Hopeless Delusions (chapter 2)
Many thanks to hermitknut for the beta. She's a star! And thanks also to everyone who reviewed! -Hands out cookies- ^^
Chapter 2 - Defying Expectations
Harry shivered miserably as he lay huddled between two low-standing bushes to the side of the park. He really couldn’t say why he’d returned to Little Whinging, Surrey, aside from the fact that he really didn’t know where else to go. Catching the Knight Bus had been a risky move, but Harry had wanted to get as far away from Lucius as quickly as possible and muggle transportation was simply too slow. Besides, the blond would never expect his pet to risk being found in such a state by those who might recognise him. Malfoy would likely assume that he had travelled by foot or muggle bus. At least that means he should only search nearby, and not all the way out in Surrey, he consoled himself. And anyway, it was not as though a Malfoy would deign to turn their attention to such grubby transportation as that raucous vehicle. He probably imagined that some of his own airs and graces would have rubbed off on Harry, by now.
The thought made Harry chuckle weakly, before the quiet sound died off into a shiver. As if he could afford to be fussy, even if he had picked up some of Lucius’ ‘manners’, which he certainly hadn’t. It was difficult to learn proper etiquette when your teacher had no interest in aiding you, rather preferring to beat the living daylights out of you at every available opportunity. Sighing, Harry pulled his knees up closer against his chest, hissing out a breath when the move tugged at various raw injuries. The cloak had provided some protection and warmth, until the heavens opened and it started to tip it down with rain. By this point, as the downpour turned to a drizzle, the heavy wool was soaked through. Shame it hadn’t been waterproofed, that certainly would have been useful...
Exhausted, cold and weary, the dark-haired young man allowed his eyes to drift closed, leaning more heavily against the sturdier of the two bushes at his sides. Darkness was falling, and it couldn’t hurt to rest for a while, surely? It wasn’t as though he could go any further tonight.
SS,SS,SS,SS
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’s esteemed potions professor was not in a good mood. Biting back a string of curses, he swept along the orderly little street with its decidedly ordinary little houses, scowling as he went. It was all just so dull, even for the man who craved organisation and structure in his work. It was one thing to appreciate the fine art and delicacy of potion-making, and quite another to root oneself in such a banal little place as this. How Potter had emerged quite so recalcitrant, he did not know. Perhaps it had been his way of rebelling against the order imposed here. Merlin knows some form of revolt would be necessary.
Of course, Severus wouldn’t have had to be here at all had it not been for the brat in question. It seemed McGonagall had picked up some mysterious signs of a problem that no one else had noticed. Likely Albus’ blasted portrait had been whispering in her ear again. Of course, heaven forbid one of the Headmistresses’ impulses go un-indulged, which led to Professor Severus Snape’s intrepid dive into this muggle idea of a perfect home. Glaring quite viciously at yet another neatly trimmed hedge as he strode past it, Severus shook his head. Harry Potter in trouble indeed! The boy was quite happily cozied up with Lucius Malfoy, no doubt showered with as much material wealth and attention as he could stand! Granted, the boy’s public appearances were few and far between, but such a thing was probably because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the Manor’s opulence! No, the Snape was quite certain that this mission to ‘discuss things’ with his muggle family was decidedly unnecessary.
Seemingly out of the blue, a desperate cry pulled Snape from his musings from the opposite side or the park. Swinging to face the noise, one long-fingered hand touched his wand through the folds of his robe. He had refused to don muggle attire for this ridiculous trip - wasn’t he already being inconvenienced enough? - and wore instead his standard black teaching robes. Dark eyes soon focused upon the source of the cry, a slender person seemed to be playing tug-of-war with a pit bull-type dog. Each had hold of one end of a messenger-style bag, and the canine seemed to be winning.
“No!” came the dismayed cry as the strap was ripped from human hands and the dog turned and fled, treasure clutched between sharp teeth. Hm, not quite a game then. The voice, though hoarse, was evidently male, and Severus frowned. Wrapped up in that sheet of material as he was, it was hard to make much else out about the boy, but the very fact that he was clearly in distress and even now returning to huddling against the bushes made him very much out of place on this most mundane of streets. Was he a beggar child? Unsure quite why he was doing it - perhaps to postpone the meeting with the Dursleys - the tall man strode around the hedge and towards the miserable figure.
