Fic: No Hiding Place book Four: The Cupboard Under The Stairs (24/32)

[sua_lay]

Title: No Hiding Place: Book Four: The Cupboard Under the Stairs (24/32)
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 24

Walking into the kitchen next morning, Ron almost had a heart attack.

It was the second time since waking up. The first shock had been seeing Hermione's face on the pillow when he'd opened his eyes. He'd almost screamed in panic when he'd inched away and felt someone nuzzling against his back.

For a brief moment he'd thought he'd lost his mind. Then the memory of last night's grief had returned.

No, he hadn't just had a very weird threesome with Harry and Hermione. Sitting up, he revised his thoughts as he saw Remus Lupin curling with the furry form of Snuffles at the bottom of the bed. No, there had definitely not been an orgy in his room.

He'd tried to find the ridiculous thought funny as he'd sneaked out of the room and showered, but he couldn't really smile about anything right now. His chest felt too tight, like things inside had turned into led.

A friend had betrayed them.

By the time he was finished with the shower, Harry was up as well, and they shared a wan "Morning," as they met in the hallway. Ron grabbed his clothes quietly, not wanting to wake anyone else up and then dressed up in Harry's room. It was nothing they hadn't done a thousand times and for a moment it had almost been as if they were still at Hogwarts, away from all this insanity.

The sound of pots and pans being moved on the stove greeted him downstairs, and he'd hurried to the kitchen before Harry to see if breakfast was ready. He hoped the house elves wouldn't cast glares at him, but the thought of being disapproved once again didn't curb his enthusiasm.

He felt like he hadn't eaten in ages.

Opening the kitchen door, he stumbled on his feet, staring at the achingly familiar form bustling around the oven, ignoring the way Eppy was standing in the corner, muttering to herself.

"Mum?" What was she doing here?

Molly Weasley dropped the spatula she'd been holding and rushed to hug her youngest son. She didn't say anything, simply held him.

Hearing Ron had been involved in a real battle had almost been too much for her. Even though she'd sworn never to do this, never to leave her home to enter this war zone, the news had broken her resolve.

"Mum? Is everything all right?" Worried by the way she simply clung to him, Ron pulled back a little.

"Yes. Yes, everything's all right." Molly nodded vigorously, still not letting go. She had been so worried! The thought of losing another child to this insane war had been more than she could handle.

Harry had frozen at the doorway as Ron had rushed to hug his mother. He didn't know if he was welcome here, the feeling forming a lump in his throat.

Squeezing her son one more time, Molly whispered, "I was so worried!"

Ron patted her back awkwardly. "It's okay, mum. We're all right." He managed to squeeze out the lie easily.

"Oh, Ronald..." Sounding almost chiding, Molly let go and stared into her son's eyes,not liking the look there. Her little one had grown too fast, like all her children had. She opened her mouth to tell him it was all right and then her gaze focused on the boy still standing in the doorway.

There was a brief silence as she stared at Harry Potter.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry muttered when the silence became strained.

Molly stepped away from Ron and then squeezed a wan little smile to her lips. "Harry." Hesitating for a moment, she made an abortive gesture with her hand.

"I..." Harry didn't have the faintest idea what to say. She was here, but it was clear that everything had changed between them. Once, he'd been a welcome guest, almost a member of the family. Now he had no idea what he was.

"Oh, Harry." Sighing, Molly repeated the gesture, this time making it clear that she really did want him to come to her. "I'm so sorry for not coming to see you earlier." There was honesty in her voice, but it still sounded slightly forced.

Harry couldn't do anything but nod, his mind filled with conflicting emotions, mostly pain and guilt, but also doubt and hesitation. He'd been so certain Mrs. Weasley would never want to see him again, and now she was here, holding her arms out.

There was no choice for him, the guilt he'd barely buried forced him to take the first step. The second one was much easier, and then he was hugging her.

