world did you get out?" His voice sounded almost as hoarse as it had last year, after having lived as a dog for over a decade.
Despite everything, Harry felt a spark of pride. "Snape taught me how to cast wandless spells." A grin crept up on his face even though he hadn't felt like smiling all day. "At least simple ones."
"For real?" Sirius' eyes went wide. "Harry, that's—that's amazing."
Harry's ears felt warm. Snape had already complimented him on the wandless Levicorpus—which meant all the more, considering how rarely the man offered praise.
His mood sobered almost as quickly as it had risen. "I didn't get to grab my wand before we left, though," he muttered. Voldemort had probably snapped it by now. Something in his chest ached terribly at the thought.
"You can get another wand," Sirius said dismissively. "I did, remember? I wouldn't be able to get another godson, though."
But while it sounded simple when Sirius said it, it didn't feel that way at all. Harry'd only ever used a few wands other than his own, and none had ever worked the same way. The wand chose the wizard—that's what Ollivander had told him all those years ago. He could get another, sure. But would it choose him the way his old wand had? Or would it feel like a new pair of shoes that didn't quite fit? Functional, but off in a way that would remind him forever of what he had lost?
Maybe Harry was being dramatic, but he was almost as attached to his wand as he was to Hedwig. He couldn't help but to feel like he'd gotten away with his life, but still had lost something irreplaceable in the process.
The following days felt endless to Severus. Even with Harry safely back at Hogwarts, even with Barty Crouch Jr. discovered and taken into custody, there was always one more thing to take care of. One more retelling of what they'd witnessed in the graveyard. One more person to assure of his loyalties.
It took an entire day until Dumbledore—already deep in the preparations made necessary by the Dark Lord's abrupt surge to power—managed to make room for a private conversation. One that Severus wished with all his might to forgo.
Dumbledore granted him the mercy of cutting straight to the point. "Severus," he said, his expression somber. "I know you have quite different things on your mind. Nevertheless, your cover—"
"Seeing as I aimed a killing curse at the Dark Lord, I believe it rather likely that my cover is blown." Though the words left his mouth with no tone inflection whatsoever, Severus felt them tear apart something deep inside of him—forming a gaping, bleeding wound.
He wasn't telling Dumbledore anything he did not already know. Yet, the headmaster closed his eyes—a gesture that would have been subtle on anybody else, but for Dumbledore might as well have suggested a physical blow.
The wound widened and festered. Severus drew his mouth into a harsh line. "My apologies for losing you our little tactical advantage. I'm sure it is quite devastating for you to—"
"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. A small breath left his lips, a barely audible sound. "You did the right thing. Thank you for saving Harry's life."
All the righteousness left Severus' sails and left him to float aimlessly. The wound kept bleeding, but the ache was momentarily forgotten. "You cannot use any of your plans that involve me gathering information any longer."
"I'm more worried about the target you've painted on your back."
Severus scoffed. "Did you think I would not?"
"I'd hoped you wouldn't need to."
Severus was not privy to the entirety of Dumbledore's plans. He doubted anyone other than the man himself was. But he knew that just like that, one evening might have set him back years. An evening they might have prevented, had they not allowed a traitor to walk in their midst.
"Perhaps if I'd done my job, it wouldn't have come to it." Severus pulled his face into a sneer. "We've had a Death Eater parading around Hogwarts for a year."
"That isn't your failure alone to bear," Dumbledore said. "None of the staff—myself included—realized that Mr. Crouch Jr. was anyone other than who he claimed to be."
Yet, here they were. Three people in the hospital wing. One awaiting his judgment much like Pettigrew at the end of the last school year. And out there, having seized power once more, the very manifestation of all the mistakes Severus had made over the course of his life.
"You should know that during the struggle I killed at least three of them," Severus said tonelessly. None of the Dark Lord's followers had their master's talent for escaping death.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Were you able to recognize who?"
"No. I had only seconds to get us out."
"He will want to stay in the shadows, at least for the moment," Dumbledore mused. "I would not be surprised if they attempted to cover up the deaths entirely."
The back of Severus' throat felt as though it was coated with ash. "Depending on their identities, that might prove a challenge."
"We shall see." Dumbledore folded his hands neatly on his desk. "You know what this means for yourself and Harry," he said quietly.
"Of course."
"Have you thought of your options for the holidays?"
Severus pressed his lips together. "I've discussed it with Black. We've come to an agreement."
"I'm glad to hear it." Dumbledore paused as though considering leaving it at that. "I'm proud of both of you. It couldn't have been easy considering your history."
"This isn't about us," Severus muttered, knowing that last year, nothing short of the apocalypse descending upon England in a fiery wave of fiendfyre could have made him accept help from Sirius Black.
A/N:
Snape: I've had Harry for almost 2 years and if anything happened to him I would kill everybody in this castle and then myself
xxx
Also Snape: kills three people that might have been former classmates, colleagues or even friends
Snape: I shall deal with this
Snape: Never
xxx
The real tragedy is that Snape wasn't in the hospital wing when Sirius was to take notes on how to give a hug.
Huge thanks to my wonderful betas To Mockingbird, Igornerd, flyingcat, fishbake, Gasmeros and ethirielalways!
~Gwen