Lily’s Lost Boys

CHAPTER 4

A/N: For those of you wanting to skip the descriptions of abuse, this chapter is mostly okay except for the third from last paragraph that describes Harry's injuries begining with the sentence: “The healing took quite a bit longer than Snape had anticipated.” 

 “Go!”

Snape felt the tell-tale hook behind his navel and he and Potter were jerked away, sucked into compressing bands of darkness, and spat out on the floor of Dumbledore’s office. Trembling with adrenaline and relief, Snape scooped up the naked, keening boy and moved to the camp bed that had been prepared for Potter’s hoped-for arrival. As gently as he could, he laid the boy down. Then he tossed his mask aside and pulled off his Death Eater robes, covering the trembling teen with the heavy material to give Potter whatever warmth and comfort he could.

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who had been waiting, rushed to his side. Severus had prepped them both for what they might expect—for what condition Potter might be returned in. He was very thankful he had done so as Poppy got to work immediately and without any fuss.

Dumbledore pulled Snape aside and cast a silencing charm around them.

“Are you all right, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, taking note of the blood that speckled Snape’s hands.

“I am fine, Albus. But the boy…”

“Is in good hands,” Dumbledore pronounced.

Snape didn’t disagree, but as Potter thrashed and fought Poppy, seemingly unaware of where he was, Snape said, “If there’s nothing else, headmaster?”

“Anything you need to report?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Snape said, glancing briefly at Dumbledore to receive his nod of dismissal before rushing to Potter’s side.

Poppy was trying to hold Potter down as she said, “Mr. Potter, lie still, I am trying to heal you.”

“Mr. Potter, calm yourself,” Snape said.

“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” Potter screamed, trying to writhe away from Poppy. He looked a right mess, bleeding, and bruised as he was, Snape’s robe slipping from his slight frame. He was also pale and shaking, and likely going into shock.

“Potter!” Snape shouted.

Instantly, the boy stilled.

“Potter, look around you. You are at Hogwarts, in the headmaster’s office. Look.”

Slowly, Potter swivelled his head, taking in the décor, as well as Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and Snape—now divested of his Death Eater attire.

“This is a pain relieving potion,” Snape said, lifting the boy by his shoulders with one hand while holding the vial of potion to the boy’s lips with his other. “Drink it slowly.”

Snape let his breath out as the boy obeyed. Snape set aside the empty vial and pulled his discarded Death Eater robes back up over the teen like a blanket. “Madam Pomfrey is attempting to tend to your injuries, Mr. Potter, so please lie still.”

“Snape,” Potter breathed, locking eyes with him. “You… I…”

“Just relax, Mr. Potter,” Poppy said. “I am running a diagnostic…”

“No,” Harry said, becoming agitated once more. “Professor Snape…”

“Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Professor Snape got you away from that place using a Portkey I gave him. That is why you are in my office. Professor Snape saved you.”

“No!” Harry protested. “You have to listen. Snape is…”

“Snape is not a Death Eater, Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted. “He is a spy for the Order. He replied to Voldemort’s summons on my orders.”

“NO! Listen!”

“There, there, dear,” Madam Pomfrey soothed. “Don’t trouble yourself. You are in a right state and we need to get you fixed up. All this shouting is just making things harder on yourself.”

Terror clawed at Harry’s throat. Beyond the pain that seemed to slice its way across every inch of his battered and abused body, his mind screamed to be heard.

Poppy turned to Snape. “Could you hand me the sedative draught?”

Vial in hand, she turned back to Harry. “Take this, dear. It will help you sleep, which is what you need right now so that I can heal you properly.”

“But I have to tell you…” Harry said, his panic rising.

“There, there, dear, just drink this now…”

“Get some rest, Harry, we can discuss everything in the morning…”

“Potter, for once in your life…”

As Poppy pressed the glass vial to his lips, Harry struck out, sending the vial flying through the air to shatter against the wall.

“LISTEN TO ME!” Harry shouted.

Stunned silence followed his outburst, After a moment, the headmaster spoke. “All right, Harry, we’re listening.”

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to breath past the pain. The draught had only taken the edge off. Everything still hurt, and he shuddered at the memory of what they’d done to him before Snape had gotten him away… Snape.

“I screwed up,” Harry blurted out. He tried to clench the bedclothes to keep himself grounded, but his hands were swollen and trying to move them made fire scream up his nerve endings.

“They were torturing me, not letting me sleep, putting poison and bugs in my food…” Harry shivered at the memory of cutting open a chicken breast to see hundreds of maggots writhing inside. He clamped down on the thought and willed himself not to vomit. He cleared his throat, once, twice, three times, before he was able to continue.

“I was holding my own pretty well, even with the beatings, until…” Harry swallowed, glancing briefly at Snape. “Until they mentioned Professor Snape.” Harry closed his eyes, unwilling to bear the judgment that awaited him. “I didn’t mean to, but when they mentioned you, Professor, I just reacted.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Snape spoke. “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing! I swear! It was just… my body reacted to the mention of you. And they figured out that I had feelings for you and…” Harry paused, sucking in a deep breath. It hurt to breathe, but this was more important. Snape’s life was on the line. He looked up and was startled to see a horrified expression on Snape’s face. He glanced at Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who looked equally unnerved.