He didn't feel like crying like back at Hogwarts when he'd first seen the Weasleys after hearing the news. He didn't feel happy and relieved either. It was weird.

Everything had changed, not only yesterday when a friend had turned into an enemy, but months ago. Harry knew how he should react to this, but for some reason he couldn't really feel any of those emotions.

It was almost frightening, because no matter how he didn't like experiencing the pain and horror, he definitely didn't want to become an unfeeling monster either.

Carefully, he let go and wasn't surprised to feel Mrs. Weasley step back as well.

Harry flinched when he saw the sadness in her blue eyes. There weren't accusations in her gaze, but he couldn't help wondering if deep inside Mrs. Weasley was thinking, 'You let my son die!'

"I'm sorry." It was not nearly enough, but it was all he could say.

For a moment Molly looked like she didn't know what to say either. Then she blinked, the sadness melting into a sheen of unshed tears. "I know, dear." She cleared her throat. "Tea?"

Harry nodded, glad of having the chance to at least pretend everything was normal again.

Some time later, Remus came downstairs to get breakfast for three. He talked quietly to Mrs. Weasley while brewing coffee, not looking at all surprised to see her here, confirming Harry's suspicions of how she'd got in the house in the first place. Remus didn't linger for long, placing plates and utensils on the tray and then nodded quietly to Harry before disappearing upstairs again.

It was somewhat of a relief to have him look after Hermione. Harry didn't even begin to imagine what it must like to have someone so close betray one's trust so completely; Remus and Sirius would know. They could probably relate to her better than anyone else in the world.

Trying to swallow his tea without choking on it, Harry cringed.

If there was a worst case scenario -- not counting Voldemort winning of course -- this was it. He'd never wanted his friends to face anything like this.

He had no idea what to say or do, a quick glance at Ron confirmed that he wasn't the only one. Maybe there was nothing to say, really. Just to be there for each other and try to survive the war.

Sipping the tea, Harry had to wonder why it had suddenly lost its flavor.

The front door opening and closing sounded quiet, but everyone still flinched at that. Harry wasn't too worried, knowing that their wards should hold, but he still moved his hand slightly towards his wand.

Seeing Draco Malfoy walk slowly into the kitchen made him sigh with relief. "Malfoy. Hi."

"Good morning, Potter." Draco swayed on his feet slightly. "Weasley." He barely glanced at Ron, realizing there was a third person in the room only when he almost walked into Molly Weasley. He blinked, feeling blood drain from his face. "Mrs. Weasley."

"How is Blaise?" Ignoring the way the Weasleys were looking, Harry kept his gaze on Malfoy. The poor guy looked like he hadn't slept all night.

Draco sighed, his eyes clouding over for a moment. "He'll live." He didn't know what else to say. Only time would tell how Blaise would deal with all this.

There was nothing Harry could say to that.

"I'll just..." Looking at the table longingly, Draco couldn't help wondering if he should just go upstairs and sleep. He was more hungry than sleepy, but staying here with the Weasleys wasn't really an option.

Mrs. Weasley made the decision easy for him. She had already tensed, her gaze filling with almost blind fury when she'd seen Malfoy. She didn't say anything, simply walked past Malfoy, careful that her robes didn't brush against him.

As if he was somehow filthy.

Rushing after his mother, Ron missed the look of utter devastation on the Slytherin's face. Harry however saw the expression clearly from where he stood. He couldn't help staring at the raw emotion showing on Malfoy, a far cry from the usual haughty expression.

He still couldn't figure Malfoy out. There had been moments when he'd almost seemed like a decent person but right after that he'd usually said or done something to show that the git he'd known for almost seven years had not disappeared anywhere. Malfoy was a conniving bastard, but he'd done more to help them than the Minister for Magic himself, gaining no praises or rewards in return.

Right now, Harry could only see someone who was in pain. He was amazed that he could see it so clearly in Malfoy's eyes instead of the calmness or the slight mockery shining there.

