Fic: No Hiding Place book Five: High in the Sky (6/28)

[sua_lay]

Title: No Hiding Place: Book Five: High In The Sky (6/28)
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 - May 2007
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Five: - It's time to try to save the world. Fools and idiots may be the wizards' only hope. Revenge does indeed taste strange. Kinda furry.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, total stupidity, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes and angst.

The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.

Part 6

Rumors about the attacks started to pour in next.

There had been a few incidents everyone knew of but didn't really speak about, but now it was different. For a few days after Fudge's death, there had been a silence, as if Voldemort had been regrouping his troops, but then a strange light phenomenon had colored the sky over a Muggle village, the only wizarding family there murdered and their house burned to the ground.

That had been the first. There had been others following.

It was still clear that people weren't convinced that there really would be a war at hand, something that was hard to remember when you lived right in the middle of the army constituted of a multitude of Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry left Arthur Weasley to deal with the world in general, the determination showing on Ron's dad clearly indicating that he was more than capable of handling his new duties.

He could only imagine how strange it had to be to know so many things that couldn't be said out loud. Even if everyone could name known Death Eaters, no one went above a whisper yet, letting people like Lucius Malfoy live in peace. None of Voldemort's closest seemed to operate their usual business anymore, all disappearing to their estates for the time being.

Though he didn't say it, Harry did wonder if that was one of the biggest mistakes Voldemort was doing. History showed that their world hadn't crumbled during an attack inside the system, and the following battles had failed as well. But maybe if Lucius had lobbied with Fudge when all this began, they would now be bowing to the Dark Lord.

One thing was certain; it was now too late for intimidating those in high places. Arthur Weasley might not be a political creature like his predecessor, but he was intelligent enough to see the realities. He would also be the last person ever to suggest making a deal with Voldemort.

He was, however, very keen on investigating the rumors about attacks.

"We have another one."

The weary words greeted Harry as he stepped into the small meeting room that people were starting to call his office these days. He nodded at Dumbledore and then turned to Arthur Weasley who was holding a parchment in his hand, looking as tired as he felt. "A raid?"

"Yes." Since it looked like Dumbledore was just sitting there, Arthur cleared his throat before saying, "We think. There were no masked people in the village, no fighting, no..." He paused for a moment, clearing his throat again.

Neither Harry or Dumbledore said anything, both knowing all too well why the subject was so difficult, both also knowing that there was nothing to say.

Arthur shook his head slightly, as if driving away memories. "Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes. No clear evidence of the Death Eaters making a physical attack, but someone cast the Dark Mark in the sky, and the... er... my Aurors have reported that there was a suspicious death in the village."

There was an awkward silence, as if there was more, but Arthur didn't know how to say it. He was casting questioning looks at the Headmaster, as if waiting for him to finish with the report.

Harry looked from Dumbledore to Arthur. "And?" There had to be a reason they were both looking so uncomfortable.

"The attack was made in Godric's Hollow."

The name of the small village made Harry's eyes widen and he stared at the two older wizards. "Godric's Hollow?" His very first home which he couldn't really remember anymore; the place where he'd lived with his mother and his father until Voldemort had come and taken it all away.

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

There was no need for further explanations or a plan; Harry knew he would have to go and see this for himself even if it could very well be a trap. It took a few minutes to gather a small group of people with him, Moody and a group of Aurors already ready for action, Ron a bit baffled but then eager to accompany Harry.

Another owl brought additional information from the Ministry by the time they were all ready.

"The witch..." Moody paused, trying to remember her name. Eventually he had to glance at the young woman standing next to him.

She didn't even flinch at the sight of his wonky eye. "Alice Skively, sir."

Moody nodded. "Yes, Skively. She has lived there for the past forty years, working on some animal project. The villagers say she is almost a hermit." His voice indicated he liked the idea. "They got worried when she didn't go out to get water from the old village well last night. She was known for her healing potions."

Harry could see why that was worriesome. It had been a new moon last night and if the witch had indeed been working with potions, she wouldn't have missed the chance to get one of the main ingredients.

