Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Opening Salvo	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 4991 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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            “I don’t know how successful we would be at healing the wound in your soul itself. That is soul-magic, and I have no desire to touch it. But we can help you deal with the symptoms, and that, combined with rest and work on your own soul, may gradually close the spirit-wound.”

            “It’s the same program I recommend to my unicorns, really,” Malfoy added to Snape’s words, sprawling backwards in his chair at the breakfast table and looking at Harry with that interest that was so foreign. “Constant rest, a few confrontations now and then with pain or fear—usually when I’m making sure their wounds are clean and they can stand up someone moving suddenly near them without bolting. Of course, you don’t have a cracked horn or a broken leg to wound your spirit, but the principle is the same.”

            Harry let his hand stray along William’s back, and didn’t answer. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to answer. On the one hand, he believed Malfoy and Snape. And he didn’t think they would turn against him. And he admired them for their willingness to help him.

            But he also didn’t think he could do what they were suggesting. He finally opened his mouth and whispered, “I have no idea what it would mean to cooperate with you. I’m not a unicorn. I’m not that innocent.”

            “You also are not as in need of guilt and lashes as you think you are.” Snape’s voice, cool and bracing, like one of the winds blowing around Hogwarts in winter. “With your permission, I will take you into your memories and show you a path out of them.”

            “I—that would work?”

            “It will take more trust than you and I currently have between us. Because we have had bad memories connected to Legilimency, we will need to work past those, until you can welcome my presence in your head. But then, yes, I think I can heal your spirit-wound this way, by showing you other ways that matters might fall out.”

            “I never…” Harry was silent for a second. Only the warm back of the Crup under his hand felt real. And then the way William’s tongue swept down his cheek while he stood on his hind legs and reared up, barking encouragingly.

            “I know it will take time,” said Snape. “And I think you and Draco ought to work on building that trust before you and I try.”

            Harry blinked. “But if we’re supposed to build trust, then how is it going to work if it’s between Malfoy and me?”

            “The same way I can show the unicorns how to trust, and they listen to me, and then they can trust other people when we release them into sanctuaries those people guard,” said Malfoy. He put his cup of some steaming drink that didn’t smell like tea down and moved to sit in front of Harry. “Luna taught me a few tricks, and I learned others on my own. Look into my eyes.”

            Harry did, frowning. He couldn’t help remembering that he’d had bad memories associated with Malfoy, too, although it was true that none of them were associated with Legilimency.

            “None of that,” Malfoy scolded him, reaching out and balancing his hands lightly on Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t think about the past. I have to scold unicorns out of thinking about the humans who hurt them, but you’re human, so we can talk in words. You have to think about other things.”

            “Like what?” Malfoy’s hands were distractingly warm. Harry shifted under them, wanting them off his shoulders, and felt William nudge his hand in disapproval.

            “Think about a time when you were completely relaxed.” Malfoy had somehow altered his voice to sound like the sea. Harry didn’t know how he’d done that, but when he stared at Malfoy, his eyes were calm and serious. He only nodded to Harry, and then said, “When was the last time you felt completely relaxed?”

            “When I slept here,” said Harry unwillingly.

            He thought that might make Malfoy laugh, but he only nodded again as if it didn’t surprise him, and murmured, “Then you should think about that. The way you felt when the spell or the sleep took hold of you. The way you felt when you opened your eyes and your muscles were still relaxed and warm.”

            “It’s hard to remember.”

            “I know. But I want you to try.”

            Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Immediately the memories were there, trying to overwhelm him. This time, it was memories of the time Ripper had chased him up a tree and Aunt Marge and the Dursleys had stood laughing beneath him. He shivered.

            “No,” Malfoy whispered insistently. “Don’t think of that. Remember what I told you to. Open your eyes and look at me.”

            Harry wrenched his eyes open. It was true that he would rather think of falling asleep in Malfoy’s and Snape’s care than the Dursleys, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was going to be at keeping his brain focused. “It’s hard.”

            “I know. But you keep going.”

            Malfoy didn’t sound impatient or frustrated, the way Harry had assumed he would be by now. So he focused on Malfoy and nodded slowly, letting himself seek out the little colors of grey and gold and blue in Malfoy’s eyes, where he would have thought that was silly just a short while ago.

            “Good,” Malfoy breathed. “Now, what’s the greatest source of stress you have?”

            “The memories. The feeling that no one can help me with them. Being alone.”

            “Those are all connected.” Malfoy’s hands eased up and down his shoulders and arms, and Harry relaxed with another sigh, bowing his head, which swayed back and forth. “If you’re not alone, then you don’t need to fear the other things, right? Because there will be someone who can help you face the memories.”

