Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Way of the Patronus	By : QueenB Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 15104 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in anyway, shape or form. The rights of such belong solely to J.K Rowling. I do not make any money or accrue any monetary benefit on this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A menacing figure stalked the grimy pathways of Knockturn Alley. Only the brave, desperate or criminally minded dared walk these particular streets. Here were the dodgier aspects of the wizarding world, its dark underbelly, so to speak. Many wizards ignored this place, save for telling their children to avoid it. Like most people, they preferred to believe that the world was all sunshine and light, except for the occasional dark wizard like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Perversely he had always found himself at home here, even during his school days. Its seedy, broken-down aspect reminded him of his home.
While he had hated the despairing poverty and gray industrial skyline of Spinners End, he had hated even more the atmosphere of resentment that seethed through the house whenever his drunken father was home. Ever reminded of his wife’s freakish nature whenever he looked on her, the slightest word or glance from her dark eyes would be enough to precipitate a vicious row. As a child, Severus had sworn he would leave and take his mother with him when he was old enough.
A fall down the stairs, breaking her neck, had ended that particular dream. He’d learned of her accident during his fourth year at Hogwarts. It had been a bitter blow for Severus, a stark lesson about how even magic couldn’t protect the ones you loved. He had suspected his father of the deed but neighbors had sworn Tobias Snape had been absent on one of his sodden binges when the accident had occurred.
After that, all Severus had to worry about was his own future. Potions had provided the answer to his escape and the Dark Arts had shown the way. Digging into the Hogwarts library, he had discovered ways and means to craft innocent ingredients into deadly and untraceable toxins and found the tools for his burgeoning talents. He had learned to concoct his own unique potions for barter or sale with the denizens of Knockturn Alley and gained enough magical power to stand toe to toe with the more dangerous individuals there. In time, Severus Snape had amassed sufficient skill and money to draw the attention of one Lucius Malfoy.
The rest, as they say, had been history.
His lips twisted as he recalled how the young Malfoy had taken an interest in him then, had set out to woo him. Cautious as he’d learned to be, he was starved for affection and, when Lily had turned to James Potter, Lucius had been there to whisper of affection, praise and show him a world of sensual delight he’d never dreamed possible.
The familiar bitterness coated his mouth with ash as he thought of their final tete a tete…
Lucius smiled at him from across the table. He had chosen an expensive restaurant and Severus was awed by the luxury of his surroundings. Of course at Hogwarts he was used to eating off golden plates. But this place, with its crystal chandeliers, velvet hangings and unseen orchestra, spoke of the highest kind of class. It held the hush of a cathedral, with muted conversations coming from elegantly dressed diners and waiters slinking about on cat’s feet as they brought menus and murmured suggestions.
Since he had been brought into the Death Eater fold by Lucius, his lover had been unavailable to him. Never at home when he called, always elsewhere on an errand for the Dark Lord or surrounded by other Death Eaters, Lucius had all but disappeared from his life. This dinner was the first time in months they’d been alone.
“You had something you wanted to say to me, Lucius?” Severus murmured while he picked at a cordon bleu steak. His hands were trembling for some reason and he fought to still them.
“Yes, Severus. I wanted you to be the first to know so you could congratulate me.” Lucius lifted a glass of white wine, turning it this way and that as he admired its golden color.
“Congratulate you on what?”
Lucius took a sip of the wine, drawing out his answer. “On my upcoming marriage.”
The meaning of the words didn’t quite register. Marriage? What marriage? “I’m sorry. W-what did you say?”
Lucius smiled, nectar over shards of ice. “I’m getting married. The wedding is taking place next month.”
He couldn’t have heard aright. Lucius couldn’t be getting married. His busy schedule as one of Voldemort’s lackeys meant he didn’t have time to socialize outside of their charmed circle. There were no women among the Death Eaters, unless you counted Bellatrix Black and everyone knew she was fucking Rodolphus Lestrange.
Lucius went on, seeming not to notice his lover’s growing bewilderment. “She’s a lovely girl. Narcissa Black, Bella’s charming sister. The Blacks are an excellent pureblood family and have been in Slytherin House for generations.”
“Except for Sirius Black,” Severus mumbled dazedly, still reeling from the news, trying to work it through his brain.
The pale lips twisted. “Well, there are black sheep in every family, even among the Blacks.” He smirked at his own wit. Then he glanced at Severus. “You still haven’t congratulated me, Severus.”
“Marriage…h-how can you be getting married? You’ve never said a word…” he quavered.
Lucius shrugged, the lift of the shoulders elegant and graceful like everything else about him. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately.”
“Whose fault is that? You’ve kept yourself away from me.” All at once Severus understood. Lucius had been putting distance between them for this very reason: he had been planning to abandon Severus all along. This dinner was meant to be the end of the affair.
