Second Place - Drama

Harry sank into the leather side chair in Severus’ St. Mungo’s office, his aching feet propped up on a stack of research books. After a long period of stagnation, his mind was exhilarated by the intellectual challenges each day now provided. For too long, his daily survival relied solely on his body and his sexual allure, but Madam Jones and Severus continued to challenge him, giving his keen intelligence a chance to emerge. He could easily grasp concepts that would have been alien to him months before.

He was mentally and physically exhausted, fresh off a week of fourteen-hour days. But, Harry thought, it was not the class work, lab work or the hands-on patient training that left him so drained, it was the constant fear of discovery.

Years of modeling and life with Uncle Leon had made him a consummate actor, but he had always known who he was beneath the role. Now he wasn’t so sure. In the very public setting of the hospital, he feared someone would finally look closely enough at the shy, diminutive Corvus Corax and discover the disgraced Harry Potter.

He was proud to be an apprentice; after untold years, he was no longer ashamed to look at himself in the mirror. He was building himself a respectable future and he feared it would all crash down on his head. He had tried so hard to remain in the shadows, but Zacharias Smith’s jealousy forced him into the spot light.

Severus entered his office at the end of his last meeting of the day, not surprised to find Harry curled up in the chair. He was proud of his young lover and the effort he was putting into his studies. Each day, Harry grew less tentative in his actions. Severus could measure the growing confidence in the younger wizard and he was delighted. Madam Jones and the other staff members had nothing but praise for the quiet young man. He only hoped Zacharias’ vindictiveness had not shaken Harry to his core.

Harry opened his eyes slowly. He tried to gauge Severus’ unreadable expression. Severus folded his long frame into another leather side chair. Harry felt nervous, his stomach clenching. Immediately after his successful confrontation with Zacharias in the library, Harry looked up as the murmur of voices drifted to the main floor. With shock, he realized his actions had been witnessed not only by Severus, but also by a majority of the senior staff - so much for discretion.

When Severus remained silent, Harry caught a shaky breath. "Blaise told me Zacharias has been dismissed from the program. Am I to be dismissed as well?"

"Mr. Smith was not dismissed."

"But Blaise..."

"Mr. Zabini was mistaken. Mr. Smith has been re-assigned to a satellite hospital – St. Brigit – in Wales. As much as he deserved to be tossed out on his ear for conduct unbecoming a St. Mungo’s apprentice, he was given one final chance to prove his worth. Any additional infraction, however minor, will banish Zacharias Smith from the entire European Mediwizardry apprenticeship program."

"And me? My conduct was hardly respectable. Am I to be disciplined as well?"

"While it would have been easy to resort to violence, your solution was deemed to be highly creative by the senior staff." Severus smiled a rare smile. "Well done, Mr. Corax."

"Oh my God," Petunia Dursley whimpered as she watched an amateur videotape shown to her. She wiped away the tears blurring her vision as one of the police detectives in the room handed her a box of facial tissues. "It wasn’t just Harry...he didn’t stop at just Harry."

The detective paused the video, freezing an image of four little naked boys. They looked to be no older than four or five. "Can you identify any of the children, Mrs. Dursley?"

Petunia collected herself as best she could, her hatred of Vernon multiplying. She approached the television monitor and pointed to each figure in succession. "My nephew Harry...my Duddikins...that’s his best friend Piers...and...I’m sorry...I don’t remember this little one’s name."

"Gordon," said a deep tight voice beside her. Dudley rested a meaty hand on his mother’s thin shoulder. "I remember that...Dad let us have all the sweets we wanted...even Harry...and you know, Mum, Dad never let Harry have anything."

"Do you remember any other occasions similar to this?"

Dudley’s small eyes stared at the frozen video image. "Never again with me...but you may want to talk to Piers Polkis...I remember Dad buying him video games...but they wouldn’t tell me why."

A smile of satisfaction creased his usually impassive face as Severus perused a Muggle newspaper. Unlike most wizards, the Potion Master did not ignore the Muggle world that surrounded them. He often purchased newspapers from a news stand located a block from St. Mungo’s.

He was pleased with a multi-page exposé in "The Daily Mail". His little visit to Privet Drive had blossomed most unexpectedly. Not only had Petunia Dursley’s police report caught Vernon Dursley in the web of a child pornography sting, she had managed to snare Alistair, Quentin, and an unknown number of others as well. Discovered amongst Vernon’s collections was a list of the dates, times, and names of every photographer he had taken Harry to as well as the amount of payment received. And since all the transactions were in cash, the Department of Taxation was aiding in the investigation.

In a plea bargain, Quentin spilled his guts. If he was going to go down, he would not go down alone.

And Alistair was caught in a stranglehold. When police arrived with a warrant to search his premises, they discovered him in the midst of filming the violent and non-consensual rape of a thirteen year old runaway. A thorough search of his studio uncovered materials linking him to the arson fire of Harry’s apartment building.

Yes, thought Severus, his revenge was shaping up nicely and there was no way the Ministry of Magic could trace back to him. He had brought Harry’s abusers to Muggle justice with the use of only one spell, a simple "Alohamora" to open a locked trunk and, with subtle "suggestion", Petunia Dursley’s no longer dormant maternal instincts had done the rest. If what he had read about Muggle penal institutions was correct, the three men would find hell at the hands of their fellow prisoners. Child rapists and child abusers found little acceptance within a prison population, many prisoners the victims of child abuse themselves. They would experience a small taste of the pain and humiliation Harry had suffered for almost his entire life. How sweet retribution could taste.

Malcolm would be harder to snare. He ran a legitimate modeling agency and had no involvement in underage pornography or tax evasion. He had dabbled a bit in adult pornography itself, but that was considered almost a victimless crime and Harry had been over the age of consent when coerced to perform oral sex in order to keep his modeling contract. But Malcolm had caught the eye of investigators and Severus could only hope the man would one day soon slip up.

