FIC (repost): The Lost Son 3 / 3 - HP, Harry/Snape, NC-17
Title: The Lost Son
(First story in the James-verse)
Author: Lakhesis
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Sterling Dragonfly
Summary: Accidental magic to protect the future results in a past set to rights.
Disclaimer: JKRowling and Warner Brothers have all respective rights to Harry Potter and associated characters. I’m only abusing them for my own amusement.
***
When Hermione, one of the earliest risers in Gryffindor Tower, woke in the morning, she found James curled into a chair in front of the fire in the common room.
"James?"
The face he turned to her was streaked by tear tracks, and the anxiety was visible. "I'm still here."
She nodded. "You will be until Halloween, you said that was the day."
He turned back to the fire, silent for a moment. "Maybe longer."
Concerned now, she hurried forward and leaned on the chair, dropping a hand onto his hair in a comforting gesture. "What happened?"
Shaking his head, he refused to answer the question she had asked. He didn't look up, but she did, when the portrait opened and Harry stumbled in, looking exhausted. There was the slightest hint of color around his neck, a betraying satiation in his eyes.
"Harry?" Hermione was heading towards deep shock. "Where have you been?"
Harry looked across the room towards a clock. "Damn, it's later than I thought."
"It's morning, Harry. Don't you mean earlier?"
He didn't answer, turning towards the dormitory stairs with a silent trudge of tired feet.
Hermione glanced down when James spoke, the faintest trace of a smile coming onto his face. "You're right, until Halloween."
When he rose from the chair and headed to the dormitory himself, Hermione was left to glance into the fire. Her face was hidden by the reflection of the fire, but betrayed her knowledge in its deep flush.
*****
James was awake before anyone on Halloween. Dressed and pacing the common room, it was no surprise when Hermione was the next up. He ignored her for a few minutes and continued his pacing. It didn't take long before she was absolutely unwilling to tolerate his nervous behavior.
"James?"
Buried in his own little world, he didn't even hear her the first time.
"James!"
Looking up, he caught the annoyed look and wondered how he had missed several other Gryffindors who were now in the room. With a sheepish shrug, he dropped onto the end of a couch across from Hermione. She wasn't surprised when he didn't apologize for his pacing, just sat there quietly.
"What time were you born?"
He turned slightly to look at her, momentarily confused. "Around four in the afternoon."
Hermione leaned and smacked him on the arm. "Then stop worrying. You have all day. Settle down and relax."
*****
The morning classes had gone well, even if Hermione was continually left to get James' attention back on the professors. His mind was wandering, and she could understand that, but she was relieved when lunch came and they could both take a break.
Harry was absent as they dropped into seats across from Ron. Hermione was tempted to circle the table and sit beside him, but realized that she was too tired to bother. She wasn't too tired to be curious, noting that Professor Snape was also absent.
"Where's Harry?" Her question tried to be innocent, but there was a certain edge of teenage gossip to it.
Ron barely paused in his shoveling of food to respond. "Headmaster's office, something important."
James looked up from where he was tormenting a piece of chicken. "Did they say what?"
Shaking his head, the redhead continued to eat. James went back through his memory for a minute, recalling the specifics he'd learned in History of Magic even if his parents had refused to talk about details of the time period.
Leaning into Hermione gained him a narrow-eyed stare from Ron, but he just turned his face to whisper into her ear. "Voldemort." The single word was all that was needed.
She leaned back in confusion and simply looked at him. The serious set of his features, combined with Harry having been dragged into an important meeting, caused her to blanch. "What's going to happen?"
Her voice was just as low, but not as restrained. The babble of voices in the hall and the absence of any nearby seatmates was still probably the only thing keeping the question just to their little group of three.
"He's going to attack the school."
James' words caused Ron to flinch and pause in his eating with a muttered, "Bloody hell."
Hermione didn't even bother to ask him how he knew.
In that second of scared realization that the war was likely to come to a head, there was also a screaming noise of protest from the castle's wards. The sound caused all chatter over lunch to halt and Professor McGonagall, the only teacher at the High Table, to jump up in concern.
"Isn't this just sweet?"
The drawl from behind him caused James to freeze, fear draining the blood from his features. The comment was followed shortly by a sharp pressure at the back of his neck that ensured his stillness. Not being able to move his head kept him from knowing if it was just the one man, a bad enough situation, or if he had backup to make it even worse.
"Wouldn't Daddy be proud? His golden child associating with Mudblood and the Weasel."
The sneer in the voice was obvious and James closed his eyes, wondering if he was going to die before he had the chance to get home.
"No, don't move, Mudblood, or I kill him."
Hermione halted her reach for her wand, nervous at the close proximity of the blond man with the wand in one hand and dagger in the other. That same dagger which was point against the back of James' neck.
"Who are you?" Her voice was soft, an unusual circumstance for the usually direct young woman.
The dagger point jiggled, causing a sharp well of red blood. "James, why don't you tell the Mudblood who I am?"
James took a deep breath and tried to drown his temper behind a mental barrier. It worked and kept him from saying what he wanted to say in response, which would have likely led to his being injured. His delay, though, caused the point to be pressed harder, bringing another bright spot of blood.