HP,HP,HP,HP
A man of twenty-three years should not have to fight the urge to cry this often, Harry told himself sternly as he shuffled back against the shelter of the foliage. Gritting his teeth, he stubbornly refused to let the tears flow. It was just so frustrating! That pack had held all the provisions he had left! Now he’d either have to go without for a few days, until he was presentable enough to attempt to access his Gringotts vault, or scrounge and thieve to keep from losing what little body weight he had left after the five year stint with Malfoy. Lucius had liked his boys thin. Huffing out a breath, he angrily scrubbed at his eyes with the back of a hand, catching sight of a looming black figure to the left as it was lowered.
Gasping, he spun his body to face the threat, scrambling backwards before being forced to stop by the hedge there. Bitten fingers pulled the cloak closer about his shoulders as he attempted to use it as some sort of meagre shield, and emerald eyes finally rose to scrutinise the face. Not a sound left the slight frame as the identity of the man was observed, and the panic in those eyes refused to abate, instead growing wilder. Severus Snape. What the hell was he doing here? Laboured breathing kicked up a notch and Harry fought not to hyperventilate. Glancing around, he searched for some means of escape, even while knowing that in this state, he had no true hope of getting away. It wasn’t that he was afraid that Snape would hurt him, per se. After all, his name had been cleared after the final battle, and his actions - once revealed for what they truly were in light of Dumbledore’s memories - heralded as heroic. No, he didn’t fear the man himself - more the idea that anyone at all should see him this way.
It seemed to take the imposing man a few moments to recognise just who it was that he was looming over. Harry’s evident panic was ignored as the dark brows pulled together in a frown. It was only when emerald eyes had met inscrutable black that recognition flared within the darker depths. Harry winced, ducking his head down and staring determinedly at his feet, scuffed trainers suddenly seeming like the most fascinating things in the world. Why did it have to be Snape? He fervently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, eyes squeezing shut as he awaited the disdainful comment that was sure to come.
Those very same eyes flew open in shock as he felt a hand tug aside the cloak. A small, distressed noise sounded at the back of his throat as the wool slipped through his fingers and his battered form was exposed to the silent man’s gaze. Glancing down at himself with trepidation, Harry wondered what Snape was seeing. It was clear that he was a lot leaner than he should be, and bruises of various shades mottled the uncovered skin of his arms. Both his lips and the skin around his nails were damaged; bitten until they bled. At least with the angle as it was the older man wouldn’t be able to see the blood that had soaked through the back of his t-shirt, though the various lacerations and bites along his collarbone and arms were probably visible.
The sharp hiss of breath leaving from between clenched teeth made Harry flinch and he forced his eyes tightly shut, face turned down towards the ground in an attempt to avoid having to witness further reaction. The silence stretched, and when a cool hand gripped an unbruised section of the younger man’s upper-arm, the curve of the boy’s spine tightened further as Harry curled up a little more. His eyes blinked open as a surprisingly gentle pressure was applied to the limb and after a short hesitation Harry rose as indicated. Swaying slightly on the spot, he blinked a little dazedly, noticing the dark of the sky overhead. Surely the morning must be approaching by now.
Face remaining tilted down, Harry’s gaze darted up to the potion master’s face, never keeping it there for more than a second before averting it. He had learned the hard way that to stare was unwise. Still, the fleeting glances revealed an impassive mask, which was certainly better than a disgusted or angry one. Although... was that a tightening of the jaw he had seen? The weakened man was soon startled from his observations by a pair of strong arms scooping him up, one behind his shoulders and one underneath his legs. He sounded a wordless protest as it became clear that picking him up was what Snape intended to do, but it degenerated into a hiss of pain through gritted teeth as the arm pressed against his torn back.
The unpleasant pull of side-along apparition quickly tugged at Harry, shocking him into clinging to his former professor after having gone so long since last feeling it. He had been too weak to consider apparating alone since fleeing the Manor, and it had been some time ago that Lucius had last seen fit to parade him about for the wizarding public.
