A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight
Past Featured StorySummary: A letter from home sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. Spoilers for the first five books. Have fun!
Categories: Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Remus
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Slytherin!Harry, SuperPower! Harry
Takes Place: 6th Year
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Neglect, Self-harm, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: A Year Like None Other
Chapters: 96 Completed: Yes Word count: 810080 Read: 1379905 Published: 28 Feb 2007 Updated: 14 Sep 2007
Obliviate by aspeninthesunlight

The owl came during lunchtime, a week and a half later.

Harry stared at the Muggle envelope, half-afraid to open it. He didn't want to know the test results, not really. He didn't want to go back to Frimley Park and have a big needle stuck in his hip, all the way through to bone, and lie there as his marrow was sucked out. Sure, he'd told Snape that if he'd survived the Cruciatus curse he could survive anything, but looking back, that sounded like bragging. Like arrogance. 

Strange that Snape hadn't called him on it, considering all he'd had to say in years past regarding Harry and arrogance...

Well, bragging that he could take anything was well and good, but now that he had this letter in hand, he was realizing that he really didn't want to follow through on what he'd promised back in Surrey. No hope for it, though, right? Not unless the letter said he wasn't compatible, after all. But what chance was there of that? Harry doubted that Uncle Vernon would bother to write, were that the case. This letter had to mean what he thought; it just had to.

Without really intending to, Harry found himself glancing up towards the raised platform where the teacher's table was. Snape was leaning over, deep in conversation with Madam Pomfrey, something he'd been doing a lot, lately. Well, what had he expected? The Potions Master wasn't going to pay any attention to Harry in public --well, not any attention except the thoroughly negative kind, that was.

"Don't let the Muggles get you down," Ron said by way of sympathy. "Your last visit went all right, it seemed. Yeah?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, slipping a knife beneath the flap and drawing out a sheet of paper. What he saw there made his eyes bug out a little.

It wasn't a letter from Uncle Vernon at all, it was a single page of densely typed medical information summarizing, Harry supposed, all his test results. He couldn't make much sense of it, except for a few lines at the bottom.

Compatibility factor: .93 (.85 is the minimum threshold for transplant.)
Please report to Frimley Park Hospital at 8:00 a.m. on October 22 for the extraction procedure. If you are unable to make this appointment, inform us in writing at Frimley Park Hospital: Oncology, Portsmouth Road, Frimley, Surrey GU16 7UJ or ring us at 01287 408965
.

It all sounded so... official, Harry thought, as he felt the blood in his face rush down towards his stomach, which was twisting itself in knots already. The letter slipped through his fingers to flutter to the floor.

"What is it?" Hermione asked at once, her fork clattering to her plate as she put an arm around Harry and turned him to look at her. Lowering her voice, she barely breathed, "Your scar?"

"Er... no," he croaked, wondering what on earth was wrong with him. It was just a needle, right? It was just a big, long, needle spearing through his pelvis, going all the way into bone, six times, or maybe eight...

Ron had leaned under the table to scoop up the letter, but he didn't try to read it, just handed it back across the table to Harry. 

Hermione had no such compunctions. Snatching the letter from Ron's fingers, she scanned the page, her eyes rapidly assessing the text. "Harry..."

"Not here," Harry hissed. Yanking the letter back, he stuffed it into his pocket and stood on unsteady feet. "Room of Requirement. Now."

He didn't notice Snape's black eyes watching as he left the dining hall, his two friends in tow.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Are you going to explain?" Hermione challenged, hands on hips as she stood on a Persian carpet. All along the base of the walls, incense holders, some of them shaped like Aladdin's lamp, were sending pungent smoke aloft. "And what sort of room did you wish for, anyway? This place looks like... a... a harem!"

"I think the room's just trying to calm me down," Harry murmured. "I'm kinda worried about--"

"About your transplant?" Hermione demanded. "Harry Potter, you will tell me right here and now just what is going on!"

"No, he will not," another voice smoothly answered as Snape slid into the room, closed the door, and crossed his arms. After only a moment more, however, he was turning back towards the entrance and casting several silencing charms upon it. Then he strode forward, black robes swirling as though a tempest were spinning inside him.

