Broken Shards of Peace

Prologue:

A sixteen year old Severus Snape loves Lily Evans. She returns his love, but can't handle the stress and secrecy his position as a spy places on their relationship. It costs her too much and she leaves him, taking his child with her. Harry is born wearing the charms she put on him to make him resemble his adopted father, James Potter. But their happy home is shattered when Voldemort attacks, leaving Harry the only survivor.

...

Harry is a toddler; abused and neglected by his mother's sister and her husband. Vernon Dursley gets into a bit of trouble financially. But instead of cutting back and living amongst his means, he decides to make some quick cash (three thousand dollars in pounds) by selling his "freak" of a nephew to Americans.

These Americans are not good people. They are lackeys for a black-market Crime Lord who specializes in child slavery; selling them to cults, organ harvesters, and illegal clubs as entertainment. The five year old barely survives the evils of the black-market, but finds happiness for the first time in his life when he finally escapes with the help of a brother.

...

Everything changes again when, at the age of eleven, he is finally found by Death Eaters. And the two boys go on the run, hopping from muggle city to muggle city. They can't run forever and close to Harry's fifteenth birthday, they are found by a wizarding team who has followed their trail for years. When they are asked to come back to the world they were born to and eventually Hogwarts, they agree if only because they are promised protection from the Death Eaters who are getting closer and closer every day.

Back in the wizarding world Hale (aka Harry) and his brother, Laine, find out they have a father: Severus Snape. But acceptance doesn't come easy for any of the three. Dumbledore tries to salvage the situation and train the Boy-Who-Lived for the battle to come, but Laine won't let his little brother be used by anyone. And amid all this, the Dark Lord is desperate to kill the one from prophesy.

...

Will Hogwarts be too much to handle or will Harry and his brother bring the school to its knees?

...

Shards of Broken Peace: Chapter One

Hogwarts, October 16^th 1979. Severus Snape is a Slytherin sixth year and Lily Evans is a Gryffindor seventh year.

Severus walked softly across his bedroom, hoping not to disturb the woman asleep in the bed. The night had been particularly hellish and he'd had to partake in gruesome acts to please the Dark Lord. The hot bath he had taken immediately when he had gotten home had done very little to make him feel clean. It was times like these that he hated the part of him that made him susceptible to the Light side.

His father and mother had no problems with the Dark Lord's methods. They had raised him to be just as callous, cruel, and ambitious, but he had been faulty since childhood. Lily had seen the cracks in his defenses and eventually destroyed the mask he hid behind. She had filled him with the knowledge of love and smashed any chance he had at achieving his goal to honor his parents and pureblood family name.

The anger in his heart that he had allowed himself to be so weakened by a woman, a Mudblood at that, shriveled as he crawled under the covers and felt her warmth seep into him. Merlin! He wasn't even touching her yet and already felt like he was basking under a gentle summer sun. It was bliss! And when her soft, silky arms wrapped around his naked torso he was engulfed by heaven.

The smell of this woman, her smile and laugh, the enticing softness of her body, red luscious hair and brilliant green eyes; she drove him mad with want and need. Her intelligence only fueled that lust and her compassion tempered it with love. She was his everything. She got him through his days filled with the petty academic concerns of a sixth year student and through his nights as a Death Eater. Lily was the air he breathed.

"Sev."

Her sleepy voice came from the darkness and caressed his ear. He couldn't stop a grin from forming and he snaked an arm around her to pull her close. She came willingly and wrapped a bare leg around him. She was wearing a T-shirt and nothing else. Despite his exhaustion, Severus felt his heart quicken. But his heat was doused by the chilled tears that hit his shoulder. Concern flooded him.

"Lil? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Sev. Please. Let's runaway. We can go and leave all this behind; live together in peace."

"You know we can't," he sighed. He thought she was past this already. "The war would follow even if the Dark Lord let me go. The world may fall to him and I can't allow that. Not since I met you. Dumbledore needs help, Lily. And I'm the only spy he has that has an ear in the Dark Lord's inner circle. None of the Dark Lord's other trustworthy lieutenants have traitorous children."

