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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
- 17
- 18
- 19
Chapter 18 – Safety Concerns
Harry closed the door to his room behind him with a trembling hand.
"Harry!" Dennis's shrill voice interrupted his thinking.
"Dennis? Are you okay?"
"Why didn't you say yes, Harry! You shoulda said yes! Why didn't you?" Dennis had latched his much smaller hands around Harry's arm and insistently was pulling him over the bed.
"It's a pretty big decision Dennis," Harry started out slowly, now seated next to the smaller boy on the side of his bed.
"But I thought that you said Snape liked you now!"
"He does—at least I think he does," Harry answered; his eyes on the floor as his brain fought to catch up with the situation.
"Then what's the problem?" Dennis implored, not understanding his friend's hesitancy.
"Well, he'll be in charge of everything about my life, right?" He didn't wait on an answer from the smaller boy, but continued on in a rush. "Like discipline! He'll be in charge of discipline! What if he hurts me? What if he does something that I can't live with? He's not exactly the easiest person to talk to!"
"Harry, Snape saved you back when he hated you!" Dennis said, hopping off the bed and scowling at the older boy. "If he didn't hurt you when he didn't like you, why would he hurt you when he did?"
Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again as the second year's words sunk in.
"I dunno," he answered shyly, rubbing his feet together nervously, his eyes still on the floor.
"And I don't know him as well as you do, but he seems to listen pretty well to you whenever you say anything to him. He even stops and looks up," Dennis added helpfully, crouching down at Harry's feet in an attempt to try and catch his gaze. "My dad doesn't even do that," he added wistfully.
For whatever reason, Dennis's comment about his own father caught Harry's attention.
"What's your dad like Dennis? You never talk about him much," Harry prompted, finally looking at the other boy.
Dennis sat down on the ground with his arms around his knees and peered up at him with an unhappy expression.
"He doesn't talk a whole lot. I mean, he does about his job—he's a milkman, remember? But he doesn't seem to listen a whole lot when me and—and Col' tell him stuff." Dennis's voice had dropped into a whisper at the mention of his wayward brother. "I mean, he takes really good care of us and all, and he's never forgotten to pick us up or anything, but," the smaller boy looked away and stared intently at the wall for a few moments. "Col' said he's just being sad."
"About what?"
"Mum left us just after I turned one, when Col' was three, and dad's had to raise us by himself since then. Colin thinks that dad misses mum something awful, and sometimes I wonder," the small boy trailed off.
"What do you wonder?" Harry prompted, peering interestedly at the other boy. He had never heard either boy discuss their mother, and he didn't know anyone else who had either.
"Maybe if he didn't have to take care of us, maybe he woulda gone after her. Maybe if we hadn't been born, she never would have left in the first place."
"Oh Dennis," Harry said sadly, sliding off the bed to put an arm around him. "You don't know that," he added, not knowing enough of the story to say much more.
"Yeah," the boy said softly, scrubbing an arm across his eyes quickly. "I don't." He turned and looked back at Harry before continuing. "But I do know one thing."
"What?"
"Snape wouldn't leave you," the small boy said fiercely. "Even if he was angry at you, he wouldn't leave you."
. . .
Someone was knocking at his door. Rodney Weasley checked to make sure he had his wand on him before answering the door.
"Percy! What a pleasant surprise!" He said brightly, waving the young adult into his house with an overly large smile.
"Uncle Rodney," Percy returned his greeting with a formal nod as he stepped forwards into his living room.
It wasn't until the door was shut behind him that Rodney gave him a true welcome. Pushing the red haired young man into the wall with his body, Rodney grasped Percy's head and savagely kissed his tauntingly red lips, slipping his tongue in as Percy tried to catch a short breath.
"My, you certainly have grown," Rodney said appreciatively when he finally released his nephew's mouth. "You should visit more often," he added suggestively with a grin.
"I'm a very busy man, Uncle," Percy countered, trying to look angry but failing with the hurt little boy look that was coming through his eyes.
"A man eh? Got any pretty young lasses you'd like to introduce me to?"
"None you'd be interested in. My girlfriend is an adult and very outspoken," was Percy's cool response.
