Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts, August 1996 (29)

"Severus," Dumbledore said, a tinge of surprise coloring his voice. "You are looking well." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Snape sat, ignoring the compliment as well as the tea setting with freshly baked biscuits placed near the desk's edge.

"What is it you want, Albus?"

"Harry -"

"- is not up for discussion."

Dumbledore blinked, momentarily stunned by Snape's abrupt tone. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you've called me here to discuss Potter, you have wasted my time."

"Ahh..." Dumbledore's expression cleared as he inclined his head, putting a finger to his lips. "I should not be surprised. Harry has rather a knack for insinuating his way into one's heart," he said, smiling gently.

Snape scowled and shifted in his chair. "I wouldn't know."

"Yet you are reluctant to discuss him with me..."

"If it is your wish to continue in the same vein as the morning Potter and I left, then yes, I am reluctant to discuss him with you."

Dumbledore considered Snape's clenched jaw and chilly expression a moment before saying: "Your dedication is admirable, Severus, and as I said, quite understandable... After all, it was hardly easy for me to leave Harry on the Dursley's doorstep."

"Yet somehow you managed." Snape drawled coldly, prompting Dumbledore to lift an eyebrow.

"It was a necessary precaution for his safety, as you know," Dumbledore said. He cleared his throat as Snape continued to glare. "But I have not asked you here to hash over what cannot be changed. I wish to know how Harry fared during your time away."

With a perturbed crook of his lips, Snape said, "The boy is impudent, rash, and exceedingly pig-headed - still, invariably, Potter."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Of course, but I am speaking of his training. His magic has progressed?"

For a long moment, the faint rustle of Fawkes preening his feathers was the only sound in the room.

"Is he as powerful as we believed?" Dumbledore tried again.

Snape crossed his legs and smoothed out his robes' sleeves before gracefully clasping his hands in his lap.

Dumbledore's lips tightened as he sighed. "Severus, as clever as this game is -"

"I can assure you I'm not playing a game. I've no patience for such tactics."

"Nor have I, but I should like to know what we are dealing with in terms of Harry's abilities."

Under normal circumstances, Snape would have yielded to Dumbledore's commanding tone, but at present, he was not inclined to be railroaded. He coolly returned the headmaster's gaze until the elderly wizard stood, turning to stroke a long finger down Fawkes' golden chest. When he turned back to face Snape, his tempered expression was gone, supplanted with a flinty hardness Harry would have recognized from the Ministry Atrium.

"Severus, war is coming, and at a time not of our choosing! We must, all of us, be prepared! But Harry especially, for with him, we now have an opportunity to rid the wizarding world of an evil that has plagued us for decades!" 

Snape shot to his feet. "Damn it, Albus! That is not his responsibility! I explained as much to you when Potter and I left! You know perfectly well he's exceptionally powerful! So are you! Does that then mark you to dispense with the wizarding world's evil, alone?"

"Severus, you know that Voldemort will target Harry regardless! He believes Harry shall be his downfall!"

"Oh please!" Snape spat. "His insanity is to be expected! Must you also join the mad chorus, filling Potter's head with the ridiculous notion of being some sort of wizarding savior? Merlin's sake, he's a boy, Albus, not a god!"

"Severus -"

"I've dedicated this time to train him to use his powers responsibly, not as preparation to become some wizarding equivalent of the atom bomb! And," - Snape said quickly, staying Dumbledore's reply - "fostering his belief in that travesty you call a Prophecy is unconscionable! I refuse to allow you to do it!"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed angrily as he leaned forward, bracing his hands on his desktop.

"That travesty, as you so aptly put it, Severus, was only made credible thanks to your telling Voldemort of its existence! And as for refusing to ‘allow' Harry to do anything, there is little, or rather, nothing you can say in that regard!"

Snape flinched, swallowing against the bile suddenly filling and burning his throat. From long experience, he knew he hadn't a prayer in intimidating the headmaster - yet, for all the devastating truth in Dumbledore's words, he couldn't quell the dangerous tone in his voice: "Albus, what is it you want?"