"Look, I have to tell them," Harry explained, feeling defeated by the whole situation. "Hermione saw the letter. She's going to figure it all out, anyway."

"Not after Obliviate," Snape mercilessly sneered.

Harry jumped to his feet, all apathy vanishing. "No!" he shouted, but Snape was already pointing his wand, an ugly light in his eyes as he began to twirl it in a way Harry recognised, for all the motion was less theatrical than the one Lockhart had used down in the Chamber of Secrets. 

Hermione was fumbling in her robes, trying to draw her own wand; Ron's was out already, and pointing; Snape at once incanted, "Accio wands!"

Harry's wand flew out of his pocket.

Snape deftly caught all three as they sailed his way, and tucked them away in his cloak as he continued to stare at Hermione, his wand still swirling in that disturbing arc that meant Obliviate might be only a heartbeat away. 

Furious, Harry stomped up to Snape and tilting his face up, yelled, "Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare, you got that?"

Ron's eyes went huge. "A thousand points from Gryffindor," he moaned, though points were the least of their problems at the moment.

"Oh, shut up," Harry spat. "He's not going to take points, and if he does, it'll be well worth it." Then he spun his head back to face Snape. "Just read it for yourself, all right? And then we'll figure the rest of it out." 

With that, Harry thrust the sloppily folded letter up at his teacher, and ignoring that damned wand, still pointed, turned to look at Hermione.

She had sunk to the floor, and was hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. Ron was doing nothing more helpful than muttering, which irritated Harry no end. Kneeling beside Hermione, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to breathe against her ear, "Shhh, it's all right. He won't do it. I swear he won't. I'll tell you later how I know, but I know, all right. Trust me, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, and stopped her frenetic motion, but she still looked worried.

When Snape stopped reading, he addressed himself to Harry. "I am seriously disappointed, Mr Potter, that once again, you cannot manage the simple matter of keeping your post to yourself!"

Ron's courage came sailing back upon hearing his friend unfairly attacked. "That's rich!" he yelled. "You're the one who takes his letters away to read them out loud, sir."

"Keep your mouth closed, Mr Weasley, or it will be points from Gryffindor," Snape growled, which did have the effect of shutting Ron up, though his eyes flashed a question at Harry: After what you said, he's not going to take points? 

"I'm sorry I dropped the letter, Professor," Harry told Snape, keeping his tone even as he stood up. It was almost killing him to not give vent to anger, but the instinct that had helped him survive five years of trials was telling him not to escalate the situation further.

The tactic seemed to help, at least. When Snape next spoke, his tone was matter-of-fact rather than snide. "Obliviate really would be the simplest solution."

"No," Harry insisted. "You can't. If you do that to her, I'll explain the whole situation, every last detail. And I'll do it as many times as you use Obliviate, so there's not much point."

Snape's eyes flashed. "Perhaps I should just wipe your memory clean then, as well!"

"I don't think Dumbledore will approve of you obliviating any of us," Harry retorted, refusing to fold.

"Sometimes I really do hate you, Potter," Snape snapped back, while from behind Ron mouthed only sometimes? "All right, Miss Granger, calm down. I suppose Mr Potter has convinced me to leave your considerable intellect intact. Do try to use it for something other than showing off, will you?"

Hermione dusted herself off, though she wasn't dusty, and waved a bit at the smoke coming from the nearest genie's lamp, but when Ron finally went to her, she all but collapsed against him.

"Sir?" Harry asked, indicating the pillow strewn floor. "Please."

Snape scowled, but he did sit down cross-legged on the floor, his robes pooling around him. Only after Harry had sat as well did he speak.

"We seem to have a situation," he sneered. "Miss Granger knows more than she should, and no doubt Mr Weasley will weasel what she knows out of her during a passionate tryst, or what passes for grand passion among inept sixteen-year-olds."

