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Unleashed	By : lordoberon Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 17651 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. I make no money in the writing of this fanfiction.

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UNLEASHED

A Snarry fanfic

by lordoberon

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Ch. 4

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Severus was antsy through his entire day of classes. It had been a couple days since Potter had made his display, demon-possessed, in the Great Hall. Classes had resumed as normal…

Except they hadn’t. Throughout the day Severus had noticed a head or two missing from each of his classes. It didn’t take two wand flicks to figure out why. The display of dark power in the Great Hall by Potter had scared the piss out of many students, and teachers, he wagered. Some of the students had written their parents and had been pulled out of Hogwarts – whether permanently or temporarily, Severus didn’t know.

He couldn’t concentrate, and was snappish. His mind was not on this classes but back in his quarters, where he had left the a handsome brunette sleeping on his couch, drugged the night before so he would sleep for most of the day. He had administered the potion during Potter’s dinner, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the demons perhaps waking at night.

Demons were always more powerful at night time.

It was not that they slept within Potter, no, Severus did not think that. They were in there still, exploring, gaining control, getting hungrier and hungrier. The sucking of energy from the Ravenclaw boy had only been evidence that they were, in some way, hungry.

The question was, why? The demons had Potter to feed on. They were drinking in his previous memories, tasting them like little snacks, keeping just enough mind available so that they could play. Harry remembered everything about his life, but the blackout he had experienced while terrorizing the school was evidence that something was going wrong in his head.

If Severus didn’t fix it, they demons would wipe out Potter’s mind. He knew that demons had little patience. He had diagnosed them before, but his previous patient – victim, really – had not had such a large pack of demons riding him, merely one or two.

That victim had nearly died, and his entire life had remained a dull haze afterward. Severus could not let this happen to Potter. It would not and could not happen, because he would not let it. He would not fail. Failure was a word that haunted him and jeered at him, but he shoved it away and spat at it now. Merlin’s green hose, he could not afford to let it lurk in his mind.

Failure would mean death for Potter…and for Severus.

Because he had promised Dumbledore, he told himself. He couldn’t disappoint the old loony.

After meeting with McGonagall a second time – twice in a week! Only Potter could cause such hassle – Severus returned halfway through dinnertime to check on his charge. Minerva had given him strict rules for the protection of the other students, and she had agreed to give him full authority on the matter of solving Harry Potter’s “sudden illness.”

He found an unpleasant sight at his office door, and immediately turned away. But it was too late, they had already seen him.

“Professor Snape! Professor Snape, please!”

Severus froze as a hand grabbed his arm. He was tempted to yank it away, because he hated things like this, where he was supposed to be sympathetic and comforting. Sympathetic and comforting were just not done by him. He let the sobbing girl stop him in his tracks, though, and glared half-heartedly at the Weasley boy.

“What did you DO to him?!” the boy growled.

“Oh, please.” Severus rolled his eyes. “Me, to him? Nothing. He did it to himself. Now go away. I’ve got work to do.”

“Please…Professor…”

Snape turned to look at the sobbing girl. Granger was a mess. Her face was blotchy and red, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her hair was an absolute rat’s nest.

“Tell us,” she croaked, “Tell us how we can help him.”

Severus wanted to bark out “Leave me alone,” but then he decided to give it a moment’s thought. There was no stronger arsenal at a woman’s disposal besides her tears. And her wand. Too bad that such a smart girl turned into a blithering idiot at the worst of times.

“If you would, Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, collect Potter’s homework from his professors and give me his books. While I am brewing, it would do well to have him occupied, if he feels well enough. We can’t let him fall behind, can we?”

Granger directed something like a smile at him. Weasley huffed and puffed in that irritating way of his. Severus hoped Weasley wouldn’t spread rumors that he, Severus, had cursed Potter. He didn’t need more trouble with the Wizengamot.

To squash any hard feelings that currently coursed through Weasley, Severus decided he had to give him a little something to chew on.

“You should learn to look for evidence before you make an accusation,” he said, turning to the redhead. “I think you’ve learned that one well enough over the years what with various falsities being pointed at Malfoy. If you ever decide to start using the brain in that thick skull of yours, perhaps I may give you visitation rights for Potter. He knows that I didn’t curse him, and we are familiar with his alarming ability to point fingers at me for the slightest trifle.”

He smirked at their bewildered faces, and turned back to trot to his office door. “Good night.”

When he closed the door behind him, Severus leaned back against it with a sigh.

The sad thing was, Potter and Weasley were often right about Draco. What was more, there was no way he was ever going to permit Weasley to visit Potter. That was far too dangerous. Not a single student could get near Potter as long as those demons had hold of him.