He refused to think too hard about it as they Apparated to Godric's Hollow, keeping a tight rein on his emotions as Moody talked more about the witch and her ways and the Morsmordre that had announced her death to the world. Still, he had to wonder if Snape knew her. He tried to push the other thing out of his mind, and almost succeeded until his gaze met with the ruins just to the side of the small house they were heading to.

The years had made the place almost unrecognizable, and if he didn't know the tale, he might have thought it was an ancient church or a castle, somehow allowed to remain untouched by anything but time.

Harry didn't know what the name of the place should have made him feel, but strangely enough, he felt nothing. Seeing the grass grow on ruins didn't make his own past any more tangible to him, and the wildness of trees and bushes surrounding what was left of the Potter home just gave the place a sleepy look.

It had been the house where his parents had been happy, where he had lived the first months of his life with them. How could the thought of that time make him anything but happy and maybe a bit wistful?

If Voldemort had intended to make him do something rash because of this, he was sorely mistaken.

"Harry? You okay?" Touching Harry's shoulder, Ron looked at him.

Harry took a last glance at the mold covered stones and then turned to his friend, smiling a little. "Yeah. I'm all right." It was not even a lie.

Without another look back, he continued towards the scene of the crime.

A group of Aurors and Order members were standing outside the small house next to the ruins, all looking rather green. One young Auror was leaning against the wall, throwing up in the bush of pale yellow roses. All the others tried not to pay attention to him and milled around, trying to look like they were actually busy.

"Stop milling around you fools!" Moody didn't seem to be in the mood of tolerating lollygagging. He limped towards the Aurors, his eye rolling wildly in its socket. "I want the report. Now!"

"Oi, Seamus!" Ron yelled. He wasn't surprised to see him here. After all, Seamus seemed to be in the front line of action just like he'd always been back at Hogwarts.

Seamus turned slowly to nod at Ron.

There were too many people, too many voices calling out at the same time, and Harry hesitated between listening to one of the Aurors stammer at Moody and going to see for himself. He didn't want to really go into the house, but a part of him knew he had to.

"Let's go." He barely glanced at Ron before taking the first step.

Gesturing with his hand, his movement oddly wooden, Seamus guided Harry and the others inside.

Harry closed his eyes as he saw the scene of the crime, understanding perfectly why the Auror was retching outside the small hut. It wasn't only the sight, it was also the smells; the sweet cloying scent of lavender mixed with the overpowering stench of decay.

He didn't want to look again, but he had to. Forcing himself to open his eyes, he took in the horrendous sight in front of him; the body of a witch, curled on the floor next to the fireplace with her eyes staring lifeless towards a small bundle of fur, her hand reaching out for another. It made bile raise to Harry's mouth, and he had to swallow hard so that he wouldn't have to join the vomiting Auror outside.

It made no sense. This place was far from everything, even the vicinity of the ruins that made this village so famous couldn't explain this massacre. He didn't even remember the name of the woman who lay dead amongst her dead cats, even though Moody had said it before they got here. There was no reason they were all dead, no reason at all.

"What the hell happened here?" Ron could only whisper. His face was white as he tried not to look too closely at the small furry bodies lying all around the room. "What the hell happened here, Harry? Why did they do this? And how?" He couldn't believe anyone could have managed to do something like this, especially with the wards still around the hut.

"I don't know." It was a lie; Harry could well guess.

Seamus said hollowly, "They were poisoned."

It only confirmed what Harry already suspected. The strong odor of lavender he'd smelled ever since he'd stepped inside was clearly coming from a broken vial that was forgotten on the floor next to the fireplace, just a few steps away from the dead witch.

Sent through the floo, the poison fumes had probably killed even before the witch had noticed the whole thing.

Quiet and lethal, leaving behind nothing but the scent of death.

This was a message, nothing more, most likely ordered by Voldemort himself. Harry wasn't even surprised. A man who could walk into a house to kill a young couple and a baby could definitely kill a woman and half a dozen cats to send a message.

