Right in Front of Me

CHAPTER 17

Harry was spit from the floo like always, but this time there were hands there to catch him – many, in fact. Stumbling into the group, he raised his eyes and looked into the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as those young enough to still be living at home. Seeing as how it was still so early, he wasn't surprised to see everyone wrapped in their robes and house slippers.

As Remus stepped out of the floo behind him, Mrs. Weasley immediately engulfed Harry in a hug. Harry couldn't help thinking that her normally warm embrace suddenly felt rather oppressive. The flood of emotion from her made Harry feel as if it would drown him, and his lungs constricted as he suddenly struggled to draw breath. Harry was thankful when she backed away, because he doubted he could have withstood the suffocating feeling a second longer.

"Harry, it's so nice to see you, dear!" She patted him on the cheek, and although he tried to smile, it came out more like a grimace. But she didn't seem to notice. "You don't look nearly as peaky as you normally do during the summer – I'm glad to see Severus was feeding you, at least." She pulled him into another hug, and Harry couldn't help flinching.

"Mum, let him breathe!" he heard, and suddenly Ron was there, gently prying her off. "Hey Harry," he said with a smile, giving him a meaningful look as though they were sharing a great joke between them. "We heard you'd been sent to live with the greasy dungeon bat—"

"So is it true, Harry?" interrupted Fred.

"Does he really wash his hair with cooking oil?" George asked.

"And brush his teeth with old coffee grounds?"

"And have a picture of Moldy-Voldy tattooed on his-?"

"Boys," Mr. Weasley interjected. "That's enough. It's good to see you, Harry," he said, shaking Harry's hand and either ignoring – or not noticing – that Harry's wrist suddenly felt like it had gone completely boneless.

Ginny's soft brown eyes connected with his, and when she didn't approach him, Harry thought she looked a bit hesitant. He was extremely grateful when she simply waved and said, "Hi, Harry." He didn't think he could stomach being touched by another person at the moment. It was just too painful.

"Erm… Hi," Harry mumbled, glancing briefly at everyone's happy faces before staring once again at the floor. Although he was glad to see them, Harry honestly wanted nothing more than to disappear into the dark attic where there would be no one there to bother him, except maybe the family's ghoul.

Mrs. Weasley turned to Remus and said, "Well… I know it's still dark, but dawn is almost here. How about an early breakfast?"

"Sure, Molly. Harry and I would appreciate that. Thank you."

Mrs. Weasley immediately went to work, throwing over her shoulder, "Will Dumbledore be joining us?"

"No," Remus sighed. "I know you must have already heard, but it's been a very long night, and the headmaster has called some emergency meetings at the Ministry."

"Seeing how they feel about him at the moment, I'm sure it's not going to be easy for Dumbledore," Author added wearily, following his wife and Remus into the kitchen.

The remaining Weasleys' eyes were on him in an instant, and suddenly Harry felt like a defenseless muggle in a pack of hungry Dementors.

"What happened, Harry? What's Dumbledore going to the Ministry for?"" Ron asked.

"You must have all the inside information after staying with Snape!" said Fred elatedly.

"C'mon Harry, spill it!" George urged excitedly.

Harry was at a loss. He knew exactly as much as they did – probably less. But he realized with a jolt that even if he had known anything, the last thing he would do is talk about it. Not after everything Snape had done for him. Not after tonight…

"I… I honestly don't know what's happened."

"What?" Ron asked incredulously. "C'mon, Harry… you were in the monster's lair! The man who spends half of his time cozied up to You-Know-Who! You must know something!" There was a murmur of assent from the others.

"I don't. Remus and I were out all day, then Snape came home in a right state—"

"About what?" George asked.

"Was he with You-Know-Who?" Fred probed.

"I… I don't… I mean… I guess—"

"Well, did your scar hurt or anything?" Ron insisted. "You-Know-Who must have something major in the works for Dumbledore to go to the Ministry! The Ministry hates him, it's all dad talks about when he comes home from work these days."

"Ron…" Ginny suddenly spoke up, a warning tone in her voice. She seemed to know that something wasn't right, and she glanced warily at Harry out of the corner of her eye. "Just leave it alone, alright? Harry's got enough going—"

"But—c'mon, Harry! You've got to know something. We're your friends—" Ron persisted.

"I don't—" Harry tried to interject, but he was interrupted once again.

"You can trust us—" Said Fred.

"We won't tell anybody!" Finished George.

