In the Midst of the Night

In the Midst of the Night

Chapter 10 - The Schizophrenic Sorcerer

It was one thing to be forgiven, but what to do afterwards was a whole different story. Sirius was sprawled precariously on the couch, fiddling somewhat awkwardly with the hem of his worn grey shirt that, to Remus, seemed to have been white at some point in time.

The werewolf himself was looking around the room - everywhere except at his friend. Later, he finally stood up, finding something to say. "Would you like a drink? Hot cocoa? Coffee? Tea?"

Sirius found himself grinning. "Cocoaif it's no trouble," he said civilly.

Remus eyed him with hazel eyes that twinkled with amusement. "If it's no trouble?" he repeated with a small smile. "I don't think I've heard those words from you in...well, never." The other man laughed a laugh that was small and clumsy from disuse.

But in that late evening, their recollections of memories from the past would soon make Sirius' infamous Marauder grin and laugh a regular sight.

~*~

Severus stretched and looked down tiredly at the vials stocked in order. The potion was complete and it hadn't seemed to take quite as long a time as before. He looked over at the boy he had been teaching to read only a moment before to find the child curled up like a kitten in the corner. With a roll of his eyes heavenwards, he walked over and knelt down, shaking the Potter child's shoulder. Harry made a small sound in his throat and shrunk away from the professor's hand. "Potter," snapped Severus, "wake up. I'm tired as well and would appreciate it if you wouldn't waste more time napping here."

Harry blinked his eyes open and rubbed them as if trying to wipe away the fatigue from his person. His gaze traveled to Severus who was looking down at him with the same callous expression that the boy soon learned was not really a reflection of a mean manner, but rather an inadvertent one born from a rough past. He nodded, not really understanding the man's words, but reading the tone bellying every syllable spoken; Harry pretty much understood the gist of it.

Slowly, he stood up and yawned a yawn that seemed to big for his little body. Severus led the way out and Harry sluggishly jogged to catch up, slipping his hand into the warmer and bigger one of the potions master. The elder man didn't even glance down as he himself tried to smother a yawn behind his other hand. He prodded Harry towards the designated room christened Harry's own and hefted the child onto it. The boy was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

...

It was approximately an hour past dawn when an unexpected knock sounded upon Severus' door. He muffled a groan of dismay and swung his legs over the side. After pulling on a robe over his night clothes, he swung open the door and scowled at Baruch who, despite the early hour, seemed just the same as if it were mid afternoon. However, a slight nipping breeze scratched at Severus as he looked at his friend.

"Master Lucius Malfoy is here with young Master Draco, sir," said the elf, his eyes glowing a dark ruby color.

Severus eyed the butler a moment before saying, "Thank you, Baruch. You needn't come down with me. I can speak with them myself."

There was an apparent change in the elf's demeanor and the professor noticed with a vague sense of relief that Baruch's eyes swirled and changed to a dark azure blue. The butler nodded and bowed his way from the doorway and disappeared without even a 'pop'. Severus descended the steps and went into the living room to find Draco nodding off to sleep on the couch and Lucius gazing calmly into the fire, his stance calm and commanding.

"I'm sure you got the notice?" said the blonde haired man, though it was more of a statement rather than an inquiry.

"Indeed."

"Mm, well then you know that I must prepare. You won't mind Draco staying here for the remainder of the week?"

Severus damned the elder man's tone to hell and back again before saying, "Of course not."

With that, their conversation came to an abrupt end and Lucius made his way to the fireplace. "In three days time, Severus," said the man with a sparkle of something sinister in his light blue gaze. The potions master nodded curtly, and then Lucius was gone in a swirl of sapphire and emerald flames.

Then, Severus found himself once more prodding a seven year old child into a room and off to bed.

~*~

Jonas kept his face hidden within the shadowy depths of his large hood as he ambled down the lonely street that midnight. It was an odd hour for a man to be walking on the streets of this particular village, for it was built upon a magical node. Here, once set in motion, the magic swelled and erupted and that was exactly what he was counting on.

Soon, he reached the alley in which he conducted experiments customers paid for. This particular setting was guarded by shadows that obeyed only his command. He smiled, his face changing into one once owned by a man who was at one time not only a handsome youth, but a caring one. His eyes became bright with life at an accomplishment, a project that had grown within him, and he felt the rare feeling of content well inside his chest. With one single recollection, however, the smile vanished as if it had never been present.

