Centre of Twilight

“Albus, I really think we should talk,” Remus said, his head just visible in the Headmaster’s fire. “We found something out and…well, the floo network isn’t terribly secure.”

“Say no more.” Dumbledore shook his head, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be right along.”

Remus smiled his thanks and disappeared with a soft pop, leaving the Headmaster to finish his letter. It was a reference, written largely against his better judgement but serving as a consolation for expelling Seamus Finnegan when, according to his mother, he’d simply fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Dumbledore wasn’t entirely happy with that idea – or with the idea of stating that, despite being expelled, Seamus was a balanced, well-rounded individual who was more than capable of becoming a trainee curse breaker for Gringotts. But then, he thought, sealing the envelope, why should one mistake tar the boy’s life forever? Better that he write a bland sort of letter and allow the goblins of Gringotts to make their own decisions.

That done, the Headmaster then stepped down to Professor McGonagall’s office to tell her where he was going. However, upon arriving at her office, he found that the Deputy Headmistress wasn’t there. He sighed and wrote a short note:

‘Minerva,

I’ve been called away and can’t say for how long. I will endeavour to return this evening but, at the outside, will be back tomorrow morning.

Hogwarts is in your control; should you require assistance, I’m sure Severus will help you.

Warm regards,

Albus.’

It wasn’t much of a letter, he thought critically. But he really couldn’t advertise where he was going or why. Still, the school was in good hands and there was little that his Deputy or Third-In-Charge couldn’t handle.

Leaving the note on Professor McGonagall’s desk, he made his way back to his office and disappeared in a flash of floo powder.

*~*~*

‘Severus?’ Harry sent the thought out yet again. ‘Sev, can you hear me?’

As before, he was answered by total, impenetrable darkness and the little knot of anxiety in his stomach grew considerably in size. It was nearly eleven o’ clock at night and, given that the Potions master had said he’d be home early evening, Harry was really starting to worry now.

‘Sev, please! Just answer me! Just tell me you’re okay!’ he pleaded silently. Had he done something wrong? Could Sev have suddenly decided he didn’t want Harry anymore?

And then…something…came to him. It wasn’t a conscious thought or an attempt at telepathic speech, but more like…

Harry shook his head, wondering if he’d simply imagined it, when it came again. It was a very slight disturbance – like a ripple in a glass of water and just enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck: instilling the idea that his lover was in trouble.

Harry chewed at the skin beside his thumbnail, agonising over what he should do.

‘Draco?’ he sent the thought up then, not really expecting an answer. There was nothing; the Slytherin Prince was clearly too busy or too wrapped up in Goyle to respond to him. Or maybe he’s shocked and offended by what you did, suggested a little voice inside? Maybe Draco despises you now you’ve taken a new lover.

“This is stupid!” Harry snarled aloud and threw himself to his feet. Without a backward glance, he decided to trust his instincts and seek out Dumbledore.

*~*~*

“I’m sorry, Potter,” Professor McGonagall shook her head, “but the Headmaster isn’t here right now.”

Although she was in her office, the Deputy Headmistress was wrapped in her warm, tartan dressing gown and clearly wasn’t pleased to be disturbed quite so late at night.

“But I need to see him!” Harry exclaimed, feeling small suddenly and out of his depth. With a deep breath, he struggled to hold on to his patience and explained, “Professor Snape went out today – he went to London – and he hasn’t come back yet!”

“Potter, that is hardly cause for panic.” Professor McGonagall rebuked. “It’s Christmas; even teachers deserve some time to celebrate, you know.”

“But not without me!” Harry argued, without thinking of whom he was speaking to.

Professor McGonagall’s lips went very white as she drew herself up to her full height and glowered at him. “Potter, Professor Dumbledore might choose to indulge you,” she began, “and I admit, myself, that I have a certain soft spot for you.” Her features softened slightly, “But that doesn’t mean that you have the right to lay claim to Professor Snape. Now, I’ve had my doubts about your relationship with him before and I should warn you that I’ll be having stern words with both the Headmaster and the Potions master, in the morning.”

“Assuming Snape isn’t dead in a ditch, somewhere!” Harry retorted sharply. He could feel the initial stirrings of his power; feel it flowing from Draco and…

Again, he felt that little ripple and he realised then that, whatever it was, it was coming straight from Severus.

