Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

A/N ~ and so the story moves on. This chapter is pretty intense in places, it is not fluffy like the last few chapters - just be warned!

My betas are both back! Missed you girls I'm glad that RL issues are a bit better now

Twenty-Five

Severus was applying the salve to Lupin’s back. He had protested, of course, because he did not want to be this near to the other man. To actually have to touch him was almost unbearable. But who else was there? The effects of the new formula had to be observed and there was no way he was letting this beast anywhere near his mother.

But he didn’t want the creature too close to him either, did he? He could not let him get too close ever again. Severus had built his walls so strong and tall for a lot of reasons, but a major one was the man in front of him right now.

He was steadfastly trying to ignore his discomfort and, deep down, the stirrings of something else when the werewolf spoke.

“How is Harry, Severus?” Lupin asked, “Did you talk to him?”

“Whether I talked to Harry or not is hardly any business of yours, Lupin! He is my nephew and my relationship with him is between us. I am not about to dissect it with anyone who shows a tiny bit of curiosity.”

Lupin flushed. “I am hardly just anyone, Severus,” he said, valiantly trying to defend his rights. “I am his parents’ oldest friend! Their only friend left, come to that.” This last statement was so quiet that Severus barely heard it.

“Well you did a very poor job of protecting him, didn’t you?” Severus sneered.

Remus whirled around and then winced at the pain in his shoulder, which he had wrenched quite badly the night before. His face twisted in a wry smile. “We all did a very poor job, didn’t we Severus?” he finally said, keeping his head bent from then on and avoiding looking at Severus.

Severus finished the remainder of the cream in the jar he was holding, smoothing it over the shoulders of the werewolf. He thought that for someone who took little exercise as far as he knew, Lupin was surprisingly well muscled. He berated himself for thinking such thoughts and rubbed the potion into the wounds that marred Lupin’s back far more harshly than he had first planned. The werewolf bit his lip and kept silent.

The salve really did seem to work like a miracle cure; Severus could see the skin knitting under his ministrations, the redness left by the scars rapidly disappearing and he could not help feeling a little excited. Never, in all his years as a potions master, had he known anything with quite this potency. He even felt quite hopeful about the wolfsbane. He wasn’t about to tell Lupin about a possible breakthrough, however, well not yet at least. Besides he wasn’t working on the improvements in order to help Lupin, was he? He was trying to look after Draco that was all.

He had finally run out of the creamy yellow ointment; he idly wondered whether the sample of fur that he added to it had had that effect, had turned it yellow? He had some more potions on the dresser so he went to fetch one and promptly fell over the large sledgehammer that was leaning against the side of the cumbersome piece of furniture.

He didn’t hit the ground, he recovered himself quite well and then he turned to see that Lupin was trying – not very successfully, in his opinion - to hide a grin. Severus bristled.

“I suppose that you think it funny that I almost broke my neck?” he snarled.

“I’m sorry Severus,” Lupin replied, “but you do so love your dignity and you did look funny!”

Severus scowled. “Why would anyone be foolish enough to leave something like this lying around anyway?” he asked grumpily.

“It’s Harry’s, I think,” Lupin replied evenly. “You have been walking past it ever since you arrived, and you have not fallen over it before. Is something distracting you?”

Severus felt himself blush.

“He should have put it away before now! Why would he want to have the wretched thing anyway?”

“I believe that he and Ron were using it, when they demolished the wall on which Sirius’ mother’s portrait used to hang. That’s how they uncovered the cellar door.”

Severus hardly felt mollified, but he decided to at least try to be civil. As far as he was concerned, that was as much concession as Lupin was going to get.

“I wondered what had happened to that miserable cow.”

“Apparently Harry had had enough of her ranting about Sirius, so one day he just demolished the wall. Luckily that particular wall was not a load-bearing one, and they found a better entrance to the basement because of its removal. I don’t know if it helped him much in the end, he still misses Sirius dreadfully.”

“Yes, well! He has Mother and me now! He doesn’t need that mangy mutt of a godfather any longer!”

Lupin looked at him sadly. “That comment was beneath you, Severus.”

Severus harrumphed. But he walked back to where Lupin was sitting with the retrieved salve. “I need to do your chest, so I think you had better stand.”

This time he was gentler, but Lupin refused to meet his eyes. Severus rubbed extra ointment into a particularly large gash in Remus’ chest. He could feel the other man’s breath on his face, warm and gentle. The scent of Lupin, a somewhat musky, woody scent surrounded him and sank into his pores, to his skin. Lupin smelt of the wild.