"Can we do this without the insults?" Harry requested, which got him a baleful glare. But what was the point of Snape going on like that? Ron and Hermione both would already have figured out that something was up. They'd seen Harry swear at Snape and get away with it, so there was no sense in pretending, not with them, that the old animosity was still as thick and potent as ever.

Although, Harry thought, after this, all the old animosity might come roaring right back.

He was surprised at how much the thought dismayed him.

"It's Order business," Harry thought to say to his friends, since Snape had gone silent. Maybe without the insults, he just didn't know how to talk to students? No, that wasn't fair; he'd done all right with Harry in Surrey... "So I really can't talk about it," Harry concluded. "Sorry."

"How is it Order business that you need a transplant?" Hermione looked up to say. "And since when are you in the Order?"

"I'm not in it," Harry confirmed. "I'm just involved, as usual. And as for the other, you'll just have to trust me, Hermione."

Tears filled her eyes. "But a transplant, Harry? I know, I know, you were Muggle-raised like me, so maybe you don't know, but you really shouldn't be going to a doctor for a procedure like that." Wrenching herself away from Ron, she leaned forward to rest a hand against Harry's knee. "Isn't there something else that can be done? Have you been to St. Mungo's, spoken to a healer, something?"

Snape stepped into the conversation, his voice markedly calmer. "I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that in this particular case, magical remedies will not prove efficacious." He paused, clearly reluctant, but finally went on, "May I have your word, yours and Mr Weasley's both, that you will not press Harry for more information? That you will not investigate on your own? I cannot stress this more strongly: delving into this issue will put his life at risk. I think it's been at risk quite enough in the past few years, don't you agree?"

Ron was staring open-mouthed, but he managed to nod in reply.

"Miss Granger?"

When Hermione hesitated, Harry reached down and caught hold of her hand, still resting on his knee. "I'm not in danger," he assured her. "Not unless you start to pry, which could end up calling more attention to my... situation."

"But Muggle doctors," she softly moaned, meeting his eyes. "Harry, I nearly died twice before my parents figured out to steer me clear of doctors. They thought I was allergic, to medicines, immunizations, whatnot, but it wasn't an allergy. It was my magic, not wanting to be trampled."

Harry thought better than to tell her his own Muggle doctor horror story. "I know what I'm doing," he said instead, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. "And Professor Snape knows."

"That's not exactly reassuring, mate," Ron broke in, with a sideways glare at the professor, who raised his nose a bit, as though even incense couldn't mask the stench of a Weasley sitting five feet away.

"Well, Dumbledore knows, too, all right?" Harry tried, then realised he didn't know that for a fact. "Um, you did tell him?" he asked Snape.

"The headmaster was disappointed you didn't come to see him, yourself," Snape pointedly answered. "But yes, he knows the particulars of your situation."

"And he approves?" Hermione challenged.

"It's not an ideal situation, Miss Granger!" Snape bit out. "But we will all do our best if you will be so kind as to let us!"

"Promise me, Hermione," Harry begged, scared that if she objected too much more, Snape just might Obliviate her after all. "Promise you won't interfere. I'll tell you about it when I can--"

"Mr Potter!"

"When I can," Harry stressed. "Hermione? Promise."

"Oh, all right," she grudgingly agreed.

Snape audibly scoffed. 

"I won't do a thing to find out more!" Hermione insisted, letting go of Harry's hand and sitting up straight. "Harry has my word on it."

"Break your word," Snape sneered, "and I'll not only see you expelled for phenomenally bad judgment, I'll use every Dark Art at my disposal to hex you into a quavering ball of mush!"

Harry sighed, thought about offering a calm Hey, don't threaten my friends, but decided he'd better not. He'd presumed enough, already, and for all he knew, Snape was heartily wishing he'd never gone to Surrey at all.

Hermione made things worse, though that wasn't her intention. "I don't break my word, sir," she haughtily replied, sniffing as though the very idea was offensive. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"So was Peter Pettigrew," Snape caustically replied, yanking his robes tightly around him as he rose to his feet. "There's nothing sacred about your house, loath though I am to destroy the pathetic misconceptions that no doubt lull you to sleep at night. Or is that Mr Weasley's job?"

