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Harry Potter the Dragonrider?	By : 2910leiv Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6181 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money from this fic

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Over the next couple of days Severus Snape made it a point to remain in the vicinity of the first year squires and of Harry P… Evans in particular. He subtly watched as the boy followed his training regime in the gym in the morning and watched as he ate his meals in the Mess Hall. When Harry and a group of his friends decided to explore the town on the last day of the festival, Severus Snape followed them around, like a shadow; stalking them. He was sure that Harry at least knew he was there, but didn’t know what the boy thought of it.

Severus was hiding behind the side curtain on a marked stall, casting surreptitious glances over the head of a plump woman with a bawling toddler on her hip. The stall was displaying fanciful tablecloths, napkins, scarves and the like. He glared at the loud child, disgusted by the slimy drool coating its chin and the snot running from its nose. The child saw him and howled louder in a frightened cry, prompting the mother to bounce it on her hip a few times in a vain effort to silence it. With an air of resignation she returned to her perusing among the colourful cloths and began haggling for a reasonable price over the din.

He looked over at where Harry and his fellow squires were standing. Some of them were examining some wooden figurines and others were browsing through the watercolour paintings in the next stall. Harry was standing between the two and laughing at something another boy had said, when he suddenly looked around, searchingly. Moments later his eyes met those of Severus’, who gasped slightly. The boy was beautiful in his squire’s uniform and happily, laughing eyes. He saw him recognise him, but he gave no sign of acknowledgement to Severus. Instead he turned back to his friends and proceeded as if nothing had occurred. Severus felt strangely abandoned after that, as if he had been warmed by the sun and now it had disappeared behind the clouds. He scolded himself upon such thoughts, telling himself to cease behaving like a bloody Hufflepuff. When the small group moved through the throng of people he pushed past the woman with the still screaming toddler and followed them.

It was about a week later when Severus received a letter from the law enforcement centre. It was delivered by a rather timid looking sparrow. Severus was surprised the bird was even able to lift the letter, let alone deliver it. With a slow delicate movement he took the proffered letter from the bird’s beak and it immediately fluttered out the window with a trill of a song as a parting salute. He almost smiled after it; he had always liked birds. Looking down at it he opened the letter and read the contents.

To Mr. Severus Snape

This to inform you of the capture of a succubus suspected of six counts of illegal feedings during the 73. - 82. day of summer, including the time of the harvest festival.

As a registered witness in the count of the accused and Harry Evans, you will be expected to stand ready to submit your testimony before the court at:

17. day of autum, Draconid year 9456. Between 9.00 and 19.00 o’clock.

Signed:

Golden City Law Enforcement, Citadel Division.

He frowned. Six counts! That was unheard of. There was absolutely no reason for a succubus to attack even a single person, let alone six. He shuttered. He had been to a succubus/incubus bar once with Lucius Malfoy on business for the Dark Lord.

The place had been a nice enough establishment, looking much like any other bar; that is if one could ignore the masses of naked people covering the place; the seething, writhing bodies contorting in pleasure; the cries and moans of pleasure and pain; the smell of sweat, musk, pheromones and sex hanging heavily in the air; making it difficult to even breathe without affecting ones own body.

Lucius had allowed himself to succumb to it, joining in an ongoing orgy, but he had always enjoyed such depravities. An incubus had made a move toward Severus, leering at him, but he had pulled his wand and hexed the creature before he could ensnare him with his allure. Severus had then carried through with their mission (questioning and torturing a man) and left the place – and Lucius - right after.

He shuttered again at the memory. It wasn’t that he was prudish or anything; he simply preferred his partners and by extension him self to be willing, aware and free. When he had first joined the Dark Lord he had been made to go on the raids with the other Death Eaters. He had been untroubled by the violence and the torturing of innocents, but he had been unable to participate in the rapes. He still remembered the first time.

