Aug.17, 9:30 am

no further entry for this date

---

Harry fell back, scrambling madly to get out of the way, a low keening sound coming from his throat as Lucius Malfoy stood regally before him.

Severus caught the boy before he crashed into and upset a table full of pub goers, and then shoved Harry behind him, hoping by all the gods that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Harry's breaths were mere harsh pants though, and there was no way in hell Lucius had not noticed. Taking a split second to actually think, Severus smiled genially at the elder Malfoy - on Remus, who Malfoy knew by sight, he was sure it would appear as if he were baring his teeth - and gestured for him to pass them to go into the Alley.

But Lucius was not to be dissuaded. He peered over Severus' shoulder briefly, then turned an oddly amused stare on Severus himself. "Remus Lupin," he said in his smooth, cultured voice. "How good to see you again."

Since Severus knew that the last time Lucius had seen Remus was in the Department of Mysteries where Lucius had been apprehended by Ministry personnel and sent to Azkaban, he just smiled a bit tighter and said, "Oh, I very much doubt that."

The boy, behind him, seemed to have come to a halt in his desperate flailing about, and had grabbed a portion of Severus' robe instead. His breaths were quieter, but whether that was from lack of oxygen or true calm, he couldn't really tell.

"Say," Lucius continued, taking one step forward and putting himself nose to nose with Severus. The scent of his expensive cologne was cloying, so close, and, since in Remus' nose, the sense of smell was particularly sharp, Severus was actually nauseated and found himself taking more shallow breaths. Lucius' lips curved in a cold, predatory smile that made Severus want to bite his throat out, even if he was only a Polyjuiced Werewolf. "Is that Harry Potter lurking behind you? Why, I haven't seen him for ages . . . not with clothes on, at least."

With a snarl worthy of a Were, Severus had his wand aimed at Malfoy's heart before the man finished his taunt.

To his utter surprise, so did Harry.

The area around them cleared in a heartbeat. Wizards - especially of this particular caliber and affiliation - drawing wands in a small space was nothing anyone sane wanted to interfere with.

Severus could hear the boy's teeth grinding together, and wasn't sure exactly how the words managed to come out of his mouth, and yet . . . "I'll kill you where you stand, Malfoy, so help me."

Lucius had not moved, still, but the edge of his lip lifted in a sneer. "I'd like to see you try. My lovely sister-in-law, you remember her? She has told me some unforgivably amusing tales of your failures in that arena."

Harry's arm was shaking, and his new wand's tip juddered up and down like a snitch in a gale. "Oh, I think I'm properly motivated this time."

Lucius clapped his hand to his chest, just over his heart. "Ah, you wound me, Harry. And here I thought we'd gotten along so well. Or is it just another's touch you crave? I don't believe my Lord's quite gotten over the lovely sound of your screams."

This had gone quite far enough, Severus decided, and grabbed Harry's arm, at the same as the boy screamed, "You filthy piece of shit!" followed by, "Avada-"

Before he finished the damning words, Severus had Apparated them away.

---

Harry's feet had barely touched ground when he fell to hands and knees and started retching. Chocolate ice cream and toast with marmalade from breakfast, and then pink liquid and chunks of yellow, and acid that stung his throat and brought tears to his eyes. Still coughing and choking on bile, he completely lost any semblance of calm when his arms were grabbed and he was hauled to his feet again. But whoever it was let go of his arms again, real quick in favor of shoving him forward toward a wide white door with a brass knocker in the middle of it.

"Come on, now, Potter," said a calm voice that sounded an awful lot like Remus, but couldn't be, because Remus was angry at him and wasn't here, besides . . . wherever here was. They were on a brick-walled porch of sorts, with broad white columns, covered in ivy, supporting the roof from the four corners. A set of wide stone steps led down to a gravel drive. What the hell? Harry was dizzy and disoriented, and he wondered why for a second longer . . .

And then he remembered.

Dragging a sleeve across his eyes and then his mouth, Harry staggered another step towards the door. Remus-Snape had his wand aimed at the door and gestured sharply for him to come closer, so he did. With a quick look over his shoulder, Rem . . . Snape jabbed his wand at the knocker and muttered something under his breath. The door's lock clicked, and Snape pushed the door open, then half dragged Harry inside after him.

They were in a cool, dark room with high ceilings and hexagonal windows of cut, colored glass near the very top, filtering in small bands of sunlight in shades of green, yellow, blue and red. The entryway was paneled in some kind of dark, reddish wood that smelt faintly of cedar.

The door slammed closed behind them, and Snape-Remus waved his wand a few more times. The air around them glowed with a yellow haze that faded slowly as Snape let his hand drop with a gusty sigh.

And then his head came up and he glared at Harry. Stalking towards him, Remus-Snape growled, "You stupid child! What the hell do you think you were doing?!"

Harry backed away, keeping his own wand up to defend himself. "I . . . I didn't think-"

"That's right! You didn't think at all! The Killing Curse? Are you completely mad?"

Harry bristled. "He deserved to die!"

"Of course he did, you idiot, that's not the point! What do you suppose would have happened if you'd finished that little incantation, hm? Would the Ministry have just let you off because Malfoy deserved it? Perhaps told the Wizarding world that Harry bloody Potter can cast an Unforgivable in front of a dozen witnesses, and that it's bloody well fine, because according to this same Mr. Potter, the dead man was a particularly loathsome fellow?"