“I felt him!” he exclaimed, thoughtlessly.

Professor McGonagall paused mid-tirade about the conventions of respectable behaviour. “I beg your pardon?” she demanded, looking horror-struck.

“I mean,” Harry shook his head, “I was trying to contact him – telepathically – and it wouldn’t work. But then I felt something and -”

“Potter,” she interrupted, shaking her head, “it’s very late. I suspect that Professor Snape simply met up with some old friends and went for a Christmas drink. However,” she offered a reassuring smile, “if he’s not back by the morning, we’ll talk with Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond and then thought better of it. She was wrong; Severus would never just go drinking – Harry wasn’t even sure the man had old friends – and he’d never just ignore Harry.

Giving the Deputy Headmistress a false little smile, he nodded and returned to his rooms, hoping against hope that his lover would be there.

*~*~*

“So this is Oscar’s bag?” Dumbledore asked, lifting the little red rucksack.

Remus nodded, “Well, it’s the bag that Thomas brought with him when he fetched Oscar.” And then, glancing once at Sirius, he opened the top flap to reveal the words:

‘Property of Mr Daniel and Dr Jenna Litworth.’

Dumbledore stared at it for several minutes and then drew a deep breath. “What’s the boy’s surname?”

“Litworth too, I suppose.” Sirius replied, “Thomas’ surname was Litworth and he was planning to marry Oscar’s mother.”

“Am I right?” Remus asked then, “It was Jenna Litworth that was helping Harry, wasn’t it? The psychologist? She’s Oscar’s aunt.”

“By marriage only, if that’s the case.” Dumbledore responded thoughtfully. “Her maiden name was Jenna Adams – she went to school at the same time as you two.” He offered a small smile.

“The little mousey kid?” Sirius exclaimed, suddenly remembering, “The one Lily took under her wing?” he frowned then, “Didn’t we beat Snivellus and his crowd into a bloody pulp for bullying her?”

“You and James used to beat the Slytherins up on a semi-regular basis, Siri,” Remus replied coolly. “But you may be right. I think I do remember her now.”

“So she must have married Thomas’ brother, then?” Sirius looked at the Headmaster, who nodded silently.

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at the rucksack and then appeared to come to a conclusion. “I’ll contact Jenna tomorrow,” he said slowly, “and see if she’s in contact with Thomas’ family still. Judging by this, though,” he gave the bag a little shake, “I’d say she was.”

Remus opened his mouth to add something but was interrupted by a small, plaintive wail from above. Thomas had woken up.

“Allow me,” Dumbledore smiled, “I’ve always had a way with small children.”

“So does Padfoot,” Remus grinned and showed the Headmaster the way up to Thomas’ room, leaving Sirius to make some coffee.

*~*~*

Harry paced – back and forth and back, once again. Over and over, he sent out the same silent message, “Sev, please, tell me you’re okay. Tell me where you are!”

But nothing – not even the minute ripple – came back.

Finally, when his legs and hands were shaking uncontrollably, Harry dropped into one of the armchairs and tried very hard to calm down; all the while, struggling to keep the magical energy from building within him.

So Dumbledore was away and McGonagall was no help, he told himself firmly. Draco was ignoring him, for whatever reason, and Hermione was away with the Weasleys. That left him with…whom?

“Remus,” he muttered to himself. The man had seemed happy to see him the other week, hadn’t he? He had even mentioned something about Christmas…

Harry had no idea where the man might be but he knew it wasn’t a full moon and so decided to try Sirius’ old house at Grimmauld Place.

Taking a pinch of floo powder and fighting down the memory of Sev helping himself to the same pot, just this morning, Harry threw it into the fire and stuck his head into the green flames.

“Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!” he said loudly and felt the bizarre spinning sensation that only affected his head.

And then, pushing aside the memories attached to this, he opened his eyes and peered up at the old, shabby kitchen. Someone – it had to be Remus, he thought – was spooning coffee into three mugs and warming what looked like a child’s beaker. Before he could consider what Remus would want with an Any-Way-Up cup, though, Harry saw the man turn round…

And it wasn’t Remus. Staring at him in complete, open-mouthed astonishment was Sirius Black.