"I know." Lily whispered, still distressed. "And I'm so proud of you. You've helped so many and I would do the same if I could. I just wish things could be different. I wish there had never been a Dark Lord."

"I know, sweetheart. Me too."

"Sev...I can't do this."

"What do you mean?"

She was crying hard now. And the broken sounds tore at his heart. "I love you so much, Sev. With all my heart and soul. I wanted to be here for you, to support you and give you strength."

"You can be, love," he reassured, but doubt gripped him. Something had happened and she was leaving. He knew it. Tears burned the back of his eyes, but they didn't fall. Tears hadn't stained his cheeks since he was a child. He had vowed to never cry again and he wouldn't. Not even for Lily, but how he wanted too. He thought they had gone through the worst already and she had stuck it out with him; so for this to be happening now was like a Dementor's Kiss.

"No. Sev. I can't. I just can't do it. I can't give up another child for you!" she wailed.

"What!" Severus jumped from the bed and quickly spelled the lights on. "What do you mean?"

"I'm pregnant. Again."

Lily sat in the middle of his bed. Dark circles lay under her eyes and her lips were raw from her worrying at them. It made him feel awful knowing he was the cause of such wretchedness. It was this sight of her that gave him the will to let her go. She deserved better than the life he was giving her. All the heartache and sacrifices; she didn't deserve them.

Neither did any child. That was why when Lily had gotten pregnant and given birth to their first child last November, almost a year ago, they had agreed to give it up. It was too dangerous here for a child, especially when he was in such a dangerous position. It just wasn't fair to the baby. He hadn't been a Death Eater then, but it was certain he would become one. It was because of this that they had kept their relationship a secret from the very beginning.

No one knew of their love for each other and Lily had accepted that, but she had almost broken it off with him when she had gotten pregnant. They were young, even more so then. Lily had been fifteen and he had been fourteen. Even had they been free from the complications of the impending war, they might not have kept the child. But for her to get pregnant now!

"I thought you were getting contraception potions!" he accused.

"You know I took them! I did nothing wrong either time!" she yelled back, her sorrow flashing into fury.

"Then how is it possible?" Severus needed to know how this could have happened. After the first accident, they had done everything needed to prevent it from happening again. Why did fate keep taunting him with what he'd never be able to have?

"I don't know!" she glared, but softened with guilt. "I just know that I won't give this one up too. I can't do this. Keeping our love a secret at school is one thing, but I graduate next May. What about then? Will I be locked away in a warded room so no one knows of your perversion? I just can't do this anymore. I'm so sorry, Sev. I love you. I'm sorry."

"What are you going to do?" He sat tiredly, head in his hands.

"I'm going to bed James Potter and then marry him after we graduate."

Severus' head snapped up, his black eyes burning; "I forbid it, Lily. You will do no such thing. That bastard is the most pompous arrogant brat in the world!"

"And he's been madly in love with me for years! He's the only one who will believe the whirlwind romance I'm going to stage is true and marry me. I have to make him believe this child is his."

"No. Oh, Lily, you can't. Don't let the man who hates me with a passion raise my child."

"I'll be raising it too." She was crying with a deep sorrow that he felt in his bones. "There's no other way, Sev. None. I'm sorry. But I must do this."

"Don't. Not yet."

He rose to stop her from leaving. Why did she have to do this right now? But he knew why. It would be torture to have her lying next to him tonight knowing in the morning she'd be out to win and bed another man. It was over between them. Forever. His throat closed up with misery. Merlin! How would he endure this? How? The door shut behind her and he was left alone. Alone to fight all he had ever been taught was right, alone to fight the horrors of the night, alone to bear the burdens of the Light.

...

Godric's Hollow, Halloween night of 1981, one year and three months after Harry's birth.

The circle of black cloaked figures wavered as something snapped inside their very souls. The link of oozing black power that had fed and addicted them shattered. Voldemort was gone. How could that be? Was it a trap? Fear fed the confusion and pops were heard. The most cowardly acted by fleeing. Panicked, others followed suit, until only one figure remained. Severus could wait no longer.

