Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 29

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As the student body shuffled lazily into the Great Hall on the Monday following the Dark Lord's Markings, Severus paid particular attention to the older members of each house. He was still not sure if he should be reassured or doubly worried that no obvious attempts were made to join Voldemort. Thomas's condition worried him, too, though he would never have used the term to himself or to others. And since Albus insisted on playing games, Severus turned to Hestia Jones for information.

"What is your opinion on Mr. Thomas's condition?" he asked, leaning close to the Defense teacher. A handful of snickers from the students revealed the persistence of the rumors Harry had found so amusing.

"I don't know what to think about it, really," Hestia answered. "Whatever magic is still on him is more stubborn than any I've seen. It doesn't seem to be doing anything at all, but it's definitely there. We can't determine what the effect is, or what it was meant to do, or if it's even a full spell or something left over from a ritual." She dropped her fork on her plate and pushed it away from her.

"I will talk to Albus about going to see the boy," Severus said, just making up his mind. Hestia shook her head.

"I already brought that up with him, and he seemed to think it was a bad idea. He says you can't leave without Harry, and Harry can't leave at all." Severus only growled in response. At least Albus was not taking his distrust of them too far. He knew the risk to him alone was high, and taking Harry out of the school was out of the question.

"What do you think about bringing the boy here, then? For an evening at most, so I may try some potions and see what I can make of this magic?" Severus asked. As the Defense teacher, Hestia was in the best position to advise Albus on how dangerous Thomas was to Harry and the school.

"With proper precautions, I would say it's worth trying. I would want to be there, of course, and Albus as well. Filius, too, maybe. Just in case."

Severus nodded in agreement. "And Mr. Potter safely stowed in some far corner of the castle. Perhaps you could suggest it to Albus. I do not know how open he is to my ideas right now. You may tell him you already have my cooperation."

Hestia agreed, and Severus's attention was drawn to the entrance of Nott. The boy slowed as he approached the Slytherin table, and Severus was quick to see why. The usual place left to him, the far end closest to the faculty table, was taken. That had been his de facto place since his return, until now. Though nothing showed in his face, he appeared to make up his mind about something as his pace returned to normal, heading to the far side of the table. Severus wondered if he was going to force the boy currently there, an unremarkable third year, into moving for him. But before the issue arose, several of the fifth years shifted their seats without a word, giving him a place next to the rest of the sixths. In typical Slytherin style, the boy was allowed back into Slytherin society, if not welcomed with open arms.

Satisfied with the outcome, Severus reflected on the conversation the two had had the previous night. Though the question of exactly why Severus had stood by while the Dark Lord scarred the boy did not come up, Nott had made it clear that he understood why Severus might have thought he wished to be Marked. For his part, Severus had divulged some of his own history and discovered that there had been no rumors at all, that Nott knew of, that Severus has not been totally loyal until the week before the summer ended. While immaterial at this point, Severus's pride was stroked to find out that he had played his part so well.

Nott had also told him about the part the boy had played in talking some sense into Slytherin House. He had to admire how Harry had planted the seeds of Riddle's history without saying too much. Anyone with half a brain would discount the rumors started by the Dark Lord's enemy, but discovering that knowledge on one's own could be very different. Nott believed that at least a half dozen students decided to stay in the past weekend because of it, and Severus agreed. How many would not be swayed, though–how many had been caught out of bounds with a plausible excuse, or knew better than to try to escape over the weekend–that was not clear at all.

At the moment, things were at a stalemate, but the Dark Lord seemed to be holding all the cards. The Ministry, despite Bones's competence, was still a lumbering beast, far too bogged down in its own bureaucracy to be of any real use. Any Aurors willing to do double duty in the Ministry and the Order already were. The general populace was useless. That left their side on the defensive with few ways to boost their power. The Dark Lord, though, was recruiting, and doing so actively. They had the power of dark magic to augment their natural abilities, and, more than anything else, they had time. If Voldemort believed he could win in an outright fight against Harry, he would wait for Harry to come to him, when he was in control. Soon, the attacks on innocents would become more frequent; Harry would start feeling the guilt that was always bubbling at the edge of his thoughts and seek to end the war quickly.

