Facing the Past

Ch 2: Summer

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The school term was over. Voldemort was back. Cedric was dead and I was responsible. Everything was terrible, but worst of all I was being sent back to the Dursleys'. I knew that I could never make them understand what I had gone through. Dumbledore had written and tried to explain to them. I only knew because when I got in the car after Uncle Vernon came to pick me up, all that he could talk about was how it served me right to have some "mad man" following me and trying to kill me.

At first, I thought he was wrong, then I realized: he wasn't. I'd made so many mistakes in my short lifetime. . . . So many things were my fault; at least that's what I thought at the time. I went through the summer in terrible depression.

The Dursleys had me working harder than ever. They had gotten over their fear of me doing magic, and knew, thanks to Dumbledore, that I couldn't run away. I worked hard that summer. There were so many chores for me to do. The Dursleys' house value must have gone up several hundred pounds that summer thanks to all the work I did. I painted the house (inside and out), cleaned the gutters, re-wallpapered the guest bed and bath, and many more chores. One day there was a hard rain and it was discovered that the roof had a leak. The Dursleys hired a man to fix it, but, of course, I had to help.

All these chores were only fitting, I felt. I deserved them after all the wrong I had done. I'd hurt so many people. Done so many things wrong. The chores were a kind of punishment, and I took them as if I deserved them. I had to suffer, after all the pain I had put everyone else through, now it was my turn to feel the pain.

The punishments the Dursleys gave me weren't enough. I soon began to punish myself. The first thing to go was food. I wasn't good enough to eat. I limited myself to what I had been living on while Dudley had been on his diet the previous year. This pleased the Dursleys immensely, less money wasted on me. That should have been the first clue; they were pleased about something I did. I didn't see it though. I was too depressed.

In mid-July I moved myself back to the cupboard. I didn't think I was worthy of having such a large bedroom. Besides, there were too many places that someone could hide in there. I always had to check under the bed or in the wardrobe to make sure that no one was there. This action pleased the Dursleys even more then the first one. I thought the punishment to be very fitting, personally.

By my birthday I'd lost the little extra weight I had to loose. I probably looked like a walking skeleton, I wouldn't know. I have no pictures of myself at that age, at least no personal pictures. None of my friends had a camera, and the Dursleys' most defiantly weren't going to waste film on me.

Early on the morning of July 31, I got out of bed and went outside. I had chores to do and it took me longer to do them now that I had become so weak. Just as the sun was beginning to peak over the houses along the lane, I spotted the first owl. Soon three owls and a parrot had settled along the rail of the porch. Each had a package and a letter.

I set the clippers down (The Dursleys made me cut each blade of grass by hand with a pair of nail clippers and a ruler, not one blade was to be longer then an inch) and took a seat on the steps. One by one I called the birds to me.

The first was from Hermione.

Swiftly I ran my finger between the parchment and the wax seal on the letter. Hermione was always the most understanding one of my two best friends. She never had to ask, "are you alright?" It always seemed as if she knew exactly what I was feeling and why I felt that way. The letter was no different then how it would have felt if she had been there with me. I know exactly what the letter says because I have always kept all of my correspondents. I have never had many.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry set down his quill and looked at the words he had written. "I was so depressed," he thought sadly.

After taking his wand out of the holster at his side, Harry pointed it at the bottom draw of his desk. After muttering a quick opening spell, as well as the password, the drawer opened compliantly. Swiftly he pushed all of the hanging folders to the front and reached way into the back. Out came an old box. The black velvet was fading slowly. The box had been a gift from Hermione in his 6th year, if he remembered correctly. Slowly the dusty lid was taken off of the top of the box to reveal the yellowing papers inside. Each letter was organized both chronologically and by sender. Harry's calloused fingers shifted through the often-read papers quickly until he came to the right letter.

The letter was lifted out of the box and opened. Each of the letters in the box had been read thousands of times over, and this one was no exception. Harry's eyes blurred as he read the words silently to himself.

Finished, Harry picked up his quill again and began to copy her words onto the parchment in front of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Harry,

I haven't had a single letter from you all summer. It seems illogical to assume the Dursleys would try and lock Hedwig up, yet again, after all the ruckus she made last time they tried that. Perhaps you're just too busy, most people would think that to be the logical answer. I, however, know better. You've never been too busy to try and write to us. Something's wrong, I can feel it. It's not Voldemort, no, Dumbledore would have told us. The lack of letters could only be one of two reasons: You don't wish to talk to us (which I highly doubt) or you're too upset. I must assume that it is the latter rather then the former. A lot happened, Harry, but you must realize that it was NOT your fault. Everyone makes their own decisions. You are not the axis on which the world turns and I know you know that. (Snape is kind enough to remind you of that nearly every day). It is not your fault that Cedric died, he choose to take the cup as much as you did. Please remember that you are not the cause of his death, you were only doing what you thought to be the wisest decision. Cheer up Harry: the world isn't over. There's always another day. I hadn't intended on making this letter sound so dower, but I felt that I had to. Happy Birthday Harry, you're fifteen now. I sent along your gift with the post owl from the post office.