He flew up the drive and into the silent house. It was shaking as if it were alive. He knew it would collapse soon, but he had to know what happened. He had to know about Lily. It took all his will not to stop and spit on Potter's corpse as he passed him, but he was in a hurry. The manor was groaning in distress, beginning to sway. He ran up the stairs that bucked underneath him, not caring if he were racing toward his death.

There she was; lying still on her side. She was beautiful even in death. He wanted to run to her and die with her, buried under the rubble of this godforsaken home. Die triumphantly with the Evil Lord's remains. He had finally been beaten. Severus was free! Joyful laughter threatened to escape him, but he fought the hysteria down. He lashed out in a more satisfying way and let a solid kick land on Voldemort's body.

The house heaved and he fell next to Lily. He was about to reach for the woman who had saved them all, who had somehow taken the Devil with her into death, when a sharp cry split the air. It was a baby! He jumped to his feet and raced over to the crib. Inside, a baby looked up at him through Lily's eyes. Everything else was the image of Potter. Her charms were a masterpiece, he thought ruefully as he lifted his son.

The baby quieted for only a moment before beginning to scream again. Harry was terrified. He'd seen his mother murdered, had almost been killed himself, and now a stranger held him while the walls of the only place he had ever known crumbled around them. He lashed out. It was a weak pulse. He was drained from repelling the evil green magic earlier, but the stranger was still thrown across the room and through the wall. The world exploded.

...

Severus stood shakily. He had never felt such raw power in his life. It numbed his brain. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened. He had been holding his son and preparing to escape when the boy began screaming in terror. White light blinded him, but didn't numb his pain when he slammed back-first into a wall. Then darkness.

He looked around frantically. Smoking rubble surrounded him. Godric's Hollow was no more. The baby! He had to find his son! Bleeding in a dozen places, supporting a shattered arm, Severus stumbled around looking for the child. A pop sounded right behind him and he almost fainted from the effort of spinning around. A smiling bearded face met him and competent hands wrapped around him. They apperated away.

"Severus, my dear boy. I've been looking for you everywhere! You had me very worried," Dumbledore said as he sat the young wizard down on a school hospital bed.

"Baby? Where?"

"He's fine, Severus. I know you were close to Lily and her death must have hurt you deeply. To have seen it, I can only imagine. But rest assured her son is fine. He is The-Boy-Who-Lived. He repelled Voldemort's killing curse and saved us all from the destruction that the Dark Lord would have wrought for a little time yet. We won't be caught off guard next time."

"Next time?"

Severus' head was spinning. Hogwart's nurse was tending to him and her bustling movements weren't helping him comprehend. He needed to tell Dumbledore the truth, that the boy was his son. He wanted him back. Oh, Merlin, Lily! Why did you need to die? As Dumbledore began talking, he was yanked from his thoughts.

"There is a prophesy, Severus. It was why Voldemort attacked. He learned of it earlier this year. That baby is the only one who holds the power to stop him, but he wasn't quite able to fulfill the prophesy just yet. Voldemort will rise again and only Harry will be able to stop him. We will have to prepare in the meantime. Every second must be used to prepare us for what's to come. Otherwise, Hell will reign on Earth."

"Come back? Are you sure? He was dead!" Severus shouted. No, this couldn't be happening. It was over! He was free! A tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't know it. Dumbledore saw and he wrapped an arm around the young man's shoulders.

"Voldemort lives on as a shade. He is greatly weakened, but will seek to regain his strength and body within a few years. We must do all we can to slow his progress. Harry must be given time to grow to face the Dark Lord and gain the knowledge to destroy him completely."

"Why?" Severus demanded. This thing wouldn't consume his son as well. He wouldn't allow it! "What did the prophesy say exactly?"

Dumbledore showed him what a young seer had seen. She had never been wrong before and the power of the vision had burned out her third-eye completely. There was no doubt to its truth, but no one was sure if she'd ever recover. Severus collapsed onto the hospital bed with despair. Dumbledore gave him privacy and went out into a world that was celebrating its freedom.

