Thursday, Aug. 29

No entries for this date.

---

Severus had been sitting by Harry's bedside for almost a day and a half before the boy opened his eyes again, mid morning on the 29th. He supposed the long rest was inevitable, what with the amount of drain on his magical core Harry had managed, but long about hour thirty after the boy's utter collapse in the Ministry of Magic, Severus started to honestly worry. Then he chided himself for worrying; Harry had proved himself capable of recovering from far worse, hadn't he?

Rumor had it, in fact, that the boy had fought and killed a basilisk, for pity's sake. In his second year. When he was only twelve years old. Surely, after such escapades as that, he would be perfectly fine merely tearing into the minds of two full-grown, powerful Wizards and reducing one of them to a Squib. . . .

Still, he was very glad when Harry opened his eyes, and even more so when he asked for water, even if his voice was hesitant and breathy. Severus hadn't known, until then, if Harry had suffered any permanent brain damage from the massive amounts of magic with which he had accosted Dumbledore and Malfoy.

As he summoned a goblet, and filled it quickly with a water spell, he said softly, "How do you feel?"

Once he had drunk his fill, instead of answering, Harry irritated Severus by once more proving how little he thought of his own life, and focusing on others instead. "Dumble . . . dore. Is . . . he . . . okay?"

Severus closed his eyes briefly. "He will be. He regained consciousness soon after we got back from the Ministry and is recovering, just as you are. But I expect he'll be up and around before the Welcoming Feast. I . . ." He drew a deep breath and plunged on, knowing that he had to get out what he needed to say, though the practice of apologizing did not come easily to him. "I did not realize he was not himself. I foolishly put you in danger, and I am very sorry."

Thin brows drew down over the bright green eyes, turning the boy's expression to one of confusion. "Not . . . your fault."

Severus grimaced. "If not mine, then whose? I fancy myself one who reads other people well, and yet I could not discern that one of my oldest friends was possessed by a maniac?" When Severus had gone back to the Ministry, he'd found the Headmaster wrapped inside a bubble of sorts, complete protection against offensive, controlling magic. It was something Harry had done, he was pretty sure, and it was well constructed.

Still, even with the bubble, it had still taken him no more than twenty minutes, with the judicious use of non-offensive Legilimency, to discern the origin of the man's recent odd behavior. Severus had berated himself since then for not attempting to figure out that oddness before being poisoned.

"Only . . . after . . . I hurt . . . him." Harry tried to push himself upright, but Severus gently - but firmly - prevented him from doing so. Scowling, even as he leaned back again, Harry added, "I weakened . . . his mind. He . . . couldn't fight him."

Considering that revelation, Severus nodded slowly. Another mere half hour's careful searching through Albus' mind had uncovered memories of what the man had been up to for the last week, but not why the Dark Lord had been able to access his mind in the first place. He should have recognized the possibility of Albus' walls being weakened by the earlier attack. He should have taken steps to mitigate the damage. "Be that as it may, I still left you to face him, as well as Lucius."

"You were poisoned," Harry said harshly, putting enough energy into the last word that it left him panting for breath. "How . . . the . . . hell . . . would-"

Severus held up his hand, to make Harry stop speaking before he ran out of breath entirely. "I know, I know. But I'm not always rational about you, if you'll recall."

That got him an unexpected smile. Or a ghost of one, at least. Then, when he got his wind back, Harry whispered, "And Lucius?"

"He will not trouble you again, you can count on that."

"Did I-"

"He's alive." Though Severus would have gladly killed him. He counted it as a personal moral victory that he had not taken advantage of the fact that the despicable man had been bound and helpless, in a sense almost begging to be disposed of. But he'd known that Harry would never believe it had not been his fault if Lucius died that night, and so he refrained. The self-restraint required to do nothing more to him had been nothing short of miraculous.

He went on, "But he is a Squib now. His magic is gone for good. His family has foresworn him, as has the Dark Lord. He is penniless, powerless, and no better than a homeless Muggle." Severus smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. Lucius had many powerful enemies, most of whom would not show the restraint that Severus had, not by a long shot. The erstwhile paterfamilias of the Malfoy family would not survive the week. If he was lucky. "A fitting end for him, I do believe."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, drawing a slow breath. "That's good."

