In Blood Only by EM Snape
Past Featured StorySummary: Everyone is dismayed to learn Snape is Harry's father. Especially Snape and Harry.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dumbledore, Hermione, Lucius, Remus, Ron, Tonks
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: None
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Character Death, Torture
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 45 Completed: Yes Word count: 173775 Read: 400854 Published: 29 Jan 2005 Updated: 28 Aug 2006
Things fall apart by EM Snape

Wormtail whimpered as Harry pressed his finger to the Dark Mark on his forearm. Bellatrix's gleeful voice carried on in the background.

"… simply marvelous, Master…" Bellatrix plucked up her blood-sodden robes delicately, as though preparing to curtsey. "The children were screaming, and we lured the aurors from the perimeter and straight to Macnair. They were surrounded… you could practically taste their fear—"

Harry's attention strayed to Malfoy, who stood half-hidden in the shadows, looking irate.

"You are displeased, Lucius," Harry noted in a thin, cold voice. "I find that strange, given the success of your raid."

Lucius jumped to attention, and Bellatrix fell respectfully silent.

"Of course I am pleased, Master." Harry's eyes narrowed as Lucius clearly fumbled for an excuse. "I am merely… disgusted." At Harry's severe look, Lucius gestured to Bellatrix. "It's indecent for her to appear before you in that state!"

Bellatrix smiled down at her ruined attire. "Afraid of a little blood, cousin?"

Lucius watched her with unvarnished disdain. "You are filthy. And you smell. Such a crude method of slaying— conjuring a knife? Are we now stooping to the level of Muggles?… Not to mention, I distinctly recall Narcissa spending several thousand galleons buying you that robe. I will not permit her to waste thousands more buying you a new one!"

Bellatrix issued a cackling laugh, fingering the blood-soaked fabric. "You have no appreciation for art, dear cousin… dear brother. You should have seen her face… She was already half a Muggle, so I thought it fitting to kill her like one."

"I would refrain from criticizing Bella, my miserly friend," Harry warned him, his lips curling in amusement at the scene. "A cousin, and now a niece… I rather think she could dispose of a brother-in-law."

"That half-blood filth was no relative of mine," Bellatrix spat, before added in a deferential purr, "If it pleases you, Master."

Harry felt a flare of irritation at Bellatrix for contradicting him, but the crack of wizards apparating—

"Harry, wake up."

Harry opened his eyes, trying desperately to cling to the fleeting details of his latest vision. His scar throbbed like a jackhammer pounding his forehead. Remus was shaking him awake. Apparently the carriage had finally arrived at Hogwarts, after taking a long, roundabout route to avoid any Death Eaters hoping to ambush the Boy Who Lived.

It took a moment for it all to come back to him.

Hogsmeade. The attack. Hermione.

"Hermione!" Harry said breathlessly.

"She'll already be in the Hospital Wing," Remus said gently. "Harry, I—"

Harry slipped under his arm and ran.

* * *

Snape finally made his way out of the Hospital Wing as the victims of the attack upon Hogsmeade flooded in. His mark was burning, and the Headmaster's faint nod of approval sent him rushing from Hogwarts grounds to apparate to his other master.

The meeting was largely a self-congratulatory one. Snape's only role was to report exactly how many aurors had been killed— nine, with two in critical condition— and from there it degenerated into the Dark Lord perching in his makeshift throne as his followers praised his cunning.

It wasn't until the inner circle retreated to a smaller sanctum, and the masks came off, that Snape saw Lucius for the first time since their confrontation. He looked for all the world like he was sulking because his Master had received all the credit for the Hogsmeade attack he himself had planned.

But Snape knew better.

Lucius had planned that attack with the sole object of retrieving his own son amidst the chaos. Snape had encountered the shaken boy in the hospital wing, so Lucius had clearly failed.

He sidled up to Malfoy, who for his part, ignored him.

"A fine attempt, Lucius," Snape whispered. "Do you realize you nearly got your own son kissed by a Dementor? He had to be rescued. By Harry Potter."

Lucius glanced at him sharply, abandoning his show of indifference.

"Yes, you nearly killed your own son," Snape said softly, smiling. "He soiled himself in the carriage on the way back to Hogwarts… he was so very terrified."

Lucius's expression hardened. "You lie."

