Dark Beginnings

5th October 1996

Dear Dr Litworth,

Please accept my apologies for disturbing you over the weekend, but I felt that I should contact you prior to your meeting with Harry on Monday.

Further to your initial session with Harry on Friday, some more information has been made available to me and I thought it only right to pass it on to you.

It would seem that Harry was made the subject of a process known as the Fusion and Coalition of Power. I have extensive literature on the topic, should you wish to do in-depth research, but essentially it means that Harry has received a portion of Lord Voldemort’s power – namely Dark Art abilities – with the intention of withdrawing them again, at a later date.

As things currently stand, Harry still has these abilities and we have no means of extracting them. You are, without doubt the expert in this field, but I believe that the Dark Arts are partially responsible for Harry’s altered personality. In addition, however, it has recently come to light that Harry was forced to murder someone whilst in Lord Voldemort’s custody. This too would undoubtedly have an impact on a young man’s view of the world around him.

Please also be aware that Harry has requested tuition in how to work with these Dark Arts. At first, I must confess, this notion simply appalled me. To teach someone so young how to manipulate the darkest magic, seemed the grossest negligence. However, as Harry himself has proven in an emergency, his Dark Art abilities leap to the fore without conscious thought on his behalf.

Therefore, I am reluctant to concede that tuition would help him in controlling these abilities. Professor Severus Snape has agreed to be Harry’s tutor.

I would welcome any thoughts or opinions that you may have on this subject.

In the meantime, I look forward to seeing you on Monday afternoon for Harry’s regular session.

With warm regards,

Prof. Albus Dumbledore.

*~*~*

The weekend, Harry thought as he lay in the bath, had gone past in a whirlwind of homework (he had so much to catch up on), time spent with Ron and Hermione, time spent ignoring Ron and Hermione while they smooched in corners, stealing precious minutes with Draco to smooch in corners themselves and the rest of the time pretending that Draco didn’t exist, as per Draco’s request.

This last really grated on Harry’s nerves. What did it matter to Draco if the Slytherins found out that they were…

He sighed. There still wasn’t a suitable word to describe what he and Draco were doing. Were they seeing each other? Was Draco his boyfriend now?

Anyway. What did it matter to Draco if the Slytherins found out that he and Harry were snogging whenever they found a suitable place or opportunity? The Slytherins already hated Draco as much as they hated Harry; Friday’s episode with the knife had borne testament to that fact.

But still, Draco had insisted and Harry hadn’t cared so long as he’d kept kissing him.

Now, though, lying here with bubbles up to his chin, he felt that it did matter. He didn’t want to ignore Draco and pretend that he was the loathsome Slytherin that he’d always been. Surely the Slytherins must have guessed that something funny was going on when Harry had saved the blond youth’s life?

The stolen kisses and hastily concealed touches were exciting, though, he thought with a smile. And tomorrow they had Potions; that would be fun.

Thinking that he would talk to Draco some more about all this secrecy, Harry got out of the bath and dried himself off before getting ready for bed.

*~*~*

As it turned out, the Potions lesson on Monday morning was anything but fun.

As they were now in their sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry and his friends had the chance to choose just those subjects, which would suit their chosen careers. And, as Harry was at least still toying with the idea of becoming an auror, he had had to take Potions.

Admittedly, it had been doubtful if he would achieve the required ‘Outstanding’ grade but either Dumbledore had pushed Snape or the Potions master himself had decided to award Harry the grade he needed. He didn’t, however, hold any disillusions that he could have gained his place in Advanced Potions on his own merit

With him in this lesson, were, amongst others, Hermione and Ron (Harry had a feeling that Ron had only taken it to be with Hermione as much as possible), Dean, Seamus, Parvati Patil, Draco, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. As they had ever since first year, the Slytherins occupied one side of the room and the Gryffindors the other. Harry sat beside Hermione with Ron on her other side.

Generally, the class went quite peacefully. After all, these students were here because they chose to be and they had (most of them) a more than adequate skill in Potions. Neville Longbottom, of course, hadn’t taken this class, though that didn’t prevent Snape from comparing people’s work with his pitiful attempts of the previous years. On the whole, these comments went over Harry’s head as he was more concerned with catching up on what he’d missed since the beginning of term and concentrating in general on getting the current potion just right.

