- Rating:
- 15
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Characters:
- Harry Potter Sirius Black Severus Snape
- Genres:
- Alternate Universe Mystery
- Era:
- The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
- Spoilers:
- Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36)
- Stats:
-
Published: 06/10/2008Updated: 04/06/2009Words: 80,060Chapters: 25Hits: 25,910
Crucio
NotEvenHere
- Story Summary:
- When Umbridge subjects Harry to the Cruciatus, Snape intervenes, veering not only his own life off its intended course, but Harry’s and Sirius’ as well, spawning tragedy and devastation in its wake. First story in the Unforgiveables trilogy. In response to the OOTP: Crucio Challenge by royalnavigator on Potions and Snitches. Rated for violence and character deaths.
Chapter 19 - Over the Falls
- Posted:
- 12/06/2008
- Hits:
- 743
Chapter 19: Over the Falls
Sirius blinked rapidly as he tried to clear his mind.
Harry was gone.
"Traitorous filth..." Kreacher continued to glare balefully as he trudged toward the stairs.
"Harry?" Sirius called, not caring that his voice wobbled with fear. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He swayed a bit, just as he had when he'd woken earlier, to find Harry had left. Only now, Sirius knew Harry hadn't gone back to his room. He didn't understand how it had happened, but Harry had gone to a place without him--to a place that existed only with Snape.
He hadn't even understood the significance of Snape's and Harry's words--not until Harry had mentioned the Bruise Salve, and Sirius had seen the way Snape was trying not to look at Harry.
But even though Sirius had watched Harry disappear, the truth wouldn't register.
Raising his wand quickly, and telling himself pointlessly not to panic, Sirius commanded, "Point Me, Harry Potter."
The wand moved in that same, disjointed manner it had when he'd commanded Harry's wand to find Snape, days before. Sirius swallowed painfully as he slowly lowered his wand arm.
Harry would come back. He had to.
Feeling uncharacteristically cold, Sirius chafed at his bare arms as he stared helplessly around the room. Knowing that none of this was possible didn't help at all. Harry had vanished right in front of his eyes. And he and Kreacher were still here.
Waiting.
Not until Sirius' muscles were beginning to grow restless from their forced inactivity, did he realize that if--no, when Harry returned, it would most likely be upstairs. Sirius' throat ached as he realized that Harry must have chosen to sleep in his, Sirius', room when he was in Snape's world. Because he thought I was dead... Sirius shook himself out of his rapidly spiraling mood, and turned toward the stairs. A movement out of the corner of his eye had him turning around again.
"Harry..."
The word caught in his throat as he stumbled toward the settee where, against all reality, Harry was curled on his side, where moments ago, the settee had been empty. Sirius dropped down to his knees, reaching out to shake Harry awake. But Harry was already opening his eyes; he blinked up at Sirius, confusion muting the bright green of his irises.
"Sirius?"
Sirius gripped Harry's shoulder, testing to be sure his godson was really there.
Solid.
Sirius let out a rush of air as relief surged through him. Not caring that Harry was sixteen and probably didn't want to be mauled by him, Sirius knitted his fingers into Harry's shirt and pulled his godson roughly toward him. But instead of resisting the awkward embrace, Harry let himself be pulled, and then he all but sagged against Sirius, his forehead heavy against Sirius' shoulder.
"I thought I was losing my mind," Harry muttered.
"You're not," Sirius assured him. "Not unless I am as well." Of course, Sirius thought wearily, I might very well be.
"I wasn't sure I'd be able to see you-"
Sirius pressed his fingertips briefly into Harry's hair before moving him back a little so that he could see his face. The purpled patch of bruised skin stood out starkly against Harry's pale cheek. Sirius brushed one of his thumbs lightly over the large splotch. "Snape did this."
Even if Snape was supposed to be dead...
Sirius' thumb curled over into a fist as Harry nodded slightly. No, Snape wasn't dead. Snape had hit Harry.
"Why?" Sirius asked through tightly clenched teeth. Harry caught his wrist, and it was only then that Sirius realized his hand was trembling against Harry's cheek. He took a slow breath and waited for Harry to answer.
"I told him Dumbledore would be disappointed in him," Harry finally said. Sirius closed his eyes, his fury growing.
