Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Breaking Forwards	By : lastcrazyhorn Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 13749 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's fandom. She's makes money off these stories and I do not. Nor will I ever. Harry Potter is all hers. sniffles But the weird twisted shit? Muahahhaa.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter 14 – Past Wrongs
After having travelled to Grimmauld Place that morning, Albus Dumbledore was finally back in the safety of his office. With a sigh, he slumped into the chair behind his desk and put his head in his hands. He was fully disgusted by all that he had seen and heard that day, and it wasn't even dinnertime yet.
Then of course, there was the question of, "What now?"
He knew that Remus had gotten his information and the Veritaserum from Severus. And damn the man, Severus had been right about what Sirius had done. So what else was Severus right about? Could Harry's Uncle really have done the same thing? Could he have been that blind as to have missed something so serious?
Albus ran his hands through his hair once again. He already knew the answer, but worse yet, he was afraid that he had known the answer for some time.
Severus's words from that morning had stayed with him throughout the whole of that awful interrogation, and now in the quiet of his office, he heard them again.
You are a fool, old man. Everything you've worked for since the Dark Lord's downfall is going to become moot when Harry learns of your betrayal.
It had never even crossed his mind that Harry would turn against him. Oh, he had understood that Harry would be angry at him from time to time, especially in some of his more difficult choices, but he had never entertained the idea that such a thing would grow into anything more—anything worse. Of course, now that he understood more of what had happened to Harry, it was easier to make the leaps of logic required to see why the boy had turned out the way he had.
Fawkes trilled mournfully from behind him and he slumped even further in his seat.
"You're right, old boy," he admitted very softly. "Your owner is a wretched creature."
Fawkes trilled indignantly. He hadn't said that!
Dumbledore stood up wearily, feeling very much his age as he walked the short distance over to where his familiar was perched.
"What do you suggest then?" Dumbledore asked as he sadly stroked Fawkes' fine plumage.
Fawkes put his head down thoughtfully and then trilled a long and detailed message straight to the mind of his owner.
Albus's eyes got wider as he listened and before too long, he was looking back at his old friend with a surprised expression.
"Perhaps I ought to listen to you more often," he mused to himself.
Hawkes gave a very pompous sounding trill that made Dumbledore chuckle.
"Well if you feel like that, maybe I'll just retire and let you deal with the idiot politicians!"
Hawkes squawked indignantly and flew to the other side of the office in silent protest.
"Don't worry my boy. I wouldn't even wish that Severus. Although as we both know, he certainly would take care of them."
. . .
Dennis Creevey's hands were sweating as he paced nervously back and forth across the room that they had hidden themselves away in. His brother was on the other side of the room from him, slowly barricading himself away in the corner with various pieces of furniture. Dennis glanced back at that side of the room and shook his head in confusion. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the room hadn't had that much junk when they had initially found it. Somehow, the room had understood Colin's need to hide and had managed to slowly provide him the means with which to do so.
It didn't seem like the room was sentient, but then again, what did he know? To a point, Dennis figured that all things magical were sentient—or maybe it was just the magic that was.
In all actuality, he was right on both counts; magic was sentient to a point—although that point hadn't ever been agreed on by any of the leading magical theory scholars—along with the room itself. In fact, after such an extended stay within its walls, the Room of Requirement had decided that it quite liked its occupants and was finding it easier and easier to bend to their wishes—voiced and otherwise.
From the Room's point-of-view, the two boys were quite cute in their own individual ways, and It had rather enjoyed watching them cohabitate within Its space.
On the other hand (ignoring the fact that rooms typically don't have hands), It also was aware of the many searches that the professors and staff had made of the castle looking for the two boys in question. While the castle herself was under the jurisdiction of the headmaster, the Room of Requirement, being an unusual sub-facet within the overall hierarchy that existed amongst the stationary structures, managed to slip through that control, and for all intents and purposes, was an independent being (more or less). To put it more concisely, as long as the two boys stayed within the Room of Requirement, they could not be located by the headmaster, let alone any others, with only one exception: Harry Potter.
With that one loophole firmly in place, the Room set to watching and listening to the machinations of Dennis's mind with great care and interest. There was nothing that frustrated It more than being shown a need and not being able to supply a response.