Alone in the dark, ebony eyes wept and the last of Severus' heart was locked behind impenetrable iron and steel. There were no cracks. No weaknesses. Never again.

...

Number 4 Privet Drive, November 1985.

Booming thunder encompassed his world. It rattled the walls and shook his bones. The little boy darted forward where the door should be. It swung open as his slight weight was pressed against it and light flooded over him and into his sensitive eyes. Panting, he huddled in the hallway, a stick thin woman towering over him with a heavy metal ladle in her hands. She had been the cause of the thunder; the god of his world.

"Get cleaned up," she hissed threateningly. "You leave for school in an hour."

The boy nodded jerkily and scurried as fast as he could to the bathroom. Seven days this time. They had never locked him away for that long without at least opening the door to throw him bottled water. One hundred and sixty eight hours without even a sliver of light, a drop of water, or a bite of food.

The boy moaned with agony. His insides were on fire with need, but his mind was too numb to understand its message. Dots of light danced in his eyes so he shut them tight. He knew the way without them anyway. Or even without coherency. Good thing because he was distinctly jumbled.

Another door banged against a wall as he stumbled through it. A cool tub presses suddenly against his shaking hands and he threw himself forward, hands frantically searching for the facet. Liquid bliss spilled over his mouth. His tongue, so swollen and dry, almost stopped it from passing into his throat.

Whimpering fills his ears. He giggled drunkenly when he realized it was him making the sound. He imagined he had turned into a puppy. What fun it'd be to have a tail; to be so small that he could hide safely away when his family was mad. But he deserved it. Didn't he? He shook his head and went back to daydreaming.

Maybe they'd love him if he were a puppy. Puppies were so cute and lovable after all. They'd hold him and feed him and take him for walks. He could sleep curled up warm at the end of the bed. Or maybe they'd let him sleep outside with the wide open yard and a sky full of stars over him. But it wouldn't happen. He was a boy. A very bad ungratefully little boy and no one would ever love him.

He didn't even realize he had been crying until the heavy hand hit him hard on the back of his head. He looked up through blurry eyes to see his aunt. She was screaming at him, but he couldn't quite make out the words. It didn't matter. He knew what she was saying. She only ever hit him with her hand if he were crying. Usually she just used her ladle.

As if guessing he couldn't hear her, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back over to his cupboard. She reached in and took out the best of his secondhand clothes. The boy went to reach for them, but she yanked them away so she could throw them hard in his face. He picked them up and shakily began putting them on.

He had been behaving horribly this morning, crying and all, and was refused food. That was okay. He didn't think he could keep any down even if he were given a feast. Dudley had no such problems and easily ate all his mother gave him. Vernon came down. He kissed his wife good morning and patted his son proudly on the shoulder.

The boy had been ignored by his uncle all his life. It was as if he were invisible to the man, but lately the beady eyes had found him. He didn't know why it scared him. He remembered he had once wished his uncle would see him and ask him to play catch or a board game like he did with Dudley. Why was he scared now that it might happen?

Because he didn't believe his uncle wanted to be nice to him and play with him like he did with Dudley. He knew his uncle must hate him too. He had never done anything to protect him from his aunt or even slip him water or food when he really needed it. Not that he should. He was a bad filthy boy. His uncle only loved good boys like Dudley.

Now that was frustrating. If Dudley was good when he did things that they were constantly yelling at him to never do, then how was he ever to be good? He'd get beat to death before he ever got through half-an-hour acting like his cousin. The boy was constantly yelling at his parents, demanding more from them or making them do things for him. Dudley never did chores like he had to, and he never was hit or yelled at. It didn't seem fair.

He was yanked from this new idea, one he had never allowed himself, when his aunt grabbed him from the corner where he sat. Tables were for people and he wasn't people. He was an It. If they did want to feed him, they threw it on the floor and he would sit in his corner in the kitchen and eat it silently for fear it would be taken away before he could finish.

God! He hit himself lightly in the face. He needed to snap out of it. His mind was all over the place. Focus. He didn't even remember getting in the car. A large grin stretched across his face. He was riding in the car! Usually they made him walk to school. He was very glad and thanked his aunt very politely. He knew the four and a half miles would have killed him today. His aunt didn't respond, but Dudley glared over his shoulder from the front seat.

