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Lost Phoenix	By : sshp4ever Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 21769 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its Characters. I make no money (unfortunately) from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Animals
- 2-Waiting
- 3-Dirty
- 4-Alone
- 5-Umbrellas
- 6-Dreaming
- 7-Retribution
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter Five: Umbrellas

            By the time Lucius returned, the Potions Master had been waiting over thirty minutes. It no longer infuriated Severus when the man arrived fashionably late to everything, but it did leave him feeling older than his measly thirty-six years.

            With a curt nod in greeting, he gave his friend the coordinates of the shop in Bromley and prepared to depart. Both men were clad in standard black Death Eater robes and the signature grotesque white masks. Lucius apparated away, with Snape following less than a second later with a turn of his heal and a billow of robes.

            Once the unpleasant constricting sensation of apparition had left him, Severus found himself in a gloomy abandoned lane between two mundane buildings. There were piles of trash, large smelly skips, and scattered cardboard boxes lining the walls. From what he could tell they were alone, so he began explaining the uncomplicated strategy to his companion, who jerked around at the sound of his name.

            “Lucius, the entrance is right over there,” Severus informed him, pointing to a large expanse of empty brick. “Wait out here and ensure that no one enters before I return. This shouldn’t take too long.” He had decided Lucius should wait outside so as not to encourage any unneeded thieving. Severus didn’t approve of random raids for excessive materials, but he thought his life more valuable than Voldemort’s idiosyncrasies and always complied. This time, however, he could make sure nothing but what was essential would be taken from the shop.

            Quickly moving towards the bricks that he knew would grant him entry, Severus pulled out his wand. Tapping the ones he knew would reveal the doorway, the Potions Master slipped into the deserted apothecary.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            Harry’s head swung up with such force that it collided with the wall behind him. He watched the man right himself just as the intruder whirled around to look in his direction, when he heard the smack of flesh against brick. Mercifully, Harry was huddled in the darkest shadowy corner of the passage. Nevertheless, panic filled him as he took in the telling black robes and colourless mask that glowed in the moonlight. Thanks to his startled reaction, this Death Eater knew there was something or someone else in the alleyway. If possible Harry’s heart started hammering even faster. Shit. He was completely defenseless: no wand, broom, or energy left for flight. The only thing he could do was double in on himself, once again attempting invisibility.

            That was when the second pop sounded. But Harry just hugged himself tighter, wishing they would both go away. He heard them whispering together and imagined what would befall him now that Voldemort knew of his whereabouts. But being incapable of even standing up, he could only prepare himself for the inevitable assault. However, a few moments passed with no altercation, so Harry timidly peaked out from behind his knees. The more formidable man, in both height and build, was tapping bricks with his wand while the shorter slimmer man, who had heard Harry, watched disinterestedly.

            Sudden hope filled the helpless boy. Maybe the Death Eater hadn’t heard him at all. Perhaps they were too busy to bother checking out what the mysterious noise had been if they were on an important mission.

            His hopes were dashed, however, when only the larger of the two villains, entered the building, leaving the smaller one alone in the alley. Almost immediately after the wall had closed, the first Death Eater went to work.

            “Lumos,” was the murmured drawl of the unidentifiable man still in the alley. The voice was strangely familiar and it sent chills up Harry’s spine. “I know you’re hiding back there. No muggle can escape from me.” The word muggle was spit in the most disparaging way that Harry was only slightly comforted when he realized that he could pass for one.

            He did look adequately changed…his hair was almost past his shoulder. His fringe covered his eyes and hid his scar. Most altered, however, was his weight. Since arriving at the Dursley’s, Harry had lost at least two stone from the constant manual labor and imaginary diet. The body that he usually maintained was hardly anything more than skin and bone. Dudley’s old clothes hung off him with even more vengeance than usual. Harry was confident that this faceless Death Eater would not recognize him. But that didn’t mean he was out of danger.

            When the light from the Lumos struck him, Harry was forced to lower his face so as not to be blinded. Having no way to defend himself all he could do was cower farther into bricks, which did nothing to offer him protection. It had finally stopped pouring and was only a light drizzle, but his visibility was still terribly distorted, making him practically blind without his glasses. He could only hope the same was true for the masked man.

Before he could react to the proximity of his opposition, Harry found himself being dragged up by his shirt. A firm hand was gripping his front collar, hauling him away from what little protection the wall had offered him. He was too weak to resist and quickly found himself hauled up to his knees.

            “What do we have here? Look here, boy,” he flinched at the familiar nickname, and kept his eyes closed as he tilted his head, knowing that his eyes were bound to give him away. “Well aren’t you pretty…” came the aristocratic voice that Harry was suddenly able to place.

            Even as his face heated from the embarrassing comment, Harry’s mind was racing. He’s supposed to be in Azkaban. Dumbledore told me he was going to Azkaban! Shit! He’s going to recognize me…He quickly ducked his head again hoping to delay the inevitable. Lucius Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see. Voldemort would have been preferable; at least the madman would have killed him immediately. Malfoy would surely want revenge for his humiliation at the Ministry. Suddenly he couldn’t control himself and violent tremors consumed him. There was also a pathetic whimpering emanating from his chest.