Dennis was aware of some of the limitations of the room; the most important being that it apparently could not bring living creatures into its space. Unfortunately for Dennis, given his muggle background and general magical isolation, was not yet aware of floos—although that certainly would have allowed them to deliver a message, if not transport them directly. However, even if he had known about floos and their uses, it would have merely created an entirely new set of problems to be dealt with. For one, because of the sensitive matter contained within the message, they wouldn't have been able to send it to just anyone. Anywhere that Ron Weasley had access to would have been ruled out immediately, and the same went for any of the teachers.
So flooing was out, regardless of Dennis's lack of foreknowledge.
What they needed was damningly simple; they needed Harry to come and find them. Short of actually leaving the room itself, that was the only way that they could end their isolation.
Dennis considered the methods of communication within the wizarding world, but couldn't come up with anything that didn't involve owls. He thought it likely that there was some form of wizarding ESP available out there, but he didn't have any way of finding out from where he was. Colin would likely know, but his brother had been more and more taciturn the longer they had stayed in the room, and he was hesitant about trying to get him to talk if it wasn't necessary.
His thoughts on his brother now, he worriedly glanced over to the corner of the room where Colin had hidden himself away. He had been worried enough when his Colin had turned his bed on the side and started sleeping hidden away from him, but was only a mild beginning to the path his seclusion had ultimately taken. Following the sideways bed, his brother had furthered his barricade by putting a fence of upended tables around his space, the sides of the tables creating an uneven wooden wall that faced outwards towards the rest of the room. Dennis had watched Colin meticulously stick each table together using a sticking charm, before doing the same thing with wooden doors laid topside across the legs of each. Following that, Colin had then repeated the process all over again, adding another row behind the first, and then sticking them together as well. Now, he was using that as a base to build atop, using tables again, making it sturdier and stronger as he went. Somehow in that time, the room had swelled up, allowing him the space within to work, but without making either feel claustrophobic.
Dennis sat down on the floor away from Colin's massive creation and hugged his knees tightly to his chest. To be honest, his brother had begun scaring him, and he was afraid that things would get worse before much longer. Colin still wouldn't talk to him about what happened, but he had a few guesses, none of which made him feel much better about any of it.
. . .
Rita Skeeter, despite what many believed, was actually quite intelligent. Some of her readers would have surprised to learn that in her Hogwarts days, she had been much the quiet, solitary bookworm; rather like what Hermione Granger might have turned into if not for the influence of Potter and Weasley.
She could not understand why other people—usually loud and obnoxious people—assumed that not talking was the same as not listening.
In school, she had used her intelligence gathering skills for her own use, but as an adult, she had taken them quite a bit further. And truth be told, she enjoyed cutting those around her down a bit.
Personally, she had no problem with Harry Potter, but professionally, she tended to see money signs when she looked at him, and as a result tried to take her stories about him as far to the edge as she could.
There weren't many people who were willing to get in her way about it either, but later in the morning after her debut of the scandalous Mr. Potter being resorted into Slytherin, she found herself staring down her editor and longtime colleague—if not friend—Charles Rozalsky.
Although he was noticeably older than when she had first started working with him, there wasn't much about Charles that had slowed down or lessened with age. His eyes were every bit as piercing and critical as they had been fifteen years ago, and although she would never tell a soul, she still managed to find herself intimidated by him.
"Retract the story? Are you mad?" She was currently screeching at him.
"We've been offered a deal by Dumbledore himself," Rozalsky's eyes burned into hers with a hard strength quite unlike Dumbledore's own damnable twinkle.
"A deal?" She stood up, her sharp fingernails clicking impatiently against her hips.
"Black," he stated pointedly, leaning over her desk with a menacing air.
"For Potter," she stated, trying to sound unenthusiastic.
"Don't try to look at me and tell me that you don't give a damn. I know you Rita," Rozalsky said in an accusing voice.
"And what do you know?" She asked, turning her back on him purposely.
"Severus Snape isn't the only one with secrets about how Black and Potter treated him during their school days," was his damning answer.
She whirled back around, her eyes sparking with anger, even if the rest of her demeanor was calm.
"You know, some men retire when they begin going a bit barmy upstairs," she said with a vindictive bite to her words.
"Black has been caught. Want to insult me some more? Or do you want to be the sole reporter to interview him before he's Kissed?"
The possibilities whirled through her mind quickly at his words. Rita Skeeter, an exclusive with the only man ever to escape Azkaban. She had to hand it to Charles for making his offer as tempting as possible. So what if she retracted her story on Potter? The readers had already seen it, had already made up their minds. The corner of her lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. Potter would be around for a while longer; Black would not be.
What did she have to lose, really?
. . .