"I was there when they brought him into the Hospital Wing," Snape reminded him coldly. "How would he feel, knowing his own father had orchestrated the attack that nearly killed him?"

"You stay away from my son!" Lucius rasped.

"Then cease this foolishness, and accept that we are even!"

"Even?" Lucius hissed. "You have robbed me of my dignity, my position—"

"I could still take a good deal more," Snape warned him coldly. "Our Master's suspicions about your loyalty may have waned, but it would be easy enough to stir them back to life."

Lucius glared at him. "You have my son, Severus. That is the only reason I might indulge you in a temporary truce." He drew himself to his fullest height, looming over Snape malevolently. "But I swear, you will not have him for much longer. And your precious Sept—"

"Do not speak that name!" Snape snarled. "Will your idiocy compound your failure—"

"What failure?"

Bellatrix's sharp voice startled both men. She'd swept soundlessly up to them, and Snape saw his own unease fleetingly reflected in Lucius's expression.

"A Potions matter," Snape said smoothly, a smile curling over his lips. "Lucius has been unsuccessful in his attempts to secure me the necessary elements for an elixir he commissioned."

"All in good time, Severus," Lucius purred. "I told you to have patience." For once, it worked to Severus's benefit that Lucius was an accomplished liar.

Bellatrix glanced between the two speculatively for a long moment. The careful scrutiny threatened to shred Snape's last nerves. He knew the woman was mad, and worse, trusted above all others by the Dark Lord. Although Lucius had somehow utilized her in the hunt for Septimus without revealing the boy's relation to Snape— and for the life of him, Severus couldn't guess how— he dared not pique her curiosity now.

Evidently, he was not the focus of her interest. Her eyes settled like two hard flints upon Malfoy.

"Now, now, Severus… my dear cousin can never be counted upon to deliver his promises." She stalked over to Malfoy, scorn dripping from her voice. "He promised me a delicious present, raised my poor hopes, only to break little Bella's heart in the end. I fear he's not worthy of our trust."

"I've already told you, Bella, that I'll get it for you later…" Lucius's said patiently, "Or maybe something even better."

"Thank you," Bellatrix said in a soft, lethal voice, "but I don't care for your empty words. In the future I'll look elsewhere…"

Snape felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest as she swept past them; he always felt uncomfortable under the woman's fanatical eyes.

But he stiffened when she halted, and whirled around with an eerie grin. Luckily, her attention was still directed towards Malfoy.

"Think, dear brother… that's two Black sisters now who have given up upon you satisfying their needs!"

Lucius paled in mortification.

With a cruel, bubbly laugh, Bellatrix sauntered away. Malfoy stared after her darkly, looking ready to strangle someone.

Apparently he decided that someone was Severus, because the glare he sent him was filled with deadly promise. "This is your fault, Severus!"

"With your diminished status, Julian was certain to surface," Snape said dismissively. "Your wife's wayward interest is simply too great a humiliation to remain secret for long."

Don't say it… Don't say it…

It was too great a dig to resist.

"I wonder, though," Snape added softly, smiling maliciously. "What is more humiliating? The inadequacy that drove your wife from you, or the passive acceptance you evince towards her taking another lover?"

He wanted to feel that old satisfaction when Lucius stormed away, but instead there was a sick feeling of dread that he'd somehow made matters worse.

How could they be worse? He's already doing his utmost to destroy me… to destroy Harry…

That damn boy. If it weren't for him, he could sit back and enjoy Lucius's enmity, and wait with anticipation for the moment he could counter Malfoy's next move. Now he had to worry about whether Lucius's next blow would be directed at him, or at Septimus.

The blasted Weasleys treated parenthood like one exciting, rewarding romp. Severus was merely finding it the doorway to an entirely new realm of fears.

* * *

It had never taken him so long to get to the Hospital Wing. Corridors led into corridors, stairs stretched endlessly above him. It was with such profound relief that he finally approached it, that he didn't even notice Draco Malfoy until the other boy grabbed his arm and yanked him to an abrupt halt.

"What, Malfoy?" he asked tersely, his every muscle tight with restless energy. He didn't want to talk to Malfoy now. He didn't have time for this!