He had stood frozen and watched as first Knowles and then Goyle sr. had beaten and raped a young girl. She had looked no older than thirteen, a mere child. She had screamed and fought until she was beaten enough to silence her. She had cried the entire time. Then Knowles had turned to Severus and pulled him closer, grinningly saying that it was his turn now. Severus had stood there for a moment, before bolting out the door and vomiting into a flowerpot on the door step.

It had earned him a full minute under the Crusiatus curse from the Dark Lord and a lot of ribbing from the other Death Eaters. But eventually it became an accepted fact, that he did not perform that bit of Death Eater “fun”; a fact that became more acceptable by his proves in the tortuous application of potions. He sighed. It was no good dwelling on such things. Deciding to brighten his mood, he put on his cloak and proceeded to walk through the complex toward the squire’s territory. It was really an odd development, he mused, that the brat would actually be something to brighten his day rather than darken it as it always had before.

He thought about the past couple of years at Hogwarts. The boy had certainly been a menace, casting himself into danger at every turn and needing to be rescued and protected all the time. He remembered the many summer nights on guard duty at Privet Drive; of endless staff meetings discussing ward strengthening and other security measures, of preventing the boy from falling off an enchanted broomstick and of flinging himself to stand in front of the boy and a colleague-turned-werewolf. Life certainly had been interesting the last few years. He almost chuckled to himself. Bloody Gryffindor brat, he thought affectionately and almost snarled at himself for the thought.

He walked onto the fifth floor gallery and leaned over the balustrade to better look into courtyard below. It was as busy as ever with squires and clerics rushing to and fro, but oddly enough there didn’t seem to be any of the first years about. He had come to know them all by appearance and a few by name as well. Primarily those closest to Harry. He sighed slightly, so only he could notice and headed down to ground floor. Maybe Harry was in the gym? Though it wasn’t the usual time for it and it wasn’t time for him to eat either.

When a thorough search of all Harry’s normal haunts didn’t reveal the small Gryffindor, Severus was feeling close to panicking. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing. Where could the reckless insufferable brat be? Then he spotted a cleric from the administrations office. Swallowing his pride, he rushed over and almost grabbed the woman’s arm. He just managed to stop himself. She gave him an odd look. He smirked in what he hoped was a friendly gesture. She seemed to grow even more alarmed.

“Please, can you tell me where Squire Evans is?” he asked, forcing him self to be polite. She frowned at him, inquiringly.

“What year is he or she?” she asked.

“A first year.” Severus cursed himself for not being more specific from the start. He was slipping. She smiled at him.

“Ah, the first year squires left this morning on a two week survival training course. They should be back on the 13. day of autumn.” He thanked her. Harry would be back four days before the trial. Resignedly Severus walked off to go have a cup of coffee at nice café some streets away. Maybe he should check out a new book at the library?

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Harry was aching all over. Every single joint in his body complained as he gingerly placed his ragged, filthy backpack on the floor of the dorm. He heard his fellow squires groaning and moaning around him as they too proceeded to strip themselves of their burdens. Harry decided to head off the rush for the shower and vanished his clothes with a flick of his wand. They were ruined anyway; torn and covered in mud, sweat and blood. He headed into the shower and just stood there as the warm water caressed his sore muscles and ran down his body, turning dark as it flowed through the grate in the floor.

Soon he had to continue with his shower, washing his hair and body for the first time in two whole weeks, not counting the time they had to swim across an ice cold river or the three day down pour they had to suffer through. As soon as he finished he stepped out of the water, leaving it on for the next person standing in line and nakedly dripping made his way into the dorm and found a towel and some sleepwear. They had become increasingly relaxed around each other during the few months they had shared a dorm. But the final breakdown of barriers had come on this trip. Spending two weeks together around the clock, doing literally everything together made such things as body modesty seem rather ridiculous. Though he supposed that the longer they spent back in “civilisation” the less likely they were to relax as completely again.