He needed to talk to Harry.

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Not far away, Harry was coming to the same conclusion as Severus. If the Dark Lord was stretching himself further into Europe, it could only mean he was planning something more aggressive than subtle plots on Harry's life. Harry felt every loss Voldemort caused, and he was sure Voldemort knew that. As long as things remained as they were, Harry was at a disadvantage. The training with Hestia and Severus was invaluable, but Voldemort was stronger than both of them. And while Severus seemed to think that Harry possessed as much raw power as Voldemort, Voldemort was certainly more skilled. Harry wondered if Severus should be teaching him the Killing Curse.

He was bolstered, though, by Nott's entrance into the hall and the reaction of the Slytherin table. A small triumph, perhaps, but better than nothing.

After breakfast, Luna joined them in the hallway as they walked to class. Holding hands with Neville, she gave Harry one of her strange smiles. "I heard some interesting rumors this weekend. Lots of Ravenclaws wanted to know who Tom Riddle was. Especially the ones with friends in Slytherin."

"I bet they did," Ron said. "You-Know-Who was pretty mad at Nott the other day. Wasn't he, Harry?"

"Sure was," Harry responded. "I don't think Nott minded too much, either. He seemed to think it was worth it."

"Well, from what I heard," Luna added, "Slytherins think he did a lot of them a favor. They don't know how he's lived this long, but they're glad he brought up Riddle before this weekend. Not everyone's happy, though."

Harry thought back to that second year watching Nott suffering in the Slytherin Common Room and nodded. Voldemort still had supporters here; he was sure of it.

Classes went by in the manner they typically do when one's attention is on anything but the material being studied. Harry spent most of the day wondering about whether or not his memories of the Marking had been any help. Until Transfiguration, he had not been sure if anyone had even looked at them. After class, McGonagall assured him that she and Flitwick had taken a first look at them last night and would be doing a more detailed study that evening. Hermione offered to help take notes, but as she had already promised Harry she would not actually view the memory, he trusted her to keep her word.

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Severus watched the students file out of the last class of the day, noting, without looking directly at him, that Harry was lingering, pretending to be searching for something in his bag. When they were alone, he waited to see if Harry wanted to stay in the classroom or return to his room. The glittering sheen of his invisibility cloak answered the question, and Severus led the way.

Once his door closed, Severus felt familiar arms around him, and disembodied mouth pressed a kiss to his lips as Harry's head appeared. Severus greeted him by pulling him into his arms and deepening the kiss. It was unusual for them to pass an entire weekend without being alone together, and he found he missed Harry after only a few days.

"I missed you," Harry said.

"That is hardly surprising. My company is in high demand," Severus replied. He went into the kitchen as Harry sunk on to the couch. "Your map is on the mantle beneath that hideous lacquer affair." He could hear Harry's laugh cover the sound of the young man rising to retrieve the parchment."

"Thank you," Harry called to him. "And I'm glad to hear you think that thing's hideous. I didn't want to say anything. What is it?"

"I have no idea," Severus answered, returning to the main room with two teacups. "Art, one presumes." Harry grinned and took a cup from him.

"Since you brought it up, is there a reason that all your–uh, art–is so. . ."

"Tacky is the word you are looking for. And it is mine only in so far as it has been forced upon me over the course of several years. My cousin insists on buying me the ugliest pieces of trash she can find. The tragedy is that, as far as I can tell, she sincerely believes they are attractive."

"Really?" Harry asked, gawking at a mother-of-pearl monstrosity set just far enough up on the bookcase as to be easily ignored. "Why keep it out if you don't like it? And here I just thought you had bad taste."

"My poor taste extends only to the company I keep. Unfortunately, she visits now and then and seems to have inventoried everything she has ever forced on me."

Harry's grin warned Severus of an upcoming barrage of sentimentality. "I assume you wish to hear about your housemate," he said before Harry could start.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked. Severus filled him in on what little he knew and Hestia's agreement that Thomas might benefit from his expertise. "Can we come see him if Dumbledore says it's okay?"

