Fic: No Hiding Place book Four: The Cupboard Under The Stairs (2/32)

[sua_lay]

Title: No Hiding Place: Book Four: The Cupboard Under the Stairs (2/32)
Author: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Four: -Before you can go forward, you must face your past. Sins of the father may bury the son. Harry will find out if a dog really is the man's best friend.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, mention of het rape, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes, angst and a partridge in a pear tree.

The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.

Part 2

It was past dinner time when the three Gryffindors were finally able to floo into Hogwarts.

Waiting for the floo to open again hadn't been too bad. They'd had a lot to talk about, things to reminisce. The cupboards in the kitchen had been refilled during the night and Ron was still ecstatic by the fact that the bathroom inside was fully functional. Everything was just fine.

Harry watched Hermione disappear into the fireplace and sighed. Staying here for the night had been a prolonged transition between a dream and something that could well be a nightmare.

The exams, the war. Leaving Hogwarts behind. People milling around him, expecting him to actually know things about battle strategies, reporters haunting his every step. Well wishers and those who hated him for his fame.

It was definitely not something he was looking forward to.

He tried very hard not to think about the other things waiting for him at Hogwarts. Or not waiting. Hermione had been unable to tell him anything more about Dumbledore's summoning, so he didn't even know if Snape would be at the school.

Harry hoped he'd be there, but considering how the universe always seemed to enjoy watching him fall on his face, he wasn't too optimistic about it.

"I think you should go first." Gesturing at the fireplace, Ron stood back and waited. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Harry behind alone.

Harry tried to smile in response, but couldn't produce more than a twitch on his lips. Grabbing some of the floo powder, he stepped into the fireplace and stated, "Hogwarts!" Then he felt being pulled through space.

He managed not to stumble as he stepped out of the fireplace, coughing as his lungs objected the soot flying around him. The hero had returned! What an undignified way to come back to the one place he'd always considered as home.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just out of practice." Harry managed a smile. He brushed the soot out of his robes without much enthusiasm.

Hermione looked doubtful, but let it go. A moment later the floo let out a wooshing sound, and then Ron stepped calmly out.

It was quiet in the huge Entrance Hall, no sounds of people coming from the staircase. Harry found that somehow unnerving, he was used to the silence, but not like this when it was still daytime and he wasn't sneaking around in the darkness, hiding underneath his invisibility cloak.

"So what do we do now?" Somehow even the air here felt different. Better. Ron was feeling all energetic. "Should we go and see Dumbledore, or do we just go upstairs?" He wondered if there was anything to eat in the Gryffindor tower. Probably not. Maybe they could call Dobby and have him bring them a snack.

A bit surprised that there was no one here to greet them already, Harry looked at Hermione.

"I don't know. About you, that is." She shrugged. "You'd probably better go to see the Headmaster." It was always the safest thing to do.

That made Ron stare. "What? Aren't you staying?" Bugger! Just when things were looking normal again.

"No. I need to go home. My mum and dad are waiting." After everything that had happened, Hermione was surprised they hadn't objected to her one extra day at school. Ever since they'd found out about the war in the wizarding world, they'd been acting overly protective. "They're... They worry." She didn't need to say anything else, they all understood that. "But I'll be back in a week or so."

She was a part of this. University would have to wait, there was no way in hell she'd abandon her friends now. This was her world as well, so the fight was hers too.

Harry stepped closer to her, hugging her tight. "I hate to see you go, but I understand why you have to." Hermione's parents were really nice, and he knew they missed her. "Owl us."

"I will." She hugged him back, wondering just when exactly had he become so mature about things. As she let him go, she could see that Ron was still disappointed about her leaving. "Stop sulking, Ron. It's only a week!"

Her exasperation was so familiar from their hours of studying together, Ron could do nothing but nod. The memory of spending time in the library did make him shiver too. Hiding the shiver by stepping closer and then pulling Hermione into a bone crunching embrace, he said, "Say hi to your mum for me!"

"Of course."

Harry and Ron watched her straighten her robes. They both sighed and then smiled at each other. For a short moment it had been like they were back in a less complicated life, when they had been together all the time, the Gryffindor trio.