In spite of knowing that his lover was in the midst of throwing him over, Severus couldn’t resist begging. “Lucius, you can’t…what about us?”
White gold eyebrows rose on the smooth forehead. “Us? Surely you didn’t think what we shared could last. I am an only child, son and the latest in a long line of pureblood wizards. As heir to the Malfoy line, I have a family duty to marry and produce an heir to carry on the family name and inherit the Malfoy fortune.”
He reached out to brush Severus’s clenched fist. “I enjoyed myself with you, Severus, truly I did. But this fling…”
“Fling?!?” Severus’s voice rose. Lucius drew back with a reproving look, glancing briefly around the restaurant.
“Yes, fling, Severus,” he repeated sternly. “It’s a holdover from our schoolboy days and as such must be set aside with childish things.”
“B-but you said you loved me,” Severus whispered, his voice cracking on the word. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He blinked them back furiously, determined to focus on the man seated opposite him.
The cool, silver-eyed stare was looking through him as though at a stranger. “So I did. But that’s over now. I must fulfill my duty and get married.”
“Does she know about us?” he shot back. The misery was giving way to a rising fury; in his mind he was feverishly turning over ways to force Lucius to stay with him, through blackmail if necessary.
Lucius’s gaze narrowed, as if guessing Severus’s intentions. “Narcissa is a charming girl and understanding about my little…proclivities. If you wish to get together now and then after we are married, I’m sure she will have no objections. Of course, that would depend on your behavior in the matter. If you make a fuss, I’m afraid any liaisons would be impossible.”
If he made… Yes, he saw now the brilliance of Lucius’s scheme. He likely had no intention of being with Severus after marriage. Hadn’t Lucius already been avoiding him since he had recruited Severus into Voldemort’s inner circle? The seduction had been nothing more than the bait to get a skilled potions brewer into the Dark Lord’s clutches. Having achieved his purpose, Lucius was now free to throw him off like a dirty cloak and marry his pureblood intended.
Magic crackled within him, on the verge of unleashing itself and striking the blonde figure across the table. Suddenly two waiters appeared at Severus’s side, wands drawn discreetly out of sight of the other patrons.
The waiter on his left spoke with barely moving lips; from his bland expression he could have been discussing the dessert menu. “Sir, there is no magical casting allowed in the restaurant save from the staff. If you don’t desist immediately, you will be ejected from the premises.”
Severus glanced at them. Both men bore the aura of dark magic and one of them was burly; he looked capable of throwing him from the restaurant by brute force if necessary. Severus took a shuddering breath and reined in his magic through sheer force of will.
The waiters withdrew but he could feel them hovering near, ready to take him down with a well-placed hex, no doubt. Throughout the encounter, Lucius had remained unmoving, his serene expression revealing nothing. To judge by his demeanour, the whole confrontation might not have taken place.
“Well, Severus, shall we order dessert?”
Severus stared at him in disbelief. Did Lucius actually expect him to eat after this? He wanted to fling his wine in the man’s face. But he couldn’t ignore the watchful staff.
Mutely, he shook his head. The effort of containing his magic and his churning emotions had left him feeling ill, like he might regurgitate the entire contents of his stomach.
Lucius finished his wine and then gestured to the waiter. He settled the bill and rose to leave. In a daze, Severus followed him. He still hadn’t spoken since Lucius’s final offer of future sexual bouts but his former lover appeared to take no notice. He began chattering gaily about an opera he had seen recently and criticized the singers and orchestra. No further mention was made of his upcoming nuptials, Narcissa or his affair with Severus.
However, when he placed an arm around his paramour, Severus shrugged him off with an expression of absolute loathing. Lucius sighed. “Severus, I’m sorry things are ending on such a sour note.”
“No, you’re not,” Severus answered in a low voice. He prided himself on speaking without a tremor or the faintest hint of tears.
His blonde paramour answered with a calmness that Severus wanted to curse off his face. “Since that’s the way you choose to take this, it must be goodbye, Severus. I hope we can treat each other civilly in the future.”
“Hardly. I intend to see as little of you as possible, you bastard.”
For the first time that night, menace crossed Lucius’s features. “Au contraire. We must still meet whenever the Dark Lord’s followers convene. No matter what you feel towards me, do not forget the loyalty you owe to him, Severus.”
“I think you should be leaving now before I hex you, Lucius. I’ve learned some very good ones, as you know,” Severus replied with an extremely unpleasant smile.
The threat disappeared to reveal a hint of fear. Severus did indeed know ugly hexes, courtesy of his self-teachings; Lucius had seen a few of them in action. Without another word, though he kept a cautious eye on Severus, he stepped away and Disapparated.