"He hit you because you-"
Harry's fingers tightened a bit on Sirius' wrist. "I'm all right."
Sirius swallowed back as much of his ire at he could, not liking the anxiety in his godson's voice. Sirius gave his arm a gentle tug, and Harry released his wrist. "Let's get that taken care of," he suggested, trying to make his tone mild. He pointed his wand toward the kitchen and said quietly, "Accio Bruise Salve."
Sirius and Harry watched the jar fly into the room and settle into Sirius' palm. Rising up out of his crouch, and ignoring the residual reminders of his days with Bellatrix that even potions couldn't get rid of, Sirius sat on the edge of the settee. Harry kept himself propped on an elbow; he turned his face so that his bruised cheek was turned toward the ceiling. Sirius scowled at the imprint of Snape's hand.
Sirius used as little pressure as possible as he massaged the salve into Harry's cheek in slow circles. He grimaced when Harry winced as Sirius' fingers skated over his cheekbone. "Sorry... all done."
Sirius leaned back and recapped the jar. The bruise was already beginning to lose some of its dark purple hue. Sirius had to bite back a comment about strangling Snape--the amount of force that would have been used to leave such a hefty bruise...
"Thanks." Harry tucked his legs under his thighs so he could sit upright; he stayed near Sirius, even though most of the settee was empty.
"You're welcome." Sirius set the jar of salve on the little table before he asked, "Why didn't you use Snape's salve--you said he offered you some." As Sirius said the words, he decided that they sounded like the rants of a madman. Only hours ago, Snape had been dead, and now Sirius was sitting here chatting with Harry about how hard Snape had slapped him. Sirius pressed his teeth together and focused on Harry.
Harry shrugged. "It's hard to remember everything clearly... it still feels a bit like a dream, but I remember being really angry--irrational sometimes..."
It didn't really answer Sirius' question, but Sirius didn't press it.
He leaned forward a little. "Does your scar still hurt?"
Harry shook his head. "It stopped hurting as soon as you disappeared."
It had been Harry who had disappeared, but Sirius didn't correct him; his godson looked on the edge of collapse, and trivialities about which one of them had been pulled out of sync with reality could be discussed later.
"Snape gave me a Sleeping Potion," Harry went on, sounding a bit too close to a full-fledged babble for Sirius' comfort, and it occurred to him to wonder how much sleep Harry could actually be getting if he was reality-hopping when he was supposed to be sleeping.
"He wanted me to find out if I could still come over to..." Harry was saying as he gestured helplessly, "...wherever we are... he said it was important that we find out..."
Harry's voice was creeping toward hysteria.
His brow creasing with spiking worry, Sirius took Harry's shoulders again, wanting to guide him to lie down again, but Harry pulled himself away, his green eyes wild.
"No," he said in a strangled voice. "I'm not going back to sleep, Sirius! You'll disappear again, and I'll... I'll... I can't." Harry's chest heaved as though he'd just run a half a kilometer, and only as Sirius searched his godson's face did he noticed the deep shadows pulling under Harry's eyes.
He didn't know how he hadn't noted the obvious signs of sleep deprivation earlier.
"I know," Sirius said quietly, leaning forward again, but this time to squeeze the back of Harry's neck. Harry leaned forward abruptly and covered his face in his hands as he hunched over; Sirius kept his hand still as he listened to Harry's shallow breathing.
"I'm so tired," Harry whispered against his palms. "I'm losing my mind... I know I am."
"Harry," Sirius said gently, moving the pads of his fingers a little to massage the back of Harry's neck, "you're not-"
"The world can't split in two," Harry protested, the near-moan muffled by his hands. "I don't even know what to believe. What if I'm still dreaming? What if I'm still with Snape, and I'm only dreaming this?"
Sirius didn't know how to argue with that. It was difficult to convince someone else of something you didn't quite believe yourself. After a moment of silence, Harry finally looked up, his forearms coming to rest on his knees. He gave his godfather a half-smile.
"You're wondering if you're a dream now, aren't you?"
Sirius shook his head, unable to smile at the attempted humor. He ducked his head enough so that he was holding Harry's gaze. "I can't honestly say I understand anything about what's happening, but I promise you that we'll sort it out, whatever it is."