They had not been this close for a long time. He should have told Lupin to apply the salve on his chest himself; he should not have allowed himself to be so near. He made the mistake of looking at Remus, only to see brilliant amber eyes watching him closely. They were unfathomable those eyes and they did not blink.

Those lips were so pink and promising. Tempting.

Severus leaned in, just a bit closer. Remus tilted his head very slightly to the side. They were both breathing hard. He could feel Remus’ chest rise and fall beneath his hand. He closed his eyes and found himself being drawn inexorably toward the other man.

“Oh really Ron, Ginny is old enough to make her own decisions and she has liked Dean for a long time.”

“But Hermione….”

The two men sprang apart.

Hermione stopped her entrance and looked at them both, her eyebrows raised slightly. Severus was mortified to find that he was blushing.

“You had better get your shirt back on Lupin,” was all he could say, “you might embarrass your little girlfriend otherwise, when she deigns to return.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Sorry Professor Snape, Professor Lupin. Are we interrupting you?”

Severus harrumphed again.

“I’m no longer your professor, Miss Granger, and neither is Lupin; I am getting very tired of being incorrectly addressed.”

“Look Mr Snape,” Ron said, “we have been calling you Professor for the last two weeks Harry has been calling you Professor for the same amount of time. Well, the bits in which he was awake anyway! Why are you getting in such a snit now, for crying out loud?”

Severus flushed again. He was, as Weasley said, in a snit. But this time he was determined not to take out his temper and - he admitted it himself if no-one else - his feelings of attraction, his awareness of Lupin, his frustration, on anyone else. He had not been forced to spend so much time with the creature since they were at school. Even the year that he taught at Hogwarts, Severus had barely seen him. But here in this house, the man seemed to be around every corner, in every room that Severus entered. And much worse, as far as Severus was concerned, Lupin seemed to matter to Harry.

He knew he was being churlish and bad tempered, but he could not seem to stop himself.

“Call me whatever you like, boy!” he snarled, whirling on Ron, before storming out of the room. To do so he had to pass Lupin and he saw the werewolf’s nostrils flare. He knew well what the man could smell: Severus’ arousal.

He stayed upstairs in his tiny room for more than an hour. It was cramped up here amongst the eaves, but the space was his alone. He felt very grateful to Harry for securing it for him; sleeping on a camp-bed in the library had done nothing for his temper or his self-esteem.

He lay on the bed for a while and stared at the ceiling and thought about things. He had very nearly kissed Lupin then. What the hell was he thinking? Lupin was engaged to Andromeda’s brat and whatever Severus was, whatever he had done, he was not about to barge into the middle of anyone else’s relationship. There was no doubt that Tonks – stupid bloody name if ever he heard one – loved Remus very much. But, if he was truthful with himself, he loved Remus too, had done ever since he was fifteen years old.

It had nearly killed him when he had found out about Remus’ lycanthropy. Not just the fact that if it had not been for James Potter, he would have literally been torn apart. But also the tiny detail that Remus had never told him; not once, not in all those weeks together, had he said a word about the fact that he turned into a rampaging beast every month.

Maybe it had slipped his mind? Maybe he had not considered it important? Maybe he had not considered Severus important. Whatever it was Re…No Lupin. Lupin. He had to remember to call him that, even in his own mind; otherwise the werewolf might sneak in past Severus’ defences again, like he almost had tonight. When they had nearly, when they had almost… Severus shook his head. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to think about him. He hadn’t done, not for years, not until this last week or so.

If only Lupin had told him. Would things have been different? Would Severus have accepted a werewolf lover? Like Harry had done, without a qualm? Or would he have rejected him, pushed him away? Severus would have liked a chance to make that decision.

But he was not going to think about this now. Eileen wanted them downstairs for Harry’s birthday tea. She had been furious when she found out that his birthday had passed without acknowledgement, his seventeenth birthday at that. Not that it was anyone’s fault exactly that Harry’s birthday had passed without celebration. The boy had been unconscious for most of the last few weeks.

They were not able to do much at such short notice, but Eileen had organised the Weasley twins to sort out some things and Molly had made a cake. They had cobbled together some presents and detailed Draco to keep Harry occupied; a task that he seemed to be uncommonly good at, considering the fact that neither of them had emerged from their room for the last three hours.

So he put on his mask again - the one that stiffened his features and told the world that he was cold and unfeeling. The mask that was showing a few cracks these days but still held firm enough for now. And he went downstairs to join the celebration of his nephew’s coming of age.

Harry was smiling.

