Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 27

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Severus knelt in front of Harry and cupped his face in his hands. "You are not entirely irresistible, Mr. Potter, despite what your fans say, and I am more a coward than you are attractive. Do you think I would have allowed myself to care this much about you if I thought you would not survive this?"

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"What if you're wrong?" Harry asked softly.

"I refuse to accept the alternative," Severus replied, as if that were enough. For a moment, Harry almost thought it was. He gathered his cloak and stood up, squeezing Severus's hand.

"Stay here, Harry. Talk to your friends. You'll feel better."

"You make me feel better."

"They are worried about you, Harry. And as little as I care about their worries, I am all too aware that they will soon begin to pester us both about what has happened." Severus let go of Harry's hand and opened the door. His face took on its familiar sneer. "Furthermore, Potter, while the Headmaster may have let this matter drop, I have not forgotten that you disobeyed me earlier. Report to my classroom in two hours for detention. I have cauldrons in need of cleaning."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied meekly for any audience gathered in the hall. With his usual fluid stride, Severus exited the room. Ron came in hesitantly. Hermione followed.

"Give us a minute, Dean?" She asked the other boy. With a worried glance at Harry, Dean nodded and headed down the hall. Hermione closed the door and sat on Ron's bed while Ron shifted his weight from foot to foot.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione cleared her throat. "So, what did the Headmaster say?"

"The same thing he said in his office," Harry replied sullenly.

"So you two aren't . . ." Ron trailed off.

"No, I'm still going to see him. I told Dumbledore he can't stop me, and he knows I'm right."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's the Headmaster."

Harry chuckled. "I didn't think you'd approve. But Dumbledore hasn't exactly made the best decisions for me so far, has he? He handed me over to the Dursleys and didn't bother to check on me for eleven years. Then he hired two Death Eaters to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not to mention everything that happened last year. It's time I started making my own decisions."

Hermione pursed her lips, but did not argue. After some more silence, Ron spoke up. "You don't really believe what you said before, do you Harry? About You-Know-Who killing you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Severus says I can beat him. But maybe he's just saying that."

"Well, I don't know what he's like when it's just you two, but Snape's never seemed like the type to say something to make you feel better," Ron said. "And you might not believe me, but I think you can beat him, too."

"You don't know what he can do," Harry replied. "I've seen him killing people before."

"So has Professor Snape," Hermione pointed out. "Who else knows you and Voldemort as well as he does? He's certainly never overestimated what you can do."

Harry agreed with a chuckle.

"That's one problem done with, then," Ron said with a nod. "Now on to the next one. How did Dumbledore find out about all this? You know we didn't tell anyone, right?"

"Of course I do. And Severus knows it, too. Not that he'd ever admit it. Someone else must have found out."

"Someone saw you going into his room, maybe?" Hermione offered. Harry shook his head and explained that he always wore his cloak. "One of the ghosts?"

"They know better than to go into Severus's rooms."

"Well," Hermione said, "he is the Headmaster. Maybe he can just tell what's going on in the school."

"He's missed a lot over the years. That basilisk had no problem getting around, remember? Someone must have told him."

"And we can't very well go around asking people if they squealed, can we?" Ron muttered.

Harry frowned and shook his head. "There's no point in worrying about it. If someone already knows, there's nothing we can do now. I'll still be careful to use my cloak so no one else hears of it." Ron still looked angry at the unknown informant. "And listen. Thanks for putting up with me through all of this. I know you two aren't thrilled about me and him."

"Well, I wouldn't say we're unhappy about it. But I don't think we understand it either." Harry searched for the words to explain when Hermione stopped him. "We don't have to." She looked over at Ron for confirmation.

"You'd really have left school because of him?" Ron asked.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Looking back, he wondered if he had not been overreacting. But he still was not as sure about his own survival as everyone else seemed to be, and in that light, leaving school to face Voldemort had been less frightening than losing what he had with Severus. Severus probably thought he was acting like a child. "Yeah," Harry replied. "Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever said, but I would have left. I know that might sound like I don't care about you two as much, but that's not it. It's just different with him."

"You don't have to explain," Hermione assured him. "It's supposed to be different, isn't it?