"Do you want some tea?" Purposefully, he turned to grab the teapot, giving Malfoy some time to regain his composure.

"Sure." The answer was quiet.

Harry grabbed a clean cup and poured Malfoy tea before refilling his own cup. When he placed the pot back on the table and sipped his tea, he could see that the very familiar calm look was firmly back in place.

He wished he knew how to act around Malfoy. With Ron it would be easy; their friendship was solid enough to survive whatever emotional outburst would undoubtedly follow. Malfoy was different. Any kind words would be seen as pity and he was pretty sure it was the one thing Malfoy would never tolerate.

Remembering some of the first moments he'd ever spent down in the dungeons with Snape, he grabbed a sandwich and sat there, eating. The silence would have to do for now.

Finising with his tea, he finally muttered, "I should go to see how people are doing." He really didn't want to, but with the way Dumbledore had acted the previous day, he figured no one else was out there looking after the troops.

Draco looked up from his cup, his expression exhausted and yet determined. "Okay. I'll get some Pepperup Potion."

He felt slightly better and wished he could climb upstairs and collapse into bed, but knew far too well that he couldn't let Potter leave the house alone.

"You don't have to come," Harry said curtly and then regretted it a moment later. "I mean you should rest, Malfoy. Go to bed. I'll be fine."

The softening of Potter's tone came as a surprise that Draco let show for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I'm not that tired." He didn't know what made him insist it; it was either the fact that if he let Potter go alone there would be hell to pay, or pure Slytherin pride.

He didn't really care which it was.

Harry stared at the way Malfoy's jaw was set, all traces of the devastation gone. "Okay." If it made Malfoy feel better, he could tag along. "But do take the potion. I'm not gonna carry you when you collapse."

It was clear that was the right thing to say. Harry simply smiled at the glare Malfoy cast at him and then padded upstairs to tell Remus he would be right back.

The streets of Hogsmeade were half deserted, as if people were unsure it was safe to roam around. Those out there went about their business swiftly, casting furtive looks around until they noticed Harry.

Then they slowed down, looking relieved somehow; as if his mere presence was a safeguard against all evil.

Harry kept his gaze on the road, barely noticing even Malfoy's presence next to him.

He really didn't like the way people were looking at him; the sometimes hungry, sometimes speculative glances thrown at him whenever he came to a meeting were now worse than ever.

It was surreal. He was barely out of school, not even eighteen yet, and people seemed to think he was some kind of an idol -- not only a hero of the wizarding world, but someone everyone wanted a piece of. It was even more suffocating than the memory of long years spent alone in the cupboard under the stairs.

Sighing, Harry made his way through the streets, wishing he was still a student in Hogwarts. No matter how the other students had looked at him, there had been places where he had managed to be in peace; the dormitory, the dungeons.

He wondered what the people would do if he announced that he wanted to be left alone, that he didn't want to be their great big hero. It would probably create chaos, so not a good idea. Maybe he could at least say that he was not available all the time; that he had a private life that didn't concern anyone else.

Of course that would make everyone even more interested, trying to get the latest scoop on his personal affairs.

Snape had never said a word about keeping what was between them secret, but Harry was pretty sure he would prefer it that way. He thought it was infuriating at times, but didn't want to turn their growing companionship into a spectacle. Neither did he want people to fixate on Remus and Sirius, especially on Sirius.

Moving faster as he entered the Headquarters, Harry walked to the main conference room without stopping to answer greetings, simply nodding at those calling out his name. He wanted to get this over with. Yesterday's shock was still too real, and it had clearly been just a prelude to something bigger; they needed to be prepared for whatever would come next.

"Harry! Good to see you!" Arabella Figg nodded at him from across the room.

"Yeah." Unable to think of any polite lies to accompany his grunt, Harry simply nodded. At least her words seemed to be a general greeting, echoed in the murmurs coming all over the room.