The arms about him tightened a little in response and Harry blushed, turning his face further down; both embarrassed and oddly comforted. Comfort certainly wasn’t something he had ever expected to find in the arms of his former professor! The tall, dark man still had yet to speak, though the tension in his frame suggested something simmering beneath the surface. The younger man did his best to console himself with the knowledge that any time Snape had had a despairing comment about him in the past; he had certainly never failed to voice it! With any luck that meant the distaste was aimed at someone other than himself; or perhaps even the situation itself. After all, he couldn’t be pleased with having to rescue him again.
Blinking, the green-eyed man risked looking up as he felt the rocking motion of Snape’s smooth, gliding walk. Why hadn’t he been put down? Curious eyes widened in surprise as they took in the sight before them. Since when did Severus Snape own or have ready access to a quaint little cottage on the edge of a dense forest? The very idea rang out as ridiculous! Even as he stared though, things began to resolve into some bizarre kind of sense. Certainly the potions master would not have given up on his brewing in the post-war world, and such a location would doubtless provide the chance to harvest fresh ingredients. Already, neat little rows of cultivated plants could be seen growing at the foot of the building. Not to mention that the former spy had always been one to value his solitude. It certainly didn’t look as though he’d be receiving many surprise callers here - current situation excepted, of course. Harry shook his head slowly, a little astounded that he should be noticing this now. Shouldn’t he be more concerned with the fact that he was currently settled in the head of Slytherin’s arms?”
His theory concerning the man’s requirement for privacy was quickly shot out of the water though as they reached the door, vines of ivy climbing the wood’s length. Slightly ajar as it was, the imposing man pushed it inwards with a tap of the foot, revealing that the cottage was less than empty. Harry’s mouth dropped into an “o” of surprise as Remus Lupin glanced up from his newspaper.
“Wha-?” the werewolf began, clearly confused by the sight of Severus Snape striding in with a slight bundle clasped in his arms. He cut himself off though when the young man dared to lift his head a little and peek out at Remus from under knotted bangs. Recognition flared in amber eyes, and he staggered to his feet, moving towards the new arrivals.
“Harry! What on Earth?” he exclaimed, causing the smaller man to flinch, his bruised and battered face turning to hide in the dark, reassuring robes of the man holding him. He didn’t understand why Snape was being so steady and silent, but it comforted him. He could feel the stern shake of the dark-haired man’s head through the muscles in his chest, and then they were moving once more.
Harry didn’t open his eyes again until he felt himself set down on something soft. Blinking, he gazed around, resisting the urge to cling to the soft robes with a noise of protest. He was in a bedroom and it was the bed that he was being set upon. For a moment he felt a twinge of fear as to what that might mean, but quickly scolded himself. That was silly; it wasn’t as if Snape would want anything like that from him anyway. He hated “The Boy Who Lived”. The bed itself was a regular single, with pale blue sheets and a comfortable pillow. A beige throw had been placed down before himself, presumably to prevent him from dirtying the clean sheets. There was a single wide window with curtains drawn, and a small fireplace directly opposite the bed. Harry watched silently as Snape moved to the hearth and started a fire, shivering as he realised how cold he truly was.
“Come on, Harry,” murmured a gentle voice to his right and Harry started, not having realised that Lupin was in the room. He turned to blink owlishly at his other once-teacher, not quite able to summon up the energy to speak or do more than let himself be moved around. He flinched a little when Remus touched him, but otherwise made no protest as he was stood up once more and the rain-soaked clothes were peeled from his skin. He barely even winced as they were prised carefully from his various wounds, so used to the dull ache that his body seemed to have become.
Eventually, the clothes lay in a waterlogged pile at their feet. At some point, Snape had left the room briefly, and now returned, banishing the material with a flick of his wand. He frowned at the swaying boy, before speaking at last.
“The bath should be ready.”
Harry began to drift off even as he was lead to the bathroom, so tired was he by this point. Time passed in something of a blur, and he was vaguely aware of being helped into a warm bath and washed. Before he knew it, he was back in the bedroom, being dried and eased under the covers. Perhaps it was the day’s toll on him, or perhaps the fact that the bed was more comfortable than anything he had slept on for years, but he was asleep within moments of his head touching the pillow.