He was smiling more broadly than Severus could ever remember; he had even laughed a couple of times. For a little while he looked like a normal teenager. He and Ron were currently throwing something called Cheesy Wotsits at each other. Severus thought that the wotsits looked particularly noxious and imbued with nasty muggle chemicals. He thought that throwing them at each other was probably a better idea than eating the dreadful things.

Hermione loved them apparently, but Severus didn’t think that was any reason to inflict the appalling rubbish on the rest of them.

Harry had shocked them all, yet again, when he had told them rather shyly that it was his first ever party. That the colourful rubber objects that were it seemed called balloons were something he had always wanted as a child and never had. He hadn’t even opened the small pile of presents yet he was still too enamoured with all the other attractions.

He was seated at the head of the table, on the birthday chair. This was apparently a Weasley tradition. The child whose birthday it was got to sit on a chair, which was specially decorated with crepe paper that changed colour, and streamers and copious amounts of bizarre balloons, all of which had Harry’s name scrawled across them.

“Right, my loves, time to dim the lights,” Eileen’s voice floated in from the pantry and at once the torches burned low as she walked through the door carrying a magnificent cake which was lit with the glow of seventeen candles.

Then came the strains of the time-honoured song, “Happy Birthday to you…”

It was sung with gusto if not in tune and Severus was surprised to find his own eyes prickling with tears as he watched the joy and astonishment on the face of the young man in front of him.

Eileen placed it on the table right beside Harry and everybody cheered. “Well go on love,” she said, “blow out the candles, make a wish.”

Harry’s smile widened and he closed his eyes to prepare to do just that.

The front door flew open with a crash, almost coming of its hinges with the force of the blow. It was Moody and a group of Aurors; they were armed, their wands out and they looked ready for battle. Kingsley Shacklebolt was with them and a number of younger men that Severus didn’t know. They knew him though.


“There he is!” one of them shouted, pointing at Severus. “Seize him, before he gets away!”

“No!” It was Harry. He had somehow moved from his seat whilst everyone else was reeling from shock and dashed towards the intruders.

Moody was bellowing, “Azkaban has been breached tonight! What did you have to do with it, Death Eater?” He moved towards Severus purposefully with a murderous expression written clearly on his face. Severus was under no illusions about what would happen if he went with these men: he would not be back in a hurry.

Then Scrimgeour came in behind his Aurors. He hesitated for a moment, sparing a look of disgust at the shabby surroundings and then he fixed his sights on Severus.

Severus wondered idly at what they would have said if Old Mrs Black’s portrait was still on the wall or what she might have said to them.

He almost laughed; he was thinking of daft old biddies when Scrimgeour’s minions had finally arrived. If he was honest with himself then, he wondered what had taken them so long. Moody had been waiting since the day Harry had made him give Severus and Draco their wands back, biding his time; well obviously his time had arrived!

Severus moved forward. He didn’t want his mother to see him being arrested with force. If he went with them without showing any resistance then maybe they wouldn’t manhandle him too much in front of Eileen.

Draco however, did not move. He resolutely looked at the floor as if searching for salvation in the cold gray stone.

“Back off, Moody! All of you, just leave them alone!” It was Harry who had spoken, Harry who moved to stand in front of them, between Severus and Draco and the Aurors.

“He is a Death Eater, Potter! He was instrumental in getting The Dark Lord’s men out of Azkaban and then he’ll be coming after you.” The grizzled old Auror was snarling at Harry.

“Moody, that is complete and utter bullshit! Do they do a course at Auror School in talking total bollocks?

“Severus has not left this house for the past three weeks and he has been here all day, working on potions and helping…trying to help, me celebrate my birthday.”

“He hates you Potter, you foolish boy!”

“No. He. Does. Not! And do not call me boy!

“He is my uncle, my closest living flesh and blood male relative. He will not hurt me, he is on my side. He has defended me and looked out for me since I was a child.

“He had to be seen to hate me; it protected his cover, he was very important as a spy.

“If you try to take him from here tonight, then first of all you have to go through me!”

The air around Harry crackled with power. He did not even have his wand - that lay unattended on the dresser - but several Aurors backed away from him anyway.

Severus was astonished. Harry had just insinuated that the hatred that he had displayed for Harry was all pretence, when he knew, they both knew, come to that, that for many years it had been all too real. Harry had just staunchly defended him against the Minister for Magic.

The total shock that settled over the faces of Scrimgeour and the Aurors would have been funny if the situation was not so strained.

Severus’ hatred of Harry was legend amongst the Order, he knew that for certain, but Harry was still protecting him, and he didn’t look likely to budge anytime soon.