What bothered him most, though, was the sign of resentment he might have let creep into his voice. After all, Potter had every right to hate him. Severus had wanted the boy to hate him, so that he would not be tempted to get close to Severus, and make Severus’ work as a double agent more difficult. If he hated the Dark Lord’s sworn enemy, then he could easily turn off any feeling when amidst the Death Eaters. Plus, the boy looked so much like James. So Severus had carved out a path to make the Potter boy hate him. And Severus had done a fine job at it.

If only his initial dislike for Harry Potter had continued…

“Rrgh!” Yanking himself away from the door and his thoughts, Severus swept up the papers on his desk and whirled down the hall to his quarters. He never graded the papers in his rooms as a personal preference, but with his charge there, and assumedly awake by now, he had to.

Just as he was spelling the wards off of the door to his quarters, a loud knock came at his office door. Damn it! Was it Weasley and Granger again? He prayed it wasn’t, for their sake. He would put them in detention, even if they were just caring about Potter. They needed to know their place. That was their trouble; none of the three of them ever knew their place, except perhaps Granger.

Time, circumstance and tact seemed to be beyond most Gryffindors.

Just as Severus turned to go back down the corridor, a hand grabbed his wrist. It scraped against the wound Potter had created there.

There was a split second where Severus knew who it was, but he wasn’t fast enough. Before he could stop him, Potter had yanked his wand out of his hand, shoved him away, and ran down the corridor.

As he passed by, Severus saw that Potter’s eyes were black.

“Devil take him! POTTER!!”

It was no use yelling, though. The person wrenching open the door that led to the rest of the castle was not really Potter.

Severus forced his aching body up to stand, and sped down the corridor. When he reached the door, he saw Ingles, who had come for detention. After dinner, for a week, Severus remembered. Potter was nowhere in sight.

Ingles’ pale face shone out at Severus from down the corridor. He lay, broken and beaten, with a pool of blood around him. At least he was alive. Severus couldn’t tell if Ingles had been drunken from by the demons in Potter. He borrowed the boy’s wand. After Severus sent an alarm to McGonagall and to Madam Pomfrey at the Hospital Wing, he dashed in the direction that Ingles pointed.

Fortunately it was night time and not a lot of students were around because dinner was still finishing. Ingles had arrived early for his appointment, evidently. Trying to assuage Severus’ temper, hmm?

It was difficult to track Potter through the dark corridors of the dungeons. Every little sound made Severus pause and listen closer. Even so, Severus moved as quickly as he could, keeping his eyes peeled, wishing he had his own wand with him. Ingles’ was willow, and it was far too bendy for Severus’ liking.

A cackle rang out above Severus. There! Thank god demons were not subtle. Potter was crawling and leaping up the staircase, up the walls itself, to the second floor. Severus tried to levitate himself up as quick as he could, but the boy disappeared around a corner. He landed on the floor running, chasing after.

More students were up here. Severus hoped not too many. How was he going to get the demons to quiet up within Potter again? After all, it had taken a great lot of effort to do it last time. Damn Potter! Always getting into trouble!! And who had to get him out of it? Severus! More than once!! And Potter was never, ever grateful.

Severus swore as he saw the Seventh Year duck into the girls’ lavatory. He knew what was there. He had a mere minute or two before Potter was gone, lost in the depths of the castle where no one else could go…there to haunt the castle, as had the first monster that had dwelled there…

The tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets was open, and Potter almost down it, when Severus grabbed hold of the boy’s collar. He swore as, with a single wrench, Potter slid down the hole, dragging Severus with him.

His shout echoed alongside Potter’s gleeful cackling as they rushed down the slide, and landed in a ton of rubble. Eagerly the boy foisted himself out of Severus’ grip, and marched in a straight line towards the elaborate door to the Chamber itself.

There was nothing else to be done. Severus rushed forward and leapt upon Potter, and aimed his wand at the back of the boy’s neck. Immediately heat engulfed Potter, and he began to shriek in pain. Grabbing hold of the boy’s hand, Severus wrenched the tortured thing along with him, back to where they had been dropped.

If he kept the demons in check long enough, Potter would return to his senses, and be able to get them back to the rest of the castle. Apparently the demons were very sensitive to heat – note that down. While the spell burned them inside of Potter, Potter’s body remained unharmed. For a while. If this spell was kept up too long, Potter would be affected; his body would burn along with the demons.

Severus’ hand began to sweat and hurt. He reluctantly let Potter’s hand drop. Immediately the boy was on the ground, writhing in pain, shrieking. He screamed in a foreign language, again the deep, deep voice that hissed and curled into Severus’ ears like a dark spell. It made Severus shiver despite himself.

He watched as that young body, wracked by the haunting, slammed against the rocks and became bruised and bloodied. There was no protective spell he could place to help Potter; any other spell, and his concentration on the fire spell would break. He forced himself to watch, because it helped him concentrate to watch his enemy, and a single blink might be all it took for the demons to somehow break the fiery pain they were engulfed in. They seemed to have no tolerance for it, although their screams died down.