With a feeling of the familiar hatred welling within his chest, he cupped his hands together and watched as a slight orb of green light formed. He didn't notice another man watching him from behind until the newcomer constructed a cauldron over a fire. Jonas cut off the connection of the sphere of light from his person and dumped it into the boiling potion before him. He glanced at the other man with an air of unease until light emitted from the cauldron. The strange light grew brighter and brighter before the glow was snuffed out all together. Jonas picked up the seemingly hollow crystal that lay within the cauldron and with a mere tap with his wand, clouds of every color imaginable appeared inside it. And image began to form and he handed it over.

"Ah," said the newcomer, "it's much clearer than yesterday."

Jonas rubbed his eyes, feeling the hatred wash away, leaving him exhausted and strangely empty. And, though he should have been happy, he felt that part of him was missing. He hated that half of himself with a passion, but found that he couldn't live without it. It was, he supposed, the factor in his life that kept him alive, but that didn't mean he couldn't hate it. He looked at the empty cauldron, wishing fervently for all the grief to leave him be for once. "Yes, Evan, I suppose so," said the man, and then he turned and slowly left the alley, dreading the day he had bumped into Harry Potter in that damned tavern.

~*~

Draco rubbed his eyes and jumped off the bed to push the curtains open. The sun streamed in and he got dressed before he made to leave his room. When he stepped out, however, he was knocked into and fell sprawled ungracefully upon the ground. He scowled over at his assailant saying, "You should watch where you're going!"

Harry blinked owlishly at the familiar face of the pale boy before him. He slowly got up and held out a hand to help Draco up. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

The other boy sighed dramatically and took the proffered hand, and then he proceeded to brush away imaginary dust as he had seen his father once do. "I suppose it's all right," he told the other boy. After a moment, he looked up quickly again and peered at the boy before him. "Oh! I know you! You're the boy who was with the P'fessor in Diagon Alley! Ha...Harry right?"

With a hesitant smile, Harry nodded. "And you're Draco Malfoy," he replied in a soft voice, glancing at the taller child with a smile that seemed awkward upon his face.

"Well, I s'pose it'll be nice to have another boy here. The P'fessor gets tired real easy," Draco told Harry conversationally. "Do you like Quidditch? My father got me a new broom and it goes wicked fast! Let me go get it!" Leaving the other boy alone in the hallway for less than a minute, he dashed into his room to fetch the mentioned object. When he came back out again, he was to greet shining green eyes fixated upon the broom with a sparkle twinkling within their depths. "You ever ride a broom afore?" questioned Draco, leading the way down the hall.

Harry smiled. "I did with Severus when we came here." He paused. "Is that really yours? You can ride it whenever you'd like?"

Draco nodded proudly. "Yup! My father gave it to me not just a few days ago. Come, you can have a go at it outside!" They jogged down the corridor and the blonde boy said, "We just gots to tell the P'fessor what we're going to do first. D'you know where he's at?"

The other boy thought for a moment, concentrating on keeping up with Draco. "Er - prolly not in his room...maybe he's having breakfast?"

The Malfoy heir nodded. "Yes, I was thinking that," said he with an air of aloofness, when in fact he had not.

The duo came barreling into the dining room where Baruch was conversing with Severus in hushed tones. Upon their entrance, however, the elf straightened and left without a sound, disappearing in a trifle. The potions master turned to look at his charges with raised brows as they panted, their hands on their knees as they tried to quickly regain their breaths. "Good morning, I'm glad that you've quickly reacquainted yourselves," he said, spooning some oatmeal into his bowl.

Draco told him, "I'm going to show Harry my broom outside on the pitch. Can he borrow one of yours from the shed? And can we get some of the balls?" Severus pretended to think this over and the boy couldn't help the puppy dog expression he used with his father from playing across his face. "We won't mess nothing up! Promise! I'll teach 'im real good how to play Quidditch!" When the elder man still said nothing, he went on. "Please, P'fessor? You get tired lots anyway - Harry can play with me! Asides! You owe me a real snitch."

"Oh, do I indeed?" Draco's puppy dog face got even more pathetic and a small grin escaped Severus lips. "Put away that pleading look, Draco. It doesn't become you," he told the boy. Turning to Harry he said, "Be careful - you've never ridden a broom by yourself before. Pay attention to what Draco says." The smaller boy nodded in excitement looking a bit overwhelmed at such freedom. The professor waved his hand in a dismissive motion. "Scat and leave me to my breakfast."

The boys dashed out, and Severus sighed, going back to his meal. It was then that a lone figure came running back. "Um - Severus?" said Harry a bit timidly, a tiny smile on his youthful face. "Can you teach me to read more? A bit later? Maybe?"