Sitting down on his bed he pulled out his potions kit and took a mild pain reliever and a muscle relaxant. With a sigh of relief he felt them kick in and he gratefully climbed under the covers and fell asleep within moments.

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“Harry… oh, Harry… wakey wakey.” Some idiot was singsonging into his ear. Harry grunted, mumbling something rude under his breath and turned slightly away. The voice snickered. “Come on Harry, time to wake up… WAKE UP!” Harry sat bolt upright and blinked blearily. A person was standing beside his bed. Harry felt his blood turn to ice in his veins and gasped in fear. Voldemort. The snake-faced Dark Lord was standing right there by his bed at Privet Drive. How was that even possible? Harry thought frantically. The wards were supposed to be impregnable. Dumbledore had always told him the Death Eaters and Voldemort could never get inside the house. Voldemort looked at him with disdain and laughed menacingly.

“Oh Harry, you didn’t think that you would escape me, did you?” Voldemort twirled Harry’s wand in one hand almost absentmindedly. Harry was shocked to realise that he hadn’t even made a grab for it when he discovered he had company. What kind of a wizard doesn’t go for his wand in a time of danger? He berated himself. Harry frantically looked around the room for anything that might help him.

“Did you really think you could hide from me?” Voldemort said again in a hushed silky voice. The older man made a gesture and Harry suddenly found himself held in thin air as if by an invisible hand, unable to get free and barely able to breathe.

“Come with me, Potter. I want you to see this.” The silky voice turned colder than ice and with a flick of the man’s wand Harry floated behind the Dark Lord down the stairs and toward the sitting room. Just outside he heard the sound of muffled whimper and a subdued laugh coming from within. The door to the sitting room opened with a grand flourish and Lord Voldemort strode majestically into the room. Harry floated along behind him.

The scene was nightmarish. A dozen Death Eaters were standing around the familiar room; some had broken into the kitchen and were eating some of Aunt Petunia’s cake for the Ladies Circle meeting tomorrow. Harry had spent three hours making that cake, he thought resentfully, as he watched a particularly messy Death Eater smear the cream filling from his hand all over the expensive wallpaper. On the floor in front of the Death Eaters were his relatives; Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley. Each of them were hogtied and with a gag in their mouths, to keep them from screaming. He could tell that Dudley had pissed himself with fear and he was quivering, trying to get closer to his parents, but held back by the foot of a Death Eater. Aunt Petunia was also looking extremely frightened, but Uncle Vernon looked furious. His face was purple and his little beady eyes flared.

“MacNair, if you would…” Voldemort waved his hand at the trio on the floor with a look of disgust. One of the Death Eaters moved closer and drew out his wand. Without any preamble he hit Vernon Dursley with a powerful stinging curse. The fat man on the floor roared in pain and the bony woman beside him screamed into her gag. She was hit next with a cutting curse. A number of large gashes opened and she began to bleed all over her pristine carpet. Then Vernon was hit again by more painful curses, one of which broke several bones in his body. Then Petunia was hit by the same curse. Her shrill scream sounded loud even through the gag.

Voldemort looked on quite calmly as MacNair continued to torment the adults, then he raised his voice slightly to be heard over the painful cries.

“Goyle, Crabbe, I believe your special talents are required for the boy.” Two Death Eaters stepped forward, one of them being the one who had soiled the wallpaper.

“Well, he is rather disgustingly fat for my personal tastes, My Lord, but I shall make an exception today.” The man grinned and moved over to the terrified teen on the floor. The other Death Eater, Harry couldn’t tell them apart, was already there and was using a cutting curse to remove Dudley’s clothes. Some of the cuts went too deep and cut into the boy’s skin, making him howl with terrified pain. Harry’s eyes widened as he realised what they were going to do. He struggled, trying to get free, but was completely stuck. He couldn’t even make a sound. He watched in horror, as the two Death Eaters, fathers of two of his year-mates at Hogwarts, raped his cousin. Beside them MacNair was still torturing his Aunt and Uncle, making blood splatter in every direction. The other Death Eaters watched everything gleefully, laughing and making leering suggestions to Goyle as he plunged into the obese child. Harry wanted to close his eyes; wanted to let the bile flow from his stomach, but he couldn’t. Voldemort was making him watch everything.

