Talks of the Sol

Harry woke, something heavy and warm draped over his chest. It was comfortable and he didn't really want to move. Besides, he figured it was just one of Sol's wings covering him, considering the warmth.

A twittering from across the room alerted Harry to the fact that it wasn't her. In surprise, he jerked his head to the side, wondering what, or who, was laying on him then.

Harry blinked thrice rapidly, not believing what he was seeing and experiencing; Snape, coated in a layer of dried blood, was fast asleep on his side, with his face half buried in a pillow, an arm draped over Harry's torso. Another trill from Sol told him that this was reality, he wasn't dreaming, and Harry lurched, trying to pull himself away.

His shifting must've roused Snape, for the man opened his eyes, turning his head, arm still wrapped securely around Harry. Their eyes met, and in them, there seemed to be the same searching quality as earlier. Then Snape finally appeared to register what was going on, glancing down briefly where his arm lay and he jolted, promptly removing it from where it had rested, raising to the edge of the bed.

This left Harry feeling embarrassed and angry, with just a tinge of something else. Why had Snape of all people been sleeping with him? How had this happened exactly? What was going on here?

Harry's rage mounted with each unanswered question. Throwing himself out of bed, he went to confront Snape, who was still sitting there, staring at Sol.

"Just what the bloody hell-," Harry started, but was interrupted by a shushing noise and a brisk "Calm yourself Potter," from Snape. They locked eyes and, strangely, the fury melted, though that might've had something to do with the low hum coming from Sol.

As the humming continued, Harry walked over to her, disregarding Snape temporarily, reverently petting her head. He was enamoured with Sol, still so awed with her presence. The sound coming from her hit a peak, and Harry swore he heard her say his name, but as the noise faded to a gentle warble, he dismissed the notion.

Now that Harry was calmer though, other emotions began bombarding him. The raw feelings from the day prior were coming back, all the embarrassment, confusion and pain. It hit him like a lorry, and he stumbled back into Sol, who wrapped him in her wings. The warmth helped, though only somewhat, against the sudden cool he felt, followed by a high-pitched whine, as he was wracked with sorrow and guilt.

There seemed to be no end to the amount of agony he was suffering, had suffered, would likely still suffer. Harry desperately wanted to escape, get away from these feelings, though he didn't know how. Then flashes of a glass shard filled his mind, cutting himself with it, and it was suddenly all he wanted. He went for his wand, only to find he didn't have it on him. Scouring the room, he saw a crystal vase full of lilies nearby which, frantically, he went to and smashed. Grabbing blindly at the pieces, one sliced open a gouge in his palm. Just as he closed his eyes to relish in the sensation, feel the relief, Snape clasped his wrist, wrenching his hand away from the now bloodied fragments.

Fury flit through Harry, that unknown rage again. He wrestled wildly against Snape's grasp, flailing with all his might trying to get back to the broken glass, however the man proved to be the stronger of the two and held on. They struggled together for a long moment before Snape managed to pin him to the nearest wall.

As Snape held Harry there, Sol flew over, landing beside them, crooning. Snape cocked his head slightly and then stared at him intently. Harry glared back, until all at once, his resistance faded, and he slumped in Snape's arms.

Surprisingly, the man didn't immediately let go. Instead, he gave Harry's shoulders the briefest of squeezes, before leading him over to the bed and pushing him gently down.

With these gestures, Harry's defenses fully cracked, and he began crying in great, heaving sobs.

Severus had awoken from a dream about Lily to a sudden movement beside him. When he shifted to look at the source, he froze. Was he still dreaming? For it seemed that Lily's eyes were staring back at him. He searched them for the truth, only to realise that these belonged to Harry, her son. Then he looked at how they were laying and instantly recoiled, retracting his arm and pulling himself up.

As quickly as he was able given the situation, Severus, sitting on the edge of the bed now, drew on his Occlumency practices. Drawing in a deep breath, he quelled his raging thoughts and emotions to process later, when alone.

Once his defenses were in place, he turned on Sol.

'You said I would have answers,' Severus thought at her. 'But instead, I just have more questions than ever.'

'And I shall answer to the best of my ability, what I can,' she replied in his mind. 'But some things I can only relay when you are both ready.'

'And what does that mean?' but before Severus could hear an answer, Harry, who was still caked in dried blood from the day prior, confronted him.

"Just what the bloody hell-," the boy yelled.

Shushing him, telling him to calm down, Severus gave him a look, trying to convey to not interrupt. It seemed to work, for Harry went silent, turning away to Sol, who started speaking at Severus again.