Dumbledore inhaled deeply then came around his desk to lay a thin hand on Snape's shoulder.

"I want Harry safe, prepared, Severus," Dumbledore said, giving Snape's shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping to diffuse the Potions Master's fury. "You must open your eyes to reality... Voldemort will target him. It does him an injustice to pretend otherwise."

Snape carefully removed Dumbledore's hand from his shoulder; the old wizard sighed.

"Severus, it is quite obvious that you and Harry have forged a bond, but I tell you now, for what he shall inevitably face it is not prudent that he form an even deeper attachment to you."

Snape snorted, aiming for derisive laughter, but it caught in his chest, constricting his breath like the lightest jolt of the Cruciatus.

"Severus, you have spent a mere summer with Harry and your highly inflammatory opinion of him has been turned on its ear. Do you believe Harry has not developed the very same feelings? I daresay his feelings changed the moment he saw you lying wrecked in that hospital bed!"

Snape quickly edged away from Dumbledore, crossing to the open window to breathe in some fresh air. Trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, he remained quiet.

"If Harry does not yet love -"

"S-stop!" Snape's voice cracked as he whipped around to face Dumbledore. After taking a fortifying breath, he said: "Why does my association with the boy concern you so? Do you fear that he will cease behaving like your trained mongrel, jumping over every hoop, bar, and tube you desire? ...Or is it his powers that trouble you?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I have just stated why I find this relationship to be unwise. Furthermore, it is not my aim to control Harry. To infer that I fear his powers -"

"You're being less than honest, Albus..." 

Dumbledore paled, furious. "You, Severus, are being dangerously impractical! This is a matter of safety - not only of Harry's, but of yours as well! Does it not concern you that Voldemort managed to track you down - or rather, track Harry down?"

Snape moaned softly and closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his hands. "So he doesn't...?"

"No." Dumbledore exhaled loudly, looking as relieved as Snape. "From what we can discern he has no idea Harry was in your company. But should you insist on involving yourself with Harry in this way, eventually Voldemort will get wind of your alliance and he will do everything in his power to make sport of it." Dumbledore considered the thin-lipped man before him as he resumed his seat. "As for Harry, at the least, the least, Severus, know that you will come to serve as a distraction for him - much as Sirius did..."

It was Snape's turn to pale. "You know nothing short of death would have stopped him going after Black. No one risks their life for a distraction... You think you know the boy, Albus but you don't," Snape said. "You underestimate his ability to handle anything resembling truth and you overestimate his importance in defeating the Dark Lord! Moreover, as I'm sure you well recall when we left for the summer, Potter no longer trusts you to look after his interests."

"It is now you whom he trusts in that stead?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"I would venture to say he trusts me infinitely more than he does you."

Dumbledore leaned back to tent his hands beneath his lips. "But to what avail, Severus? What would you do with this ‘trust?' You mention Harry's ability to handle the truth, yet I am certain that there is one important truth you have neglected to share with him."

Before Snape could stop it, a flash of panic flitted across his face; he quickly transposed it with a scalding glare.

"Tread carefully, Albus.  Give Potter reason to distrust you, it will prove difficult to gain it back."

"Well observed, but his feelings for me are not my primary concern just now, his survival is. And in the interest of all involved, I think you know that it is best to put paid to this situation now, rather than later..." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled humorlessly. "Severus, you, more than most, understand the sacrifices that must be made in times like these. No matter how well-meaning, no matter how deeply felt, this is not a time for selfishness."

"You would speak to me of selfishness? Selfish is denying Potter a say in his future! Selfish is prepping him to square up against the Dark Lord! Selfish is -" Snape's jaw worked, either gritting his teeth or biting his tongue as he contemplated his next words. "You tasked me with looking after the boy, and I did! If things didn't pan out the way you expected, if he doesn't trust you as he used to, you have only yourself to thank!"

 Snape then strode to the door where he grasped the knob to pull it open.

"Has your trust in me dimmed as well?" Dumbledore called. Snape stopped short and turned back to face the old wizard who looked as if the weight of his hundred-plus years had suddenly crashed down on him, hinting at the toll of this conversation, and perhaps everything else.