            “I suppose I never really thought about that before. I just thought no one would come and help me if Ron and Hermione were in Australia.”

            “You need to think about others,” Malfoy said, and his voice was a whisper. “Luna came and saved you. Brought you to us. I don’t think you could have gone much longer without us. But here you are. She’s your friend. Can you let us in? Think about us the same way?”

            Harry tilted his head back. Malfoy’s hands came with him and didn’t let him go. It was like—not the same, but like—the way Ron and Hermione would have caught him and insisted on him staying with them.

            It was probably stupid to trust someone because they touched you and whispered sweet things to you, but nevertheless, Harry spoke the words. “I think I can.”

*

            Draco had to smile at the way that relaxation was creeping slowly over Potter, making him hold himself differently and breathe more gently and even catch Draco’s eye in a way that was less frantic than before. Draco had only tried these tactics with unicorns and not humans before, but they’d worked.

            And it was fascinating, how pliant Potter was under his hands now. When Severus reached out and tapped Draco on the shoulder, Draco almost didn’t want to let Potter go.

            “I trust Severus,” Draco did remember to say, when Severus took his place on the chair in front of Potter and he saw Potter starting to tense up again. “Do you think I can trust him because I do?”

            There was silence, as Potter struggled with what must have been his own instincts. Then he looked at Severus and resumed at least a little of his former breathing and slowness as he said, “I think so.”

            “Good,” said Severus, in the same kind of voice he used when he was getting ready to treat a unicorn with a potion, and he reached out and cupped his hand around Potter’s chin. He didn’t actually touch the man. Draco, watching every movement, nodded his approval of that tactic. Potter needed to be left with choice, or he would clam up on them, freeze up, and every chance would be lost.

            “You can withdraw at any time,” said Severus. “I want to make that clear. You don’t have to let me into your mind if you don’t want to.”

            “How do I keep you out?”

            “You ask.” Severus, to Draco’s further approval, didn’t sound amused or contemptuous. “Tell me that you want me to withdraw from your mind. And I will do so.”

            There was a moment probably worth far more than Draco could estimate, when he could feel the delicate balance in the room tipping back and forth. He had no idea what sort of problems lay around Legilimency when it came to Severus and Potter, but obviously those problems were enormous.

            “Okay,” Potter finally whispered.

            “Good,” Severus said back, just as softly, and nodded to Draco. Draco stepped back so he wouldn’t be in between them but would be nearby to help in case either needed him.

            “Legilimens,” said Severus, and his body stiffened a little as he went into the trance that characterized him being inside someone else’s head. Potter stiffened, too, but Draco doubted it was for any reason as comfortable.

            Draco stepped behind Potter and got ready to support him if he drooped or fell. He judged that his greater concern at the moment, rather than Severus needing him.

*

            Potter’s memories were full of noise and whirling. Severus saw a dog rushing towards him, teeth bared and body low to the ground, and a young Potter scrambling towards a tree. There was already a bleeding wound on his calf.

            “Stop,” Severus said, and the dog froze where it stood, as well as the laughing figures behind it, which were only human by common courtesy. The young Potter went on scrambling up the tree, but then seemed to realize the barking had stopped. He turned around and blinked down.

            “What did you do?” he asked, in a voice that resonated in odd ways. It was the voice of his adult counterpart, not a nine-year-old boy—as Severus judged him to be, taking a quick look at him and comparing it to his memories of an eleven-year-old Potter. Even then he had been small and scrawny.

            “You can fight these memories,” Severus said. “Freeze them. Hold them back. Replay them again. Their darkness has been strengthened with the magic that affected you on the destruction of the Horcrux. But they are still yours. You are stronger than they are, conscious in a way they are not.”

            The boy in the tree seemed to think about that. Then he dropped to the ground and walked over towards the frozen dog. Severus nodded in approval when he drew his foot back to kick the dog.

            But he quickly lowered it again. “It’s an animal,” said Potter. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t kick dogs.”

            Severus shrugged. “If I thought treating your memories this way would result in you abusing a real dog, I wouldn’t teach you this tactic. But I think that’s entirely unlikely. Isn’t it?” he added, when Potter only stared at him with those disconcerting child’s eyes instead of responding.

            “But it’s wrong.”

            “This is only a memory. Not the real dog. And what those excuses for guardians did to you was very wrong as well.”

            “Sometimes I think they were right, though. I mean, I never acted as quickly as I should have. I didn’t save Cedric. I didn’t go and get professors when I should have or ask the right questions. Those are things I wish I could change.”