Hermione grinned at the two of them, knowing exactly what they were thinking. "I'll see you in a few days then." She knew her parents would be worried about her future, and she needed these few days to try to calm them down.

"Take your time." It was strange, how wistful the notion of loving, worried parents could always make Harry. "We'll be fine. You make sure your family can handle you doing this now." He doubted the Muggles had any idea of what a war in the wizarding world really meant. It was a thing to be grateful of.

Nodding, Hermione hugged him, and then hugged Ron again. Grabbing her bag, she stepped back into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley!"

With a green flash she was gone.

Ron let the smile ooze away from his face. He was feeling crummy. Not sad, but tired. He hadn't slept too well and considering the dark smudges under Harry's eyes, he could bet that he hadn't either. "So you think we should go to see Dumbledore?" Going to the Gryffindor tower and to his bed sounded like a much better idea.

"I think so." Rubbing his neck, Harry looked at the stairs, wondering if they could postpone this. He wasn't in the mood for a meeting. "But..."

The sound of urgent footsteps stilled his words. A moment later a very familiar figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Professor McGonagall!" Ron wasn't surprised to see her here. Remembering how she'd looked when they'd left the castle, he wondered if she had some message for him from his family.

Minerva McGonagall nodded curtly. "Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter. Good to see you again." She paused for a moment before adding, "Please follow me." Her expression was tight, hiding any true emotion but her posture radiated anger and something else. Something darker.

"Yes, professor," Harry said meekly. Casting a worried glance at Ron, he padded up the stairs.

He couldn't help wondering what had caused such a welcome. Sure, the Head of their House could be abrupt, but usually she had a few kind words to them, especially after not seeing them for such a long time. A cold knot of fear started to coil in his stomach.

The slightly mellow and wistful mood had disappeared, leaving both him and Ron with the notion of doom.

There were so many things that could have gone wrong.

Trying to keep a firm hold on the panic, Harry followed McGonagall through the corridors, up the stairs. He knew already where they were headed. Exchanging yet another worried glance with Ron, he worked hard not to let his imagination paint various disaster scenarios in his mind.

"Phoenix!" Snapping the word out, McGonagall stood waiting until the gargoyle started to turn. Then she stepped on the stairs, letting them carry her upstairs with her two Gryffindors following in silence.

The door to the Headmaster's office was ajar. Still, McGonagall rapped her knuckles against the solid wood before pushing the door open. She stood back to let her students enter first.

As Harry stepped in, he cast a wary look at her, flinching as he saw the way her expression hadn't changed a bit. It looked like she was keeping a very tight control over some overwhelming emotion.

"Ah." The Headmaster's voice greeted them. "Come in, come in. I've been expecting for you." He sounded hushed as always.

Harry looked around the dimly lit room. He was accustomed to seeing at least a few members of the Order here most of the time. With only the Headmaster standing next to Fawkes who was dozing on his perch, it felt like the place was empty somehow.

It made him almost squirm with tension. This was not good. Not good at all.

Dumbledore looked weary, his hat was slightly askew, his gaze dull and lifeless. "Mr. Weasley. Your father is here, waiting for you." He gestured at the other end of the room, and as if planned, the door none of them had actually noticed there before opened, showing Mr. Weasley.

"Oh. Okay." Something seemed to make Ron hesitant, as if he could feel something wasn't right. He walked to the door slowly.

"Minerva. I think you should go with him." It was said gently, with some hint of regret.

She simply nodded, herding her student towards the doorway.

The warning feeling was prickling at the back of Harry's neck. He could still remember his dream, the vivid sense of warning and fear. "Is everything all right?" He glanced at the Headmaster.

The expression on the old man's face froze him.

He didn't even realize that the door had closed behind Ron. All he could see were the clear blue eyes that had unnatural seriousness in them.

"You'd better sit down, Harry." Holding out his hand, Dumbledore guided him towards a chair. The gesture was ominous. "There are some things I need to tell you."

Harry sat down obediently, not thinking his legs could hold him up. Whatever had happened was awful. "What happened?" Images of terror flashed through his mind, the cold feeling grabbing his stomach tighter. "Snape?" There was only puzzlement in Dumbledore's eyes, but it was a brief relief. "Where is Sirius?" It was the worst thing he could think of.