"No, I-"

"I don't want to hear it. Just . . ." Remus-Snape put a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, head ducked slightly as if his neck hurt, and the gesture was so Snape that Harry was jolted when Remus' voice said, "Just stay put and do as you're told for a bloody second. Stay right here. I need a moment . . ." With that, he strode away, through a doorway in the far wall, leaving Harry alone.

Again.

That's when the shaking started.

---

In the basement of the Prince ancestral home, Severus leant against the door of his potions lab and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get a grip on his temper before he faced Harry again. In the instant of deciding where to Apparate, he'd concentrated on here, where he had not set foot in several years, instead of going directly to Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, they'd still have to get through the gate, and if Lucius had followed them . . . Well. It had been much faster to ram through the outer door and then reinforce the wards here than it would have been to race to the castle with a distraught and murderous teenager on his hands.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN!

With each repetition, Severus slammed the back of his head on the solid oak door, as if could possibly knock some sense into his head. Remus' head. Whatever.

The exercise proved futile.

Except that it gave him a headache.

And very likely a concussion.

Stupid, stupid, stupid child! Of all the harebrained, idiotic, self-destructive, nonsensical ways to get himself caught up in a legal and ethical nightmare! Not to mention the many and varied ways Harry would have been emotionally fucked up for life, if he'd actually managed to work up the requisite desire to cast the damned spell. Severus knew Harry didn't have it him to be a killer; he'd spent enough time in the boy's head to understand that. For Merlin's sake, the boy barely believed he deserved better than the Muggles who'd made a cock up of his childhood. And most days, Severus was fairly sure Harry believed he did deserve every second of the misery they'd put him through.

How he expected to live with himself if he took another's life, even if it was Malfoy . . .

Severus' mind snapped immediately to the prophecy Dumbledore had seen fit to share with Harry on the night the last of his real family died. Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.

Fuck.

Was this what truly troubled Harry about that damned prophecy? That he would have to kill or be killed, and that Harry knew he wouldn't be the one who could kill?

He suddenly understood Harry's reluctance to discuss anything to do with life after school, or after Voldemort's demise, or even after this next term, as if the boy knew he were living on borrowed time. And, he could, only at this moment, completely understand Harry's frantic attempt to cast the Unforgivable on Malfoy, for that is what it really was, after all. However asinine, Harry had made the attempt to show himself that he could do it. In Harry's mind, Severus now realized, if he couldn't kill, he was no more than a walking corpse.

Fuck, indeed.

A second later, and the sudden end of the Polyjuice's duration hit him with the force of a Stunner. He had to use the wall for support to keep from falling as he resumed his own shape. Hands narrowed and fingers lengthened, his nose grew sharply in profile and his hair darkened appreciably until he was finally himself. Yet, still with a headache.

Ach, hell. Severus Accio'd a pain potion from his stores and gulped it down to treat the blooming pain behind his eyes before he headed back upstairs. How could he have been so blind?

---

An eternity passed as, dizzy and breathless, Harry sat on the cold, marbled floor of the entryway and stared at his hands. They held a wand, yew, eleven inches, springy, with a basilisk fang core. Yew like His. He stared at his hands, small, narrow, agile. Good for snitch catching. And stared at the wand he'd tried to kill with, the wand in these hands.

With a lurch, his stomach dropped and the world narrowed to . . .

. . . glass the color of blood leaving trails across the stained, dark floor . . .

. . . and now the dark was all around him, and Malfoy's hot breath was in his ear and hands grabbed his hips hard enough to bruise . . .

. . . and his hands tilted the yew wand toward him, aimed the killing blow at his own eye . . .

. . . and the smell of sweat and blood and semen and the sweet sting of cologne filled his nose and mouth and made him retch over and over . . .

. . . and the fang's poison hurtled through his veins, burning his blood, and he had to let it out, let it all out . . .

. . . and Bellatrix and Voldemort laughed and laughed and laughed . . .

"Potter!" someone yelled and grabbed his shoulder and shook, hard.

The world jerked back into focus, and he peered into Snape's face. The man didn't let go of his shoulders, but said, "Breathe, Harry. Slowly now. In. Out. In. Out. Good. Keep going, in. Out . . ."

Harry clung to Snape's arms and shook his head, trembling so hard he could hardly feel his fingers anymore, could barely manage to hold on. He had to tell, had to let him know. The world was doomed and it was all his fault.

"What is it, Harry?" Snape asked. His voice, so calm and full of understanding, was all it took in the end; it was his undoing.

Harry broke into sobs, wrenching, chest heaving, horrible, choking sobs as he clutched at Snape's robes and refused to let go. "I can't do it, Professor. I tried and I can't, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry . . ."

"I know," Snape said, and tugged him against his chest, put arms around him and spoke soft, nonsense words that would never mean anything. Not to him, never to him.

Because he didn't know, not yet. And Harry had to tell him. "You have to know, Professor. You have to tell them, please. I can't kill him. I can't, I'm sorry. Please, tell them I'm sorry. You'll do that, won't you? Dumbledore should know."

"Shhh, Harry. It's all right. I know."

Snape's robes grew wet with the volume of Harry's tears, but he couldn't stop, knew he was going to weep until he was dry, and then it would all be gone. It would all be over.

"I know," Snape said again. "But I swear to you, you are not alone in this."

Harry shook his head in the darkness of damp wool robes. Snape was wrong, so very, very wrong. He whispered, "I'm alone every time. I always face him alone."

He barely noticed when the arms tightened around him, and only cared that someone finally knew.