Better Than Cookies {COMPLETE}

A/N: Someone asked for a new chapter for Christmas. Here ya go. Enjoy! P.S.-Title has no bearing in this chapter. FYI. It's just random. As usual, all errors are my own.

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Hurgid watched the headmaster with something like annoyance in his eyes. Dumbledore, obviously believed he was still in control of the world around him. The loss of the Potter boy made it obvious he was mistaken, at best. A fool, at worst. The half-giant growled under his breath and watched the other Order members listening attentively to the old man’s words. Hurgid sat back in the chair and listened to the man’s newest scheme. Apparently, he viewed the loss of the Potter heir as a personal insult. From his words, it was obvious he viewed this Snape character as the responsible party. Unrealistic, maybe, but it amused Hurgid to no end.

“Harry is, most likely, with the Dark Lord. No one is to jump to conclusions about his alliances. He has given us no reason to believe he is anything less than completely loyal. Ms. Granger, on the other hand, has shown her true colors.” He swept the face’s of the Order members with a stern gaze. “She is to be captured if at all possible. Her behavior has been erratic and from what I have heard from the other children on the train, she may be responsible for some of yesterday’s events.”

“Albus, do we know where Harry is being held? Did we send Severus to get the information?” Minerva stared at Dumbledore.

The headmaster scanned the room once before answering. “Severus is, indeed, at the Dark Lord’s base. He was on his way there the last time I saw him. I expect news of Harry soon.”

Hurgid snorted to himself. It was very unlikely the pale, thin man was going to be going anywhere other than the veil. Much less, perform any reconnaissance. He smirked to himself at the thought of the potions master. His pride was truly incredible, but once it snapped, he had screamed and cried like a child. Hurgid felt himself hardening in his pants. It was a shame he hadn’t gotten more than one chance at the man.

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Harry woke slowly. His eyelashes fluttered a couple times before rising to see his surroundings. A warm feeling had taken up residence in his chest and his skin tingled pleasantly. His lips curved into a lazy smile. Someone murmured quietly in their sleep and the blankets moved as they, presumably, rolled over. Harry froze and turned his head.

The Dark Lord lay less than a foot from him, sleeping heavily. Soft snores came in time to the rise and fall of his pale chest. Puffs of air moved the bangs that fell half across his face. Harry simply stared at him for several seconds. Voldemort looked handsome and peaceful in his sleep. It was hard to believe this was the man who had killed his parents, destroyed his life. Harry’s eyes hardened at the reminder. He ignored the strange tingling in the back of his mind and slowly moved across the bed toward the opposite side.

The Dark Lord didn’t so mush as twitch. Harry scowled at the man and searched his mind for the memories of the night before. Was it morning? He looked at the window and nodded to himself. Wisps of memories came to him, nearly intangible, and he grit his teeth. He had obviously been drugged. He reached the side of the bed and stepped down onto the thick carpet that covered the marble floor. Moving with every shred of stealth he possessed, he moved around the room colleting his clothes.

He dressed quickly, aware that any moment the Dark Lord could wake and… Harry glanced at the sleeping man. It was hard to say what the sadistic bastard was capable of. Even now, he couldn’t recall what had happened the night before with any certainty. He finished dressing and walked to the edge of the bed. Several thoughts went through his head. Everything from bashing the man’s head in with a blunt object to looking for the man’s wand, went through his mind.

Finally, he clenched his fists and turned away from the bed. He slipped from the room silently and darted down the hall, sticking close to the wall. Luckily, no one emerged from any of the rooms on either side of the hall. The doors stayed closed and the house stayed deathly quiet. Harry came to a stop at the end of the hall and looked both ways. He could vaguely remember the kitchen being to the left, the dining room just beyond. To the right, was a mystery.

He chose to go right and hope to come across the entry hall without too much searching. There was bound to be a floo point there. He crept down a hall and took another right. Suddenly, he was in a large entry hall. The left wall was taken up by three fireplaces. He mentally congratulated himself even as he looked around for the floo powder. On the large mantle over the center fireplace was a gold box. Inside, he found floo powder. He grinned and removed a handful. As he stood in front of the fireplace intending to depart as fast as possible, the fireplace flared.