Chapters so far...
one | two
Chapter 2 - Defying Expectations
Harry shivered miserably as he lay huddled between two low-standing bushes to the side of the park. He really couldn’t say why he’d returned to Little Whinging, Surrey, aside from the fact that he really didn’t know where else to go. Catching the Knight Bus had been a risky move, but Harry had wanted to get as far away from Lucius as quickly as possible and muggle transportation was simply too slow. Besides, the blond would never expect his pet to risk being found in such a state by those who might recognise him. Malfoy would likely assume that he had travelled by foot or muggle bus. At least that means he should only search nearby, and not all the way out in Surrey, he consoled himself. And anyway, it was not as though a Malfoy would deign to turn their attention to such grubby transportation as that raucous vehicle. He probably imagined that some of his own airs and graces would have rubbed off on Harry, by now.
The thought made Harry chuckle weakly, before the quiet sound died off into a shiver. As if he could afford to be fussy, even if he had picked up some of Lucius’ ‘manners’, which he certainly hadn’t. It was difficult to learn proper etiquette when your teacher had no interest in aiding you, rather preferring to beat the living daylights out of you at every available opportunity. Sighing, Harry pulled his knees up closer against his chest, hissing out a breath when the move tugged at various raw injuries. The cloak had provided some protection and warmth, until the heavens opened and it started to tip it down with rain. By this point, as the downpour turned to a drizzle, the heavy wool was soaked through. Shame it hadn’t been waterproofed, that certainly would have been useful...
Exhausted, cold and weary, the dark-haired young man allowed his eyes to drift closed, leaning more heavily against the sturdier of the two bushes at his sides. Darkness was falling, and it couldn’t hurt to rest for a while, surely? It wasn’t as though he could go any further tonight.
SS,SS,SS,SS
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’s esteemed potions professor was not in a good mood. Biting back a string of curses, he swept along the orderly little street with its decidedly ordinary little houses, scowling as he went. It was all just so dull, even for the man who craved organisation and structure in his work. It was one thing to appreciate the fine art and delicacy of potion-making, and quite another to root oneself in such a banal little place as this. How Potter had emerged quite so recalcitrant, he did not know. Perhaps it had been his way of rebelling against the order imposed here. Merlin knows some form of revolt would be necessary.
Of course, Severus wouldn’t have had to be here at all had it not been for the brat in question. It seemed McGonagall had picked up some mysterious signs of a problem that no one else had noticed. Likely Albus’ blasted portrait had been whispering in her ear again. Of course, heaven forbid one of the Headmistresses’ impulses go un-indulged, which led to Professor Severus Snape’s intrepid dive into this muggle idea of a perfect home. Glaring quite viciously at yet another neatly trimmed hedge as he strode past it, Severus shook his head. Harry Potter in trouble indeed! The boy was quite happily cozied up with Lucius Malfoy, no doubt showered with as much material wealth and attention as he could stand! Granted, the boy’s public appearances were few and far between, but such a thing was probably because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the Manor’s opulence! No, the Snape was quite certain that this mission to ‘discuss things’ with his muggle family was decidedly unnecessary.
Seemingly out of the blue, a desperate cry pulled Snape from his musings from the opposite side or the park. Swinging to face the noise, one long-fingered hand touched his wand through the folds of his robe. He had refused to don muggle attire for this ridiculous trip - wasn’t he already being inconvenienced enough? - and wore instead his standard black teaching robes. Dark eyes soon focused upon the source of the cry, a slender person seemed to be playing tug-of-war with a pit bull-type dog. Each had hold of one end of a messenger-style bag, and the canine seemed to be winning.
“No!” came the dismayed cry as the strap was ripped from human hands and the dog turned and fled, treasure clutched between sharp teeth. Hm, not quite a game then. The voice, though hoarse, was evidently male, and Severus frowned. Wrapped up in that sheet of material as he was, it was hard to make much else out about the boy, but the very fact that he was clearly in distress and even now returning to huddling against the bushes made him very much out of place on this most mundane of streets. Was he a beggar child? Unsure quite why he was doing it - perhaps to postpone the meeting with the Dursleys - the tall man strode around the hedge and towards the miserable figure.