"Things are not so black and white," Snape said, playing with the door knob, twisting it back and forth.

"No... They never were." Dumbledore conceded softly. "But that need not be so concerning Harry. Perhaps you are right, Severus, perhaps I do underestimate him in the way you say, but I believe you give no credit to his ability to cope with what lies ahead. It is a pity, all that he has endured in his young life, but it is that experience which gives him the fortitude to deal with what he must face. I believe he is strong enough to handle it."

Snape's lips were a thin, hard line dividing his face. 

"Severus, I do not ask this of you to cause you or Harry heartache, but for his sake, we must consider what is best for him. Help me to be a better steward to him than I have been to you."

Snape's hand stilled and he frowned, looking almost child-like. "One thing has nothing to do with the other."

Dumbledore smiled sadly at Snape's intense black-eyed expression. "Oh, yes, my dear boy," he said, "it does. That you chose to go to my brother rather than come to the castle demonstrates my point. I gave a tremendous amount of thought to things while you and Harry were away..."  

"I too gave a tremendous amount of thought to things while we were away..." Snape interrupted. "You don't owe me anything, Albus. I made my choices and I must live with them, as you must -"

"Severus..."

"- but, Potter... Potter deserves more... from both of us."

"Yes, he does, which is why I implore you to reconsider your ties to him. Leave him to me, Severus, please."

Frowning, Snape shook his head. "I must get back."

He then turned on his heel, robes flaring as he surged through the door, leaving it open behind him.

 *WO

Dusk was coming on when Snape finally returned to the Hog's Head. Opening the door into the sitting room, he stopped short at Harry's pale, anxious face.

"What happened?" Harry demanded. "What did he want? Is it something to do with Voldemort? How did he know we were here?"

"Cease questioning me!" Snape hissed as he brushed past, intently avoiding Harry's eyes.

"But... what happened? What did he say?"

Snape scrubbed a hand over his face. "Go away, Potter, just... leave me be," he said hoarsely, collapsing into the chair near the darkened hearth. He then leaned forward to rest his face in his hands.

Despite the demand to be left alone, Harry continued toward Snape's hunched form, worried by the man's behavior.

"Sir?"

With a ragged sigh, Snape raised his head. Harry gasped, alarmed. Snape's face was utterly void of any defining color. A haunting blend of fear, disgust, and resignation contorted his hawkish features making Harry desperate to know what Dumbledore had said to put the man in such a state. He dared a step closer, but the warring emotions on Snape's face swiftly metamorphosed into rage.

"POTTER, GET OUT OF HERE!" he screamed, spittle flying, eyes wild. "WHILE I REALIZE YOUR INABILITY TO OBEY THE SIMPLEST OF REQUESTS IS A GENETIC ABNORMALITY, WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING, I EXPECT YOU TO DO IT!"

After a moment of stunned silence, Harry blinked, more troubled than angered by the man's explosive behavior. Just that morning they had been making plans for their return to Hogwarts, of how best to mesh Harry's training with his full load of classes, Quidditch matches, and practices -  just that morning, everything had been fine. But realizing the man was in no condition to deal with him just then Harry decided it would be best to do as Snape asked. Harry turned to leave.

"And Potter?" Snape's voice was like cold, dead fingers dragging down Harry's back. "Keep out of my sight until we return to Hogwarts."

*WO

Just in time, Harry stumbled into the bathroom. With a burning heave, he expelled the late lunch he had shared with Aberforth. Harry had wanted to hold off starting the meal until Snape returned, but after more than three hours lapsed without word, Aberforth suggested they eat without him. Harry only managed to pick at the food on his plate, his face a mash of deep concern and confusion, his stomach in knots.

"How did the headmaster know we were here, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Aberforth, Harry. And, while there's little that escapes my brother's attention... I can only guess."

"What d' you reckon, then?"

Aberforth shrugged. "A number of missing Death Eaters isn't likely to escape the attention of Aurors or the Order, are they?"

"That still doesn't explain how he knew."

Aberforth hesitated before speaking. "Albus is aware that Severus and I are close."