I love you always and forever,

Hermione

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry checked the letter over several times, making sure that it was all correct, that he hadn't miscopied somewhere along the way. It didn't seem that he had.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Included with the letter was a bright birthday card. It was cheery and cleverly composed. I thought that it would add a bit of cheer to the inside of my trunk, so I set it aside before reaching for the package from Hermione.

I removed the brown parcel wrapping to reveal bright red paper with golden snitch's fluttering about on it. Under the paper was a box, inside the box, a smaller box. The box was black, long and skinny. Upon opening the hinged box I found a thin golden chain with a small charm attached. The charm was a small glass ball with miniature broom inside. On the handle of the broom was my name: Harry J. Potter. Tucked into the lid was another letter from Hermione.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry reached up and fingered the charm he still wore around his neck after all these years. It was one of the few bits of jewelry he wore. There was a small silver band around his finger. The inscription along the inside of the band read Severus Snape and Harry Potter~ October 15, 2002. That was the day he and Sev' had gotten together, though they didn't consider themselves official for some time after that. The only other bit was a small chain link circle around his ankle. It acted as a tracing spell that was attached to specific people he had met while he was gone for those five years, although, very few people knew that. Sev' wasn't even one of those privy to this knowledge.

Harry's fingers reached for the velvet box again, and this time extracted the second note from Hermione. Quickly he glanced through the short note and began to copy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry,

Do cheer up, love, it is your birthday after all. Hope you like the necklace, when you hold it you'll get a mental image of your two best friends.

Hermione

The message was short, especially compared to the first one, but to me, it signified that Hermione truly cared. As I said before, she always seemed to know what was wrong and what to say to cheer me up. And the gift did, indeed, cheer me up, for a short time.

Finished with the gifts and letters from Hermione I reached for the letter and gift from Ron. I'm not sorry to say that I can't tell you exactly what the letter said anymore. I burned it. Now isn't the time to say why, but it's gone. All that remains of the letter is the jar full of ash that sits on the mantle piece of the fireplace in my office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry glanced up at the jar and shook his head. "This hurts too much. I can't do it anymore," he thought. Then he looked to the picture on the far end of the mantle and thought, "For Sev'." The picture was a beautiful one. It had been taken on the day that Sev' had given Harry his ring. Both men were dressed nicely and they were seated at a small table at an Italian restaurant in Diagon Ally.

Harry found his quill and dipped the nib lightly into the ink.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The letter from Ron was short. I remember most of it. Ron assumed that I was dieing to be out of the Dursleys' house. I suppose that anyone in their right minds would have been, but I, for one, wasn't in my right mind. The contents of the letter were brief and more or less said "Happy Birthday" ... and something that meant they'd be at my house in a week to pick me up, and that Dumbledore had already given the OK.

I didn't want to go to Ron's house. I wanted to stay where I was and suffer like I deserved. I knew that if I were to go to the Weasleys' I would simply be fussed over, and that wasn't what I was looking for. A mental note was made to write a letter and send it to the Weasleys, refusing their offer of hospitality.

I opened the Gift that had accompanied the letter and found a miniature Quidditch set. I couldn't see what I could possibly want one of those for but then I realized that along with the balls came tiny action figures of Ron's favorite team, the Chuddly Cannons. When set up properly they would play Quidditch. The gift could be amusing, but I didn't have time to play. I had work to do.

The next letter to reach my hand was from Hagrid. His letters always made me laugh. If anyone needed school it was Hagrid, but he'd been cheated out of the education that he really needed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry's hands flipped through the short notes from Hagrid and found the right one fairly quickly. Upon opening it and reading it he broke into a grin. Leave it to Hagrid to be overly cheerful and be unable to keep any kind of secret.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hi there Harry,

Happee Birthday.. hope yer doin' well. Write more often. Yer godfather was up here not too long ago. Said he had a surprise for ye. Ye'll be happy with him.