This particular day, they were making a tricky potion to provide the user with dreamless, uninterrupted sleep. The Somnolence Potion was especially tricky as the heat had to be precisely right; the ingredients added neither too fast nor too slow and as for the ingredients themselves! The tiny Doxy eggs had to be no more than two days old, the lace wings to be exactly the same size and shape and the dragon fly legs to be chopped into just the right lengths.

Harry stirred his potion, counting as he stirred thirteen times clockwise and then seventeen times counter-clockwise. He was just counting ‘fourteen…fifteen… sixteen’ when he became aware of Snape standing behind him. The Potions master said nothing but his presence alone was enough to distract Harry. He faltered; had he stirred that sixteen or seventeen times?

“Once more,” Snape murmured very softly and Harry shivered, giving the potion one last stir and then reaching for the dragon fly legs. He dropped them in very carefully; they had to go in at the imaginary points of a clock and all of them had to be in before the potion finish swirling.

However, with Snape still looming over his left shoulder, Harry fumbled with the tiny pieces of insect leg and dropped two at the ‘nine o’ clock’ position. He sighed and dropped one at ‘ten’ and another at ‘eleven’ with nothing, of course, to place at ‘twelve’.

He stopped, standing still and waiting. Any minute, Snape would do something – make his potion vanish like he had last year, or tell him to stay behind and make another maybe? He didn’t have to wait long to find out which.

“Potter,” Snape purred, stepping around in front of him and speaking just loud enough for everyone to stop and look over, “do you know what you did wrong?”

Well of course he did! And just to prove a point, the dratted potion chose that second to turn, not clear, glassy blue, but a rather sickening purple.

“Well?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

Harry looked up at him with a sigh, aware of Draco’s eyes on him from the other side of the room.

“Yes, sir.” Harry replied promptly, meeting Snape’s gaze head on. They were, after all, nearly the same height now.

“And could you tell everyone what you did wrong, Potter? Just so they know not to do it themselves.” There was that hated smirk but there was also something else in Snape’s expression that Harry hadn’t noticed before. It was amusement. Was Snape amused at Harry? Or was he just enjoying the chance to berate him in public…again?

Harry sighed. “I accidentally dropped two pieces of dragon fly leg at the nine o’ clock position.” He shrugged and then matched Snape’s smirk perfectly.

At once, the Potion master’s expression when blank and he glared; not that Harry cared particularly. After all, what was a failed Potions lesson in the great scheme of things? When you considered what he’d seen and …done, this summer. Don’t think that! He silently shouted at himself.

“Potter, you are, without doubt, the one to whom I will be awarding The Neville Award for outstanding stupidity.”

Beside him, Harry heard Hermione bite back a gasp of outrage but he couldn’t manage to hold onto his own response. His lips twitched and then he laughed. Loud, impulsive and contagious, to judge by the fact that the Slytherins too were laughing.

“Potter,” Snape said, his voice devoid of humour, “what are you laughing at?”

“Th-the Neville Award!” Harry cried, still laughing. He felt something chill in the atmosphere around him but was giggling too hard to pay it any heed. Only when Snape stalked away with a dark glare, did Harry manage to calm down a bit.

“Harry,” Hermione scolded immediately, “it’s not funny!”

“Oh, come on, Hermione!” Harry protested, fighting another snigger, “I’m not offended. Snape’s been taking the piss out of me since I was eleven but that’s the first time he’s ever made me laugh.”

However, he then became aware that none of his fellow Gryffindors were even smiling. They all looked quietly incensed and indignant, though Harry couldn’t fathom why they should care so much when he himself thought it was hilarious.

“Harry, it’s not fair of Professor Snape to keep on having a go at Neville.” Hermione growled, glaring at the back of Snape’s head as he peered into Draco’s potion.

Harry frowned and then suddenly caught on. “So, you’re angry because Snape’s still taking the piss out of Neville?” he raised his eyebrows. “Well, I still think it’s funny.” And he grinned at her, aware that the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes but unable to help himself.

Inside, deep inside, Harry was a little put out that his so called friends hadn’t been angry on his behalf. All right, so he’d thought it funny but they – they’d only been upset for Neville and the prat wasn’t even here!

“Harry,” Ron said then, his tone quiet, “come on. Snape’s always’ having a go at Neville.”

“Coz he’s stupid.” Harry shrugged and then looked round at where Dean and Seamus were staring at him with mouths agape. “What? It’s true. Neville, himself, would admit it!”

“Harry, that’s not the point, mate.” Ron shook his head, “Hermione’s right, Snape shouldn’t still be taking the piss out of him.”

