Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 8

Left alone, Harry slid down off the trunk he was sitting on and leaned back against it. The attic was dusty but quiet, and he doubted he'd be disturbed up here. The only person who knew his lessons were over for the morning was Snape, and he trusted that the man would not come back looking for him.

He tried to clear his mind, to calm down, but his thoughts refused to cooperate. He still was not entirely sure what had just gone on. Everything happened too fast. His father hated Snape because Snape was gay. His father would have hated him. He thought about the veil in the Department of Mysteries. His father was probably somewhere back beyond that curain, hating him right now.

Harry sunk into his mind. He knew he was pitying himself, and he did not care. He deserved a little self-pity now and then. There was nothing, nothing at all, about his life that would ever be normal. Harry closed his eyes and hugged his knees. He felt the tears coming back and fought them off. He could almost hear his father laughing at him.

The grief was around him like a blanket, dampening everything else. He only felt the pain in his scar when it was strong enough to cause flashes of light across his vision. Harry tried to stand, but his head throbbed and he fell to his knees. The soft thud his body made when it hit the floor was barely audible in the library below, though no one was there to hear it.

-----

Snape stirred one cauldron and checked the progress of another he had brewing. As his thoughts turned to Harry, his feelings bounced from pity to concern to anger. He was not particularly comfortable with any of those emotions, so he concentrated on his potions. Such work forced him to concentrate and he had long ago learned that his perfectionism in the laboratory could overcome any preoccupations. With only two moderately difficult brews before him, though, he was not quite occupied enough. He grabbed a book of healing potions and got to work on a sophisticated sleeping potion. There was no doubt who he was making it for, but he chose not to dwell on that.

A soft rapping on his door came just as he was removing the first cauldron from its heat. Expecting Harry, he opened the door with a quick spell. It was Hermione's voice that caused him to turn from his work.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione peered into the dark room. "Is Harry here?" Flashes of red hair betrayed the presence of at least one Weasley behind her, though the Potions Master suspected both were in the hall, along with Longbottom. Merlin forbid one travel without the rest. "It's time for lunch."

Snape scowled. "Mr. Potter is attending to some work I assigned him. I will fetch him. It may be dangerous for him to be disturbed by someone with an unshielded mind. Miss Granger, come here." Snape explained what needed to be done with his potions in the next few minutes and returned to the attic. Good that it was Granger, and not Longbottom, who would attend to the cauldrons. Unlike the rest, she at least did passable work.

With a soft rap on the door, Snape eased his way into the room, unsure of what he would find. The sight of Harry prone, mouth stretched open like he was screaming, was the last thing he had expected. Harry's eyes were closed, he noted. They were clenched, really, and subtle tremors in the boy's limbs revealed that his entire body was tensed. Feeling foolish, Snape pulled his robe to cover his face and scooped the boy up. At the contact, Harry began thrashing wildly and had to be held tightly against Snape's chest to prevent him from hurting himself.

After kicking open the door to his bedroom, Snape issued orders to the students waiting there. "Granger, continue with the potions. Potter will need them shortly." He added the last to cut short objections. "Longbottom, see if Dumbledore is in the house and send him here. Weasley, stand back!" The damned Weasley boy was grabbing at Potter.

Snape dropped Harry into the bed and tossed Ron behind him, away from the potions. A quick charm had Harry bound to the bed. His flailing had not subsided, and his face was still twisted in a scream. Worried about Harry biting his tongue, Snape doused a bit of wadded cloth with a sedative potion and stuffed it into the boy's mouth.

Dumbledore and Lupin crowded into the room with Longbottom in tow. The men understood what was going on immediately, and both looked to Snape for direction.

"I do not know what he's seeing, but I think I have an idea of what triggered it." Snape said no more and checked over Hermione's shoulder to see the potions she was tending. A cry from Ron brought his attention back to the bed. Harry's right arm trailed a frayed rope from the wrist as his hand, curled into a claw, struck at his face. Ron was the first to act, grabbing his friend's arm and laying across the boy to keep him still. Harry responded with a scream that sent a chill down even the Potion Master's back. Ron's body jolted as Harry nearly threw him, with his single free arm, off the bed. Snape had his wand drawn again and nodded at Lupin who had thrown himself on top of Ron. In single moment, Remus had Ron away from Harry's arm as new cords flew from both Snape and Hermione's wands.

Ron slumped against the wall, and Harry strained again against his bonds, though the combination of exhaustion from his previous efforts and the extra bonds Snape was adding to his restraints prevented even the smallest movement.

"Why do people keep throwing me?" Ron asked with a wince.

"Merlin," Lupin said. "What-"

Harry's eyes suddenly opened. Snape shrank back out of his sight and watched the boy look around the room, frantic. After a few moments, reason returned to the boy's eyes as he recognized his surroundings, as well as Dumbledore and Lupin, who were at his side.