Love,

Hagrid

Somehow the short letters from Hagrid always made me feel good inside. Hagrid was my first friend, after all. I'll always have a special place in my heart for him, I suppose. I can't believe that I went for eleven years with out a single friend. The friendly man was always willing to do anything to make me smile when I was down, and he succeeded. Although, I'm sure that if I had tried to eat any of the rock cake that he had sent for my birthday I wouldn't have been able to open my mouth for several months.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry sighed as he thought about what had happened to Hagrid. The Giant really hadn't deserved what happened to him. Hagrid was the last person to deserve that. Harry's hand came to rest on the photo of Hagrid on his desk. He missed the man and really wished that he were still here to talk to sometimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The last bird was a parrot from Sirius. It seems that he was still staying in the sun, even though he was working for Dumbledore now. Sirius was spying at the time, for the Order. I was lucky to even be able to receive a letter from him, now that I think about it. The parrot could probably have been easily traced back to wherever he was staying. If Sirius had been hurt I don't know what I would have done. At the time he was one of the few people that still held me to life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Gods Sirius, what would I have done with out you?" Harry whispered to the framed photo on the wall next to his desk. The picture only smiled and waved at him. It was a recent picture. It had been taken at a family reunion that they had held at Sirius' Scotland mansion where Black family lived. That had been fun. Harry had gotten to meet the family of the man that he thought of as a father. There were so many of them. More then 100 had been present, and quite a few others had not found the time or energy to attend the reunion.

Harry had no problem finding the letter from Sirius. This time he didn't even bother to read the letter before copying it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday. I'm sorry I haven't written as often as you probably would have liked, but I've been rather busy. Moony and I have been traveling together. We have gotten to know the countryside where we're staying very well, very well indeed. I won't say anymore, must be careful of what we say now more then ever.

As I was saying, Happy Birthday, Harry. If the Dursleys give you any problems write to me and I'll do everything in my power to help you. I wish that I could take you away from them forever, but at the moment it is impossible. Number four Privet drive is the second place safest place for you to be with Voldemort on the loose. My time is short, and my candle low. Happy birthday Harry.

Love,

Snuffles

I remember that was the year that Sirius began to say Voldemort's name. I, like Dumbledore, held with the theory that fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. It seems to me that Dumbledore must have insisted that anyone in the Order should call The Dark Lord by his given name, Voldemort. Of course, there were a few exceptions to the rule, Sev' being the main one. He had to address Voldemort properly when in his presence.

I should have been the person in the world who feared Voldemort most. He had killed my parents and he was specifically hunting for me. There was a reward offered to the first death eater that caught me, although at the time, that information had not yet reached my "virgin" ears. And, compared to now, my ears were virgin, though I was no innocent back then. Despite all of this, I very much doubt that I was the one who feared Voldemort most. No, I don't think I really feared him, at least not as a person. I feared Voldemort only as a mortal facing an immortal. In all likelihood, I would fail. What chance does a man, boy, still made of skin and bones, a boy with a SOUL, have against a thing with out one? Something that wasn't quite human, but wasn't demon or a god either? No, it wasn't fear that I had felt, but anger, and pure, un-bridled hatred. I knew that if I ever got the chance, I would kill him. I didn't care what it took. I didn't care if killing him would be the death of me. I swore to myself, that if the chance ever presented itself to me, I would take it. Voldemort would be dead or I would die trying.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry jumped as the quill he held clutched in his hand snapped in half. "Damn," he swore aloud as he reached for a new quill. It was amazing how just thinking about Voldemort could still make him angry. The muscles in his arms were bunched as if getting ready to throw a punch. His abs were flexed, waiting to receive an imaginary blow. Harry's guts were tied in hard knots and there was a tight, angry lump at the back of his throat. Voldemort was still hated by Harry. Oh yes, he still hated him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Voldemort's name will go down in history. The unfair part about that is only the fear that is associated with his name will be remembered. None of the anger and hatred, that I, one of the key players in this whole ordeal, felt will be recorded. No reporter has ever bothered to interview me about what I think of Voldemort. They all assumed that I feared him. How could The-Boy-Who-Lived, not fear Voldemort? It just doesn't seem right that he would feel any other way.

Back to the story I was telling before I went off on my tangent. It was my birthday and I was just finished with my gifts.

After looking at all of my gifts and reading the letters through again, I slipped back inside. Carefully I put the gifts in the trunk in the upstairs bedroom (there wasn't enough room in my cupboard for all my school supplies and me), all but the necklace from Hermione, which I put on. I've never removed the necklace. I put it on the day I got it, and I have yet to remove it, ever. I've even spelled it so that it can't be taken off by anyone but me.