"Yes," Severus agreed. "Yes, it is. You did very well, Harry."

"I almost . . . killed him." Harry swallowed and opened his eyes. "I wanted to."

"I know." Severus offered him the goblet, and Harry drank a little more. "But you didn't. Even though you wanted to. He would not have done you the same turn."

Another swallow, more convulsive than the last, and Harry turned his head away, but not before Severus caught the flash of anguish in his eyes. "They were . . . going to use . . . me again, . . . they said." The words were no more than a whisper, but with such a vicious undertone that Severus' breath was caught in his throat, just hearing it. "Had a . . . special cell . . . prepared. . . . And Lucius . . ." He swallowed and gritted his teeth, then, "He was . . . so vile."

Severus nodded. "I'm sorry," he offered again, knowing it was not likely to help at all, but feeling like he had to, all the same.

"Don't," Harry said, looking back at him. Grim determination sparked in his eyes. "It's not. Your. Fault."

After drawing a slow breath of his own, Severus murmured, "All right."

Harry nodded sharply, and it was obvious he considered the matter closed. Severus knew it would come up again, as Harry dealt with this latest trauma, at least. But for now, he could let it go.

"What would you like for breakfast?" Severus asked him.

"Not real . . . hungry."

"Not eating is not an option, I'm afraid." Severus smiled. "For one thing, you have a good deal of weight still to put on."

Something seemed to occur to Harry then, and he sucked in a breath. "Ron. How's Ron?"

Severus frowned, and then he remembered some of what he had read in Albus' mind while figuring out what Harry had done. It was to Severus' eternal shame that he had not detected the depth of the man's machinations. He swore he would not let such a thing happen again. "The Headmaster, when he was . . . not himself, told us many things that were lies, Harry. That Ron was in trouble with the Ministry was one of them. That you were in trouble with the Ministry was another."

"I . . . what?"

"Ah, see, apparently that was a special hell he devised just for me, and for Lupin. That Lucius had filed charges against you for nearly using an Unforgivable on him in Diagon Alley, and for defending yourself when you were kidnapped from Privet Drive."

"Oh, god."

"Indeed." Severus rose, and stretched out his back. He had transfigured the straight backed chair to a more comfortable one when he'd realized he might be in for a good wait, but he was still not used to sitting still for so long. "But, as I said, you are not actually in any danger, and neither is your red-headed friend."

Harry's breath left him in what sounded almost like a sob. "I thought . . . I thought . . ."

"I know," Severus said softly. "But it's all right now. You're safe here."

"Till next time . . . he gets in."

Unfortunately, Severus could not claim there would be no next time. They both knew it would be a lie. Instead he said, "We will train even harder, once school starts, and you will learn all you can so you'll be prepared for that eventuality. And I will protect you, the best I can."

"I . . ." Harry looked up at him, with that same determined look, and nodded. "Thanks."

Severus gave him a small nod in return. "Now, what would you like to eat?"

With a put-upon sigh, Harry acquiesced. "Toast?"

"And?"

"Juice."

"And?"

"No more and."

Severus smirked. "You're leaving an awful lot up to my discretion," he said by way of warning, before he left the room briefly, so he could order up the toast and juice, as well as bacon, eggs, pancakes, a grapefruit half and a bowl of sliced fruit.

Harry eyed the tray Severus returned with, and rolled his eyes. "What part of . . . not hungry didn't . . . you understand?"

"The part where I said it didn't matter." He set the tray over Harry's legs, and gestured to the utensils as an invitation for Harry to start eating. "You used an incredible amount of magic the other night, and your body is trying to replenish your magical core. It will do so by feeding off any food you put in your stomach, or from your muscles and organs if your stomach is empty. They will break down into their component parts, causing you quite a bit of agony in the process. Is that clear enough for you?"

Wide-eyed now, as was Severus' intent, Harry swallowed hard enough to be heard and reached for a slice of apple.

"Good. After you're done, you can finish your summer homework."

With a barely suppressed sigh, Harry nodded, his mouth full of apple, even as he reached for the marmalade covered toast.