They pulled up to the elementary school and the boy became Harry. He'd never known his name until a little over a month ago when he had entered primary school. Harry loved being five. He loved school. Any chance to escape his aunt's watchful eyes was wonderful. It would have been heaven if Dudley wasn't in his class.

The larger boy picked on him mercilessly. He stole his homework, beat him up on the playground, and threatened anyone who tried to talk to him. It was still much better than home and Harry didn't complain. At least the teacher liked him. And he worshiped her for her kind attention. Last week, she even believed him over Dudley about who had stolen her candy.

The fat boy had been enraged and attacked his smaller cousin after school. Harry was mildly surprised at how much damage the bigger child could do. Even Aunt Petunia hadn't beat him so thoroughly before. When they had gotten home, Dudley had shown his mother his bruised fists and feet and the woman went into a rage of her own. How dare Harry hurt her son! She threw him into the cupboard and only now released him.

It wasn't fair, the thought came again, and it began to make him wonder.

"Hello! Earth to Scruffy!" a girl screamed in his ear.

He spun around, heart pounding in his chest with fright. Abigail stood before him, face angry and her little hands on her hips. How did he get inside and to his homeroom without noticing? He really had to wake up before he got into trouble. What if they kicked him out of school? He'd be in so much trouble and he wouldn't get to come learn anymore.

"Y-yes?" he asked timidly.

"Get out of the way!" she screeched again.

He quickly moved out of the doorway and blushed with shame. God, he was so stupid. He couldn't even walk to class right. Depressed and ill, time seemed to distort. It seemed only like an eye blink later that Ms. Hedley gently shook his shoulder. Harry blinked up into her kind face and smiled.

"Are you okay? I've called you twice now."

"I'm fine," Harry answered shyly.

"Well, it's time for lunch. Aren't you going to go eat?"

Another reason he loved school. They gave him a free lunch. He knew he should go. He was literally starving. But the thought of food made him want to gag. Ms. Hedley seemed to know this and she smiled again, "Why don't you just stay here with me and have some milk?"

"Okay."

Harry let her guide him by his small hand to her desk. She sat and pulled his small frame into her lap. Almost bursting with glee at the warm embrace, he couldn't hold the milk carton steady. Ms. Hedley helped him and he leaned back into her warmth gratefully. The door opened and a woman stepped in. Ms. Hedley smiled at her so Harry relaxed.

"Is that Harry Potter?" the woman asked.

"Yes. Is something wrong, Elizabeth?"

"No. His uncle is here to pick him up. He says Harry has a doctor's appointment."

"Really? He's been out for a week, surely he's already gone."

"I don't know."

"And why send him back to school today if he has to go to the doctor?"

"I don't know, Justine. I'm just the secretary."

"I'll bring him."

She looked down at the small child in her lap and saw tears spilling down his cheeks. Her heart clenched. Something was dreadfully wrong. This boy was so tiny, much smaller than the other children in the class and was so submissive. She didn't think it was shyness any longer. And he'd been so disorientated today. Not at all like the attentive child he was usually. She had a few questions for his uncle.

"Come, Harry," she said gently as she stood. Harry didn't let her go so she carried him. "Lets see what this is all about."

When they got to the office, a huge man, obviously related to Dudley, stood waiting impatiently. He saw Harry in her arms and his eyes narrowed for a split second before his face broke into what he thought was his most charming smile. It only sickened Ms. Hedley. She disliked the man greatly just from looking at him.

"Ah, here's the boy. Thank you for bring him." Vernon smiled.

"What doctor is he visiting? And why was he out all last week?"

"Come, boy," Vernon said, ignoring the questions.

Harry immediately struggled free of his beloved teachers arms and went to his uncle. The huge man didn't bend over to lift him or reach out a hand for the young boy to hold. Harry didn't seem to expect him too. She frowned, "Now wait a minute."

"I'm sorry. I can't. We're already late." Vernon smiled again and turned.