            “Oh my! Could this be my lucky day, an abandoned little rent boy? What are you doing here, all alone, without anyone to defend you?” Lucius mocked, a malicious grin transforming his once handsome face to a crazed phantom of a man’s. Harry struggled desperately, despite his fatigue. But his attempts at escape seemed not to bother his captor, who didn’t realise his prisoner was struggling at all. “You remind me of someone, you know. A terribly little pest who needs to learn his place. And now I can humiliate him as he has me…”

            He shivered. Malfoy’s short stint in Azkaban seemed to have tipped him over the edge. Now the once prominent aristocrat was insane. Inconceivably, Harry felt guilt welling up from within him. I made him this way. He started to shake again, but this time sniveling accompanied the involuntary convulsions. Whatever Lucius did to him was deserved.

            Leaving his introspection behind, Harry became aware of being dragged to his feet, at which point Malfoy let go of him. In an attempt to stay erect he slumped back, leaning on the wall. Everything was hazy and colours were blurring together. But through the distortion, Harry could make out the shadowy black robes of his assailant. He could hear Malfoy taunting him with his bad fortune, the man was telling him what was going to be done to him.

            “I’m going to make you my bitch, boy. But I promise you’ll enjoy it,” he heard the words but couldn’t react because he was too weak to move, his limp body just resting lazily against the bricks. All he could do was watch as Lucius drew his wand and cast “Depulso,” banishing his trousers. When the Death Eater saw that Harry wore no pants, he began to emit a crazed cackling, eerily reminiscent of Voldemort’s laughter.

            Faster than Harry could register with his impaired senses, Lucius had flipped him around so that his forehead rested against the rough material of the wall. He could dimly hear the man behind him undoing his robes and murmuring to himself how much of a whore Harry was.

            “Such an obedient little whore, and look you’ve been busy!” Malfoy simpered upon seeing the dried blood that undoubtedly graced Harry’s thighs. With a whispered “Nox,” he felt his ass being spread.

            It all seemed like a dream. Colours were blending together and he felt weightless. Wherever he made contact with anything his skin felt hypersensitive. But the most confounding was the very real sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t this same nightmare just happened to him not hours ago? Therefore, Harry was forced to conclude, with his failing consciousness, that this must just be a hallucination. Nothing this horrific happened to anyone, even him: the epitome of bad luck.

            But it all felt real: the excruciating pain of being suddenly penetrated and the stomach-churning awareness of a cock plunging in and out of his already raw channel, nausea so intense from the agony that he retched bile that dribbled down his front. It was all so familiar and terrifying. He didn’t even realise he was sobbing until the snot and tears made it hard to breathe. His world began to dim as his torment became more intense.

            But, thankfully, his world faded to black and all the unpleasantness dwindled away to the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            Excellent!

Severus had just pocketed five jars of the most expensive potion ingredient in all of Europe. He figured it would last him at least fifty years. Satisfied with his find, he began making his way back to the entrance of the deserted apothecary. It had really been a much simpler raid than he had expected. If he had owned a potions shop he would have kept all the really valuable ingredients under lock and key. But the owner had all the valuables thrown in with the rest. This had made his search as simple as a whispered Accio Asphodel.

It occurred to Severus that he could just be insanely paranoid, but reassured himself with the thought that his constant paranoia had kept him alive for the past sixteen years.

Maneuvering himself through the shelves and counters full of assorted fresh ingredients, Snape began planning his schedule for the next day. He had completed all the pre-battle remedies and could afford a day off before beginning any of the restorative or concentration draughts that the Dark Lord demanded each month. It was past time for a shower; Severus hated it when his hair got this greasy. And it had been ages since he’d been able to relax and just read a book. He missed the days back before the Dark Lord had returned when he actually had free time.

Finally reaching the exit, Snape pushed through the doors into the dark alley. A spike of fear stole through the Potions Master when he saw no sign of Lucius. Fortunately, almost immediately he heard ragged breathing farther down the lane. Quickly casting a “Lumos,” Snape hurried over in the direction of the noise, assuming the worst.

            “Lucius what’s happened?” he inquired. Despite his almost constant irritation, the sardonic Potions Master did still care about his old friend’s welfare. “Have you been injured?” But upon further inspection his companion only seemed to be out of breath and a bit sweaty.

            “It’s fine Severus. A homeless muggle just came wondering down the alleyway and I simply chased it out. However, I’m not as young as I once was and I am now quite fatigued,” Lucius panted out between gasping breaths.

            After Malfoy had recovered a bit more, Severus apparated them both away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

            “Hermione! Thank Merlin you’re here!” an exuberant Ron cried. “There’s going to be a battle!”

            “Yes, Ron. You mentioned that in your letter,” Hermione replied, trying her hardest to keep her patience. Sometimes her freckle-faced friend could be beyond dense.