Suddenly all humour had gone from Harry’s face. He didn’t find this remotely funny now – well, maybe when he recalled the Neville Award bit. A bit of a stupid grin tugged at his mouth at the memory but then he saw Ron glance swiftly at Hermione.

“Oh my god,” he said, a little loudly, “Ron, you’re finally growing a backbone! Bloody hell, after all these years, are you finally going to stand up for yourself? Or are you just defending Hermione? Or Neville, who isn’t even here to appreciate it?”

“Potter,” Snape turned then, frowning, “what are you shouting about?”

“Nothing.” Harry growled, still staring hard at Ron and Hermione. He pointed his wand at the useless potion and muttered, “Evanesco!”. Then, looking up at his Potions master, he said with a slightly raised eyebrow, “Sir, it seems that it’s a bit crowded over here. Could I move, do you think?”

For a second, Snape looked from Harry to Ron and Hermione who were looking angry and upset. Then, looking at the cold, hardness in Harry’s eyes, he nodded once curtly. “Don’t make a big song and dance about it, though, Potter.”

“Sir.” Harry inclined his head politely and then gathered up all his bits and pieces and levitated them before heading across the room to sit beside Draco.

As he then began arranging all his equipment once more, Draco tapped once at his ever-present pad. ‘What are you doing?’

“Moving.” Harry muttered in an undertone, carefully weighing out his ingredients once again.

‘Moving houses or just tables?’ Draco wrote but Harry didn’t reply.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, the class filed out and headed to the Great Hall for lunch. Still working on his second batch of potion, however, Harry sat where he was and pointedly ignored Ron and Hermione as they walked out with fleeting backward glances.

“Go on, Draco.” Snape said when there was only the three of them left. He paused then and added, “Help yourself to a ham sandwich if you don’t want to eat with the others. There’s a fresh pack of ham in my fridge and there are tomatoes in the salad tray.”

Draco hesitated, looking once at Harry and then nodded and left, exiting through the door behind Snape’s desk. Harry continued working and concentrating only on the potion before him. At length, he became aware of the Potions master leaning against his broad desk and watching him.

“’Seven Doxy eggs, crushed with salt’” Harry read aloud, his voice a soft whisper. He added the ingredients and checked the intensity of the flames beneath the cauldron. “’Simmer for five minutes exactly.’” He took out his wand and tapped it five times with a muttered, “Chronos.” Then, placing the wand in his pocket again, he looked up at Snape. “What?” he asked bluntly.

“Mind your attitude.” Snape ordered automatically, his voice lacking its usual sharpness. He sighed then and tilted his head, a wing of black hair falling against the corner of his jaw. “Potter, what are you doing?”

Harry gazed back and then frowned, looking perplexed, “I’m making my potion again, sir.”

“Without being told?” Snape raised his eyebrows disbelievingly, “And what’s with calling me ‘sir’? You’ve never spoken to me with anything resembling respect in your life, Potter.”

“Well, Draco calls you sir.” Harry shrugged, “Although sometimes he refers to you as Severus but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.” Something in Snape’s intensely black stare gave Harry pause for a second and then he grinned, “Loved the comment about the Neville Award, by the way.”

The Potions master shook his head very slightly and then sighed, closing his eyes with a barely audible groan. “Potter, you weren’t supposed to find it funny.” He complained, “I wasn’t trying to make you laugh.”

“No,” Harry agreed with him, “you were trying to bring me down in front of the class. I get that. But you were still funny.” He shrugged.

With no answer to that, Snape turned and sorted some items on his desk while Harry went back to finishing his potion. After successfully adding the dragon fly legs, the potion happily turned clear, glassy blue and Harry decanted a little of it into three phials. He looked up then and found Snape watching him silently.

The Potions master looked meaningfully at the second and third phials and Harry shrugged, “I thought I’d give it a try,” he said, bringing the other phial up and leaving it with the others on Snape’s desk. “And Draco needs sleep too.”

He emptied his cauldron, packed away all his equipment and then looked back to see the man still watching him with that same unreadable expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry began and, at a very slight nod from Snape, went on, “What would Dumbledore say if I asked not to see this Magical Psychologist?”

“It’s Professor Dumbledore, and I doubt if he would let you have your way.” Snape replied honestly and then frowned a little, “Why? Don’t you want to talk with her?”

Harry shook his head, “She wants to know about my little stay with Voldemort.”