            “That is part of the magic and force that strengthens your memories,” Severus said, and managed to sound as though he was describing something neutral, not responding to something that exasperated him. “Your guilt and worry. If you lie awake at night worrying about those things—”

            “I do. I mean, I have to. What happens if I have the same choices someday and I mess them up again? I have to think about them so I don’t.”

            Severus slowly bent down so he could look into the child’s eyes on the same level. “You would make choices that are good ones. And if you can trust more people, then you will have more people to advise you and reassure you.”

            Potter looked back at him, and his gaze was so steady. In the middle of even a momentary burst of safety, Severus thought, Potter gained his strength back.

            Severus had been thinking in terms of getting Potter to trust them so they could heal him, because it was an interesting case and something Lovegood wanted them to do. Now Severus thought Potter’s trust might also be interesting to have on its own terms.

            “That’s true,” said Potter abruptly. Again his voice startled Severus, so mature and thoughtful, at odds with the child he looked like. He faced the dog and the people again, and nodded once. “All right. Let the memory go.”

            “Why? We cannot talk to each other like this then, and there is the chance that you will lose control of it and it will wound you.”

            “I want to see if I can stop it on my own.” Potter gave him a tolerant glance. “Not much use if you have to come into my mind every time I want to control the memory, is it?”

            Severus hesitated, but what Potter said made good sense, even if part of him wanted to lodge an instinctive protest against it. He finally nodded and released his tight control on the dog.

            The dog instantly blurred into action again, but Potter glared at it, and it began to slow down. Sweat plopped from Potter’s forehead like tears. Severus thought he could see the faded scar—well, he knew it was faded in real life, and it looked the same here—coming back to life, red and aching, from Potter’s concentration.

            The dog had slowed, but hadn’t stopped completely. Its teeth were a few centimeters from Potter’s bleeding leg. Severus found himself straining forwards, mouth open to speak a word of caution, even though Potter knew perfectly well what that dog’s teeth could do. He’d lived through it.

            And it seemed he would live through it again. A gasp escaped Potter’s lips, and he froze the dog. Then he turned and made the faces of the people laughing at him soften and wash away. They became figures on a dark background, and then not even that, blending and blurring into each other.

            When they were little more than smudges of ink, and so was the dog, Potter sat down and rested his forehead on his knees. He was gasping and shaking in a way that made Severus put a hand on his shoulder before he thought about it.

            “I can—make it,” Potter said, and stood upright with a stubborn shake of his head. He looked at the place where the human figures had stood. “I can’t just change all my memories like that, though, can I? I don’t want to forget what really happened.”

            “This does not change your memory in the sense of making you forget,” Severus told him quietly. He was trying to remember the last time he had seen such a display of mental strength from someone who was not a trained Legilimens, and honestly could not recall it. “It reassures you that you survived the confrontation, and traps the memory so it can’t flood your mind like that again. Rather like setting up a dam to hold in water.”

            “I see.” Potter had climbed back to his feet, and he was growing as Severus watched, shedding the last child-like disguise of the memory. He glanced around and then turned to smile at Severus. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been helpful.”

            “You don’t need to call me that,” Severus told him before he thought about it. “I’m no longer your professor.”

            Potter glanced again at where Petunia and her husband, and what was presumably her sister-in-law, had stood.

            “That was something you did yourself. Not something you needed someone to teach you, exactly.”

            Potter looked at him with a private smile. “Why don’t you let me decide what kinds of debts I want to owe?”

            Startled, Severus nodded. “Then I will,” he said. “Do you think you’ll be able to do that with other memories, once you face them?”

            Potter grimaced. “Not right away. Some of them are stronger, anyway, the way you saw with that basilisk memory. This is one of the milder ones, really.” Severus hid a shudder that anyone could describe the pull he’d felt as mild. “But eventually, yeah.” He nodded to Severus and said, “See you on the outside.” He began to fade, and by the time Severus blinked away the wavering vision that sights like that always seemed to leave him with, he was gone.

            Severus spiraled up and out of Potter’s mind, and found himself sitting up in his chair, catching Draco’s eyes across Potter’s head. Potter had slumped sideways in sleep, a much more natural sleep than he’d had so far. Draco raised an eyebrow.

            Severus nodded.

            Draco smiled and stroked Potter’s shoulder once. Then he walked over to Severus and offered him the best reward he could have had for his labor in Potter’s mind, a sweet kiss that quickly deepened.

            Severus didn’t know, later, what to make of the fact that he felt much the same satisfaction receiving the kiss from Draco and looking at Potter slumped asleep in his chair.

*

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Opening Salvo