"We're really sorry!" That came from a group of Ravenclaws, who were huddled together.

More assuring murmurs echoed in the room, none of them changing the way the Ravenclaws looked. Self flagellation didn't seem to be the exclusive right of Gryffindors.

Harry saw a brief flicker of satisfaction in Malfoy's eyes and couldn't even resent him for that. People hated Slytherins and treated them as monsters, but he saw those who betrayed friends as worse than Voldemort's most vocal supporter. Terry Boot and Peter Pettigrew were backstabbing bastards, and even now people were offering the Ravenclaws sympathy. Gryffindors were seen as heroes.

And everyone still hated the Slytherins.

"Don't be. It's not your fault that Boot turned evil." Harry didn't know what had turned him to Voldemort and probably never would, but it wasn't anyone else's fault.

Most of the Ravenclaws didn't look convinced.

There wasn't really anything that Harry could say or do to make anyone feel better. Even with all their logic, the Ravenclaws would probably blame themselves for all things that went bad for quite some time.

If that helped with their efforts in the war, then so be it.

Harry could see there were people gathered around the table, clearly waiting for him. A quick glance around the room told him that there should be no reason; all the Head of the Houses except for Snape were there, as was Dumbledore, sitting to the side with an ever present tea cup held firmly in his hands.

That made him almost growl. He hated this; people waiting for him like vultures and others playing their games. All he wanted was to grieve and be really angry and maybe kick a wall somewhere no one could see and here he had to put on a solemn face and listen. Probably talk about things rationally.

He didn't want to be rational. He was mad as hell! He was scared!

"Filius. Pomona." He nodded quietly at Flitwick and Sprout, barely registering the way his tongue didn't even falter over their names. With a few other greetings he moved to take his place at the table, glad that it was round instead of having a marked spot for their leader.

If there had been such a place, he was sure Dumbledore wouldn't be sitting there.

"Good morning, Harry. Potter." Gesturing ethusiastically, Sprout smiled at him and then slumped down again as she caught a glimpse of her colleague's sad face.

Harry sighed and turned to Flitwick before the small man could gather the courage to stutter anything. "I'm really
sorry for what happened yesterday, Filius." His sympathy wasn't faked. Like the Ravenclaws still huddling together near the doorway, the Head of their House looked absolutely devastated. "I don't think anyone could have seen that coming."

"That awful, awful boy!" Flitwick shook his head. Then he looked up again. "How is young Zabini? He's getting better, I hope?"

Seeing Malfoy tense where he was sitting by the wall, Harry had to close his eyes for a moment before he could say, "Unfortunately, I don't think there's anything they can do for his eyes. But he will live."

It made Flitwick flinch as if he'd hit him.

"There now, Filius." Professor Sprout patted his hand. "Severus is there with him. He will be all right."

Harry wished that were true.

"I do apologize," Flitwick muttered thickly. "I never thought..." He shook his head helplessly.

"No we never do. That's why it hits so hard, when it's the member of our House or a friend." Harry didn't want to even imagine what it was like for those who had actually considered Boot a friend, remembering all too well how it had hit Hermione. "But it was one man betraying us, acting for Voldemort, not for the House of Ravenclaw."

His words seemed to lift a mountain of guilt from countless of shoulders, the hesitant smiles across the room making something inside him shrivel up and die.

With quiet voice, he asked, "Is there a reason for a meeting today?"

He didn't want to talk about Terry Boot or House pride anymore.

McGonagall nodded. "We have heard from the Ministry; they will not conduct an inquiry over Mr. Boot's death." Her voice said it all, holding little respect towards their government.

"I see," Harry said. He had known it all along. "He did die in a battle and we are at war. Apparently..." His voice trailed off. Yes, Fudge apparently did see fit to leave all the fighting and dying to them, but he couldn't say it out loud.