“As do most everybody.” Snape replied, “And surely even you must see that you’ve changed since last term?”

Harry scowled, “Yeah, well, it’d be hard not to change when you consider that I caused my godfather’s death; that without me, my aunt, uncle and cousin would still be alive, and I was forced to murder yet more people at the request of Lord Barking-Mad Voldemort!”

The dungeon rang with his sharp tones and he stood in sullen silence for a moment, staring at his scuffed shoes. He heard Snape’s footsteps as the man came around his desk and move to stand before him.

“People?” Snape murmured softly, his voice raising the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck. “I thought you said you only killed one – Avery.”

Realising his mistake, Harry snarled at himself and looked up. The Potions master was regarding him with something akin to mild alarm in his coal-black eyes.

“I’d better get to lunch,” Harry muttered then, breaking eye contact and reaching for his bag. Snape, however, wasn’t going to let him go so easily.

“Never mind about lunch,” he shook his head. “You can eat with Draco and myself. The wretched boy’s probably made enough sandwiches to feed an army anyway. No, I want you to tell me who else you murdered.”

Harry winced and averted his eyes, whispering, “Forced to murder! I wouldn’t ever do – do that by choice.”

“My apologies,” Snape murmured sincerely. If Harry hadn’t been so caught up in his torturous past, he would have been astonished to hear the man apologise for anything, let alone for upsetting Harry.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, trembling a little at the sudden influx of hideous memories.

At length, he swallowed and, still with his eyes shut, began. “Avery was the first. Draco knows about it because he was there with his father and was witness to his father catching me and dragging me back to Voldemort. I…I was just told to kill Avery – I didn’t have any further instructions; Voldemort knew that the necessary information was all in my head. So I…I…um…I invoked the Soto Mordis.”

Harry licked his lips, still with his eyes firmly shut. Somehow it was easier to talk like this, as if there was no one there with him. Snape said absolutely nothing and so Harry had no inkling as to how he was reacting.

“The…er…the next was…” Harry winced and when he spoke again, there was a definite tremor to his voice. “…a woman…I don’t know who. She was some sort of informer, I think. Voldemort called her a defector, a traitor – he said that her information of late was inaccurate to the point of making it dangerous for the Death Eaters to act on it. He said…oh god…” Harry whimpered and then swallowed, “…he said that if he’d followed her advice, he would never have managed to abduct me.”

Harry opened his eyes for a moment then but stared hard at the floor. “She was trying to keep me safe, wasn’t she?” he asked, finally looking up at Snape.

The man swallowed, looking even paler than usual. “Her name was Amelia Eskin and she was a spy like me.” He said very quietly. “We knew that Voldemort was onto us but where the Order was able to locate and warn me and the others, we couldn’t reach Amelia in time.” He sighed wearily, “Did you use Soto Mordis on her too?”

Harry nodded, feeling sick and ashamed. At sixteen, he was monumentally appalled to feel tears prickling his eyes and ducked his head, closing them against the emotion.

“Were there others?” Snape asked, his voice so soft that only someone standing as close as Harry would have heard him.

Harry nodded but gave no further information. He swayed suddenly and would have fallen if a pair of large, strong hands hadn’t urged him down onto his chair. He groaned, wondering if he was going to be sick. He couldn’t stop shaking; couldn’t stop thinking about the people that had been hauled before him and Voldemort’s high, condemning voice, announcing their so-called crimes and then explaining how they were to die. And every one of them had died, knowing that the famous Harry Potter was responsible.

“Here,” Snape murmured and Harry opened his eyes to see a pristine, white, folded handkerchief being offered to him. Only then did he realise that there were tears pouring down his face and dripping onto his folded hands.

“I’m sorry.” He said, aware of how ridiculously inadequate that statement was. With another angry snarl at himself and his own weakness, Harry then pushed himself back onto his feet. “I have to go…” he muttered and tried to push past the Potions master.

Snape, however, held him in place with one hand on Harry’s shoulder. He sighed then and turned his head to look at Harry’s profile as the youth stared intently into the middle distance.

“You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing.” He said and then, apparently reaching a decision, he pulled Harry around and guided him through the same door through which Draco had left earlier.

Half a dozen paces and then they were in front of another door. Snape’s door, Harry realised, looking up. Snape then urged him through and they found Draco, who was indeed making enough sandwiches to feed a hungry horde.

Taking one look at Harry and Snape, however, Draco abandoned his task and hurried forward, his eyes dark with alarm.