"That depends on the nature of the magic still on him. But assuming I find no threat, and both the Headmaster and Professor Jones agree, then yes, you may." That earned Severus another kiss, which was not particularly surprising, as just about anything did that while they were alone.

When Harry pulled away, Severus could see the young man's nervousness in his eyes. "Severus, can I ask you something? About us?" Harry tried for a lighthearted chuckle and added, "You can always not answer, after all."

"I think we are beyond the point where I can just refuse to answer," Severus said, not sure if that would reassure Harry or not. Aside from that first evening when Severus told Harry he could join him here in his rooms whenever he liked, they had not really spoken about their relationship.

"I guess. . ." Harry trailed off. "I was just wondering why. . . I mean, do you, you know, wish I was older?"

"Some things would be simpler if you were older," Severus answered. "I am sure you realize that. But by the same token, they would be just as easy if I were younger."

"I don't mean easier with other people–Dumbledore and I guess the press, too, if they find out."

"I am not sure what you are asking, Harry."

Harry looked down at his hands and as he spoke, a pink blush rose from his neck. "Would you find me more, you know, attractive, if I wasn't so young?"

Severus reached out to run his finger along Harry's reddening jaw and lifted his chin so he could look in his eyes. "Did something give you the impression that I don't find you attractive enough as you are?"

"Well, I just feel like I'm always, you know, starting stuff. And you never seem to want to take things further than kissing." Harry's blush deepened, and Severus resisted the urge to change the subject again.

"It seems to me I rarely have time to start anything. You are usually invisible when we come in here. If my enthusiasm in returning your kisses did not suffice, let me assure you I do find you attractive, and I do enjoy the physical aspect of our relationship."

"But. . ." Harry prompted.

Severus shook his head. "And. And when the time comes, I am sure I will enjoy what comes next." Rather than watch him ruin his robe by picking at a loose thread, Severus took Harry's hand in his. "I told you, that night we kissed, that I was worried I would rush you into something you were not ready for. I have been letting you set the pace of our relationship."

"Oh." Harry smiled at him and he gave his hand a squeeze. The young man's blush returned in a rush as he spoke again, "What if I don't know how to . . . change the pace?"

What Harry was asking was not lost on Severus, but as he considered how to answer, he was interrupted by the obtrusive arrival of a Messenger spell.

Harry saw the dart, too, though the message was heard only by Severus. "Minerva has news," Severus told him. "The workroom off the library." Harry nodded anxiously and grabbed for his invisibility cloak. Watching him gather his bag, the Potions Master stopped him before he could pull the cloak around him.

"Harry," Severus was caught in the bright green eyes of the young man he had come to care so much for. It was suddenly important for him to say this before he found out what Minerva and Filius had found out. "Not matter what this is about, I want to thank you. No one has ever suffered so much for me." He cut off Harry's protest with a raised hand. "I regret nearly everything that happened between us before this past summer. And nothing since." Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, and Severus felt trapped by the emotion he could see there. With a kiss, he reached around and pulled the cloak over Harry's head and opened the archway in the wall. "Come," he said and slipped out of the room, satisfied that he had told Harry what he needed to and relieved he had escaped the aftermath.

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Harry ducked behind a statue outside the library and pulled off his cloak. Severus was already inside, so he hurried to catch up to him, hoping as he did so that his expression would not betray too much to his other professors. He was not sure why his fears about Severus's attraction to him had surfaced so suddenly, but he suspected it was tied to his realization that morning that Voldemort was gathering his power for more aggressive maneuvers. And because of that, Severus's words before they left his rooms had meant so much. No matter what came next, the time they had had together so far had not been wasted for either of them.

In the workroom behind the tapestry, Severus and the other professors were leaning over a wide parchment spread across the table. Harry could a series of runes traced along it, with notes beneath each in Hermione's neat hand. Letting the elder wizards work, Harry went over to his friend. "Well?"

Hermione smiled back at him, and his beat faster with anticipation of good news. "We–they–learned a lot. No one's every done anything this complex before, which is hardly a surprise, so they're not entirely sure about some things. But I think they've worked out most of it."

"Can the Mark be broken, then?" That was really all Harry cared about. He was not interested in discussing how innovative Voldemort's approach had been.