"Draconis."
The fear was obvious in James' voice, even in just that one word. The other students had been stilled by the sudden appearance of a man in an area presumably blocked from Apparition and kept that way by the blatant threat he posed.
Professor McGonagall, however, was tasked with keeping order and had approached. "Who are you and what do you think you're doing?"
Draconis turned with a sneer. "Evacuate the hall, or I will kill a student."
She halted her approach for a moment in shock, but continued forward after a moment. "How dare you threaten us, sir!"
The dagger didn't move as Draconis leveled his wand towards the Hufflepuff table. "Avada Kedavra." No one really had the time to react before a third year, whose name many hadn't known, fell dead.
"Evacuate the hall, or I kill another student."
The Deputy Headmistress had stiffened in shock, but now clearly understood the threat being presented. With the other professors in a last minute meeting about Voldemort, she was alone to face this man and protect the students. At the moment, the only thing she could do was what he demanded.
"All students, exit the Great Hall through the main doors." She watched as some stood hesitantly and some rushed with panicked exclamations. A death among them was hard to handle, even for children growing up during a war. "Quickly now," she hurried along the stragglers.
"Go on, Mudblood, Weasel, little James doesn't need your help here."
Hermione and Ron edged away from the table, casting desperate looks at the pair before leaving. The professor stood, alone in the Hall with James and the unknown man. The doors stood open, a scattering of students still peeking curiously around their edges.
"Out, old woman."
McGonagall scowled and remained still.
"Persuade her, little James."
James winced at the pain in his neck, but looked to the Deputy Headmistress. "Please, Professor. It will be all right."
Draconis chuckled at that, but watched in satisfaction as she turned and left. With a wave of his wand, the doors slammed behind her. Knowing that she had likely gone immediately for Dumbledore, he twitched the knife again at James' neck.
"Stand, slowly."
James began to rise, hands on the table to steady his progress. As he did, he catalogued his environment and his likely chances to delay injury until someone could get into the Great Hall. Curling the edges of his fingers under his plate, he ducked, leaning forward as he stood, swinging the plate around to impact the knife.
The resistance to his orders should have been expected, but oddly enough, wasn't. Draconis lost his grip on the dagger and it was knocked by the impact under the Ravenclaw table. James stepped back quickly, dropping the plate, empty-handed now against a Dark Lord armed with a wand. He could feel the warm trickle of blood down the back of his neck and kept his face blank as he continued to back away.
*****
Minerva slammed the door to the Headmaster's office open, moving at a pace that few expected to see from a woman of her advanced years. Harried and slightly out of breath, she was at least still able to form full sentences. "Albus, we have a problem in the Great Hall."
A large portion of the Order of the Phoenix looked back at her as the Transfigurations Mistress gained the Headmaster's attention. It was odd to her, when she noted that both Albus and the young Mr. Potter looked at the clock first.
With a note of confusion in his blue eyes, Dumbledore stood from his chair. "What has happened?"
"The disturbance in the castle wards. A man appeared and is threatening Mr. Nathaniel. He has killed Mr. Williams from Hufflepuff and demanded the evacuation of the Hall. There was nothing else I could do but leave Mr. Nathaniel with him."
The collected members looked disturbed at the news and many began to shift and rise from their chairs. Not the least of whom was Harry Potter, who jumped up with an exclamation of "James!" and began for the door, wand already out.
"Mr. Potter!" The Headmaster's voiced paused the Gryffindor's movements, and in that moment there was another screaming protest from the castle wards. Dumbledore's mouth twitched into a grin. "I do not believe such haste is required, Mr. Potter. Please have a seat."
The group looked at the elder wizard, trying to figure out once again if he was brilliant or barmy. Harry, never one to accept such things easily, hesitated, "But, sir…"
The Headmaster shook his head. "We have an intruder in the Great Hall, yes. However, Professor McGonagall indicated he was alone there with Mr. Nathaniel." He waited for the confirming nod from his Deputy before continuing. "And now Mr. Nathaniel's backup have arrived. I do not believe your presence would be a good idea."
Harry's expression shifted into one of less desperation and there passed a moment of understanding between the oldest and youngest wizards in the room. He was silent as he resumed his seat; the others now started to demand answers.
Dumbledore, as always, shared only that information he desired to share. "Please resume the meeting, Voldemort will not delay his attack if he has set himself to the course."
Stepping around his desk, he stopped to lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I will ensure that Mr. Nathaniel has come to no harm and that he leaves safely."
Harry nodded, an odd look on his face. "Sir, could you tell him…" His voice tapered off, slightly choked. "Just tell him…" Again, he couldn't continue, his chest tight with an emotion that was hard to explain and even harder to deal with in the slightly bizarre circumstances under which he lived his life.
The Headmaster nodded. "I understand, Harry."
As the elder wizard left, the others resumed their plans for combating Voldemort. There were none too few inquiring glances towards the Boy Who Lived. Some wondered exactly what his relationship was with the temporary student. At least one knew that he would be demanding answers to this enigma later, an unexpected spurt of possessiveness giving rise anew to jealousy.