“Take care of him for me, Draco.” Snape requested, then said to Harry, “Potter, wait here. I’m going to see Dumbledore and then I’ll be back.”

Draco nodded and Harry responded with a murmured ‘thank you’. As the door clicked shut behind Snape, Draco brought his wand hand up and cupped the back of Harry’s head.

‘What happened? No, you don’t have to tell me.’ He shook his head, staring deep into Harry’s eyes. ‘Come with me; let’s get you cleaned up.’

And taking Harry’s hand, he led him through Snape’s sitting room, through another door that clearly led to his bedroom and then on to the little en-suite bathroom. Once there, Draco sat Harry on the edge of the bath and rinsed the white handkerchief under the tap, wiping at his tear-streaked face.

Responding to the kindness, Harry then reached out and Draco allowed himself to be pulled close.

‘Snape knows. About the people I killed.’ Harry thought to him as he shivered in Draco’s arms. ‘I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t going to. But sometimes I’m just so stupid and I let it slip and…’

‘You are not stupid.’ Draco replied, taking one of Snape’s towels and drying Harry’s face with absolute tenderness. ‘And there’s no shame in what you did – not the killing and not…and nothing else.’

Harry drew a shuddering sigh and leaned his head forward on Draco’s chest. Earlier, after having a go at Ron and then moving desks, Harry had half-expected Draco to be angry with him. But in light of all this, this morning’s row in Potions seemed trivial and inconsequential and he was comforted by the fact that Draco cared enough to want to soothe and console him. Evidently, it wasn’t just physical attraction between them then, he thought and this stirred a little warm current through his body.

“How did you know where Snape’s bathroom was?” Harry asked indistinctly, several minutes later.

‘I quite often sleep on his sitting room floor.’ Draco responded. ‘The Slytherin common room and dormitory aren’t very welcoming places any more. But Severus brought me here to patch me up when Moody-Who-Wasn’t turned me into a ferret.’

Harry thought silently about this. He remembered how he and Ron and Hermione had thought it so funny. But that was when Ron and Hermione were his friends and Draco was his enemy. Now Ron and Hermione weren’t speaking to him and Draco was his –

What? What was Draco? His boyfriend? That sounded vaguely poofy to Harry, but as they’d done no more than kiss, he could hardly refer to him as his lover, could he?

‘Personally,’ Draco interrupted and Harry realised that he’d been able to read all his thoughts, ‘I just like the idea of being Yours.’

Harry smiled and kissed him. “Yes, but I can hardly introduce you to people as ‘This is Draco Malfoy and he’s Mine’!”

‘Don’t see why not!’ Draco grinned and kissed him again before pulling him close for a cuddle.

After a while, Draco drew him out into the sitting room once more and urged him to sit down on the hearth rug. There, he continued to hold him and it occurred to Harry that Draco hardly ever sat in the chairs.

The door to Snape’s office opened and closed then and they looked up as the Potions master came through into his sitting room. He paused, looking over at where Draco had his arms wrapped protectively around Harry’s body, although he made no comment.

With a sigh, he fetched a fresh cafetiere of coffee and sat down in the nearest armchair.

“I’ve just spoken with the Headmaster,” he said, setting the cafetiere down and looking at Harry. “You’re excused your session with Dr Litworth, this afternoon. I think you’ve been through enough for one day.”

“Did you tell Dumbledore what I’d said?” Harry asked with a little frown.

Snape shook his head, “I just told him that you’d revealed certain aspects of your experiences and wouldn’t be up to any further interrogation.”

Draco chuckled silently, his chest moving against Harry’s side. ‘Bet Dumbledore just loved that!’ He wrote on his pad with his wand.

“He was, shall we say, curious.” Snape responded, “But we can avoid telling him anything for a while, I think.”

Harry nodded and then gently disentangled himself from Draco, looking up at his Potions master. “Thank you.” He said sincerely, trying to convey his gratitude for his intervention with the headmaster, his sensitivity concerning Harry’s revelation and his general attitude. It shocked something in Harry to realise that the hated, greasy Potions master of the past five years, was finally showing an alternative side to his nature.

This, surely, was the man that Draco had known from early childhood; the man who gave him a set of books and a massive owl on his eleventh birthday, just prior to starting Hogwarts. He supposed Draco must have been as nervous of starting as Harry had been (that would, he supposed, explain the exaggerated arrogance in Madam Malkins) but Harry was pleased that Draco had had at least one friendly face awaiting his arrival here.