'It means you are prepared, and he is not. His mind is weak, and it will take much time and effort on both our part to help Harry.' The humming reached a high pitch on the word Harry. 'Protect him with me.'

"With all that I am," Severus breathed in response, the faintest of sounds.

Just as the words left his mouth, he felt a throb in the back of his skull. Harry fell into Sol, curling in on himself as if punched, Sol surrounding him with her wings.

Severus could feel the agony emanating from the young man, could almost sense how he was feeling. Images floated in his head, indistinct, but still there, as if he was picking up on all the memories Harry was experiencing. Trying to block them hurt Severus' brain, so he let them flow freely, until the same memory of the glass shard from the night before settled in his minds eye.

Then, Harry went frantic, patting himself down, looking wildly around the room. Severus somehow knew what Harry was going to do, stood up to intervene, but the boy was too quick for him. Before he had the chance to stop him, Harry had knocked over his vase of lilies and was grabbing at a broken piece.

Severus grasped hold of him just as a jagged edge bit into Harry's palm. The young man writhed against his grip, hissing something at him, but Severus held firm. The struggle continued until Severus had managed to pin Harry to the wall.

Sol swooped over to them, a light airy sound coming from her. 'Look him in the eyes,' she demanded. Severus cocked his head at her but proceeded to do as instructed. Harry's eyes were tinged brown just around the pupils and as he stared at them, it faded back to their usual green and the boy sagged in his arms.

At a loss for words, but wanting to reassure Harry, Severus briefly clasped his shoulders and led him over to the bed, where the boy collapsed into a sobbing heap.

Awkwardly, Severus sat beside him, resonating with the heart-wrenching wails coming from Harry. Sol landed on his knee, keening herself. Grief overcame him in that moment and even with his occlumency barrier still up, he could feel the tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

'Now's no time to be grieving when we have to help Harry,' Severus chided, just as much at himself as at Sol. 'What do I do?'

Sol whined at him, barely managing a 'Comfort him,' before resuming her lament.

Severus wasn't sure what to do; he was woefully unaware of how to comfort someone properly. Sure, he had been comforted by his mother all those ages ago, and comforted by Lily when he was bullied, to an extent, but Harry was different than them. Not just that in he was a male, but also in that he wasn't sure a hug was what the boy needed, or Merlin forbid, wanted. A part of him said that he should just hold the boy, but the rest screamed back, resisting the idea. Finally, when the wailing became intolerable, Severus settled for patting Harry's back.

Both Sol and Harry must've been comforted by the action, for the keening was quelled and the sobbing lessened. Sol leaned into Severus from where she rested, radiating strength and comfort. It was a palpable feeling that filled the room, reassuring in its essence.

Yet, Harry was still crying and Severus subconsciously started rubbing his back in small circles, thinking on everything that had occurred. Something was clearly wrong with the young man, but he couldn't place what. No, that wasn't the truth; he just didn't want to think of the "thing" that lay deep at Harry's core.

Trembling slightly now but taking heart from the Phoenix pressed against his chest, Severus felt questions bubbling to the surface again. How was the boy possessed by the Dark Lord? What had happened to cause that? Was it this possession that was causing the erratic behaviour from the young man? Clearly, it was far from a superficial tie, with how far down he had to delve into Harry's mind to find the source. Whatever the case was, he needed to know the cause to help Harry deal with it.

Still tracing circles onto a now silent Harry's back, Severus tentatively reached out with his other hand to Sol, gently brushing her soft plumage, both hoping for and dreading any answers that she might give him.

Crooning, Sol leant into his touch, reassuring him that regardless of what she might tell him, that he could rely on her. Then she began to speak, a low and gentle hum.

"This is more than mere possession," Sol stated. "The child has a piece of Voldemort's soul intwined to his own."

Severus stilled as he felt a chill leach into him at the proclamation, even with the radiating warmth of Sol and, to some extent, Harry. Thoughts flew rapidly through his mind at the revelation. 'Harry and the Dark Lord are bound together at the soul. That means they are magically and physically connected. Which means that in all sense and purposes Harry is the Dark Lord, not just a part of him.'

Everything began to sway slightly with this realisation. The air became difficult to breathe, feeling heavy and thick, and a low drone developed in the back of his skull. Everything felt like a blur, and he needed to escape, get away, go anywhere, right now. Ignoring Sol's plaintive trills to wait as he pushed her off him, and unnoticing of Harry's whimpers, he lurched his way out of his quarters without a backwards glance.