“What?” Harry asked, glancing between the three of them. What had he said? His brain was muddled and his mouth was distractingly dry and his body ached something fierce. He reviewed his words in his mind.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry exclaimed. “Not those kind of feelings….” Harry ran a shaky hand over his face. “Just that… I care about you, professor. You’ve become sort of like a… a fath… a mentor to me. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Feeling chagrined, Harry added, “I kind of jumped when they mentioned your name and that’s the first reaction they’d managed to get out of me.”

Taking another deep painful breath, he added, “I’m really sorry, Professor. I’m afraid I might have broken your cover. I didn’t say anything, but they might suspect something anyway. I swear I didn’t mean to...”

“Potter,” Snape interrupted. “I hardly think it matters at this point. Once I removed you from the Dark Lord’s presence, I made my loyalties clear.”

Harry felt momentarily confused before realization struck. “Oh,” Harry said, slumping back into his pillow. “I thought… I was worried that…” He let out a long breath, feeling stupid, and looking away. In a much quieter voice, he added, “I was afraid they’d try and kill you. And it would have been my fault if anything happened to you.” Harry felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes again. He’d lost control of his emotions days ago, after they… after they…

“Harry, you’ve been under a lot of stress. I really do think it’s time you rest.” Dumbledore’s voice was kind but firm.

“Can I stay here? In your office?” Harry asked, looking at the headmaster.

“Once you are stable, dear,” Madam Pomfrey said, “we will move you to the hospital wing.”

“NO! Please, no,” Harry breathed. Wherever you are, we will find you. “The hospital wing isn’t safe. The Death Eaters… they said… they made it clear…” Harry gasped. Suddenly it felt very hard to breathe, as if a steel band was wrapped around his chest, getting tighter every moment. “Hogwarts isn’t safe.”

Harry’s vision started to dim, and he scrubbed at his eyes. “The children of Death Eaters in the castle are under strict orders to… to…” He felt the world spinning away from him as the panic started to win out. He at gripped the edges of consciousness, trying to stop the distressed noise that escaped him.

When he felt a potion at his lips, he clenched his jaw and turned his head away.

“Harry, I assure you that you are safe here. No one will harm you,” Dumbledore reassured.

“No,” Harry said. “Not safe. Not safe anywhere.” Harry curled into a ball, wrapping his hands over his head. “Oh god… They’re going to… They said… no, not again… not again... please…” he cried out.

“Poppy, the sleeping draught if you please,” Dumbledore said.

“No!” Harry said, bolting upright, his eyes darting frantically around the room. “Snape. Where’s Snape?”

Harry looked around frantically for Snape. He was gasping for breath. It didn’t help any that the adrenaline was wearing off now, too, and the pain that was bad before now started to swamp him in unbearable waves. He groaned and wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to stop the keening sound that escaped him unbidden.

Snape, who had been standing at the head of the bed to get a better look at the cut on the boy’s scalp that was bleeding profusely, spoke up.

“I am right here, Mr. Potter.” Snape stepped into the teen’s line of sight. Potter was pale and shaking. His eyes were wild, his pulse rapid, his breathing shallow. And the keening sound he was making tore a hole in Snape’s heart.

Potter reached out a hand in entreaty, and then pulled it back, wrapping both of his arms around himself again in a protective, defensive gesture. “The hospital wing is not safe. Please. I can’t stay there. I can’t.”

Potter stared at Snape, tears running down his cheeks once again.

“Can I… can I stay with you?” Potter pleaded. “In your rooms? Please? Please, Professor?”

Snape glanced to the headmaster and then Poppy before replying. “I will allow you to stay in my quarters, Potter, if you agree to take a calming draught now so that we can heal you, and then a dose of Dreamless Sleep once we arrive in my quarters. Do I have your word?”

Potter gazed at him, a mix of apprehension and relief coloring his features. “Yes, okay. Can we go now? Please?”

“Just as soon as Madam Pomfrey is finished healing you, we may go,” Snape said.

Potter glanced at Madam Pomfrey who was holding out the calming draught. He tried to take it from her but pain radiated through his fingers and up his arm when he tried to grasp it.

Snape plucked the vial from Madam Pomfrey and held it to Potter’s lips. “Drink,” he said. Thankfully, the teen tipped his head back and allowed Snape to administer the draught.

Still looking up at Snape, and in a voice that was all the more eerie for being soft and steady, the boy uttered, “You’re not safe here either, Professor.”

The healing took quite a bit longer than Snape had anticipated. Potter had injuries from that evening’s revelry, of course, which included a fair bit of tearing and bruising to the tissues of his nether regions, as well as blood loss and potential infection. His five days in captivity seemed to include a rigorous course of Muggle torture, leaving the boy with several crushed and broken bones in his hands and feet, a dislocated shoulder and knee, a broken jaw and nose, bruised ribs, a bruised kidney, several loose teeth, a slight concussion, and enough burns, cuts, and contusions to last a lifetime. In addition to all of that, he was severely dehyrdrated and suffering from malnutrition. And none of this touched on the psychological trauma the boy had endured that very evening. The recovery Potter would require would make the near-fatal curse he’d experienced at the Grangers’ the previous summer seem like a walk in the park.

If Snape hadn’t needed to help Poppy heal the boy, he rather thought he’d have locked himself in his rooms, downed an entire bottle of Firewhisky and a sleeping draught, crawled into bed, and hoped it was all a very bad dream. As it was, he was looking at a fragile young man who’d gone through what no human should have to. And Snape knew that Potter would be looking to him to make it better somehow.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Snape murmured, dragging a hand across his face. How on earth was he going to make this right for the boy?