His drifting thoughts then turned to Crabbe and Goyle and how they had seemed to be Draco’s friends, right from the start. Friends, however, didn’t allow you to be almost killed.

“I don’t know, Draco.” Snape’s voice intruded on Harry’s abstracted thoughts, “But you have Advanced Transfiguration so, no, you can’t stay down here with Potter.”

Glancing at Draco’s pad before he wiped it clean and wrote a protest, Harry read that he had asked what Harry would be doing instead of his session with the Psychologist and couldn’t he, Draco, stay with him.

‘Half of Transfiguration requires actual speaking,’ Draco wrote now, looking incensed, ‘I won’t be missing much. Please, Severus?’

Snape sighed, “Draco, no. I cannot allow you to miss classes just so that you can hide away with your boyfriend.” Harry blushed slightly and averted his eyes. “And don’t call me Severus.” He added as an afterthought.

Draco made a face and Harry fought to hold back a snigger. The blond young man grinned at him and reached for the cafetiere as Snape summoned the plate of sandwiches.

They sat and ate lunch in companionable silence and with a full stomach, Harry started to feel better. Having told someone – even just one person – he felt as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. However, he had no intention of sharing this information with anyone else. Sharing didn’t make his acts any less heinous and the fewer people who knew, the better in his opinion.

Interrupting his thoughts and Snape and Draco’s rather one-sided argument (which had now progressed on to the usefulness of any of his lessons, now that Draco had no voice), someone knocked on Snape’s outer office door.

Snape got up immediately and closed the inner door to prevent anyone from seeing Harry and Draco.

While he was gone, Harry turned to Draco and whispered, “Are we not supposed to be in here?”

Draco lifted his wand hand and lightly touched Harry’s head, taking the opportunity to lean in for a kiss as he replied: ‘I could possibly be excused but there would be questions asked if they found you here. Of course, it does help that we’re only in Severus’ sitting room and not his bedroom. And that we’re all dressed.’ He smirked outrageously as Harry blushed.

From the sound of the voices in Snape’s office, however, it sounded as if Snape was having trouble getting rid of his visitor. And then the inner door opened and Dumbledore stepped through, accompanied by Dr Litworth and Snape, who looked deeply incensed.

*~*~*

Jenna had arrived at Hogwarts, feeling somewhat wary following her session with Harry on Friday and Dumbledore’s letter, which had arrived on Saturday evening.

Harry had proved already that he was quick and intelligent and Dumbledore’s description of the young man’s experiences during his abduction further reinforced her assessment that he needed very careful handling. The fact that her patient was capable of Dark Arts (not to mention that he was powerful and yet to learn control) led Jenna to wondering if she had perhaps taken on too much.

When she’d arrived at Dumbledore’s office, however, she had been shocked to find herself disappointed by the cancellation.

“Professor Dumbledore, whatever the reason, I’m sure I can work around it,” she had pressed. “If I could just talk with Harry – with no in-depth probing or treatment as such – I’m sure that it would be beneficial to him. But to cancel the meeting so early on, would be letting him down. After such a trauma, Harry needs continuity of care. He needs to know that our meetings are rigid and not subject to cancellation on a whim.”

“Dr Litworth,”

“Jenna.” She corrected him with a tiny smile.

“Jenna, Professor Snape was quite emphatic. I don’t know the whole story but he said that Harry had revealed certain aspects of his experiences. Further to that, he said that Harry wouldn’t be up to any further…er…questions.” The Headmaster explained, carefully avoiding the Potions master’s own choice of words.

Jenna sighed and shifted slightly in her seat. “I understand, Professor. But surely you must see what I’m saying?” And since when was Severus Snape counselling Harry Potter, she wanted to know, but tactfully avoided asking.

Dumbledore, however, spread his hands, “Jenna, my first concern is Harry’s well-being. His is a troubled soul and I’m extremely reluctant to do anything that might make him feel pressured or threatened.”

“Yes!” Jenna nodded, “I can see that and that’s a good attitude but…” she sighed then, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be pushy; I just wanted to get started with helping Harry. If I can’t see him, though, perhaps you’d let me see Draco Malfoy. Could you tell me a little more about him? And, perhaps, if you would be agreeable, I could see Draco.”

Dumbledore frowned a little and leaned back in his chair. “There isn’t really much more to say about Draco, that I haven’t told you already.” He said slowly.