"Oh? And what of my precious niece?" Rodney asked with an ugly leer.
He was pleased to see his nephew's face pale dramatically at his words. I haven't lost my touch!
"W-What of her?" The boy stammered slightly.
"I've heard some interesting rumors there, Percy boy," he smiled, putting an arm around the lad's shoulders and pulling him over to sit on the sofa.
"From whom?" Percy's eyes were calculating as his color came back to his face.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Percy," Rodney answered, laughing good naturedly as he leaned in and kissed the young man's bright pink cheek. "You and me are going to go and visit Hogwarts today—get a chance to see the children. Don't you just bet little Ronnie is missing me by now?"
Percy snorted in response, shifting his body ever so slightly away from him.
"Isn't that why you agreed to see me today? Get a chance to see them?" Rodney gave him a knowing wink.
"My business there is purely professional," Percy said with a sneer, getting to his feet and heading back towards the door.
"Of course it is. Just like mine is. Oh, and Percy?"
His nephew turned and gave him a wary look.
"Stupefy," he calmly cast on the boy, watching him fall to the floor with a smile far darker than any of the rest he had given that morning.
. . .
"Ah thank you for being so prompt Ms. Weasley," Poppy said, ushering Ginny into her office. She had sent her a note requesting her presence after breakfast, and thankfully the young fourth year had complied immediately.
"Of course ma'am," Ginny answered, bowing her head slightly.
Poppy instructed her to take a seat and offered her tea, watching the girl's movements and behaviors while she did so. Severus had all but told her that Ginny had been mistreated the same as Ms. Granger and Mr. Creevey, and she wanted to see for herself just how much truth there was to that supposition.
"As you are likely already aware, Ms. Granger has been moved to the infirmary until her the concerns about her safety have been put to rest."
Poppy wasn't surprised to see Ginny nod in understanding at her information. The only ones at the Hogwarts that didn't know everything that was happening in the school were a few of the less popular teachers and staff members; Hagrid and Filch came to mind immediately, but she was sure there were a few others. Trelawney, she thought with a quiet sniff of disdain.
Nevertheless, secrets of this caliber didn't stand a chance against the rabid gossipmongers that existed within the ranks of their students. If only said gossips would help them find the perpetrator or perpetrators of these crimes!
"What concerns me now though is Ms. Granger's relative lack of visitors," Poppy stated, looking over her glasses at the young girl sitting nervously in front of her. Yes, Severus was right. The child looks exhausted and her nails have been bitten down to the quick!
"Ma'am?" Ginny glanced questioningly up at her.
"I hope I'm not imposing on you dear," Poppy smiled benignly at her, sharp eyes carefully taking in the girl's rumpled dress and mismatched socks. "But could you possibly make some time in your schedule to visit Ms. Granger? I know that the two of you have gotten along well in the past, and really I think you might be just what the poor girl needs."
"Oh!" Ginny looked up at her suggestion with a look of dawning comprehension splashed across her face. "Do you really think that I would be a good option for her?"
"My dear," Poppy said encouragingly, "I can think of none better."
. . .
Ginny found herself timidly knocking on Hermione Granger's door less than twenty minutes later.
"Who's there?" She heard the muffled sound of the slightly older girl's voice through the door.
"It's me." She realized how idiotic that sounded, so she added, "Ginny. It's me, Ginny Weasley."
There was no immediate response, and then suddenly the door opened just a crack and she saw half of Hermione's face looking out at her somberly.
"Who sent you?" Was the wary question she heard.
"Poppy."
Immediately, the door sprung open, almost as though the matron's name was a password of some kind.
"Come on in," was Hermione's slightly apathetic sounding answer.
She did just that, moving into the girl's private room slowly, not really surprised to hear the door shut behind her moments later. What did surprise her though was the relatively low number of books present throughout the room. In fact, as Ginny's keen eyes further took in her settings, she slowly came to realize that the only books there were the standard grade five spell books.
"How have you been?" Ginny felt like a dunce for asking such an idiotic question.
A shrug was Hermione's only response.
