Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

A/N I am back! A heavy dose of life and a certain angel kept me from Eileen's story! I will have to go missing occasionally in the next few weeks but this will be finished by July.

Thanks Kims for betaing


Twenty-Six

Narcissa looked like a child. She sat in bed propped up by pillows and Draco lay cuddled up against her. Her eyes met Severus’ as he walked into the room.

She smiled at him, weakly. The blood that had been smeared in her hair had been washed away by Molly and Eileen, and her wounds soothed by the salve that they had made only the day before.

If it had not been for that salve and for the little boost of healing that Harry had given the unconscious woman, then they might have lost her too, but right now she looked better than Draco did.

If any one of them had doubted how much he loved his mother, then they would have changed their opinion tonight; Draco had been inconsolable when he had thought she might die. Harry had kissed him, then gently pushed him out of the way; he had placed a hand on Narcissa’s abdomen and the two of them had glowed with a similar iridescent light to the one that had been generated when Harry healed Eileen. Narcissa’s ragged breathing had slowed and become deeper and more normal and Poppy had pronounced the woman safe to take upstairs.

Draco had insisted on carrying his mother himself and Severus had just been glad that Arthur had dragged Scrimgeour and the assorted aurors who had accompanied him into the adjoining sitting room - Severus rather thought that far too many secrets had been shared tonight already; he wanted to speak to Narcissa to find out how much the woman knew about the prize that she had brought them.

So far the only people who had known about the horcruxes were those of them actually living at Grimmauld Place. That meant the Weasleys, Granger – but she and Ron had known for a while and had not said a word – Lupin, Eileen and, of course, Tonks. Severus wondered if the girl had been tortured and had told of the Horcruxes. Maybe he had been wrong to tell so many people? Severus felt the familiar heaviness of guilt settle around him; he had to speak to Narcissa and find out what she knew.

He could not believe that he was still here and safe that the aurors had not taken him. Harry simply would not let them.

Harry had surprised him yet again that night. Just when he thought that he fully understood the boy, Harry would do yet something thing else that he never would have predicted.

His discussion with Rufus Scrimgeour earlier was a case in point.

Severus wasn’t exactly sure he would be able to describe what had happened between his nephew and the Minister for Magic if anyone asked him, or how Harry had managed to send the man away so thoroughly cowed, but he had and without having to threaten or raise a blow.

After Draco and Narcissa had left the room in the charge of Eileen, Harry’s next immediate worry had been Lupin. It had only taken the boy mere moments to heal Narcissa, but in that time Scrimgeour had ordered his aurors to drag Lupin away from the dead body of his lover and restrain him.

Harry was furious and he had rounded on the Minister.

“How dare you! You come barging in here, endangering me, endangering my family, endangering our place of safety. Then instead of apologising for the mayhem, you turn on more members of my family!

“Attacking my uncle wasn’t enough for you. You now turn on my parent’s oldest friend! He is grief stricken! His fiancée is dead!

“Are you completely stupid or what?” Scrimgeour looked stunned at Harry’s words; he actually flinched when Harry called him stupid and started backing away from the firecracker that Severus’ nephew had become.

“Calm down, boy!” he said. “The werewolf is out of control, and your uncle is a Death Eater and a murderer. These are difficult times, child, and you are not safe here with these people. When Dumbledore was alive at least, you were safe, but they cannot be trusted. You are still very young you cannot be expected to have enough experience to be able to tell who can help you in the year ahead.”

When Severus looked at his nephew’s face he could see the anger there; the boy was barely containing his temper.

“I am not a child,” he said, quietly controlled. “I have been hunted and forced into battle since the age of eleven. I learned a lot over the years and I have found that, on the whole, I am a good judge of character. I can tell who are the right people for myself!

“I did not choose this war - it was forced upon me when I was still a little child! But I will be victorious, I will not let Voldemort win. I do not care about power, Scrimgeour, but I do know that I have it and, if you keep pushing at me, then I will stand up to you and I will do it publicly and who do you think the wizarding world will support? You, a career politician who is not terribly popular, or a so-called boy hero, tragically orphaned at an early age and, apparently, bravely soldiering on?

“Support me, give me what I need and stop throwing your weight around like a bully, and I will not speak out against you. You can have your glory as far as I am concerned, but keep treating me and my family like this and I will have no choice.

“My uncle was forced to kill Dumbledore, by Dumbledore himself. It put my uncle in a perfect position to spy for our side and it protected me and prevented Malfoy from being forced into murder. He did his duty, however distasteful he found it, and he would still be with Voldemort if it were not for the fact that he could not stand by and watch Voldemort destroy yet another life. Severus Snape is a brave and honourable man and it is about time that everyone recognised it!

“You are not taking him with you, and if you try you will have to go through me.

“If my Godfather could be condemned without a trial to twelve years in Azkaban, I am not taking any risks with my uncle. You can set him free now and I’ll take your promise in writing.”

Harry stood as tall as he could. He barely came up to Scrimgeour’s chin in height, but somehow, right then, he seemed monumental. As wizards, they could all sense Harry’s magical power now; there was sense of it a tingling in their bones. But the force of his personality was even stronger. Harry had been hailed as a hero since the day that he had been attacked by an evil wizard when he was still a baby and yet, right now, there was no doubt that Harry had truly earned the mantle that had been forced upon him.