Ron tried to say something, but instead of forming words, he gagged and then rushed out of the small house. He almost collided with Seamus on his way out.

Sighing, Harry let him go and simply stood there, staring at the witch. He felt like he should do something or at least bear witness and nothing he could ever do would do a thing for this woman. Not even destroying Voldemort would change this, wouldn't bring her back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered quietly as Seamus stepped even farther away, hoping his housemate hadn't heard the way his voice broke with the useless apology.

The words didn't make him feel any better.

Seamus was walking away from the witch, his eyes going from her to the cats, looking fragile. He reached out a few times, his expression growing more brittle as none of the small animals responded to his touch.

"Seamus?" Harry asked, worried about his friend. "Seamus, what is it?"

He could see that Seamus didn't really hear him, so focused on his desperate search.

It was unclear what he was searching for. Harry tried not to wince every time Seamus moved on, from one dead cat to another, his movements almost frantic now.

Maybe this was something Seamus needed to do so that he could finally join the Auror -- and probably Ron too -- at the rosebush.

At the other end of the room, Seamus was looking at the last sad bundle on the floor. Bending down to touch the body of a grey kitten with his fingertips, Seamus yelped as he felt the small bundle move against his touch. "He's alive!" He lifted the kitten up, staring at it in shock.

It seemed as if he didn't even notice his fingers lose their grip on his wand.

Harry watched it bounce on the floor once and then lay there.

"Thank Merlin..." Seamus whispered as he ran his hand gently over the kitten's back. "Thank Merlin..."

Moody and his assistant banged the door open and walked into the hut, neither paying any attention to Seamus. "Who cleared the scene?" Moody asked, his expression thunderous.

"I don't know. One of the Aurors?" Harry turned his attention away from Seamus. "Why?"

Moody didn't waste any time launching into an angry rant about constant vigilance and the fact that they could have all been killed when they stepped into the hut if there were still poisonous fumes in the air. He was still ranting as his assistant guided him, Harry and Seamus out, not noticing how Harry picked up a wand from the floor and tucked it inside Seamus' robes.

Apparently Seamus didn't notice either, too busy petting the little kitten.

There was nothing they could really do here but to talk to the shocked people milling around the street and then obliviate the Muggles who had joined the crowd. The Aurors didn't need any instructions; most had been through this before.

It was all very efficient, looking professional, and Harry watched from the distance as everyone did their jobs.

He was beginning to realize all the implications of this horrendous attack, and by the time the Aurors were finished, he was anxious to get to Hogwarts. This was far from over, and even though the poor witch didn't seem to have any family to console, Harry knew for a fact that there was someone who might need his company tonight.

The grounds here were already covered by Aurors, and Mr. Weasley could organize whatever happened next with Dumbledore. They could deal with this.

Seeing Ron stand at Seamus' side, scratching the kitten and looking rather freaked out, Harry went to mutter a few excuses to him that didn't really fool his friend. It didn't matter; he simply needed Ron to tell Sirius that he wasn't going to come home that night.

"You're going to Snape, right?" Muttering it quietly so that none of the Aurors could hear, Ron made a slight face.

Harry stiffened, the ugly rant about duty and honor and caring clawing its way out of his throat and he barely managed to shove all the anger back. Then he realized Ron had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "Ron, she was poisoned. This was not aimed to hurt me." Not only him.

He wasn't going to spend the evening away from his duties and work, finally succumbing to the need that had burned inside since he'd accepted the responsibility over the Order.

"Oh." Ron frowned. Then it dawned on him. "Oh! Yeah, sorry. I'll tell Sirius you're not coming home, then."

Harry couldn't say anything, he just clasped his hand on Ron's shoulder for a moment and then let him go back to Seamus.

There were a few people walking past Harry as he headed to the dungeons, but fortunately no one tried to stop him for a conversation. From the very morose looks some of them threw at him, he could tell that the news had already spread here.

It only made him hurry towards the dungeons, but when he was finally there, standing in front of the familiar door, he hesitated.