            “I know, but I couldn’t tell you everything in the note, the owl could have been intercepted and Professor Dumbledore swore us all to secrecy!” The rambling redheaded teen was turning scarlet due to lack of air. “It’s going to be at Hogwarts! Can you believe it? Apparently, Snape, that bloody bastard, told You-Know-Who that Harry was staying there over the summer. And now the Death Eaters are planning to attack the school in a few days…”

            Hermione let her old friend prattle on to his heart’s content. She dusted the soot off her robes as Ron led her up to his bedroom. Earlier that day she had received an owl from Ron, informing her about an impending skirmish. She didn’t know whether it was her Gryffindor bravery or loyalty that had prompted her to abandon her parents in Prague. But she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something positively dreadful was going to happen. So not half an hour after rereading the aforementioned letter, she had stepped through the floo into the Weasley’s modest kitchen. Now here she was being talked at by an overly excitable friend, who could prattle on and on about how excited he was for hours if given the chance. But she was ready for answers.

            “Ron!” she demanded, but after receiving no recognition, yelled, “RON!”

            “Oh sorry Hermione, I’m just so excited,” mumbled an abashed Ronald Weasley.

            “I gathered,” Hermione said dryly. “I wanted to know what the Order plans to do and if they expect us to stay behind the scenes.”

            “Mum isn’t letting Ginny and I into the meetings, but Fred and George have been in them since they’re both seventeen now. They told me that mum and dad don’t want anyone under seventeen to fight, even though they know they’re going to be severely outnumbered. “

            As they reached the landing and entered Ron’s bright orange, Chudley Cannon themed room, Hermione asked, “Have you heard from Harry? Do you know when he’s coming over?”

            At this question Ron’s face darkened and scrunched up in frustration. “No, I haven’t actually. In fact I sent him an owl inviting him to come over a couple weeks early, but the owl was returned and the letter was unopened. Think the Dursley’s have locked up Hedwig again?” he said, with obvious annoyance with his best friend’s despicable relatives.

            “Did you tell anyone? I’ve been saying for years that the Dursley’s are too prejudiced to care for Harry! They’re simply idiotic, with their silly preconceptions,” Hermione ranted, already exasperated with the topic.

            “Yes! I asked Dumbledore if Harry could come over before his birthday, but the crazy old loon wouldn’t hear of it. He kept going on about blood protection and character building,” the redhead fumed. “But, evidently it’s the safest place for him right now. I overheard Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster talking about all the wards they put on Harry’s relative’s house after the night at the Ministry. No one who bears the Dark Mark can enter the house and Dumbledore’s Secret Keeper, so at least You-Know-Who can’t get to him.”

            Hermione had been about to give a scathing reply all about the obvious threat Harry was to himself (due to current events), when they were interrupted by twin pops of apparition.

            “Oh look!”

            “It’s ickle Ronni-kins—”

            “And his little girlfriend!” The twin’s speech was enough to confuse anyone. And as Ron swelled with outrage at his age old nickname, Hermione surveyed the pair of matching Weasley’s. The last time she’d seen them, they’d been shooting across the Hogwarts grounds toward freedom from Umbridge. She wondered how their business was going now that the war seemed to have started. But what interested her more were the boys themselves. They had both grown a couple of inches over the past few months and filled out nicely to boot. They were both wearing matching dragon hide boots and formfitting navy robes. Hermione had to admit she was more than a little bit attracted to them. It was true that she had had a terrible crush on Ronald for the past couple of years, but his average intelligence and steadfast immaturity were the reasons she’d never tried to further a relationship. Not to mention her penchant for redheads. Fred and George were a perfect combination of intellect, comedy, and good looks. Plus, there were two of them.

            “See something—”

            “You like?” the twins asked together, both grinning smugly. It was obvious that they were aware of their effect on her. Whereas, Ron simply looked a bit lost. Yes, the twins were a better choice for her.

            She just grinned back at them and got right down to business. “Ron and I want to participate in the battle at Hogwarts. Is there any way you can help us?”

            The twin she suspected to be George glared down at her sternly. “Now that would be terribly irresponsible of us! How could we possibly let our under-aged brother and his friends onto a dangerous battlefield?”

            “I agree with you George, it would make us terribly careless big brothers if we were to leave a bright pink umbrella portkey that happened to be connected to Hogwarts lying about. What would mother say?” And with that, the pair apparated away in a purple puff of smoke.

            “Those rat bastards! They know we could help!” Ron raged as the smoke began to disperse.

            “Oh shut up Ron! They are helping us, you twit. Look, a bright pink umbrella,” Hermione said, pointing to the place where they twins had previously been standing. There was indeed a neon umbrella, precariously balanced and standing upright, in Fred and Georges place.

            “Oh, well, right then… they didn’t happen to mention when it would be leaving?” Ron asked, ashamedly as he bent over to retrieve Fred and George’s gift.

            “For the love of Merlin, Ronald, you told me yourself that the battle wouldn’t be for a few days! I think it’s logical to assume the umbrella will leave right before the battle starts. The rush of Order members, in and out of the Burrow, should be adequate warning,” Hermione snapped, finally losing her patients with the dullest Weasley. At this point she would have even preferred Percy.

A/N: Don’t forget to review! Thanks.
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Lost Phoenix