*****
Approaching the Great Hall, Dumbledore found the halls empty of students. It was amazing, in a distant way, the fact that the students would sometimes obey an imperative and sometimes ignore it. Though, he was pleased that today they were cooperative.
Nearing the doors, he did not, as he had feared, hear the noises of a pitched battle. Instead came the distant echoes of a conversation.
"What did I tell you about having a hair out of place?"
"Stop, he's safe now."
As Albus carefully opened a side door that was set to allow only the Headmaster entrance, he caught a sight that he would remember for the remainder of his years. There were two dead bodies on the floor of the Great Hall. One, the unlucky student who'd earlier been used as a demonstration. The second, a blond man sprawled facedown in still smoldering robes. But it was the three living figures that carried his attention. The youngest, James, was seated at a student bench, his head bent forward as a cloth was dabbed against the back of his neck. Behind him, an older Severus Snape fussed in a decidedly paternal fashion. A mature and distinguished Harry Potter paced around them both, looking both mildly concerned and proud.
"We would not have had to assure his safety if he had complied with you in the first place."
A roll of the eyes was the only response from pacing man, who stopped suddenly and focused on the side of the Hall.
"Headmaster."
Snape flung the cloth on the table with a huff, "Fine. I will cease my lecture, Minister."
Harry forestalled the rest of the rant with an amused smile. "Not you, git. Albus."
The oldest of the time-displaced wizards froze, his whispered answer barely carrying back to the ears of the current Headmaster. "Harry… I can't…"
The Headmaster watched as Harry ran his fingers lightly across the turned away face and then laid his hand on the shoulder. "It's alright, Severus."
He waited as the younger man then came walking towards him. It was odd to watch this older version of the boy on whom they'd laid so much. Although he did take comfort that the experience had not apparently damaged his ability to relate to others.
There was a momentary hesitation when the younger man reached the Headmaster, then Dumbledore found himself smiling as he was pulled into a strong hug. "Albus, it's good to see you again."
The older wizard chuckled and returned the hug. "May I reassure you then that young James is off home well enough?"
Harry smiled. "Yes, you will."
As the two watched, Severus eased a groaning James up from his seat with a warning. "Gently, James. Cruciatus is tiring on the system." His son wavered for a moment, but stood with a tight grip on his father's arm.
Dumbledore's eyes dimmed slightly with his question, "What happened here?"
Harry shook his head. "Just another Dark Lord, Albus. You can pass it off as a Death Eater attack. After all, he was one once."
The Headmaster nodded in understanding. Harry turned to him and gave him another quick hug. "We'll be taking his body with us. I'll need you to leave the Hall so Severus can open the portal."
The elder wizard nodded his understanding and turned to go. He was surprised when Harry pressed a piece of paper into his hand with a quick wink, but pocketed the item to look at later. As the door closed behind, he could feel the castle responding to a request and shifting its magics to comply.
In moments, all was still again.
*****
As Dumbledore approached his office again, he opened the paper he had been handed. Reading through it, he was unsurprised to find it a short note in Harry's obviously still messy scrawl. A summary of the progress of the coming battle, including notations as to when and where Dumbledore would prove particularly effective.
Most compelling was the after note. Harry, it seemed, wanted to spare his mate a lifetime of survivor's guilt and was willing to risk the future to do so. It seemed that they had seen Dumbledore fall in the battle, stepping in the way of a killing curse destined for his Potions Master. With curt descriptions, Harry had specified the situation and written a final note of his hope.
'I may be changing things, Albus. I want you to trust me in this risk. Severus has never been truly happy thinking that his life was purchased with yours.'
*****
As dusk fell on Hogwarts and the Halloween Feast would usually be commencing in the Great Hall, instead, a sense of anticipatory fear had overcome the castle. The lower level students had been locked in their dormitories, warded behind the strongest spells with which their professors could guard them.
Most of the seventh year students, those who hadn't disappeared earlier that day to face them from the other side, stood slightly apart as the adults mustered in the Great Hall. The cheerful decorations were disregarded, the tables merely a place to rest before a long evening ahead.
Harry stood on his own, neither a part of the student conversation or the last minute Auror and Professor planning. He gazed silently into the fire, settling with himself the task in front of him. Tonight he was supposed to finish this war… And although they would all be fighting, he would ultimately carry the burden. He looked up when Dumbledore called the room to order and moved to join the other students.
When the last minute instructions had been given, Harry took a deep breath and turned to face his best friends. "I would feel better if I knew you were safe inside."
It was a half-hearted statement; he knew they'd never agree. Ron simply grinned, not even bothering to respond. "The DA have their instructions. We're to keep you and your adult partner clear until you can find your target."
Harry nodded. "Voldemort…" His voice tapered off and he noted that the students in front of him no longer flinched. It seemed pointless to flinch when you were about to go into battle against his forces.
"So, mate, who's your bodyguard?" Ron's question was chipper and Harry marveled that his friend could keep calm in the face of this. Of course, he'd had a great deal of practice around Harry for the last seven years and this was just tactics… Ron had always been good at tactics.
Dragging his wandering mind back, Harry answered the question with a slightly ironic smile. "Professor Snape."