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Harry was halfway to Severus's rooms when he remembered that the man had specifically told him to report to the Potions classroom. Stifling a grin, he changed direction and headed to his detention. Severus had a cauldron set up at the front of the room and was swiftly chopping something beside it. He glanced up at Harry briefly, but the brew held his attention. "You are two minutes late, Mr. Potter. The cauldrons in that corner need to be cleaned. Please take care of that while I attend to this."

Harry pulled the door closed and watched Severus carefully. He had not seemed genuinely upset in the Tower, but now? Harry really had to clean the cauldrons? He still felt guilty at being so ready to leave Severus behind to meet Voldemort, so without a word, he rolled up his sleeves lifted the first cauldron into the sink. He wondered what foul concoction it had held, and if the sticky mess inside was intended or the result of some Neville-scale accident.

"What in the world are you doing?" Severus asked from behind him. Suddenly terrified that the viscous stuff would react badly with water, Harry froze.

"I was going to clean this." Harry almost added a "sir" at the end out of habit. In years past this was the point in the conversation where Severus would explain in gory detail how Harry's stupidity had nearly resulted in catastrophe.

"I can see that, Harry, but thank you. I meant: why are you using the sink? You should be carrying at least two wands."

"Oh," Harry said sheepishly, turning around. "I thought you wanted me to scrub them. You know, like old times."

"A cleaning charm will do. Did you really think this was punishment? I would clean them myself but this potion requires far too much attention."

Blushing, Harry returned the cauldron to its place on the counter. "I wasn't sure. I guess I was a bit childish before, so treating me like one wouldn't be too far off, would it?"

"I do not recall calling you childish. Foolish, yes. Impetuous, absolutely. Suicidal, quite."

"I see where that's going, thank you," Harry interrupted. Severus responded with a grunt and turned back to his work as Harry made short work of the cauldron's, levitating them back to their shelves once cleaned. As took a seat to watch the Potions Master work, the some of man's words in the Tower came back to him.

"Did you mean what you said up there," Harry asked quietly. "About not letting me face the Dark Lord alone?"

Severus looked up, surprised, then gazed thoughtfully into his cauldron. "I meant I would not allow Dumbledore to upset you again, causing you to run off." He stirred the concoction and sprinkled something into it. "That is not to say, however, that I want you to face the Dark Lord alone when the time comes. But at this moment, I would be more of a hindrance in such a battle. You cannot protect yourself while you are protecting me."

"When we get the Mark off you, then?" Harry felt the stirring of guilt as he asked the question. He knew it was unfair to ask a question like that. As Hermione had said, no one knew Voldemort as well as Severus, and no one had more reason to be afraid of him.

"As I do not believe you intended to insult me right now, I will pretend you did not ask me that question," Severus muttered. Harry smiled.

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The whispers in the hallway started right after breakfast. While this was nothing particularly new for Harry, it still irritated him. Hushed conversations, giggles and chuckling from groups of students, all mysteriously quiet when Harry passed by. Hermione had the Daily Prophet delivered, but nothing had been printed about Harry that day. Whatever the latest bit of gossip was, Harry knew he would hear of it soon enough and tried to concentrate on his classes.

On their way to lunch, Harry, Ron and Hermione passed a knot of Ravenclaw boys who sniggered at they walked by. As they entered the Great Hall, the word "poof" followed. Harry paled, but kept walking. Hermione's grip on Ron's sleeve kept the other boy moving, too. At the Gryffindor table, several of the younger years watched Harry curiously as they took their seats. As usual, Ginny and Neville joined them at the end of the bench.

"Have you two heard anything-" Hermione asked them, but was cut off by Neville's angry nod.

"Luna said everyone in Ravenclaw's heard about it. I guess the whole school knows. Harry, what happened last night?"

With a sigh, Harry replied, "I can't talk about it. I'm sorry. I really am. What exactly did Luna hear?" He stomach knotted up, terrified at what horrible things had been said about him and Severus. He could just imagine that the other man would bear the brunt of the rumors.

As if on cue, Severus swept into the room. No one dared snicker at the feared professor, of course, who made a show of helping Professor Jones into her seat–something he had not done in some time. Harry watched the whole thing through the corner of his eye, afraid to show too much interest in the man's actions.

