Dungeon

Chapter 5 - Beneath the Surface

Severus Snape was not a procrastinator by nature. He loathed it in others and avoided it diligently in his own doings. But he had to finally admit that he was procrastinating. The Dark Lord was not pleased with him over this. To force himself to take action, Snape set in motion certain events that would wind to the necessary conclusion at a prescripted moment, leaving him no choice but to prepare for them.

A knock sounded on the door. Potter was actually two minutes early.

Harry came in and sat down in his usual seat. He immediately took out his stack of parchment notes on the books Snape had loaned him and reorganized them quickly.

"Learn anything?" Snape asked with a slightly insulting tone.

"Milliforth seems the closest so far," Harry said, flipping that parchment to the top. At Snape's disgusted look, Harry added, "All I can do is compare experiences, Professor."

"I suppose. I thought Milliforth a bit of a flake." Snape stood up and brought over from his desk the two new books he had today. "We are running out of source material, at which point we will have to decide how to proceed."

Harry nodded and took the heavy tomes and began flipping through them. He took out a parchment and pen from his bag and started transcribing.

"Let me see the other parchments while you are doing that," Snape said. Harry handed them over without pausing in his writing. "I see Ms. Granger is rubbing off on you."

Snape took the parchments back to his desk and perused them. He was fast reaching the point of no return, and he started watching Potter instead. When the boy repeated an odd gesture, grabbing his left arm as though he had a dark mark upon it that burned, Snape stood up and stepped over to him.

"What is that about?" Snape asked quietly, dangerously.

Harry looked up at him and then frowned. He was holding his arm at that very moment and couldn't deny the odd gesture. "Maybe you can help with this," Harry said, and started to roll up his sleeve. Snape stood in stillness until he saw the long irritated scratch on the underside of Harry's arm. "I went to Pomfrey this morning and she put something on it, but it’s really bothering me again."

Snape bent over it, peering closely.

"I don't mean to interrupt the lesson," Harry was saying, "but Parkinson got me with some kind of ring she had on when she and Goyle tried to bully me in the hallway today."

That appeared to mean something to Snape. He stood up and went to a back cabinet. Strange culminations seemed to happen around Potter; Snape wasn't going to deny that this one would be very useful.

"Take off your robe," Snape ordered. He set a few bottles out on his desk as well as a large jar of cotton.

Harry debated a moment whether he should just wait until he could see Pomfrey again, but the scratch really was irritating him and the bottles before him promised relief. He gave up on rolling up the wide cuff of his robe and slipped it off instead. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and held his arm out. Snape wetted a piece of cotton with one of the potions and rubbed it on then watched. He repeated this for each potion he had taken out. The last one bubbled when it hit the puffy welt around the otherwise innocent scratch.

"Where did she get that in a time-release form?" Snape wondered aloud. "She didn't brew it herself, I am certain." He went back and took out a thick syrup and mixed the potion into it. "Did you get scratched anywhere else?"

Harry touched a spot near his collarbone where there was a tear in his shirt.

"Take that off as well," Snape commanded. He went back to his cabinet and took out a kit with different plasters and set that nearby.

Harry pulled his shirt open, he couldn’t quite see that scratch but it was sore from rubbing on his shirt. He sighed and took off his cotton button-down. He watched Snape apply the thickened remedy to the enflamed scratch on his arm. The heat in the wound eased instantly. He turned his head aside as the same was done to his collarbone. With ease his Professor then spelled the plasters to the right size and applied them. Harry ran his finger over the long one on his arm to make certain it adhered tightly. "Thanks," he said in relief as Snape coated and pressed a plaster over the other smaller cut below his shoulder.

"Stand up," Snape then commanded. Harry obeyed and Snape put his hands on his neck, thumbs tucked under his chin.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I am assessing how much poison got into your system. Do you feel unwell at all?"

"No," Harry replied.

Snape pulled out his wand and held it up in front of Harry. He didn't even flinch, just blinked at Snape, completely trusting, which gave Snape a tiny twinge as he tapped Harry on the top of his head and spelled him unconscious.

Cursing himself out loud for his lapse, Snape gathered the fallen form in his arms, alarmed by how light Potter turned out to be, and carried him into his rooms. He placed Harry on his bed and opened the bed drapes a little farther, then pulled the bedcover just up to Harry’s bare midriff. For just a moment, he looked down at Potter's relaxed, sleeping face to assess how unconscious he was; the spell would not last long and the timing had to be perfect.

Snape dashed back into his office and took Harry's robe and shirt from the back of the visitor’s chair. He dropped them strategically on the bedroom floor near the front corner of the bed. With a long stride he was back in his office, leaving the door between the rooms open just the right amount.

