Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Another Life ❯ Star Light, Star Bright ( Chapter 6 )

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

It always started nice. Sitting in a field, staring over a vast ocean, exploring a forest… But soon enough, it always twisted until he barely knew who he was anymore. He would scream and kick and cry and fight, but he was always helpless in the face of his nightmares, just as helpless as he was in the waking hours.

He couldn’t run fast enough when Vernon chased him.

He couldn’t get away when Vernon grabbed him.

He couldn’t dodge when Vernon hit him.

He couldn’t escape when Vernon broke him.

Over and over and over, no matter where in the dreamscape he went, it never stopped. Vernon always found him and he awoke trembling and crying. He hated himself for being so weak that he let the big muggle hurt him. He hated being hurt and crying and keeping Snape awake and so many other things that he just wanted to scream until he died. And oh, did he ever want to die…

Snape would never forgive him if he did, and that’s why he was still alive.

It wasn’t so much that Harry cared for the older man, more that he needed him and his approval. He needed it, longed for it, would die for it. Snape didn’t expect him to bounce back or to be perfect. All Snape expected was an annoyance and as long as Harry didn’t annoy him, he had already pleased the man. Harry wanted desperately to please someone, anyone, without the fear of rejection. Snape had rejected him years ago, and so he was safe.

Far safer than sleeping, anyway. Vernon had found him so quickly this time.

Before Vernon could crush his throat, he was shaken awake. Snape was there, as he had been every time since his arrival, and Harry clung to him, shuddering as he recovered from the dream. The older man held him, rocked him back and forth as he murmured softly to him. Harry could make nothing of the words, but they helped him as much as the hand rubbing his back and cupped to the back of his head. He had needed this so very badly and hadn’t even known before it was offered to him.

Snape was very good at calming him. As Harry drifted back to sleep, calming draught settling in his stomach, the older man laid him back and pulled the sheets over him, pausing to brush a few black bangs from his face. The bruises and cuts were gone, replaced with planes of seamless pale skin. He was beginning to look like Harry Potter again. Skinny, messy haired, broken Harry Potter. Snape wondered why it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

As he smoothed a few more strands from the boy’s forehead, he idly noticed he needed a hair cut. The shaggy bangs were past his nose now and there was a fringe over his ears. Miraculous hair growth, actually. Snape theorized it had something to do with the amount of sheer magic the boy oozed unconsciously.

A sudden pain struck up his arm as a location was firmly implanted into his mind. He quickly left the bedroom and headed down to Dumbledore’s office. The boy could not be left alone.

“Albus,” he said immediately, clutching at the mark as another wave of pain coursed through him. “Find Lupin. Have him stay with Potter. I have to go.”

The Headmaster gave a nod and Snape left the school.

He sat, not in front of the fire as he’d like to, but within cold stone that masqueraded as a throne. He wondered how he had ever thought it comfortable. At least Nagini, who was wrapped up over his feet, gave him some measure of warmth. He listened as she hissed about how her evening hunt had gone while he waited for the others to arrive.

Narcissa was first, apparating to his side. She gave him a bow in greeting and he inclined his head.

“Narcissa, you look better rested today,” Lord Voldemort said.

“My son has taken good care of me,” she replied with a soft smile.

“Black?”

“He is waiting, my Lord.”

He turned back to Nagini, who pitched into a spiel about the different tastes of different rodents. Few would ever realize how chatty snakes could be when they knew someone was listening.

At last, the arrival he was waiting for. Severus Snape aparated into the dungeon. He stepped forward and knelt in front of the Dark Lord.

“Rise,” murmured Lord Voldemort quietly. Snape did so, meeting his lord’s eyes with concealed hesitance. He had realized that he and Malfoy were the only ones there. Lord Voldemort let him suffer a few minutes of silence before getting up.

“Come,” he said simply, stepping back from the throne and walking off. Snape hesitated only a moment before following, falling in step with Narcissa. He gave the woman a glance, but didn’t dare say anything. She was almost amused. When they reached the door, Voldemort opened it and stepped through. The others followed without a word.

Snape stopped dead in the doorway. He was quiet for exactly one second.

“What the bloody hell?”

Standing on the other side of the room, back leaned against the wall and arms folded over his chest, was Sirius Black, who looked just as shocked as he did.

“You’re dead,” Snape muttered with a blink. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I don’t really have the details on why I’m not,” Sirius shot back, scowling.

“That would be my doing,” said Narcissa, her lips quirking at the tension between the two men. “I called him back.”

“How?” Both men glared at each other after the question had been thrown by both.

“As a blood relative,” she began, still smirking with amusement, “I already had a connection with my dear cousin. It was only a matter of finding his soul and binding it to mine.”

“And the body?” Snape wondered.

“His was never destroyed, just put in a kind of stasis.”

“I see.” The Potions Master didn’t look any happier. Lord Voldemort motioned for him to sit as he did so. The room had four chairs, soon filled by the four adults, surrounding a small table, and a cosy fire burning in the corner. The rest of it was starkly bare, not even a rug on the floor.

“There are a great many questions on your minds,” Lord Voldemort began quietly, and no one dared voice the sarcastic replies to his statement. “This meeting is, predictably, about Harry Potter.”

“I already told you I wouldn’t help you hurt him!” Sirius ground out. Narcissa cuffed him sharply on the back of the head.

“Be quiet, Cousin!”

