Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Another Life ❯ Humpty Dumpty ( Chapter 4 )

Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, Angst, DARK themes, Backstabbing, Incest, Yuri/Fem-slash, and other various nastiness. Hard R rating.
Disclaimer: Ain't mine.

Everything happened as a blur. He was confused and numb and nothing made sense. His memories were in a jumble of sounds and images. Narcissa took him away from the Ministry and to her home. He only recognized it when they got inside and she sat in him front of the fire. He hadn’t realized he was shivering until the warmth made his limbs tingle. Narcissa ordered the house elves to ready a room and feast. They scurried to do her bidding.

When everything finally settled down, Narcissa placed a warm mug in his hands and sat across from him. He stared at her dumbly as he sipped the sweet, dark liquid. Hot chocolate, he realized belatedly.

“You’re probably very confused,” she said suddenly. He looked over her face and nodded a bit.

“Numb,” he croaked out. Was that raspy sound really his voice?

“That’s to be expected. You’ve been caught between life and death for months now.”

He only blinked owlishly. There wasn’t enough coherency in his mind to do much else.

“I extracted you from the veil for a very simple reason,” she began. He could see that she was still very much tired from the ordeal. “My Lord wished it.”

That did it. As if a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed over him, he was suddenly and horribly awake. He jutted out of the seat and stumbled a step as he shouted at her.

“I won’t let that slimy bastard use me against Harry-!“

“Oh, shut up, Cousin,” Narcissa interrupted, “It’s not that bad.”

“Like hell it isn’t!”

“He doesn’t want to kill the boy!”

He blinked, stared, then sat back down. “What?”

“Other factors have come into play,” Narcissa hissed at him with irritation. “Originally, yes, we were going to use you as bait to bring the boy in, but now Potter is not to be harmed in any way.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been made privy to that secret, Sirius.”

He sank back into the chair, blue eyes down cast. Narcissa rubbed her temples.

“Something has happened to the Lord,” she began quietly. “He’s changing. Calming. It’s Potter’s doing, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know how or why.”

“Am I a prisoner?”

“For now.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You have free reign of the manor, as long as my son is left unharmed. Outside of that, you are not to leave this property.”

He frowned at her, face twisting with mistrust. “Why am I being treated this way?”

“Simple. My Lord has deemed you still useful in a fully unmolested state.”

“I won’t do anything to endanger Harry.”

“I know that.”

There was a pregnant pause between them.

“Actually, I beginning to think he won’t either.”

Snape was startled by a sudden, weak little sound that crept around his quarters. He poked his head out of the lab and his eyes dropped onto the boy sitting near. Harry’s head swayed from side to side as his hand tapped on his knee. The book of nursery rhymes was resting in his lap as it had for the past few days. And barely audible was the boy’s little hum as he ran his finger under the words on the page. It wasn’t talking, but it was a good sign that Harry would regain his voice fully.

He faintly recognized the tune and found himself mouthing the silly words. His mother had sung the same song as a lullaby.

“…pocket full of rye; four and twenty blackbirds…”

The humming stopped and Harry looked up with such a particular look on his face. Snape flushed a little as he realized he’d begun quietly singing along. The little smile that spread over Harry’s face was nearly worth it. Just to spite him, Snape continued singing the little ditty softly as he escaped back into the lab.

That night, Harry had his nightmares, but it was easier for Snape to soothe him into a deeper sleep. He wondered idly, as he sat down at the kitchenette’s bar with a cup of warm tea, if this was what it felt like to be a father.

The days came and went with a comfortable normality. Harry read (he moved onto other books in Snape’s collection, but kept coming back to his nursery rhymes before bed) as Snape brewed. The rooms were always scented by strange potions, but Harry didn’t mind. It was almost pleasant after the scent of…

The book fell from his hands as he stared ahead. Unwilling to stay away, memories filled his mind. The scent of cleaning solution as he rubbed his hands raw cleaning. Petunia’s triumphant tone as she found a speck of dust and made him do it all over again. Retching in the corner of his room and desperately cleaning it, can’t let Petunia see it, can’t let Dudley see it, can’t let them tell Ver-

He was only aware of the pathetic whimpers leaving him until he heard them muffled against the black cloth of Snape’s robes. The Potions Master held him firmly with one arm around his back, the other petting through his shaggy hair. Harry clutched to him, muttering almost soundlessly into that heavy cloth, his eyes wide as he begged for Vernon to forgive him, he was sorry, didn’t mean to mess up, didn’t mean to be a failure, didn’t mean to be useless, didn’t mean-

“He doesn’t deserve your apologies,” Snape murmured gently in his ear. Harry only held him tighter. “That man was an abomination, Harry. A monster. Not you. Never you…”

He wanted to believe it. He wanted so badly to think he was worth something. He wanted the pain to go away and to be happy and to be loved and he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted to never be alone again-

“You won’t be alone,” promised Snape so vehemently, “Never again, Harry. Never.”

And oh Merlin, he hated himself for crying again. He took every comfort Snape was willing to give him, cried into his robes and told him everything, everything, because he couldn’t keep it in anymore, because it hurt so bad and he needed someone to know something, anything, everything, because then it might be okay…

And when his voice trailed off, became barely the twitch of lips and then died completely, Snape gathered him into his arms, so much stronger than he could ever be, and carried him into his room. He tucked him into bed and gave him a sweet tasting potion that made him so very relaxed and calm. Snape sat down on the bed beside him, pitch black eyes settling on Harry’s face. He couldn’t pinpoint when, but sometime during the days of Harry’s stay, the boy had become more than just a nuisance, more than just another student. Snape knew he was now more than bound to keep the boy safe. He would do it willingly.