"I don't know what you thought you were doing," Draco said viciously, his pale, pointed face menacing in the torchlight, "but we're not friends. I'm not going to suddenly forgive you for the past six years because you decided to show off your Patronus. So don't expect me to fawn over you now like all those other idiots."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy. I don't care!"

He shot past Draco, but the other boy grasped his arm again and pulled him back.

"Why did you do it, then?" Draco demanded in a trembling voice. "What do you want from me?"

Harry trailed his eyes to Draco's gray ones, marveling that he could still pity the other boy even through his terrible worry for Hermione. Draco couldn’t conceive of helping another person without some motive for personal gain.

Harry pulled tentatively at his grip. "I don't want anything from you, Draco… I told you I wasn't just going to let you die."

"Such a hero!" Draco sneered.

Harry glared at him. "People do help others for no reason… Not everyone's like your father."

Draco's fingers tightened. "Don't you dare talk about my father, Potter!"

Harry managed to yank his arm from Draco's grip.

"Just leave me alone!"

He shoved past the other boy who persisted in blocking the doorway and plunged into the hospital wing, forgetting Draco the instant he drew aside a curtain and caught sight of Hermione's prone form.

Harry's heart leapt fearfully in his chest at how ill she looked, and a physical sensation of pain twisted inside him.

Oh, Hermione…

Ron was already at her side, one of her hands clenched convulsively in his. Harry drew quickly to the side of the bed and grasped her other. It felt cold. Why was she so cold?

Ron stirred across from him.

"She won't wake up," he muttered without looking at Harry, his expression gloomy. "They don't know what's wrong with her, and they don't know if they'll be able to fix it."

Harry clutched her more tightly, wishing he'd heard the name of the hex. For the life of him, he couldn't recall the words the Death Eater had spoken before firing that horrible orange light. He hadn't heard a thing.

It shouldn't be her lying there. It was aimed at him. This would have been so much easier if it was him

His anger flared, at himself, at Remus… Remus

But the fury died. It hurt too much. He couldn't bear to think about Remus, even to hate him for pulling him from Hermione's side. He'd lost Remus in one very real sense, and he was in danger of losing Hermione in a much more terrible one.

And Ron… he couldn't imagine how this was for Ron. Harry turned his concerned gaze from Hermione to his other friend. He trailed his eyes up over Ron's tense form. The redhead looked entirely washed out with anxiety, his freckles a stark contrast against pale skin.

He felt he should say something reassuring; one of them had to be the strong one, right? And even if he wanted to be sick with anxiety over what might happen to Hermione, there was no reason he should add to Ron's fears.

"She'll be okay," Harry told him, trying to sound confident. "You know she will. And by the end of the week, she'll be fussing at us for not studying, I'd bet."

Ron grimaced, but said nothing.

"I heard on the way back that you saved an auror's life using the silly string jinx," Harry said tentatively, hoping to distract him. "Erm, good thinking."

Ron's expression darkened.

"I had to do something." He looked at Harry for the first time. "You weren't there."

Harry felt something inside him wither with shame, because it was true. His friends had been left fighting for their lives while he was cowering in Madame Puddifoot's…

"Dumbledore ordered Remus to keep me out of the battle. He said there were aurors…" Harry said numbly. "He said they were right behind him…"

"Yeah, they were, okay? But that doesn't matter You left us!" Ron's voice rose. "She was lying there, dying, and you weren't there!"

Harry wanted to shrink into the floor with misery. "I'm sorry. I couldn't— I didn't have any—"

"She was only there because YOU HAD TO HELP MALFOY!" Ron bellowed. "And you left her! YOU LEFT US!"

"Mr. Weasley!" Madame Pomfrey's sharp voice was punctuated by the mediwitch's head popping through the curtain gap. "I will have to ask you to leave if you do not lower your voice!"

Ron's face was bright red, and he glared at the wall in silent fury until she retreated. His voice was softer, but it shook with anger as he resumed his attack.

"You threw your friends over for Malfoy, and now she's probably going to die! I hope you're happy!"

"I'm sorry…" Harry fumbled for something to say. "You know I'm so—"

"Why are you even here?" Ron demanded hatefully. "Why don't you just go off with your pal, Malfoy? I saw him waiting in the hallway out there!"

"Ron, I—

"JUST GO AWAY! HAVEN'T YOU DONE ENOUGH?"