“You said in one of your letters, that Draco had been ‘punished’ for his betrayal,” Jenna prompted.

“Yes.” Dumbledore looked terribly sad for a moment, “Following the rescue, our attention, unfortunately was focused entirely on Harry. Professor Snape portkeyed with him, straight into his rooms – although I doubt if Harry recalls much about that. He was in a very serious condition: battered, bruised, in shock. We had absolutely no idea what he’d gone through – what Voldemort had done to him…

“Anyway, Severus revived Harry as best he could before carrying him to the hospital wing -”

“He carried him?” Jenna interrupted incredulously. It seemed bizarre to her that Snape could do anything as basically gentle as carry another human being. “In his arms?”

Dumbledore nodded, “Poppy Pomfrey set to work immediately and we were all quite caught up with making sure Harry survived his first night back. Unfortunately, we were all too caught up in that and it was almost too late when Severus went to the Slytherin dungeons to check on Draco.”

“He found him gone,” Jenna surmised quietly. “What happened?”

“Draco was attacked in school – we haven’t been able to establish the culprits – and was dragged out of the school grounds…no doubt, by some few of his fellow Slytherins. They don’t take kindly to traitors.”

Jenna nodded, thinking of the general psyche that made up a good Slytherin; undying loyalty to one’s own was a primary factor.

“When Severus found Draco missing, he executed a Hunter spell -”

“Blood magic?” Jenna started, her eyes widening.

“- and found Draco in the lane between here and Hogsmeade.” Dumbledore went on as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Death Eaters, led by Lucius Malfoy himself, had ripped the young man’s throat open with the use of a particularly vicious potion. Whether it was their intent to kill him or to render him incapable of speech, I don’t know and I wouldn’t like to hazard a guess. I do know that, if Severus hadn’t arrived when he did, Draco would certainly have died from his injuries.

“As it was,” he added with a sigh, “it took Severus thirty-seven hours to create a potion to stop the bleeding and close the wound. Nothing, unfortunately, could be done to save Draco’s vocal chords.”

“So he can’t speak at all?” Jenna unconsciously placed her hand to her own throat.

Dumbledore shook his head, “Nothing. He communicates instead with the use of a pad of paper and his wand. Our wands, as you know, work to conduct our magical ability; Draco’s works in the same way but to conduct his words onto paper.”

Jenna nodded, looking pensive. “But there are limitations to that, aren’t there?” she looked at the Headmaster, “Some spells rely entirely on cadence and intonation, not just intent.”

“Hmm.” Dumbledore responded, staring at his desk.

“If Professor Snape is teaching Harry the finer points of Dark Arts,” Jenna began, managing to hide her own doubts behind that decision, “then he could teach Draco too.”

At length, Dumbledore lifted his head and regarded Jenna with a steady blue-eyed gaze.

“Oh.” Jenna nodded once, “You’ve already decided that.” She studied the Headmaster for a second, “And you’re not happy with the decision, are you?”

Dumbledore sighed, “Jenna, there are many things that I’m not happy with. I’m not happy that Harry was abducted in the first place, I’m not happy that Lord Voldemort chose to give him abilities with Dark Arts. I’m also not happy that an intelligent young man like Draco Malfoy was rewarded for doing the right thing by having his throat torn open. Now, two wrongs don’t make a right – I’m aware of that. But it seems that giving these young men the necessary tuition – in one case to teach Harry control and in the other to give Draco back his full potential – such a thing can only be good, can’t it?”

Jenna took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. The Headmaster was clearly unhappy with the choices he had – she’d been right in her assessment of him. And now he was desperately searching for justification.

With a shake of her head, she promptly dropped that line of thought and leaned forward again. “Do you know where Draco might be?” she asked, “I think I’d like to talk with him, if that’s okay?”

*~*~*

“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling once again as the Potions master opened his office door. “This is Dr Litworth. She’s the Magical Psychologist that I mentioned before.”

Snape shifted his eyes from the Headmaster to the woman standing just behind him. After just a couple of seconds, he remembered her; recognising the light blonde hair and dark brown eyes that appraised him warily, even as the generous mouth moved into a smile. The smile, however, was very slightly forced and Snape was under no illusions why that should be.

They knew each other of old, of course; although she’d been Jenna Adams then. A mousy little Gryffindor, two years younger and, therefore, fair game to Severus and his fellow Slytherins.

“Professor Snape,” Jenna tilted her head and her smile hardened fractionally.