After a short silence, McGonagall nodded. "Yes, apparently Mr. Doone from Honeyduke's was able to give a statement that Mr. Boot tried to hex you all with the killing curse before..."

"Before I killed him."

It was fortunate that Ron and Hermione were still at their house for Harry was certain they would have objected to his words if they were present. He could see from the corner of his eye that Malfoy didn't seem to be too happy with his words either. Tough. He'd just have to live with it.

There was excited muttering in the room, people looking both concerned and relieved.

McGonagall pursed her lips tight together but refused to comment on his words. For once, Harry was grateful for her angry silence.

"I wish we'd been able to stop him, but it was either hexing him or risking one of our own and in that situation there was no option." Harry didn't even have to lie. If it ever came to risking one of his friends or throwing an Unforgivable, it wasn't a real decision.

One of the Hufflepuffs raised a hand as if she was still in class even though she looked old enough to be a professor herself. "Mr. Potter... About the fighting... Is that how it will really be? Killing people?"

Harry stared at her, wishing they would stop asking that question. Wishing they would open their eyes and see that this wasn't something simple and nice and over before evening tea. "Yes."

"But... That's wrong." Her eyes were full of confusion. "Just like the Daily Prophet said about teaching people curses! That's wrong too."

Grimacing, Harry cast a look at Dumbledore who seemed to be overly interested in the contents of his cup. It was clearly a calculated evasion, pushing Harry not only to answer the words that were barely on this side of an accusation but to take the position he would never assume otherwise.

What was there to say? "I agree that killing is wrong. No one should ever be forced to take a life. But what else can you do when someone threatens you or your loved ones?"

It was the question he'd thought a lot, and he still couldn't say he had a solid answer to it. But he knew Voldemort, knew his people, and was absolutely certain that sometimes there simply was no other way.

Looking unconvinced, the witch raised her hand again. "But... The Prophet says that forming an army or a fight force is the worst thing that can happen to the wizarding world right now."

"No." Harry shook his head. "The worst thing that can happen to our world would be Voldemort gaining power over it. The Order isn't only about fighting. We must all learn how to use curses to defend ourselves, but also how to heal, to save lives."

The witch nodded hesitantly, but didn't look convinced. "What about afterwards? If we win the war... We'll have people who know how to use all these curses, who have used all these curses. Dark curses."

Harry knew what she was saying, knew she had a point. There would have to be a lot of time for counseling; mediwizards specialized in mind healing and maybe even calming potions on hand both during and after the war. And yes, some people would crack and try to harm themselves or others.

That was also the reality of war. If they weren't willing to face that, they could just as well surrender to the Death Eaters.

"So what do you suggest?" It came out a bit more harshly than Harry had intended. "That we send people to the battles unprepared? Or that we give up, and let Voldemort take over without a fight? For that is the alternative. This isn't about me facing him. It's about us facing them."

A complete silence filled the room. People were looking a bit shocked. They weren't used to hearing such blunt words from Harry Potter.

"No... No, that's not what I meant." Shaking her head, the woman who had started the conversation held up her hands in surrender. "I just... Is it wise to teach people about dark magic? And curses? Those things kill people."

Harry tried not to flinch. It was partly true, once you went too far you couldn't stop. Dark Magic was probably as seductive as Wild Magic, something he'd never try to really find out himself. He resented the idea that the blame could be shoved off so easily, though. It was like saying every bad decision ever made was actually under the imperius. "Dark magic and curses don't kill people. People kill people. Right now it's Death Eaters killing those who oppose them."

Some of the older Order members nodded openly at that, while others muttered quietly.

"So you're saying we should just kill them?"

Harry wished there had been people like this witch in the Ministry, or in the earlier Order meetings. Maybe then there would have been real discussion, real contemplation over ethics and the rights witches and wizards had to using curses that could kill.

He'd read about it all; could argue the issues from so many points of view it made his head spin. After the war, he might even have the time to reconcider the decisions he'd made. But not now.