"I don't know anything, ok? Just—Leave me alone!" Harry practically shouted. Then he stormed into the kitchen and threw himself into a chair at the table between Remus and Mrs. Weasley, hoping that the presence of the adults would thwart any more interrogation attempts. The adults continued their conversation, and although Harry was so absorbed in his own tumultuous thoughts to pay much attention, he did notice Remus glancing at him with an odd expression on his face.

The younger Weasleys trickled into the kitchen a few minutes later, but Harry refused to meet their wary looks. They were obviously worried over his outburst, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Harry was still numb about everything that had happened with Snape, and if he thought too much or too hard about it, an aching, empty hollow opened deep inside him, and that void seemed to quickly fill with resentment.

It was just safer not to think…

"Harry, aren't you hungry, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

With a jolt Harry realized there was a steaming plate of food in front of him. Where did that come from? Everyone around him was almost finished with their breakfasts, so it must have been there for a while.

"Oh… Um…" He picked up his fork and pushed his eggs around. Looking up, he saw that Mrs. Weasley's eyes were still on him, so he ate a small bite. The food was like ash in his mouth, but he choked it down. Mrs. Weasley smiled and looked away.

"Harry can stay as long as he'd like," Mr. Weasley was saying. "We'll strengthen the wards and place more protective enchantments around while he's here. Did Snape say how You-Know-Who found—"

Harry dropped his fork with a clatter, and all eyes turned to him. He didn't know what was wrong with him. But he couldn't stand to hear about Snape, or be in anyone's presence a second longer.

"May I be excused?" he muttered, rising for the table and not really waiting for an answer. "I'm really tired."

He thought he saw a worried look pass between Remus and Mrs. Weasley, but he was already hurrying toward the stairs and didn't stop to give it much thought.

A pale gray dawn was just starting to break over the dark horizon as Harry reached Ron's bedroom. Seeing his cot in its normal spot, Harry threw himself onto it and turned immediately toward the wall. If he was lucky, everyone would believe his lie about being tired and leave him alone for a while.

Staring at nothing, Harry tried desperately to force the memories of the past few days and the feelings they had fostered within him from his mind. It was going to be hard again getting used to the fact that he was unwanted, especially after the hope he'd allowed to blossom within him.

As much as he loved the Weasleys, being here was a constant, agonizingly painful reminder of just what exactly had been robbed from him by Voldemort and then by the cruel hand of fate.

Never knowing had been one thing.

But knowing and having it ripped forcibly away was like throwing acid on his raw, bleeding heart.

Harry didn't even try to wipe away the tears as he lay in the tiny cot, feeling smaller and more alone than he ever had in his life.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Snape did his best to stand straight in the line of Death Eaters awaiting the Dark Lord. Although he'd attempted a Scourgify on himself and had tossed down a quick sobering potion when he'd felt the burning of the mark, he knew he probably still reeked of liquor. Not surprising after a solid ten days of binge-drinking. But after Potter's departure the house just wasn't the same. Especially because the dreams of his father had returned with a vengeance, and drinking himself into a few hours of oblivion was the only way he was able to get any rest, inadequate though it was.

He was actually quite grateful for the time that the Dark Lord had kept them all waiting; the ache in both his feet and lower back gave him something other than his exhaustion to focus on; the quiet room filled with nothing but the nervous rustling of robes gave him time to sober up. The Dark Lord would not be happy to find him falling down drunk like he had been these past few days.

A few moments later, a hidden door on the other side of the room opened, and the Dark Lord emerged. "You may sit," he called to the gathered Death Eaters, and they all hurried to do so around the massive, highly polished black table that the Malfoys obviously used when throwing lavish dinner parties.

It was then that the others noticed that another had followed the Dark Lord from his chambers. Bellatrix padded barefoot behind her beloved master, looking smug and wearing nothing but a black, lacy house robe. She finished tying it around the middle and as she looked up, Snape couldn't help but notice her disheveled appearance – flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair even more wild and untidy than normal.

It was suddenly obvious why the rest of them had been kept waiting for so long.

The hussy must have greatly pleased her master, for him to allow her to dress so scantily for a meeting of his Death Eaters. Bellatrix caught Snape looking at her and smirked as she licked her lips, glancing once more at her beloved lord. He had a very difficult time suppressing his revulsion.

Unfortunately it was at that exact moment that the Dark Lord finally spoke, almost catching him off guard when he addressed him directly.