Severus settled into the chair again, this time with a book, but keeping an eye on the boy even so. Despite his protests, Harry was making short work of the tray, which Severus had known he would. There was no way Harry's body would not require refueling on a fairly drastic scale after what he'd done the other night. He was frankly amazed that Harry could claim to not be hungry, actually.

"Sir?" Harry said, less than ten minutes later, when he had finished the last of his bacon and was wiping his mouth with a cloth serviette. "Um, Severus?"

Severus lowered his book and raised an eyebrow.

Harry smiled a little, then bit his lip and said, "Um, did you give all my letters, from Ron and Hermione, to Dumbledore?"

"I did not. They are still in my desk, for when you finish your summer work."

"So, er . . . that was another lie then?"

"I imagine so." Severus sighed. "The Headmaster is rather upset about what he put all of us through the other night. Particularly what he put you through."

"But it wasn't his fault. He had Voldemort in his head!"

"I realize that, Harry. And so does he, but it doesn't change the fact that he is sorry."

Harry looked like he might protest some more, but then just shrugged a little, and said, "I'd like to start on my work now, if that's okay."

"Of course." Severus rose, banished the dirty dishes from the tray, and summoned Harry's books and the parchment he used for his essays, as well as ink and several quills. The tray itself he transfigured into a small, padded writing surface for Harry's lap.

"You're not gonna let me out of bed, are you."

"Not today," Severus said, and smirked. "Magical core, remember. Devouring you from the inside."

"Got it. Thanks for the visual."

"You're welcome. Do you require anything else before you begin?"

"No. Thank you, sir."

"Very well. I'll be in my lab." He placed a small, glowing yellow cube on the table beside Harry's bed. "Tap this twice with your wand if you need anything. Anything, you understand? It will summon me from anywhere in the castle."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Thanks." He was already opening up one of his textbooks as Severus left the room.

---

They ate dinner together in Harry's room. Severus had to admit to himself that he was perhaps being a tad overprotective at this point. But he could live with that. And it made him feel a little bit better . . . not as much of an abject failure as a guardian, at any rate.

Harry's appetite had not diminished from the ravenous stage. He ate everything on the tray sent up from the kitchens, including the serving of liver and onions, which while chock full of important nutrients, was nothing Severus ever enjoyed smelling, and he could not imagine how the boy could actually both eat it and keep it down. Then again, Harry had taken enough foul tasting potions in his tenure as a student that his taste buds were probably all but ruined for real cuisine.

After they ate, Severus graciously handed over the boy's letters from the other two thirds of the Golden Trio, while he looked over Harry's essays. They were much improved, he noted, and forbore to make any notations on them unless he deemed it absolutely necessary. Even the potions essay was better than many of Harry's previous efforts, and he would have to give it an E, at least, once the work was turned in to him in earnest. He didn't say so, of course. No reason to make the boy cocky, after all.

In his bed, Harry raced through his stack of letters, occasionally smiling, once even laughing outright, but mostly his expression was grim. Almost worried.

When he had finished with the last one, and Severus was poring over Harry's Transfiguration essay - immensely improved, though it could hardly not be, given its predecessor - Harry shuffled the letters together, lower lip firmly ensconced between his teeth.

"What is it?" Severus asked with a negligent air, as if it was something he expected Harry to answer easily.

"Huh? Oh . . ."

"If you say, ‘nothing,' I might have to mock you for being utterly absurd."

"Like that'd be different," Harry replied, but it was an almost automatic response, with no heat in it. Severus waited, patiently, until Harry said, "I don't . . . They're going to be here in a couple of days, and I don't . . . I mean, how am I going to tell them about this summer? Hermione's letters are . . . more and more worried sounding, like she knows something real bad happened, but doesn't want to come right out and ask me. What am I gonna tell them?"

"What do you want to tell them?"

"Nothing! I want to pretend nothing happened at all. But . . . if I don't tell, they'll find out from . . . someone else. And I don't want that either."