Harry moaned aloud as he thrashed in his bed in Severus's quarters. After class, his potions master had carried him back to his—to their—quarters, and after supplying him with more pain relieving potions, had left him to sleep the migraine off. At first, Harry's sleep had been untroubled and calm, but as the pain had lessened, the dreams had begun and now he was fully in the throes of a nightmare.
His uncle was chasing him through Grimmauld place. In his bed, he rolled over on his side with a whimper and curled up into a fetal position. So many stairs, he couldn't remember there being so many stairs there in the Black ancestral home, but now there were and he could feel a stitch starting in his side from his efforts to get away from the angry muggle who by all rights should have fallen behind ages ago.
Ahead he saw a door and he raced towards it, not thinking about whose door it was, but just that he had to get away from what was behind him. Hurtling through the door, he slammed it and it magically locked behind him. He only had enough time to catch two, maybe three breaths, before noticing that he wasn't alone in the room. Sirius was sitting on the side of the bed, dressed only in a ragged pair of boxers. He was looking at Harry as though all of his Christmases had happened at once and Harry swallowed against the bile that mysteriously had begun rising in his throat at the implications behind the thought.
His hand fell on the doorknob just as Sirius began walking towards him, but it wouldn't turn. Distantly he could hear the slobbering breaths of his uncle panting harshly on the other side of the door, just waiting for him to come back out and . . . play.
"No, no!" He cried out in his sleep, not even waking as a crack of light spilled across his bed from the door that was opening slowly across from him.
He looked up in the dream once more and realized with a sick start that Sirius was no longer on the bed, but instead was standing right beside him, his hand reaching for him.
"I don't want to," he whimpered, still asleep; pulling away from where Severus had carefully sat down on the edge of the bed.
Harry was frozen in place against the door, his hand not quite clenching the knob as Sirius hooked his thumbs in his ragged boxers and slowly pulled them down. He wouldn't, he couldn't look down. He didn't want to see, didn't want to know what was about to happen, didn't want to know what Sirius was about to do. In his bed he whimpered again, causing the look in Severus's eyes to sadden just that much more.
The dream shifted and abruptly he was in Sirius's bed, completely naked with Sirius atop him, writhing against his body. No wait, he was wrong. Sirius wasn't writhing, but rather it was his cock that was. Harry finally looked down, only to see that in the place of his godfather's cock, there was now a long green snake, moving back and forth over his own groin. His eyes bugged out at the thought of that entire thing going inside him and he once more tried to get away. Sirius's body was too heavy, he was too small and he screamed a bloodcurdling cry as the snake pushed its way inside him.
Harry's eyes flew open with a start and he threw himself upwards against the headboard, his arms trembling as they wrapped themselves around skinny legs and knobby knees. He couldn't get the sensation of the hissing feel out of his body. He could feel it traveling through him and he shuddered, tears dropping down over his cheeks.
Just when he thought he could take no more, warm hands made themselves known on his shoulders and he stiffened as they drew him in to rest against an equally warm body.
"Severus?" He asked, hating the way his voice shook as he voiced his question.
"Yes," the man's voice was low and it rumbled against him, allowing him to melt into Severus's protective side with a relief filled sigh.
Not quite daring to grasp at the man with his hands, Harry contented himself with the encompassing way Severus's arm was holding him. Even so, he was still shuddering and tears were still leaking out of his eyes as he tried to wake up fully from the horrid nightmare.
Above him, he heard a muttered lumos, and soon the bed was lit with a soft glow just right for the early morning.
"Did I wake you?" He hiccupped, hating his obvious weakness.
"Does it matter?" A large calloused hand came up to lightly brush the hair out of his eyes and he choked against the sudden rush of emotions he felt through his body at such a simple motion.
He tried to answer, but couldn't, so he nodded swiftly instead, feeling the other man's head against the top of his own as he did.
"Why?" The question was whispered softly above him.
"I don't—I don't want to bother you," he answered thickly.
"Child," he could hear the smirk in the man's voice, "you have annoyed me throughout the years with your pranks and after hour wanderings. Trust me, in comparison with that, this is very little bother.
Harry tried to smile through his tears as he nodded his understanding.
"Come, I think it's time for some tea," Severus told him in a voice that allowed for no argument.
. . .
Severus looked at the small teen sitting next to him in the living area of his quarters. The boy looked miserable, his face white from the nightmare and his fingers shaking every time he reached for his mug of hot tea.
"I'm sorry for being so pathetic," the boy had the gall to say in the silence that rested between them.