“Harry,” Sirius said, startled, and then took a step or two forward, “Harry, what’re you doing here?”

But Harry couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak. Instead, he pulled his head back and fell away from Snape’s fireplace. For several long minutes, he simply lay on the hearthrug and stared unseeing at the ceiling.

Sirius. Sirius was alive and well and living at Grimmauld Place, he told himself over and over again. Sirius was alive and Remus had to know, as would Dumbledore; yet they had lied to him, deceived him…

A slow, burning rage began to build in his stomach and rose at an inexorable pace until it threatened to choke him if he didn’t let it out in some way. And with it, came the magical energy. It shivered through his torso; as seductive as it was terrifying and he couldn’t stop it; couldn’t push it back or earth it – not without Sev and he was gone.

‘Harry?’ Draco’s voice came to him, sounding alarmed, ‘What’s going on? Where are you?’

Clearly Draco had felt the shift of energy and so thought that Harry must be under attack.

“Draco,” Harry gave a sob, still lying on the floor. The magic shifted again, swirling up from his motionless body in a shimmering cloud like heat waves and the need to howl out his rage and despair overtook him.

‘Oh, shit,’ Draco muttered. ‘Hold still, Harry, I’m coming.’

It seemed then to Harry that he could feel as well as hear the other man’s footsteps as he ran down the corridor towards their quarters; the pounding resounded on the stone floor, echoed off the walls and resounded within Harry’s head.

‘Harry!’ Draco shouted within his head, charging through the door and only coming to a halt when he reached Harry’s side, sliding the last couple of feet. Once there, with no hesitation or even thought of their recent separation, he gathered Harry into his arms, trying without success to calm the other man’s helpless shuddering. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘I can’t…hold it…’ Harry ground out, squeezing his eyes shut, “…the magic…it won’t go away.’

‘Then send it to me.’ Draco instructed calmly, ‘Come on, Harry; you linked with me – before anyone else - our connection is strong and I can take it!’

With another shuddering gasp, Harry pressed his face into Draco’s chest and whimpered before giving the energy a little shove.

‘Good. I felt that,’ Draco urged encouragingly. ‘Give me some more.’

Slowly, aided by his former lover, Harry released the painful pressure of the magic and, only when Draco had taken a good-sized amount, was he able to think clearly again.

‘So what caused this, then?’ Draco asked after a while, ‘And where’s Sev?’ He flexed the fingers of one hand, whilst still holding onto Harry’s body. The magical energy was passing through him; diffusing gently and being reabsorbed.

“Gone.” Harry shook his head and wiped at the tears on his cheeks. “He went to London, this morning.”

‘Yes,’ Draco nodded, ‘we spoke.’

“You did?” Harry lifted his head, “When? I didn’t hear you?”

‘I was still blocking you,’ Draco smiled ruefully and looked down into Harry’s face. ‘I’m sorry…for everything…”

He lapsed into silence and the two of them simply gazed at each other for several seconds. And then Harry stirred, recalling the moment of seeing Sirius and a renewed shiver of anger crossed his shoulders.

‘Hey,’ Draco thought to him, ‘just tell me. Show me – whatever it takes – but don’t let this turn you into a human torch again.’

‘Is that what I looked like?’ Harry wondered and then, at Draco’s frown, he explained. “Sev’s been gone too long – he said he’d be back early this evening – and Dumbledore’s not here, McGonagall wouldn’t listen to me, you…” he shrugged. “Well, anyway, I thought I’d try Remus – you know, I wouldn’t have to explain why I was so anxious about Sev…” and then he couldn’t continue. So instead, he showed Draco his memory of what he’d seen.

‘Sirius Black?’ Draco stared at him, ‘I thought he was dead.’

‘He is – was – but not now, it seems.’ Harry responded bitterly, ‘But why didn’t anyone say? Why did they keep it from me? Was it because it was all my fault?’

‘We’ve been over that before,’ Draco shook his head. He shifted a little as Harry moved to sit up on his own. ‘It was just circumstances -’

He was interrupted though and halted abruptly, mid-speech. Another ripple stirred across Harry’s subconscious and, judging by Draco’s expression, he’d felt it too.