If Voldemort had realized that he was living with Remus, the Death Eaters would have attacked him, the only person in the world he loved as a parent, unconditionally. He was quite sure he would lose the sometimes tenous grip on his sanity if he lost Sirius as well; it would be too much.

Harry's mind was filling with mindless babble.

"He is fine. Harry! Sirius is fine."

Dumbledore's voice seemed to pierce the panic. Harry looked up, feeling enormously relieved. The expression on the wrinkly face brought the panic back, though. "Then what happened?"

Sitting down on the couch, Dumbledore sighed. "Last night, the Death Eaters launched several attacks on our people. They attacked the grounds, Hogsmeade, Ottery St. Catchpole and..." He paused for a moment, shoulders hunched. "They also attacked some Muggles, including your aunt and uncle's house."

Harry stared. His eyes felt hot, burning, but he could not blink.

"I'm sorry, but... Your aunt was killed in the raid." There was nothing but sympathy in Dumbledore's voice.

Air was suddenly thick, too thick to breate, and Harry concentrated on taking in air, careful not to suffocate.

"There were no casualties on the grounds, even though I'm afraid Hagrid's hut burned to the ground. Some of our people were also injured." What a clinical way to describe utter chaos that had reigned in the castle. "Remus Lupin was stabbed with a silver knife, but he is recovering from the wound at St. Mungo's."

There was a memory of a howl ringing in Harry's ears, replaced by soft humming. As if the silence was too much.

He shook his head, trying to chase away the strange sensations. Focusing his gaze on Dumbledore, he tried to understand just what exactly he'd just heard. Aunt Petunia was dead, killed in their mindless war. And Remus had been stabbed. Hagrid had no home. People were hurt. "But..."

Something wasn't right here. He cast a look at the now closed door on the other side of the room. Why would he need to be alone to hear this? Ron could have been told this too.

Dumbledore's words came back, and with them, the suffocating feeling almost overwhelmed him. "No. Oh no!"

Ottery St. Catchpole. The Burrow.

The Death Eaters had attacked the Burrow.

"I am sorry."

"Oh no! No, damn it, no...." Bile was rising to Harry's mouth. This couldn't be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare. Any moment now, he'd wake up and things would be the way they had been. He didn't want to hear any more.

Waiting for an opportunity to cut through the pained words, Dumbledore sat there. Then he said quietly, "I know how much the Weasleys mean to you. I truly am sorry."

Harry was lost in the confusion. He'd seen Arthur Weasley; he was all right and so was Ron. But the Death Eaters had attacked their home, Voldemort had attacked people he loved.

Unable to recognize the steely tone as his own, he asked, "Who?"

"I'm afraid they killed Fred Weasley, and Penelope Clearwater-Weasley. Charlie Weasley is at St. Mungo's. He is in a curse-induced coma."

Fred? It didn't make any sense. Fred was dead? How could Fred be dead? He was a part of George, the other half of the duo that had always seemed inseparable. And Penelope? She and Percy hadn't been married for even a year.

He had been there, at the wedding. He had been there, watching the usually so reserved young man smile brightly at his bride. It had been a small ceremony with only the family and a few close friends. He had been invited there. And now she was dead.

Like Fred. And Aunt Petunia. All dead. Charlie lying in the hospital, cursed. Maybe lost forever. Gone, like so many others.

Because of him.

It was always because of him, his fault that people around him died and went away. There was something in him that made all his loved ones targets.

He stared at the old wizard in front of him, waiting for the rest of it, because there were always more awful things happening. Still because of him.

Dumbledore's voice was gentle as he leaned closer to Harry. "I'm sorry. Your godfather is still in St. Mungo's with Remus. He would probably want to be here, but..." He spread his hands, refusing to finish the sentence.

They both knew what he meant anyway. Sirius wasn't mentally fit to leave Remus' bedside right now.

"I understand." Harry nodded. "Was there anything else?" There was no sign of any emotion in his voice, the syllables dropping coolly out of his mouth. He felt an odd detached fascination at the whole thing, amazed to be so in control when the whole world spun out of sanity and reason.