Severus Apparated into his study, searching for Harry. Madam Jones contacted him in the St. Mungo’s Research Laboratory to tell him "Harry Potter" received an unwanted owl bearing a Hogwarts seal that left him agitated. She dismissed the young apprentice for the remainder of the day so he could regain control of his emotions.

Aconite and Hedwig were asleep on their perch. Hedwig opened one sleepy amber eye before determining they were in no danger from predators and promptly settled back to sleep, tucked against her companion’s darker feathers.

The entire downstairs of the townhouse was bathed in a fragrant aroma. Severus watched flour speckled Harry viciously kneading a large ball of bread dough, small clouds of flour drifting up from the worktable. Behind the slender wizard, Severus could see an enormous pile of dirty pots and cooking utensils in the sink as well as several large pots simmering on the burner. His sensitive nose identified one as the beginnings of a savory stew and the second a tomato sauce for pasta. A stuffed chicken was roasting in the oven. Thank Merlin for food preservation charms. There was more food being prepared than the couple could eat in a month.

Harry acknowledged his lover with a nod before continuing his abuse of the elastic dough. Severus almost smiled; when Harry was upset or angry, he cooked. He buried himself in the preparation of complex and time-consuming Muggle dishes. The time it took to expend his excess energy gave him time to calm himself and think out his actions before acting rashly. When Harry was working out his problems, it was difficult for Severus to understand how the Sorting Hat ever thought the young man a good fit for Gryffindor.

Harry deposited the dough in an oil drizzled bowl, turning the dough over to coat it. He set the large stoneware bowl aside in a warm corner for it to rise a second time. Ignoring the pile of dishes, Harry washed his hands before finally giving Severus his full attention.

The dark wizard brushed a smudge of flour from the other man’s cheek. He wrapped him into a strong hug, nuzzling his nose into the soft black hair.

"Madam Jones said you received distressing post."

Harry indicated several rolls of parchment and a flat black velvet box on the kitchen table. "That manipulative old bastard has gone too far."

Severus didn’t need to ask what manipulative old bastard Harry was referring to - he knew.

"What has Dumbledore done now?"

Harry accioed a roll of parchment and Severus skimmed its contents, immediately understanding his lover’s reaction. Certain phrases made his hackles rise.

"...Since you are acting immaturely and have not acknowledged your invitation to the Ministry of Magic Ball...have accepted on your behalf...demand you sit at the head table...time to return to the wizarding world and stop hiding like a child...returning something you inadvertently left behind..." Severus stopped skimming. "What did you inadvertently leave behind?"

Harry pointed toward the velvet box. "Inadvertent, my arse. After receiving my Ministry of Magic decree stating I was morally corrupt, an embarrassment to wizardkind everywhere, and my presence was no longer welcome in polite society, I took a long walk around the Hogwarts school grounds to figure out my options. The Giant Squid likes pretty things to decorate her nest so I gave her my Order of Merlin – First Class medal. I resent that Albus Dumbledore stole it from her.

"If I wasn’t moral enough to become an Auror, and I wasn’t moral enough to be a respectable member of wizarding society, then I’m not moral enough to wear an Order of Merlin medal to a dress up party."

Severus crumpled Dumbledore’s parchment without finishing reading it, incinerating it with wandless magic. He wasn’t sure who he hated more – Albus Dumbledore or Cornelius Fudge. Harry deserved to wear his Order of Merlin proudly; he did not disserve the manipulative bastards and their continued efforts to control him.

Severus looked up from the desk in his study and glanced over at his apprentice, napping fitfully on the leather sofa, a book on anatomy open on his chest. Harry twitched and let out a soft whimper, the heavy medical tome slipped to the carpet with a loud thud. Harry jerked awake, disoriented.

"Nightmare?" Severus inquired.

"No...not precisely a nightmare..." Harry sat up, tiredly rubbing his temples. "More like bad memories. What with the Ministry Ball, the newspapers and the old man’s repeated owls...the Anniversary isn’t a celebration for me...and it shouldn’t be one for anyone else either...so many dead...so many injured..."

Severus joined the younger man on the sofa. The slender figure curled up beside him, resting his head in Severus’ lap. Long fingers smoothed the wayward dark tresses, offering comfort.

It was impossible to escape the build-up to the Third Anniversary Celebrations, even in St. Mungo’s, where many of the casualties still languished. There would be no celebrations held in the Curse Damage Wards for decades; a wizard’s long life span was not a blessing on that ward.

Severus thought back to the Final Battle. October 31st, Halloween, First Hogsmeade Weekend, Sixteenth Anniversary of the death of James and Lily Potter, and the Sixteenth Anniversary of the orphaning of "The Boy Who Lived".

Due to the heightened threat of attack, the four Heads of House, and three additional staff members were chaperoning the exuberant students on the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the year. Both Severus and Minerva had questioned the Headmaster on the unnecessary risk posed by the outing, but Albus Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he waxed nostalgic on the tradition. Severus seethed at the old man’s foolishness; more than one spy had reported on increased Death Eater activity.

When Lord Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters and dark creatures did attack Hogsmeade, a panicked call went out to the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix. In the critical minutes before help arrived, the safety of Hogsmeade and the Hogwart’s students fell to seven professors, members of the D.A., untrained students and a few shopkeepers.

Madam Rosemerta was the first to fall, killed by an Avada Kedavra as she tried to shield a group of third year students on their very first visit to Hogsmeade. Although they fought bravely, the underage witches and wizards were no match against the fully trained Death Eaters. A Jelly Legs Curse, while debilitating, was no match for a Cruciatus Curse. Ginerva Weasley and Dean Thomas were the next to die, hexed as they attempted to rescue a fourth year Hufflepuff whose legs had been severed.