Ron blanched slightly, but nodded. Headmaster Dumbledore had thrown a mature and dignified version of a hissy-fit earlier when both Aurors and students had objected to the presence of the now publicly acknowledged spy and former Death Eater. The other students edged away slightly as the subject of their conversation joined the group.
"Potter." A slight nod to Harry before dark eyes skimmed over the gathered young witches and wizards. "Let us hope you taught Defense better than the incompetents hired to the position."
Harry had the chance to grin before they were all being directed to the doors and the approaching enemies outside.
*****
As battles went, it was both anti-climatic and terrifying. The only thing to differentiate this conflict from the prior skirmishes between the sides of light and dark was the scale. This time, rather than a few Death Eaters and maybe their Master, they faced the combined efforts of all dark wizards, witches, and creatures that were free to fight.
It was a cacophony of noise, echoing across the surface of the lake and bouncing from the towers of the castle. The glow of hexes and curses cast at times lit up the darkening sky to noon-bright, glazing the surfaces in an eerie light. Tension was in the air as spellfire brought a level of heat across their skin to play at odds with the cool of the Scottish evening. Those who lost their cloaks either intentionally or through damage did not feel their loss as they would on a calm night. The constant whine of the castle wards at so much dark magic being cast in close proximity was only punctured by a deeper thrum when a misdirected spell impacted the walls and wards.
The DA stood strong. A shifting mass of trained and loyal wizards and witches kept the majority of the threat away from their targets. Harry and the professor used their distinct links to the Dark Lord in order to locate him, guiding the group closer. When they'd approached as far as they could, the students laid down a covering fire of curses and hexes to allow the two a clear run.
Once they'd finished that task, though, the students were drawn into the random chaos of the rest of the combat.
*****
There was no one who could really say when the battle started to go their way. The tide was definitely turning, even before the Death Eaters screamed the loss of their Dark Marks. But after that point, it was a matter of wrapping up. Not that this was an easy task, but it was one taken with more hope.
When there were no more threats to fight, the process of listing the injured and the dead began. People clumped in groups, helping those less fortunate than themselves. Quarter was provided to injured on both the sides of light and dark. After all, when this was finished, they would be expected to live as a whole society again. It was not unlike any revolution that had ever taken place.
The hospital wing was overflowing with patients; the least injured being triaged in the Great Hall. Ron, guiding a limping Hermione, checked among the dead first, then the injured, seeking their friend and savior.
Gathering information as they went, they finally made it to the infirmary. The main ward was filled with Aurors. Exposed to the fiercest parts of the battle, it was not surprising that they sustained most of the serious spell and physical injuries.
They were stopped there by the Deputy Headmistress who was leaning heavily on her cane, little seen since the days of Umbridge. "What are the two of you doing up here?"
Ron and Hermione simply looked back at her with the slightly blank faces of people who would deal with things in the morning. The question was on their faces as they spoke one word together. "Harry?"
The older witch nodded and pointed towards a private room at the back of the ward. "In there."
They tried not to hurry too visibly, thanking her quickly. When they reached the back, the door to the room was shut. Suddenly unsure, they knocked first and then entered slowly. There was a tension in the room they entered.
A figure tucked into a hospital bed was flanked by the Headmaster in a chair and a bloodied young man with one hand on the bed and the other curled around his head as he hunched over. They could both clearly hear Harry's sobbing breaths, even as he physically attempted to muffle them with his own body. Dumbledore, for once, looked as if he hadn't the faintest clue what to do and wouldn't have the energy to do it if he had.
When the two entered the room, it didn't seem to even register with Harry. Dumbledore stood in somewhat of relief. "Please sit with Harry until I'm able to return."
They nodded their acceptances as the Headmaster hobbled slowly out of the room. Ron seated himself in the now vacant chair, not knowing what to do. Hermione moved towards Harry, reaching out a hand.
"Don't touch him." The voice was hissed out in a fierce whisper. Hermione's head darted up, surprised that the figure in the bed was awake and aware. What she'd previously assumed to be an unconscious professor was in fact a very observant Potions Master glaring in her direction.
"But, sir, he's…" She waved her hand slightly at Harry, indicating his emotional distress.
Snape's response was cold and sarcastic, but betrayed his concern. "Enjoying the first chance in his life to vent perfectly natural and acceptable emotions under a rather necessary silencing spell so dunderheads like yourself cannot disturb him?"
Hermione flinched back and Ron leapt to her rescue, verbally, as he'd now seen what the professor could do in an unrestrained fight. "You can't speak to her like that!"
The cold black glare moved to the redhead. "If she disturbs Harry, I will not only speak to her in that fashion, I will eviscerate her."
Both of them stopped in shock, but then Hermione smiled. "You called him Harry."
That piercing gaze moved back to her and she hesitated for a moment. Then, confident, she looked at Ron. "Come on, we should wait outside."
Ron looked confused and was rapidly looking between the other people in the room. Eventually, he nodded as he agreed, "Yeah."
The two stepped to the door and it closed behind them. Peering back through the crack as she eased it shut, she saw that a long-fingered and slightly stained hand had already moved from Harry's grasp and was softly petting the perpetually messy raven hair.