"I don't want anyone here to think that our mission is to kill all the Death Eaters or even Voldemort himself," he said. "It's not. We're here simply to stop them."

Not moving her gaze away from his, the witch asked, "By any means necessary?"

"Yes. By any means necessary." The wizarding world had faced this enemy before. Harry was determined to make sure no one would ever have to fear Voldemort again.

There was a brief silence as everyone seemed to digest that.

"Like we stopped Terry Boot." Really glad that Ron and Hermione were not here, Harry said quietly, "No one wanted to kill him, but if I hadn't, he would have killed our people. There is a difference between killing because you have to and killing because you like to kill."

The witch nodded. "I guess there is." With that, she looked down at the floor and didn't turn her gaze back to Harry again.

There was some enthusiastic babble after that, people muttering opinions quietly to each other. Harry listened to it but didn't say anything. He had nothing to add.

Hearing some of the older Order members grumble about the Ministry, he hid his slight sneer. He had to agree. They wouldn't be here if the Aurors did their job, if Fudge only stopped thinking about the world in the terms of politics and acted.

Maybe he should never have started to think about this war as what it really was. If he'd kept the part everyone wanted him to play he could now do this with the determination and simple mindedness that was so obviously needed from him.

He wondered what it would be like to face this pressure as a puppet of those who held the power. It would probably be easier in a way, if he believed in all the things he said and did.

How funny that in the middle of all this violence, the only thing he really believed in was peace.

A flicker of movement at the door drew his gaze and then the restless noise faded away. Staring at Snape, Harry sat there frozen in place, not able to move a muscle.

Snape was standing there like a harbinger of doom, looking forbidding and as distant as the stars.

Muttering some incoherent excuses, Harry got up and walked to the door. Some people looked on curiously when he went to Snape and then motioned for him to follow him into an empty room; after a moment Blaise's name echoed in the large meeting hall again.

It was the first thing Harry could think of as well. "How is Zabini."

Snape's gaze didn't soften at all, his face looking like it was chiseled in sickly pale marble. "Zabini is alive."

Harry smiled. Then the smile slowly disappeared from his face as Snape simply stood there, staring at him. "What?" What on earth would make Snape look like that?

"I heard your declaration." There was still no change in Snape's expression. "I found it... how would you say it? Oh yes. Utter crap."

Stunned by the way Snape had said it, Harry could only stare. Then he managed to squeeze out another, "What?"

"You do not wish to kill anyone? Is that right?" A hint of malice oozing with Snape's words.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Snape really asking him that right now, after everything? How could there be any doubt how he felt about killing and dying?

Only silence met him as Snape stood there, patiently waiting for an answer.

"No, I do not wish to kill anyone," Harry said quietly.

"Really?" More malice in Snape's voice. "Not even the Dark Lord himself? I find that hard to believe."

"No!" The denial was too quick, too loud, and even Harry couldn't believe it completely.

Snape's knowing gaze was too much, seeing right through his excuses and practiced explanations to the small dark place inside him; the secret he didn't want anyone to know, the one thing he didn't even want to exist.

Before he could really think, the words were pouring out. "He killed my father and he killed my mother, Snape! I want him dead, hell yes I want him dead!" Taking in heavy breaths, Harry stood there, hands squeezed into fists.

The only sounds in the room were his breathing.

Then he added quietly, "But you shouldn't always get what you want. It's enough if he's stopped. If he can never hurt another living being again or kill anyone, it's enough."

He didn't understand what people wanted of him; they praised their great hero who would free their world of Voldemort, yet they tried to uphold some insane moral codes that were impossible to follow. It was harrowing, especially when a part of him did agree with them.

"You really don't want to kill him." This time it wasn't a question.

Harry looked up at Snape, surprised not to see any anger in his gaze, simply puzzlement. "No, but I want him dead anyway. Isn't that just as bad? Wanting him dead."

