Harry Potter and the Plan of Salvation

I can feel soft hands touching my face and slowly I drag myself from sleep. “Harry.” That voice is calling me, and I should know it, but it’s so unfamiliar, as though I’ve heard it but not for such a long time. I want to open my eyes, and slowly that voice brings me to consciousness. There. If I’d been standing I would have fallen. “There are you Harry. Sweet, Harry. My precious little boy. You’ve grown up now little one.” There’s a pause and then the soft hands change and become so very cold and hard. “To be a monster.”

I jerk away with a terrified whimper. “No. I’m not a monster, I’m not.”

“Yes you are. Look at everyone around you. They’re all dead. Their deaths lay on your hands because you’re a thoughtless monster. Don’t you seem? m? Your Father, me, Sirius, Cedric, all those who’ve died and more to come and it’s all your fault.”

“No!”

“Yes! Look at your hands you stupid boy, that blood will never come off!” She tilts her head and bends low, hissing in my ear. “You deserve death, Harry. You deserve pain and humiliation. Not els else.”

The voice fades, but not before hissing one word that fills my soul with terror. “Crucio!” My body bursts into pain and I scream repeatedly over and over.

*~*~*

Two bodies awakened, one screaming in pain while the other realized slowly that he had been pushed out of Potter’s head, just as the pain begun. How the hell had that happened? Severus glanced at his clock. It was only a bit past twelve, so the spell shouldn’t have quite worn off yet.

The only explanation was that somehow Potter had thrown him out. He suddenly jerked wide-awake as he remembered the pain that had been starting and the dream. He was out of the bed and dressed in his outer robe in no less than thirty seconds, and in forty-five he was running up the halls. The painting of Salazar’s pet snake looked at him and opened soundlessly allowing him to dash inside.

“Draco! Wake up; I need to get in Potter’s room!”

Draco blinked. “One, I’m not asleep.” He was indeed sitting up in his bed writing in a book. “Second, why do you need in his room?”

“I can’t explain it now, Draco, but I have to get in there to help him.”

Draco, who was out of the bed before he finished talking, grabbed his cloak to hide his face again and then walked into the bathroom. He faced a bare, stone archway and muttered. “Prefect intuition and Head Boy privilege, let me into Gryffindor 7th years bathroom to help him again.”

The arch melted away into a door and they walked through it together. Their steps became hurried as they went through the next door; yet cautiously slow as they approached the bed Severus knew to be Harry’s. “I don’t hear anything, but surely that silencing spell isn’t strong enough to hold back those screams.”

Draco looked up at him alarmed, face pale beneath his hood. “That spell he uses could mask death screams.” He grabbed the curtain and yanked it back hard. The sight that met his eyes was just as disturbing as the way they’d found him at the Dursleys.

Harry was screaming, silently due to the charm, his body writhing in torture as he clutched and clawed at his sheets, his eyes unfocused but on a point no one else could see. Severus shoved his way through the silencing barrier as he felt into his pockets. The screams were soul tearing, causing chills to slide up his spine and he motioned Draco to help him. Draco paled further at the screams coming from his friend’s throat. He moved quickly as though knowing what his godfather would ask, and got behind Harry, pulling him up against him so that his head was tipped back but he had his arms pinned so that he couldn’t thrash. Severus slowly and carefully poured the vial down Harry’s throat, his long fingers carefully coaxing the liquid down.

It wasn’t until his eyes closed again and his body drained of movement that Draco noticed the blood. “Dear God. He’s reopened the wounds on his back.” The whisper was so hoarse that Severus almost didn’t hear, but looking up he saw that there was indeed blood all over the sheets and now Draco.

“Levitate him, Draco, and we’ll take him to Pomfrey.”

“No!” The vehemence of the response surprised him even after earlier. “I can’t do that to him Sev. He’ll never forgive me.”

*~*~*

No, no, no, no, no, no! Not going to say it. I am not going to say it. I am not going to say it. I WILL NOT SAY IT. “Very well then. We’ll take him to my chambers.” Damnit! I said it. I sigh defeated, and whisper a quiet charm to cushion his body as I lift him into my arms. He still whimpers in pain, but the fact he doesn’t scream tells that the charm works. I nod to Draco and he moves ahead as I maneuver Potter’s body past the beds, careful not to bump him.