The man just couldn't say no to such an innocent child asking such an innocent question like that. Thus, he found himself saying, "Of course," and calling Potter's boy, "Harry," before the child muttered a stream of 'thank you's and other gratifications on his way out the door once again.

The potions master sighed again and found himself wanting to hear the children's voices nearby once more.

But only a bit, he thought to himself.

~*~

Outside, the day was perfect for Quidditch, and Draco had the desire to take advantage of it. "This way, Harry," he said to the smaller boy, taking charge. "We'll get the balls first." When Draco opened the door, he pulled out a chest, beckoning to Harry to help him pull it out of the shed. That done, he told him to go get a nice broom.

Harry did so without complaint, eager to get on with learning about what he assumed was some game played on these brooms he now liked so much. Draco pulled out a red ball that was approximately the same size as a muggle football and tossed it to Harry. "That'll be a quaffle. "And here's the snitch, but we can't use it 'cause I lost the last one," Draco told him. "We can ask later though. The P'fessor prolly will let us use it if we promise not to lose it this time." He held a small golden ball in his small fist and Harry could almost make out fluttering golden wings.

"Is this a 'magic' game?" wondered the child.

Draco glanced up, a frown marring his otherwise perfect youthful features. "A course it is!" He paused, looking thoughtfully at Harry. "You a mudblood?" he asked, a dreading tone bellying his words.

The other boy looked bewildered. "What's that?"

"Well...it's bad. They're bad people. They're dirty"

"Oh." Harry chewed on his lip, looking down at himself and not meeting the other child's eyes.

"Yes, an' my father says that I should never 'ssociate wif 'em," said Draco, the awkwardness of the situation making his speech clumsy. He scuffed a foot across the grass, his hand still fisted around the snitch. "Mm...but I don't think you're one of them. You're of a good sort I s'pose." He stashed the snitch and pulled a bat from the chest. "Here, come over here. You hold onto this bat and make sure this ball doesn't hit us, 'kay?"

Harry looked at it with a hesitant expression. "Sure."

Draco unleashed a bludger and watched in admiration as it soared into the air. When it came back, Harry, surprised and alarmed, jumped out of the way. The bludger bounced and Draco shouted as it came soaring back towards them, "Hit it away with the bat!"

Harry did so and it flew a small way off. The blonde picked up the other bat and hit it the second time it came around, this time lightly so that he could catch it upon its return. That done, he hauled it towards the chest, Harry helping by holding the straps ready. With effort, the boys trapped it once more in its case. "I'm not sure I like those," panted Harry, staring at the protesting ball that shook the crate.

The other boy just grinned in apparent amusement. "Yeah, well, you just have to get used to 'em I s'pose." He walked back into the shed and pulled a broom from the rack. After handing it to his new friend, he picked up the red quaffle and proceeded to walk towards the middle of the Quidditch pitch. He beckoned to Harry and handed the boy his broom. "Well...I s'pose we'll do it how my father teached it to me...maybe a little dif'rent..." Harry looked at the broom in his hand with mounting excitement and paid eager attention to his new found friend. "All right, you mount it like this," said Draco, demonstrating as he spoke. "And it's easy really. You just - you use your hand to move it where you want to go. Up to go up, left to go left...you un'erstand? Good, now you try."

Harry, in his excitement, pulled the tip of the broom enthusiastically and, obeying his inadvertent wish, he soared upwards with an alarmed cry. Draco watched him soar upwards with wide, surprised eyes. He was rooted to his spot in terror and didn't seem to know what to do. "Stop pulling it up, Harry!" he yelled, a sense of panic making his stomach churn as a slight pain surfaced in his ears.

He's going too high...thought Draco. He's going to fall off...

The smaller boy was yelling in fright and when he heard Draco's yell, he quickly stopped pulling upwards and went zooming forward instead. He seemed stuck in the position he was in, half leaning forward, half leaning sideways as if he were about to fall off the broom. Then he saw a streak of black soar past him. A hand reached to grip his broom, but missed. Harry's broom jerked suddenly and he found his sweaty grasp sliding along the smooth handle of the broom. He felt the twigs of the brooms' end at his bum and barely had the time to cry out in panic before he was holding onto nothing but air.

As he fell, he saw things whooshing by at an alarming rate, but couldn't seem to think coherent past anything along the lines of, I'm falling...

The breath was knocked from his lungs when and arm stopped his fall abruptly. He was grasped against a broad chest as he gasped, his lungs protesting in agony at the sudden cease of motion. "Hold on tightly," snapped a voice that Harry hadn't expected. It wasn't Draco, but Severus who had saved him from the inevitable death that had seemed so close. He struggled to settle onto the broom before the potions master and held on tightly until his knuckles turned white with the pressure. The arm around his chest was tight, but he didn't protest for it was a small comfort after such a horrid ordeal.