Finally, Potter stopped writhing, and simply lay on his belly on the ground, shaking.

If Severus had not had a stomach for things much worse – the Cruciatus, for example, cast by fellow Death Eaters – he would have been sick. He felt a tightening in his throat though, which would not go away, and cursed it. No sentimentality, he reminded himself. Don’t indulge it.

But was it indulging, to look at the boy and feel pity? Sweat ran down his face, and his fingers dug into the wounds that littered his arms and face. His glasses were broken on the ground. He sat up, only to crouch over again, into himself, and he put his head in his hands. Tortured little hisses came from his mouth.

The black eyes kept Severus going. As long as Potter’s eyes were black, he would not move an inch. He barely blinked. Like a statue he sat, simply waiting. Whatever anger he felt, whatever pity, he forced it to burn through his wand and into the spell that he kept fixated on the possessed boy.

When Potter lifted his head, Severus thought, Dare I hope it is over?

He kept still as the boy crawled forward on his knees, and stared down into those awful dark eyes. They were trying to beg him to stop, widening, a hand reaching towards him -

“You won’t get my pity, you foul creatures! Get away!”

He sent a hard kick to the boy’s ribs, and Potter drew back, hissing loudly. But then he came back. His face was utterly empty, his eyes staring. Blood dripped from a wound on his head. Severus shifted his foot, ready to kick again.

Suddenly a slender hand shot out, and drew Severus into Potter’s space. As a set of sharp teeth descended on his neck, Severus protested.

“NOT ON MY WATCH!” He screeched. “NEVER!”

The spell he sent hammering into Potter rocketed that slender form heel over head, to thud with an awful crack against a large rock.

Severus was trembling from head to toe as he stood up. “Stupid,” he murmured, “very stupid. Kill the Boy Who Lived…what would Dumbledore say? Damn…bloody…fool…can’t take care of myself or Potter…”

He sucked in several deep breaths, trying to quell the rising panic. Potter was not getting up. He lay limp against the rock. His face was pale. The fire spell was finished. His eyes were closed.

Severus crept forward, clambered over a rock, and stood over the teenager. He prodded Potter’s chest weakly.

“Potter,” he rasped. “Are you in there…?”

A roar erupted from Potter’s mouth and his arms wrapped around Severus tightly. He leapt up twenty feet into the air, and then with the force of tens of men, flung Severus down to the ground. Severus felt like his body might be broken. Rocks slivered into his skin and his bones, and his breath was hot and fast in his mouth. Before Severus could recover Potter was on him, nails ripping into his flesh, ripping chunks of hair from his head, hissing and shouting a garbled speech all the while. He snapped the wand that Severus lifted up to blast him with, and flung it to the dark.

Then his teeth tore into Severus’ neck. They weren’t really tearing, but it felt like it. Magic trickled out of Severus’ body along with energy and blood. He felt like the demons would take his life force.

Merlin’s teeth! He wouldn’t die like this! The very person he’d saved countless time, become a double agent for, and lived for - he would not die by his hands! He would not give the demon pack the pleasure, or Potter the pain.

Even Potter would care if Severus died, he reasoned, especially if Potter killed him himself.

With no ability to force the leeching demons off of him, and no wand to do anything else with, Severus fought with his mind. He sent a strong Legilimens! into the boy’s mind.

The demons were rushing and running and cavorting in there. They were happy to feast on Severus’ magic, for it would strengthen them and help them to take over Potter’s body and mind quicker. Soon, they would possess him entirely. If allowed, they would cause Potter to forget who he was, forget even his own magic. The demons did not need magic. They would rule Potter’s body, and create violence and chaos. They had little desires besides that. Were a dark wizard like Voldemort to find them though, to control them…the things he could do…

Severus scrabbled in Potter’s mind for an image of himself. What else could he do, wandless, with no force strong enough to fight the demons?

The images inside Potter were too blurred and weak. Some flickered and died, sinking into nothing, even as Severus searched.

Fine. Fine! He would have to do something else…something he had dreaded for a long, long time…

He shut his eyes and with all he could muster, pushed memories up, through the slurping path of the demons’ hunger, into the mind of Harry Potter.

Then he waited, to see if this would change things. The memories were clear and pure. They had things in them which the demons would not understand. Love. Uncertainty. Loyalty. Could they get through, where brutal force had not?

Before he could find out, he fell abruptly into unconsciousness. Or was it death? Well, that would not be so bad, perhaps. He had at least given Potter the memories that he had longed to for ages, which Dumbledore had encouraged him to share.

If he died unloved, at least he had tried to save Harry one more time…

Lily would be glad.
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