Third Place - Romance

Harry almost fell down into the nearest chair.

Severus watched as Harry's eyes became unfocused. The boy's voice became quiet, intense and unnaturally even, and Snape realised that the boy was actually reliving the memory.

"There are buildings all around me, most of them reduced to rubble. It is growing dark, and the dust and fog have combined to make visibility such that I cannot see more than a foot in front of me. The only indications of light anywhere are flashes of light sparking in the distance, the sign that the battle is still continuing. All of the people in the surrounding area are dead, bodies litter the ground. I cannot see them, but walking is made difficult by their presence. I see a particularly bright patch of glowing in what must be the centre of the town, and I make my way there. There is a large opening, and the fog is less dense. Many wizards have congregated here. To the right of the square are the Death Eater forces, to the left, looking a lot worse off, are the wizards resisting. There is an old man with a long white beard leading them. Dumbledore!"

Severus started as Harry's voice lost it's impassivity and became filled with complete hatred as he spoke the Headmaster's name. Surely the boy did not feel so strongly about Albus?

"I walk to the front of the lines, and begin casting. None can stand against me!"

At this point Snape suddenly realised that, as Harry had seen it through Voldemort's eyes, he had also felt what the Dark Lord was feeling. He knew he ought to try and snap Harry out of the trance, but he desperately wanted to know what had happened. His inner voice told him he was being selfish again. But he needed to know what it had been like there. He needed to ascertain for himself if he could have made a difference. If he could have stopped the deaths.

"They fall before me, so many of them. I do not bother keeping count this time for I know that the Rat will have, so that he can boast of my prowess later. A moment later I see him fall to the other side. It is no great loss, he was starting to annoy me anyway, but now I shall have to find someone new to number my kills for me. It is a matter of pride, after all. I am nearing the old bastard Dumbledore now, he has been making trouble for me and mine for so long. But he cannot take me. He knows that he will lose this fight. Why else would he have avoided it for so long? His defences will not hold too much longer, I can see that he is weakening. Avada Kadav..."

Harry gave a choked gasp and doubled over. Severus hurried to his side, and began trying to rouse him. This had gone on long enough. Harry mattered more than seeing the dead. And the boy was obviously in great pain. He must be living Voldemort's final moments.

"Turn. A man. Not even an Auror. A dagger. Hurts. Hurts so much. Didn't think... it would. One of my death eaters comes up behind him. Vengeance. Hurts. Dumbledore. Flames." Harry's voice trailed off and he went very pale.

"Harry, Harry! Wake up Harry."

Severus held the boy close and willed him to stop the memory. He stroked the boys forehead, and thought he could see a shadow of Harry's old scar glowing. Then it was gone. Harry breathed out.

He didn't breath in again. Snape shook him, frenzied.

"Harry. Harry!" he shouted. The boy couldn't be dead, couldn't be!

Slyrissin, who had been hissing in panic from round Harry's wrist, decided to take matters into her own jaws. Snape looked down to see that the little snake had sunk her fangs deeply into Harry's flesh.

Harry breathed in. The snake let go. Severus reached down and stemmed the twin rivulets of blood with his long fingers. He called the boy's name again, desperate to get some response.

Harry opened his eyes. They were still slightly unclear, but Harry managed a weak smile.

"Hi," he croaked.

Severus helped him to sit up again, still supporting him.

"Well, that was fun. Let's do it again," the boy remarked, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

"You scared me." Snape didn't think he'd ever admitted to being scared before in his life. Being around Harry was certainly providing lots of new experiences. Some, in fact most, of them he would rather not have had.

He gave Harry some water and bound his wrist again. The boy slowly began to recover and Severus moved him out to the living room and made sure he was comfortable on the couch. He felt tempted to ply the boy with cookies, but resisted the urge. If he did it too often then Harry would stop seeing them as treats and no longer want to eat them. He ate little enough of everything else.