All of my things put away, I went back outside. I had to finish this lawn by nine, and it was already six. The Dursleys would be waking up then and I had to have breakfast ready for them. Dudley was insanely fat at the time. I'm surprised that he didn't have a heart attack until the following year. It's amazing that Uncle Vernon hadn't either for that matter.

It was too long ago to remember many more details now, but I do remember that it was a horrible summer, a summer of punishment. I wrote to the Weasley's and said that I wouldn't be coming to visit. Maybe that's when I first started to push my friend away; maybe the process had already begun. I don't know. I suppose I didn't understand him as well as I thought that I did. It's damn sure that he didn't understand me.

The summer was long and hot, blazing hot. I spent most of it working, and working hard. I must have passed out several times. Sometimes, waking up would be like trying to swim through a pool of black ink. The Dursleys didn't notice, and moreover, they wouldn't have done anything about it if they had. I probably would have been made fun of for it, actually.

The rest of that summer was completely uneventful, unless of course, you count Aunt Petunia beginning menopause. I worked hard and lost more weight then I had to loose.

At the end of summer Dumbledore convinced Uncle Vernon to give me a ride to the station. Really, I had no problem with that. He grumbled the whole time of course, but now I felt that he was perfectly justified in so doing. The words hardly affected me, at least, not in the way that they should have affected a fifteen-year-old boy.

I made my away to the Hogwarts Express and on board. I found an empty compartment and settled down in it. It wasn't until the train was already on its way that Ron and Hermione found me. Both of them were excited, and relived, to see me. I doubt that I was nearly as enthusiastic as I should have been. Ron seemed hurt, I recall, that I had refused his invitation. He refused to believe that I hadn't minded staying at the Dursleys' and wouldn't let up until Hermione hit him on the arm, rather hard. Hermione soon picked up on that habit and every time she thought that he was pushing me too hard or saying something he shouldn't have been, she would hit him.

The rest of the trip was spent in quiet conversation, both were careful to avoid topics about how I must have looked, for which I was grateful.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Leaning back in his chair Harry let out a soft sigh. This wasn't fun. He needed to find something else to do. The clock on the wall said that it was nearly 11:30.

After putting all of the papers into the folder he had made for them, Harry shrunk them to pocket sized and slipped them into the back pocket of his pants. The quill and ink were put back in their proper places. The last thing to be put away was the box of letters. It was funny how happy memories could provoke such dark thoughts. Harry glanced at the scar on his wrist then groaned. "NO!" he thought fiercely, "I will not think about that until I have to. The time hasn't come yet, and perhaps it won't until come until late in the school year. At very least it won't be today." The sleeves of his sweater were pulled to the center of his palms and he left his office muttering the spells to activate the warding spells on the room.

Harry walked to the suite he shared with Sev. The dungeons seemed darker today then they had in a long time. "Damn, this is not good." When the stones in the wall changed their pattern slightly Harry muttered the password (Welches geht in , muß erscheinenden) and went in. There was a fire burning brightly "Thank the gods!" and Harry sank to the ground in front of it. Immediately he was lost in thought as he stared at the orange and red flames licking the wood that never had to be replaced.

It wasn't until Harry felt strong arms warp around his shoulders that Harry looked up. "Hullo, Sev." Harry leaned back and rested his head on Severus' shoulder.

"Thinking about what happened" the question was murmured softly in his ear.

"Mmhmm."

Sev's strong fingers gently rubbed Harry's arms soothingly. Harry sighed in contentment and turned his head so his nose was buried between Sev's neck and shoulder. The long hair from the older man brushed his face as Sev bent his head. "You smell like you've been in your lab."

"I have been." Pale hands sought Harry's. Gently Sev rubbed and warmed Harry's hands. The right was splattered with ink. Sev smiled softly and kissed Harry's forehead. "Are you hungry? It's past noon."

"No. I just want to stay here."

"Alright, we can do that." Sev continued to hold Harry's hands, but settled more comfortably behind him. Now he had one leg on either side of Harry and could hold him properly. It was times like this that Sev was most content and happy. Before he had Harry nothing had really been stable in his life except Hogwarts.

After a few minutes Harry kissed Sev's neck softly. "Love you."

"Mmm, I love you too, Harry."

"We can go eat now. You're hungry."

"No, no, I'm fine. I'll wait until you're ready."

"You spent all morning in your lab. You're always hungry after you work in your lab for so long. Although I'm not too sure why, you don't actually work in there." Harry teased gently. He received a light slap for his remark.

"Oh hush. I work hard and you know it."

"Yes, I know it."

"Then why do you make comments like that?"

Harry chuckled softly and sat up, "because I like to hear you explain your reasons to me."

Sev groaned and got to his feet before offering his hands down to Harry, "C'mon, I'm hungry now."