Severus’s hands clenched inside his cloak. If he could have seen his reflection, he might have understood why a few people sidling up to him to beg or nick his purse had blinked and scuttled away, deciding to pick on a less intimidating target. It was the same murderous glare he’d fixed on Remus Lupin when the werewolf was announced to be the DADA professor over three years ago.
He shut off the memory. He had cast off his feelings for Lucius Malfoy long ago. What mostly remained whenever he thought of that night was disgust at his younger self for having been tricked so facilely. Lucius had played him for a fool and he’d fallen for his wiles like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Love. It had always failed him. Even the love he’d borne for his hapless mother had ended in heartbreak and pain.
And yet…
As usual, Severus had woken early. Momentarily disoriented about waking in strange surroundings, he had tensed at the unfamiliar sensation of another person in his bed. Turning over, he’d seen his student--his bondmate--nestled against his side and snoring softly through puffed lips.
Harry. There was a balm to waking to such a beauty, one who slept with such unconcern beside him. It spoke volumes, more so than any sex ever could. What was sex after all except the commingling of bodily fluids that could be exchanged between any two or more random strangers? To sleep in such casual fashion as Harry did said, without any words, that Harry trusted him, that he accepted his presence in his bed. This was true intimacy.
Lucius had never allowed Severus to sleep at his manor. No matter how tired Severus had been, Lucius had always insisted that he leave before the sun came up. When Severus had questioned him about it, he had said something vague about how the other Death Eaters might use Severus’s affections against Lucius if they ever learned about it.
They were Slytherins, after all, and Slytherins protected themselves first; everyone else came a distant second. He should have regarded that latter statement as a warning.
There had been no such withdrawal from Harry. The memory of the lovemaking he’d shared with the adolescent came rushing back, excitement and desire coiling once more through his body.
Sometime later during the previous night, the Gryffindor had recovered his strength and roused Severus with a quite improper blowjob. Severus had woken with a sigh and then a loud groan before spilling into that wicked mouth. Drawing Harry up had resulted in a very satisfying kiss, laden with the thickness of his own seed.
This morning, he had been reluctant to wake his bondmate; there was something so endearing about the way he’d slept that Severus had hated to end it. When he’d reached over and stroked through the tousled hair, Harry had stirred at last and looked up at him through sleep-fogged green eyes.
The teenager had stiffened in surprise and Severus had braced himself for the storm. No matter what had happened in the night, morning had a way of bringing stinging regret.
Then Harry had relaxed and given him a slow smile that had caused Severus’s heart to flop and do silly things inside his chest. “Morning, Severus.”
“Good morning. How are you?” he’d said in as neutral voice as he could manage.
“Fine. Brilliant. Perfect. You?”
“I’m well.”
Harry’s smile had faded a little at his stiff tone. “Severus, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I hope. But it’s time you left. You should return to your Tower before your companions awaken and find you missing.”
Harry had sat up, worry sharp in those green eyes. “You’re lying to me. You’re upset; I can feel it so don’t bother denying it.”
Harry was detecting his feelings; Severus had forgotten the bond made that possible. Well, everything had a negative aspect, he supposed. “Harry, do you realize the seriousness of what we did last night?”
The worry had eased as the grin returned. “Well, yeah. It was bloody fantastic, Severus. I don’t see the problem.”
“I don’t mean the sex, you foolish child!” Shock and hurt had rebounded within him. Severus had flinched from the intensity of emotions not his own.
Harry had gripped his shoulders, slamming Severus back into the pillows. The green eyes had been alight with anger and that heat had tingled over his skin once more. By Circe, the adolescent truly was breathtaking in the throes of anger. However, he had the feeling this wasn’t going to lead to mind-blowing sex.
“Severus, I know it’s hard for you to accept such things. But I’m not stupid and I’m not a child, no matter what you think. I understand what happened between us. I know we’re bonded.”
He had leaned closer, his breath brushing over Severus’s face in a warm caress. “And I have no regrets. You’re the one that I want. This wasn’t a mistake for me and, even if I could back out of this, I’m not going to.”
“But you are so young. It’s easy to be misled at your age. You will come to regret this.”
Harry had shaken his head stubbornly. “I won’t. I love you. Love isn’t something that changes or feels regret.”
With bitterness, Severus had thought of his parents’s marriage, of his time with Lucius. “You ignorant boy. You know so little of the world.”
“Are you saying you don’t love me? That you’re feeling sorry for all this?”
His voice had been calm and in Harry’s emotions Severus had sensed no doubt. He could deny his feelings but his bondmate wouldn’t believe it. About something like this, there could be no lies between them.
He had hedged a little. “I know, as you don’t, that events and changing circumstances can put terrible strain on partners. You will look around at other people, see them with their children and their happy lives. When people know you are tied to a man old enough to be your father and a former Death Eater, they will react with disgust and hatred. Are you telling me that won’t matter?”