She didn't stop them. And how she would regret that decision later. She'd never see that sweet child again. Harry seemed to know he wouldn't be back for he turned to look at her and gave a small wave goodbye. She waved back; making a silent promise to help the boy. One she wouldn't be able to keep. Harry turned forward and trotted after his uncle.

He was offered the front seat and Harry climbed in excitedly. He never rode up front! The view mesmerized him. He didn't feel any apprehension when they drove out of town and toward London. He innocently enjoyed the rare ride. His uncle didn't speak. Harry didn't either. They finally pulled into a parking lot of a closed supermarket hours later. Harry was dozing and Vernon's sharp voice woke him.

"Get up, boy. And you better be good."

Harry nodded and crawled out of the car. Men were waiting by the only other car and Vernon led him over. The men looked Harry over and smiled. They gave Vernon a thick wallet and the man took it quickly before turning back to his car. Harry turned to follow his uncle, but a strong arm wrapped around his middle and lifted him up. Harry grabbed onto the man so he wouldn't fall.

"You're coming with us, kiddo," the man said and Harry cocked his head at the funny accent.

...

Airport, New York City, thirty hours later.

The cold November air seeped through the small holes on the top of his crate and he pressed himself against them. Bruises bloomed on his shoulders and back from the jostling he had received during the flight. It had been so terrifying he had vomited bile. The smell clung to him and made his eyes sting.

"Fuck! You smell that?" A man cussed as he lifted the crate.

"Yeah. The dog must've gotten sick," another answered while helping his friend unload.

"I don't know why these rich bastards have to tote their animals with them wherever they go. It's sick!"

"Think of the animal. Poor things."

"Poor things, my ass. They're probably eating caviar off their master's plates at night."

They laughed and Harry's crate was set down on a moving conveyer belt. He wasn't tempted to cry out. The men who had taken him from Vernon had warned him that if he woke early and made noise it would be very bad. Terrified of punishment, Harry had obeyed, praying the drug that the men had given him would make him sleep a long time.

But he had woken up hours ago; two hellish hours. Just thinking of them made him sick and afraid. He'd never dream of being a puppy again, that was for sure. The crate tipped and slammed forward. Unprepared, Harry's head cracked against the side of the kennel and he blacked out with the cussing of men ringing in his ears.

...

When he woke, he was shivering. His teeth were chattering and he sat up with a wince of pain. His whole body hurt, but he ignored that to look around. He was in the back seat of a car. Two men were sitting up front. Both were wrapped in heavy jackets and were unfamiliar. Harry still only wore Dudley's castoffs.

"The brat's awake and cold," the man upfront spoke up.

"So what?"

The other shrugged.

Harry huddled into himself, confused. What was going on? He wanted to cry, but was too dry to do so. He must have been very, very bad. A bottle tapped his arm and his head snapped up. The passenger had turned and was giving him a bottle of water. Harry thanked him and gulped it down. The other smiled back and turned around. The driver hit him on the shoulder with a sneer, but the man didn't seem to care. Harry passed out again.

...

He woke and sat up slowly. He was in a different room, no longer in the car. A big room and it was wooden and rocked gently. Blankets littered the floor and dozens of children were piled among them. Some were crying softly, others were just staring off in a drugged stupor, while the rest were asleep as Harry had been.

"Bout time you got up."

Harry spun around and looked at the boy who had spoken. He was Harry's age or maybe a year older. His tangled black hair was cut raggedly around his ears and fell into his bright blue eyes. Harry just stared wide-eyed wondering if the boy would hurt him. The boy seemed to know this and smiled.

"I saved ya food."

Laine freed his arms from under his thin blanket and handed over bread and cheese. Harry reached for it and then froze. The boy's arm was filthy but he could still make out red jagged lines striping it from wrist to shoulder. They looked painful and Harry felt tears sting his eyes. His own small skeletal hands reached out. They passed the food offering and gently wrapped around the wounded arm. Laine gasped and tried to yank away, but Harry held on.

"What're you doing?" the boy demanded, but didn't try to pull away again. "Let it be."