Harry nodded, though he didn't look any less anxious that he had before. He was staring at Sirius as if he was trying to make his eyes believe what he was seeing.
"You're not dreaming, Harry. And you are not losing your mind," Sirius said firmly. Sirius almost believed it of himself, that time.
Harry swallowed. "I can't go back there."
Sirius' hand came to rest on the back of Harry's head as Harry bowed it; his fingers wove through the dark hair. "I can put a charm on you that will keep him from hitting you again," Sirius said, his voice low with an anger he couldn't still as he pictured Snape hitting Harry. But Harry shook his head slightly.
"I'm not afraid of him," he said quietly, his voice unwavering as he pressed his palms together between his knees. He kept his head low, slanting his eyes toward Sirius. "Maybe it was because I thought you were... dead, but I was so angry, Sirius," Harry said, as though making a terrible admission. His green eyes were haunted as he continued, "I couldn't wait to get a chance to kill Voldemort. I practically begged Snape to help me learn to kill..." Harry trailed off as he looked away; his voice was rough with shame.
Remembering the conversation they'd had about hatred and revenge right after the little shack had exploded, Sirius understood that Harry thought he would be disappointed in his godson's thirst for revenge.
"I know what it's like to want to kill someone so badly," Sirius reminded him, purposely pitching his voice to be light again. Harry nodded jerkily. "We have no idea what splitting yourself between two worlds might have done to you, Harry," Sirius went on, trying to ease Harry's burden of guilt. "Wanting something isn't the same as actually doing it."
"I have to kill him though, Sirius."
Sirius hated the anguish in his godson's voice. "You'll do it because you have no choice, Harry. It isn't the same as revenge. And you won't have to do it alone."
Harry's eyes slid toward him again. "I'll be alone in Snape's timeline."
Sirius leaned forward again, his grey eyes intense. "Take advantage of what he's offering. Not," he clarified, "a lust for blood, but his expertise. Snape knows what he's about when it comes to the Dark Arts. He's been around Voldemort far too much not to."
That brought Harry's head up. "You think I should let him continue on with that? He was trying to make me channel my fear into a... I don't know... a rage deep enough to kill Voldemort without a second thought or something."
Sirius nodded. He didn't doubt that assessment in the least. "Not with that, no," he answered, frowning at the thought of Snape trying to turn his godson into some sort of mindless killing machine. "He can teach you strategies that will surprise the Death Eaters... spells and curses that may give you an edge. Since we have no idea how we'll have to face Voldemort-"
Harry had gone a little pale; Sirius stopped speaking immediately. Feeling like an idiot for prattling on, Sirius grimaced. "I'm sorry," he started to say, but Harry shook his head.
"What if..." Harry's hands fisted together, "... what if we can't fix it? What if I'm with Snape when Voldemort comes for me this time?"
Sirius almost smiled at that. At least, for that question, he had an answer.
--
Harry opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as disorientation washed through him. Snape was staring at him, sitting erect in the chair opposite the settee.
Snape.
Harry bit the inside of his lip to keep from crying out in frustration. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd tried to stay with Sirius as long as he could, but it hadn't worked. He was back with Snape.
And no matter how many times his brain insisted that Sirius wasn't dead--that the snatches of conversation he could remember having with his godfather were real--his chest was heavy with grief.
"We'll find a way to put everything to rights again, Harry," Sirius had promised at one point when Harry had been struggling to keep his eyes open.
And Harry had protested that they didn't know what had caused it in the first place, even as he'd tugged on his eyelids, trying to encourage them to stay open.
What if it couldn't be put to rights? What if he was destined to stray between two worlds that couldn't possibly exist at all?
"It is much like a disease, Potter. We simply need to find the cure."
Harry looked up sharply. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Snape was gazing at him steadily, until his black eyes strayed to Harry's cheek.
"One more dose of Bruise Salve should suffice," was his clinical assessment.
Unconsciously, Harry's fingers went to the patch of skin that had drawn so much of both Snape's and Sirius' attentions.
"It's fine," Harry said dismissively as he sat up straight. It was one thing for Sirius to insist that he take care of the bruise, but Harry wasn't going to let Snape act like he gave a damn.