"You're always hungry." Harry took them anyway, and got to his feet.

"Indulge me."

"Only if you indulge me later."

"Perhaps, perhaps," was the chuckled reply. Harry grinned at Sev's answer. He liked the sound of Sev laughing. Sev wasn't one to laugh overly often.

As the two men walked to the Great Hall Harry asked, "Are you ready for the students to get here?"

"Am I ready for the brats you mean?"

"Careful. I was one of those 'brats.'"

"What'd you mean you WERE one, you still ARE one!"

"I am not." Harry pouted jokingly, "I'm gonna tell my daddy on you. And he'll get you fired! He's on the board of advisors, remember?"

Sev smirked. "Like I said, you still are one."

Harry laughed. "Well, anyway, are you ready for the rest of the brats to get here?"

"Not entirely. Everything is all prepared, but I still dislike having all of them here. They're so loud and noisy. Always sneaking about the castle after they should be in bed. Not to mention the fact that they're messy and they make so many mistakes. I pray to the Gods above that at least one of the first years will be able to brew a proper potion."

"Maybe you make them nervous," Harry suggested for the thousandth time.

"I try to do that. If they can create a proper potion under pressure then they will be able to do it any other time. It makes them stronger." It was the same reply that Harry always got.

"Oy, stronger! Everything is about making them stronger people."

"Well, it worked for you didn't it?"

"How would you know if it worked for me?"

"I don't, but I was hoping that you'd tell me where and why you disappeared for five years."

"Not now, Sev, not now. Soon, I promise. I'll write. I'll tell you. You'll know, but not now." Harry took his lovers hand and gently kissed the back of it. "I promise," he added softly.

Severus turned to face Harry. Gently he cupped the younger man's face and forced him to look up. "I know you do. It's just that you've been promising me the same thing for years now. I'm getting impatient, but I'll wait." With that said he kissed Harry softly.

Harry's inward groan had nothing to do with Sev's kiss; it was because he knew that he owed Sev an explanation, but it was so hard. So much had happened during those five years. It was during those five years that he had discovered so many things. "Soon, love, soon. Now let's go eat." Both men went to their places in the hall and had their meal in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

When lunch was over they listened to the last few announcements given by Hermione. They were the usual start of term announcements made for the teachers before the students got there. It was always the same boring dribble: who's patrolling which nights for students and where, students with special problems that the teachers should be aware of but not make a fuss over unless it was called for, the teachers own time tables so they would know where each student was supposed to be and who they would have when. Any other number of announcements that were mostly pre-student dribble.

The minute Hermione was done both men when back to the rooms in the Dungeons. Sev murmured the password and the walls let them through, and went directly to his lab with a mumbled "I've got to finish a couple potions for Poppy by tomorrow."

As the door snapped shut behind Sev, Harry took a seat on the couch and pulled out a book he was reading. Harry became so engrossed in the book that he didn't realize that it had grown late until Sev kissed him on the top of the head. "Dinner time, love. The students'll be here by the time I get to the infirmary and back to the Great Hall." Harry looked up at Sev and smiled, the man always looked more relaxed after he'd been in his lab working.

Harry stuck a bookmark between the pages of his book and closed it gently before softly setting it on the table next to the couch. "Let's go then." Together Sev and Harry walked to the infirmary then to Sev's office. They followed the passage from there to the Anti-Chamber of the Great Hall. Together they slipped into their seats at the long head table. The Sorting Ceremony had already begun. By the time it was over the relaxed, happy, look was completely gone from Sev's face. He glared at all the students, but Harry knew that he was happy they were here.

Dinner came to a close and Hermione made her announcements to the students. Nearly everyone left as a group, but a few came to the head table to greet their professors. "Evening Professor Andrews," they said to Harry, "I'll see you in class tomorrow." Harry waved to the Head Girl and got up to leave with Sev.

The students left, and Harry and Sev went to their room. Both of them striped down to their boxer. Sev's were plain black silk, like he always wore, Harry noted. Sev climbed all the way to the back of the bed, so he was nearly against the wall and Harry followed. Long arms wrapped around Harry from behind. "Night Harry."

"Night.'" Both men were silent as they thought. Harry's mind went over everything he'd written earlier. He knew that it was all the truth, but it was so dark. "Was my life really so black? Everyone thought that I led the light life. I suppose it just goes to show you, there really is no black and white in the world. Only shades of gray, some lighter and some darker. Even the angel has to have some dark or he wouldn't be able to appreciate the light in which he lives." Eventually Sev's breathing became regular against Harry's back and Harry was able to sleep as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~