"You're hurt." Harry looked up into the blue eyes mournfully.

Laine's anger and fear melted away when confronted with such sorrowful eyes. He was in charge of the children in the hold; made sure they didn't get sick or die. He'd been here for almost four months and had seen many children come and go, but as soon as he had laid eyes on this starved boy he had instantly known there was something different about him.

Looking into the bright green eyes filled with unearthly compassion over such simple wounds showed him he had been right. The boy really cared that he was hurt and Laine could see how desperately the small child wanted to fix it. But he couldn't. No one could. "I'm fine, alright? Just eat."

Harry took back his hands and the boy dropped the food into them. He put it to his mouth and chewed slowly. His stomach yearned for food and he fought hard not to sick it up. The older boy knew how it was and rubbed his back. Harry cried; for his own pain and the pain of this kind boy. What was going on?

"People want to adopt kids, you know? But getting kids is hard," Laine answered, not realizing he had heard Harry's thoughts. "It takes lots of time and money. So some people pay to get kids from other countries since this country don't have that many to give. But that takes years and by then the children are pretty old, so they pay for kids from the black-market. It's like a secret store. You're here because people wanted a black haired, green-eyed child and the sellers found you. This is the place that the kids who are for sale are held, but you won't be here long. You'll be going' to your new mommy and daddy soon."

"I never had a mommy and daddy. Only an aunt and uncle." Harry mumbled, still eating.

"Oh."

"What about you? Are you going to a mommy and daddy?"

"No. Most here don't go to mommies and daddies. I was here to be sold to these other people, but I made 'em sicken and die so they kept sending me back. Now I'm corrupted goods and work here taking care of the for-sale kids."

"What kind of other people?" Harry whispered back, food forgotten.

"People who need toys to play with. I was a toy and most of these others will be too." Laine answered with an empty voice that made Harry whimper. The blue eyed boy heard and glared angrily. "Now leave it alone."

Harry stared at Laine's small back as the older boy turned away. He felt bad that he had pressed the boy and caused him to pull away. He hadn't wanted that. He was about to reach out to him, but the door to the hold banged open. All the children looked over, silence descended and they waited in horror for the demand.

"Laine! Bring up the Angels."

The blue-eyed boy stood and stepped forward. Harry stared. He wore no cloths so he could see all the ugly stripes crisscrossing down Laine's back clear as day. Harry looked down at himself and saw only a blanket covered him as well, but he was unmarked besides the bruising from the crate. He pulled it closer and hunched down. Laine walked away from him and went across the hold to a corner in the right. There he herded a handful of equally naked children over to the stairs. They were young, from the ages of four to six, and blonde.

The children began to climb the stairs and Laine looked to be about to go with them. He didn't seem to be scared, but Harry was and he didn't want to be left alone here. He jumped up and ran. Laine turned around at the sound of his footsteps and stared wide-eyed at the small child. The boy only came only up to his shoulders and his thick, messy, black locks tickled his nose as the boy wrapped himself around him. He gasped in pain as the arms went around his wounds and he flung the smaller child away. Harry fell back and looked up from the floor tearfully.

"I don't want you to go. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Shut up. You don't know anything about me. Go back!" Laine hissed.

What was the brat thinking? Did he want to be taken to be seen by buyers? The stupid brat! Why the hell'd he try to feed him anyway? Just cause he was small and special. It was stupid. Angry at himself, Laine spun around and climbed up the stairs to the waiting man. The door shut and the hold was plunged back into dim darkness. Only the slight sunlight that came through the boards gave the children any light at all.

...

The hold door opened and the blonde children were led back down by Laine. He stood stiffly and some of the kids were crying. Harry didn't think there were as many as had gone up. Laine put them back in the corner he had taken them from and spoke to them. Harry couldn't make out what he was saying, but it seemed to be instructions.

The blue-eyed boy rose and turned toward Harry. His face was blank. There was no pain, fear, or anger there. Harry took hope from it. Maybe Laine wasn't mad at him anymore. His eyes lowered to his friend's chest and he gasped. New bleeding cuts decorated the scarred flesh. Tears burned his eyes. Why? Was Laine bad? Harry didn't think the blue-eyed boy could ever be bad.