“It won’t. People have been trashing me in school and in the papers since my second year when they thought I was turning my schoolmates to stone. I’ve learned to let it wash off my back. Don’t tell me you give a rat’s arse about what people think ‘cause I won’t believe it, Severus,” he had finished with a smirk.
No, he didn’t. No one’s opinion mattered to him except Dumbledore and he knew they already had the old man’s approval.
He had wound his arms around that nubile body with a sigh. “The idiocy of Gryffindors.”
Harry had settled into his embrace and started playing with his hair. “Slytherins can be pretty dumb, too. I heard Lucius Malfoy once telling Draco that it wasn’t smart for him to be setting himself against me since public opinion was on my side--at the time, anyway. But Draco’s been pretty much a prat to me from day one.”
That had been a curious statement. While it was the sort of underhanded tactic Lucius would employ, he couldn’t imagine him saying it anyplace where Harry would have been within earshot. “Where did you hear that?”
Harry had looked shifty then. Gryffindors were so easy to read; he really would have to school Harry to hide his emotions better. “Um, a little accident I had with a floo. I wound up someplace I shouldn’t have and overheard them talking. They didn’t know I was there.”
Severus had raised an eyebrow. “Truly, you do have a habit of being in places you shouldn’t. If you didn’t make as much noise as Hagrid’s boarhound Fang, you might have made a tolerable spy.”
“And if Draco had played his cards right the way Daddy Malfoy told him to, he might have been the one in this bed instead of you,” Harry had joked.
Jealous rage, unexpected and powerful, had flared within him. Harry had sucked in a startled breath before being flung back to the mattress by a very determined professor. Severus had plundered his lips ruthlessly, thrusting his tongue inside and scraping Harry’s lower lip with his teeth before pulling back.
“Don’t ever say such a thing again, Harry,” he had hissed. “I refuse to lose you to anyone, least of all a Malfoy.”
Glazed desire had been in Harry’s eyes as he’d licked his swollen lip. “Guh. Um, okay.” He had wound his arms around Severus’s neck. “Guess the whole Malfoy thing is still a sore point, huh?”
“You would not be entirely incorrect in such an assessment,” Severus had replied stiffly.
Harry had played with Severus’s hair again, hiding his face against Severus’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I kinda felt the same way,” he had mumbled.
Tilting up the rounded chin, Severus had brushed his thumb against the pouting lower lip. “As I’ve stated, his beauty had begun to cloy. There was nothing behind it, you see…not like there is with you.”
“Good to hear.” The momentary conflict over, Harry had stretched up to kiss him. Severus had allowed it since the teenager had shown a marked improvement in skill. Then he had pushed him away regretfully.
“You really must get going, Harry.”
Harry had pouted but scrambled out of the bed. The sight of all that delectable flesh had done pleasing things to Severus’s body. He had stifled the sensations, making an inward promise that he would play with Harry later when the opportunity arose.
They had parted with a few hurried kisses and whispers. Severus had been the first to depart, first checking to see that the corridor was clear before indicating to Harry that he could leave. It was unlikely there would be any students in the halls at this early hour. But Severus had not survived all these years as a double agent by being foolhardy. Even Peeves hadn’t been in evidence and he had retreated to the dungeons, a very happy and contented professor.
Severus smiled as he thought of that hurried parting and likely blissful re-encounter. Resisting the urge to whistle, he turned the corner and made his way to one of his favorite apothecaries. The proprietor had informed him that they’d gotten in a rare shipment of Romanian tangle weed.
The plant was difficult to work with but he thought it would be worth the effort. Professor Sprout refused to have the tangle weed in the greenhouse. Attempts to work with it in the past had ended in disaster since it had a tendency to fight, not only its human handlers, but any foreign plants as well.
The dried plant, however, was excellent for restoring strength and vigour. That was not surprising given its own hardiness and resilience to inclement weather. He hoped to make an improved version of Pepperup Potion with it, one that hopefully wouldn’t have the drinker shooting telltale steam out of his ears.
It was the barest whisper against the cobblestones and the very furtiveness of it made the hairs on his neck prickle. He had barely drawn his wand and spun around to Disapparate when he was hit with a volley of spells.
The last thought he had before losing consciousness was that he hadn’t told Harry where they would be spending their honeymoon.
__________
Ron eyed Harry’s plate as his fellow Gryffindor tucked away into his breakfast. “Are you alright, mate?”
“Nebber bedder,” Harry mumbled around a slice of toast piled with peach jam. “Whydoyouass?”
“Because that’s your third helping. Even you don’t usually eat so much. What’s gotten into you?”
Harry grinned around the toast, swallowed, belched and reached for his eggs. He really was hungry enough to eat a hippogriff and he couldn’t hide it. Sex really gave you an appetite, especially the kind he’d shared with Severus. The thought made his grin wider and then he hid it by gulping down some pumpkin juice.