"Pathetic?" Severus quirked an eyebrow at him curiously, knowing all too well what the boy meant by that.
"You know," Harry said in a near whisper, his shoulders slumping in a little more, "Worthless. Wretched. Disgusting. The usual."
"The usual," Severus stated in a non-believing voice.
"I've tried telling myself that I don't care about all of that," the boy's voice hitched for a moment, "but it's getting harder to do."
Severus listened and waited carefully for the child to get to his point. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be too much longer.
"And why is that?" He finally prompted when Harry didn't continue on.
"It's hard to go back to not giving a damn when someone like you seems to think I matter."
Severus waited.
"You're just so on top of things," Harry was hugging himself tightly again and it was all the older man could do not to touch him. "There are so many things that you don't give a damn about, but that's okay because it's you. So when something does matter to you, then it means it matters a lot. And for some reason, I seem to matter to you." The teen shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "But I can't matter a lot, because if I do, then it means that all of me is important, including my problems. And if my problems are important, then I can't just ignore that, because you aren't."
"Explain to me why it is important not to care," Severus asked in a calm voice.
"Because it hurts too much to care. I don't want to hope for anything else, since once you figure out how awful I am, you'll never want to be near me again."
"And in what way are you 'awful'?"
"I'm dirty. I'm stupid. I'm worthless. I told you," the boy hitched another breath. "You're none of that and I'm all of that, and once you figure out how much of that I am, you'll see that it's no good to care about me, 'cause there's nothing you can do about that. No one wants me and you shouldn't waste your time thinking that I matter enough to make someone want me," Harry finished, turning his head the other direction from where Severus was still seated.
Making a decision, Severus pulled the unresisting boy down sideways and placed his scruffy head in his lap as one would do with a much younger child.
"That's right, Mr. Evans, feet up on the couch, thank you very much," he instructed in a commanding tone, even as he started running his fingers through the lad's messy locks.
"So you think you are not worthy enough to be wanted, is that what I am hearing?"
He got a shaky nod from his lap and felt the wet heat of tears begin to soak through his pajama pants.
"And you think that anyone who would dare think you mattered would be wasting their time on that pursuit, yes?" He did not wait for the nod this time, but continued on. "As the definition of pathetic states, it is something that engenders pity within other people. Listen to me Harry when I tell you that I do not pity you. I do not envy you either. Conversely, as time goes on, I am finding myself admiring you more and more as I discover just how stout your constitution is. Yes, you heard right. I admire you, you silly boy."
The teen draped partially across his lap only shuddered.
"You do not get to tell me what or whom I find important. Do you understand me?"
Another shaky nod atop his thigh signaled the boy's confirmation.
"You are very important to me, little brat, and I will be angered greatly if something happens to you."
"Even the Dark Lord?" The question was muffled from Harry turning his face into Severus's knee, but his inquiry is still understandable.
"Especially if the Dark Lord happens to you. Given the choice between the two of you, you win hands down," Severus leaned over, trying to catch the lad's tear filled eyes. "No contest."
"What about Draco? He's very important to you."
"He is," Severus admitted softly, still stroking the boy's hair lightly. "But he is not more important than you, just as you are not more important than him. You are equally important to me."
The boy was shaking his head no, as though trying to nonverbally dissuade him from his outrageous belief.
"Harry," Severus said in a voice that caught the boy's attention immediately, stilling his head shaking as well. "You are not dirty. You are not worthless. You are not stupid," he intoned, staring straight into the teen's eyes with each proclamation.
"You don't know, you don't know," the lad was whispering in near shock.
"I do know, Harry. And eventually, you'll know too," he stated sadly, leaning back against the soft cushion behind him.
. . .
Dennis couldn't sleep. The problem of communicating with Harry had taken over his consciousness, leaving him wired and if truth be told, a bit anxious. Lying in his bed with the covers pulled up tight around him wasn't helping, so with a sigh, he slipped out of bed and found the slippers that the room had conjured for him.
Colin hadn't spoken to him in more than twenty-four hours. He could still hear him moving around behind his barricade though, so he wasn't too worried about him yet.
Much, was his additional thought.
Ignoring the problem of his brother for the moment, he asked the room for a cup of tea and then moved over to an armchair to sit and think.
What they needed was an owl, but since an owl was living, they couldn't summon one. If they were farther along in their studies, then perhaps they could conjure one, but they weren't, so it was a moot point. Everyone in Gryffindor knew which owl was Harry's, and most of them understood how smart and devoted she was. If he could get her to come to the room, then it wouldn't matter where Harry was, because she would be able to find him no matter what.