Laine didn't say anything as he took a seat beside the small Harry. He just closed his eyes and pretended that his spot was as empty as it normally was. Behind his eyes, he went over the hold. Kids were divided in different groups in the black-market and Laine had separated the kids into those groups, so the Master wouldn't get mad for taking a long time to gather the ones he wanted. To make sure they stayed, Laine threatened and bribed.

The first group was the Angels, young unused blonde children. The second was their opposites, named Brats, who were young unused dark-haired children. Darks were the third group and were young unused children who weren't white. Newbie's were any kids, no matter their coloring, who were seven years old or older that had no experience. The last group was called Pets consisting of anyone who had experience.

Laine went over his list of which he had given food and water to and who would be next. He had only gotten halfway through it when something cold touched his burning skin. He jumped, his eyes snapping open. The green-eyed boy was kneeling in front of him, dabbing at his cuts with a wet blanket; a dirty wet blanket. Laine hissed and shoved the small arm away. He had learned long ago that it was better to let his wounds heal without aid. Trying to help them only made them infected.

Harry looked up into his friend's angry face and bit his lip. He had only meant to help. Laine stared into those wet eyes and relented. The boy didn't know. He sighed and pulled the boy up so he was sitting next to him. Harry smiled brightly, knowing this meant he was forgiven. "It's best to do nothing for it." Laine explained.

"But it hurts." Harry frowned.

"Leave it be."

"But didn't it feel better?"

Laine was about to snap that of course it didn't, when he paused. Now that he was thinking about it, that side did hurt less. He looked down and his eyes widened. The end of the whip lash that the boy had been tending had stopped bleeding and shrunk. It was pleasantly numb as well.

"It does," he whispered, awed.

"I can do the rest. Please?"

Laine was too shocked to say anything and Harry took that as permission. He grabbed the blanket and dipped it in his cup of water again. Carefully, with all the care in the world, he began to wipe at the injuries once more. Laine sat still under the small boy's ministrations. He felt tears burn his eyes as the constant pain he lived with began to diminish. The cooling sensation slowly spread and it felt like heaven. Harry stopped, misunderstanding his friend's tears.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No," Laine quickly brushed away his tears. "It just doesn't hurt anymore."

Harry smiled a blindingly bright smile. He understood perfectly what his friend was saying. Happier than he had ever been, Harry continued to treat the boy's wounds. He'd never been needed before. He'd never done anything right and it was the best thing in the world. But he was getting tired. His arm slowly got heavier and his eyes blurred.

Unknown to him, he possessed very powerful magic and was using it to heal Laine. But most of his magic was tied up in keeping his own fragile body alive. The mistreatment from the Dursley's would have killed a normal child. Days without food and water, years without sufficient amounts of either, had damaged his body even with his magic trying desperately to support his systems. He had very little to spare.

Laine was reveling in the feeling of being cared for and cared about. Even at the orphanage, before he was sold the first time, no one had cried because he hurt as this boy had done. And ever since his orphanage burned down, no one had cared at all about anything but causing him pain. It made him feel...He didn't even know how to describe it. He didn't know any words that fit.

He was brought out of his pleasant, if bitter-sweet, thoughts when the hand granting him such rare relief wavered. He looked over and his heart clenched. The small boy was paler than before. His eyes were half closed with exhaustion and his whole body shook slightly. The blanket fell from the trembling hand and the boy was about to topple over when Laine grabbed him.

"Sorry," the child whispered tearfully. "Wanted to finish."

"You did," Laine promised. "I feel all better. Thank you. Rest."

"So tired," Harry agreed and fell asleep in his friend's warm arms.

Laine lay back on his side with the boy curled up into his chest. He smiled guiltily. As much as it had cost the child, he was ever so grateful for the gift he had been given. It had been so long since he had been able to lie down without pain to sleep. He had gotten to the point where he had trained himself to sleep sitting upright.

"Thank you," he whispered again and drifted into surprisingly peaceful dreams.

Chapter end. Please review.