"They think so, but there're some problems."

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, why don't you join us?" Professor McGonagall said, waving them to the table. "As I was telling Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick and I believe we have isolated all of the runes. None are new to us, but he has used them in ways we have never seen."

"The good news is," Flitwick added, "all the questions I had about the Mark before are answered. This series of runes accounts for all the things the spells did not."

"And the bad news?" Severus asked with little inflection.

"We can see no way to remove the runes without killing the subject," McGonagall said sadly. Nausea swept over Harry, and he stumbled into a chair. Severus was expressionless, but he knew the man would be mourning the same loss of hope he was.

"No," Harry said. "That can't be right. There has to be a way."

"I'm sorry, Harry. This part of the rune pattern we understand all too well. It's the same magic that Gringotts uses to secure dangerous artifacts. Any attempts to remove the runes would be disastrous."

"I had suspected as much," Severus said, still masking his feelings. "Thank you all for your effort. Perhaps Albus can find some use for this information still." He gave Harry an unreadable expression, his eyes dull, and Harry felt his insides wrench. Making noises of agreement, Flitwick and McGonagall gathered up the parchments.

"I'll stay here," Harry said, a half-formed thought passing through his head. "I don't really feel like going up there now," he said in response to Severus's questioning gaze. With a nod, Severus left, followed by the other faculty members.

"Oh, Harry-" Hermione started, but Harry interrupted her.

"Voldemort could remove it," he said. "I mean, we don't know for sure, but it wouldn't make any sense for him to not have a way to remove it, right? That's what started this whole idea. That part hasn't changed."

"What are you talking about, Harry? It's not as if we can ask him to just let Professor Snape go. Professor McGonagall is right. These runes are like. . ." She threw up her hands in frustration. "It's like a door with a handle on just one side. Once it's closed, that's it. You can't get in unless you break the door down, and that would kill him."

"Unless you're on the inside," Harry reminded her. "Or had a way to get inside without using the door."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Harry, you can't be serious. Maybe if you could possess him. Like completely possess him, and force him to cast the right spells. But we don't know enough about your scar to know if you can do this without killing Professor Snape. If you were Marked, you might be able to break it yourself, but that's different."

Harry sighed and kicked the table leg. "There has to be something, Hermione. There's an answer in all of this, I know it." They sat in silence for a time before Harry stood. "I'm going to wait in the dungeon. Can you tell Ron about everything?"

He did not bother with any lights, preferring to sit in the darkness, stretched out on Severus's couch and staring up at the ceiling. It was just like with the runes hidden in the Mark. The answer was in front of him, he just could not see it. Not quite. But as the evening slipped away, a few ideas emerged.

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Harry woke with a stiff neck and an unfamiliar heavy blanket spread on top of him. His pillow was too hard, too. Keeping his eyes closed and trying to regulate his breathing to mimic sleep, he tried to take in his bearings.

"Not an entirely poor attempt at subterfuge," Severus's welcome voice reminded him of where he had fallen asleep the night before. "The difficulty, though, is the change in your breathing between when you wake up and when you decide to pretend you are still asleep."

Harry pushed off the blanket and sat up, noticing that his robe and shoes were missing, though he was still wearing the clothes he had underneath. "I guess I'm not paranoid enough yet, then. How did you get my shoes off without waking me?"

Severus set his tea down and displayed his wand. "It may have escaped your attention, what with all the excitement of your celebrity filling the past six years, but I am a wizard."

"Are you always this mean in the morning?" Harry located his glasses and sat at the table next to the Potions Master, batting his eyelashes innocently as he kissed the man's cheek.

"Yes."

Harry stretched and yawned. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. I thought you might like some company last night."

"Albus wanted to inform the Order immediately."

"So there was something useful in all those runes after all?"

"Of course," Severus answered. "If the right spell or spells can be found, we have a new weapon against the Dark Lord. Cast the right dispelling charm, shred the runes, and Mark will do the Aurors' work for them."

"I meant useful for you," Harry said, now concerned about Severus's vulnerability to the same kind of attack.

"There are more important issues at hand, Harry. Give up on this one and focus on what's more important."