Harry was still slightly disorientated, and Snape saw that when he picked up a book to try and read, he merely squinted at it for a few minutes, then put it down and rubbed his temples. The boy turned and stared into the fire. He seemed lost in his thoughts. And knowing the sort of things that Harry was likely to think about, Severus did not believe this to be a good state of affairs.

Once again he would humiliate himself then. His little voice told him that he loved it really. He made a derogatory comment regarding it's ancestry. It just laughed, that it had managed to provoke him so.

"Harry, would you like me to read to you?" There, that didn't hurt.

The boy's head lifted slightly and a shy smile flitted over his face.

"I'd like that. Please."

Severus glanced at the boy's book. Werewolves. He didn't think so. He picked up his own volume on advanced potions and began to read aloud. If Harry didn't like the subject then he could say so. This way at least they would both learn something. There were no objections however, and he lost himself in the words. Fascinating.

Some hours later, the Headmaster arrived. Severus was still reading. Harry was still awake listening to Severus reading.

"Ah, Harry, Severus," Albus greeted them.

"Hello Headmaster," said Harry. Severus glanced at the boy in mild surprise. He was talking to Albus again. Maybe he had overcome the worst of his fears then?

Snape himself merely nodded acknowledgement of the Headmaster's presence. He was still smarting from Albus preventing him helping at the battle. Less people would have died if he had been there. He was sure of it! Simion might not have died.

"How are you doing then Harry?"

"I think that I'm doing alright now sir, thank you."

Severus thought he was going to fall off the couch in shock. Harry was voluntarily telling the Headmaster how he was feeling. This was definitely a marked improvement in the boy. And it appeared to be genuine. Progress. At last.

They told the Headmaster what had happened earlier with Harry's vision. He thanked them for the information and recommended with a laugh in his eyes that Harry not try that again.

"There is one more thing, Severus. Young Mr. Malfoy has nowhere to go now that his parents have been taken to Azkaban. He will have to stay here too. I am sure Harry will not mind sharing with him?"

Harry shook his head. Severus groaned inwardly. The two boys hated each other. They would be squabbling all the time, he could tell. And he was somewhat worried about what Draco's insults could do to Harry, whom he still believed to be quire fragile.

When the Headmaster went to get Draco, he looked at Harry.

"Are you troubled about him being here? I can order him to be civil if you want?"

Harry seemed surprised at the questions.

"No sir, that's fine. I really don't mind. I'm sure we'll manage to get along."

The Headmaster re-entered the room. With Draco trailing behind him.

"I will leave him in your capable hands then Severus. Goodbye, Harry, Draco."

Once he was gone, Draco came nearer. Snape watched him carefully as he looked at Harry. He saw Draco's eyes flick to Harry's wrists, and note the placement of the bandage there from Sylrissin's bite.

The two boys nodded at each other silently. Severus thought that maybe they didn't trust themselves to speak. He was sure that all hell would break loose as soon as he wasn't in the room.

Draco reached over and picked up Sylrissin. Snape expected Harry to protest and the snake to bite, but both seemed unworried as Draco stroked her.

"Her name is Sylrissin," said Harry.

Draco's eyes flew up to meet Harry's in what looked like surprise. Severus thought that maybe he wasn't used to people being nice to him.

Draco nodded. "She's beautiful." They both smiled.

Snape was beyond words. Well, that was unexpected, said his little voice, looks like they won't be at each others throats after all.

They must have grown up while he wasn't looking.

Harry uncurled his legs a bit and moved over so that there was space for Draco to sit down. The two of them started talking about amusing little anecdotes from school, avoiding any sensitive subjects.

Draco must have quite a few of those himself, thought Severus. After all, he had betrayed his family just as Snape had. And he knew that even though Draco had done the right thing, he would still be feeling guilty.

He would have to watch Draco too then.