Hermione smiled knowingly. “Was it you-know-who?”
Ron went pale, his freckles blotchy spots. “Him? You’ve been having dreams about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named again, mate?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Not him, Ron. You know, Harry’s mysterious friend.”
The redhead blinked. Then the light dawned. “Ohhhh. You mean, him.” He peered more intently at Harry. “She right, mate? You’ve been seeing your, uh, special friend?”
Harry snorted. It was so funny the way Ron said that, all pretend-casual, intense interest and skittish embarrassment combined. “Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it.” Hermione leaned over Harry’s left and whispered, “Harry, you’re positively glowing.”
He choked, a bit of egg going down the wrong way. Ron thumped him on the back until his throat cleared. “G-glowing? Really? Y-you can see that?” He scanned his body fearfully. Was he giving off light or sparks or something?
“I don’t mean literally, Harry. It’s just an expression.”
Ron squinted. “I don’t see anything… ‘cept for the over-eating.”
“Ron, his cheeks are pink, his eyes are brighter than ever and his hair’s really rumpled. Well, more so than usual.”
The redhead tilted his head and squinted. “Um, if you say so.”
“You can practically see the lipstick on his collar.”
“I thought Harry said he was into blokes, Hermione.”
“Again, Ron, just an...”
“I know. I was just winding you up.” Ron grinned, glad at being able to fool her.
Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. Harry smiled, happy that the two of them were speaking to each other again. That boded well for whatever thing he and Hermione were going through. Harry was feeling so happy in love; he wanted his friends to share that feeling as well.
Speaking of love… He glanced at the Head table and frowned. Severus’s dark head was nowhere to be seen. His chair stood empty between McGonagall and Flitwick. Ron followed his gaze.
“Oi, where’s the greasy git? Never known him for missing a breakfast,” the redhead commented.
A twinge of annoyance followed that statement. He didn’t think Severus was so greasy any more. Lately the Slytherin’s hair had been remarkably free of any sticky ointment. He should know; he’d run his hands through it often enough lately.
When he’d questioned Severus about it, the professor had told him the ointments in his hair were meant as a shield against the various fumes in the air from potions brewing. He wasn’t exposed as much these days since Slughorn had become the Potions professor so he’d left off coating his hair. Harry had approved and shown Severus his appreciation very thoroughly.
But Ron was right about Severus’s non-appearance. If he was half as hungry as Harry was right now, the older man would have shown up for breakfast. So where was he?
Suddenly, Harry was hit with a sensation of dizziness. The room swirled violently and he toppled from his seat.
Darkness…a sharp pain in his head…had he hit his head when he fell?
“Oh, look. Our Prince awakes.”
Loud, jeering laughter. Was that…Macnair?
Harry opened bleary eyes. Where had that thought come from? He could see Hermione and Ron peering down worriedly at him. Hermione, saying his name, reaching out…
…grabbing him. He was being hauled to his knees. The darkness lurched sickeningly with the movement but brought no relieving light with it. He could feel hands under both his arms. Automatically his magic reached out for his wand. But it didn’t come to him. Why was it so dark?
“Well, Severus, you’ve been very hard to find lately. How convenient to be sheltered up at Hogwarts. But we knew you’d have to leave the grounds eventually.”
Fear, hot as a heated blade, knifed through him. “Bellatrix,” he hissed.
Harry’s teeth pulled back in a grimace. He wasn’t aware he had spoken until Ron frowned. “Bellatrix? Malfoy’s daft aunt? What about her?” He glanced around. “Hang on a tick. I don’t see Draco. He wouldn’t miss a chance to rag on Harry about one of his fainting fits.”
“I didn’t faint,” Harry snapped.
Severus. He was channeling Severus’s thoughts, hearing what he heard. Harry barely had time to dwell on this shocking event. His eyes fluttered shut and sensation swam back…
His legs wouldn’t support him so he was dragged to his feet, his head lolling back on his shoulders. Multiple Stunning Spells, then, since a single one wouldn’t have left him so weak and disoriented.
He squinted. He still couldn’t see anything and the darkness was too total for them to be in any room. Another spell of some sort? “Why are you doing this, Bellatrix?”
“I think you know, Severus. The Dark Lord hasn’t been pleased that you haven’t answered his summons. He’s curious as to why.”
“I’ve had to stay at Hogwarts. I have vowed to keep an eye on the student. I believe you know what I’m talking about.” His heart pounded in fear but years of schooling his expression meant that he remained calm even in the face of imminent danger.
“He talking about Potter?” asked Macnair.
“Who else would I be talking about?” Severus sneered.
Bellatrix’s voice dripped with scorn. “Yet we catch you walking the streets of Knockturn Alley.”