Snape resisted counting down.

When rapid footsteps could be heard coming down the hall, Snape opened a drawer of his desk and pretended to be looking for something. The door to the office flew open and Draco Malfoy charged in. "Professor! Goyle just overheard two students, Gryffindors, talking about a--"

"Malfoy, didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?" Snape interupted him in a sneering tone.

Malfoy didn't hear him though. He stared dumbfounded into the next room.

"Do you have a problem, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked with a diamond edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Potter rousing. Timing is everything.

"But, but . . ." Malfoy stuttered.

Harry heard Draco Malfoy's voice and lifted his head. The two of them stared at each other across a wide space, with Harry fast becoming aware of his surroundings. Malfoy looked like he had just eaten a bitter snarkmelon. Harry's face went completely dismayed, and he let his head fall back with a groan. The fact that it landed on a pillow made his spine stiffen. The door between them closed with a thud, and Harry heard low voices in the other room speaking in harsh tones.

The bed felt like it was swallowing Harry. That was Snape's office, Harry thought, so this must be . . . Yes, that did indeed seem to verify Harry's worst fears. After a minute, the door opened again. Harry dared to look up as Snape stepped in.

"Is Malfoy gone?" Harry asked. It was all he could think of to say. His brain wasn’t being very useful at the moment.

"Indeed, he has done his part," Snape stated calmly.

Harry ran his fingers over his head and tugged on his own hair, hard. He started to sit up.

"Stay there a moment," Snape said. "I am not finished with you."

Help, Harry thought. He stayed propped up on his elbows and watched his professor. Snape spelled the outer door closed, then the inner one. Harry's heart began thumping loudly as though it might explode any moment.

"I am not going to harm you, Potter. I promise," Snape said, without any of his usual snarkiness. He put his wand away in his inside pocket and stood at the foot of the bed.

One part of Harry calmed at that, but others just made up the difference. "You want Malfoy to think something is going on?" Harry asked, trying to piece this together.

"I am counting on it," Snape stated.

"What if he gossips it around?" Harry asked fearfully. Harry felt he’d have to leave school if that happened, at the very least.

"I am counting on a little of that, but do not concern yourself too much. You probably noticed how angry he was. He has never hidden his desire to be in your precise position, so pride will hold him back to quite a degree."

Harry gave him a disbelieving expression; he felt a little ill.

"That is how Malfoys work,” Snape went on. “They are predators, through and through. It started his first year. I am almost certain Lucius put him up to it to start him young on currying favor."

Harry took a breath, too aware now of his bare skin. "So what position am I in, sir?"

"In the middle, Potter, I am afraid."

Harry wished his heart would slow down so he could think straight.

Snape continued levelly, "The Dark Lord has a plan now to corrupt you, and he has made it my task to do so. Malfoy's task, although he doesn’t know it, is to back up my claims that I am working diligently at it."

Harry fell back on the pillow. Insanely, it made him want to sleep, maybe to more easily pretend this was a bad dream.

Snape stepped around to the side of the bed, saying in a factual and oddly soothing voice, "Since I have at my disposal any number of coercive potions, I cannot claim failure, and I have hesitated too long already. I have been claiming that Dumbledore is watching you too closely since the last incident.

"Are you following this, Potter?" He was now leaning directly over Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered. "Your bed is too comfortable," he explained.

Snape scratched his forehead and sat on the edge of the bed. As the bed tilted, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He raised himself up on one elbow, a knee tucked under him in preparation for flight.

At this proximity Snape could clearly see that Potter's heart rate and respiration were very high. "Try to stay calm, Potter. I will not harm you."

"You keep saying that," Harry pointed out.

"You persist in not believing it."

Harry swallowed hard and looked at his professor. He returned Harry's look evenly, calmly. "You handed Ms. Granger over to me. All I am asking is that you now hand yourself over to me."

Harry closed his eyes as he breathed, "That’s a low one.”

"In case you haven't noticed, I rarely play fairly."

"What if Dumbledore finds out?"

Snape hesitated. "I hesitate to inform you, Potter, but . . ."

"He already knows," Harry finished for him. He covered his glasses with his hand as though the world had suddenly gotten too bright. "He was behaving a little oddly, asking me how lessons were going. Ugh."

"There are larger things at stake, as usual," Snape pointed out.

Harry rubbed his eyes hard.

"Potter, you were strapped to a tombstone while your blood was drawn for a spell to recreate the Dark Lord as whole, and you are worried about what I can do in three minutes that the headmaster will see during your next lesson."

"Three minutes?"

"I have to send imagery to him to prove I am doing his bidding. He trusts me less than Death Eaters like Lestrange because I do not open up to him as they do. For obvious reasons."