"No." Shaking his head slightly, Snape seemed to finally relax, the strange tension leaving his body. "It's what makes you different from them."

He didn't have to clarify whom he meant by 'them'.

Harry had wondered. For the tiny moment right after he had seen Terry fall, there had been relief coursing through him with the awful rush of using the killing curse and that moment he had wondered. He couldn't blame Snape for needing to ask.

But even with his assuring words, Snape was wrong about something. "No, that's what makes us different from them."

He ignored the snort and simply held out a hand, breathing more easily as Snape grabbed it and pulled him close.

Snape touched the back of Harry's head as the sentimental fool rested it on his shoulder. He didn't want to concentrate on Harry's rather stupid words, refusing to acknowledge that maybe Harry was getting a lot better at hitting the right target.

But certainly Harry wouldn't think so well of him if he knew the rage still burning inside him; the disgust he'd felt standing at Blaise Zabini's bedside while the mediwizard had told him that his former student would never see again had been only the beginning of a myriad of emotions.

Had Boot survived... But he hadn't, thanks to Harry and his friends. And now instead of facing the traitor, using the old ways to make him pay, Snape was forced to face the simple desire for that act.

Leaning back for a moment, he looked into Harry's eyes. The irrational anger had vanished, and he couldn't understand where it had came from in the first place. "About my earlier words, I..." He saw Harry open his mouth and glared. "Please do not interrupt me while I try to apologize."

"You don't need to apologize. At least you have the guts to say it and make me be honest. Unlike everyone else," Harry muttered. No one else would ever push him like that, and even though it had hurt like hell, he was glad Snape had forced him to say it.

Snape understood what he meant, but for once his brash words hadn't been made with any kind of purpose whatsoever. No matter how Harry might see them as anchoring him to reality, he could only see them as cruelty beyond any reason. "I questioned something that doesn't need questioning, you idiot. So it's only proper that I apologize."

As a response, Harry wrapped his arms around him again, shaking almost violently against him. Rolling his eyes, Snape patted Harry's shoulder as he laughed almost hysterically. It wasn't a bad sound, the genuine mirth he was showing had been absent for too long.

He didn't make any comments about the laughter, nor did he say a word about the kiss that followed.

"Are you all right?" Muttering it quietly, Harry refused to let go of Snape.

For a long while, the only answer he got was a sigh. "Yes," Snape said curtly when he realized that Harry actually expected him to say something.

Nodding, Harry added, "And Zabini? Malfoy said he really is blind." Even with the mediwizards saying that last night hadn't made Harry believe there wasn't something that could be done.

"Yes." Now there was definitely a hint of regret in Snape's voice. "But he will survive." He knew the boy was strong enough to deal with the loss of his eyesight.

Harry knew it was something they'd all have to deal; Zabini's injuries weren't the first loss in this war and would not be the last one. "Yeah."

There was really nothing more to say.

Since the meeting hall was still full of annoying people who would undoubtedly have nothing important to say to him, Snape slipped away from the crowd when Harry grudgingly returned to the Order. After a night spent watching Draco Malfoy's silent anger and cursing his own blindness, Snape wasn't keen on being polite to anyone.

The slightly overcast sky mirrored his weariness perfectly. People were staying inside, and there was no one to ogle at him as he walked to Hogwarts.

Down in the dungeons, he shut the door behind him, enjoying the total silence of his rooms.

Merlin, it was good to be home! Away from the mediwizards and the responsibility and insanely even the anger. This had always been his refuge, the only place in the whole world where nothing could touch him.

A small part of him thought fondly of Harry's intrusion here. At least back then, there had been a sense of meaning to all of this, unlike now with the meetings and the idiots all around him.

Days that were filled with students failing Potions miserably were a distant past, replaced by endless meetings and classes with these almost-adults who had no grasp on the reality waiting for them outside Hogsmeade.