When Crabbe and Goyle had finished abusing the boy, Voldemort stepped forward, put a hand on MacNair’s shoulder, making him cease his cruelties.

“Gentlemen, it is time.” With a small nod he turned and looked straight at Harry for the first time since entering the room. A small menacing smile appeared on his face. Behind him MacNair said:

“Avada Kedavra.” And a green light flew from his wand at Vernon Dursley. Then it was repeated on Petunia Dursley, whose screams broke of in mid-scream. Harry stared at her unseeing eyes, as the curse was sent at the blubbering Dudley. One of the Death Eaters kicked the now still form of the youngest Dursley.

“Filthy muggles.”

Voldemort gestured for them to get out of the house through the garden door and they hurriedly left. Harry could hear the pops of apparition quite clearly, as he still hung suspended in the air. When Voldemort was the only one left he turned to look at Harry, made a small half bow and said:

“Until we meet again, Potter.” Then he pointed his wand up toward the ceiling and said: “Morsmordre.” Harry knew the skull and snake symbol would be floating in the air above Privet Drive. Then the entire scene seemed to vanish as if it were smoke clearing and he bolted upright, sitting in his bed in the first year squire’s dorm in the Nexus realm. His heart was pounding and he was gasping for breath, as if he had been running. He felt the bile rise in his throat and just managed to turn to one side and vomit onto the floor. A startled house-elf busy cleaning three beds down rushed over to him and vanished the sick. Then it told him in a high squeaky voice, that it would get help and with a soft pop it disapperated, before he could protest. With a sigh he fell back into bed and flung an arm over his eyes. It hadn’t been a dream. He was sure of it. He had just witnessed Voldemort murder his relatives.

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“Master Snapey, sir?” A scared high pitched voice broke into his peaceful slumber. He felt a tug on the sleeve of his pyjama shirt.

“Master Snapy, sir, has got to wake up, sir.” The voice insisted and the tugging increased. Severus Snape growled at the disturbance and was rewarded by a loud shriek of fear. But then the voice repeated:

“Master Snapey, sir, please wake up. Sir is needed, sir is.” Snape slowly opened his eyes and glared at the offender. It was a house elf, not that he was surprised. Few creatures would speak so ineloquently and in such a high voice. The sound of it was like dragging nails across a blackboard, something he sometimes did, when teaching idiotic Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

“Why are you disturbing me (he checked the clock) at four in the morning?” he growled. He had stayed up brewing a difficult potion until quite late and had only gotten a few hours sleep. The house elf jumped in fright.

“Snookie is sorry, Master Snapey. But Mistress Soontiil told Snookie to get Master Snapey.” Oh, sure, it can’t get my name right, but Soontiil it has no problem pronouncing, Snape thought angrily as he sat up with a groan and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The elf scurried out of his reach. Probably too experienced at the violent responses some people have to being awoken in the middle of the night. Then it hit him. Mistress Soontiil was the chief cleric under Master Tiran and responsible for taking care of the squires. Harry! He made a grab for the house elf, but it had wisely stayed out of reach.

“What has happened? Is something wrong with P…Evans?” The house elf looked at him with big frightened eyes.

“Snookie does not know, Master Snapey, sir. Snookie is cleaning the dorm, sir, when one of the young squires got sick all over the clean floor, sir.” It sounded indignant that someone would do such a thing. “Then Snookie left to fetch the Watcher, sir. The squire was led to the infirmary and Snookie was sent to fetch Master Snapey, sir.” Snape sighed. He never thought a person could put so many sirs into one paragraph.

“Allow me to get dressed and then take me to the infirmary.”