In what was either a move of sheer heroism or plain stupidity, Stan and Ern plunged The Knight Bus into the midst of battle, attempting to rescue the trapped children and the injured. While moderately successful in their rescue attempt, Stan Shunpike was caught in a cross-fire of curses, injured so severely he was still a semi-permanent resident of the St. Mungo’s Curse Damage Ward.

As the battle progressed and the death count rose, Severus saw Harry Potter face off against Lord Voldemort and his second-in-command, Lucius Malfoy. Too far away to be of any assistance, Severus looked on helplessly as Harry fought a losing battle. Severus shouted in denial as a disarmed Harry was brought to his knees by repeated Cruciatus Curses. The Potion Master could see the trademark Weasley red hair surge forward from several directions, but it was Draco Malfoy who took down his own father.

In possession of both of the "brother" wands, Voldemort cast a strong Shielding Charm around himself and the fallen Boy Who Lived. He could taste certain victory and instead of cleanly killing his main adversary, the insane Dark Lord chose to toy with his victim instead.

As Albus, Severus, Minerva and three Ministry Aurors tried to disable Voldemort’s defensive shield, they could only watch helplessly while the seventeen year old wizard writhed under repeated curses. Harry seemed to weaken; Voldemort shot Dumbledore a vindictive sneer. With his torturer momentarily distracted, Harry pulled out a hidden second wand from a holster on his left forearm.

"Avada Kedavra, you fucking bastard..." Harry cried out, freezing the Dark Lord in mid-laugh. The burst of dark magic tore through Harry’s already depleted reserves. The green glow of the Killing Curse faded; Harry crumpled to the cobblestones, unconscious.

Severus’ mind drifted back to the present, focusing on the even breathing of his companion. He gently shook Harry’s shoulder.

"Wake up, Love."

"Not sleeping," Harry murmured and pushed himself up. "Remembering...I don’t want to go to the gala tomorrow night...I don’t need any more reminders of those we lost..."

"Merlin knows I am no more anxious to attend than you are...but duty demands..."

Harry arched an eyebrow and Severus halted mid-sentence. Since when had the dark wizard started to channel Albus Dumbledore? The green eyed wizard gave him a quick peck to the tip of his overly large nose. "I hear there is an outbreak of Dragon Pox in the Pediatric Ward...I’ve never had Dragon Pox, have you?"

Severus shook his head. "Won’t work. Incubation period for Dragon Pox is ten days...off to bed. It will be a long night tomorrow."

"Stay with me?" Harry asked, uncertainly, almost as if he were afraid of rejection. Severus once again cursed those who had so damaged his lover. The dark wizard clasped Harry’s smaller hand into his own and led him from the study.

"I don’t want to be alone either."

On the morning of the Ministry Ball, Severus paused at the entrance to the townhouse kitchen. Harry had all the ingredients laid out to prepare ham and cheese omelets, but his attention was focused on the Commemorative Edition of "The Daily Prophet". Page after page of the tabloid was filled with the names of the dead.

Severus rested his hand on Harry’s thin shoulders and read some of the names. So many underage witches and wizards had perished due to Dumbledore’s foolish decision not to cancel a Hogsmeade Weekend. Had a handful of Chocolate Frogs and a box of Bertie Botts Everyflavor Beans truly been worth the life of a child?

The center spread of the "Prophet" featured a collage of photographs, some taken during the final battle and others of important players. One photograph showed a glass case containing the "brother" wands of Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter on display at the Ministry of Magic under heavy security wards.

The Potion Master plucked Harry’s wand up from the middle of the kitchen table and casually examined it. He had never paid much attention to Harry’s replacement wand before and quickly realized he was holding the spare wand Harry had actually used to destroy the Dark Lord. The Ministry always assumed their savior used his holly and phoenix feather wand for the destruction of Lord Voldemort and had immediately confiscated it.

Harry reached for his wand. Severus looked at it one final time and handed it to the younger man.

"When did Ollivander provide you with a second wand?"

Harry tucked his wand up his sleeve. "I didn’t get the wand from Ollivander...at least not directly. The wand is almost two hundred and fifty years old...It belonged to my Great, Great, Great Uncle Aloysius Potter."

"And you came by it..."

"I may not be able to remove any money or jewels from the Potter Vaults until I turn twenty one, but the Goblins occasionally turn a blind eye to family heirlooms valued at less than twenty galleons. I discovered a cache of wands one afternoon and this wand was surprisingly compatible."

"When I held it, the magic felt strange to me. What is it made of?"

"Ollivander told me it was an unusual wand, with an unusual core. It is Black Forest oak with the tail hairs of a unicorn and a thestral twined about the feather of a newly reborn phoenix...Life and Death...Birth and Rebirth...the ideal wand for a Healer...wouldn’t you say?"

Severus’ response died on his lips as a raptor sailed through the Postal Owl entrance and perched on his shoulder.

"That better not be another effing note from Dumbledore. I’ve had it with his veiled threats and his offers of false reconciliation. I will no longer be his pawn."

"Not from Albus...Tut is Bill Weasley’s bird...better suited to the climate of Egypt than a common owl."

Severus made quick work of the binding holding a roll of parchment. Without waiting for a message or payment, Tut soared back out into the early morning sky.

"Sev,

Unexpected change in plans. I need to stay at The Burrow with Mum tonight. She’s never really recovered from losing Ginny in the war and all those "Prophet" articles have reinforced her grief. She is in no condition to attend the ball and we are afraid to leave her alone.

Since Dad and Percy work at the Ministry, Fudge has made their attendance mandatory so it has fallen to me to "Mum-sit".