Dinner was a largely silent affair. Since there were three of them they moved back to the table to eat. Severus noticed that Harry took very little on his plate, and ate even less of it, but didn't want to raise the issue in front of Draco. So he casually dished out some more food to everyone, and gave an extra large portion to Harry.

He was treated to a death glare. But, he was the master of those, and finally forced Harry into submission with a look. He continued monitoring every bite that Harry took. He could see how hard it was for the boy to eat any more, but he really needed to. When Harry had managed to clear most of the plate, and gave him a pleading look, he nodded. Harry left the rest.

The boys were both tired from the stress of their respective days, so quickly went to sleep. Snape removed to his bed-chamber and stayed up thinking.

His whole life was now changed. There was no more Voldemort. He no longer had to live in fear. He no longer had to stay at Hogwarts.

Now that he had the choice, he was no longer sure if he wanted to leave. Perhaps it had only been the restriction of his freedom which irked him, rather than the place he was imprisoned.

He wasn't entirely disappointed that sleep eluded him, the dreams he were likely to have experienced had he done so would not have been pleasant. He read for a while in bed. He missed the fire.

That was the worst thing about having company, he could not wander around his chambers at bizarre hours of the night.

But surely the boys would be asleep now. And he had cultivated quietness over the years to make it easier to sneak up on troublesome students. So he would not disturb them.

He went out into the living room, checked on the boys, then sat in his usual place.

He wasn't sure how long it was before he heard movement behind him. His muscles tensed in anticipation of attack instinctively, but he overrode his body's natural responses and turned stealthily, wanting to know who it was.

Harry was walking across the floor, barefoot and shivering. Towards the bathroom.

Severus sighed inwardly. And turned back to the fire. After a minute his inner voice came back to haunt him. It brought up the possibility that Harry had reverted to his self harm habits. He told it that Harry had been doing much better. It asked him incredulously whether feeling Voldemort die all over again could be classified as better.

He went to check on the boy. Feeling slightly awkward, he tapped lightly on the door and asked if everything was alright.

"Yes," came the soft reply. The toilet was flushed. The door opened. Harry came out.

Snape felt very foolish. He spanked his inner voice, for now Harry would think that he didn't trust him. His inner voice directed him to take a closer look at the boy.

Harry's eyes were glazed over, only slightly. But still. Severus knew that look.

"I need to change the bandage now I think. Let's go into my room so that we don't disturb Draco."

He saw the fear flash in Harry's eyes. Now he was certain.

"It's fine, really. Can't you leave it. I'm so tired." A large exaggerated yawn.

Snape was not fooled. He dragged the boy into his bedchamber and closed the door behind him.

In the living room, Draco's eyes slowly closed as the voices faded away.

As the door to Snape's bedroom shut behind him Harry couldn't help but feel afraid. He hadn't done anything. Not really. He still felt guilty. Why did he feel guilty?

He had never been in here before. Though the nervous tension he was experiencing somewhat lessened his curiosity, it did not eradicate it completely. He had been right in his guess that Snape kept all of his personal items in this chamber. There were shelves and shelves stacked with books, potions and curious little oddities. The walls were bare. There was a deep, soft, luxurious carpet on the floor, which contrasted sharply with the cold tiling in the other rooms. It looked comfortable. There were no chairs.

Snape indicated that he should sit on the bed, so he perched on the edge of the massive four poster.

Kneeling beside him, the professor reached out his hand to start taking the bandage off. Harry flinched away, drawing his arm out of Snape's range. This caused the other man's face to become serious. Oh no, thought Harry. But he hadn't done anything. Not really.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Tell him about what? There was nothing to tell. Why did everyone act like he was going to try and kill himself again. He hadn't even meant to the first time, he had just cut too deep while he wasn't thinking about it. He wouldn't have done it on purpose.

"Harry."

Merlin, the way Snape said his name like that made him feel like he was keeping a dozen deadly secrets. And should disclose them all immediately.

"I'm fine, I didn't do anything!"