“Yes sir, Master Snapey sir.” He just managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

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The house elf vanished with a soft pop and left him standing in a gently lit hall. A row of chairs were scattered along the length of the hall on one side and a row of doors on the other. There was a door in front of him with a number 15B painted on it. It was slightly ajar. When he pushed it open an elf, of the humanoid - woodland variety, looked up and gestured at him to enter.

“Ah, you must be Master Snape.” The man said. Snape nodded once in affirmation and then focused his attention on the squire in the bed. Harry! The boy had a doped up look on his face, but he was conscious; his eyes were swimming and rolling in their sockets; he had a small dribble of drool at the corner of his mouth. He was very pale and clammy; by the looks of him he had certainly seen better days.

“I am Healer Woo Lee.” Snape turned sharply to look at the man. Did he just call himself Woolly? The elf rolled his eyes and sent Snape a look, silently daring him to say it.

“Squire Evans has named you his ICE.” Seeing the potion masters confusion he clarified. “A person to contact In Case of an Emergency.” Snape nodded his understanding, while his thoughts were racing. Why would Harry name HIM as his contact? Surely some of his friends…

“The squire has experienced some form of disturbing dream…” the elven healer didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Snape interrupted him furiously.

“Do you mean to tell me, that I was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, because P..Evans had a nightmare?!” He was about to turn and head for the door, when the elf looked at him peculiarly and said:

“No, Master Snape. The squire did not merely suffer a bad dream.” Snape glared at him, but the man didn’t as much as flinch. If Snape hadn’t still been so furious, he would have felt he was loosing his touch.

“I believe young Evans has experienced what my kind refers to as a ‘true dreaming’. A vision if you like.” That made Snape pay attention. He was aware of the boy’s connection with the Dark Lord and the telepathic link they possibly shared. Headmaster Dumbledore had made him help with the research on it when the boy had first exhibited signs of being linked with the evil man. Dumbledore’s theory that Voldemort had somehow formed a telepathic link with the infant Potter, upon the temporary loss of a physical form had still to be proven or disproven.

“The young man told me of how he was awoken in his family’s home and made to watch as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters tortured raped and killed his relatives.” Snape swallowed deeply. “He was understandably most upset, barely coherent in fact. I had to administer a sedative.” He added sadly. Snape nodded pensively. He knew how the Dark Lord’s little raids went. He had participated in his fair share of them.

“What will happen now?” he asked. The healer looked at him in gentle understanding. That was one of the reasons he was always so on edge around their kind. They had great empathy and could read him like an open book, no matter how much he tightened his occlumency shields.

“Now we help the squire to grieve and teach him to block out unwanted visions.” Snape snorted discretely.

“The boy is terrible at occlumency.” The healer gave him a penetrating stare.

“Then there is all the more reason to learn.” He paused, obviously waiting for some sign from Snape. The potions master stood rigid and clamped down on his shields so tightly he knew not even the Dark Lord could enter. But the healer just sent him a little smile and a nod.

“Perhaps a diverse effort will promote understanding. I shall be teaching Squire Evans various techniques in meditation, mental control and the telempathic shielding techniques employed by my kind. Perhaps you would be so kind as to… further his understanding and use of occlumency?” The look the elf sent him was unmistakable. It was a direct challenge for Snape to prove himself as an occlumence and as a teacher. Snape was tempted to refuse, to show that he was above such juvenile attempts at machoism. But as it was Snape was a proud man and the fact that a tree hugging elf would be able to do, what he could not was too much of a slight on his ego.

“Very well.” He said. I accept you challenge. He looked at the boy on the bed. Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?

Once the healer had left the room he allowed himself to collapse tiredly in the chair by the window and sighed. Harry had fallen asleep and was snoring softly, slobbering slightly on his pillow. Snape pulled a face at the disgusting sight, but soon it morphed into a worried frown. Why does it always have to be you, Harry?
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Harry Potter the Dragonrider?