"Just that you're . . ." Neville looked around before continuing. "You know. They said someone in Gryffindor heard you talking to Ron and Hermione about dating some guy."

"They didn't say who?" Harry asked in a whisper. Neville shrugged.

"I heard the same thing," Ginny added. "I don't know who started it, but I told everyone in my Charms class that I thought it was a pretty pathetic Gryffindor that spread rumors about someone." Harry gave the girl a smile.

"This doesn't quite add up," Hermione said. "Maybe two people know?"

"Why two people?" Neville asked. "What aren't you telling us, Harry?" Harry frowned at the question. "Wait. Nevermind. You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"I am seeing someone," Harry replied. Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "But I can't tell you who. It's not that I don't want to; I've promised to keep it a secret. Someone told Dumbledore, though. He wasn't too happy about it."

"So that's why you were so upset last night." Neville observed.

"And someone else heard you talking to Ron and Hermione about it?" Ginny asked. "You're really bad at keeping secrets."

"Maybe," Hermione said. "Or maybe not. Let's face it, this may not be a student. Or it might be someone who's getting information from someone else." She looked pointedly at Harry. Everyone knew the implication.

I need to talk to Severus, Harry thought.

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The other man had no new information, though. Whispers in the dungeon were about Harry only, and Severus had not heard so much as a hint of his own involvement with the boy. Harry decided to visit the man less, worried about being seen in the dungeons. As the week went on, a few students grew bolder with their comments. He recognized Millicent Bulstrode's voice, and Blaise Zabini's as well. That those Slytherins would choose to harass Harry was no surprise. But they were not the only students whose taunts followed him in the hall. Never to his face, though. The insults flew down the halls, around corners, at his back. A part of him hoped someone would say something, anything, to his face so he could silence the cowards ridiculing him, but even then, he worried, Dumbledore may not take his side in the conflict. At the same time, no small part of him was desperately afraid of facing his attackers directly, as the thought of answering the rumors terrified him.

The tension followed Harry all day. He tried to shrug it off, but seeing how it affected his friends made it harder. He was constantly keeping Ron from calling someone out. Hermione had blown up in the hallway, on Tuesday, berating a group of young Ravenclaws for their language. They were forced to act contrite because she was a prefect, but her words had no lasting effect. The taunts alone would not have been so bad if Harry was not already sinking into a strange mood as the weekend of the next Markings approached. Nightmares of the last summer's ceremony plagued him by night, fitting between dreams of Draco's broken body falling from the Willow's flailing limbs.

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By Thursday, Harry had had enough. He was fighting a losing battle by keeping silent. He refused to lie and deny the rumors, but the thought of admitting their truth was terrifying. Things were getting worse, though, and it was just a matter of time before Ron got expelled defending him. Harry made up his mind amidst the snickers and stares at lunch. He stood and walked to the head table, conscious of the eyes of the hall on him.

"Headmaster, I was wondering if you would permit me to address the school," he said quietly. "I'm sure you know there are rumors making the rounds about me–just me–and I thought the best way to deal with them would be by addressing them directly."

Dumbledore pursed his lips and replied, "Could I stop you if I wanted to?"

"Yes," Harry replied stiffly. "I am asking permission, after all. The rumors are limited to just me. I won't talk about anyone else, if you're worried about that."

"If you feel you need to address the rumors, then I am in no position to stop you," the Headmaster replied.

"Excuse me, everyone," Harry said, keeping his voice calm and polite, and just loud enough to carry across the room. Inside, however, his mind was racing and his pulse quickened. He focused on what he was saying and ignored the swirls of fear and worry that threatened to force him to break into a run. "I'm sure you've all heard the rumors about me. On any given day, there are usually several, really, but the newest one seems to be that I'm gay." Not even the rustle of someone shifting in their seat could be heard.

"First, they're true. I am gay. And second," Harry went on, stifling the burst of whispers, gasps and snickering that followed. "I don't know who started the rumor, and I really don't care. I do know, though, that some of you have reacted with a surprising amount of hatred to it.