"I'm not breaking my promise to you."

"And I told you not to promise me anything, remember?"

"Well, I did anyway," Harry muttered.

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Halfway through Charms, the twelve different thoughts Harry had going through his head all stuck in the same place. The Prophesy and every encounter he had ever had, going back to the night his parents were killed, all came down to his scar. The scar and the bond were what made Harry so unique. Yes, he had power, but so did Dumbledore. It had all started with the bond, and Harry realized that it would end it, too. The only question was how to use the scar without doing as much damage to himself as he did to Voldemort. And if that was not possible, to make sure he did enough damage to take them both out.

At lunch, he quizzed Hermione on the runes that protected the Mark. All of her answers convinced him, as she had hoped, that trying to break Severus's Mark would be fatal. The process, she explained, was simple enough. And unbinding rune set across the proper area would cause a reaction that would send the combined magic of all the runes back into the person bearing the Mark. No chance of survival, and no way to reverse the effect once it was started. That was, after all, the point of those particular runes.

Satisfied, Harry let the matter drop. At the end of the meal, Severus rushed from the Great Hall while McGonagall strode over to their table. She told them that Dumbledore had invited the trio, alone with Neville and Seamus, to visit Dean up in his office. They all agreed, of course, and were soon on their way to the gargoyle.

"Hey mate," Ron called as they all piled in to the cluttered room. To Harry, Dean looked fine; his eyes certainly lit up upon seeing his friends. Harry gave him a cheerful wave, but when their eyes met, Harry saw a flash of red before the boy dropped to the floor, doubled over and clutching his head.

The sound he made was horrible, and Harry knew only Voldemort could cause the kind of pain that elicited such a cry. Harry went to rush forward, but was dragged back as Severus nearly tossed him into a chair and pushed his way to the suffering student. He was carrying a large case with him, and his wand was out as he and Pomfrey, whom Harry had not noticed earlier, began casting spells at Dean.

"I can't find anything physically wrong with him, Severus," Pomfrey said. "And he's got no magical sickness that I can tell.

"It's a curse," Severus said simply. "Where the hell is Albus?"

Harry did not wait to hear her response. Instead, he sought his own answers.

Grey and black shadows moved across the mirror like silhouettes. "Potter was there, but I cannot see him now."

"What about the spell, my Lord?" Wormtail was groveling at his feet again. The putrid thing never stopped groveling.

"I saw paintings of dead Headmasters. They are in his office," he replied, loathe to even think the man's name. "The wards there are too strong to break entirely."

"And if they had been elsewhere?"

"Potter would be dead by now. We will have him, soon, then. First, this tool must die. Another body can be arranged, one that will not be confined to the Headmaster's office." He turned his attention back to the mirror, where dull shapes still crowded around the mirrors center. As they moved, flashes of another, much clearer, figure caused his hatred to boil. Potter. He was clear enough in the mirror, but that did little good if the Apparition wards were still firm. Then, suddenly, flaring white light nearly blinded him, coming from just behind the cursed boy. Pain shot through him, and he screamed, tearing his vision from the glass.

Harry shot up in his seat, panting. Everyone was staring at him. No, not at him, but behind him. Twisting around, he saw Dumbledore, wand out, firmly chanting a string of spells. That explains the white light, he thought. Everyone jumped when Dean started to sit up.

"Bloody hell," he said, his whole body shaking. He looked up to see Snape bending over him. "Sorry, Professor. What happened?"

Severus moved aside, leaving the explaining to Dumbledore as he and Pomfrey started with a new set of spells.

"It appears, Mr. Thomas, that the mysterious magic that had been lingering indeed had a purpose. If I am not mistake, though, the darkness has left you.

Pomfrey and Severus both agreed, and Professor Jones was summoned just to be sure. Once the Defense instructor declared him as free of Dark Magic as she could be sure of, he was carried off to the infirmary. Harry motioned for Severus to remain, though, and he asked for a moment to speak to the Headmaster.