Keep your shadow close tonight. Ron will be in attendance and who knows what he’ll do once he samples the free alcohol. Percy has promised to try to keep an eye on him.

Bill"

Severus set the parchment beside the newspaper. "Damn," he thought. Percy was a pencil-pusher, not capable of keeping Ron in check like Bill could.

Harry looked up from the omelets he was preparing. "Is Bill still coming to stay for a few days?"

"No." Severus replied quickly. "Change of plans. He won’t be able to come to London after all."

Ron Weasley adjusted his Order of Merlin – Third Class medal on his expensively tailored dress robes. Now that he was a World Class Quidditch star, he no longer needed to wear ill-fitting hand-me-down and second hand robes. The deep blue of the robe played nicely against his reddish orange hair and his blue eyes. His ego swelled even larger as he swaggered through the crowds, hearing the awed voices of Quidditch fans. "Weasley is your King" indeed, he thought. How he’d love to make Malfoy eat his words.

The tall red head made his way through the slowly filling ballroom, glancing at the names on the placards. Anyone who was anyone in wizarding society would be attending. He paused, surprised to see the name "Harry Potter" on a white card between "Albus Dumbledore" and "Minerva McGonagall" at the head table. No one had seen or heard of Harry since his Hogwarts graduation; would the tarnished "Golden Boy’ actually make an appearance?

Ron wended his way through the round tables, each set for eight, locating his own name in a prominent table in the center of the room. He would be sitting with players from other Quidditch teams. He smiled viciously when he saw the seating arrangements at the table his estranged twin brothers were assigned. They had been relegated to a table in a dark corner away from the general flow of the room. He laughed when he read the names of their other dining companions. Ron couldn’t think for any better revenge than to have them stuck in the dark with the greasy git of a Potion Master and the supposedly reformed ferret, Draco Malfoy.

He looked at the other cards assigned to the twin’s table, all witches and wizards he knew from Hogwarts, except one. The name card to the right of "Severus Snape" caught his eye. It was an unfamiliar name – "Corvus Corax". Ron snorted. He had always joked that Snape was nothing but an overgrown bat. Apparently his partner for the night was a blackbird. The witch must be extremely ugly or desperate to be willing to date the snarky git.

The ballroom filled with witches and wizards in their best robes. The volume of the room was almost deafening as the guests conversed with colleagues they had not seen in years. The Weasley twins spoke pleasantly with Draco and his heavily pregnant wife, the former Susan Bones. Draco wore an Order of Merlin – Second Class in recognition for the dangerous role he played in the war – as a mole planted deep within the Death Eater organization. The twins had brought Katie Bell and Lee Jordan as their guests and their animated conversations soon spread to adjoining tables.

Ron, from his prime spot several tables over, glanced furtively toward his brothers’ table. It galled him that Draco received a higher award than he had and it irked him even more that his brothers were not appalled to share a table with the blond.

Ron clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He had promised his mother that he would be civil to them and the twins agreed not to hex him on sight. Of all his brothers, Percy was the only one still speaking to him and it was small consolation. The mid-level Ministry of Magic employee had tried to confiscate his wand the minute Ron ordered his first shot of Fire Whisky.

Snape and his mysterious date had not yet arrived and Ron wondered if the snarky bastard would be a no-show. One glance at the head table showed the telltale gap between Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. Dumbledore looked furious. But guests were still arriving as officials tried to move the crowd to their assigned seats.

Ron noticed Professor McGonagall lean toward Professor Dumbledore and point toward one of the entrances. The redhead followed the direction of her hand, expecting to see Harry but it was the tall figure of the Potion Master.

Severus carefully steered his shorter companion through the crowded ballroom, pausing a few times to exchange pleasantries with former Slytherins and staff members from St. Mungo’s. Not a few witches and wizards paused in conversation as Severus guided his guest, his hand resting at the small of the back. A few whispered comments wondered how the severe wizard could get such an attractive date, but Healer Smethwyck, after acknowledging Master Snape and his apprentice, doused all speculation.

Draco’s arm shot up and Severus began to head in the direction of the table. Ron tried to get a glimpse of Severus’ date and was mildly surprised by the flat chest. Obviously, Corvus Corax was not a witch.

Ron’s jaw dropped as he got a clear view of Severus’ companion. Small and compact, he was dressed in expensive dress robes of black and emerald green, finely tailored to accent his slender frame. A thin hand brushed back the long black pageboy and Ron could see a beautiful face and vibrant green eyes. Harry Potter had returned to the wizarding world and no one seemed to realize it.

Ron abruptly knew the placement of the twins’ table had not been an insult but had been deliberate. Severus, Draco and the young wizard that might be Harry all sat with their backs to the wall, a clear view to the rest of the room. Fred and George were in perfect position to run interference and the remaining occupants had all exhibited strong defensive skills while members of the D.A.

The youngest male Weasley was astounded no one else seemed to realize Harry had returned. Any conversation that washed over him was more in surprise that Snape had taken on an apprentice, speculation on whether if you wanted to ask the pretty young wizard on a date you needed to ask Snape’s permission first, or that the two Slytherin war heroes were so comfortable being seated with the Gryffindor pranksters.

Oliver Wood watched his tablemate carefully. The Puddlemere United Player-Coach followed Ron’s glances and thought his brothers were the targets of his distain.

"Keep away from Fred and George, Ron. This is not the place to air family squabbles." The keeper warned bluntly. He had been requested to sit at Ron’s table as a favor to the coach of the Chudney Cannons. Someone needed to keep the hotheaded redhead in check. Personally, Oliver hated Ron for what he had done to Harry years before.

"I don’t give a frick about the twins," Ron snapped, downing another shot of Fire Whisky. "Who’s that with Snape and Malfoy?"