Finis
(First story in the James-verse)
Author: Lakhesis
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Sterling Dragonfly
Summary: Accidental magic to protect the future results in a past set to rights.
Disclaimer: JKRowling and Warner Brothers have all respective rights to Harry Potter and associated characters. I’m only abusing them for my own amusement.
***
When Hermione, one of the earliest risers in Gryffindor Tower, woke in the morning, she found James curled into a chair in front of the fire in the common room.
"James?"
The face he turned to her was streaked by tear tracks, and the anxiety was visible. "I'm still here."
She nodded. "You will be until Halloween, you said that was the day."
He turned back to the fire, silent for a moment. "Maybe longer."
Concerned now, she hurried forward and leaned on the chair, dropping a hand onto his hair in a comforting gesture. "What happened?"
Shaking his head, he refused to answer the question she had asked. He didn't look up, but she did, when the portrait opened and Harry stumbled in, looking exhausted. There was the slightest hint of color around his neck, a betraying satiation in his eyes.
"Harry?" Hermione was heading towards deep shock. "Where have you been?"
Harry looked across the room towards a clock. "Damn, it's later than I thought."
"It's morning, Harry. Don't you mean earlier?"
He didn't answer, turning towards the dormitory stairs with a silent trudge of tired feet.
Hermione glanced down when James spoke, the faintest trace of a smile coming onto his face. "You're right, until Halloween."
When he rose from the chair and headed to the dormitory himself, Hermione was left to glance into the fire. Her face was hidden by the reflection of the fire, but betrayed her knowledge in its deep flush.
*****
James was awake before anyone on Halloween. Dressed and pacing the common room, it was no surprise when Hermione was the next up. He ignored her for a few minutes and continued his pacing. It didn't take long before she was absolutely unwilling to tolerate his nervous behavior.
"James?"
Buried in his own little world, he didn't even hear her the first time.
"James!"
Looking up, he caught the annoyed look and wondered how he had missed several other Gryffindors who were now in the room. With a sheepish shrug, he dropped onto the end of a couch across from Hermione. She wasn't surprised when he didn't apologize for his pacing, just sat there quietly.
"What time were you born?"
He turned slightly to look at her, momentarily confused. "Around four in the afternoon."
Hermione leaned and smacked him on the arm. "Then stop worrying. You have all day. Settle down and relax."
*****
The morning classes had gone well, even if Hermione was continually left to get James' attention back on the professors. His mind was wandering, and she could understand that, but she was relieved when lunch came and they could both take a break.
Harry was absent as they dropped into seats across from Ron. Hermione was tempted to circle the table and sit beside him, but realized that she was too tired to bother. She wasn't too tired to be curious, noting that Professor Snape was also absent.
"Where's Harry?" Her question tried to be innocent, but there was a certain edge of teenage gossip to it.
Ron barely paused in his shoveling of food to respond. "Headmaster's office, something important."
James looked up from where he was tormenting a piece of chicken. "Did they say what?"
Shaking his head, the redhead continued to eat. James went back through his memory for a minute, recalling the specifics he'd learned in History of Magic even if his parents had refused to talk about details of the time period.
Leaning into Hermione gained him a narrow-eyed stare from Ron, but he just turned his face to whisper into her ear. "Voldemort." The single word was all that was needed.
She leaned back in confusion and simply looked at him. The serious set of his features, combined with Harry having been dragged into an important meeting, caused her to blanch. "What's going to happen?"
Her voice was just as low, but not as restrained. The babble of voices in the hall and the absence of any nearby seatmates was still probably the only thing keeping the question just to their little group of three.
"He's going to attack the school."
James' words caused Ron to flinch and pause in his eating with a muttered, "Bloody hell."
Hermione didn't even bother to ask him how he knew.
In that second of scared realization that the war was likely to come to a head, there was also a screaming noise of protest from the castle's wards. The sound caused all chatter over lunch to halt and Professor McGonagall, the only teacher at the High Table, to jump up in concern.
"Isn't this just sweet?"
The drawl from behind him caused James to freeze, fear draining the blood from his features. The comment was followed shortly by a sharp pressure at the back of his neck that ensured his stillness. Not being able to move his head kept him from knowing if it was just the one man, a bad enough situation, or if he had backup to make it even worse.
"Wouldn't Daddy be proud? His golden child associating with Mudblood and the Weasel."
The sneer in the voice was obvious and James closed his eyes, wondering if he was going to die before he had the chance to get home.
"No, don't move, Mudblood, or I kill him."
Hermione halted her reach for her wand, nervous at the close proximity of the blond man with the wand in one hand and dagger in the other. That same dagger which was point against the back of James' neck.
"Who are you?" Her voice was soft, an unusual circumstance for the usually direct young woman.
The dagger point jiggled, causing a sharp well of red blood. "James, why don't you tell the Mudblood who I am?"
James took a deep breath and tried to drown his temper behind a mental barrier. It worked and kept him from saying what he wanted to say in response, which would have likely led to his being injured. His delay, though, caused the point to be pressed harder, bringing another bright spot of blood.
"Draconis."