“My need was pressing and I left early enough so that I might be back at the school in time to resume my watch. However, if I’m detained, my absence will shortly be noticed. That would prove detrimental to all concerned.”
Macnair gave a short bark of laughter. “Noticed by whom? Dumbledore? I don’t think we have to worry about --”
“Shut it, Macnair. You were always a chatterbox, you know that?” Bellatrix hissed.
His eyes narrowed. What were the two of them hiding? Did it have anything to do with Draco’s odd behavior this past school year?
Draco?
There was a flare of shock--and terror. Harry? Is that you? Oh, Merlin, child, you can’t be here!
Just like that, the thoughts were shut off with the abruptness of a turned tap. Try as he might, Harry couldn’t penetrate his bondmate’s thoughts.
He struggled to his feet. The ringing and pain in his head were fading to a dull roar; he could think a little more clearly now.
“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked, worry clear in her brown eyes.
“Was it You-Know-Who?” Ron whispered.
For a wild moment Harry thought he meant Severus. But obviously Ron had no idea what had just happened.
“Do you need to get to the hospital wing?” Hermione asked as she grabbed him under the arm.
“No, no, I’m fine.” He shot a glance towards the Slytherin table. Draco was indeed missing, along with his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Where were they?
His eyes narrowed at a sudden flash of insight. “Ron, Hermione, I have to go.”
“We’ll go with you, mate,” Ron declared.
“No, it’d look suspicious if we all went,” he whispered. “I’m going back to the Tower. You two just go on to class. Tell everyone I went to my bed to have a lie-down if they ask.”
Hermione frowned but nodded uncertainly. “If you’re sure…”
“I am. I’ll let you know all about it later. Right now, I have to get going.” He smiled, hoping to reassure them. He hadn’t told them about Severus and it was too late to go into details now. He could have kicked himself for not confiding in his two best friends but Harry promised himself he’d tell them everything if and when he got the chance.
He hurried to the Tower and quickly gave the password to the Fat Lady. Inside he dug through his trunk and came up with his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map. He tapped the parchment with his wand. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” As the interior diagrams of Hogwarts unfurled, he commanded, “Show me Draco Malfoy.”
A single dot showed. Oddly enough, it was in the girls’s lavatory on the third floor. What was Draco doing there? Just to be certain, he said, “Show me Crabbe and Goyle.”
Two more dots showed, hovering outside the lavatory door. Okay, this was beyond weird. Wasn’t that where Moaning Myrtle hung out? The girls couldn’t stand her; what would the three nastiest boys in the school be doing there?
He didn’t have time to figure it out now. Putting on his Invisibility Cloak, he slid past the picture of the Fat Lady and ran as noiselessly as he could to the lavatory.
Once there, he peered at the door. He didn’t see the familiar fat figures of Malfoy’s thugs. Instead two girls stood there, both looking considerably bored. Where were Crabbe and Goyle?
He looked down at the map. The dots labeled “Crabbe” and “Goyle” were still there where the girls apparently stood.
Wait a minute. This was exactly like in fourth year, when Barty Crouch was impersonating Mad-Eye Moody. Instead of a dot showing Moody’s form when he was rifling through Severus’s quarters, it had shown Crouch instead. These two “girls” were nothing more than Crabbe and Goyle using Polyjuice.
Okay, so that explained the two thugs. Two boys lurking outside the girls’s loo would look pretty bizarre. It still didn’t explain what Draco was doing inside it. If Harry wanted to find out, he needed to get the two away from there.
He could use the Imperius Curse. However, that was an Unforgivable, sure to land him in Azkaban. Yet Severus couldn’t wait. When he’d sent a flicker of thought his bondmate’s way, there had been a wave of pain, this time along his ribs as though he’d been kicked. He didn’t know what they were doing to Severus but he knew time was running out.
A suggestion. He knew enough about Legilimens to do that much. Crabbe and Goyle had always been prey to their big bellies; he’d used that against them. He concentrated on the grinding, awful yearning for food. His meager meals at the Dursleys surged to the forefront of his memories and he thrust them forcefully into the minds of the two watchers.
One of them, a plain-looking blonde, clutched her stomach. “Merlin, how much longer is Draco gonna be?” she complained. “We’re missing breakfast.”
“I know,” moaned the other, a piggy brunette, also grabbing her belly.
Harry pushed forward thoughts of the sumptuous meal he’d just abandoned. Having the taste of breakfast recently on his tongue made it easier to call up the sensations of food.
“They’re probably serving ham,” the blonde said longingly.
“Strange. I’ve got a mad-on for pumpkin juice suddenly,” added the other as she licked her lips.
The blonde looked resentfully at the door. “Sod this. How much longer is Draco gonna be? Don’ know what he’s so worried about. Nobody ever comes in here anyway.”