What if Snape wasn't there? Or what if he hadn't heard the news yet, and it would be Harry's job to tell him about the dead witch and the poison that had killed her? The mere thought was enough to make him nauseous.

Sighing, Harry rested his forehead against the cold stone wall. It was a familiar and almost comforting feeling, a moment of respite before facing a battle he had chosen to fight. He had absolutely no idea what he would say to Snape, but he couldn't stay away right now.

He didn't say anything as he slid his hand over the snake, wondering for a moment if the door would even open to him. When the wards simply tinged against his skin like always, he took that as a good sign.

There were no words of greeting as he stepped into Snape's rooms. Not that he'd expected there to be any.

Snape was standing next to the fireplace, his hands moving almost frantically between a cauldron and piles of ingredients. He barely glanced at Harry, choosing to ignore him after checking the intruder.

Hot fumes filled the room.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the broken vials on the floor by the door. There was a burn mark on the wall next to him, as if someone had thrown a fire charm at the stones. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about how to tell Snape; he obviously knew already, and his reaction was exactly what Harry had feared.

He didn't say anything. The silence in the room was brittle somehow, and he wasn't going to destroy whatever peace there was left. Moving quietly towards the cupboard, he kept his gaze on Snape's back, hoping his slow movements wouldn't drive the man to throw him out of his rooms.

He grabbed a broom from the cupboard and went to brush the shards off the floor, working slow enough to make as little sound as possible.

The message Voldemort had sent had indeed been understood. Harry breathed in the myriad of scents floating from the broken bottles, knowing well that there were dried branches of lavender in the cupboard. Snape had been the Dark Lord's Potions master for years, one of his best assets; whatever poisons he still had were undoubtedly made by Snape and using them to kill people was an accusation on its own.

Clearly hitting Snape where it hurt the most.

Guilt was a familiar feeling for Harry; it could eat you alive better than any other emotion. This was probably worse than anything, for Snape knew without any doubts that this was his doing. No matter how he tried to leave his past behind, the Dark Lord would never really let him go.

Harry pushed the shards into a pile, sweeping the floor with a steady motion. He couldn't even begin to guess what was going on in Snape's mind now. Snape was always the first one to make acerbic comments about his need to self flagellate over things that went wrong, but it seemed he was very good at it too.

Especially when no one could deny he had a very good reason for it.

There were no more shards here, so Harry walked to where deep yellow potion was slowly oozing down the wall back on top of the broken bottle. He took a better hold on the broom and started sweeping the floor again.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter!" The angry words were shouted. "You don't have to do that!"

Freezing for a moment, Harry lifted his gaze to see Snape glare at him. He didn't say anything, because he couldn't think of anything that would work right now. If he tried to actually put his thoughts into words, Snape would most likely explode.

He had never before really understood how it felt on this side; when you wanted to make someone feel better and nothing you could say or do would make any real difference. Everything in Snape's demeanor warned him to stay away from him, so a hug or some other form of touch wouldn't do. Snape hated unnecessary babble, tolerated it most of the time but definitely not now.

So this was all that was left.

Harry was going to stay here and try to show Snape his support without being a total idiot. Maybe it would help if he tried to make things just a little better, even if it was nothing more than sweeping the floor clean and bringing some resemblance of order into the chaos.

"You..." Squeezing the small jar filled with something looking familiarly like a bezoar so hard his knuckles turned white, Snape growled, unable to finish his sentence. He turned back to his cauldron, ignoring Harry completely.

A moment later the faint sounds of glass shards being swept off the floor filled the silence in the room.

Harry didn't know what Snape was working on, but he knew that it was something vital to the man now. There was no sign of the usual silent pleasure of brewing in Snape, his movements almost distraught. Observing him quietly, Harry kept sweeping the already clean floor.

There was really nothing else to do.

Stirring the brewing potion, Snape concentrated on his work and tried to convince himself he didn't care if Harry stayed or left.

Talking to Harry about anything would be a waste of time right now. This potion was needed sooner or later, and he intended to make enough for the whole Order, including everyone from the Ministry. He should have thought of this ages ago, when they had considered the Dark Lord's plan of using exotic beings as a weapon! Whatever sludges some hapless idiot would now make for Voldemort wouldn't be of concern; Snape's own work would be the worst thing they encountered.