The fear was obvious in James' voice, even in just that one word. The other students had been stilled by the sudden appearance of a man in an area presumably blocked from Apparition and kept that way by the blatant threat he posed.
Professor McGonagall, however, was tasked with keeping order and had approached. "Who are you and what do you think you're doing?"
Draconis turned with a sneer. "Evacuate the hall, or I will kill a student."
She halted her approach for a moment in shock, but continued forward after a moment. "How dare you threaten us, sir!"
The dagger didn't move as Draconis leveled his wand towards the Hufflepuff table. "Avada Kedavra." No one really had the time to react before a third year, whose name many hadn't known, fell dead.
"Evacuate the hall, or I kill another student."
The Deputy Headmistress had stiffened in shock, but now clearly understood the threat being presented. With the other professors in a last minute meeting about Voldemort, she was alone to face this man and protect the students. At the moment, the only thing she could do was what he demanded.
"All students, exit the Great Hall through the main doors." She watched as some stood hesitantly and some rushed with panicked exclamations. A death among them was hard to handle, even for children growing up during a war. "Quickly now," she hurried along the stragglers.
"Go on, Mudblood, Weasel, little James doesn't need your help here."
Hermione and Ron edged away from the table, casting desperate looks at the pair before leaving. The professor stood, alone in the Hall with James and the unknown man. The doors stood open, a scattering of students still peeking curiously around their edges.
"Out, old woman."
McGonagall scowled and remained still.
"Persuade her, little James."
James winced at the pain in his neck, but looked to the Deputy Headmistress. "Please, Professor. It will be all right."
Draconis chuckled at that, but watched in satisfaction as she turned and left. With a wave of his wand, the doors slammed behind her. Knowing that she had likely gone immediately for Dumbledore, he twitched the knife again at James' neck.
"Stand, slowly."
James began to rise, hands on the table to steady his progress. As he did, he catalogued his environment and his likely chances to delay injury until someone could get into the Great Hall. Curling the edges of his fingers under his plate, he ducked, leaning forward as he stood, swinging the plate around to impact the knife.
The resistance to his orders should have been expected, but oddly enough, wasn't. Draconis lost his grip on the dagger and it was knocked by the impact under the Ravenclaw table. James stepped back quickly, dropping the plate, empty-handed now against a Dark Lord armed with a wand. He could feel the warm trickle of blood down the back of his neck and kept his face blank as he continued to back away.
*****
Minerva slammed the door to the Headmaster's office open, moving at a pace that few expected to see from a woman of her advanced years. Harried and slightly out of breath, she was at least still able to form full sentences. "Albus, we have a problem in the Great Hall."
A large portion of the Order of the Phoenix looked back at her as the Transfigurations Mistress gained the Headmaster's attention. It was odd to her, when she noted that both Albus and the young Mr. Potter looked at the clock first.
With a note of confusion in his blue eyes, Dumbledore stood from his chair. "What has happened?"
"The disturbance in the castle wards. A man appeared and is threatening Mr. Nathaniel. He has killed Mr. Williams from Hufflepuff and demanded the evacuation of the Hall. There was nothing else I could do but leave Mr. Nathaniel with him."
The collected members looked disturbed at the news and many began to shift and rise from their chairs. Not the least of whom was Harry Potter, who jumped up with an exclamation of "James!" and began for the door, wand already out.
"Mr. Potter!" The Headmaster's voiced paused the Gryffindor's movements, and in that moment there was another screaming protest from the castle wards. Dumbledore's mouth twitched into a grin. "I do not believe such haste is required, Mr. Potter. Please have a seat."
The group looked at the elder wizard, trying to figure out once again if he was brilliant or barmy. Harry, never one to accept such things easily, hesitated, "But, sir…"
The Headmaster shook his head. "We have an intruder in the Great Hall, yes. However, Professor McGonagall indicated he was alone there with Mr. Nathaniel." He waited for the confirming nod from his Deputy before continuing. "And now Mr. Nathaniel's backup have arrived. I do not believe your presence would be a good idea."
Harry's expression shifted into one of less desperation and there passed a moment of understanding between the oldest and youngest wizards in the room. He was silent as he resumed his seat; the others now started to demand answers.
Dumbledore, as always, shared only that information he desired to share. "Please resume the meeting, Voldemort will not delay his attack if he has set himself to the course."
Stepping around his desk, he stopped to lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I will ensure that Mr. Nathaniel has come to no harm and that he leaves safely."
Harry nodded, an odd look on his face. "Sir, could you tell him…" His voice tapered off, slightly choked. "Just tell him…" Again, he couldn't continue, his chest tight with an emotion that was hard to explain and even harder to deal with in the slightly bizarre circumstances under which he lived his life.
The Headmaster nodded. "I understand, Harry."
As the elder wizard left, the others resumed their plans for combating Voldemort. There were none too few inquiring glances towards the Boy Who Lived. Some wondered exactly what his relationship was with the temporary student. At least one knew that he would be demanding answers to this enigma later, an unexpected spurt of possessiveness giving rise anew to jealousy.