A moment later, the Squib working the bar for Aberforth knocked at the door and called him downstairs. This left Harry alone to ponder what Dumbledore might be saying to Snape up at the castle, and the consequences of being discovered at Soth-ince.

*WO

Later that evening, a knock sounded at Harry's bedroom door.

"Harry?"

Sprawled across the bed on his stomach, Harry raised his head to rasp, "Yes?"

Aberforth stuck his head into the room. "It seems Severus is averse to dining this evening. Would you care to join me?"

"No, thank you. I don't feel much like eating, either."

Aberforth moved to sit at the foot of the bed. "Whatever the problem, Harry you musn't take Severus's behavior to heart."

Harry turned to look at the old wizard. His blue eyes were so like the headmaster's, yet they lacked the calculating expectation he had come to recognize in the elder Dumbledore's.

"He won't even tell me what Dumble - I mean, the headmaster said..." Harry blurted.

"Perhaps you should let him work it out for himself first."

"What if he can't?" Harry looked so miserable Aberforth couldn't help reaching out to gently pat his leg. He smiled reassuringly.

"Severus is exceptionally stubborn, Harry, always keen to get his way." Aberforth cocked his head to the side, regarding Harry with intense bemusement. "A characteristic you and he share, I notice."

Harry blinked tiredly and lay his head back down, not really wanting to hear about how much alike he and Snape were.

Taking the hint that Harry wanted to be left with his thoughts, Aberforth asked, "Can I fetch you anything, lad?"

"No, thank you."

"All right," Aberforth said, patting Harry's leg once more before rising. "‘Til the ‘morrow, then." 

But, as soon as the door clicked closed, Harry was on his feet, flinging open his trunk. He rifled around inside it until he fingered the fine, silvery gray material of his Invisibility Cloak.

He refused to leave his future to chance. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know it now.

*WO

Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts, August 1996

"WHAT THE DEVIL WERE YOU THINKING?" Snape roared, apoplectic as he stormed the length of Dumbledore's office. When Harry opened his mouth to respond, Snape stabbed a finger at him and yelled, "SHUT UP! Just shut up! Traipsing about, vulnerable to any and all who wish you harm! You could have been abducted! You could have been k-killed!"

He stopped suddenly, throwing his arms across his chest, piercing Harry with furious, yet undeniably worried black eyes.

"I asked you a question and I damned well expect an answer! What was the meaning of sneaking up here?"

Harry stared, reluctant to say anything after being forbidden to speak.

"ANSWER ME!" Snape boomed, making Harry jump.

"Now, see here, Snape! There's no need to a-t-tack the boy!" Headmaster Armando Dippet stuttered from his portrait. "He was concerned about your b-behavior! C-c-can't say I b-blame -"

"Thank you, Headmaster." Dumbledore interjected.

"I just wanted to know why you came back in such a temper!" Harry fumed, ignoring both headmasters.

"You've absolutely no reason to be concerned about anything I do, Potter," Snape said, low and cutting. "In future, I would suggest you limit your pathological need for adventure -"

"I didn't come up here for tickles and giggles or to piss you off! I came because I was worried about what he -" Harry jabbed a finger at Dumbledore, "- said to upset you!" When Snape paled, Harry took a breath and in a determinedly calmer voice, said, "I really wish you'd tell me what it was, because if it's something to do with Voldemort," - Snape winced - "shouldn't I know what I'm facing?"

Harry knew full well that had Voldemort been the topic of discussion, Snape wouldn't have hesitated to tell him. But, he also knew that he wouldn't get the truth without a little cunning, or in this case, emotional blackmail.

It worked. Snape and Dumbledore looked floored while some of the office's other occupants eagerly voiced their support.

"Hear, hear!" chirped Headmaster Everard.

"Excellent point, dear boy!" said Headmistress Dilys Derwent.

Heartened by those responses, Harry continued, "If it's something to do with him, I can't believe I even have to ask you about it." He then approached the stunned Snape much as one would a wounded animal. "Please, sir... What happened?"