Maybe it was best to let the boy go to the Gryffindor tower and drown his sorrow into his solitude. Dumbledore knew that even though Harry was still technically a student, he would look through his fingers if a certain strong willed house elf happened to visit the dormitory with something stronger than simple tea.

This was the time to mourn. All Harry's friends were gone, his family out of range, so he would have to deal with this on his own.

It made Dumbledore wish there'd been another way. To raise the small baby with the lightning -shaped scar in a wizarding family with parents who would love the boy, to give him a real childhood, a real life. His decision had been the only one possible, but he still regretted it sometimes.

"No." Shaking his head, Dumbledore watched Harry walk to the door. This was not what he'd envisioned all those years ago when Hagrid had brought the small bundle to Privet Drive. He'd never thought the boy would grow up to be so alone.

Even he could not see everything, wasn't omniscient. A fact that pained him now more than he could say.

Before Harry could open the door, Dumbledore said quietly, "I will be here if you ever need anything." Not that he really thought Harry would come to him. He'd never taken that option.

Harry didn't even glance over his shoulder. He simply walked out of the Headmaster's offices.

Everything happened slowly and without a sound. The staircase rolled back down, the gargoyle turning as soon as he stepped on the stairs. He moved as if in a haze, not bothering to wait till the huge statue was back in its place again.

He didn't really think about what he was doing or where he was going. Leaving Dumbledore's offices had been a reflex, a need to run away from a place that was destroying him. Now he had nowhere to run.

The corridor stretched before him. Suddenly he was reminded of all the other nights he'd walked through the hallways, his vision usually blurred by the thin fabric of his invisibility cloak.

It was quiet in here. Lonely. All the other students had left and even though there were still teachers here, they were probably too busy in their own chambers. There would be no one in the dormitories, no sounds of his friends breathing in the dark, no one to watch, no one to talk with. Hogwarts, his home, seemed as empty and uninviting as a tomb.

Harry swallowed. He couldn't take another step. Couldn't stand even the thought of going to the dormitory, where all the shadows couldn't hide him from the pain he felt inside. Ron should be there with him, they should be together angsting over the exams. Instead, his friend was with his family, the Weasleys all gathering to mourn together.

While he was here all alone.

It was as if the whole world was turning into ice. His world. The world that had never given him a chance. Everything he'd ever cared about had turned into ashes.

He didn't want to be here. Couldn't handle being all alone, not again. He missed his family; Sirius and Remus and Ron and most of all...

"Come on, Potter." A quiet voice came from somewhere behind him. "Come with me."

Harry spun around, shocked to hear the familiar dry tone. "Snape!"

He couldn't believe he was actually seeing the man. Snape was supposed to be doing something important somewhere. This wasn't vital, this was just overwhelming pain. He was used to it.

Mouth open, he could only stare.

A soft sigh echoed in the corridor. Surprisingly, the sound held no impatience. "Come with me. You can spend the night in the dungeons."

That sounded so good. The dungeons, his dungeons. Harry nodded, unable to think about anything beyond the fact that he was going to the dungeons with Snape. Focusing on that, he took a few steps down the corridor, hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence as he heard the footsteps following him.

Snape stayed close by as Harry staggered towards the dungeons, making sure he would be there to catch him if he fell. There was nothing he could say to change things right now, so he stayed quiet.

His mind was in turmoil. This was not what was supposed to happen. The deaths and Harry's state were tragic, but expected; the Death Eaters were bound to attack one day. What better way to devastate the enemy than to do it right now when things looked almost good? This was exactly how Lucius and his Master would have orchestrated the whole thing.

It made Snape so mad at himself and the Order. They had all known something like this would happen, yet they'd been unprepared. He'd been too busy working on the personatus potion. The others had been too busy celebrating.

Hearing that people had been killed hadn't exactly been a shock, but he'd been unable to stay in the dungeons. Not because there was anything he could do for those who had passed away, but because he knew how this would hit Harry.

He had come here as soon as he'd been able to. Learning that Black was away at the hospital, he'd surmised that there might be a chance of Harry needing someone right then. Seeing the young man stand all alone in the corridor with a completely shattered expression had been worse than his worst fears. It had filled him with something very close to real anger. The defender of their world, the exalted Harry Potter? It was a joke. A young man left all alone in the night to mourn.