“C’mon, mate. Let’s just have a quick kip to the Great Hall,” the brunette urged. “He’ll never miss us.”
Her partner needed no further prodding. Breaking into a jog, she and the other “girl” made their way down the corridor where Harry was lurking. He waited until he couldn’t hear their clumsy footsteps any longer.
Then he made his way to the lavatory. Easing the door open, he slid inside.
__________
Draco was leaning his head into his hands. He was weeping softly, the ghost of Moaning Myrtle hovering over his shoulder.
She had one hand placed on his shoulder. Harry shuddered, remembering the time he’d accidentally walked through Nearly Headless Nick. The sensation had been nasty, like being bathed in an icy shower. Draco didn’t seem to notice though. He only kept crying, the hopelessness of the sound filling the loo.
Harry wanted to laugh out loud. Draco was Myrtle’s mysterious weepy boyfriend? Apparently so, judging by the sappy way she was smiling at him.
Myrtle crooned, “Draco, please tell me. Maybe I can help. It helps to share. I know what pain is, you know.”
“You can’t help me. Nobody can.”
Draco sounded so lost and desolate. Harry hadn’t imagined any Slytherin could be that way. But he couldn’t afford to care about Draco now. Severus was in trouble and the pointy-chinned git had the answers.
When teaching Occlumency, Severus had told him to stifle his emotions, how being overcome by feelings allowed Voldemort access to his thoughts. Considering the state Draco was in now, he should have no trouble penetrating his mind. Pointing his wand from under his Cloak, Harry concentrated.
A memory surged up in Draco’s mind--Voldemort standing before him, caressing his left forearm that now bore the Dark Mark.
Aha! Harry had known it. Draco had taken the Mark, just as he’d suspected.
Voldemort’s voice, high, thin and cold, intruded. “Young Draco, you have been inducted into my inner circle. But you must prove yourself.”
Utter stark terror at being this close to this creature churned in Draco’s belly. He fought to keep his voice steady. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Your Dumbledore is beyond my reach. But not beyond yours. Kill him, my child, and you shall sit at my right hand beside your father.”
Narcissa gave a horrified gasp and there were brief murmurs from the gathered Death Eaters. Dumbledore was a formidable opponent. No matter that he was an old man; he was considered one of the two greatest wizards that had ever lived. Even the Dark Lord hadn’t managed to finish him off. And he was entrusting this mission to a mere schoolboy?
Draco was shaken. “K-Kill the headmaster? How, my Lord? How am I to accomplish this?”
Voldemort waved his hand as though the details were of no consequence. “I have been told how skilled and devious you are, young Malfoy. I am sure you will come up with something suitable.” In a lowered voice dripping with menace, he whispered, “Do not fail me, Draco.” He turned from the young man without further comment.
Oh God. This was what Draco had been up to, what had him looking so thin, pale and sickly? Harry had known Voldemort to be a sick bastard. Obviously, he was a cowardly ponce as well, forcing a child to do what he couldn’t.
Draco stiffened. Feeling his mind being probed, he whirled around. “Who’s there?” he yelled, his face still streaked with tears.
He reached for his wand. But Harry was faster. “Accio Wand!” he yelled and Draco’s wand came flying into his hand.
He whipped off the Cloak and found himself facing the terrified Slytherin. The misery fell away to be replaced by the usual sneer. “Give me back my wand, Potty.”
“I don’t think so, ferret. Why don’t we take a little walk to Dumbledore’s office and you can tell him how you’ve been planning to kill him all year?”
What little color he had drained out of Draco’s face. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Scarhead. You’re obviously delusional.”
Myrtle gaped. “Kill the Headmaster? Harry, that’s mad! Draco wouldn’t do that!”
Harry ignored her. “And you’re scared shitless. I saw it in your mind, Draco, and if I could, you know Dumbledore’ll have no trouble.”
“How? He’s not a Legilimens!” Draco spat and then he stopped talking, looking deeply scared.
“Letting on you’ve got something to hide, huh, Malfoy?” Harry smirked. “Now that I’m on to you, you’re not going to succeed, so we can let that go. Right now, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
He stepped closer to Draco. Although he’d always been smaller than the Malfoy brat, the magic arching through him now made him feel like a giant. A wave of energy thrust from him to send Draco flying backwards, pinning him against the lavatory wall.
Myrtle began to shout. “No! Don’t hurt him, Harry! He’s innocent!”
“Let hell, Myrtle. This bastard has been ragging on me and my friends from day one. And now he’s planning to kill Dumbledore.”
“It’s not true, Myrtle! He’s lying!” Draco turned stricken eyes on the girl and Myrtle flew towards him, trying to embrace him with ghostly hands.