Now that they'd had a taste of war here in their nearly safe haven with one of their own turning against them, at least some members of the Order would have to start taking their training more seriously. Those who could see what was really happening, those who would dread the fighting and the hard decisions but chose to deal with them anyway.

And yet there would still be those who simply showed up and grumbled about the things he, Figg, Fletcher and Lupin were trying to teach them, as if they existed simply to torment them and not to aid them in surviving.

Snape had to wonder if it had something to do with natural selection; those too stupid to see the training classes as something more than an addendum to Hogwarts' curriculum were simply too stupid to live.

He really didn't like the idea, but it didn't seem far fetched. These few days of training were already proof enough.

Today, there would be no classes. He knew Filius and his Ravenclaws, they would be devastated and spend the whole day trying to figure out how Boot could have turned bad right in front of their eyes. Snape knew they would probably never find an answer, but they would try to find one anyway.

It gave him a perfect opportunity to stay here and brew something. Maybe work on something of a more personal nature, maybe concentrate on the antidotes for Poppy. Anything he chose would be acceptable; it would be a blessed peace, just him and his potions.

Used to all the hard work, he still wished he could fully concentrate on the brewing. Spying had been hard, but there had been times when even that had been better than trying to train young people who only gawked when he tried to make them listen.

It was almost like he was tearing open old wounds with nothing to heal them with.

Of course that was the whole point; his expertise was invaluable, for of all of them. He knew what he was talking about. There was nothing to change the fact that the curses and poisons they needed to shield from were ones he was intimately familiar with. His only consolation was that thus far, no one had made open remarks about it.

He was a full member of the Order, needed because of all his knowledge about the Dark Arts as well as potions, and even though he didn't need to be constantly reminded of the fact, he was a former Death Eater.

Snape was definitely going to do his best to make sure no one fell under the Dark Lord's rule again.

The thought froze him.

"No." He needed to whisper his defiance out loud here in his rooms. Even his own thoughts betrayed him, so why not his words? It was no wonder those youngsters looked at him so strangely. He was the only one who still could not say that one simple word out loud. Couldn't even think about it most of the time.

He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord.

Master.

All names he and his fellow Death Eaters had used about the man; sometimes out of reverence, sometimes out of pure adulterated fear. There had been a time when Snape had been able to blurt out his name, when he'd tried so hard to convince others of his return. Before he'd been forced to go back to that nightmare of a world, where survival depended on how well one crawled.

It was over now. No more crawling, for him or for those few who had chosen not to become slaves. Blaise Zabini might not be able to see, but at least he would be free. Young Malfoy would save his loyalty for those who actually deserved it.

Snape would never have to hide or crawl again. Never again.

"Vol...demort." His tongue stumbled on the middle of the name, bringing a scowl full of self disgust to his face. "Voldemort!" Now it sounded better. Cold, clipped tones with no cringing to be detected.

Adjusting his robes, he walked to the cupboard. This determination would be futile if he simply gave into the exhaustion and did nothing the whole day. It didn't matter he'd spent last night standing guard over his Slytherins.

His work was never done.

---

Comments

[holding-pattern.livejournal.com]

Oh, Molly.

The gathering tension and impetus toward the war... I like reading this. I think most pre-war fics I've read have glossed over the preparation, but here it's so key to how Harry's changing - good chapter.

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

:D It'll take a while until Ron's anywhere near a point where he can comfort Draco...

I like writing about the tension that fills the pre-war scenario; people who know exactly what's going on and those who cling desperately to the past, all the planning that will probably be useless, all the waiting...

[xikum.livejournal.com]

Part of me does see the girl's question, though - Couldn't they have hit Terry with a stunning spell? Was it necessary (excpet to the plot) to kill him? He would have been out, and they could have had him to question - to see if he was under Imperius, or acting of free will, and his reasons...

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

I know. It's like Harry has been involved in the whole war-thing for so long that while he has gained some special knowledge about everything, he's also lost sight of how normal people see things.