What a weird thing. He'd acted on instinct, as if the notion of protecting Harry was so ingrained into his mind that he couldn't really do anything else. He was honest enough with himself to know that was just half the truth. He had acted before he could really reason his actions.

Coming back here tonight had very little to do with protecting the figurehead leader of the Order. It was about making sure Harry survived through the night.

They had to wait for a moment as the staircases moved slowly to lead downstairs. Snape could sense someone staring at him and since Harry's gaze was still out of focus, it had to be someone else. Looking up, he saw Minerva McGonagall standing on a parapet, looking down with a sad expression on her face.

He nodded gravely, but didn't say anything.

When their staircase finally arrived, Harry stepped on it without looking up. His mind was blank, everything around him a blur. His feet moved slowly, taking him down towards the peace and quiet of the dungeons. It was a route he knew by heart.

The hallways down there were dark and empty. A softly spoken word from Snape lit a few torches along the way but Harry didn't care. He simply walked on, with the sounds of their footsteps echoing hollowly in the corridors. It was easy to concentrate solely on that.

So easy, that Harry almost walked past the door leading to Snape's quarters. A hand on his shoulder led him through the doorway.

Silence. Darkness. Familiar scents all around him. He swayed a bit, finally feeling like he was safe. Warm arms came around him immediately, pressing him against soft robes.

Harry was starting to shiver. It was insane. The dungeons might look cold, the Potions classroom freezing during the winter, but it was actually quite warm in here. Especially when Snape was holding him so close.

"Take off your robes." His voice uncharacteristically soft, Snape added, "Let's put you to bed."

That was a good idea, it would definitely be warmer in bed. Harry moved woodenly, trying to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible. Sleeping sounded good. Maybe when he woke up, all this pain and insanity would be gone, fading away like a bad dream.

Snape watched him struggle with his robes. When it started to look like Harry would just get entangled in his clothes, he helped him to undress. The robes fell to the floor, neither man caring enough to actually pick them up.

When Harry was in his underwear, he stood there in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do next. He glanced at the chair he'd slept in so long ago, wondering if Snape had meant that he would spend the night there. He'd settle to that if he had to as long as he didn't have to go to Gryffindor tower and be completely alone.

"Come on."

Harry looked up. He didn't say anything, just allowed Snape to guide him to his bedroom. He'd only been here twice, months ago, first helping exhausted Snape to bed, then peeking in a couple of hours later to see if he was all right. It hadn't been like this, though.

His mind was focusing on details; the bare walls, the large wardrobe with doors carved full of intricate symbols, the small table by the bed, a chair not far from it. At least there was a plush carpet here, it felt nice under his bare feet. The bed wasn't as wide as the one in the cottage. Not as soft either. He allowed Snape to push him down, sighing as the heavy blankets were pulled up to his chin.

Lying there, he watched Snape walk out of the room. He wanted to call him back, but simply couldn't find the strength. Eyes wide, he stared at the doorway, wondering what he was supposed to do right now. It was still so damn cold.

The sound of toilet being flushed came from the bathroom, followed by water running down the drain. Then soft footsteps approached the door. Harry sighed with relief as Snape walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He couldn't turn his gaze away from the man. He watched him place his wand on the nightstand and then undress. With slow movements, Snape folded his clothes over a small chair before walking to the bed. When the mattress dipped, he moved a bit to the side to make room for Snape. After a softly whispered 'nox', the room turned completely dark. There was nothing to see, but he still couldn't close his eyes.

Snape's presence so close to him was strangely familiar yet strange, the sound of him breathing was unnaturally loud in his ears. It was as if the world around had disappeared, leaving only this small corner intact. There was the mattress and the blanket. The touch of Snape's leg against his. Nothing else existed in this frozen space.

No sounds. No thoughts. A perfect place with nothing to see nothing to remember. Such a cold existence. Frozen, like he was.

"I heard about your aunt."

Harry didn't move. He could hear Snape sigh, but he just couldn't react to the sound because it would make everything real.