‘Shit.’ He swore again, looking suddenly alarmed.

“It’s Severus, isn’t it?” Harry asked, “I don’t know why he can’t talk to us, but it’s definitely him.”

Giving him a look, Draco shook his head. ‘I’m getting waves of fear – as well as anger!’ he said shakily. ‘Wherever he is, Sev’s really frightened.”

But of course, Harry thought, Sev and Draco could share one another’s emotions. He couldn’t, though. So instead, the waves of feeling had simply come to him in a vague, intangible whisper. But –

“What the hell has ever frightened Severus Snape?” he demanded.

‘Only one thing,’ Draco replied seriously, staring at him with wide eyes. ‘Or rather,’ he added, ‘one person.’

‘Voldemort.’

And as if responding to the utterance of the Dark Lord’s name, Harry’s scar erupted with a stab of vicious, burning pain, drawing a gasp.

“Well, I guess that answers that question,” he said, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. “Next question is, how do we find Sev?”

Draco regarded him carefully for a moment and then stroked soothingly at the lightning scar.

‘Get me out of Hogwarts and I can probably follow the emotions like a trail,’ he said eventually.

‘You’re suggesting we go and rescue him? On our own?’ Harry asked silently. Once upon a time, observed a voice within, he would have already been out the door and halfway there without even pausing to consider that the mission might be dangerous. But now…

Well, it wasn’t that he was afraid for himself; more that he was wary of endangering Draco – especially considering the last time he’d been taken off the school grounds.

‘Are you suggesting that we stay here and wait for Dumbledore to return?’ Draco countered, raising fine, blond eyebrows. ‘Bearing in mind that I can feel what Sev’s feeling, I really don’t rate that idea.’

‘Can you feel what he’s feeling now?’ Harry asked, studying the other man with earnest green eyes.

Draco nodded. ‘But I can’t hear his thoughts. Either he’s beyond conscious thought or they’ve got him in some kind of dampener field.’

“Like they had planned for me,” Harry said, thinking of the physical combat training that Snape had insisted he learn; finally confessing that Voldemort intended to recapture him.

Harry, though; not Severus!

‘It could be a trap,’ Draco remarked, hearing his thoughts and watching his face.

Harry shook his head, “Doesn’t make any difference,” he said, “I’m still going.”

*~*~*

“Sirius, calm down – are you sure it was Harry? Are you absolutely positive? It wasn’t a Death Eater spy, disguised as Harry?” Remus pressed, pushing his lover into a chair. Dumbledore took the next seat along and frowned, looking concerned and disconcerted.

“No!” Sirius shook his head furiously, “Well, it looked a hell of a lot like Harry -”

“Polyjuice would do that,” Remus remarked but Sirius only shook his head again.

“If it was a Death Eater spy, they would have leapt in and attacked. They wouldn’t have stared at me as if I was a ghost and then fled.” He dropped his head into his hands then and groaned, “Gods, Moony, why did we keep it a secret? What must he think, poor kid!”

“For the sake of Harry’s own state of mind, we had to keep it secret,” Dumbledore interjected. “And, just for information,” he added, “the floo connection to this house has been warded. Only those who have visited this house in the last eighteen months can access the floo.”

Sirius grunted in reply and then lifted his head once more, turning piercing blue-grey eyes to the Headmaster, “What do you mean, ‘Harry’s state of mind’?” he demanded, “Just how serious was his condition?” He shot his lover a swift, searching look before Dumbledore answered, drawing his attention once more.

“Harry was…very different to the young man of a year ago. The events within the Ministry left him with wounds that might have healed if he’d had some time. However, with the abduction and Lord Voldemort’s subsequent treatment of him, Harry’s wounds just got deeper. So, when Severus rescued him in September, the boy was even more altered. He was dark, Sirius; his entire outlook on life was tainted by all that had been done to him over the summer and all that he’d been forced to do.”

“Remus mentioned that,” Sirius nodded, “but surely having to murder one scabrous Death Eater wouldn’t create such scars?”