He could probably get the room to summon her perch for him, but would that lead the owl there? He doubted it.
What if he asked the room for one of her feathers? If a feather suddenly disappeared from her coat in a magical burst of energy, wouldn't she be curious as to where it had gone?
Dennis shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He didn't know. It'd be a long shot to try out, but if he didn't have any better ideas soon, he might go ahead and try.
Finishing his tea, he put it down on the table that had appeared beside him and stood up with a tired grimace. He wasn't getting anywhere in his plans. He ought to just go back to sleep. He started heading that way, but instead of stopping and getting in his bed, he continued on past it. Colin's structure was looming in front of him and he couldn't help but be a bit curious by it. The creation was like some kind of large wooden castle and he admired his brother for his imaginative skills.
Peering a bit closer, Dennis realized rather belatedly that there was door in the middle of the quasi-building, and when he got closer, he realized that it was cracked open just a touch.
Had Colin meant to leave that open?
He stepped closer and hesitantly pushed against the opening. It swung open easily enough.
Almost like opening a door to another realm, was Dennis's excited thought as he stepped forwards through. It was dark inside, but not completely, and his thoughts of tiredness quickly flew from his mind as he investigated the space around him.
"Col'?" He asked the semi-darkness around him.
No answer.
The structure around him was very sturdy and seemed to extend farther than he had thought possible from the outside.
Must be the room again, was his logical thought.
Because of the table legs above and below him, he had to be careful where he put his feet and head as he walked. But since he was still so small, even now as a second year, he didn't have to worry about ducking his head as he moved through the enclosure. Remembering that his wand was still in his pocket, he pulled it out and cast lumos in hopes that he could see his brother.
Still nothing. Frowning, he moved forwards a little quicker, the table legs reminding him a bit of the rafters that were present in their attic at home. Holding his wand over his head, he peered forwards and nearly wet himself when he realized that Colin was standing not two feet from him, eyes glinting in the wandlight.
"Col'?" He squeaked, shakily. "Are you okay? Geez, you scared me!" He admonished.
"Sure Dennis, no problem." His brother answered, moving closer to him.
He didn't know why, but suddenly he felt like taking a step backwards. Something about his brother was scaring him.
"You sure? You haven't been out in a while."
"Been busy," his brother smiled at him and he couldn't quite smile back. "I've finally figured out how to keep us safe."
"Yeah?" He whispered, trying to inch backwards without being noticed.
"Yeah," Colin answered with another resolute looking smile. He stepped close enough to Dennis to attach a clammy hand to his arm and then pulled him forwards. Dennis stumbled at the sudden motion but even with the threat of pulling them both down, Colin didn't release his arm.
"Colin, you're hurting my arm," Dennis panted out fearfully.
"Sorry," Colin answered, not easing his grip.
"Where are we going?" He asked as Colin pulled him through the maze of objects. They passed a tall gate made out of nothing but chairs that they got through by crawling under; Colin crawling while dragging Dennis behind him easily.
Beyond that was a room full of pipes of varying sizes, open holes facing them like some kind of gargantuan beehive. Several were large enough to crawl through and after seemingly picking one at random, they climbed up and Colin pushed him through it, following a moment later.
Dennis slid downhill in the dark tube for less than ten seconds, but it felt like much more. Finally it dumped him on a soft floor on the other side, Colin landing beside him mere seconds later.
"Light," Colin said in a near growl from beside him and he hurriedly tried to get his wand back out of his pocket where he had stored it for safe keeping before.
He needn't have bothered. The room lit itself around them after his brother's terse command and he looked around it carefully as he tried to readjust his eyes. They had landed on what was likely Colin's mattress in a fairly nondescript room. There was only one armchair aside from the mattress and the rest of the room was empty. He saw a toilet and a shower in one corner of the room, sans curtain. Other than that, there were no doors, bookcases or anything else around them other than smooth walls and the wall of holes that they had come from.
Dennis whirled around and tried to remember which hole they had come from. He was fairly positive he knew which one it was, but he wasn't completely sure.
"Col'? How do we get out of here?" He asked, getting off the mattress that his brother was still laid out upon.
"We?" Colin turned and looked at him with a haunted look in his eyes. "We don't. We are staying here. We're safe here. I promise that I'll show you that there's nothing out there that you need."
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