A snort of disbelief. Snape got up and started pacing, muttering to himself. Harry could make out very little.

"Why didn't I feel anything? I should have known," he heard.

When Snape had apparently exhausted his own conversation, he turned back to Harry.

"Tell me what happened."

Harry just glared at him. He didn't need to talk about this. Why was everyone always pestering him? He was fine!

"Harry, you can tell me. Please tell me."

"Leave me alone."

Snape reached for his arm again, he shoved his professor away and scrambled backwards. He didn't need looking after like this.

He quickly moved to the door and found it locked. He was locked in. He hated being locked in. It reminded him of the cupboard. And the darkness. And he didn't want to be reminded of those things.

"Let me out, please let me out," he begged in a small voice, face against the door, hand clutching the handle.

"Harry." The voice was gentler now. It didn't make him feel any better. "Harry talk to me."

He turned. Snape was sitting on the bed.

"I really haven't done anything wrong you know," he tried to inject an indignant tone into his words.

"Then let me look at your wrist."

Harry wasn't sure why he didn't want Snape to look at his arm. But there was a reason somewhere. It made his stomach clench painfully.

"There's nothing wrong with it." His voice was becoming panicked. Why was that? If he hadn't done anything wrong, then he shouldn't be worried. Harry stared down at his own wrist for a while, trying to remember.

Snape's hands entered his field of view, and he jerked back in alarm.

"It's all right, Harry."

The hands took hold of his wrist, turned it, undid the bandage, peeled it away.

There were no new gashes. What was all fuss about then? Harry mused to himself on why he had not wanted Snape to see. Then he looked closer at the two bite marks. They were bleeding. Very small but deep incisions had been made around the edges of the bites, to try and disguise their presence. Clever. How had he thought of that? Just as well Sylrissin hadn't been with him. He remembered leaving her behind. He wasn't sure if he could remember making the cuts though. Strange.

Snape wasn't fooled, he could tell with a look. Harry felt slightly faint.

He was guided to the bed, and sat down.

"Harry. Harry, look at me."

He dragged his eyes up from staring at his arm. When had he done that? He had been in the bathroom. He must have cut himself there. But he had tried not to. Now he remembered. He'd transfigured a toothbrush into a small blade. But he'd tried so hard not to need to. He let out a small whimper.

"Harry?" No sound but their breathing for a time then, "Shall I get you some cookies?"

Harry relaxed. This was Snape. Snape who had tended to him over the holidays, who had held him through his nightmares. Snape who had listened. Snape who said he cared.

"I didn't mean to." He heard the waver in his own voice and told himself to grow up. Then decided that attitude hadn't got him very far, and had merely led to him cutting again.

"I couldn't get to sleep. I was afraid to. I knew I shouldn't be, because He's gone now, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. About how it felt."

Pause to catch breath, which was starting to become fast and shallow. Calm. Be calm.

"I felt sick. I haven't eaten that much in forever." He turned a reproachful look on Snape. "So I went to the bathroom and threw up."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

Harry was startled by the interruption. And by what had been asked. He frowned in puzzlement. "On purpose? I only just made it in time. I doubt that you would want to redo your floors in puke yellow. It felt awful."

He went quiet, the memories he had been subconsciously blocking off coming back.

"Harry? What happened then?"

"I don't..." Harry swallowed thickly. "The taste. The taste in my mouth. Somehow it reminded me of when Voldemort died. I think he might have been sick too. It's all so hazy. And then I thought about the pain. And how I couldn't even kill Voldemort like everyone expected me too. What else am I good for?" he mumbled to himself. "And I wanted to know, what it was that made me feel alive again when she bit me. So I took off the bandage, just to see. And the red was fading. I thought that maybe if I brought the red back then it would feel like it did to start with."

A tear dripped down his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know why I hid it. I just felt so guilty when I heard the knock. I thought you'd be so disappointed in me." His voice hitched.