"Harry," Dumbledore said sofly.

"Draco's taken the Mark." The raw words were barely a whisper and Harry was clearly straining to get them out. That said, the boy went limp and slipped into unconsciousness.

He experienced a Marking? Snape turned to Hermione. "I will tend to those potions now."

-----

Harry woke in an unfamiliar bed. His body ached and for a brief moment, he thought he'd fallen off his broom during a Quidditch match. The soft gurgle of a boiling cauldron caught his attention, and Harry realized he was in Snape's room. His bearings returned, the memories of the past day struck him like a physical blow. He closed his eyes with a soft moan.

"Harry?" Like everything else about Neville, his voice betrayed his emotions, and Harry could hear the worry behind his words. "Are you awake?"

Harry nodded. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"About half a day," Neville said. "It's a little after midnight now. Professor Snape said you were okay, but we've all been taking turns keeping an eye on you. Just in case you had another vision, you know?"

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Neville."

Neville shrugged uncomfortably. "So, what caused the vision?" Harry furrowed his brow. "Professor Snape said he knew what brought the vision on."

Harry's stomach lurched; he suddenly felt dizzy. "What did he say?" Harry hoped his voice sounded calmer than he felt.

"Nothing, really. Just that he knew what caused you to have the vision that time. I guess it was a bad one?"

"I felt Draco get the Mark. It was. . ." Harry had no words to describe it. "It was worse than anything before."

Neville turned white. As one of the few people who knew the other things Harry had seen, he must have had a hard time imagining what could have been worse. Harry could imagine it, though, and he was terrified that the feelings would never leave him. Harry pushed those feelings far away from him. Neville had enough people in his life who had suffered at Voldemort's hands.

"I'll be okay, Neville. I'm going to go back to my room. You should get some sleep too." Harry slowly stood from the bed. His legs were shaking, but his robes hid that from the other boy.

It had not occurred to Harry to wonder where Snape was spending the night until he opened the door to his room. A single candle on the table illuminated the large tome the Potions Master was reading. Harry caught himself on the door frame as Snape looked up at him.

"Oh, Sir. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

"Surely you do not need two rooms, Potter. Is one not enough?"

"Should I go back to your room?"

"There is no need." Snape closed his book. "By all means, Potter, please sit down. I think you have fallen quite enough for the day."

Relieved, Harry pushed away from the wall and stumbled to the bed. Snape left the door open when he left, and Harry saw the man stride across the hall and quickly return with two bottles.

"For sleep, and for the muscle ache you are no doubt feeling." Snape placed the bottles beside Harry's bed. "You really must break yourself of this habit of martyrdom. I assure you, it is not becoming."

"Thank you for the potions, sir. And I didn't choose to have that vision. They seem to be happening when I'm. . ." Snape nodded as Harry trailed off.

"No, you had little control over yourself at the time. We will address that another day. I am speaking, though, about your insistence to act like these visions do not affect you. I can assure you that Mr. Malfoy is not conscious yet, nor will he be for several days."

Harry ignored the chance for a shot at Malfoy and simply laughed. "Guess I'm just getting used to this."

Snape frowned at Harry's attempt at self-deprecation. "Perhaps you are. That, too, is something we will need to address." The man regarded Harry with his usual cold glare, and Harry wished the teacher would leave soon. "Did you see anything that the Order needs to know about now?"

"First you tell me I should be sleeping, now you want information?"

Snape shrugged. "You are awake through no action of mine. If you insist on being conscious and no less coherent than usual, I would be remiss not to ask the question."

Harry really did not want to argue the point. "Nothing new, no. He's mad at someone, but I don't know who. He said something about not accepting failure. I think he'd just finished torturing one of the Death Eaters before I connected to him. He's going to use Malfoy to kill me next year, but anyone could have guessed that since he took the Mark." Snape nodded but did not comment. "There was just a lot of him yelling about how much he wanted me dead. Just like you said the other day."

Snape nodded again and turned to the door. "There will be no lessons tomorrow. Take no more than a swallow of each potion tonight and another in the morning if you need."

"Thank you again, sir. And Professor? Will you be here tomorrow? There's something I'd like to talk to you about." Harry caught Snape's glance at the chair beside the bed. "Not tonight. It's not about anything from this morning. Or yesterday. Whenever. But I just want some sleep now. Will tomorrow be okay?"

"I will be here all day. Send one of your minions when you are feeling up to it."

Harry was too tired to tell if that was a joke or not, so he simply fell asleep.

-----

Harry was served a feast in bed the following morning. The potion for his aching muscles provided much needed relief. He had not understood why he was so drained until his friends described how hard he had been struggling. When they got to Harry breaking his bonds, Harry knew exactly what had been going on his mind.

