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The Nothing I've Become (Areas of Expertise II)	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 18628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
-- So far I've avoided leaving author's notes, mainly cos this is such an angst filled story I didn't want any ease up from it, however I did want to thank my wonderful reviewers, especially Bored who, despite not liking parts of Areas I has come back for another dose, and has been so complimentary! My thanks also to everyone who has left a comment - including my reviewer who got the song ref! If you don't know Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life" I really recommend you listen to it - it covers exactly what Harry is going through!
-- At the moment I am trying to establish the character's relationships with each other, and how they are coping (or, in some cases, not coping) with the trauma of what happened at the end of Areas I. We shall shortly be moving into the main bulk of the story. Hope you stick around. SP

Chapter Five - Without a Soul, my Spirit Sleeping Somewhere Cold

Harry opened his eyes on a dark room. The only light came from a small window. He wasn't afraid. He knew there was no reason to be. He was safe, he was in his arms-

He looked at the man beside him: black hair spread across the pillow; thin lips open slightly, letting the warm breath tickle against Harry's neck; pale skin glowing where the light touched it, but also created deep valleys of shadows where lines were permanently etched.

Harry didn't want to move. He knew he was safe. Safe and happy.

The older man tightened his grip briefly, murmuring something under his breath, then one black eye opened. For a moment it was hazy with sleep, but soon the onyx sharpened and he took in the boy lying at his side.

'Morning brat,' he said softly, pressing his forehead against Harry's back to hide the yawn he was giving.

'Sleep well, git?' Harry asked, a smile tugging at his mouth, but he suppressed it.

'Moderately,' the Slytherin replied, 'as someone kept elbowing me during the night.'

Harry grinned unrepentantly. 'You were the one who wore me out last night. So it's your fault I didn't go back to my own bed.'

Snape woke abruptly. This wasn't his dream. It was too much about Harry's feelings. He was dreaming Harry's dreams. Or was it a memory of the boy's? Had this happened? He cast his mind back over the months they had spent together, trying to recall a morning like that one. He couldn't.

How is this possible? I cannot dream his dreams. He shook his head, hoping to dislodge the uncomfortable memory. He didn't want to feel how Harry might have felt in his arms. He no longer had the option of holding the boy; would likely never have that option again.

His heart clenched. His daughter - beautiful Sapphire lost. Even now, weeks later, he still couldn't quite believe his loss.

After the battle he had tried to find out who had cast the spell that had hit Harry, but all of those who could lay to it were doing so. Even subtly infiltrating their minds hadn't worked, as everything had been so confused that each genuinely believed he had struck the fatal blow; the blow that had so pleased Voldemort; the blow that had ripped Severus' world apart.

The blow that ruins any chance of reconciliation between us.

He set his face grimly. He would mourn his daughter, and his lost happiness in his own way - by helping to bring down the cause of his suffering. Already he suspected that a coup was planned at Hogwarts, and that a new head teacher would be installed. It didn't take a genius to work out that he would probably be made head. After all, Voldemort trusted him, he was a teacher, he had worked at the school for years and therefore knew the staff well. He was, in short, the perfect choice. Yet, during meetings with the Dark Lord (whatever the other demanded of him) he ensured he revealed none of his private thoughts. Over confidence had landed a number of followers in trouble. Snape had no intention of making the same mistake.

***

'Happy birthday, Harry!' Hermione called, entering Ron's room, her eyebrows lifting at the sight of Ron dangling half out of his bed, the sheets barely covering him.

'Bloody hell!' he yelped, waking abruptly and tugging the covers safely over him. He glared at Hermione, who ignored him, smiling sweetly at Harry.

Harry sat up in bed, a smile on his lips. The same smile that he had given for weeks now: a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Sighing internally, Hermione sat on her friend's bed and handed him a wrapped parcel. 'I hope you like it.' She said softly.

Something in her tone worried Ron. He coughed to get her attention. She turned to face him and read the expression on his face. She smiled softly, shaking her head at him, then returned her focus to the birthday boy.