*****
Approaching the Great Hall, Dumbledore found the halls empty of students. It was amazing, in a distant way, the fact that the students would sometimes obey an imperative and sometimes ignore it. Though, he was pleased that today they were cooperative.
Nearing the doors, he did not, as he had feared, hear the noises of a pitched battle. Instead came the distant echoes of a conversation.
"What did I tell you about having a hair out of place?"
"Stop, he's safe now."
As Albus carefully opened a side door that was set to allow only the Headmaster entrance, he caught a sight that he would remember for the remainder of his years. There were two dead bodies on the floor of the Great Hall. One, the unlucky student who'd earlier been used as a demonstration. The second, a blond man sprawled facedown in still smoldering robes. But it was the three living figures that carried his attention. The youngest, James, was seated at a student bench, his head bent forward as a cloth was dabbed against the back of his neck. Behind him, an older Severus Snape fussed in a decidedly paternal fashion. A mature and distinguished Harry Potter paced around them both, looking both mildly concerned and proud.
"We would not have had to assure his safety if he had complied with you in the first place."
A roll of the eyes was the only response from pacing man, who stopped suddenly and focused on the side of the Hall.
"Headmaster."
Snape flung the cloth on the table with a huff, "Fine. I will cease my lecture, Minister."
Harry forestalled the rest of the rant with an amused smile. "Not you, git. Albus."
The oldest of the time-displaced wizards froze, his whispered answer barely carrying back to the ears of the current Headmaster. "Harry… I can't…"
The Headmaster watched as Harry ran his fingers lightly across the turned away face and then laid his hand on the shoulder. "It's alright, Severus."
He waited as the younger man then came walking towards him. It was odd to watch this older version of the boy on whom they'd laid so much. Although he did take comfort that the experience had not apparently damaged his ability to relate to others.
There was a momentary hesitation when the younger man reached the Headmaster, then Dumbledore found himself smiling as he was pulled into a strong hug. "Albus, it's good to see you again."
The older wizard chuckled and returned the hug. "May I reassure you then that young James is off home well enough?"
Harry smiled. "Yes, you will."
As the two watched, Severus eased a groaning James up from his seat with a warning. "Gently, James. Cruciatus is tiring on the system." His son wavered for a moment, but stood with a tight grip on his father's arm.
Dumbledore's eyes dimmed slightly with his question, "What happened here?"
Harry shook his head. "Just another Dark Lord, Albus. You can pass it off as a Death Eater attack. After all, he was one once."
The Headmaster nodded in understanding. Harry turned to him and gave him another quick hug. "We'll be taking his body with us. I'll need you to leave the Hall so Severus can open the portal."
The elder wizard nodded his understanding and turned to go. He was surprised when Harry pressed a piece of paper into his hand with a quick wink, but pocketed the item to look at later. As the door closed behind, he could feel the castle responding to a request and shifting its magics to comply.
In moments, all was still again.
*****
As Dumbledore approached his office again, he opened the paper he had been handed. Reading through it, he was unsurprised to find it a short note in Harry's obviously still messy scrawl. A summary of the progress of the coming battle, including notations as to when and where Dumbledore would prove particularly effective.
Most compelling was the after note. Harry, it seemed, wanted to spare his mate a lifetime of survivor's guilt and was willing to risk the future to do so. It seemed that they had seen Dumbledore fall in the battle, stepping in the way of a killing curse destined for his Potions Master. With curt descriptions, Harry had specified the situation and written a final note of his hope.
'I may be changing things, Albus. I want you to trust me in this risk. Severus has never been truly happy thinking that his life was purchased with yours.'
*****
As dusk fell on Hogwarts and the Halloween Feast would usually be commencing in the Great Hall, instead, a sense of anticipatory fear had overcome the castle. The lower level students had been locked in their dormitories, warded behind the strongest spells with which their professors could guard them.
Most of the seventh year students, those who hadn't disappeared earlier that day to face them from the other side, stood slightly apart as the adults mustered in the Great Hall. The cheerful decorations were disregarded, the tables merely a place to rest before a long evening ahead.
Harry stood on his own, neither a part of the student conversation or the last minute Auror and Professor planning. He gazed silently into the fire, settling with himself the task in front of him. Tonight he was supposed to finish this war… And although they would all be fighting, he would ultimately carry the burden. He looked up when Dumbledore called the room to order and moved to join the other students.
When the last minute instructions had been given, Harry took a deep breath and turned to face his best friends. "I would feel better if I knew you were safe inside."
It was a half-hearted statement; he knew they'd never agree. Ron simply grinned, not even bothering to respond. "The DA have their instructions. We're to keep you and your adult partner clear until you can find your target."
Harry nodded. "Voldemort…" His voice tapered off and he noted that the students in front of him no longer flinched. It seemed pointless to flinch when you were about to go into battle against his forces.
"So, mate, who's your bodyguard?" Ron's question was chipper and Harry marveled that his friend could keep calm in the face of this. Of course, he'd had a great deal of practice around Harry for the last seven years and this was just tactics… Ron had always been good at tactics.
Dragging his wandering mind back, Harry answered the question with a slightly ironic smile. "Professor Snape."