"Severus. Any word on the whereabouts of Harry Potter? There must have been some discussion amongst the Hogwarts staff about where the boy might be."

It was with quick consideration and very sensitive intuition that Snape realized he was being tested. He could feel it. Snape could tell that the Dark Lord knew something and was assessing his loyalty – no thanks to Bellatrix, he was sure.

Trying desperately to hide his sudden terror at the thought of revealing Harry's location behind his shields, he murmured slowly, "Indeed, My Lord. I have reason to believe that the boy is staying with the Weasleys."

"Ah," The Dark Lord said with a sardonic smile. "The blood traitors."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Pity that one of the dwindling pure-blood families thinks so highly of muggles and mudbloods. We will have to do our utmost to rehabilitate those beliefs, shall we not?" When the Dark Lord me his gaze expectantly, Snape was forced to slowly smile, as if relishing the idea.

"Dumbledore feels he will be safe there since there are multiple members of the family that are known Order members. There have been many wards and enchantments put into place, although the details have not been discussed with me." He prayed fervently to whatever God that would listen that the lie about the wards was true.

"Good, my slippery friend," the Dark Lord murmured. "Continue listening. Once we know more, we shall make our move." Snape's heart stopped dead in his chest, and he had a difficult time drawing breath. But at the Dark Lord's next words, his heart restarted with a painful, frenzied rhythm.

With long, bone-like fingers stroking his chin in thought, the Dark Lord addressed the rest of the group. "In the meantime, I want eyes on the Weasley residence around the clock. Is that understood?"

A murmur of, "Yes, My Lord," echoed around the table.

"We'll acquire Potter for you, My Lord!" Bellatrix uttered with unmistakable worship, and the Dark Lord's gaze flicked to her for a moment, approval clear in his eyes. Then his gaze fell upon her brother-in-law, hunched in his seat at the far end of the table.

"Lucius." It came out sounding like a hiss.

The man visibly jumped, and even through his panic, Snape watched as Malfoy's already pale face drained of color beneath the eye patch covering his ghastly wound. Even with magic to help treat it, the scar was still a vivid, angry welt covering one half of his face above and below the dark eye patch. It appeared from nowhere beneath the man's silvery hairline and ebbed away beneath the curve of his chin. Snape knew from experience that the scar would be there for life, as no glamour was powerful enough to cover that amount of dark magic. And his eyesight in the damaged eye was more than likely lost forever.

He rather pitied the man as Lucius stuttered, "M…My Lord?"

"You shall give me the reports on whatever our watchful friends find out about the Potter boy and the muggle-lovers. I shall expect to see you daily for a detailed account."

"Y…Yes, of course M…My Lord."

"Good. You shall also take first watch tonight. Although," he murmured as a cruel smile spread across his lipless, snake-like features, "expecting a one-eyed spy to gather any useful information is quite reminisce of me. The blood-traitors could practically dance away and you may not even see it!" The Dark Lord laughed, and the assembled Death Eaters sniggered at the deflated man who, until recently, was one of the highest ranking among them.

"Take Wormtail with you," the Dark Lord threw over his shoulder as he rose and headed back the way he came. Bellatrix followed closely behind him, throwing haughty, self-satisfied glances at the others as she passed.

As the door at the far end of the hall closed behind them, Snape had to forcibly keep himself from sprinting out of the room. He had to get to Dumbledore – now. The Dark Lord knew exactly where Harry was, and the Burrow was no longer safe.

. . . . .

"You have to move him! Tonight!" Snape paced in agitation in front of the headmaster's desk, repeatedly running a hand through his hair. How could the old coot sit there, and be so… so damn CALM about this?!

"And where would you suggest we place him, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he watched Snape pacing his office like a caged, riled animal. "Even with the blood wards, he is not exactly protected at his relatives. And as much as I'd hoped otherwise, keeping him with you did not provide a safe harbor for the boy, either."

Snape paused in his pacing, finally throwing himself in a chair and letting his head drop into his hands. As true as the headmaster's words were, they were still extremely difficult to accept. But the old wizard ploughed on, not caring how much his words stung. "At this point it is the lesser of two evils, Severus. We knew we wouldn't be able to hide him forever, especially after he left his aunt and uncle's home. As of this moment, there truly is no place that Harry is completely safe."