Scrimgeour had halted, he seemed confused. There was no way he was going to tell his men to attack the Hero of the Wizarding World.

He caught sight of the bright decorations, the pile of presents, the group of people gathered round and his face paled. He took a look at Harry’s expression and paled some more. He had realised, Severus guessed, that he had miscalculated. This infringement would not look good in The Daily Prophet and there were far too many witnesses to cover up his intrusion on the Chosen One’s celebration.

Severus knew the expression on Harry’s face all too well; he had been on the receiving end of it often enough. Harry was not about to budge anytime soon. That fierce determination meant that nothing that the other men did or said were about to change his mind.

But Harry was continuing.

“Severus is a hero, he has given up a lot, he has risked his life time after time for this war and I will not have him insulted in our own home.”

“But he killed Dumbledore!” Moody roared, indignantly.

“Yes he did,” Harry agreed. “But at the headmaster’s order. He did as he was told and I have evidence of that. You are not taking him, not tonight, not ever.”

Scrimgeour’s eyes shifted to take in Draco.

“Draco is my lover; you are not having him either!” Harry gaze challenged the Minister. It was steady, strong, unyielding.

The impasse might have lasted all night. Scrimgeour might have prevailed, or he might have given up and gone home. They would never know.

Because, just then, the Floo flared open and two battered figures fell through, badly dishevelled and covered in blood.

One of them, a woman with dirty long blonde hair flying loose, almost obscuring her features, was barely conscious. She was reaching out as if seeking salvation, as if trying to break her fall. It was Narcissa Malfoy.

The other figure drew screams of terror the instant she was recognised: long black hair, tangled with fair, mad, staring eyes.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry was at the hearth first, instantly ready with a curse on his lips, but he stopped suddenly. His back was rigid, he seemed horror struck. Finally Severus rushed forward too; it had only been a second that he could not move., but with Bella, however, even that was more than long enough.

Bella was falling, slowly her body was collapsing, her arms wrapped securely around her semi-conscious sister, her mouth wide in a silent scream.

Harry stopped, did nothing, he was standing watching her fall, Severus looked at him with puzzlement, for a moment or two and then he looked again at Bella.

He let out a guttural shout of astonishment. Her features seemed to be melting, her face was transforming. Her hair was growing shorter, her nose shrinking, her cheeks rounding and becoming pink. She was changing, faster and faster. And Harry had seen the changes first. That's what had halted him. Harry had been closer, watching carefully whilst everyone else had been looking elsewhere.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Remus ran forward, he almost got there in time; he almost caught her before she fell.

Almost.

The two women crashed heavily to the floor and something fell out of Narcissa’s hand to land with a light metallic sound at Harry’s feet. Her eyes caught the boy’s for just a moment and then they rolled up and showed only white, before her head fell forward and she slumped onto the cold stone floor.

The metamorphmagus - for it was indeed she and not Bellatrix who had brought them here - saw nothing; her eyes had not been staring madly, they had been blank. They would not see anything ever again; they would not dance with laughter or cry with sorrow. Nymphadora Tonks was dead.

The room erupted, screams, shouts, panic. The aurors seemed dumbfounded, they looked to Scrimgeour for advice, orders, but he seemed as frozen as the rest of them. They seemed helpless in this sudden mayhem these brave defenders of the magical world.

“Merlin help us all!” Severus ground out. For if this was the only defence that they could offer against the Dark Lord, then they were truly all doomed.

Draco was screaming for his mother. Ron had held him back when the woman they had thought to be Bella had come through the floo. But now his jaw dropped as he witnessed her rapid transformation back into her real form. He released the screaming, squirming Malfoy. Draco was across the room before anyone could stop him and on his knees beside his mother, stroking her hair, keening. Still Harry had said not a word. Severus turned to the boy; he was worried about how his nephew would deal with such sudden unexpected death.

“Harry?” he began.

Harry ignored him, he was staring at something that he held in his hand, it was a piece of jewellery, a necklace.

“What?” Severus said. Harry’s eyes met his, his gaze steady, fierce. That look, it silenced him, he could speak no more.

“It’s a horcrux, Severus,” he whispered, so that the aurors would not hear. “They’ve brought me a horcrux. It’s Slytherin’s locket.”

Then Harry too stopped speaking and turned to look at Lupin. Draco was cradling his mother, whilst he frantically checked her over. Lupin held his fiancee tenderly, tears rolling down his cheeks unchecked. Then the quiet that had fallen over them all of a sudden, as everyone watched the crazed scene that was taking place, was shattered by a long, primeval howl of utter grief and despair.