Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Deceptions Run Deep ❯ Those first Few Days ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!!!! I do not condone her treatment of Severus Snape, nor do I condone her treatment of Draco Malfoy. Therefore I write everything AU after OotP…

 

Warning: will contain SLASH!!! And yummy scenes if I can talk to certain people…

 

Pairings: HP/DM, RL/SS(eventually)

 

Summary: This is an answer to the Severitus challenge… at least my version… no offense is meant if it resembles in any way anyone else's fics….

Harry is at the Dursleys after Sirius's death, and they aren't treating him TOO badly… Ron and Hermione get worried when he isn't answering all of their letters and is vague on points… they contact Dumbledore, who asks Severus to check up on him. Of course, all through this, Harry's finding things out about himself… like he doesn't need glasses anymore… read on to see what happens

 

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Harry Potter sat in his room in 4 Privet Drive, staring out his barred window at the just past full moon, wondering idly how Remus was doing. He sighed and turned away from the window, looking at the devastation that was his room. He hadn't bothered cleaning it up at all, not believing anyone would come, and knowing the Dursleys wouldn't care. He'd been locked in here two out of every three days, minimum food through the cat flap and twice let out to the bathroom.

 

The third day was different. They let him out, made him do chores, let him do his homework for an hour, then made him write to the Order. He hated that, lying to his friends, but if he didn't, he'd get beaten long before they could get there to help. He was only allowed to answer two letters every time he was out, one from Ron or Hermione, and one from the Order. Thankfully they didn't read the letters sent to him, just the replies. He kept them full of homework talk and stupid things, asking how the twins were (Dudley paled every time they were mentioned, even now). He was a prisoner.

 

~*~

 

Ron opened up his latest letter from Harry (actually, it was a joint letter, once they'd figured out he could only answer one of them).

 

Dear Ron,

 

I'm fine, really… finally finished the Potions homework Hermione! Thanks for sending along the books and parchment. The only light in a dull life, believe me. In fact, I should be done with all the homework in a few days.

 

I hope your mum isn't too mad at the twins for their latest prank (personally, I think Black's mum deserved it), and that she'll be polite if she asks for me to stay again. Maybe that old saying might be true… You catch more flies with honey…

 

Anyway, the Dursleys are calling me for lunch; I'll owl you in a couple days…

 

Love,

Harry

 

 

Ron could tell that there was something wrong. Harry, at least before this summer, had never answered letters like this. This was someone else. This person was so…. polite. Hermione, though, wasn't so distrustful.

 

“He's still getting over Sirius, Ron. You can't expect him to be the same! He's probably still in shock. Give him more time,” she'd said, nodding her head as if to say that that was the end of the argument. But Ron wasn't convinced. So, he wrote a letter to Professor Albus Dumbledore, who had always helped Harry before. Little did he know, Albus Dumbledore would do nothing to help The-Boy-Who-Lived this time.

 

 

~*~

 

Albus read Ronald Weasley's letter with a hint of glee; Harry was becoming pliant, at least from what he could tell from the letters enclosed. Perfect.

 

“Albus, I'm off to my home, I'll be back in three weeks,” Severus said, poking his head into the office door. Albus nodded good-naturedly.

 

“Indeed, have a nice time, my boy. I'll see you on your return.” Severus noticed the letter on the desk, obviously, because he stepped inside.

 

“One of Potter's friends wrote you, Albus?” he asked, a slight sneer on his face. Albus nodded.

 

“Mr. Weasley. He says that young Harry is behaving oddly. He expressed concern, and asked me for advice.”

 

“And what advice will you give him?”

 

“None at all! Harry's behavior is exactly what we need.”

 

“What on earth do you mean? If the boy is behaving strangely…”

 

“Severus, if he is meek and subdued, he will be pliable and respectful.”

 

“He'll also be a shell, but whatever, Albus.” Albus sighed, and then looked up, his twinkle back. He had an idea. “I don't like that look Albus.”

 

“I'm afraid your vacation will have to be cut short, Severus. I want you to go check on Harry. Let me know how he's feeling. That will alleviate Ronald's fears about his treatment.”

 

“Sometimes I hate you, Albus.” Severus spun on his heel, cloak swirling. When he left, Albus began to laugh, at first a soft chuckle, growing into a belly laugh, ending in a mad cackle.

 

~*~

 

Harry couldn't believe his luck. He'd done something immeasurably stupid; he'd talked back to Uncle Vernon. The punishment? He was locked to the floor by the manacle they'd installed while he was at school. He couldn't believe he'd done that! And now there was no way for him to get out of this room. He didn't get food, and he wasn't let out to go to the bathroom either. The room, once fastidiously clean, now smelled horrible, and he could imagine he smelled worse.

 

He could smell the food wafting up the stairs, and he couldn't help his stomach rumbling. He was so hungry, but so bored. He didn't even have Hedwig to talk to anymore. When they locked him in, they locked her in the cupboard, He'd heard her anxious hoots and shriek for a few days before they stopped completely. He feared she was dead. His things had all been burned, he knew; he'd smelled the burning leather of the books. Thankfully his wand was under the floorboards, where none of them could reach.