For a long moment the ex-auror glared at Harry and Severus guessed that not many men could meet that steely gaze without flinching.

But Harry could.

Severus had often heard of ice being described as blue. But the ice that seemed to sparkle in Harry’s eyes was green. Green ice.

They were so expressive, Harry’s eyes. Over the last few weeks Severus had read a myriad of emotions in them, from joy to uncertainty, from sorrow to tenderness. But right now they were hard, unwavering. Harry was not going to give Scrimgeour an inch of slack in which to manoeuvre and Severus was quite simply astonished. Severus had seen Harry’s power, his incredible bravery, but he had never seen him behave in such a way before.

Harry seemed to know exactly how the wizarding world viewed him and, moreover, be entirely happy to use those misconceptions for his own gain. Of course, there had been a time when Severus would have accused the boy of using his fame to gain preferential treatment, which was exactly what the boy was doing right now. But Severus could hardly complain; Harry was, after all, using his power to protect Severus, and he was doing it in a way that was almost Slytherin.

Severus wondered how many layers made up Harry’s personality. Just how many hidden depths did he have?

Harry had given Scrimgeour his terms and then he calmly waited for the man to crumble. And crumble he did.

Oh, at first Scrimgeour had spluttered and fumed. He had muttered on about boys getting above themselves and not being all that important in the grand scheme of things, and needing to ensure that they did not overreach, but Harry just raised one eyebrow and waited until the man calmed down.

Finally Scrimgeour nodded; he looked diminished, defeated. “You can have what you need. I will leave Snape alone. The pensieve testimony will be made public and the Malfoy boy goes free.”

Severus could not believe it. Just like that, after all these years. He was sure he looked like an idiot standing with his mouth open.

He wasn’t alone; the seven aurors that had crashed into their home earlier all stood watching closely too. Scrimgeour had miscalculated again. He had undoubtedly expected Harry to be easy to bully into submission, though where he had gotten that idea, Severus had not a clue. He just knew that trying to force Harry James Potter to do something that he didn’t want to do, something that clashed with that overdeveloped conscience of his, was rather like trying to stuff a wild goat into a string bag.

But Harry had won. Scrimgeour had made all the concessions, not Harry, and Severus realised what an amazing man his nephew had become.

“Right, let’s go. Let’s get out of here,” Scrimgeour said, turning to the assembled aurors and getting ready to leave.

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” Harry said coolly.

“No one is leaving here until they have been obliviated about this location. This is my home and my sanctuary I am not giving it up because the security has been breeched because of one man’s jealousy and paranoia.”

Harry glared at Moody as he said this and Severus was astonished again when the other man could not quite meet Harry’s eye.

“I don’t think that I can allow you to leave knowing the location of my house. You’ll have to be obliviated.”

Scrimgeour looked like he was barely holding his temper now.

He spluttered, “I…you…want to obliviate my aurors? Obliviate me!”

“Oh no,” Harry replied, “I’m nowhere good enough to just remove the relevant information; I don’t have the skill and I don’t want to damage anyone. My uncle will have to do it.”

The look on the minister’s face could only be described as completely and utterly stunned. The man was dumbfounded. He was opening and closing his mouth looking for all the world like a stranded fish.

This time Severus knew that Scrimgeour would never acquiesce, not in a million years. Allow the filthy Death Eater spy to get anywhere near his precious aurors with a wand?

But he did. He gave in immediately, seemingly without even a fight.

He thought that if he lived to be 150, he would never forget the sight of seven powerful, Ministry-trained men lined up like lambs waiting for Severus to obliviate them.

And Harry just stood with his arms crossed and watched the proceedings.

Once all of the intruders, apart from Kingsley and Moody, had been through the magical procedure to which the Minister had agreed, Fred and George agreed to help their father escort the rather confused men away.

Kingsley stayed because he wanted to be there for Tonks.

He told Severus that he had been the one to kill Bellatrix; they had caught her several weeks/months/days (or something to this effect) during a raid on a family of muggles and she had been caught in the crossfire. Tonks had been asked if she would spy, disguised as the insane Bella, and had managed to pass herself off on five separate occasions. But this time obviously her luck had run out. Kingsley looked devastated.

“It was my idea,” he whispered. “It’s my fault. She was so young, she should have had her life ahead of her. How did you do it, Severus? How did you stay undetected for so long?”

Severus had been surprised by the respectful tones that Kingsley used when he spoke to him.

“I never suspected you, Severus,” he’d said. “When I came on tonight’s raid, it was to try and protect you somehow. Moody has had it in for you for a very long time and I have known that you were on our side since that night you appeared in the kitchen with Harry and saved him. But I had suspected before that. You don’t deserve this sort of treatment. You are a brave man.”

Severus had flushed then.

Such praise from Kingsley, who was himself a very brave man, was unexpected but very heart-warming.

“Mind you, I needn’t have bothered, need I? Harry seems to have this situation under complete control, doesn’t he?”