The slight shift in the scent wafting from the cauldron was enough to tell Snape the potion was ready. He grabbed a scoop and drizzled a portion into a cup.

A self mocking smile appeared on his lips as he stared at the one thing that would slow down most of the poisons he'd once brewed long enough for someone to make an antidote. He didn't need to drink this. Once, so many years ago it seemed like eternity, he had sampled most of the things he'd ever thought of, trying to protect himself from everything.

He wasn't ashamed of his survival instinct, but he wasn't especially proud of it right now either.

Snape knew he'd have to bottle the potion before it congealed, but he couldn't go to the cupboard for the empty bottles yet.

"Potter."

Harry almost dropped the broom as his name rang in the room. "Yes?" He hoped Snape wouldn't ask him to leave, for that would only lead into a shouting match.

Face unnaturally pale, Snape offered the small cup at Harry. "Drink this."

He didn't want to explain, but thought he should. How could anyone ever accept his brews again without knowing exactly what they were? "That should delay the effects of most of the poisons I..." And after all these years of being brutally honest with himself, he still couldn't say it without almost choking. "Poisons I made for Voldemort."

"Thank you." Lifting the cup to his lips even before Snape was finished with his explanation, Harry drank the bitter potion, not hesitating for a moment.

The trust he showed made Snape shake with utter shock. How could Harry be such a fool as to trust him? No one should; not after everything that had happened. He wanted to yell at Harry, to curse him and drive him away, but there was a flaw in that; he didn't think anything he could say would manage that.

He took the cup from Harry, placing it on the table before going back to his cauldron. There was a lot to do, bottling the brew and then cleaning up. It would give him something to focus on.

Shutting out everything else, he turned back to his work, to the bubbling potion that was so different from those he'd made ages ago. Poisons, truth potions that might kill the subjects or at least drive them mad, dark potions meant to harm and maim.

He'd faced his deeds ages past, when there had been nothing in his world but pain and disgust at what he'd done. There would never be anything to give him any kind of a redemption and no matter what he did, he would always have to carry his past sins with him. Killing Voldemort wouldn't change that, going to Azkaban wouldn't change that. Even his own death would not take away all the pain and horror he had once inflicted the world.

Working helped. It didn't change everything, but it did make a difference. It had been the one thing Dumbledore had pointed out when he'd turned away from the Death Eaters, and he'd held onto those words like they could really save him some day. He didn't know he really believed in them, but he had to at least try, had to keep working.

Wallowing didn't help; it would be such a Gryffindor thing to do, wasting time in idle daydreams. He could not change the past, but he'd make sure they would survive the present.

Snape moved mechanically, filling small bottles with the pale blue potion.

The quiet sound of the broom brushing the floor had never ceased. Harry kept the motion steady even when he was sure he'd got all the shards, real and imaginary. The silence was still tense, but he tried not to add to the tension.

Looking up, he realized Snape had finished with the bottling. There was a large wooden tray filled with rows of small bottles on the table but Snape was standing next to his cauldron, looking like he was rooted there.

He put the broom away and sent the shards to the bin with a flick of his wand. Half expecting Snape to comment on the futility of his work, he turned to walk to the table.

"Snape?" Not even his soft footsteps had brought the man out of his somber thoughts.

Slowly, Snape turned to glare at him. The expression in the black gaze was once again blank; hiding everything, the shield as unbreakable as ever.

"I'll take these to Albus." Grabbing the tray, Harry nodded towards the bathroom. "You should take a shower while I'm gone." He kept his tone as calm as possible.

The glare held real emotion now. Fury.

Harry didn't show any reaction to the angry way Snape looked at him, he simply walked to the door. He did however notice that Snape made his way towards the bathroom almost immediately.