“Well, for one thing, remember that he’s only sixteen and, although his home life hasn’t been ideal, he was never a hardened street urchin. He was a boy, little more than a child. For another,” Dumbledore added and then paused, collecting his thoughts, “I believe that there were other killings. I have no proof – and, of course, wouldn’t dream of enquiring – but I believe that Amelia Eskin may have been a victim. It’s been so long since her disappearance and, even though her mother still holds to the belief that she’ll return…” he shrugged sadly.

“Millie Eskin?” Sirius stared at him, “I’m sorry, Albus, but are telling me that my godson killed a friend of mine?” He pushed his chair back, away from the table and began pacing up and down the length of the kitchen. Beneath the pale grey shirt that fell to his hips in soft, heavy folds, his shoulders were tense and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I think,” he growled then, “that you should tell me everything – and I mean,” he emphasised, glaring at the two men, “everything.”

“Wait a minute,” Remus held up one hand, “shouldn’t we try to reach Harry? I mean, he must have been looking for either me or Dumbledore for a reason?”

“No one knows I’m here,” Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry was probably looking to wish you a merry Christmas, Remus.”

“Even so…” Remus responded doubtfully. “I think we should try and contact him. He’s probably in quite a state.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Dumbledore nodded and moved towards the fireplace.

Taking a pinch of floo powder, he then cast it into the flames and requested, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Professor Snape: Living room.”

“WHAT?” Sirius exploded, turning on his heel to stare at the man’s back. Seeing that the Headmaster was already in communication however, he turned to stare balefully at Remus. “What did he just say.”

“Siri, don’t shout; you’ll wake Oscar.” Remus chided and then, when his lover looked about ready to boil over, added, “Perhaps Harry is just visiting with Severus?”

Sirius was prevented from responding to that when the Headmaster stood up and took another pinch of powder. Without turning round, he then recast and requested, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Professor McGonagall: Living room.”

“Remus,” Sirius snarled quietly, stalking towards him, “it’s almost bloody midnight. What, precisely, would Harry be doing in Snape’s quarters at this hour?”

“Perhaps…” Remus began, shifting uncomfortably, not really having an answer. “I don’t know, Siri. Maybe Albus can answer that question but,” he gave his lover an imploring, almost pained look, “try not to fly into a rage, okay? Albus is right, Harry’s been through absolute hell and he’s only just starting to come back to us.” He didn’t add, however, that seeing his godfather might have sent Harry reeling back a dozen steps.

The Headmaster straightened then and turned to face them as the flames behind him returned to their normal state. “I’ve just spoken with Minerva and she assures me that everything is perfectly fine – no fire, no floods and no Death Eater armies laying siege to the castle.” His blue eyes twinkled for a moment before Sirius stepped belligerently towards him.

“Just what the…” his lips paused on a coarse swearword and, given that he was talking to the most powerful wizard in the world, then chose to tame his words. “Albus,” he growled, “could you explain to me just why you would expect to find Harry in Snape’s personal quarters at bloody midnight?”

Well, he had almost made it without swearing, Remus thought quietly. He looked too at the Headmaster then; curious in himself as to what explanation Albus would give.

“There are, I think, a few things that I should tell you about Harry.” Dumbledore said carefully. He moved closer to the table once more and sat down, nodding silently when Remus gestured towards the kettle, offering more coffee. “Before I do though,” he added, “I want a solemn Wizard’s Oath from each of you that you won’t attempt to discuss this with Harry. It is vitally important that this aspect of his life – his history – remains private to him. In any other situation, I wouldn’t share this information with anyone, but I believe you need to understand something of what has shaped his personality.”

“I don’t get it,” Sirius shook his head, sinking into a chair as well, “what does any of this have to do with Snape?” But then the Headmaster simply pierced him with those bright blue eyes and Sirius changed his mind. “All right, yes, you have my word!” he sighed. “My solemn oath as a wizard.” He corrected himself.

“My solemn oath as a wizard.” Remus repeated, nodding.

Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgement of their vows and paused to collect his thoughts.

“I was only recently made aware of this,” he began slowly, “- of what Voldemort saw fit to do during Death Eater meetings and what he required – no, demanded – of Harry.”

He paused again there and very slowly lifted his face to look at where Sirius was staring at him in steadily mounting horror.