"I gather you weren't close, but it's still never easy to lose a relative." It came out awkwardly, as if such compassionate words were alien to Snape. They probably were.

Why couldn't Snape just shut up? Harry wanted to scream and shout at him, but couldn't find the energy. Maybe Snape would stop talking if he was quiet and didn't react to his words.

There was a short silence. Then Snape said hollowly, "I'm sorry. For your aunt and for the Weasleys."

Harry swallowed.

He didn't want Snape to be sorry, he just wanted everyone to be alive and well. Even Aunt Petunia; his blood relative whom he couldn't grieve at all. Not like Fred. Not like.... Feeling like he was about to choke, he let out a sob.

It was followed by others.

Sighing, Snape moved closer and then wrapped his arms reluctantly around Harry. The strong body against his seemed to melt into his embrace immediately. He didn't say anything as the tremors began, simply held Harry tighter.

The only sounds in the small room were Harry's harsh intakes of breath. He didn't really cry out loud, even as his whole body shook with the power of his sobs. After a while he felt like suffocating as he couldn't get enough air with his face buried into Snape's shoulder, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything.

Snape stared into the darkness, ignoring the damp feeling on his shoulder. He had no idea what to do, besides holding Harry. There had been moments he'd informed his Slytherins of losses -- a memory he pushed away, not needing to concentrate on the vacant look on Gregory Goyle's eyes right now -- but no one had ever sought consolation in his arms.

Not that there would have been any even if someone had wanted it; Snape did not let people close to him like that. There were always others to deal with support and he could keep his distance.

He refused to analyze his current actions, relying on instinct only.

Words would have no meaning now, they would sound false, unfounded. He wasn't sure about touches either. Simple comforting touch was not really a part of his routine. In his world, physical closeness always led to either sex or violence. Sometimes both at the same time.

When the sobs didn't seem to recede, he started running his hand slowly up and down Harry's spine.

It felt soothing to him. From the lessening shaking, he thought it must feel like that to Harry as well. Since he had nothing else to do, he kept rubbing Harry's back until he relaxed completely.

---

Comments

[haunted-snow.livejournal.com]

~sniff~ Excellent as always. I certainly wasn't expecting them to come back and find people had died. Love a comforting Snape! Harry's feelings through this book, from Snape and he having to part to Ron's lack of sensitivity (IMO) to the deaths and his reactions, were really felt throughout. I choked up reading this chapter.

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

I know! It's definitely not easy being Harry. *sigh* And this is just the beginning...

*mopes*

[wolfsbride.livejournal.com]

Not that there would have been any even if someone had wanted it; Snape did not let people close to him like that. There were always others to deal with support and he could keep his distance.

Eh hem. Yes. That would be why he has a Harry shaped blob in his arms. Good grief the man is not only a Master of Potions; he's also a Master of Denial. The way he's going he'll probably qualify for a PhD by the end of the story.

*snoogles*

I hope you come online soon. Otherwise I'll have to resort to working. El gaspe!

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

Well, you know what's going to happen and how they deal with it so :P. And he is a Professor after all. A Potions&Denial master or something...

No onliness today, sweety. Am working. *hates*

[xikum.livejournal.com]

I waited until this one was done and the next begun to start reading it.
Poor Harry!! Must be so very wierd to have so little feeling for his blood relative, and such sadness for the chosen family members who were killed, yet not be included with them to grieve with them as one of them. DAMN! his self-blame - SOmehow, Someway, he needs to uderstand that it is completely, absolutely, unequivocally Voldemort, not himself, who is at fault for these deaths!! And Snape - He has good instincts, glad to see he listened this time, rather than letting the side that thinks more negatively win.

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

Always a good idea to wait, just in case the author drops the fic... Which isn't unheard of. :D

Yeah, I think the worst part is that Harry can't really grieve her, so he feels guilty and messed up. :( It'll take the poor dear considerably longer time than the period of which the fic describes to really understand that he's not to blame. I kind of have faith in him realizing it one day.

:) Snape is so totally on his way to being insanely in love with Harry and it's funny to watch how stubbornly he's trying to tell himself he's just doing things because...er.. some weird logic.