HP,HP,HP,HP
A man of twenty-three years should not have to fight the urge to cry this often, Harry told himself sternly as he shuffled back against the shelter of the foliage. Gritting his teeth, he stubbornly refused to let the tears flow. It was just so frustrating! That pack had held all the provisions he had left! Now he’d either have to go without for a few days, until he was presentable enough to attempt to access his Gringotts vault, or scrounge and thieve to keep from losing what little body weight he had left after the five year stint with Malfoy. Lucius had liked his boys thin. Huffing out a breath, he angrily scrubbed at his eyes with the back of a hand, catching sight of a looming black figure to the left as it was lowered.
Gasping, he spun his body to face the threat, scrambling backwards before being forced to stop by the hedge there. Bitten fingers pulled the cloak closer about his shoulders as he attempted to use it as some sort of meagre shield, and emerald eyes finally rose to scrutinise the face. Not a sound left the slight frame as the identity of the man was observed, and the panic in those eyes refused to abate, instead growing wilder. Severus Snape. What the hell was he doing here? Laboured breathing kicked up a notch and Harry fought not to hyperventilate. Glancing around, he searched for some means of escape, even while knowing that in this state, he had no true hope of getting away. It wasn’t that he was afraid that Snape would hurt him, per se. After all, his name had been cleared after the final battle, and his actions - once revealed for what they truly were in light of Dumbledore’s memories - heralded as heroic. No, he didn’t fear the man himself - more the idea that anyone at all should see him this way.
It seemed to take the imposing man a few moments to recognise just who it was that he was looming over. Harry’s evident panic was ignored as the dark brows pulled together in a frown. It was only when emerald eyes had met inscrutable black that recognition flared within the darker depths. Harry winced, ducking his head down and staring determinedly at his feet, scuffed trainers suddenly seeming like the most fascinating things in the world. Why did it have to be Snape? He fervently prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, eyes squeezing shut as he awaited the disdainful comment that was sure to come.
Those very same eyes flew open in shock as he felt a hand tug aside the cloak. A small, distressed noise sounded at the back of his throat as the wool slipped through his fingers and his battered form was exposed to the silent man’s gaze. Glancing down at himself with trepidation, Harry wondered what Snape was seeing. It was clear that he was a lot leaner than he should be, and bruises of various shades mottled the uncovered skin of his arms. Both his lips and the skin around his nails were damaged; bitten until they bled. At least with the angle as it was the older man wouldn’t be able to see the blood that had soaked through the back of his t-shirt, though the various lacerations and bites along his collarbone and arms were probably visible.
The sharp hiss of breath leaving from between clenched teeth made Harry flinch and he forced his eyes tightly shut, face turned down towards the ground in an attempt to avoid having to witness further reaction. The silence stretched, and when a cool hand gripped an unbruised section of the younger man’s upper-arm, the curve of the boy’s spine tightened further as Harry curled up a little more. His eyes blinked open as a surprisingly gentle pressure was applied to the limb and after a short hesitation Harry rose as indicated. Swaying slightly on the spot, he blinked a little dazedly, noticing the dark of the sky overhead. Surely the morning must be approaching by now.
Face remaining tilted down, Harry’s gaze darted up to the potion master’s face, never keeping it there for more than a second before averting it. He had learned the hard way that to stare was unwise. Still, the fleeting glances revealed an impassive mask, which was certainly better than a disgusted or angry one. Although... was that a tightening of the jaw he had seen? The weakened man was soon startled from his observations by a pair of strong arms scooping him up, one behind his shoulders and one underneath his legs. He sounded a wordless protest as it became clear that picking him up was what Snape intended to do, but it degenerated into a hiss of pain through gritted teeth as the arm pressed against his torn back.
The unpleasant pull of side-along apparition quickly tugged at Harry, shocking him into clinging to his former professor after having gone so long since last feeling it. He had been too weak to consider apparating alone since fleeing the Manor, and it had been some time ago that Lucius had last seen fit to parade him about for the wizarding public.