"Professor," Harry warned. 

"Potter," he mocked back. 

Harry sighed. He didn't really know what to say to the man. Everything had been so much simpler in Surrey... of course, it hadn't seemed that way at the time, had it?

"May I have my letter back?" 

"No," Snape said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

"It is his," Hermione pointed out, though Harry tried to shush her.

Snape's only reply was to toss three wands onto the Persian carpet underfoot before he stalked out.

-----------------------------------------------------------

 "What the hell was that, Harry?" Ron demanded the minute the door slammed shut.

Harry put a finger to his lips as he fetched his wand and performed the most thorough Silencio he could. He hoped it would be enough; he didn't know how to cast Imperforable. Gesturing to his friends to join him at the far side of the room, he sat with them on the cold granite floor. When Snape had slammed the door upon leaving, the harem scene had vanished, but that was all right; Harry didn't think it had been what he'd needed, anyway.

"Use quiet voices," he cautioned.

"All right," Ron whispered back. "What the hell was that? Answer me, this time."

"It's true that I can't tell you what I'd like to," Harry stressed.

"That's not what I'm asking and you know it," Ron shot back, his whisper furious, this time. "What was that with Snape? I'm sorry I dropped the letter, Professor!" he snidely mimicked. "What was that, Harry? He tortures you in Potions, makes fun of your scar and encourages the Slytherins to do the same, assigns you an extra test for no reason at all and gives you detention because you actually do it, then tries to hex Hermione right of of her mind, and all you can do is ask him to sit down, please. You practically offered him tea!"

"Don't be a prat," Harry growled. "I stopped him from hexing Hermione! All you could do about it was mumble about our stupid house points!"

"Stupid!" Ron objected.

"Yeah, stupid," Harry confirmed. 

Ron looked to say more, but Hermione held up a hand to confirm, "Compared to what Harry's facing, Ron, they are." With that, she leaned in so close that her nose nearly bumped Harry's. "You said he wouldn't really do Obliviate. I guess you were right, but what made you so sure?"

Harry's answering smile was grim. "I know for a fact that he can do it without a wand, that's how," he explained, thinking of Snape spelling the reception nurse at Frimley Park. "He was putting on a big show of doing it, but if he'd really intended to do it, he'd have just gone ahead."

"Vicious bastard," Ron breathed. "Making Hermione think a thing like that. What did she ever do to him?"

Good question, Harry realised, but there was in fact an answer. "Well, third year all three of us did hex him," he remembered out loud. "And we never even got punished. For attacking a teacher! I'm thinking that little scene, taking our wands, was Snape's way of getting even."

Yeah, he's big on things being even....

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," Harry continued, still in a whisper so low that Silencio probably wasn't even necessary. "What matters is that you do keep your own counsel, both of you. I'll have to go away again --don't ask me for what, but I bet you can guess-- and while I'm gone, you just stick to whatever cover story I spread around the Tower, all right? It's important. Not just for me, but for the war."

"We'd never endanger you, Harry," Hermione swore. "Are you... I mean, can I ask, are you going to be gone for more than a weekend, this time?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But do what you can to keep me up in class, will you?" He paused, uncomfortable. "Are we all right, now? I can't tell you, and I'm sorry I can't tell you, but I will let you in on everything just as soon as it's all... settled."

"Well, we weren't going to stop being your friends, Harry," Hermione said in a startled tone. "We love you."

Harry hugged them, wishing he could tell them how scared he was. But he couldn't. All he could do was hang on.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The stairways in Gryffindor Tower were misbehaving more than usual, Harry thought as he trudged upward in Ron and Hermione's wake, but all was explained when he saw the Potions Master lurking in the shadows, crooking one tapered finger to indicate that Harry should follow.

Harry hesitated, hating all the subterfuge, but with a sigh, acquiesced.

"Hey," he called up the staircase, "I'm going to go talk to Dobby for a bit, all right?"