We slide soundlessly back the way we came, and reach my room without incident.

*~*~*

Draco watched as his godfather placed his friend onto the oversized bed. Severus was careful to lay Harry on his stomach and then began to remove the clothing. Draco reached out and caught his arm though. A deep sigh lingered in the room. “Draco, I know that you are loyal to him for reasons beyond my understanding, but you have to let me help him. You and Miss Weasley have been doing an admirable job for someone without training, but you’ve got to let me help now that they’ve reopened.” Draco’s shoulders slumped, the look on his face was utter defeat. “He will not hold this against you, Draco.”

A flick of the wand later and Harry was stripped from the waist up. Only his years as a Death Eater and spy kept Severus from showing his reaction to what he saw. The bruises he had seen earlier were nothing compared to this. Blood seemed to pour from everywhere on Potter’s back, from cuts and sliced open skin, most of which went deep into the muscles. Burns of all degrees littered what precious little skin wasn’t cut up, and they were raw and looked infected, not to mention the amount of tissue damage. No wonder Potter was in so much pain lately. How the hell had the boy been making it through his classes for a week without anyone growing suspicious?

Severus sighed and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. “Draco, go get a washcloth and soak it in hot water, then I want you to get a towel and cast a steaming charm on it.”

Draco nodded his head and then hurried to do as directed. The washcloth was brought back in mere moments and Severus began to carefully wash the boy’s back while Draco steamed the towel. It took almost thirty minutes to wash all of his back, trying to be careful around the ripped apart skin and not do more damage. By then the towel was good and hot and Severus carefully laid it across Potter’s back, allowing the heat to begin pulling out some of the infection.

“Why are you doing this without magic?”

“Because his injuries are literally one over top of the other. I want him to have some rest, at least for the rest of the night, before we try healing him. The towel should draw most of the infection to the surface. I don’t want to close his wounds in the morning and leave bacteria festering beneath.”

Draco looked amazed. “How do you know how to do this?”

Severus smirked. “That’s my secret.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be informing Miss Weasley of where her friend has gotten to?”

“Oh! Right, I’ll be back later.”

Severus sat on the same side of Potter’s bed with his back propped against the headboard. Every now and then he’d recast the steaming charm and hush Harry back to sleep if he started to rouse.

*~*~*

Draco’s right. I was so wrong about this child that its unbelievable, even to call him a child is wrong. Did he ever even have the time to be a child? To play with others and just be happy? Somehow I doubt it, and I can’t help thinking that somehow I’ve contributed to this. Hell, I know I have. I was so sure when he got here that he would be just like his father. Sheltered and arrogant and everyone bowing to his every whim. But that’s not how he was at all. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now, and Lord all those remarks I said to him.

How long had they abused him? Had it always been this way, or when he first showed signs of magic, or what? I don’t understand it.

I card my fingers almost absently through his hair, watching him slumber. I gave him a dreamless sleep potion a few hours ago to insure his rest. How had we all missed this? When the boy first arrived here no one said anything about how small he was, and I guess no one noticed that every summer he came back thinner than when he left, or did we just not want to notice? I’ve been too blinded by my hate to see, but what of the others? Minerva and Albus – they dote on the boy – they should have seen this shouldn’t they? Flitwick has always gotten overly excited about anything that has to do with the boy and he’s razor sharp. Hell, there have been more students to come through this school that have been abused due to their death eater parents than I would care to remember, and always someone has noticed. Even Trelawney will stop being stupid to try and help, but no one saw this.

I look at his arms and sigh. I wonder if Draco had noticed these. I hope not. They’re old though, scarred over, and I hope that means he doesn’t still do it. Cutting. The very thought of it chases chills down my spine. It would be an issue to discuss with him after I’ve healed his back.

He shifts slightly and whimpers. The sleeping draught is wearing off. He opens eyes slowly and looks up at me. I expected him to freak out when he woke up. I probably would have to wake up next to someone like me. Instead he closes his eyes again taking a deep breath.

“Guess he told, huh?” That voice is nothing like the one I remember. It’s hoarse and dry and pained.

“Not everything. He had to have help last night though; you ripped them all open again.”

The eyes remain closed. “Voldemort is a sadistic bastard.”

I can’t help the quirk of my lips. “That’s true.”