Harry carefully pulled the paper off. That was another thing that had changed. Harry had always been so wary of losing his gifts that paper had been ripped off in seconds. Now though, he took the time to read the message before neatly sliding his finger into a gap and breaking the spellotape.

A picture frame fell out. The frame was red and gold - the Gryffindor colours, and along the bottom edge was a broomstick. In the frame was a collection of photographs of the three of them, some taken in first year, others later, and some very recent. In them all, the trio were smiling and linking arms, or grinning and shoving playfully at each other, or sitting beaming, books and belongings spread about them.

Harry felt his throat tighten looking at the images. For a long moment he was silent, then in a husky voice he said, 'Thanks, Hermione.'

He may have said little, but Hermione seemed pleased with his response and hugged him. 'You'd better get dressed. Mrs Weasley's got loads of presents for you!'

Harry smiled. Almost a genuine smile this time and prepared to get out of the bed.

***

'Now, we all know the rumours. What do we do about them? Do we stay, or leave?' Minerva McGonagall stared around at the assembled teachers. It may have been a holiday, but the news that Voldemort planned to take over the school had come to them and she had called an emergency staff meeting, trying to gauge their reactions. She knew what she herself intended to do ' she would remain and protect the students as best she could, but she quite understood if younger staff did not wish to place themselves so directly against the Dark Lord.

Madam Pince, herself only a few years Minerva's junior, looked angry. 'I'm staying,' she said determinedly, 'I won't let those ... those ...' words failed her, '… on my books.'

A few of her colleagues suppressed smiles. Those who had been students whilst she had been librarian understood her passion for her books. As students, several had been shooed from the library for their disrespect. As colleagues, they had received disapproving glares if any suspected damage had been inflicted.

Hagrid spoke up, black eyes shining with tears, as they had done ever since Dumbledore's death. 'I'll remain, headmis'ress. It's wha' Dumble..' his chin wobbled and those closest moved hastily away. In his grief, Hagrid tended to flail. He mastered himself with difficulty. 'I'll stay. Dunno how lon' it'll be be fer they kick me ou', but I'll stay fer now.'

She nodded, silently thanking him for the unwavering loyalty he had always shown the school.

Professor Flitwick perked up, 'What of the Potions post?' he piped.

A curious tension filled the air. None of those present liked to think of the previous Potions master - the one who had worked alongside them for years, and who had, after all, been a traitor and a murderer.

Minerva's face set. 'I have no doubt that that post has already been filled, but one of his followers. Those of us who remain must do all we can to ensure our pupils are treated fairly.' She glanced around the room. 'If any of you wish to leave, but do not wish to speak now, please see me after the meeting. I am pleased that some of us will be here to calm the excesses that are sure to take place with this new stage in the war.' She sighed weightily. How she missed Albus at times, he had always known how to inspire others. She knew she was a poor substitute for his brilliance. 'We must do what we can, especially, to protect Harry Potter - should he return, and the other students who are not Slytherins. I trust I can rely on you all to assist me?' she took her time looking about the room, gauging each individual's reaction carefully. Some looked, rightly, frightened, but in each was a hard core of determination and resistance. She was reasonably sure that none would speak to her privately after the meeting, withdrawing their support.

At that moment an owl fluttered into the room. It deposited its letter and flew away. Automatically, Minerva reached for it and opened the parchment.

The others watching her saw the colour vanish form her face, leaving her worryingly grey, then seconds later she was burning red, eyes flashing with rage.

'No! Assuredly not!' she blazed, her accent thickening in her fury. 'I shall not accept this! This betrayal and acceptance of that ... that MURDERER as our leader. I shall not.'

Fear began to grip the others at her words. What they feared was true: Severus Snape, liar, traitor, spy, murderer, was returning to Hogwarts as its head. Snape, that representation of all they had lost filling the seat that for so long Dumbledore had filled. His sneering face with its cold black eyes staring out at the children, punishing those who weren't Slytherin?

Tumult broke out.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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The Nothing I've Become (Areas of Expertise II)