Harry just managed to get out of sight, as a bloody figure pulled itself from the fireplace with a loud scream. The sound echoed in the museum-like home. Seconds later, doors slammed nearby and the sound of running feet drowned out the figure’s loud moans of pain. Harry peeked around the corner to see a head of dark hair, but had to pull back when none other than Bellatrix Lestrange came around the corner. Wand at the ready, she dropped to her knees beside the figure and began rapid-fire questioning.

Harry peeked around the corner again and gasped. Hermione knelt beside Bellatrix as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He frowned and hid behind the wall again. New voices joined the first two, one sounded like Lucius Malfoy, and a tingle of magic made him shiver. The spell came from the blonde. How he knew that, Harry had no idea. Discarding it as unimportant, he remained hidden around the corner until the sound of people faded.

Taking a quick look around, he ran to the closest fireplace and threw the handful of floo powder into the flames.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he stated firmly, but quietly, and stepped into the fire.

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Hagrid felt the bond with his mate, suddenly fade. It had been too quiet for the past few hours, as it was when Severus was with his lord. Hagrid frowned and rose from his chair beside the fire. Walking to the window, he prodded at the bond. Severus’ end was quiet if he was asleep. Hagrid looked out the window and his frown deepened. The morning sun was already visible and Severus was a very early riser. Hagrid prodded harder at the bond. He noticed a block, obviously put up by Severus, and shoved past it in annoyance. It gave way with an almost audible snap.

Hagrid staggered and caught himself on the window seal, waves of agony washing over him. Clenching his jaw, he looked for the cause. The images were jumbled, confused by pain and showing no passage of time. Dumbledore’s face floated to the top, a worried look on his face. The image was followed by a Deatheater meeting and then the strong image of a dungeon. Hagrid let out a howl as that stream of visions was accompanied by sensations. He felt fury growing in his chest as something dark and frightening welled up in him.

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Severus swam in an ocean of broken glass. It cut at his back, and pain was everywhere. Blood tinged the edges of his vision. He moaned pathetically, for a moment, just wishing for an end to the suffering. A figure appeared beside him and something was forced down his throat even as he shook his head weakly. The ocean disappeared, replaced by a pillow-soft mattress.

The potions master looked up at the person speaking to him and blinked dazedly. Finally, their face came into focus. Lucius Malfoy gave him a small smile and perched on a chair beside him. His hand fluttered over Severus’ shoulder, as if looking for a place to lay a comforting hand without damaging anything. He finally patted the back of his pale hand.

“You have been unconscious for several hours,” the blonde informed him before he could ask.

Severus made to nod and hissed when it pulled his back. “I see,” he stated instead.

The blonde aristocrat grimaced in sympathy. “Yes.” He leaned forward in the chair. “Do you know who did this to you? You were incoherent when you fell from the fireplace.” He fixed a questioning gaze on him.

Severus smirked humorlessly. “I did not fall so much as crawl. I doubt I was capable of standing.” He looked away and slowly turned his head to look around the room.

“A guest room on the ground floor,” Lucius supplied.

“Ah.” Severus fell silent.

After several minutes ticked by, Lucius spoke again. “Who did this, Severus?” His voice was quiet, but heavily laced with anger.

“Dumbledore and…” Severus didn’t look at Lucius. He kept his eyes straight ahead as if analyzing the ceiling.

“And?” Lucius questioned.

Severus did look at him then, in annoyance. “Hurgid. He’s Hagrid’s third cousin from the north.” His eyes returned to the ornate gold-plated ceiling.

Lucius hissed under his breath. “A half-giant?” At Severus’ nod, he clenched his hand into a fist on the edge of the bed. “I knew there was too much damage…” His voice trailed off and his eyes fixed of Severus again. “Does your mate know?”

Severus’ head whipped around so fast, he let out a cry of pain as his back was aggravated. After panting for several seconds, he was able to reply. His voice was furious. “No. I have no intention of bringing him into this. The is no reason to ever inform him of this event.” He fell silent and focused on breathing through the slowly fading pain.

Lucius stood and walked across the room to retrieve another vial of blue liquid. Severus welcomed the cool liquid poured down his throat and the accompanying numbness of his pain. He sighed in relief and gave Lucius a small smile.

“Thank you.” His eyes closed and he heard Lucius stand and quietly make his way toward the door. Severus stopped him with, “I assume Harry is here with the Dark Lord.”