Ron blanched slightly, but nodded. Headmaster Dumbledore had thrown a mature and dignified version of a hissy-fit earlier when both Aurors and students had objected to the presence of the now publicly acknowledged spy and former Death Eater. The other students edged away slightly as the subject of their conversation joined the group.
"Potter." A slight nod to Harry before dark eyes skimmed over the gathered young witches and wizards. "Let us hope you taught Defense better than the incompetents hired to the position."
Harry had the chance to grin before they were all being directed to the doors and the approaching enemies outside.
*****
As battles went, it was both anti-climatic and terrifying. The only thing to differentiate this conflict from the prior skirmishes between the sides of light and dark was the scale. This time, rather than a few Death Eaters and maybe their Master, they faced the combined efforts of all dark wizards, witches, and creatures that were free to fight.
It was a cacophony of noise, echoing across the surface of the lake and bouncing from the towers of the castle. The glow of hexes and curses cast at times lit up the darkening sky to noon-bright, glazing the surfaces in an eerie light. Tension was in the air as spellfire brought a level of heat across their skin to play at odds with the cool of the Scottish evening. Those who lost their cloaks either intentionally or through damage did not feel their loss as they would on a calm night. The constant whine of the castle wards at so much dark magic being cast in close proximity was only punctured by a deeper thrum when a misdirected spell impacted the walls and wards.
The DA stood strong. A shifting mass of trained and loyal wizards and witches kept the majority of the threat away from their targets. Harry and the professor used their distinct links to the Dark Lord in order to locate him, guiding the group closer. When they'd approached as far as they could, the students laid down a covering fire of curses and hexes to allow the two a clear run.
Once they'd finished that task, though, the students were drawn into the random chaos of the rest of the combat.
*****
There was no one who could really say when the battle started to go their way. The tide was definitely turning, even before the Death Eaters screamed the loss of their Dark Marks. But after that point, it was a matter of wrapping up. Not that this was an easy task, but it was one taken with more hope.
When there were no more threats to fight, the process of listing the injured and the dead began. People clumped in groups, helping those less fortunate than themselves. Quarter was provided to injured on both the sides of light and dark. After all, when this was finished, they would be expected to live as a whole society again. It was not unlike any revolution that had ever taken place.
The hospital wing was overflowing with patients; the least injured being triaged in the Great Hall. Ron, guiding a limping Hermione, checked among the dead first, then the injured, seeking their friend and savior.
Gathering information as they went, they finally made it to the infirmary. The main ward was filled with Aurors. Exposed to the fiercest parts of the battle, it was not surprising that they sustained most of the serious spell and physical injuries.
They were stopped there by the Deputy Headmistress who was leaning heavily on her cane, little seen since the days of Umbridge. "What are the two of you doing up here?"
Ron and Hermione simply looked back at her with the slightly blank faces of people who would deal with things in the morning. The question was on their faces as they spoke one word together. "Harry?"
The older witch nodded and pointed towards a private room at the back of the ward. "In there."
They tried not to hurry too visibly, thanking her quickly. When they reached the back, the door to the room was shut. Suddenly unsure, they knocked first and then entered slowly. There was a tension in the room they entered.
A figure tucked into a hospital bed was flanked by the Headmaster in a chair and a bloodied young man with one hand on the bed and the other curled around his head as he hunched over. They could both clearly hear Harry's sobbing breaths, even as he physically attempted to muffle them with his own body. Dumbledore, for once, looked as if he hadn't the faintest clue what to do and wouldn't have the energy to do it if he had.
When the two entered the room, it didn't seem to even register with Harry. Dumbledore stood in somewhat of relief. "Please sit with Harry until I'm able to return."
They nodded their acceptances as the Headmaster hobbled slowly out of the room. Ron seated himself in the now vacant chair, not knowing what to do. Hermione moved towards Harry, reaching out a hand.
"Don't touch him." The voice was hissed out in a fierce whisper. Hermione's head darted up, surprised that the figure in the bed was awake and aware. What she'd previously assumed to be an unconscious professor was in fact a very observant Potions Master glaring in her direction.
"But, sir, he's…" She waved her hand slightly at Harry, indicating his emotional distress.
Snape's response was cold and sarcastic, but betrayed his concern. "Enjoying the first chance in his life to vent perfectly natural and acceptable emotions under a rather necessary silencing spell so dunderheads like yourself cannot disturb him?"
Hermione flinched back and Ron leapt to her rescue, verbally, as he'd now seen what the professor could do in an unrestrained fight. "You can't speak to her like that!"
The cold black glare moved to the redhead. "If she disturbs Harry, I will not only speak to her in that fashion, I will eviscerate her."
Both of them stopped in shock, but then Hermione smiled. "You called him Harry."
That piercing gaze moved back to her and she hesitated for a moment. Then, confident, she looked at Ron. "Come on, we should wait outside."
Ron looked confused and was rapidly looking between the other people in the room. Eventually, he nodded as he agreed, "Yeah."
The two stepped to the door and it closed behind them. Peering back through the crack as she eased it shut, she saw that a long-fingered and slightly stained hand had already moved from Harry's grasp and was softly petting the perpetually messy raven hair.
Finis