"Potter..." Snape croaked then he cleared his throat, taking precious seconds to compose himself. "Potter," he said, now stern and professorial. "Until we are back in residence at the castle, you are my responsibility and shall do as I say -"

"No!" Harry said, green eyes flashing. "No! You can be upset and worried about me, but I can't be for you? I have to do what you tell me, without question, as your responsibility, but I can't look out for you?" Harry frowned, searching Snape's eyes desperately for a hint of understanding. "At Fred and George's shop," - his eyes flicked to Dumbledore then back to Snape - "you - you trusted me, but you can't tell me what's bothering you, now?"

Flushed, Snape swiped a shaking hand across his mouth, obviously wishing to be anywhere but in the presence of Albus Dumbledore having this conversation.

"Potter, what was said here -"

Frustrated with Snape ducking and dodging the point, Harry whipped around to Dumbledore. He figured the old wizard would stonewall him as effectively as Snape, but he still wanted a go at what he believed to be the real issue.

"Is there something about this -" Harry gestured angrily between himself and Snape "- that bothers you?"

"Potter," said Snape, a warning tone in his voice. "Mind your manners..."

 "Why?" Harry yelled. "He's not! He said or did something to upset you, and I want to know what!"

"POTTER, STAY OUT OF MY BUSINESS!" Snape roared.

Harry closed his mouth with an audible snap and stared at Snape, uneasy and confused at the change that had come over the man: Snape looked a stricken, crazed mess. His eyes were unfocused and his jaw jumped spastically when he exhaled, his breaths coming harsh, and stuttered, moving his thin chest up and down in a fast, irregular rhythm. Harry dropped his eyes to focus on it, finding Snape's maddened gaze unbearable. As he watched it rise and fall, he was reminded of a stormy day at Soth-ince, when it rose and fell with concern, not anger.

It was a Sunday, which meant no training to suffer. Because of the suffocating heat, Harry had spent the majority of the day lazing about on the sofa, slug-like, clad in a T-shirt and ratty boxers. He dozed, snacked, used the loo when necessary, and crafted a letter to Hermione, all while awaiting the rain that had been threatening since daybreak. His company for the moment, Fang, lay sprawled like a drunken sailor beneath his big window, peppering the humid silence with his soft snores, twitching and whimpering occasionally as he dreamed.

As they were most days, Soth-ince's windows were thrown wide, though not much was happening by way of a cooling breeze. Low, slow drifting clouds the color of volcanic ash, muted the sky and the valley, yet they yielded not a drop of rain. Heat lightning pranced along the valley's edges on the heels of thunder which echoed like a troupe of bass drums in the distance. Come dusk, though, the duo centralized over the bowl-shaped landscape creating an electrically charged show that begged an audience. 

Harry got to his knees to look out the small window above the sofa as brilliant flashes of lightning forked across the darkening sky. At a particularly vicious strike, he recoiled, closing his eyes against the blinding flash, then, the heavens opened in a sudden gush. Helped along by a gusting wind, the rain propelled in through the open window, dousing Harry's face. He welcomed it, turning into it, refreshed by the cool downpour after the day's sticky heat.

Then thunder exploded directly above, rattling the cottage's frame as though a giant had it in hand, shaking it like a snow globe. This drove Fang into his usual hysterics, but Harry ignored him. Squinting against the pelting rain, he saw a bolt of lightning strike the oak grove, setting several trees on fire, illuminating that section of the grove so that it resembled a horrifying corner of hell.

‘My dear friends, we are assembled here tonight for a lesson... in enlightenment.'

Harry jerked away from the window so fast he went sprawling backward over the coffee table. His ribs bounced painfully off its edge as he struggled to get to his hands and knees to get up. Once on his feet, he began to lurch about the center of the room in an unconscious imitation of Fang.

Snape. Where was Snape? Harry stopped spinning, trying to think, focus. Snape... Where was he? Out walking? In the lab - where he had been most of the day, save lunchtime when Harry had requested fried egg sandwiches and pumpkin juice? Snape hadn't batted an eye at the request, but he had opted for roast lamb.

Roast. The smell of the burning trees wafted into the cottage.