Severus brought them safely to the ground handed the broom back to Draco who took it mutely. Harry sat down with a dull 'thud', his eyes still wide after he got off the broom. A sob seemed stuck in his throat and tears were prickling painfully behind his eyes as he looked at a horror-stricken Draco and a livid Professor Snape.

Draco seemed to snap out of his daze when Harry sniffed and averted his gaze. "Why did you do that?" he shouted, suddenly and strangely angry. He couldn't seem to understand from where the rage came, nor why he was suddenly breathing in rapid labored breaths. Had he been holding his breath that whole time? "Why d'you pull the - the broom up like that? You fell off your broom! You fell off your broom!" yelled the boy, his hair slightly ruffled as he pulled on it. Instantly, he dropped it and his whole demeanor changed as his hysterical expression altered to one of cold distaste. "That was stupid. That was stupid and - and," but he couldn't seem to keep up his pretense of being calm, despite his great desire of being like his father. "What were you thinking?" he roared again. "You could have killed yourself! And you fell of your broom! You great git, you're s'posed to hold onto it! Are you so stupid as to think -," but he cut himself off when Severus put a firm hand upon his shoulder. He contented himself with merely scowling up at the clouds as if they were the source of all his anger.

Harry had said nothing through Draco's tirade. He merely pulled his knees to his chest and stared at the other boy with an expression worse than the blonde's earlier countenance of horror. Halfway through the young Malfoy's hysterical outburst, he buried his face on his knees and covered his head with his hands. After Draco finished, he still did not move and Severus eyed him, trying to suppress his anger.

To think what could have happened! He could have been killed! It could have been my neck on the line! Dumbledore would have killed me for sure! And all of it would have been over his...my own stupidity.

Severus sighed inwardly. Thank Merlin that Baruch had suggested checking on the boys. What had he been thinking? - Letting a seven year old boy teach a practically muggle Harry Potter how to ride a broom? And trust Draco Malfoy to choose the fastest broom in the shed...

It surprised him, however, that the young Potter boy had not responded to Draco's furious shouts in kind. He had expected Harry to at least yell back, if only a bit, but his assumption had been wrong. Harry had not said a word. He seemed to only hide himself away, his arms covering his head in an obvious defensive gesture. Had Severus not subdued Draco, he had no doubt that the boy would have continued yelling at the Boy-Who-Lived, as the Daily Prophet now called him, and Harry would have sunken deeper into what, Severus believed, was a mental refuge. When Draco had stopped shouting, the smaller boy had not responded to the sudden silence that followed, which seemed to prove the potions professor's odd theory.

He sighed out loud this time and Draco pursed his lips more tightly together, pulled his arms across his chest, and glared even more furiously at the clouds. Severus pitied the sky - he wouldn't like that particular angry expression aimed towards himself. He moved warily towards the boy huddled upon the ground and laid a gentle, inquiring hand on Harry's shoulder.

The reaction was instantaneous. Harry jumped up with an exclamation of evident fear and backed away. Draco seemed startled out of his frustration of the heavens and he looked at the other boy in surprise. Severus pulled his hand back and Harry took off at a run back towards the manor. Draco, for some reason compelled to follow, turned to pursue Harry, but the potions master held him back with an outstretched hand as a blockade.

"Let him go," he said.

"But - " protested the boy.

Severus shook his head and patted his back consolingly. "Let him calm down some, then we'll follow."

Draco scowled up at him, but not with as much ferocity as he had the calm blue sky above. After a short moment of standing there in companionable, though rather irate, silence, the boy said, "I s'pose I shouldn't have yelled..."

"I suppose not," replied Severus softly, looking at the large pond past the Quidditch pitch.

With a rather embarrassed sigh, Draco told him, "I dunno why I did that. I din't mean to - I was - I was angry." He looked up at the man he considered like a second father or favorite uncle with a beseeching expression. "Honest, I was just so awfully mad at him..."

"I know you were," said the man with a small smile tugging at the ends of his lips.

It was a fact that made Severus' heart lift, if only a bit. It was heartening to that strange quilt of nice feelings that had been stitched seemingly onto or into his heart that the son of some one so cold as Lucius Malfoy felt the warmth that Albus Dumbledore was continuously telling him he needed. The fact that Draco didn't seem to know exactly what made him so angry secretly pleased the professor as well.

At least I'm not the only with this damned compassion and bloody 'warmth' inside me, he thought bitterly, but found that he really didn't feel genuinely resentful at all.