"That was when Voldemort branded Malfoy. I didn't want to see any more. I kept thinking that I had to stop looking."

"You were clawing at your eyes?" Ron asked, his face twisted in horror.

"I thought so," Hermione said. "Your face has scratches down the right side."

Harry touched the tender flesh, bright red strips running down his forehead and cheek. "Thanks for stopping me, Ron. Bad enough having glasses. I don't want Moody's magical eye."

"Sure thing, mate." Ron grinned. "Just no more of that, right?"

"I'll try." Harry ate, enjoying his friends company. The past week had brought very little to cheer him up, and even Hermione seemed to know he needed a bit of lighthearted joking. Eventually, as it always did lately, the conversation turned to Voldemort and his plans for Harry.

"I have some plans of my own, actually," Harry said. "I'm going to ask Snape to teach me to fight."

"Not Professor Snape," Neville said.

"You think he will?" Ginny asked at the same time.

"Pretty sure," Harry answered. "We've sort of come to an understanding. That reminds me, I should go talk to him about that now." He waved away offers of help and stood up.

Harry assumed, correctly, that the Potions Master would be back in his room. Snape seemed to spend all of his time there when not teaching Harry or out keeping an eye on the Death Eaters. Harry had noticed that none of the adults in the house really cared for the other man and supposed that it was more comfortable for everyone if Snape stayed on the upper floors.

Harry approached the topic directly. He knew what he was asking for was unlikely at best. But Snape seemed the most likely ally, which certainly struck Harry as ironic.

"I'd like to learn how to fight, I mean really fight, not that dueling stuff. And I'd like you to teach me."

Snape raised an eyebrow but did not laugh Harry out of the room. Harry took that as a good sign. "Why do you want to learn combat? You are well guarded."

Harry laughed. "Everyone's so busy telling me how well protected I am, they don't have time to notice when I'm being held prisoner by Voldemort or chased by Death Eaters. Everyone knows I'm going to have to face him again, and if I'm going to win, I need to know what I'm doing."

Snape did not respond, and Harry pressed his point. "I know everyone's trying to protect me. And I guess they want to try to put off whatever's going to happen. But that's just dumb. Voldemort's not going to wait for me to graduate and finish my Auror training. People keep telling me not to rush out to fight him, but I'm not. I'd be very happy to meet him in two hundred years or something. But he's in a rush. And every day I'm not training is one day less ready I'll be when it happens."

"And why learn it from me?" Snape asked.

"Who else? I know Dumbledore would say no. Remus might, but he's always out doing whatever it is everyone's doing. You know what I need to know. And I'm sure you won't be too worried about hurting The-Boy-Who-Lived to teach me."

"I will speak to Dumbledore when he returns," Snape said.

"He'll just say it's a bad idea. You know he will."

Snape gazed at Harry. "I did not say I would ask him. I will talk to him when he returns and tell him I'll be adding magical combat training to your lessons."

Harry was shocked that anyone would tell Dumbledore anything like that, but held his tongue. He was about to thank the man when he was interrupted by a voice at the door.

"Us, too," Hermione said. She pushed the door open and the other three crowded in. "We'll all take the lessons with you, Harry."

"What makes you think I will teach you anything, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shifter her weight to lean on one leg and put her hand on her hip. Harry knew that pose and saw by Ron's smirk that the other boy did too. Here comes the logic.

"Well, for one, we're going to be joining the Order as soon as we're old enough, so we'll have to learn it anyway. Plus, if the Death Eaters find this place, we'll be in as much danger as anyone else, so we might as well be able to help. Third-"

Ron interrupted. "Look, there's no way we're letting Harry go off and fight Voldemort alone. We might as well be useful during the fight. But with or without those lessons, we'll be there." Ginny and Neville added their agreement.

"I will allow Miss Granger to join us, as she is unlikely to hold you back, Potter. Longbottom may also attend, though he will likely need tutoring outside of what I will provide." Snape stared at Neville, who promptly turned white. "If you fall behind, you will not be permitted to continue, is that clear?" Neville nodded.

"The Weasleys, however, will need their parents' permission." Ron started to object, and Snape continued. "I will not put up with your mother's incessant screeching. Work it out with her on your own."

-----

Mrs. Weasley, to no one's surprise, refused to even consider the idea. In fact, Ron and Ginny had endured an hour's lecture on behaving responsibly and keeping themselves safe for just suggesting it to her. That led, of course, to the current planning session as the group decided how best to work Ron and Ginny's parents against each other. Harry, though, was unwilling to help his friends put themselves in danger.

"Oh come off it, Harry," Hermione said. "Honestly, are you mad at all of us or something?"

"Of course not. But I'm the only one who should be worrying about this. None of you are being hunted. I don't want you getting hurt. It would be safer for you to let me handle that on my own."