"Yeah, me too," Ginny whispered, her eyes on the ground. This was clearly a bad idea. What had made Poppy think that her visiting Hermione could possibly be a good idea?
. . .
Percy woke up with a groan. He felt wrecked, like he'd just been in a high speed broom accident with an out of control bludger. He opened his eyes slowly, the world unusually blurry around his head.
Wait, why am I in Uncle Rodney's room? His thoughts were muddled for a moment as his brain fought to catch up with the realization. Abruptly it hit him and he tried to sit up, only to fall back in a drug addled heap.
"Poor little Percy," he heard his uncle say somewhere nearby.
"Why are you doing this?" He groaned out angrily. He'd done his time. His school was paid for. Rodney wasn't allowed to do this anymore. Not to him.
"What did I teach you about discretion, Percy?" Distantly he felt Rodney moving around in the room.
"Never get caught," Percy repeated dully, his head aching too much to open his eyes again.
"And what did you do? You were careless! You let little Ronnie see you with her." The man's voice was closer and he instinctively tried to move backwards away from it. "You know what that means?"
Percy kept his mouth shut. Unless he was very much mistaken, Rodney was standing less than an arm's length from his left side. Carefully he ran his hands over his pockets, only to curse in his mind as they each came up empty. Where the fuck is my wand?
"Damage control," Rodney hissed, leaning in close enough for Percy to feel his breath on his cheek. It made him want to shiver in revulsion, but he daren't. Not now.
"You should have obliviated them both when you had the chance," Rodney's hand was now on his cheek, burning hot in comparison with his cold clammy skin. "Didn't I ever teach you anything?" The hand pinched his cheek—hard enough to cause him to yelp aloud.
"Fuck or be fucked! Isn't that right?" Percy screamed back suddenly, drunkenly throwing his uncoordinated body at his uncle in his fury.
Rodney caught him easily, throwing him face down on the bed and pulling his hands up over his head with one meaty fist.
"Guess I was mistaken for thinking you were smarter than the average Weasley," the bastard hissed his ear, striking him to the core with his harsh words.
"I am!" Percy retorted with a yell.
Rodney's only response was to put his unoccupied hand on the back of Percy's slacks and begin pulling them down.
"No! I don't have to do this anymore!" Percy yelled out in a strangled voice, bucking up as hard as he could against his uncle's much stronger presence.
"Apparently you do," Rodney whispered viciously as he settled his weight more fully on top of his still writhing body.
What happened next was both horrible and familiar, and as always, reduced Percy to screams after only a few moments.
. . .
Dennis snuck out of Harry's room after nearly an hour of discussion, a determined look on his young face as he sought to find a way to make Harry understand exactly why Snape was such a good fit for him.
Luckily for him, Snape was still in the sitting room, and it was with a Gryffindorish burst of courage that allowed him to approach the intimidating man. Snape appeared to be reading some kind of Potions journal, but he didn't seem particularly entranced in it, as evidenced by his comment to Dennis.
"And just where do you think you're going?" The Slytherin head asked without looking up from his text.
"I'm looking for you," was Dennis's brave response as he marched over to the man's chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Really," answered his professor in a very unimpressed way.
"Yeah," Dennis huffed, finally causing the austere man to look up at him.
Had Dennis been Harry, he would have seen the amusement shining out of Snape's face, but since he was not, all he saw was a dark eyed professor glaring back at him after being interrupted from something much more important.
"And why, pray tell, would my presence be necessary for your convoluted plans?"
"'Cause I need you to get Harry's friends for him," Dennis answered quickly, before he lost his nerve. He didn't think he'd ever been this close to the man before, and he wasn't entirely certain that he ever could stand to be so again.
"Why can he not simply get them himself?"
"Because he doesn't know he needs them! Come on sir, he needs to hear from people his own age about what a good dad you'd make!"
Oh hell, I'm going to die.
For a moment, Snape just stared back at him, as though he were a potion gone horribly horribly wrong. Then, he just seemed to snap out of it.
"You believe that do you, Mr. Creevey?"
"Of course!" Dennis squeaked nervously, wringing his hands together as he did. "You listen to him—like you really do care! I can see it in the way you watch him, sir. If anything were to happen to him, you'd be devastated," he added, nodding enthusiastically as he peered up into the unblinking visage before him.