Angelina Wood leaned around her husband. "That’s Susan, you twit. Draco Malfoy’s wife."

"Not Susan, the other one."

"Oh, that’s Corvus. He’s apprenticing in Massotherapy under Madam Jones in the Curse Damage wards. He’s really shy, but I hear nice things about him." Angelina worked in the Medical Records Department at St. Mungo’s.

"Then what is he doing with Snape?"

She laughed. "Corvus is Snape’s novice, too. He has a dual apprenticeship, poor sod."

"Doesn’t he look like Harry to you?"

Both the Woods looked toward the other table. Oliver squeezed his wife’s hand gently. She had voiced her own suspicions to her husband upon first meeting Corvus Corax; they decided early on that if Corvus was indeed Harry, they would keep his secret. The former Miss Johnson laughed.

"Come off it, Ron. They are both small and they both have green eyes and black hair, but honestly. Even on its best day, Harry’s hair always looked as if it were groomed by doxies."

Harry blinked, trying not to dose off as the Minister of Magic droned on and on about sacrifice and bravery. The space between Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall remained glaringly empty, as Harry knew it would.

A murmur broke through the guests as a snowy owl soared through the open ballroom doors and landed beside Cornelius Fudge. Politely, Hedwig stuck out her leg, waiting for the pompous wizard to remove the message.

Without waiting for a treat, Hedwig launched herself off the table, pausing only to swoop down at the table Ron Weasley was seated and proceed to bat him on the head with her massive wingspan before disappearing out the door. Oliver tried not to laugh.

Fudge unrolled the small parchment and frowned when he read it. Those who recognized Hedwig knew the note was from the missing Harry Potter.

"Dear Minister of Magic,

I was thrilled to receive my invitation to the Ministry Ball honoring ALL Order of Merlin recipients and had looked forward to seeing the many friends and compatriots I fought beside in the second rise of Lord Voldemort. Unfortunately, at the last moment, I realized I would be most unwelcome to attend. Invitation or not, the Ministry of Magic has not seen fit to rescind their declaration against me and I can not in good conscience force you to break bread with a wizard still in disgrace.

As you stated yourself in Ministry of Magic Decree Twenty Eight Thousand Seven Hundred and Thirty One - I was morally corrupt, an embarrassment to wizardkind everywhere, and my presence was no longer welcome in polite society. So, even if "The Boy Who Lived" did kill Lord Voldemort for you, I knew "Harry James Potter" personally could not attend.

Kindly inform Albus Dumbledore that I was acting not from cowardice but from respect. He should not have tried to force the issue.

Sincerely,
Harry James Potter
Order of Merlin - First Class
AKA – The Boy Who Lived"

Fudge ground his teeth, crumpled the parchment into a ball and tossed it beside his goblet. He hastily re-composed himself, quickly thinking of a lie to cover the unexpected postal delivery. He knew many witches and wizards would have recognized Harry Potter’s trademark owl.

"Harry Potter...err...sends his regrets...a last minute family emergency has changed....um...his plans" Fudge picked up his extensive notes, continuing where he left off, never noticing the looks of disbelief on many members of the audience. Everyone knew Harry had no family. The pretentious man never realized that the crumpled message was accioed off the head table and diverted to a table filled with reporters and photographers from "The Daily Prophet", "Witch Weekly" and "The Quibbler". Swiftly the reporters made duplicate copies of the parchment and sent the unmissed original back to its spot beside the goblet.

Harry just smiled as his tablemates looked to him for explanation.

"I didn’t tell Hedwig to attack Ron, but she’s always been overprotective of me. He should be grateful she didn’t empty her bowels on him. I’ll have to remember to give her a special treat when I get home."

Harry slowly chewed his roast beef and listened to snatches of conversation around him. It was difficult to remember that he was supposed to be a stranger, to not know certain histories. Hidden between Severus and Draco, no one paid much attention at all, a few staff members from St. Mungo’s acknowledged his presence with a quick nod of the head. He cautiously searched the adjoining tables for familiar faces and stiffened when Ron’s familiar form came to view.

Neville and Luna stopped at the table to pay their respects soon after dinner ended. The Herbology apprentice gave Harry a sly wink when introduced to Corvus. After inviting them to "pull up a chair’, George cast a subtle Silencing Charm around the table’s perimeter.

Luna was still the same deceptively vacant witch Severus remembered from Hogwarts, but the Ravenclaw’s seemingly oblique comments often hit dead on. She drew Harry into a rambling conversation that seemed to have no beginning or end or even a point at all. The dark wizard was surprised at the unvarnished honesty of Harry’s replies. Harry admitted seeking anonymity and escape into the Muggle world, and that, even as a Muggle-raised wizard, it was more difficult to gain his footing in the somewhat alien world than he first imagined it would be. Harry glazed over some of his miscellaneous Muggle jobs, not mentioning Leon Shaw or any of those related issues.

When Draco tentatively broached the subject of Harry’s modeling career, the slender wizard had them laughing at his description of the outlandish calendar photo shoot with twelve nearly nude male and female models of varying ages, and a menagerie of uncooperative beasties. At Susan’s look of shock, Harry made it a point to explain to the sheltered pureblood witch that Muggles often used sex or the illusion of sex to sell even the most mundane of products. He admitted that he had been totally unprepared for the moral backlash of his cologne advertisement in his seventh year. The advertisement had not raised many eyebrows in Muggle society.

George dropped the silencing charms as Luna and Neville left. Catching Ron’s glower, the freckled wizard returned the glare with a most evil smile. Ron abruptly changed seats, his back to their table.

Ron narrowed his eyes and focused on Angelina. "So, that’s not Harry? Then why are Neville and Luna being so friendly with him?"