Harry’s nightmares came fast and violent, but Snape knew what to do.

His head felt clearer than in years. He wasn’t sure why or what had changed, but the haze that he had mistaken for hate was lifting from him. His thoughts were less jumbled, less obsessive over one single thing: Revenge on Harry Potter.

Lord Voldemort stared at the mirror. He had done so many times over the years, but was now entranced by his own reflection. Years ago, that mirror had shown a young man, glorious in his perfection. A family heirloom from his mother. Slowly, the image had changed as he did, becoming the snake like visage that he now wore on the outside. Now, the image was slowly reverting back.

It was an odd mirror, a special one. Even before his outside appearance became the snake, this mirror showed it. And now, as he was fully thus, it was changing back into the young, fully human man he had once been. He was not fully sure why.

“My Lord?”

He glanced at the door to see a tall, blonde woman staring back at him. Beckoning her forward, he shot the guard a dark look and was pleased when the man scampered out and shut the door behind him. Narcissa sat down in the chair across from him.

“Were you successful?” Lord Voldemort asked.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Results?”

“He is fully functional and will be ready within days for anything you have planned.”

He nodded before narrowing his eyes. “You look ill, Narcissa.”

“Exhaustion, my Lord,” she replied quietly and indeed she did look tired. Her eyes were darkly rimmed and her face pale. A slight tremor was just barely noticeable. “I will be recovered with a few days rest.”

“Good. Do rest.”

She watched him as he turned his attention away from her, falling into thought. He did this often now, one of the many small changes that were overcoming her lord. He was becoming calmer, softer… more sane. Narcissa would never entertain thoughts of her lord’s insanity, but it was as plain to her sometimes as the sunlight in the day. Very little did it show up now. Instead, he looked more worn and tired. Much more approachable.

“Narcissa,” he called quietly.

“Yes, my Lord?”

Lord Voldemort looked at her, pinning her down with that crimson gaze. Was the brown speckled through them her imagination?

“What is a man that can kill the woman he loves?”

She stared at him, startled. “I’m not sure I understand the question, my Lord.”

“Think on it and return to me only when you have an answer,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “That will be the extent of your rest.”

She got up and bowed her head. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Then she left. Lord Voldemort stated into the fire silently for the rest of the night.

When Remus Lupin arrived at Snape’s door, he was surprised to be viciously shushed before the other man stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

“Severus, what-“

“Be quiet, you idiot!” Snape hissed, glancing back at the door. The normal darkness under his eyes had multiplied with days of sleepless nights. He was paler than ever and so very tired. Remus couldn’t help feel sorry for him, even as he found himself dragged out of the dungeons.

“That boy has barely slept a solid hour in four days,” the dark man snapped, his thin fingers gripping Remus' arm painfully tight. “You had to arrive in the dark hours, didn’t you, Lupin?”

“Sorry,” wince, glance at that tight hand, “Anything I can do?”

“Oh, many things, but I doubt you’d like joining Black anytime soon… I’m this close to asking Poppy to prescribe nightly doses of a sleeping draught, damn the addiction!”

Remus couldn’t help his wince at his deceased friend’s name. Snape finally let go of him when they reached the front entrance. He sagged up against one wall, arms folded across his chest. It should have made him look intimidating as it usually did, but this time, he looked more haggard than anything else.

“Severus, are you all right?” Remus asked quietly. He regretted it when Snape glared at him, but the other man was too tired to really do much more than that.

“I’m fine. I’ve just lost sleep.”

“A lot of sleep.”

Another glare. “Get on with what you want, Lupin.”

“I came to see how Harry was doing,” Remus said quietly, itching at his arm. “We’ve worried about him.”

“When has anyone not worried about that damned boy?” Snape muttered darkly. He ran a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face with a grimace.

“The last time I visited, he looked like he was recovering well…”

“He was teetering on the brink then, Lupin,” Snape replied. “Four days ago, he broke down.”

“Is he all right?” asked Remus quickly, hazel eyes filling with worry.

“When he’s awake…”

“And when he’s asleep?”

“When he’s asleep, his nightmares are violent enough to injure himself.”

Both men went quiet.

“Professor Riddle, I want to learn more.” Her eyes were determined and fiery as ever, but directed at him, they were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He knew it was wrong, this strange infatuation he had with Lily Evans, a student, a girl far his junior…He knew it was wrong, but even as he hid these feelings, he could not stop feeling them.

“I was not aware that Potion Mistresses needed to be experts ad defense,” he replied quietly, cautiously.

“I can’t brew potions if I’m dead, Professor.” She folded her arms over her chest. She was always so strong… “The spells I’ve learned in class aren’t enough. I want to know I’m safe.”

It was a very sad thing when children didn’t know they were safe, but the sad truth of it all was that they weren’t. The phantom Dark Lord was terrorizing the country and even he, Tom Riddle, didn’t feel secure. Far too many times had he awaken somewhere he did not remember going to…and the dreams…He shook that off.

“I will arrange it with the Headmaster,” he promised her. At once, her face brightened. Her eyes glittered as she smiled at him and he knew that he was falling in love with that vivacious little girl, no matter how hard he fought it. He would never tell her, never hold her, never, never, never, but that was all right. If teaching her protection was all he could offer, he would do it and do it to the best of his abilities.

“Thank you,” she said and he wondered if the air really did suddenly taste of honey or if it were simply him. She went to the door, pausing to glance back over her shoulder. It looked like she was about to say something, but she didn’t. Finally, she simply smiled and went on her way. He sat down at the desk and stared after her.

Conditions Met:
1. Voldemort must be Harry's father
3. Sirius comes back