"Mr. Weasley!" cried Madame Pomfrey, storming through the curtains. "I have sleeping patients! That is quite enough from you—"

Whatever she said, Harry didn't hear. He plunged through the curtains and out into the dim light of the hospital wing. It took his brain a moment to catch up with his body.

Hermione was dying, at it was his fault. It was his—

For the first time, he noticed bed after bed of injured students. There had to be dozens of them… He hadn't realized just how many had been hurt.

Was it me? he wondered, horrified at the prospect. Were the Death Eaters after me? Is this my fault?

There had been Hogsmeade trips all year. They hadn't been attacked until he'd joined them!

Harry staggered out of the Hospital Wing in a daze. Was it just a coincidence? Were there ever coincidences? It couldn't be an accident that the one time he'd gone to Hogsmeade was the one time the students had been attacked.

How could he possibly be the person destined to save the wizarding world when all he did was get other people killed?

He wished someone would just tell him if this was his fault. If only he could trust Dumbledore to answer him honestly.

But Dumbledore had lied to him before. He'd lied about Sirius, saying it wasn't Harry's fault. Harry had known the truth. And apparently— and it made his heart wrench to realize it— apparently Remus had, too.

His hand found its way to his aching scar, and he rubbed at it furiously. There was always that temptation to start scratching at it again, but nothing— even clawing the very skin from his head— would rid him of it. It was there forever. His curse, to destroy everything he touched.

He made his way to one of the parapets just outside the castle and slumped against it, unable to face the prospect of returning to Gryffindor just yet, and confronting dozens of accusing faces.

Ron blamed him for Hermione… with reason. Remus blamed him for Sirius… again, with reason. And what if the Hogsmeade attack was his fault? What would he—

Voices made their way to his ears, and Harry pressed himself back against the wall. The last thing he wanted was someone pestering him about just why he was out here.

"… devastating. We'll need years to recoup our numbers after this."

"How many aurors did we lose, Kingsley?"

"Ten. McFarlane is still hanging in there, but Calixtus was dead before he could reach Saint Mungo's…"

Harry barely dared to breathe until their voices faded into the distance. It was only when he felt he was alone again that he pondered their words.

Aurors. They'd lost ten aurors.

For the first time since the attack, Harry's fearful thoughts turned to Tonks. She'd been there. He hoped she was alright. Surely she was fine…

He felt cold and afraid. He felt his scar twinge painfully, and rubbed at it. Maybe he'd send Tonks an owl, just to see how she was. He was worrying over nothing… It had to be nothing.

He fought against the turn of his thoughts, but something stirred in his memory.

Bellatrix, her robes covered in blood, grinning maniacally beneath dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "That half-blood filth was no relative of mine."

Ten dead aurors.

And Bellatrix Lestrange had killed a relative… a half-blood.

"A cousin, and now a niece…" Sirius was the cousin. A niece. That could only be...

No, he would not even think that.

But the horrible suspicion crept up upon him.

"She was already half a Muggle, so I thought it fitting to kill her like one…"

No. It was impossible.

She was fine. He was being paranoid. It was just the attack, Remus, Hermione, and Ron… he was under stress. He was anxious. Tonks would be just fine; he'd talked to her earlier, hadn't he? And she'd promised him that she'd give him a chance once he was out of Hogwarts. They had plans. They couldn't have just… reconciled today, and then have it end this way. Things didn't happen that way!

He wasn't aware of rising to his feet, much less running up to the owlery, and writing out his note. Harry found himself shivering in the night air, watching Hedwig flap away into the darkness, the white paper tied to her claw.

He stood there for hours, barely noticing the chilly air that seeped into his limbs, his very bones, or the cloudy breath that swirled before his numbed cheeks. He did not notice the sky steadily gathering light, black turning into purple. He just knew she was okay, she had to be, because the alternative would simply be too horrible to contemplate.

He only returned to awareness once Hedwig swooped back down with a paper tied to her leg. Tonks had sent him a reply. Sweet relief flooded his chest, and Harry eagerly tore the note open.

I HEARD SOME AURORS WERE HURT. WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OKAY? PLEASE WRITE ME BACK.

His stomach dropped. It was his note. He'd sent it to her, and it had come right back to him.

There was no one else to receive it.

Tonks was dead.

The End.


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