The arms about him tightened a little in response and Harry blushed, turning his face further down; both embarrassed and oddly comforted. Comfort certainly wasn’t something he had ever expected to find in the arms of his former professor! The tall, dark man still had yet to speak, though the tension in his frame suggested something simmering beneath the surface. The younger man did his best to console himself with the knowledge that any time Snape had had a despairing comment about him in the past; he had certainly never failed to voice it! With any luck that meant the distaste was aimed at someone other than himself; or perhaps even the situation itself. After all, he couldn’t be pleased with having to rescue him again.
Blinking, the green-eyed man risked looking up as he felt the rocking motion of Snape’s smooth, gliding walk. Why hadn’t he been put down? Curious eyes widened in surprise as they took in the sight before them. Since when did Severus Snape own or have ready access to a quaint little cottage on the edge of a dense forest? The very idea rang out as ridiculous! Even as he stared though, things began to resolve into some bizarre kind of sense. Certainly the potions master would not have given up on his brewing in the post-war world, and such a location would doubtless provide the chance to harvest fresh ingredients. Already, neat little rows of cultivated plants could be seen growing at the foot of the building. Not to mention that the former spy had always been one to value his solitude. It certainly didn’t look as though he’d be receiving many surprise callers here - current situation excepted, of course. Harry shook his head slowly, a little astounded that he should be noticing this now. Shouldn’t he be more concerned with the fact that he was currently settled in the head of Slytherin’s arms?”
His theory concerning the man’s requirement for privacy was quickly shot out of the water though as they reached the door, vines of ivy climbing the wood’s length. Slightly ajar as it was, the imposing man pushed it inwards with a tap of the foot, revealing that the cottage was less than empty. Harry’s mouth dropped into an “o” of surprise as Remus Lupin glanced up from his newspaper.
“Wha-?” the werewolf began, clearly confused by the sight of Severus Snape striding in with a slight bundle clasped in his arms. He cut himself off though when the young man dared to lift his head a little and peek out at Remus from under knotted bangs. Recognition flared in amber eyes, and he staggered to his feet, moving towards the new arrivals.
“Harry! What on Earth?” he exclaimed, causing the smaller man to flinch, his bruised and battered face turning to hide in the dark, reassuring robes of the man holding him. He didn’t understand why Snape was being so steady and silent, but it comforted him. He could feel the stern shake of the dark-haired man’s head through the muscles in his chest, and then they were moving once more.
Harry didn’t open his eyes again until he felt himself set down on something soft. Blinking, he gazed around, resisting the urge to cling to the soft robes with a noise of protest. He was in a bedroom and it was the bed that he was being set upon. For a moment he felt a twinge of fear as to what that might mean, but quickly scolded himself. That was silly; it wasn’t as if Snape would want anything like that from him anyway. He hated “The Boy Who Lived”. The bed itself was a regular single, with pale blue sheets and a comfortable pillow. A beige throw had been placed down before himself, presumably to prevent him from dirtying the clean sheets. There was a single wide window with curtains drawn, and a small fireplace directly opposite the bed. Harry watched silently as Snape moved to the hearth and started a fire, shivering as he realised how cold he truly was.
“Come on, Harry,” murmured a gentle voice to his right and Harry started, not having realised that Lupin was in the room. He turned to blink owlishly at his other once-teacher, not quite able to summon up the energy to speak or do more than let himself be moved around. He flinched a little when Remus touched him, but otherwise made no protest as he was stood up once more and the rain-soaked clothes were peeled from his skin. He barely even winced as they were prised carefully from his various wounds, so used to the dull ache that his body seemed to have become.
Eventually, the clothes lay in a waterlogged pile at their feet. At some point, Snape had left the room briefly, and now returned, banishing the material with a flick of his wand. He frowned at the swaying boy, before speaking at last.
“The bath should be ready.”
Harry began to drift off even as he was lead to the bathroom, so tired was he by this point. Time passed in something of a blur, and he was vaguely aware of being helped into a warm bath and washed. Before he knew it, he was back in the bedroom, being dried and eased under the covers. Perhaps it was the day’s toll on him, or perhaps the fact that the bed was more comfortable than anything he had slept on for years, but he was asleep within moments of his head touching the pillow.
Chapters so far...
one | two