"So Voldemort gets to see my defeat," Harry griped.

"Potter, if I wanted to defeat you, it would be over already," Snape stated impatiently. "And I really wish you would not use that name. Around me, at least. Under these circumstances, certainly."

Harry cringed but asked, "What would I have to do?"

"Lie still. And most importantly, once I say 'now,' do not back down. It would go very badly indeed."

Frustration wrinkled Harry's face.

"Believe me, Potter, if I had come up with an alternative, we wouldn't be here."

"I do believe that, having seen firsthand how much you hate my guts." Harry rubbed his eyes again, wishing he were anywhere else on the planet. He exhaled loudly as he considered things. He had handed Hermione over. He recalled that moment in the forest again when he trusted that there was only one way it could all work out so they could all keep fighting.

"All right," Harry breathed out harshly and lay down again. He stared at the canopy above him. The drapes were a dark emerald velvet. He would almost certainly cringe every time he saw that color and texture after this. His heart, which had calmed, was now beating so fast that it didn't seem to be working properly anymore. His vision swam a little and, when Snape lifted his glasses off, he was certain his heart stuttered dangerously in his chest.

Snape said, "Try to calm down a little. You should not seem quite so terrorized." He sounded calm and factual, which confused Harry, who gave him a pained expression. "Close your eyes if you have to," Snape suggested levelly.

Harry did so. "Can I keep them closed?" he asked, holding them tightly closed.

"Probably." Snape reached out and grazed Harry's eyebrow, making him jump. "Let's try that again," Snape said quietly. His voice had lost all of its nastiness and sounded almost silken. The transition was startling. Snape touched his eyebrow again and, this time, Harry lay still.

Snape said, "I wish to get this over with as much, if not more, than you--so are you ready?"

Harry's stomach flipped over twice, but he nodded against the pillow.

"No going back, remember," Snape whispered. "Now."

Harry lay still and rigid with his eyes closed, feeling like the cameras of live Muggle television had just turned on him. For a long moment, nothing moved. One part of Harry wanted to open his eyes, but other parts screamed at him to hide here in his enforced darkness. He felt Snape shift over him and the Potions master's touch his chest, stroking gently down his side. Harry gasped, then immediately cut himself off. It was an odd noise Harry'd made, almost sexual, which only alarmed him more. He took a deep breath and remained silent this time as the touch repeated.

Snape shifted again and his robe fell over Harry as he leaned down next to his neck. At this Harry dared open his eyes, since it presumably couldn't be seen. Snape's stringy hair was in his face and his breath felt like fire against his throat. Both of Snape’s hands were on him now, making Harry gasp again. Snape's touch was almost maddeningly light, which set off a cascade of confusion in him.

Snape sat up suddenly and Harry realized too late that he still had his eyes open. Snape gave him a look that carried too many meanings. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and patted it. "It is all right now." The Potions master stood up and Harry went through some kind of post-stress panic. He rolled onto his side and curled up.

"You are not planning to sleep there?" Snape asked in disbelief.

"I need a moment," Harry said. Indeed, he was desperate to clear his mind in case Voldemort came trolling for the other side of that experience.

"Suit yourself," Snape said and went into his office.

Five minutes later, Harry decided that crashing in his own bed was the only sane thing to do. He grabbed his glasses from the side table, sat up, and retrieved his clothes from the floor. He put on his shirt and buttoned it quickly. Snape glanced over at him a moment. "How did my stuff get here?" Harry asked.

"Just setting the stage for Mr. Malfoy. It is fortunate that you are not dating anyone. I would be compelled to make their life extra miserable, just for the show of it."

Harry shook his head as he shrugged into his robe. "How I ever imagined I wasn't a pawn is beyond me," he said angrily.

Snape stepped back into the room and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "Are you all right, Harry?" he asked.

Harry's eyes snapped up at him upon hearing his first name. "Yeah," he said. "Fine." He stood up and straightened his robe. "Am I dismissed?" he asked in a tone that said he better be.

"Of course."

On his way through the office, Harry picked up his parchments and the two new books and stuffed them in his rucksack. He headed for the door, then stopped before charging through it. "Is the charm removed?"

"Yes."

Harry still hesitated. "There are going to be Slytherins in the corridor," Harry commented.

"Undoubtedly."

Harry fought the urge to scream, now understanding how Hermione did so well with the howler. He reached for the door handle and didn't look back. Only a few eyes followed him down the corridor in shock; most simply ignored him. Harry breathed easier as he reached the upper floors.

In the Gryffindor common room, everyone was still playing, basically in the same positions as when he'd left. "Hey, Harry," Ron said. He and Hermione were playing a dice game where your opponents tried to affect the outcome of the roll with various spells, often improving the roll unintentionally.