Angelina sighed, tired of this thread of conversation. "You know Frank and Alice Longbottom have been patients of the Curse Damage Ward for almost twenty years. Neville visits them several times a week...don’t you think he might have developed a friendship with one of the healers taking care of his parents?"

Ron leaned against the bar, tossing back another shot of Fire Whisky. He surveyed the crowd. Dinner had ended and couples were drifting onto the dance floor. The wizard everyone denied was Harry waltzed gracefully by with the pregnant Susan Malfoy. After a dance or two, Draco cut in to dance with his wife and Fred swept the small wizard away in usual Fred Weasley fashion, more enthusiasm than actual talent. Ron noticed the smaller man was being overly polite, not even complaining when Fred trod on his toes. When had clumsy Harry learned to dance?

Ron flirted casually with others at the bar. Earlier he had picked out a number of faces in the room, most of them one-night stands. Being a Quidditch star and a war hero, he never had any problems finding a willing body to fuck. He had even attended the gala alone, wanting to keep his options open. No one ever turned down Ronald Weasley, he thought, but he couldn’t seem to keep a lover for more than a few weeks. They claimed he was too violent or too possessive, but Ron didn’t believe them.

He had briefly looked for Hermione, but had not expected her to attend. The last owl his mother had received from his former friend had come from Bulgaria. After leaving Hogwarts, Hermione had attempted to rekindle her relationship with Viktor Krum, but the Quidditch Seeker had tossed her out when he discovered her hand in the destruction of both Harry and his racing broom. She had quietly married a Muggle accountant, cousin of one of Viktor’s teammates, and was expecting their first child.

His attention kept drifting back to the green-eyed wizard; he was back at his table, sharing conversation with Severus. It bothered Ron how comfortable they seemed to be with one another. Harry had always hated Severus Snape and Snape had always hated Harry. Perhaps Angelina was right and this wizard wasn’t Harry.

Although the other man shared many of his former best friend’s characteristics, in many – too many – ways this wizard was completely different. Harry had always been a little awkward, even backward around strangers; it was one of his most endearing qualities. This wizard, while outwardly shy, carried with him an air of quiet sophistication.

Ron ordered another shot from the bartender, ignoring Oliver’s attempts to steer him away from alcohol. The Ministry was picking up the tab and Ron was going to damn well take advantage of it.

Severus’ hand casually brushed back a wayward strand of his companion’s hair and Ron tossed back his shot. What the pair shared was obviously more than a business relationship and Ron wondered why it should bother him so much.

On his way back from the restroom, Ron paused. In a darkened corner a tall redheaded wizard was entangled with a smaller, dark haired lover. They were half concealed behind a statue of Merlin. Ron blinked. An unwanted memory of the only wizard to have ever rejected his advances jolted to the surface. Ron swayed slightly, the alcohol in his system beginning to muddle his coordination.

Several months after the fall of Voldemort, Harry’s terrified whimpers awoke Ron from a sound sleep. With his connection to the Dark Lord severed, Harry no longer suffered as many nightmares, but those he did have seemed somehow worse. Harry would never reveal what frightened him.

Ron crawled into Harry’s bed to hold him. He caressed the thin frame with calming motions, inhaling the scent of the smaller body. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Ron missed the almost nightly nightmares Harry used to suffer. Ron didn’t care about his friend’s distress; he just wanted to touch Harry’s beautiful body.

Harry had never considered Ron in a sexual manner so he never attached any ulterior motives to his friend’s actions. Ron was simply Ron and the sometimes-odd caresses were simply that - odd. Feeling safe and protected, Harry snuggled against the muscular wizard, and fell into an exhausted sleep, without taking the sleeping potion he usually consumed after such nocturnal attacks.

Used to Harry being in a drugged state after his nightmares and not realizing he had not ingested any potions, Ron began to kiss his sleeping companion, acting out his fantasies. Harry’s body usually responded minimally, enough to give Ron the illusion of consent. This time, still deep in sleep, but unsedated, Harry became aroused by Ron’s actions. Harry returned the passionate kisses and moaned as Ron rubbed against him. Ron slipped his hand under the waistband of Harry’s sleep trousers, fondling the warm, hardening flesh between the smaller man’s legs.

Harry awoke with a start, shocked green eyes glowing in the moonlight. He was not in Uncle Leon’s bed and this was not Uncle Leon. Afraid his secret had been revealed, Harry bolted from the bed in a panic. What would happen if Ron discovered what a well-trained slut he really was?

At first, Ron was amused. Poor, shy, virgin Harry, he thought, never realizing the truth about his friend’s sordid hidden life.

Harry began to distance himself from Ron and avoided being alone with the redhead. While Ron blindly continued his unwanted sexual advances, Harry withdrew even further. Hermione, who had always harbored a crush on Ron, saw her chance to win the tall wizard. She callously tossed away her friendship with Harry.

And then the cologne advertisement surfaced, and Ron exploded. His illusive virgin became a whore in his eyes and every slight, real and imagined, built up in the red head’s mind until he decided Harry had played him for a fool. No one played Ron Weasley for a fool and did not live to regret it.

And so began the destruction of Harry Potter...

Ron stumbled back into the ballroom, the memories fresh in his mind. He ordered another shot from the bar and cast his unwavering attention to the green-eyed wizard having a casual conversation with Snape and his bastard twin brothers.

As the evening wore on, Harry relaxed slightly. He sipped on a glass of scotch, but not before having Severus check it for tampering. The dark wizard was deep in a professional conversation with Fred and George, trying to help them troubleshoot an unforeseen complication with one of the jokester twins’ experimental products. Hoping to lengthen the spell of their famous "Canary Creams", their new formula unexpectedly left the victim’s skin a bright yellow for four days after the canary transformation wore off. Even though the Potion Master thought the pranks were a waste of obvious potion brewing talent, he was intrigued by the complexity of their creations.