Tension entered Lucius shoulders and he turned to look at him with worried grey eyes. “He was.” With that, he left the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

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Harry stared out the window of the astronomy tower. Below him, Hogwarts was preparing for war. Dumbledore and the Order had added layer upon layer of wards for protection from the coming battle. It was not a possibility it was a certainty. Harry had returned to the castle three days before and told a story of mental torture and abuse. His story had apparently been pretty convincing because Poppy hadn’t even tried to scan him. She had simply treated his surface wounds and left him alone.

Alone was what he had been ever since. Not even his recent escape from the Dark Lord’s clutches and information about the stronghold was enough to gain the trust of the Order. Most of the members continued to regard him with distrust or, in Ron’s case, outright hostility. Harry found himself missing Hermione and the stability she offered. He had to remind himself daily of where her loyalties lie.

Harry looked down at the ground far below and sighed. With a deep breath, he stepped off the edge. He fell like a rock before tipping the end of his broom upwards at the last minute. He rocketed upwards, taking a lazy lap around the castle and grounds. As he flew, he let his mind wander. For the hundredth time since his escape from Malfoy Manor, he found himself analyzing the strange presence in the back of his mind. Unless he looked for it, it was practically invisible. Along with the odd tickling sensation that was almost always there, there was his reoccurring dream to consider.

Every night since he had returned, he had vivid dreams of the inner circle and Voldemort. In the dream, he was tied to a bed in a pitch black room. His body was touched from every direction, soft and tender caresses over his bare flesh. Voices whispered in the darkness, promises and endearments. He always awoke the next morning to find his sheets stuck to him with the evidence of his torrid dreams.

Harry sighed and finished the lap he was on with a carefully blank mind. He landed on top of the north tower and stepped off his broom. The wind blew hard from the west, whipping his cloak around him, as he strode into the castle. He didn’t see anyone all the way to the Gryffindor dormitory. The morning after he had stepped from Dumbledore’s fireplace, the castle had been emptied of all students. The sound of emptiness was all around him.

One thing Harry was still puzzling over was the absence of Snape at the Order meetings. The man hadn’t so much as shown his face since Harry had been back at Hogwarts. Oddly, in his absence was one new member to the Order. Hagrid always sat at the back of the room next to another large man who carried a faint resemblance to the groundskeeper. Harry wondered if the other giant was related in some way. However, Hagrid was not his usual jovial self and avoided talking to anyone at meetings unless he was spoken to. Harry had seen a flash of anger in the man’s eyes every time Snape was mentioned. He was pretty sure the giant wouldn’t hurt him, but he stayed away from him, nonetheless.

The other giant watched him with obvious interest. It made Harry’s skin crawl and made the whispers in his mind stronger, but he didn’t mention it to anyone. Dumbledore obviously trusted him, so Harry ignored the warning bells. Occasionally, he caught the headmaster watching him. It was impossible to decode the expression, but it made him edgy. He tried even harder to give his all at his training he had taken up again when he arrived.

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Dumbledore frowned as he watched Harry leave after an Order meeting. The boy was obviously confused. It probably didn’t help that another memory spell had been placed on him soon after he arrived. Once the boy had reported everything useful, his memories were locked behind a wall. The strange thing was, when he had placed the memory charm, he had noticed another older charm. At the time, he hadn’t had the time to wonder about it, but in the past few days it had been on his mind.

What could possibly be in the boys mind. It was obvious from the power signature that Harry had been the one to put the charm on himself. Why, was what Dumbledore wanted to know. He shook his head at himself and turned to Hagrid with a bright smile. The half-giant just nodded in return and left.

The groundskeeper had been a great surprise. It had been his understanding, Snape had some sort of relationship with the large man. As disgusting as the thought was, it couldn’t be denied that Hagrid was a helpful addition to the group. It was impossible to discern what he thought of the other half-giant, as the two had spoken less than two words to each other since they met. Hagrid had simply acknowledged the relation and ignored Hurgid from that point on. Whatever the relationship between his potions master and groundskeeper, they were obviously not mates. A relief, since he planned to dispose of the ex-Deatheater as soon as the battle was over and he lost his usefulness.

Had then been mates, both would have had to be conveniently killed during the final battle. Though, the lack of action from Hagrid made it obvious he had no idea what had befallen his little fucktoy and thus, had no idea the headmaster was responsible. Dumbledore smirked to himself and caught Hurgid’s eye. The large man moved to his side and walked with him to his office.

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A/N: I think I'm nearing the end of the story. I've been thinking about doing a Hagrid/Snape story that takes place before or during this one. Any thoughts?