"Bulstrode, Zabini, Edgecombe, Quirke, don't think that just because you've been too cowardly to say anything to my face that I can't recognize your voices. There are others, and I know you all. This is the only time I'm saying this. Voldemort has tried to kill me a half dozen times. An army of Death Eaters is roaming Britain with orders to kill or capture me on sight. I've faced a dragon, a basilisk, and enough Dementors to make any one of you paralyzed with sorrow. If you think your sad little taunts from across a hallway are going to give me some kind of breakdown, you are as wrong as you are pathetic. I'll put up with it for now, because I have bigger things to worry about than any of you will ever amount to. But words like that hurt more people than just me, and eventually I will tire of it. This is your only warning, so pay close attention. If I do choose to deal with you, I will not only stop the insults, I will take steps to make sure they cannot continue." Harry gave an edge of coldness to his voice as he met the eyes of the four he named. "There is a subtle difference between the two. If you lack the wit to figure that out on your own, it would be wise to ask someone to explain it to you. If I have to show you what I mean, it will be far too late for the information to help you."

Silence followed him to his seat, and he took his place calmly, though his mind was still screaming at him. Ron leaned over and whispered, "Mate, you've got to spend less time with Snape. That sounded just like something he'd say."

Harry looked at his friend in surprise, then burst into sudden laughter. Hermione and Ron joined in, breaking the tension in the room.

"What he doing?" Harry tilted his head in Severus's direction, unwilling to look over to the Professor's table. Ron glanced over Harry's shoulder.

"Nothing. Always looks the same to me, though, so who knows."

Harry chuckled and returned to his meal, choosing not to let the stunned expressions on many of his classmates affect him.

After lunch, Harry realized that his public announcement had an unexpected effect. Now, instead of talking about him, people wanted to talk to him about it. By far, the most common question was, "Who is your boyfriend?" Harry fended off the question, explaining that he did not want to say. He did tell people, however, that he was seeing someone who was a student, but not enrolled at Hogwarts. The attention worried him, though, and by the time he walked into the Potions classroom, he was worried about Severus's reaction. What if people started watching Harry more carefully now?

Severus was not in the classroom as the students filed in, but that was nothing unusual. Moments after the last student scurried into her seat, the door in the front of the room flew open with a bang and Severus, robes swirling, strode in coolly. He stopped before his desk without a word and stared at Harry. His face betrayed nothing, like carved marble, as his dark eyes locked Harry into his seat. Moments crawled by and Harry began to shift uncomfortably. "It seems we've found the reason for your penchant for the dramatic, Mr. Potter." His voice held just a hint of contempt, and the class, no longer expecting the man to verbally assault Harry at every turn, was taken aback. Harry glared back, not entirely sure if he was pretending to be angry or truly felt it. With a wave of his hand, Severus filled the blackboard with directions and ordered the class to begin brewing.

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"That was quite a show you put on today," Severus said as Harry hung his father's cloak up.

"Are you mad?" Harry asked, worried. "I should have talked to you before I said something. I know this affects you. But it's been horrible all week. I had to say something, and I didn't want to lie.

"You did what you felt you needed to. I understand you're dating someone at another school." Severus smirked.

"I didn't say that." Harry grinned back at the man. "I said I was seeing a student. You still study new potions, don't you? And I said you weren't enrolled here at Hogwarts, which you are not." He stood close to the man's chest and glared unconvincingly. "And how can you make one of your grand entrances into the dungeons and say I'm the dramatic one with a straight face?"

"I think you'll find, Mr. Potter, that I can do any number of things with a straight face."

"That sounds like a challenge, to me," Harry said playfully.

"You find most things challenging, do you not?"

Harry dropped on to the couch and looked over at Severus, amused. "You want a challenge, just try to sit next to me after saying that." He flipped open his textbook and turned to the chapter he needed to read. "So, was I convincingly threatening? Terribly scary and all that?"

"Oh, very," Severus replied. "Vague threats are always more intimidating. Those being threatened are free to imagine their own horrors rather than having them described."

"That's high praise coming from you," Harry observed. "Ron thinks I'm spending too much time with you. Said I sounded just like you at lunch."

"You do spend too much time with me," Severus replied, as the answer was expected. "However, if you had sounded just like me, at least three of the five students you named would have been crying."

Harry stretched his legs out on the couch as Severus moved to sit beside him. "Don't be boastful," he admonished. "It's unbecoming." The older man swept his legs off the cushion and settled next to him without a word.