“Doctor,” Snape inclined his head and then looked at Dumbledore with polite curiosity.

“Severus, I’m looking for Draco. He isn’t in the Great Hall with the other students and I thought I’d try here as I know he sometimes prefers to avoid his housemates.” Dumbledore smiled encouragingly.

“He’s here, Headmaster, but now really isn’t a good time to bother him.” Snape replied, his eyes flickering once again back to Jenna as he wondered why Dumbledore had brought her with him.

“You allow him to visit you in your personal quarters?” Jenna raised her eyebrows, “Is that wise? I mean, you should consider your own professional integrity, professor; it wouldn’t do for someone to get the wrong idea, would it?”

Snape considered ignoring her or perhaps hexing her on the spot for even suggesting something so base as the idea that he might dally with one of his students. Albus, however, would probably get very upset and so he had to be contented with drawing himself up to his full height and glowering at the stupid woman.

“Well,” he sneered, “as I am Draco’s legal guardian, now that his parents have disowned and disinherited him, I see little harm in allowing him to spend his lunchtimes with me.”

Jenna stiffened, clearly caught by surprise. She was, Snape observed, quite wrong-footed by being confronted by one of her old school bullies. The idea both pleased and unnerved him, leaving him quite unprepared for Dumbledore saying,

“Severus, Dr Litworth would like to talk with Draco for a while. After the trauma of the attack and subsequently losing the ability to speak, I believe that he might find it beneficial to receive counselling.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Jenna interjected with, “If, as his legal guardian, you don’t have any objections, that is?”

“Oh, I’m sure Severus will agree that Draco can only gain from talking with you, Jenna.” Dumbledore smiled serenely, giving Snape no choice but to allow them access.

The Potions master clearly wasn’t happy with being overridden, however, and the Headmaster probably knew full well that the man would be stomping back and forth across his office carpet before the day was out.

“Well, I suppose when you put it like that,” he muttered and opened the door to his sitting room. “Best of luck, Dr Litworth.”

*~*~*

To the casual observer, Harry’s immediate response to the unexpected visitors was a bare flicker of his eyelashes. Draco, however, saw that he went suddenly very still and his entire demeanour was instantly cautious, as if he was afraid of letting something slip.

Thankfully, Draco thought, there was no sign at all of the tears that Harry had shed earlier. He was sure that the lady doctor would have wanted to know the cause of his distress and was glad when Harry straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, looking every bit as confident and self-assured as someone who wasn’t quaking inside.

“Hello, Harry.” Dr Litworth smiled in surprise, “I didn’t know you’d be visiting Professor Snape too.”

“These are exceptional circumstances.” Snape growled, glaring at Dumbledore.

“I understand you’d rather not talk with me today,” Dr Litworth went on, still talking to Harry.

“Yes,” he replied with an air of careful calm, “I’m sorry you had a wasted journey, Jenna.”

“No matter.” Jenna shook her head, “I’ll see you on Wednesday, though, as planned; yes?” She looked then at Draco, “Actually, it was you I was coming to see.” She smiled.

Draco glanced warily from the doctor to Snape and then back again.

‘Me?’ Draco wrote on his pad, ‘Why would I need a shrink?’

“Draco,” Snape warned him, “mind your manners.” But there was the tiniest hint of a smirk to the Potions master’s mouth.

‘Forgive me.’ Draco sent her the full, devastating effect of his smile, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. I simply meant, why would you wish to speak with me? Apart from the fact that I can’t speak, I’m fine.’

“Well, you certainly seem to be managing with written communication.” Jenna smiled warmly, “But it’s too nice a day to be shut up indoors. Why don’t we go for a walk?”

No doubt remembering the walk around the lake, Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and the blond youth had to suppress a grin.

‘Just a walk?’ He wrote with a tilt of his head, ‘No couch? No in-depth psychological review? You don’t want to ask me about my mother? Or my father?’

“Draco,” Dumbledore warned sternly, even as Snape turned away to hide his smile.

Jenna, however, didn’t seem the least bit phased. “No couch.” She shook her head with a smile, “Unless you want one. And we’ll only talk about the subjects that you want to talk about.”

‘Great. What do you know about Quidditch?’ Draco stood up. He took two steps towards the door and then turned to offer Harry a reassuring grin before meeting his Housemaster’s eyes.

As the door closed behind them, Harry was startled to see a truly wicked smirk on Snape’s mouth.