Bored when the conversation droned on to the minutest of ingredients, Harry excused himself to use the restroom. On the dance floor with his wife, Draco noted Harry’s departure and realized Severus had not seen him leave. Moments later, Ron pushed off from the open bar and sauntered after the sprite. Draco exchanged a few words with Susan and led her from the dance floor. The blond wizard shifted his wand in his hidden wand holster and trailed Ron at a discrete distance.

Harry hiked up his dress robes, trying not to crumple the fabric as he emptied his bladder. He really wished he were wearing Muggle trousers; it made urinating so much easier. Harry adjusted his underrobe and smoothed out the heavy black and green dress robe before exiting the restroom stall. He washed his hands, careful not to get water spots on the expensive silk.

The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end as his former best friend spelled the restroom outer door shut. Harry glanced around for escape, for help, but he was alone and a drunken Ron blocked the only exit. The young wizard slid his wand from an inner sleeve, watching the tall red head apprehensively.

"Look at you," Ron snarled, reaching out to finger the heavy silk of Harry’s dress robes. "How many Muggles did you fuck to be able to afford your robe? Or did Snape buy it for you and he’s taking it out in trade, one button at a time?"

Harry held his tongue. He doubted Ron would believe the Corvus disguise, but that was the only card he currently had on the table. When Harry did not reply, Ron shoved the thin wizard and Harry struggled to regain his balance.

"What’s the matter, Harry? Too close to the truth?"

"Step aside. You have obviously confused me with some one else." Harry said flatly as he tried to step around the taller man. "I have no quarrel with you."

It still hurt Harry that Ron could so easily and vindictively turn on him. The red head constantly had a short fuse and was extremely jealous of Harry’s unwanted fame, but Harry always assumed Ron would outgrow his character flaws. He sometimes wondered if, at the end of their fifth year, when the brains in the Department of Mysteries attacked Ron that some of the damage was permanent. His personality changed drastically, seemingly overnight, and Ron’s combative demeanor had driven almost everyone away, even members of his own family.

Ron did not back away. Harry drew his wand. His movement was slow due to years of disuse and Ron’s Quidditch reflexes were sharper, despite his inebriation. Ron pinned him against the wall, tossing the oak wand to the floor. When Harry tried to defend himself, he found his wrists pulled over his head and trapped in a crushing one-handed grip. Reflexively, Harry kicked out with his feet, trying to distract Ron enough to loosen his grip, to cause any damage he could against his larger opponent.

"Get off of me! Let me go! I am not who you think I am." Harry lied. He would valiantly hold to his new identity and deny being Harry Potter. "Please let me go and I won’t tell Severus you assaulted me."

"Severus? On a first name basis with the greasy git? You hate Snape. What happened to you?" Ron hissed into his ear, pushing Harry’s struggling form flat to the wall with his hips. Harry could feel the hard bulge of Ron’s erection pushing into his stomach and memories of Alistair flashed through his mind.

"Some hero you turned out to be...Harry Fucking Potter...Golden Whore of the Battlefield."

"I’m not Harry. My name is Cor.."

Ron savagely kissed him, his teeth smashing roughly against Harry’s. Shifting his hold, Ron kept Harry pinned by his wrists. He brushed back the long pageboy and froze. There was no lightening bolt scar on the smooth forehead. This was not Harry. But his hormones were racing; he was just drunk enough not to think of the consequences. He hiked up Harry’s robes, tearing away the silky boxers beneath, his fingers running up the soft fur of Harry’s thighs.

"So maybe you’re not Harry, but it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re pretty and I want you. I’m going to bury myself deep in your tight little arse."

Harry shuddered as Ron’s hands slipped between them and he heard the sound of a zipper. Harry could feel Ron’s leaking cock against his bare stomach.

"Please...Don’t...I don’t..."

Ron kissed him again. "Don’t play the shy virgin, love. It’s not like I don’t know you’re banging Snape. If you’ll fuck that ugly old queen, you’ll fuck anything...Stop fighting me...I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a real man."

Harry tried to calm himself, willing his panic down. His eyes darted around the tiled room. He thought he caught a movement from one of the stalls, but it was probably wishful thinking on his part. His eyes drifted to the door, wondering why in a ballroom containing hundreds of wizards, no one else had need to use the facilities.

Ron wrapped his hand around Harry’s naked hip, one muscular leg forcing his unwilling companion’s legs to open wider.

"Please...stop..." Harry gasped out again after another brutal kiss. He needed to get control of his situation; he had no desire to be raped in a public restroom by a man he once considered his best friend.

"Please...not like this...you don’t have to hurt me. I can make it good for you."

Ron paused.

"Release my hands so I can touch you" Harry’s tongue flickered over his lower lip, tasting blood where Ron’s violent kisses had split it. He gave Ron a sultry look, thanking his years of modeling. He hoped the tall wizard was still too drunk to analyze his swift acquiescence.

Harry felt the burning tingle as blood rushed into his numb hands. The dull throb told him that his wrists were already bruising. He swallowed his revulsion as he forced himself to wrap his hand around Ron’s erection. His other hand fondled Ron’s testicles. Ron nibbled on Harry’s throat, moaning into the talented massage.

"You like that, don’t you?" Harry purred into his ear as Ron moaned in agreement. The smaller wizard cupped the sensitive organs in his hands. "Then you’ll just love this, my love."

Harry squeezed, his small strong hands twisting and crushing his attackers testicles. Ron released his grip as the unexpected pain coursed through his body. Harry pulled away and bolted for the door.