“Myrtle, I don’t have time to convince you. Snape is in trouble and Draco here knows something about it.”
The silver eyes narrowed. “Professor Snape? What’s he got to do with this?”
“He’s being tortured by Macnair, you git!” Harry spat.
And his lover was definitely being tortured. Even now Harry could feel phantom stabs of pain, too swift to be cut off entirely, coming at various parts of his body. It only fueled his rage and the magic soared from him in an arc to shatter the lavatory mirror. Draco flinched as shards of glass flew past his face.
Without looking at the still-hovering ghost, Harry said, “Myrtle, I’ve got business to settle up here with Draco. You don’t need to be here for this. Leave and don’t make any mention of what went on in here. Get out. Now.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!” she yelled. “These bathrooms are mine!”
“No, they’re not. They’re just the sorry places you got stuck in after you died. You leave here right now or I’m going to tell Dumbledore you’ve been sneaking into the prefects’s bathroom and spying on people while they’re naked. He might just decide to have you exorcised for that.”
She let out a whimper of fear. “Harry, you wouldn’t!”
“Try me,” he said, his eyes never leaving Draco.
“You nasty, horrid little boy. You meanie! I hate you!”
“I’m counting to three, Myrtle. One, two…”
With a cry of outrage, she turned and dove down the nearest toilet, leaving a huge splash of water behind her.
He stalked to Draco and held the wand under his chin. “Where is he?” he asked softly, green eyes stabbing into silver ones.
Draco tried to block him out but Harry was not to be denied. His magical strength unfurled itself, stabbing deep into the recesses of the Slytherin’s thoughts, allowing no check. He was prepared to rip Draco’s mind apart if necessary to save Severus.
Memory unfolded. Flashes, glimpses…
Bellatrix talking to Draco, telling him Snape hadn’t been to the Dark Lord’s meetings.
Snape confronting Draco, demanding to know what he was up to and telling his student he’d sworn an Unbreakable Vow to help him. In spite of this, Draco refused Severus’s help. His aunt’s suspicions of Severus’s absences had made him wary of trusting his former Potions master.
Harry frowned. Unbreakable Vow? What was that? There was no time to ask because the images were coming faster.
Draco managing to put a magical trace on Severus, one that would allow his enemies to find him.
Lucius Malfoy, handing Draco a swath of silvery, glimmering fabric that looked very familiar…
Finally, Harry found what he was looking for and smiled coldly.
Draco stared at him in mingled horror and fear. “How did you do that? Even Professor Snape can’t break into my mind!”
“Yes, Bellatrix has taught you well, Draco,” Harry replied with a grim smile. “But I’ve got an advantage you don’t and that makes me stronger than Snape.”
The fear disappeared as Draco relaxed. He sneered and Harry was baffled at his sudden ease. “If you’ve seen into my mind, you know Snape has sworn to help me with an Unbreakable Vow.”
“Yeah, I saw that. So what?”
The sneer intensified. “You really are an ignorant git, you know that, Potty? Guess that’s what living with Muggles will do for you.”
Harry stepped back. “I don’t care about your opinion, slugface.” He lifted his wand. “Obliv--”
“Wait!” Draco yelled, struggling against his invisible bonds. “You don’t know what an Unbreakable Vow is!”
“No, and I don’t care.”
“You should. I’ve got a task to perform…”
Harry’s grip on his wand tightened. “Killing Dumbledore.”
“And Snape has sworn to help me, even though he doesn’t know what it is. If I don’t fulfill my task, Snape will have to do it. If he doesn’t, he’ll die.”
Fear lodged in Harry’s stomach. “What?”
Draco nodded. “That’s what an Unbreakable Vow means. It’s a serious thing in the wizarding world, not done lightly. I’ve got to do this--or Snape has to.”
Harry’s mind raced. “You have to do this because Voldemort will kill you.”
“Not just me. He’ll kill my whole family. And if I don’t and Snape refuses to follow through, then he’s dead, too. You can’t stop this, Potty.”
Shit. Caught between a rock and a hard place. If he stopped Draco, his lover was in danger. If he didn’t, Dumbledore would die.
Draco of course was in trouble whether he failed or succeeded, since either Voldemort’s punishment or Azkaban awaited him. Harry honestly didn’t care about the Malfoy git. But Draco never asked for this gig. Hate him though he might, Harry admitted Draco didn’t deserve his fate at the hands of the Dark Lord or the Wizengamot.
He would figure out a way to fix all this. He wasn’t sure what plan to make at this moment. But he’d always been better at thinking out things on the fly rather than making extensive plans ahead of time. In the meantime, there was the Slytherin prat to deal with…
He stepped away from Malfoy. Draco had barely drawn a tiny breath of relief when Harry raised his wand again.
“Obliviate!”

TBC
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- 11
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The Way of the Patronus