He grinned over at the boy, showing perfect white teeth against his smooth, dark skin.

There was no doubt who was in charge of the little confrontation that was taking place between Harry and Moody. The old auror was much taller than Harry and outweighed him by at least a couple of stone.* (I presume you’re put a note about weight/stone at the end?) But Harry was standing very close to the older man and berating him for his actions and Moody stood there, hanging his head like a recalcitrant five-year-old, occasionally peering at Harry through shaggy brows.

They could hear the occasional phrase from Harry’s tirade: “..letting your irrational dislike cloud your judgement.”, “you are the one who can’t be trusted if you carry on like this…could have ended in disaster…..one more chance, that’s all!”

“He really is the Chosen One, isn’t he Severus?” Kingsley continued. “He isn’t a child any longer. When you brought him back that time, he looked so broken and battered, I thought defeat was imminent, but he seems so powerful, so in charge now.”

And Severus had felt something that he never thought he would feel again: he felt proud. Proud of his nephew, a boy that he had hated and despised for more years than he cared to remember. A boy whom he had belittled and sneered at, who had in turn given him his freedom.

He had no doubt that he would still be disliked by many in the wizarding world - some would never forgive him for what he had done - but Scrimgeour would do as he had promised; by this time tomorrow, Severus would be legally free.

When Moody left he had held out his hand and apologised to Severus.

“Boy trusts you, thinks very highly of you and he knows his stuff! I’m sorry about earlier, I’m sorry to have caused such unpleasantness. It won’t happen again.”

He and Kingsley had had to get back, but they had promised to return the next day. Tonks had been moved into the adjoining dining room and finally it was only Severus and Harry that were left.

“Thank you, Harry,” he had said. “Thank you for defending me.” And the boy had blushed and waved off his thanks and gone in search of his friends.

Leaving Severus to seek out Narcissa and the answer to a number of questions.

“Severus,” she said when he walked in to the room in which she was staying, “thank you for saving my son.”

Her gaze fell on the blond boy curled at the bottom of her bed.

“You have taken good care of him for me; he looks so much better now. I never thought you would turn to Potter.”

“I have my reasons, Cissa,” Severus said as he sat by her bed. “I will tell you of them if you tell me what happened to you.”

For the next few hours he and Narcissa sat and talked. Quietness fell over the house as, one by one, the other inhabitants went to bed and Draco, lying at the bottom of his mother’s bed, covered only by a tartan blanket, slept on.

He told her about his relationship to Harry, how he had recently found out about it and how he had been a spy for the light for more than twenty years.

She told him how, after Severus and Draco had disappeared, the Dark Lord had had her restricted to one room of the manor. How she had grown increasingly disturbed by Voldemort’s instability and ever-crueller tortures of both his enemies and his supporters. She told him how she had been taunted with what had happened to Draco and how she had worried about him, his safety.

She told him how the Dark Lord had seemed completely insane when he’d learned of Severus’ defection and how she had hidden the locket, knowing that Voldemort had been looking for it hoping to use it as a bargaining tool with Potter. She didn’t know what it was, simply that it seemed to be important.

“Kreacher brought it to me after Sirius died,” she said. “That’s when I began to suspect that we were on the wrong side. We fought, but he was my cousin and I…..I cared for him. When Lucius ended up in Azkaban, I thought the Dark Lord would help us. But tonight, Severus, tonight he was torturing Lucius; they got him out of prison to see what he knew. I think he killed him, Severus. He left Cruciatus on him for so long. He can’t have survived that, surely not?”

She began to sob.

“He was looking for the locket, and he thought Lucius had it so he tortured him.”

Her eyes were haunted. “He was screaming, Severus. There was nothing I could do. He was begging for mercy and I couldn’t save him. And then, and then Bella was there and she had my arm and she dragged me to the fireplace on the other side of the room while they were all watching Lucius, listening to his agony. I think he must be dead, my proud lovely husband. But how do I tell Draco?

“We were just about to step into the flames when they noticed and came after us; she had seen the locket and told me to keep it safe. By then I knew she wasn’t Bella but I didn’t ask her name. We were already in the flames when she was hit with Avada Kedavra. She saved my life and I don’t even know who she was.”

Narcissa was crying openly now.

“Do you know her?”

Severus felt infinitely sad; Narcissa Malfoy had been saved by the child of the sister she had professed to despise for years. He nodded sadly.

“Her name was Nymphadora Tonks and she was a hero.”

His heart clenched with guilt for the thoughts that had crossed his mind earlier with regards to the girl who had bravely given her life to save Narcissa. He wanted to find Lupin, comfort him for his loss. But he was very sure that, right now, Severus Snape was the last person that the werewolf would want to see.

But Narcissa was looking at him, stricken, shocked.

“Tonks?” she whispered in horror. “Andromeda’s child? Oh Severus, what have we done? What have I done?”

Severus never knew how long he sat there and held her that night while his childhood friend sobbed in sorrow and in despair. Her son beleaguered by a curse, her husband either dead or insane and most of her immediate family lost or destroyed. They had paid a heavy price indeed for following evil and now Narcissa finally felt the weight of realisation and of truth. She had no option left but to live with her guilt.