"Then bring him here, to Hogwarts!" Snape couldn't completely keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

Dumbledore serenely folded his long fingers in front of him on the desk. He's talking to me as if I am no more than a willful student instead of a terrified fath—a worried ex-guardian.

"You know I cannot do that, Severus," the headmaster reminded him gently. "The only reason the school is safe during the school year is because of my presence, as much as it both pains and humbles me to admit that fact. But I must use this limited time to research how to defeat Voldemort once and for all. I am constantly on the move, as well you know. And the places I go are not appropriate, nor are theysafe for any student – especially Harry."

"So that's it, then?" Snape seethed as he jumped from his chair once again. Anger at the headmaster, at the Dark Lord, at himself, was mercilessly tormenting and playing on his fears. Each horrifying visualization of what could happen to Harry was more horrific than the last.

The distress inside him caused his words to come out in an accusatory shout. "You're telling me that the savior of the wizarding world must simply sit and hope that the darkest, most powerful wizard of the age doesn't figure out a way to slither through the wards?! That I'm supposed to just hurry home like a good little spy and leave the planning to the rest of you? NO! That's not how this works!"

"Have a little faith, Severus. I think I've earned that much. You have my word that I will do all in my, if I do say so myself, very immense power to protect Harry."

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Snape roared, slamming his hand down on the desk and glaring down at the headmaster, wishing – just for a moment – that he was powerful enough to make the old man suffer like he was suffering.

Dumbledore rose slowly from his desk, straightening himself to his full height. As aged as he was, his power was still undeniable. It rolled off him in electric waves, rustling and charging the very air around them. But Snape refused to back down.

"You overstep your bounds, Severus," the old man murmured, his eyes flashing ever so slightly in warning. "You forget who I am, and that we are all just pawns in the game of good and evil."

"Harry is not a pawn!" Snape shouted, his heart refusing to allow him the safety of retreat although his mind screamed at him to do so. "He is not something that you can just trade away in the hopes of gaining some advantage! THIS IS NOT A GAME, DAMN YOU!"

Dumbledore seemed to droop ever so slightly at his accusation, but the power emanating from him did not lessen. "It is, my boy. It is. If I were to be honest, it is my greatest and most heartfelt desire that the darkness of this world could be kept at bay for the rest of time, long after I'm dead and gone. But we must not delude ourselves into believing that, as much as we both wish it to be true."

He was quiet for a long moment as he pinned Snape with a hard gaze. "Harry is a major player in this game of roulette that you and I play, and the very soul of our world is at stake with the outcome. I care deeply for the boy and will do all in my power to see him succeed. But he is a pawn, Severus. You can never forget that."

Snape took a shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair. His mind knew the headmaster's words to be true, but his heart argued fiercely and painfully against them. As much as he cared for Harry, as much as a part of him wanted to rip the headmaster limb from limb for even daring to suggest what he did, he knew he could not defeat the evil they were facing alone. He needed Dumbledore.

Clenching his jaw tight enough to crack a tooth, he refused to meet the headmaster's gaze as he gave one jerky, stoic nod.

"Good," he heard the headmaster murmur, and the electric power seemed to ebb away like the tide of the ocean. "It's been a long night for everyone, my boy, especially you. Go home. Get some rest."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the old man and barely restrained himself from arguing. But he knew defeat when he saw it, and with a disgusted sigh at himself, he spun on the spot and stalked to the office door.

"Would you rather not take the floo?" The headmaster asked.

"Unless you want me doing something really stupid," Snape growled, not bothering to face the old man, "like going to the Burrow and retrieving Harry myself, I need to work off some of this… energy. I'll apparate at the gates."

And with that he threw open the door so hard that it bounced against the cabinet beside it and broke a glass panel within.

Snape ran down the moving staircase, the anxious dread churning in his gut. He was revolted at his own acquiescence, and he stalked angrily from the castle wishing for nothing more than a pack of mountain trolls to appear in his path so he could work off some of his resentment and self-loathing.

Finally reaching the gates, he had every intention to once again lose himself within the bottle of hard liquor waiting for him at home, as punishment for his failure to protect Harry yet again. Perhaps he would concoct a potion that forced him to purge the alcohol from his system instead of allowing him the oblivion of the few hours of empty sleep. Lord knew he didn't even deserve even that much at this point…

With a crack! he spun on the spot, thinking of nothing more than the burn of the liquid as he tossed shots of it repeatedly down his throat. But as he landed with a hard thud, he was shocked to see not his own front door in front of him, but Lily's.