By ‘someone else,' Severus knew Harry meant the children of various Death Eaters, such as Theodore Nott, Crabbe, Jr., and Greg Goyle. Undoubtedly, each of those students would know far more of what transpired in Topsham than any of Harry's friends, whose parents would have protected their sensibilities - and Harry's privacy - and told them nothing. It was a tricky situation. A lesser person would have fled the field altogether, and not even considered speaking to his friends about what occurred over the summer. But Harry had courage in spades. Oftimes, Severus reminded himself, detrimentally so.

"Do you want my advice?"

Harry nodded jerkily. "Yes. Please." The nervous cast to his features eased, as if he had not been sure Severus would offer any actual assistance, but let him flounder instead. Severus was reminded sharply that Harry had received very little actual help in his young life, and for him to ask for it at all was a giant step forward for him. And perhaps Severus could help him in another way, too.

"Very well. I think you have had quite enough pressure on you this summer as it is, and thus should not be required to relive the horrors you've been through for the benefit of sating the curiosity of others. I believe your friends will understand that, if they are any sort of friends at all." Severus drew a deep breath and steeled himself, not knowing what kind of reaction he was going to get for his next suggestion. "If you do not want them to find out what happened from . . . other sources, perhaps you will allow me to speak to them instead. In general terms only, of course. Thus they will not be unduly surprised, and neither will they constantly accost you for more information."

Harry's mouth had dropped open. It seemed to take him a few moments to bring himself from gobsmacked to incredulous. "You . . . you'd do that? Talk to them? Talk to Ron?"

"I would," Severus said simply. "I have said, several times, I believe, that as your guardian, it is my duty to see to your well being. I believe letting me handle this would be in your best interests."

"I . . . I don't know." Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Can I . . . can I think about it?"

At least he hadn't rejected the idea outright. Severus made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if Harry's consideration of accepting Severus' aid wasn't of great moment. "Of course."

"Thanks, I . . . er, I mean . . . Thanks."

"Certainly, Harry." Severus gave him another small smile. He rose and banished the writing desk, and moved Harry's letters to the bedside table. "It's late enough now that you would do well with some sleep. Tomorrow, if you eat a hearty breakfast, I will allow you up to stretch your legs."

"And maybe go Flying? I did a lot of writing today, even if it wasn't in my journal."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I think not." At Harry's pleading look, he amended to, "Maybe. Briefly. In the afternoon. If you eat a big lunch, too, and don't fall down when you get out of bed."

"I . . . okay." Harry eased down in the bed and tugged the blankets up to his chin as he rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Severus wondered briefly if Harry would ever not sleep like he was going to be attacked in the middle of the night. Probably not. He Nox'd the light and started out the door. "Good night."

"G'night, Sev'rus. And thanks," Harry said, sounding sincere, especially when he added, "for everything. Really. I . . . I've never had anyone looking out for me before. It . . . I don't know. It feels nice."

"You're welcome," Severus said, glad the darkness would hide his expression. It would not do for his ward to think him a soft touch. "Sleep well, Harry."

A great yawn came from the bed as Severus eased the door most of the way closed, leaving it open just enough that he would hear if Harry experienced distress during the night. "Mm-hm. You, too, sir."

Severus shook his head as retreated from the door. How was it that the boy had become so bloody important to him, in such a short space of time? The fear that had gripped him when he'd thought Dumbledore had taken Harry away was unlike any he'd felt since . . . since Lily's life had been in danger. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Harry was yet another casualty of Severus' own reckless youth, and now that he was given a chance to make up for it, he would do everything he could to protect the boy.

Even as he rationalized the whole thing in his mind, he knew that excuse wasn't completely valid. In truth, he cared for Harry as a person in and of himself, not just because he was Lily's son, or because Severus had had a hand in making Harry's childhood a miserable one, however inadvertently. And every day as he observed the boy's strength of heart, and his amazing capacity for love and for forgiveness, his sense of humor and of fair play, he felt his respect for Harry grow. He wanted to see the boy smile, wanted to see him happy and free from the constraints of this abominable war.

Some day, probably some day soon, he going to have to admit that he was glad Harry was his ward, and not because of duty or because he had sworn a Wizard's oath to protect him, but because he liked the boy.

Ai, Merlin. Wasn't that just a kick in the teeth.