Snape sighed, and wrapped an arm loosely around Harry. "I'm not disappointed in you, though I wish you had told me sooner. Harry, you didn't need to cut yourself, you should have come and talked to me instead. I could have helped you."

It wasn't as though he hadn't thought of that. But what if he had gone to Snape and been turned away? He didn't think he could have taken that again.

"But I thought that you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Harry, it doesn't matter if I am asleep. In the future, promise me that you will come to me straight away if you feel like that."

Snape cared. It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone did. Harry liked it. He nodded tentatively. "But..."

"I would never turn you away."

Harry dropped his head. Accusations ran through his mind. But he uttered none of them. He couldn't, not to the only person who seemed to care at all whether Harry lived or died. Snape seemed to know what he was thinking anyway. He sighed again.

"I know Harry, I know. But I explained why I treated you that way and I am very sorry for it. It will not happen again, no matter how cranky I am."

Harry's lips curved into a smile at hearing the word 'cranky' issued from the professor's mouth.

"Will you be alright going back to sleep now?" asked Snape.

He cares. He cares. Harry would be honest then.

"I think so. It might take a while, but I'm not so afraid anymore, and I don't feel sick. I think I can sleep."

Snape smiled at his honesty. "Good." He unlocked the door. Harry felt relieved as he heard it click open. "Now, come and get me if you need anything."

"Yes, sir, I will." He hesitated for a moment, then, realising it was something which shouldn't be prompted, said, "I promise to tell you if I feel like that again."

Snape nodded, he looked pleased. Harry went back to lie in his own bed. Sylrissin scolded him roundly, but forgave him when she snuggled up to his warmth.

"Are you alright?" came the whispered undertone from the other bed.

Draco. Oh well, he didn't think he could sleep straight away anyway.

"Yeah, Snape just had to change the bandage on my arm."

"What happened?"

"My snake bit me."

"Why don't I believe that. That's the worst excuse I've ever heard. And I've heard a lot. You're a parseltongue, why would the snake bite you? What did you really do?"

It was pointless arguing that Sylrissin actually had bitten him. He was too tired to bother anyway.

"I was feeling shite and sick, so I cut myself."

Oh My God, did he really just say that? Wow. It was sort of true. He'd never looked at it like that before.

"And Snape caught you?"

"Yeah, he read me this long lecture about never doing it again."

"I've thought about it, suicide I mean, but there was always something... I don't know."

"I wasn't trying to commit suicide. I'm not that crazy!" said Harry defensively.

"Well why were you cutting yourself then? If you were doing it for fun then that's far more crazy than trying to kill yourself."

"No, it's just that... I mean, I could never kill myself, because there was always too much depending on me, and Sirius would have... although I suppose now, there's no reason why I shouldn't."

"Yes there is," said Draco firmly. "Even if you can't think of it. You have to stay, if only so that I'm not left alone with Snape. He really hates me, you know, because of my father."

Harry laughed weakly. "I had the same problem. I think he got over it though. And, considering what you did, he can't really treat you like your father anymore, can he?"

Draco just grunted. "Then there's your cute little snake. You have to be alive to stop her from biting me. I'm sure she'd be really vicious in her grief. And you can't die because..." his voice grew really soft and Harry strained to hear it, "because then I'll have no one to talk to anymore."

So, it seemed as though more than one person cared about him. That was Snape, Draco and Sylrissin. His new reasons for living.

"I'm sorry about your parents," he said sleepily.

"Don't be," Draco replied, "They were pretty evil."

"I'm sorry all the same. Whatever they were like, you must miss them."

"I do."

They were quiet then. Harry tried not to think about the cutting, or the depression. He thought about flying. Then he remembered that the Dursleys burned his broom.

He thought about freedom, and how he was finally getting closer to it.

He thought about how he was no longer alone.

Flawed Lines - Chapter 14

Back to Chapter 12

Back to Results