He starts to try to push himself up, but only succeeds in getting an inch off the mattress before the pain makes him cry out and collapse back into the pillows. “Ow.”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter.” I stand, careful not to make the bed shift too much. I don’t want to jar him.

*~*~*

Snape moved around the bed, pulling some bandages out of a dresser drawer. Harry didn’t need to ask why he had bandages in his room. He’d seen the Death Eater meetings after all. “So tell me, Mr. Potter, are you ready to admit you need help?”

“I knew I needed help. I just didn’t want anyone to know, but since I’m already half naked on your bed and you’ve seen it, it’s a rather moot point, isn’t it?”

Severus nodded and pulled out another jar of the salve Draco had been using. He added several others in his arms and after selecting a last blue one walked back to the bed. Harry eyed everything in his arms curiously. “I know that one.” He whispered, pointing to a red and runny solution.

Severus couldn’t help but to blink in surprise. “How do you know this one? We’ve never made it in class.”

Harry swallowed, before answering, regarding his professor warily. “I… I had to make it after fifth year.”

Severus didn’t ask why, it was again, a question for after the healing. “Are you ready for this?”

There was a deep long breath that was held for several long moments, and then Harry nodded. Snape moved next to him, removed a small yellow vial, and then began the torture, errrr healing.

He had expected screams as he had witnessed the night before; instead he was met with silent pride as he carefully tended the wounds. Tears were the only sign of how much pain the healing actually caused.

Despite Snape’s best and most gentle urgings (Holy Hell since when am I gentle with the bloody bane of my existence?) Harry refused any sleeping draughts to make the situation easier on him. He remained awake and conscious through the whole ordeal, allowing the almost soothing things that Snape was saying to drift over his mind, giving him something to focus on other than the pain. Only when the last burn and gouge were healed did he allow himself to sink back into the welcome darkness.

*~*~*

A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts and I look up. I know who it is without asking, because I know that knock. “Come in, Draco.”

A moment later my godson walks around the door. He glances towards the closed door, and Draco tilts his head regarding me.

“How is he?”

“He’ll live despite his hard headedness, I assure you.” I lean my head back against the wall, balancing my chair on two legs, watching my student closely as I prop my feet on the desk. “Draco, it’s time that you tell me a lot more than you have. It’s the only way to completely protect him.”

“I can’t. He doesn’t have to go back there again, so it doesn’t matter if I don’t tell. I gave him my word as his bond brother.”

That gives me pause. “Bond brother? When did you do this?”

Draco pales. Evidently he hadn’t meant to say that. “I… when I started teaching him the Dark Arts. We were about a month into it and I thought that he’d trust me more.”

I can’t help smirking. My perfect little Slytherin is so good at half-truths. “So it was to make him trust you more?” He nods and I smirk again. “It had nothing to do with the scars on his arms then?”

Draco looks frozen in place. Not a look I often see on my Slytherins. He seems to sag, and the air of arrogance dissipitates as he drops to the gd ned next to me, resting his back against my legs as he did when he was a child. “Okay, so maybe it had a little to do with that.”

I knot my fingers lightly in his hair and tug his head back so he’s looking up at me. “Tell me the truth Dragon, and I’d prefer the whole of it.”

“I told you that I found him in the tower several times other than the first. One time I came earlier than usual, I don’t know why I just wanted to go early. Harry was already there, but he didn’t hear me come in, so I stayed back a bit not wanting to bother him. It was only then that I realized why he was always there.” He looks up at me again, directly in the eye, and once more I allow myself to be swept away in the memories.

The door opens silently, and I ease my way inside, my eyes already spotting the small figure leaning against a wall, surrounded in moonlight. The shadows on his face make him look eerie, pensive, and scared all at the same time. But it’s the look in his eyes that’s frightening. They usually spark with life and laughter, or anger, but now they seem dim, and dull, pain echoing somewhere within those depths.

It takes me a minute, but then I realize that music is filtering in the room, and I can only guess that somehow he’s charmed a song to play whenever he wants it to. I’ve never heard it before and I can only assume it’s a Muggle song. I listen to the lyrics as I watch him, and think how much it seems to echo him.