"Bring us back some pudding," Ron said as he and Hermione turned a corner. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Snape didn't speak until he had drawn Harry into an unused office halfway to the dungeons and cast wards across the door. It was pitch black inside, and Harry was tempted to get out his wand and utter Lumos, but he decided he'd just as soon not see the look on his teacher's face.

"I've discussed your letter with the headmaster," Snape announced, his deep voice eerie in the dark. "Be prepared to floo out of here early in the morning on the 22nd. We'll use his office as before."

"We?" After the scene in the Room of Requirement, Harry hadn't been sure.

"After a fashion." Snape curled a lip. "I'll look once more like that beast you call a friend."

Harry thought that over, surprised to find himself a little disappointed. He didn't like it, he realised, when the boundary between Snape and Remus blurred beyond recognition. He liked even less the feeling of not knowing where he stood. Things had been clear, before. Convoluted, but clear, if that made sense. Now, everything was in murk. "I suppose the disguise is necessary," Harry murmured. "Um, sir?"

He could almost feel Snape's glance as it speared him through the blackness. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry I had to yell at you."

"Is that supposed to be an apology, Potter?"

It took Harry a moment to figure out what his teacher meant, then he felt a little chagrined, though it was difficult to figure out why. "Yes, sir. It was supposed to be."

A low noise echoed off the granite walls. Harry was slow to recognise it as dark, grim laughter.  "Sir?"

"I was just thinking of Mr Weasley's face when you uttered that foul word."

"Oh," replied Harry, not sure what to say to that. "Well then, good night, sir."

"A moment, Mr Potter."

Harry turned back, nervous despite Snape's apparent calm. But of course he couldn't see the man, so maybe that accounted for his feeling of unease.

"Why did you say the matter had to do with the Order?" 

Harry shifted on his feet. "Doesn't it? I figured if it's Order business to stand guard duty on me all summer, then my wards would be, too, and by extension this whole... project. Why?"

"Mention of the Order was the one thing likely to gain your friends' agreement to our terms."

"Uh-huh," Harry returned, still feeling confused.

Robes rustled as Snape swept nearer. "I'd thought you'd said it to manoeuvre them."

Slytherin, Harry thought, and winced. "No. Just being honest. As much as I could."

Snape raised his voice a fraction. "Do you believe Miss Granger to be just as honest? If she scurries to the library to investigate,  and Mr Malfoy makes it his business to follow her research track, the Death Eaters could well reason out what you are doing, and why."

Harry shook his head in the dark. "Malfoy's not so likely to follow Hermione around the library, Professor."

"I assure you, it is all too likely he will do precisely that," Snape snapped. "He'll suspect she knows something about your disappearance. He'll be looking for any clue he can pass to his father!" Another rustle, and the voice spoke right beside his ear. "Lucius Malfoy will not hesitate to kill your aunt and cousin, Mr Potter, to dismantle the wards. And you will be next."

"I trust Hermione," Harry insisted. "And Ron."

"The Dark Lord trusts me." The warning chilled the air where they stood.

"Yeah, but you're a Slytherin," Harry protested, shivering. "You know how to play both ends against the middle. Hermione's a ..." He didn't want to say Gryffindor and get insulted. "She's a friend," he concluded.

"She does care for you," Snape commented, sounding a trifle puzzled. "Deeply."

"You think it's strange that someone might care for me?" Harry bit out. 

"I did not say that."

"Then why'd you sound so mystified?" Harry retorted, wondering if this whole conversation wasn't just one more exercise in Slytherin cunning.

"Because a person's loyalty is most often only to himself."

"You need to get out of the dungeons more," Harry told him. "Can I go? It's almost curfew and I still have to make it to the kitchens before I go up to the Tower."

"The 22nd," Snape reminded him. "Early. Bring your books again. You may need something to read as you... recover."

Recover. Harry didn't like the sound of that. He was used to an overnight stay in the hospital wing fixing just about anything. While he was still thinking about that, Snape recited something soft and Latin, then opened the door. 

The End.
End Notes:

Coming Soon in A Year Like None Other:

Chapter Twelve: Heart to Heart

~

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight



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