 

He leaned back against the bed, now the only furniture in the room, equipped with the mattress from the cupboard and a sheet. It was the farthest he could get from the floor, and even then he had to sleep in an awkward position. He never thought it would get this bad.

~*~

 

Severus Apparated to Little Whinging, remembering the general area that Lily's sister lived in. When he got to the right street, he found he'd forgotten the house number. Rather than go knocking on doors, he spelled himself invisible and eavesdropped on the inhabitants of the houses. What he heard at the first one was normal, if Mugglish talk, so he moved on. It was dinner time, so most everyone was home.

 

When he reached Number 3, he heard a disturbing conversation.

 

“You know Jim, the Dursley's nephew hasn't been out in a few days. Do you think he's sick?”

 

“That boy? Sick? No, he's healthy as an ox. But I have overheard their son talking to his friends about his worthless cousin. I think maybe something's happened, but we can't just go and ask. They really are nice people, if a bit strange.” Severus's blood turned cold at the insinuation of abuse. His own parents hadn't been the best, and he could well remember the horrors that were heaped upon him. He only hoped that the boy wasn't suffering too- wait, this was Potter. He was probably being waited on hand and foot.

 

He moved to the next house, and saw Petunia Dursley, her husband, and her son, sitting at table. There was no sign of Potter. `Probably eating upstairs like a king.' He moved around the back of the house, looking up at the windows, and saw one that was barred and boarded over. He also saw charred earth in the center of the lawn, along with some singed white feathers on the grass. Potter's owl was a snowy.

 

He waited for the family to finish dinner, thinking they'd go up to fawn over the Golden Boy, but they settled into the sitting room and began watching television. He heard nothing but the television for a few minutes, then he heard a soft call.

 

“Please! Can I have something to eat? I haven't had anything to eat or drink in days! Please!” The television was turned up, drowning out the cries. Severus quickly got into the house through the kitchen and made his way up the stairs, and saw a door with five locks and a cat flap. All the locks were set on the outside, and the cat flap was locked as well. Weak calls still came through the hollow wooden door, and he found a small part of him reaching out to the boy locked within. Surely Albus couldn't mean this abuse to be a good thing.

 

“Potter. I need you to listen to me. Keep quiet, I'm coming in to get you.” The speech stopped, and he heard the soft rattle of a chain.

 

“Who's there?”

 

“Just keep silent. I'm coming in. Alohamora!” The locks, all six, clicked open and he pushed the door ajar. He immediately covered his nose and mouth at the smell coming from the bedroom, then placed a bubble-head charm on himself so he could breathe. Once inside the room, he saw Potter, wearing what could barely be called rags, and sporting a manacle attached to the floor.

 

“Professor?” Potter was squinting, his glasses long gone, and Severus felt ble rise in his throat at the treatment of a child, even this one.

 

“Yes, Potter. I need to get you out of here before they realize I'm here.”

“You're helping me?”

 

“I was sent to check on you, and I can't leave you here. Can you stand? Alohamora.” Again, the lock came undone and the manacle fell from his thin wrist, revealing deep welts. “Come now, where are your things?”

 

“They burned them. Sir, have you seen Hedwig? Did she get away?”

 

“I'm sorry Potter, but I found singed feathers in the backyard. Do you have your wand?” Potter slipped through an almost impossible gap between bed and floor and came out clutching his wand and a picture of his parents.

 

“I'm ready; the rest was in my trunk.” Severus nodded and conjured some clothing for the boy, who was shivering slightly. “Thank you, sir.” He stood ready to leave, and Severus took hold of his arm.

 

“Close your eyes Potter; we're traveling a long way.” He Apparated away with a soft pop, barely above a whisper. When they landed, Potter staggered, and landed on the ground, throwing up bile and then dry-heaving. Severus himself wasn't too steady on his feet, but he'd done it before, so it wasn't as bad.

 

“Thanks… for the warning… Professor,” Potter said weakly, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes squinting blearily in the late afternoon sun.

 

“Always, Potter. We have a bit of a walk. Are you up to it?”

 

“Yes, sir. I suppose so.” Potter stood, and then swayed, the tree next to him the only thing keeping him upright. “No, sir, I'm not. I'm sorry, sir.” This Potter was much different than the one at Hogwarts; Gryffindor Potter was loud, angry, disrespectful. This Potter, he was quiet, subservient, and almost obnoxiously respectful.

 

“One moment.” He pulled a Replenishing Potion out of the belt around his waist, followed by a Nutrient Potion. He handed the latter to Potter first, making sure the boy drank it, followed by the blue potion. Potter's eyes became a little clearer, and he stood straighter, as the potions moved through his body. “Do you think you can make it now, Potter?”

 

“I'll go as far as I can, sir. I'm still not 100%.” Potter stepped forward, wobbled slightly, and then steadied. Satisfied for the moment, Severus led him down the path through the forest. After about an hour, the potions began to wear off, which was highly unusual, so he calmly put an arm under the boy's shoulders and another under his knees, lifting him into the air. Potter flailed for a moment, before hissing in pain, and then settling.

 

About another half hour later, they reached a clearing, and he muttered a few words in German, making a large house appear out of thin air. Potter gasped; it was rather large and magnificent after all.

 

“Welcome to Prince Manor, Potter.”