Knowing he was in for a lecture from both Dumbledore and later, Severus, Harry confessed to his piece of spying and described what he had seen. "Whatever you did, sir, that scared off the Dark Lord. But he's going to try again, and he seems to think it'll work outside the office."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "It does make sense now, I am afraid. I have never seen a linking spell so well masked, but clearly that is what was used. When the Dark Lord saw you, Harry, that must have triggered the spell."

"There is more to it, though," Severus said. "Well hidden is one thing. But the power to breach the wards? If the Dark Lord was concerned about Apparition, he must have planned on using the linking spell to send himself, or Death Eaters, into Hogwarts. While plausible in general. . ."

"It should not be possible through the wards, even those outside this office," Dumbledore said. "Unless the spell has an usually strong supply of power. Just enough to cause a moment's breach in the wards at a particular spot."

"The darkest kind of magic," Severus said, his voice hard and cold. Harry looked to him, confused, and he continued. "The spell would have used Thomas's energy to break through the barriers. It would have drained him completely."

"It would have killed him?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer. Severus nodded.

Harry left the two older men to talk and went to join his classmates. Voldemort's hissing stayed in his ears. He would try again. It was just a matter of time.

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The idea that Voldemort was coming for him was not terribly new to Harry, and despite his nerves after lunch, he had returned mostly to his own self by the time Potions class came around. Watching Severus glide about the room, Harry felt himself less and less able to worry about the future. Severus's words from the night before were still with him, giving him a heady feeling.

Before class ended, Severus had quietly asked him to visit his rooms after dinner. Harry probably would have anyway, but his heady feeling grew when Snape had whispered the invitation. "If you can, would you come to the dungeons after dinner?" The question was simple enough, but with Severus, of course, the differences were subtle. "Please see me after dinner," sounded like a polite request, but it heralded a serious discussion, or additional defense lessons. It was used for Order business and planning. "If you can," meant it was about them, and just them, and Harry felt quite strongly that it was not used often enough.

And, deciding that if Severus was not worried overly much about the newest development with Voldemort, then he would not be either, Harry took only his cloak with him as he hurried to the dungeons after dinner.

Severus was waiting for him, of course, as the wall solidified behind him. Hanging the cloak up, he looked fondly at the other man. He looked different than he had at dinner. Had he combed his hair again? Yes, Harry thought he did, but that was not all. His robes were different. They were darker, somehow. And finer.

Dutifully, and hoping to get the subject out of the way quickly, Harry asked, "Did you and the Headmaster talk about anything I need to know?"

"No," Severus said simply. "We discussed strengthening the wards. We cannot duplicate the strength of his office's protections, but you should avoid people who are suddenly overcome by pain. But in truth, there is little to be done aside from what we have been. Your combat training continues, and you will continue to move about the school with the care you have shown so far."

Harry nodded, having come to much the same conclusion. He stepped closer to Severus and reached out to feel his sleeve. "You look good in these. Is this a special occasion?"

Severus replied by closing the distance between them and pulling Harry into a kiss. Sinking into the sensation of his mouth being explored, Harry let himself go, content to simply feel.

As the man's lips moved from his, Harry moaned softly, tilting his head and exposing his neck. Severus had never been so aggressive, taken such liberties. Always, Harry had begun such explorations, though Severus was never long to follow.

With a wave of his hand, Severus dimmed the lights in the room, leaving them illuminated only by the glow coming from the bedroom. Harry turned to gaze at the bed surrounded by floating candles. Strong arms slid down his arms from behind, then crossed his mid section and slowly made their way back up. With a gasp, Harry felt them slip inside his shirt, and rough, gentle hands caressed his abdomen.

Severus's low voice sent a shiver down his spine as he felt the man's breath on his neck. "I was given the impression last night that while you are not quite ready to take the lead. . ." He trailed off, leaving Harry trembling at the possibilities left unsaid. The hands on his stilled, lifted so they were barely touching his skin. "If I was wrong. . ." The promise there, unsaid, that Severus was loathe to hurt him, was more of an aphrodisiac than the nimble fingers that had so recently been teasing him.

Harry shook his head. "No," he answered, leaning his head back until his came into contact with Severus's shoulder. "Not wrong." Then he could not speak. His earlobe was sucked between warm lips while Severus's left hand inched up his torso.

Then the other hand started moving.