"Well, obviously that's not going to happen, mate," Ron said.

"Yeah. Sorry if you don't like it, but if we have to follow you around spying on you, we will," Neville added.

"It's your fault anyway, you know," Ginny said and grinned at him. "If you don't want us to protect you, you shouldn't keep acting like someone we want to watch out for. You don't see anyone offering to go to Death Eater meetings with Snape, do you?"

The others laughed. Harry frowned. "No, I guess not."

"You might as well help us get into those lessons, Harry," Ron said. "There's no way you're fighting Voldemort without me. If you don't help me learn how to fight, then you're really putting me in more danger, right?"

Harry finally gave in. He knew his friend was right. And there was something comforting about knowing he would have his friends next to him no matter what came.

"Okay," Harry said. "First of all, you can't tell her what you just said to me. I know it may be true, but you can't tell her that. We need to convince her it's a good idea even if you won't be chasing down Voldemort with me."

"The village," Hermione said. "We're already in danger, right? That's why we were attacked."

"And you need to protect your little sister," Ginny added. The twinkle in her eye reminded Harry of the twins. Yes, she was definitely one of them. "Don't forget to tell her that."

"What about you, though?" Neville asked. "You don't have a little sister to protect."

Ginny shrugged. "I have to protect my big brother. Weasleys look out for each other. Besides, like Hermione said, I'm in danger, and Ron can't be around me all the time."

Cast in that light, Mrs. Weasley's resolve waned and she finally agreed, contingent upon both Ginny and Ron promising they would never go out looking for trouble. Both had made and broken that promise thousands of times, so once more seemed insignificant. Hermione looked smug; Harry worried. His friends were in danger because they had helped him in the Department of Mysteries. Mrs. Weasley had clearly not liked the idea of her children learning magical combat, but the threat to their lives was now unavoidable. How long until people realized Harry was to blame for that?

-----

That evening, Harry took up Snape's offer to talk. He was not quite sure what he wanted to talk about, though. There were a lot of things going through his head–hings about Snape, things about himself. How odd, he thought, that Snape, of all people, was the person he felt he could be most honest with.

Harry entered Snape's room and sat down in the chair Snape indicated with a nod. The man was reading the same tome from the previous night. He looked up, but Harry was still not sure what he had come in for. After a moment, his attention returned to the book. Harry sat in silence gathering his thoughts. This was new territory for him and Snape, and he had no idea how to start saying the things he wanted to say. Well, he realized, the territory was not entirely new. There had been a few days when he and his teacher had spoken very freely. They had joked and even enjoyed each other's company. Those days seemed long past, but the memory of them made it easier to think of Snape as, well, a human.

Finally, Harry forced himself to say something, anything, to break the silence. "So, uh, Oliver Wood was pretty cute, wasn't he?" He could feel his face turning red and immediately felt like a fool. What a stupid thing to say. Snape, no doubt, agreed.

"What in the world are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry jumped from his chair. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll leave you alone."

"Sit down, Potter." Snape closed his book and leaned back in his chair. His voice softened. "Please, have a seat."

Harry sat back down and stared at his hands. Snape continued. "You have never said it out loud, have you?"

"Said what?"

"There is power in words. There are things that exist in our imaginations and our memories. Things we wish were not there. When we speak of them, they become real. When we say them to others, they solidify. We cannot take them back, and there is now one person in the world who will know your fear. One person to whom you cannot deny your fear. That gives the fear power."

Harry looked up but said nothing.

"But there is another side to the power of words. You know that side. You say his name when no one else does. That gives you power over your fear. That's a power very few others have. When you say his name, it frees you."

Snape fell silent. Harry still did not speak. Finally, Snape again spoke.

"You can say it, Harry. There is freedom on the words. I know."

Harry found his voice. He met Snape's eyes. "I'm gay."

Snape nodded. "There. Your secret is no longer a secret. You cannot untell it, and you cannot deny it. Not to me at least. Therein lies the fear. But you now need never pretend to be something you are not to me. And therein lies the freedom."

Harry smiled in the candlelight. His heart was pounding out the truth in Snape's words. It had felt good to finally say it aloud, even though Snape already knew. He had heard the words coming from his mouth as if someone else had spoken them, and it had felt wonderful to experience.

"I realize, Harry, that I am not the person you would have chosen to be the first to hear that."

"Well, sir, maybe not. But then again, I don't know if I would have told anyone else, either."

"That is unlikely. Eventually you will tell your friends." Harry crossed his arms and tilted back in his chair. His friends were not a topic he felt like talking about. He hated lying to them about this, but the idea of telling them left him cold inside. Snape must have sensed that, though, as he quite effectively took Harry's mind off of it.

"And yes, Mr. Wood was quite a specimen, wasn't he?" Snape smirked. Harry fell back off the chair.