‘Lucius, Bellatrix, Ant -'

Harry cinched his eyes closed, tight, but it was no good. The image of a long, lean body entwined on a demonic spit, languidly spinning, spinning... ringed by white, featureless faces in robes, black as death, formed in his mind. Then a fierce roar of thunder mingled with a crisp, tinkly sound like raining crystals; Fang yelped and dove to cower under Snape's desk.

‘Crucio!'

Harry clapped his hands over his ears. Screams! He could hear shrill, pained screams, but this time, it wasn't her. It was...

Snape. He ran, plotting a thunderous, wet trail through the cottage's short hallway. He tore into the sitting room, his face ghostly white with terror. He spun about the room, his wet hair whipping about, getting into his eyes and mouth. Seeing the bright shards of glass littering the floor, he frowned then turned his sharp eyes onto Harry who was still planted in the middle of the room, pale, shivering, and panic stricken.

"Are you all right?" Snape took Harry by the shoulders and looked him over, examining him for cuts. "What happened?"

After two aborted attempts, Harry found his voice. "I - I don't know... Rain started coming in on me... I just stuck my head out to get a bit wet and I saw the lightning strike the trees and the - the fire. It reminded me..." Harry's eyes widened as he lifted them to Snape's face. He then began to vibrate so hard his teeth rattled.

"Accio towel!" Snape growled. Once the towel appeared he muttered a charm to warm it and draped it over Harry's head. He then quietly cast a charm to dry the boy's clothes and began to buff Harry's hair dry.

Bit by bit, the storm slackened, and Harry calmed as well. Rain continued to sweep in through the glassless windows, but Snape was blind to it.

"Thanks, sir," Harry said, his lips trembling with a smile as he looked up at Snape.

Snape stopped ruffling the towel to look down at him. The man's expression was fixed, well-nigh a non-expression as he eyed the boy, but he was looking at Harry as if he held the key to a riddle. Harry stood stock-still, letting Snape discover whatever it was he needed to discover. Long, hushed seconds passed before the man resumed his motions; Harry took it as an invitation to close his eyes, then he leaned forward until his body came to rest against Snape's.

Despite this impulsive act, the hair-drying motions never ceased.

Oblivious of the man's chilly rain soaked clothing, Harry leaned against Snape. He even dared to sniff him, seeking that comforting smell of cinnamon and cloves that seemed to seep from Snape's pores; he imagined he detected a hint of it amidst the crisp rainwater smell, but perhaps not. Regardless, Harry leaned against him, grateful for the life-affirming thump of the heart beneath his ear as it was proof that Snape was here safe and alive, not in Voldemort's clutches suffering a fate that made Harry's heart ache to think about. Finally, Harry leaned against Snape because the man allowed it.

Finally, the rain stopped. Fifteen minutes had elapsed, but neither wizard had moved. Lulled by Snape's touch, Harry had fallen asleep on his feet, but at the feel of a light fluttering across his cheek, his eyes snapped open. With the storm over, it was quiet now, quiet enough for him to hear Snape swallow. As he peeled the right side of his face from Snape's shirt, the man shifted the towel to wrap around Harry's shoulders.

Snape cleared his throat. "The windows..." he said, but his voice still had a hoarse quality about it.

"Oh... right," Harry said. Reluctantly, he stepped back. The front of his gray T-shirt and shorts were black with the wet from Snape's clothes. The man waved his hand over Harry to dry him, and before Harry could even inhale to say, ‘Thank you', Snape had turned to set about repairing the windows in the sitting room. He then went on to the cottage's other rooms, leaving Harry to stand in the center of the room. But, as he clutched the towel tighter about his shoulders, he discovered he was fine with that.

But he wasn't now. There was not a hint of the man from that Sunday, from the day of the attack, or even from hours earlier when he had dished up Harry's breakfast. That man was gone, and it hurt.

"Fine," Harry whispered. "Fine, I'll keep out of your business, out of your way, out of your sight. But know this: that's the last time you tell me to do anything."

Before exiting, Harry hazarded a glance at Dumbledore. The old wizard had a typically benign expression pasted on, but Harry sensed something bubbling just below the surface - something like satisfaction.