"Hey," Harry replied. The reality of the room and the students wiped most of the last half hour out of Harry's immediate thoughts. He settled in with them and they started a new game tso they could include him.

###############

Harry was walking away from breakfast the next morning when Professor McGonagall called him over. Harry's heart started thumping hard as he considered that rumors may already have reached her. "Just Potter," she said to Ron and Hermione as they followed him. Harry's heart rate sped up even more. She directed him to her office and gestured for him to enter.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore standing in the middle of the office, and relief swept through him.

"Leave us, Minerva," Dumbledore intoned as McGonagall moved to close the door behind her. She shrugged, went back out and closed the door behind her.

Dumbledore took a seat in the visitor's chair after first turning it around. He looked up at Harry. "How are you?" he asked gently.

"Okay," Harry replied.

"Just 'okay’?"

Harry relented. "A little stunned."

Dumbledore studied him closely. "Professor Snape did not want me to warn you, although I had strong reservations about that. Mostly because he was the one who would suffer the most if his deception failed, I let him do things his way." He paused to look at Harry again. "I just want to know if that was justified."

Harry took a deep breath, his mind reviewing the events of yesterday evening with some annoyance, since he would rather have let them lie. "I didn't like what happened, sir, but. . . there didn't seem to be any other way."

Dumbledore went on. "I spent a great deal of time considering alternatives. I would not allow him to potion you into submission; that seemed like the worst we could do to you. I also instructed him, if you resisted firmly to let it go and we would deal with the consequences. But the consequences did appear severe, enough so to see if you would cooperate.

“I am sorry for this, Harry. We keep insisting that you trust us without necessarily giving you good reason to."

Harry relaxed. "It’s okay, sir. I’m willing to do my part."

Dumbledore frowned. "And on that topic, I insisted that it be me who asked you to continue the charade for a little longer."

Harry's face fell as his eyes went wide. He looked away from Dumbledore and stared out the window. He whinged severely as his entire being rebelled at that notion.

"I have to confess, Harry, that we do not know the eventual intent of this. And that does worry me."

"Worries you in which direction?" Harry asked.

"Both. I cannot see how this course leads Voldemort to any advantage. If this were last year I could see an intent to discredit you. But now, you are no longer a lone voice and we have gone out of our way to avoid making you a figurehead. I cannot see a plot to discredit you as being worth the time."

Dumbledore waited while Harry thought. "Harry?" he finally prompted.

Harry thought about Hermione and Crabbe. "All right, sir."

"You amaze me, my dear boy," Dumbledore said and stood up. He patted Harry on the shoulder and invited him to exit with a sweep of his hand.

##############

Harry dreaded Potions the following day, so much so that he couldn't eat breakfast.

"Not feeling well, Harry?" Ron asked. Inability to eat was Ron's idea of a tragedy.

"I'm a little churny in the stomach," Harry admitted and pushed his plate away.

He and Hermione made the long walk down to the dungeons. Harry tried desperately to control the flush that kept filling his face. He kept his head down as the lecture started until his cheeks felt like a normal temperature. With a bolstering of a little anger, Harry raised his eyes to Snape and waited for the other to look his way. He didn't have to wait long; Snape's eyes locked onto his for a moment, then slid on to another target smoothly.

Harry saw Hermione taking note of what was said, so he hurried to recall what it was and write it down also. The real trouble started when Harry went up to get supplies. Draco stepped over to him and gave him a hard shove backward into the stool of a Ravenclaw. Harry regained his feet and stopped himself from launching at Malfoy's hateful face. The other students stopped in place and stared at the two of them. Malfoy's eye twitched a few times, then he looked up as Snape stepped over.

"Potter, how can you play Quidditch if you are that clumsy?" the teacher asked with a sneer.

Malfoy's gaze went wild at that. He clearly expected something different.

Harry gave his professor a look and said, "It involves flying, sir, not walking. In case you hadn't noticed."

"It is my understanding that you are currently working your way through a multi-week detention with your Head of House already. If you had parents to call, Potter, I would be doing that after class."

Harry hunched over in shear fury at that but brought it to bear before it exploded out of him.

"That's better," Snape said. He turned to his student. "Mr. Malfoy, to avoid your getting stepped on by Mr. Potter in the future, perhaps you should wait to get your supplies until he is back at his table."

Malfoy's wild look didn't ebb. He backed off carefully, as though from a dangerous wild animal, and stood beside his bench to wait.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he reached Hermione and his shared table. "He is so unfair," Hermione said quietly as they set things out in a useful order around them.

"Life is unfair, Hermione."