They worked quietly for some time, Harry doing his reading, Severus muttering under his breath about rampant cerebral damage among fourth years as he marked essays. "Are you prepared for this weekend?" The man asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not much I can do to get ready, is there? You're making the Limbless' Draught?"

"It is made and waiting for you in the infirmary. Poppy will administer it. I was thinking, if you focus on the first Marking and return, the memory can be checked in the Pensieve immediately. It may be that you will only need to subject yourself to the one."

"Mdm. Pomfrey? You won't be there?" Harry frowned.

"The Headmaster wants most of the faculty patrolling the grounds. We do not want any students slipping away. Flitwick will be with you as well. He can check that the memory is complete and is not particularly suited to chasing students down."

Harry nodded and sighed, leaning against the man. "I'll manage. I always do."

"You are aware, I hope, that I . . ." Severus adjusted his robes around him, fussing with them. "That is to say, if I were able to . . ."

"I know you would," Harry said softly.

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With little information about the timing of the Markings, Harry was sent to the infirmary early Saturday warning. His friends would be allowed to visit, but every two hours, Harry would have to check on Voldemort. Before he went to see Mdm. Pomfrey, though, he sought out Severus, who was on his way to watch the gate to Hogsmeade.

"Hello, Professor," he called as he rushed out of the castle. Severus turned back and waited for him to catch up. They had not see each other since the night of Harry's outing. "I have something to give you. Well, lend you. Though I guess you might not give it back." He took out the Marauder's Map.

"I seem to recall already having confiscated that from you once," Severus observed dryly.

Harry ducked his head. "Yeah. Anyway . . . I solemnly swear I am up to no good." The ink appeared and Harry showed the paper to his teacher. "Mischief managed. It'll help you today."

"You are correct. I should not return this to you. For that matter, you should have given it directly to the Headmaster, as he is overseeing the faculty in our surveillance."

"I suppose. But I don't feel like talking to him right now. Anyway, I'd like that back when you're done with it, please. The Headmaster knows I have it, so you can't give me detention for it."

"I can give you detention for whatever I want. But I also knew you had this, if you recall. I was wondering if you would want to remind me of it, though. This only makes it easier for you to get into trouble."

"I haven't been getting into anything lately, and you know that. And the only reason I thought against giving it to you was the names written on it. I don't want to make you think about them. But it's important."

"It is. And this will help, thank you," Severus unfolded the map and glared at it. "Must I really say that ridiculous phrase?"

"It's the only one I've seen work. The ones you tried three years ago sure didn't." Harry grinned, Severus shifted his glare from the map to Harry.

"Go." The Potions Master's eyes swept across the many windows looking over them. "I will check on you when I am able."

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The smell of burnt skin and muscled wafted around him like perfume. The flesh blistered and cracked as the Mark spread out from his wand, while the music of his newest servant's screams masked his whispered spells. This one would follow–another believer, having known no other lord than the one that was branding him as his own.

Harry pulled himself from Voldemort's mind, just managing to roll over to the basin beside him as he threw up. A damp rag appeared at his elbow, and he took it gratefully, wiping his mouth.

"I think I saw it all," Harry said to Flitwick and shivered. "I hope I did."

The worried look Flitwick had had all day remained on his face as he fretted at Harry's bedside. "We'll take a look whenever you're ready, Mr. Potter. No rush. Take your time."

"I'm happy to be rid of the memory," Harry responded, taking his wand up and coaxing the thread from his mind. His stomach settled almost instantly.

Flitwick set the Pensieve on a stool and fixed his gaze on it. Pomfrey came in and fussed about Harry a bit; he assured her he was fine. Finally, the Charms Professor stirred again, looking like he may need his own basin.

"Well, it's a complete memory. A horrible one, but complete. We can keep it in the Pensieve if you'd like, for now. Professor McGonagall and I plan on going over it tonight she can help."

"No, I'll take it back," Harry responded, taking the silver bowl from the man. "If the bowl spilled or something, who knows when we'd get another chance." The short teacher nodded, but looked sorrowful as Harry slipped the memory back into his mind. "It's not that bad." Harry tried to reassure him. "It's not the worst memory I have from him." That only seemed to make the Professor even more upset, so Harry stopped talking.