“Yes, Mr. Black, do keep your tongue,” Lord Voldemort murmured with amusement. The animagas glares at him. “Certain information has come to light regarding Potter that makes my harming him next to impossible.”

The three could just barely contain their sudden surprise. Lord Voldemort pulled out an old envelope and set it down on the table between them.

“This was sent to me seventeen years ago, spelled to arrive one week ago in the sender was no longer living.”

Slowly, he turned it over and in careful script in the corner was the name and address of Lily Potter. They stared at it. Sirius reached out to pick it up, only to drop the thing again as it burned his fingers.

“The hell would she have to say to you!”

Lord Voldemort gave him a sharp look. “As amusing as your outright defiance of me is, do keep it restrained.”

Sirius simply glared back, but he was comforted to see slight fear in his eyes. Lord Voldemort drew back his sleeve and showed the simple ring on his finger.

“The letter was enchanted so that only one wearing this ring would be able to read it.”

“How extraordinary,” Narcissa said quietly.

“How did you come to own the ring, my Lord?” Snape wondered, though his voice held back most of his curiosity.

“It is part of a set, actually,” the Dark Lord said absently as he settled back in his chair, gazing at the silver band. “As to why I have it…It was because she and I were lovers.”

Sirius’s chair slammed back as he jumped to his feet. “LIAR!”

Snape and Narcissa didn’t know what shocked them the most: the affair or Sirius’s gall. Voldemort regarded Sirius coldly.

“Believe what you want,” he hissed as he picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter. His eyes shot back to the elegant writing he knew better than his own and he slowly began to read. Sirius stayed standing as he listened, shaking his head in nonverbal denials with each word. Snape and Narcissa were silent, but Narcissa was remembering the words the master had said to her: ‘What is a man that can kill the woman he loves?’ And she suddenly realized with cold clarity what he meant.

“…Harry is your son.”

“NO!” Sirius yelled. “It isn’t true! He can’t be!”

“Believe me, Mr. Black,” Voldemort muttered quietly. “I have been trying to tell myself the same thing.”

“This is a trick…some sick joke…It can’t be…”

Snape almost felt sorry for the dog man, but he was a little more busy thinking about the new revelation. Real or not, it would definitely make things harder on his charge. He watched Voldemort, trying to find the slightest hint of deception, but found nothing.

“Wait.” Sirius’s voice held a sudden suspicion as he stared at the letter. “That’s addressed to Tom Riddle. There was a professor our last year with that name…This letter wasn’t for you, it was his! I knew Lily had a thing for that guy, but she still married James.”

“How observant,” Voldemort said carefully as he stood. Sirius took a step back, as if he expected to be cursed. The Dark Lord reached into his robes and extracted a photograph before handing it over. Sirius watched him with distrust as he took it and glanced at it. It was a simple snapshot, made by a muggle camera, as it wasn’t moving at all. The two in the photo were smiling cheerfully. The man had his arms around the woman’s shoulders and his head was set beside hers. She was turned slightly to him and her dainty hands settled upon his. Sirius felt like swearing. It was the young, freshly graduated Lily Potter in Professor Riddle’s arms.

“What does this prove, except that they were together for a while?” Sirius muttered, lifting his eyes.

“Simple.” The Dark Lord’s crimson eyes narrowed dangerously. “I looked very different when I was that young.”

There was a silence. Even Narcissa hadn’t made the connection during her schooling. Abruptly Snape’s eyes widened.

“The absences.”

All eyes settled on him, but he didn’t notice.

“Professor Riddle was always disappearing for weeks and came back exhausted.” His eyes were bright as he put it all into place. “They were too random for him to be a werewolf and I heard him talking to one of the others about ‘missing time’… Of course. It was during out school years that the Death Eater attacks became more violent.”

“I thought you would be the first,” Voldemort said quietly. He took the photo back from Sirius and sat back down. “You are correct. I was leading my followers and all the while teaching youngsters the art of protecting themselves.”

“You sick bastard,” Sirius whispered.

“Yes,” replied the Dark Lord. "The problem being...that I had no knowledge of it."

“This is wrong…”

“I don’t care.”

“Please, don’t do this…”

Her fingers felt deliciously good in his hair, gently caressing the strands as her nails lightly scratched his scalp. The curves of her body fit so perfectly against his, as if they had been molded just for him. Her breath was quick despite her determination and he could feel it against his face, hot and promising.

“Please no… I’m your teacher, Miss Evans, there are rules-”

“Dash the rules,” she whispered fervently back and suddenly her lips had captured his and his arms were wrapped about her. Such a spark ran through him, and by Merlin did he love it. Love her. This beautiful woman who presented herself so fully for the taking, not innocent to the dangers of the world but instead fighting against them with all of her strength. This gutsy red haired girl that had strode right into his office and planted herself in his lap with her sudden declaration of love. This child…

He pushed her away. “No, Lillian. We can’t.”

“I love you, Thomas,” she growled back, but he saw the hesitance in her gaze, saw the rejection she felt. “I don’t care if anyone finds out. I’ll be graduating in two months.”

“I’m old enough to be your father,” he whispered, lowering his gaze. Soft hands rose and came to his cheeks, enveloping them in comforting warmth as she lifted his head.

“I don’t care,” she murmured so softly, her face so very close to his. “Love is beyond age. Do you love me, Thomas?”

And as he gazed into her eyes, he knew the full truth of the matter.

“Yes, Lillian. I do.”

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