How can you see into my eyes like open doors
Leading you down into my core
Where I’ve become so numb without a soul
My spirits sleeping somewhere cold
Until you find it there and lead it back home

(Wake me up) Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up) Wake me up inside
(Save me) Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up) Bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up) Before I come undone
(Save me) Save me from the nothing I’ve become

Harry looks so tired. The moon light glitters off of something I hadn’t noticed before, and I frown, leaning my head slightly to get a better look and then I feel my blood run cold. In his hand is a long black and silver dagger, and blood is running freely down his arms.

Now that I know what I’m without
You can\'t just leave me
Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life
(Wake me up) Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up) Wake me up inside
(Save me) Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up) Bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up) Before I come undone
(Save me) Save me from the nothing I’ve become

As I watch in horror he raises the blade, places it to his arm and drags it slowly across the already bleeding skin. I know my breath just hitched in a rather loud gasp, but he doesn’t seem to notice, and I can’t move. I’m frozen here in the shadows, unable to leave and pretend I saw nothing, or to move forward and yell at him for his stupidity. The lyrics are washing over me, yet I barely register most of them.

Frozen inside without your touch without your love
Darling only you are the life among the dead
All this time I can\'t believe I couldn\'t see
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought without a voice without a soul
Don\'t let me die here
There must be something more
Bring me to life

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can’t wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark
(Wake me up)
Bid my blood to run
(I can’t wake up)
Before I come undone
(Save me)
Save me from the nothing I’ve become

(Bring me to life)
I’ve been living a lie, there’s nothing inside
(Bring me to life)

He raises the dagger again, and makes to slice his skin, this time much lower, not too far above his wrist, and the sudden thought of him hitting that vein urges me forward. I grab his arms and he looks at me in shock. I shake my head slowly at him, and I guess my eyes reflect what I’m thinking, because the next thing I know he’s crumpled to the floor in a protective ball, hiding his tears and blood. I don’t walk away and ignore what happened. Neither do I yell. I’ve known for a long time that this Gryffindor’s life was less than happy, but having it shoved under my nose in this manner is rather frightening. I slide to the floor next to him and gently wrap my arms around him.

“That was the night I made him my bonds brother. I had to make sure that he knew he wasn’t alone. That he had friends who would stand by him and help him. I don’t think he ever had that even with Granger and Weasley. They fought too much and Weasel was too eager to turn his back with the slightest provocation. I modified the bond slightly though.” Draco grins slightly. “If he was hurting himself, then I would be able to feel it.” The grin fades. “I wish that I had thought to modify so that when he was in danger of being hurt by someone else I would know, but I never even considered… God, Sev, how could they do that to him?”

I sigh and look down at this boy who’s like my son. “From what I’ve gathered from Potter’s rather unfruitful sleep, they’ve never been especially kind. Muggles are odd creatures. They either want magic to solve everything, or they fear it.” Actually, Potter’s dreams are quite informative, as he begs for his relatives not to hurt him again. I’ve found out something that has happened regularly on his returns from school, and I’m sure this is something that no one else knows. The only problem is that not even I know how to approach him on this one.

“And despise all those who can cast it.” The thin voice from the doorway causes both me and Draco to jump as Potter slowly moves into the room. The smile he gives Draco isll all and slightly strained as he lowers himself onto touchouch opposite us.

Draco watches him warily but Harry’s eyes hold no anger. “It’s okay, Draco. I’m not even upset that you told. You did what you had to; I understand that.” The half smile he offers seems to ease Draco’s fears and he settles against me again.

“Potter, as much as I know you aren’t up to this, there are several things that we need to discuss.”

His eyes become shuttered instantly. “Ask what you will; I’ll answer what I can.”

Okay, start with last nights question before you forget. “Why did you have to make a flesh regrowing potion?”

Draco blinks and looks back and forth between us, so I explain about Potter’s knowledge of the red liquid I had used last night.

“Do you remember when you were teaching me Occlumency and you saw a great bull dog chasing me?” I nod. “That bulldog belongs to my Aunt Marge, and his name is Ripper. Every now and then she shows up, and she always brings that blasted dog with her. She was at Privet Drive when I got back from school. I was there maybe a week at the most when she let Ripper loose, and it was basically the same as before. He chased and I ran like Hell. He caught me this time, and ripped my arm up. That’s why I had to make the flesh regrowing potion.” The way he talks about it, so cold and dead of emotion makes me shiver. This isn’t the boy who lived. This boy is merely existing.