Finally, Snape nodded at him and stood up gracefully.
"I will bring Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini here. I shall need to trust you not to leave my quarters. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir!"
"Good."
. . .
Rodney was much more relaxed when he finally apparated to Hogsmeade. He was content in the knowledge that Percy wasn't going to be doing much for the next twenty-four hours as he healed from the rather brutal lesson that Rodney had been forced to give him. He knew that Percy had planned to visit Hogwarts with him, but he had always preferred to do things on his own, and having another person in his vicinity would have merely distracted him from his goal. It would be hard enough speaking to Ronald under Dumbledore's nose without raising any suspicion. It likely would have been impossible with a pompous twat dogging his every step.
Now really, that was a bit unfair to the boy. He knew that Percy was anything but pompous, that it was almost entirely bravado on his part, but the knowledge didn't help him to find the boy's behavior any less annoying.
Percy had always been far more sensitive than his brothers. In a way, that had been what had helped him gain a foothold in the boy's life. No one listened to the quiet one, no one except Uncle Rodney. Neither of his parents had time for a good, rule abiding child in the face of such wild hellions like Bill, Charlie and the twins.
But Uncle Rodney did have time. Poor Rodney, widowed at the tender age of twenty-three when his dear sweet wife had died in a freak flooing accident. As he told the Prophet, "She always had been a mumbler." Widowed, heartbroken from the death of his best friend/mate and childless, he had been a cheap romance novel in the making. The story was almost enough to make him vomit from the sweetness. On the other hand, the death of his wife hadn't been all tears and sniffles, especially considering the millions of galleons that she had left him in her will. She had been the last of a dwindling family, and he had received the leftovers from that legacy. He hadn't minded that part in the least.
Of course, no one would ever know that his dearest wife had been dead before she had ever left their floo grate. Details really could be a pain when it came to getting the truth. Luckily for him, all anyone had ever been interested in was the story, an entirely separate affair altogether.
Speaking of affairs, now that was an interesting subject as well. Rodney, nearly two years younger than his dearest brother Arthur, had a bit of an unusual talent for Potions. Certainly, some of his family had done well in the subject, but none had ever truly been smitten by it like him. Of course, his family being what it was, he had to be careful not to outshine any of his older brothers, particularly in such a borderline dark field like Potions. So he had bided his time, kept his interests to himself, and when the moment had been right, he had polyjuiced himself and switched places with Arthur for a day. He knew the old boy well enough to pull off being him for twenty-four hours, and no one had been the wiser, not even Molly.
Lo and behold, it hadn't been much of a surprise to him that Molly had given birth to one Percy Weasley just nine months after their fateful coupling. Of course, perhaps his judicious use of ovulating and pregnancy potions had helped, but he certainly wouldn't have classified them as major factors. In fact, he didn't mention very much of his life to anyone. If he'd ever had a friend in whom he felt he could trust, he might have told that person just how much like a black sheep he had felt from the beginning of life, but by this point, he had mastered the art of deception, and it was no longer as obvious to him, let alone anyone else.
Like his relationship to Percy, he had always felt an unusually strong connection with Ronald, and quite possibly for the same reason as well. He hadn't enjoyed taking Arthur's place in the bedroom, but he had enjoyed taking away a piece—however small—of his brother's burgeoning familial kingdom.
It wasn't that women didn't like him; quite the opposite in fact. They had practically fallen over themselves in their pursuit of him after the sudden death of his wife. Rather however, it had more to do with his complete and utter disdain for them. Getting rid of one idiot brained spouse had been problematic enough—after all, some of those poisons were very hard to lay one's hands on without a great deal of time and fuss—but it would have been damn near impossible to purposely rid himself of a second one.
It had just been so ridiculously easy to insert himself into the lives of his favorite two nephews. No one had questioned him for having favorites. His brother and sister-in-law were busy enough with their brood as a whole to spend any time worrying about any potentially unhealthy interest of his in one (or two) of theirs.