"Playing the martyr, Potter?" Snape inquired with a noticeable curl to his lip. Hours ago, that statement would have thrown Harry into a fury. When he had needed someone to hate. But after Sirius' insistent that he do whatever he had to do to keep Snape willing to train him, Harry simply shrugged; he wasn't going to let Sirius down.
Keeping Sirius' words in the forefront of his mind, Harry stood up and picked up the jar of salve from the table where Snape had plunked it with such force several hours ago--at least Harry assumed several hours had passed.
Snape's eyes had immediately narrowed as soon as Harry reached for the salve. His eyes were nearly slits as Harry quickly spread a thin layer of salve over his cheek. He ignored Snape as he screwed the lid back into place; he finally turned his attention back to the professor after he'd set the jar back on the table.
"Sirius thinks Voldemort is in his timeline," he announced as he turned back around. Snape's eyebrows lifted, surprised about something, it seemed.
"I came to the same conclusion," he said cooly. Harry nodded, ignoring the temptation to retort that Snape probably wasn't as all-fired smart as he liked to think he was.
"And that's why your Mark burned when the timelines crossed, because Voldemort has a Tracking Charm on you and he finally found you again, when he couldn't sense you at all, not since he blew Dodgy to bits." Harry couldn't resist adding the long explanation, wanting to show Snape that Sirius wasn't an idiot.
But Snape raised a disdainful eyebrow anyway, apparently finding it easy to believe that Sirius was an idiot. "That deduction is hardly a feat of intelligence," he said, his words dripping with contempt.
Harry bristled, his fingers curling into fists at his side. But instead of snapping at the professor, Harry forced himself to smile, though it probably looked more like he was baring his teeth. He felt like baring his teeth.
"What else did the two of you manage to deduce?" Snape inquired caustically.
"Do you have to be such a git?" Harry demanded, his resolve to keep his irritation in check, failing spectacularly as he glared at Snape. Snape smiled thinly.
"Apparently."
Harry had no idea what Snape meant by that, but he didn't have time to ponder it. Snape gestured with a flick of his wrist to Harry's wand, which was poking out of his front pocket.
"We have many questions to answer. I will need your wand," he said in a dark voice. Harry stared at him. "Now, Potter," Snape ordered impatiently.
"Why?" Harry demanded.
"I will enter your mind. Since you seem to be at the apex of this little shift in reality, it would be prudent for me to explore every possible angle-"
"Are you mad?" Harry's voice rose with his incredulity. "The last time you went into my head, you almost killed me!"
Snape lowered his eyebrows; it made him look a great deal more menacing that Harry had seen him look in a long time. "You nearly killed yourself, Potter, with your ludicrous insistence that I was there with malignant intentions."
"Ludicrous?!" Harry shot back. "You were holding me hostage, threatening to hex me at every turn. And you bloody well enjoyed every minute of it. You hit me for God's sake!"
Snape's shoulders drew back a little, and his eyes suddenly grew shadowed. "Do you wish to fix this problem, or not?" he asked stiffly, not quite making eye contact with Harry now.
Of course I do, you great stupid arse, Harry wanted to shout at him. He wanted to rail at Snape--to tell him that he just wanted this whole mess to be over, so he could get Sirius back for good, but what would be the point? Snape would be unmoved. He would sneer at him to get a hold of himself.
So Harry nodded curtly, and tried not to glare as he handed over his wand. Snape said nothing as he set Harry's wand beside him; his eyes were fully averted now, but that was fine with Harry. Until the silence stretched onward.
"Well?" Harry finally asked pointedly.
"You will need to move closer," Snape finally said, sounding suddenly exasperated that Harry hadn't figured out as much for himself. And even Harry couldn't fault him for that. It wasn't as if Snape was recovered from being almost burned to death, after all; of course he should stay seated.
His cheeks prickling with embarrassment, Harry stood up and walked stiffly over to Snape.
"Sit," Snape ordered curtly.
Harry clenched his molars together and did as he was told, settling cross-legged in front of Snape. He felt the tip of Snape's wand against his temple; he almost flinched out of reach, the reaction out of his control, but Snape's crushing grip on his shoulder stopped him.
"Legilime-," Snape hissed, and Harry began to scream.