When the sun was halfway near its peak in the sky, he told Draco that they should retreat back to the manor and led the way. Baruch was there to greet them, a curious expression upon his face and his eyes a sparkling emerald to match Harry's. "Mr. Potter has locked himself in your wardrobe," he said, humor shining past his obvious concern. "I believe he mistook your room to be his."

Severus just shook his head with an almost indiscernible smile and made to move on towards the living room when Draco tugged on his sleeve. "P'fessor, isn't he calm downed yet?" The elder man noted the slight of speech with amusement and felt a small bit of satisfaction, wishing that Lucius was there to hear it. It aggravated the Malfoy aristocrat to no end that his son had trouble with pronunciation and as hard as he tried to get Draco to say 'Professor' instead of 'P'fessor', the boy still could not do it. Despite the fact that Severus liked Lucius' helplessness at correcting his son's speech, the fault caused the young Malfoy harm on days that his father was in an awful mood.

He looked down at Draco for a moment before nodding in defeat. The small boy traipsed down the hallway and began to turn to the right when Severus said absently, "Left," and Draco swerved in the right direction instead.

It seemed to the professor, in regards to the Potter boy, that things weren't getting better as he had thought. For every step forward, two backwards ones were taken and he believed he would be insane before the beginning of the next term. The duo soon arrived in Severus' rooms and they looked at the wardrobe in which Baruch had told them Harry resided. Draco glanced back at Severus before walking forwards with a determined air and pulling the door open.

They were confronted with a quivering mass of black robes which the potions master presumed was Harry. When the door opened, two bright eyes peered out at them, wide as tea saucers. In an instant, the boy was up, untangling himself from the clothes and dashing out of the room before the other two could do a thing about it.

Draco spun on his heel and chased after him, Severus trailing slightly behind. "Harry," he called down the hallway, "Harry, don't be silly! Come back here this instant!"

Harry raced as fast as he could and struggled up the steps, his breaths coming out fast and labored. He wasn't quite sure why he was running, but he just knew he had to. Opening a door, he rushed inside and looked around for a place to hide as Draco's yelling became louder upon the other boy's advance. He pulled open the closet door froze when he saw the man standing before him. His heart stopped and when the man advanced, his insides wrenched painfully as he scrambled backwards, tripping over the edge of the carpet.

"Stupid little wretch," sneered the man. "Didn't think I'd find you here, did you?" He laughed and that's when Draco opened the door. Harry turned away and crawled behind the sofa, trying to hide.

Draco's eyes widened and he ran away without another glance backwards. He ran smack dab into Professor Snape who stopped him from falling. "There's a man! There's a man and he's after Harry!" he cried.

Severus didn't think as his legs propelled him forward at a pace that may have broken his neck hadn't his torso moved with his lower body. He rushed into the room to see Harry cowering in a corner, sobbing and holding his arms over his head as a familiar man shouted at him. "Ridikkulus!" exclaimed Severus, pointing his wand at the man.

The bogart disappeared in a wisp of smoke and Draco stood in the doorway, his eyes wide. Severus strolled boldly forward and picked up Harry as if he weighed nothing - and he barely did. "I didn't do anything! I'm sorry! Stop please, please!" pleaded the boy, his eyes shut tightly and tears flowing down his face.

He struggled against the professor, but the elder man him securely and set him upon the couch. "Potter - Potter - Harry!" said Severus with increasing volume. Harry's eyes shot open and he looked wildly around before his gaze fell upon the familiar potions master. "That wasn't him," said the professor gently. "It was a bogart."

Harry gulped and looked around, but he saw nothing. "Bogarts take the shape of your worst fear," Draco told him with a small smile, answering the other's unvoiced question. "P'fessor Snape killed it," he said.

The other boy squirmed away from the elder man and looked at his hands which were clasped tightly together in his lap. He just knew he was going to get sent away now. Severus had been so angry! Harry hadn't been able to control that confounded broom and the result was its escape to who knows where. After almost getting himself killed and losing one of the professor's brooms, he was going to be sent back to St. Mary's Orphanage for sure...

"Next time," said Severus in a quiet tone of voice, "perhaps it would be better if it is I who teaches you to fly." Harry's head shot up and his gaze met the potions master's. The man had an eyebrow raised and his eyes held an odd twinkle of a bit amusement.

He turned to Draco who was grinning. "You silly sod, I can't believe you let go of the broom," said the boy, rolling his eyes.

Harry managed a watery smile. "I didn't let go, it - it," but his friend began laughing and he couldn't help the smallest of laughs from escaping his lips.