Slamming the bathroom door shut so hard one of the panes cracked, Snape stalked towards the shower. Damn Harry Potter! He hated such blatant show of complete stupidity and Gryffindor superiority! Just because the idiot guessed correctly that he intended to hand the potion to the Headmaster, it didn't give him any rights to order him around in his own rooms.

He took a long shower, refusing to admit he'd really needed one. The hot water was almost scalding his skin, but he didn't care.

Some people used this as a ritual, washing away all the ache and pain and bad memories. Snape had never understood such unimaginable stupidity. Letting hot water and soap remove the sweat and dirt was comforting, but it never took anything else away. All those things that stained him were deeper than the smears on his skin and could never be washed away.

Finishing his bathing routines was mechanical. Snape applied the protective salve on his arm without looking into the mirror, knowing all too well what would greet him there.

The lights were low in his rooms as he padded out of the bathroom wrapped in an old but clean robe. He wasn't particularly surprised to see Harry sitting on his chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Potter." It came out with a note of resignation, no sign of anger in his voice anymore. "You're not going to leave no matter what I say, are you?"

"No."

Snape hadn't thought so.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked quietly.

"No." It had been ages since Snape had felt this nauseous after brewing potions, but he couldn't even imagine eating anything right now. "I'm just..." He paused for a few heartbeats, seeing from the knowing look on Harry's face that he knew already. "Tired."

Admitting such weakness made him wish he could feel anger instead of the bone deep weariness. It didn't exactly help that Harry nodded slightly, his expression saying that he knew exactly how Snape felt.

Harry got to his feet. "Okay." He padded towards the bedroom, not looking if Snape was coming or not.

Sighing with exasperation, Snape followed him, extinguishing the lights from the living room and then closing his bedroom door firmly behind him. He didn't know exactly what Harry wanted of him right now, but he hoped it wasn't anything complicated. He just wanted to go to bed and pretend he could sleep.

There had been time when he would have gone for the sleeping potion he kept on the nightstand, gulping down a measure quickly before putting the bottle away again so that the insane thought of simply emptying it so that he might not wake up ever again would barely surface.

He didn't even think about the potion right now, not because he feared choosing the coward's way out, eternal oblivion, or even being reluctant of giving Harry more power over him by showing just how weary he was.

Making his way slowly to the bed, he watched Harry strip down to his boxers and then joined him under the covers without words. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to share things with Harry, knowing all too well that the idiot already knew most about what made him so angry anyway. He curled on his side, his back to Harry.

There was a rustling sound as Harry pulled covers over them both.

"Nox," Harry murmured quietly before lying down next to Snape, chest against his back. His arm curled around Snape's body instinctively and he sighed as he could feel how tense he was.

He waited for a moment, his touch light, just a reminder that Snape wasn't alone here. Then, he pulled Snape a little closer, muttering, "Come here, you."

For a moment Snape tensed even more. He was not in the mood for this and sex would certainly not bring the slightest of relief tonight. It would only remind him of the time when all the pain and the sorrow had been hidden under layers of debauchery, turning him into something he didn't want to remember anymore.

Harry's arm around him tugged him back a little.

"That's better." There was a soft kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Snape."

Swallowing hard, Snape closed his eyes.

There was a soft sigh behind him and then silence. No other touches, no words; only a warm presence against his back, steady breathing caressing his neck.

He waited for words, maybe awkward consolences or empty phrases and then realized that there wold be none. Harry wasn't stupid enough to ask if he wanted to talk about it, and wouldn't waste his breath on futile condolences.

The realization made him relax slightly, molding his back against Harry's chest.

The world didn't become a better place because of the idiot holding him. This simple touch took away no memories, cured none of the old hurts. But somehow it was enough right now.

Relaxing completely into the strong embrace, Snape pushed all thoughts away, content on just lying here with Harry until he could drift into fitful sleep.

---

That's it for tonight. More to come tomorrow!

Comments

[xena-2001de.livejournal.com]

*squeeeeeee* You started posting. Now I'll have to wait for the very last part, then go back to read the whole saga. Time till the last Potter won't be boring :)

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

:D The whole fic should be posted in a week or less. Have fun reading.