Of course, he had been forced to be very careful and very discrete towards his affections in the early days. He could do nothing specific, nothing that would bring Molly and Arthur's attention back to him. It would have been far easier if he could have just obliviated the boys after their visits, but children—despite their innate resiliency—tended to be unusually sensitive to having their memories wiped, and therefore more likely to react negatively. Not only that, but obliviations were far easier to trace in children than in adults. It was like some kind of damned double edged sword, but he had managed to make it work in spite of the challenges he had faced.
. . .
Hermione looked at Ginny with a critical eye of her own. Perhaps she, because she had been so far removed from the other girl for such a long time, was better equipped in seeing the changes that everyone else had long taken for granted.
"How long have you not been sleeping?" She asked abruptly, cutting through the uncomfortable mess that their conversation had turned into in one fell swoop.
"What d-do you mean?" Ginny asked, caught off guard.
"How. Long. Have. You. Not. Been. Sleeping?" Hermione asked again, stepping closer to the red haired girl with every word until they were standing practically nose to nose.
"I just had bad dreams last night. It's no big deal," Ginny answered dismissively.
"Liar," Hermione shot back, but not in a cruel way.
"What did you just call me?" Ginny's face was pink with indignation.
"I said that you are a liar," Hermione's eyes glowed fiercely with some of her previous spark.
"Oh, you so do not want to be going there, Hermione," Ginny warned.
"Yeah, and what'll you do, curse me? Hit me? Trust me when I tell you that I'm not scared of anything you can do."
She had been through far worse indeed, and distantly in her mind, she could hear herself pleading with her unknown assailant to please stop hurting her. Please, it hurts, please!
Unbeknownst to Hermione, she had stopped and frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes open and glazed as she relived some of the horrors committed against her.
Their argument forgotten, Ginny found herself staring open mouthed at the sudden change in the other girl.
"Please!"
Ginny didn't know what kind of nightmare her friend was caught up in, but she knew it wasn't good. Finally getting her head back on straight, she ran for the door and yelled into the hallway for Madam Pomfrey. Rushing back into the room, she made it just in time to catch Hermione's head as she dropped boneless to the floor, sparing her the trials of a concussion in addition to her crippling flashback.
. . .
Harry was pacing mindlessly in his room, trying to give himself a break from all the thinking he had been doing since his conversations with Severus and then Dennis, when he heard a knock on the outside of his door.
"Come in!" Severus never just knocked; usually he said his name too. Besides, why would Severus be visiting him now?
To his great surprise, Draco and Blaise loped into room and headed straight for him.
"Guys?" He asked when they didn't say anything, but instead silently picked him up and carried him into the sitting room, plunking him down on the sofa in front of Severus. They sat down on either side of him, while Dennis appeared out of nowhere and plunked down at his feet.
"What's going on?" He asked shakily, eyes darting from person to person.
"You two need to talk," Draco answered, pointing at him and Severus. "And we're here to make sure that you do."
"And for moral support," Blaise added softly from his other side.
"Talk?" Harry hated the way his voice squeaked when he was under pressure.
"Yes, talk."
"About?"
"Don't be obtuse," Draco chastised. "You're going to talk to Severus about the conditions of your adoption."
"Conditions?"
"Well sure Harry," Blaise said with a smile. "As a Slytherin you should know better than to ever just blindly sign a contract without reading all of the small print, let alone adding a few stipulations of your own in the process. Really, you don't know what you can get if you never ask."
"So Severus," Draco turned back to their head of house. "What will you do to discipline Harry should the need ever arise?"
Harry slowly raised his gaze, catching the eye of his would be guardian as he did.
"You all really think this is a good idea?" He asked before Severus could get out his first word.
"Yes," Draco and Blaise said in unison, giving identical exasperated sighs and causing Dennis to giggle a little at their antics.
"Now shut up and let the man tell you just how much he cares about you," Draco instructed with a stern look.
"Okay," Harry complied with a shy smile at his—well, at Severus.
"Good boy," Blaise quipped with a wide grin.
. . .
Distantly, in another part of the castle, the sludge had continued creeping out and through the various cracks of the foundation, seeking out something only it could sense.
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