"Accio wand," he shouted and the oak wand flew across the room and into his outstretched hand. He pointed toward the warded door. "Aloha..."

Ron tackled him from behind. Harry crashed to the floor, feeling a sharp crack as his face slammed into the hard tile of the floor. Blood spurted from his nose. His wand flew once again from his fingers. Furious, Ron rolled him onto his back, pinning him at his shoulders. The silk robe was shoved unceremoniously under his armpits. Ron straddled him, pressing him to the cold tile floor with his weight. "

So, you like it rough, do you? Is that why you let Snape fuck you? You get off on pain?" Ron backhanded his already damaged face. "I can give you pain."

"Severus has always been kind."

Harry didn’t know why he felt compelled to correct Ron’s statement. He turned away as Ron tried to kiss him again. The angry wizard held Harry’s head immobile, forcing his tongue between the bloody lips. Harry bit down, drawing blood. He was about to be taken on a dirty floor and he couldn’t seem to prevent it. At the very least, he hoped Ron’s boast was an idle threat and the man wasn’t a sadist like Alistair.

Huddled in the restroom stall, freelance photographer Colin Creevey took a series of photographs of the horrific scene unfolding across the room. He set his camera on auto shoot, floating it over the top of the stall, and reached for his wand. He wasn’t a very powerful wizard and Ron outweighed him by several stone, but the Gryffindor in him could no longer remain a bystander and watch the attack continue.

Ron forced one of Harry’s legs over his shoulder, ignoring the dull pain of the booted heel kicking without much momentum against his back. The redhead held the tip of his wand against Harry’s anus and cast a lubricating charm.

"Ron...no...don’t." Harry pleaded as a thick finger roughly forced it’s way past the tight ring of muscles. He screamed, "No!"

At the scream, Colin made his move. He held out his wand.

"Leave him alone, Ron," Colin ordered, his wand arm trembling slightly.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "What are you going to do, Creevey? Throw your camera at me?"

"Stup..."

"Petrificus Totalis!"

Harry whimpered when Colin crashed to the floor, mid-curse. Even drunk, Ron’s reflexes were quick.

"Stupid Mudblood," Ron muttered, turning his attention back to Harry, roughly shoving two fingers into him. He stared into the haunted green eyes and knew, scar or not, that this had to be Harry. Harry whimpered as a sharp fingernail scraped down his sensitive tissues.

"You should have stayed away," Ron growled, flexing his fingers in the tight channel. Harry knew he needed to relax or Ron would tear him apart, but his muscles clenched, refusing to cooperate.

"You were supposed to be mine...pretty whore...mine. Even after I showed them what a little slut you were, they all still turned against me." Ron twisted his fingers, brutally. "You even turned my brothers against me...tell me...did you fuck them one at a time or together?"

"Oh Weasel," came a drawling voice from the restroom doorway. "They turned against you because you are a sadistic idiot. You may harbor sexual fantasies about Potter, but your brothers never did...Kind of view him as a black-haired Weasley, don’t you know? They might be into the perverse, but even they wouldn’t touch incest."

Without releasing his grip on Harry, Ron glared over his shoulder to see Draco standing with wand drawn. He had easily disabled Ron’s locking charms. Behind him stood a few curious wizards, a few with wands also drawn, but most merely wanting to use the restroom.

"Before I summon Aurors and have you arrested for raping my godfather’s apprentice, I suggest you release Corvus."

Oliver Wood forced his way into the room and plowed into Ron. The Puddlemere United keeper closed his broad hands around Ron’s freckled throat. He tightened them when he saw the other man’s blood streaked, lubricant coated fingers and knew he’d arrived too late. "You fucking bastard..."

Harry tugged down his robes, trying to salvage what little dignity he still possessed. He knew Ron’s rough handling had damaged him internally; he felt something tear and could see blood on his thighs.

Oliver dragged Ron to his feet, giving him a smile that promised pain if the younger wizard continued to fight. He glanced down at his feet, seeing a bloodied, pale face look up at him. Angelina was right - Harry had come home.

"Are you going to be all right, mate?" He asked gently, pushing away Colin’s hovering camera.

Alerted by Susan, Severus pushed through the crowd milling around the door to the men’s lavatory, the Weasley twins in tow. They saw Oliver Wood strong arm Ron through a crowd of curious spectators, a furious Percy beside him.

"You’ve always been a bit of an arse, Ron but you’ve finally fucked yourself up royally." The Player-Coach hissed. "The Cannons aren’t going to try to bury your actions this time – attacking someone who’s smaller than a third year in the middle of a Ministry ball..."

Severus heard the words "assault", "arrest", "attempted rape" as he forced his way into the tiled room. "Mistaken identity", "thought the kid was Harry Potter", "also attacked the Creevy boy who tried to help." Draco was speaking softly to Harry, handing him back his wand. Behind a quickly conjured privacy screen, Healer Hippocrates Smethwyck was on his knees, his wand quickly cataloging the apprentice’s injuries.

Severus stalked across the tile floor, his robes billowing behind him. He shouldered aside a reporter and met the man’s protestations with a killer’s glare. Severus knelt beside Smethwyck, cupping Harry’s bruised face gently in his palm. His finger ran over his lover’s split lip, softly whispering a healing charm.

Harry’s haunted green eyes looked pleadingly at him, afraid to see revulsion in his dark eyes. Not caring who saw them, Severus wrapped Harry into his arms, feeling the damaged elf shake as sobs racked his body. The dark wizard looked up into the hardened blue eyes of the Weasley twins. George ran his hand down Harry’s disheveled pageboy, smoothing out the tangled locks.

"Professor Snape," Fred said tightly, looking hostilely at the bystanders still hovering at the door. "You need to take Corvus home. Your apprentice does not need to be on public display."