“Voldemort used Sanguinarius Control to force Harry to act in ways that he wouldn’t normally choose.” Dumbledore explained and glanced at Remus who was nodding to indicate that he knew of such a spell

“Presumably that’s how Voldemort made Harry kill Avery and Millie?” Remus asked. He brought over the mugs of coffee and grabbed a jar of biscuits too.

“Hm.” Dumbledore responded shortly. “But there were other things – other acts – that Voldemort had Harry play.” He sighed and started again. “We recently discovered that Harry has old scars on his shoulders – bite marks.”

“What?” Sirius shook his head, “I don’t understand? Voldemort had someone bite Harry?”

Remus, however, had gone very pale. He had, on occasion – when the full moon was drawing near – bitten Sirius on the shoulders or the back of his neck. Caught in a fit of raw passion whilst buried deep inside his lover, he had sunk his teeth into that delectable flesh. He had never drawn blood, though and had never left scars.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered shakily, forgetting who’s company he was in.

“What?” Sirius stared at him and then, finally, realisation dawned. He snapped his head round, gaping at Dumbledore in silent horror. “You mean…you mean to tell me that Harry was raped?” His voice was low, hoarse, little more than an appalled whisper.

“In a manner of speaking,” the Headmaster replied, looking extremely saddened. “Remember that Harry was under Sanguinarius Control so he would have responded as Voldemort would dictate.”

Remus put down his coffee mug and pushed it away, looking sickened. “So Voldemort no doubt had Harry shag others as well as taking it himself.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, Albus; that was crude. That poor kid!”

“As Severus himself pointed out to me,” Dumbledore gave a weak mirthless smile, “Harry is no longer a boy. His innocence was ripped away from him and he was forced to do and be done unto to. Such a thing had a massive impact on his personality.”

“So how does this connect to Harry being in Snape’s quarters at this hour of night?” Sirius demanded and then his face darkened alarmingly. “You’re not trying to tell me that Harry…and Snape…?”

“No, Sirius,” Dumbledore shook his head, looking impatient and a little annoyed, “of course there’s nothing between them. Severus is a teacher – a man in his late thirties – and Harry, whilst no longer an innocent boy, is still only sixteen.”

“Yeah…’course.” Sirius muttered before apologising.

“I’m merely saying that you have to consider Harry’s current mind-set.” Dumbledore went on. “Because of what happened to him and because he felt unable to share the information with anyone – except possibly Mr Malfoy, I suppose – he turned away from his own friends in Gryffindor house and took comfort in Severus’ counselling. The man, I’m sure you’ll agree, is austere in the extreme and Harry, I think, found it refreshing to be in such a person’s company. Certainly, when with Severus, he wasn’t going to be fussed over or treated like an invalid or a baby.”

“No,” Sirius shook his head, “and I get why Harry wouldn’t want that, but to go so far in the other direction! To deliberately seek out a man who hates him so as to avoid difficult conversations - conversations in general, for that matter! I mean, Snape’s hardly a chatter-box, is he?”

“Nevertheless,” Dumbledore shrugged, “Harry wanted his company and, when Draco moved into Snape’s quarters – as his ward -” he added to head off Sirius’ next exclamation, “Harry expressed a wish to move in too. And just for the record,” he added with a small smile, “Severus doesn’t hate him. I have no idea quite how Harry won him around but Severus is really very protective of him.”

Sirius made a face and sat in brooding silence for a short while. Then, looking up once more, he frowned and said, “You mentioned that Harry might possibly choose to share his experiences with Draco; are they really so close?”

“Not at present.” Dumbledore shook his head, “They had a quarrel, I believe. Before then, though - yes, they were very close. But, you see, Draco would most likely have witnessed some if not all of Harry’s ordeals. I don’t know, of course, but I’m guessing that as a Death Eater in training and Lucius Malfoy’s son and heir, Draco would be expected to take part in the rituals going on while he was at home.”

“Sounds like Severus probably had his hands full with both of them,” Remus shook his head. “You just can’t begin to grasp how messed up Draco and Harry must be.”

“They’re better now, than they were – thanks mostly to Severus.” Dumbledore replied, giving Sirius a firm glance. “You understand, though, why we couldn’t tell Harry of your return?” he asked and, without words, Sirius nodded, looking troubled.