Dearest Harry - Eileen's Story

Severus was astonished. It could not believe that the boy had just done his bidding with no arguments or anger. He smirked a bit at Draco’s and the Muggle’s reactions too. The Muggle had surely never seen anything like Potter’s Patronus, and Draco had never seen such a powerful one. Severus hadn’t seen this particular Patronus either; it stood to reason that it would resemble the brat’s father’s animagus form.

And it was beautiful. It was one of the most striking Patroni that Severus had ever seen, that shining silver stag; tall, graceful, elegant. It bowed once to the one that had cast it and then hurried away. Potter sagged.

Then Severus had a startling flash of insight: Potter would never have known his father’s animagus form. He never really knew his father either, did he, come to that? He really and truly was not the favoured child that Severus had always thought him to be. And right at this moment, Severus realised how much the boy was struggling. That wall was literally holding him up; he neither looked for nor expected help from anyone. Maybe that was because he was not exactly used to receiving it.

Snape knew all about troubled children, he had been one himself. The boy was not arrogant at all, was he? He was just not used to having anyone to turn to, not with this family as his nearest and dearest. Maybe some at least of Potter’s unfortunate escapades in the past were due to the fact that it had never occurred to him that he could turn to adults, and that an adult would try to help him. From the evidence of Snape’s own eyes it was obvious that nobody in this house had ever gone out of their way to help him with anything.

Petunia Dursley came in right then. “I have the sheets,” she said timorously.

Harry looked at her with a shocked expression as she said, “I’ll just put them on the bed then, shall I?”

The boy seemed to Severus to collapse in upon himself. “S’okay Aunt Petunia,” he said oh so quietly, “I think we’ll be leaving very soon anyway. No need to waste good sheets.”

The boy had been unconscious earlier, he would not have been able to hear what his uncle had said, but maybe those words would have been no surprise to him. Good sheets, according to the family Dursley, were wasted on Harry Potter and he seemed to just accept that as the way of things in this household.

“I asked the order to get here as soon as they could, Professor,” Potter said, slumping just a little bit further down the wall as he spoke. “Perhaps we should all be downstairs because it’ll be easier to get us out from down there, we’ll be easy to find and that will save time.”

Severus nodded. The boy was probably right. But he did not think that there was any way that Potter was going to make it downstairs unaided.

“But what will we do when the Order get here, Professor?” Malfoy asked, with a tinge of panic in his voice.

“It’s okay,” Potter ground out, he was obviously in a lot of pain, and was breathing heavily. Severus suspected that some of his ribs were broken. “They won’t hurt you, either of you. I won’t let them.”

Severus was completely astonished. The boy was defending them? Him and Malfoy? From the moment he had seen the Death Eaters gathered outside, Severus had just about given up on getting out of this particular situation intact. But Potter was offering to help them? Would wonders never cease?

He crossed the room in just two strides; it really was pitifully small, and grabbed Potter just as he was about to slump even further. The boy turned his wide green eyes on him in frank astonishment.

“There is no way you will make it downstairs without help, is there, Potter?” Severus sneered, “And it wouldn’t do to lose you right now, would it? If you are to be of any use to me with the order, then I would rather you were conscious.”

Potter said nothing to this, not one word, but he did lean into Severus who had swept him up into his arms. Severus felt that holding the, albeit barely conscious, boy seemed very different from holding someone who was sleeping and unreactive.

The boy wrapped his uninjured arm around his Professor’s neck, but awkwardly, as if he really didn’t know what to do with his hands, and maybe Severus thought, he truly didn’t. The boy’s hair was soft against his neck, and once or twice he hitched his breath with what must have been pain as Severus moved out of the room and onto the landing. And Severus felt very strange. Peculiar feelings were stirring in him, feelings of pity, of protectiveness.

He had always hated this boy with a fierce passion, but, it was almost as if Severus had realised for the first time, he was Lily’s child, her son as much as James’. The child in his arms was blood of Severus’ blood. This boy was his nephew and finally Severus had actually realised that to be truth. Holding him like this, being trusted by a child whom he believed returned his hatred with interest, was something that he could not explain or understand but it touched him. He knew that if they got out of this alive his feelings would have changed irrevocably but he didn’t know how or what that change would mean and with half of Voldemort’s Death Eaters currently camped on the front lawn, he really didn’t have time to examine these strange new feelings right now.

He was followed downstairs by a small procession; Draco, and Petunia and Vernon Dursley. The cousin, David? Dermot? was sitting at the kitchen table spooning ice cream straight from the container into a gaping, needy maw. Petunia pushed passed him causing Potter to hiss with pain.

“Oh Dudders, darling. You must be so anxious my lamb. Poor lamb. What has this dreadful boy brought upon us all?” She started to wail, “Oh God, from the first moment he crossed our threshold he was nothing but trouble. Lazy, stupid, clingy. What did we do to deserve such freakishness thrust upon us?” She had clutched ‘Dudders’ head to her rather scrawny bosom and was stroking his hair as if he were a baby.

“It’s all your fault, you useless little worm!” she screeched, turning on Potter, bellowing at him, face red, spitting her words viciously. Severus flinched, so nasty was this diatribe. But Potter seemed completely unperturbed, he just murmured, “I know, I’m sorry,” and Severus did not like that at all. He did not like the sound of defeat that seemed evident in the boy. But perhaps it was not defeat, perhaps it was resignation? Whatever it was, he needed the boy to be strong right now, so he turned to the screeching harpy who had started to list Potter’s supposed faults and failures and said, “That will do! Sit down and shut up or I will silence you.”

“S’alright, Professor,” Potter muttered, “She’s upset, and it isn’t as if I haven’t heard it all before.” Malfoy let out a strangled gasp at that statement and Severus could guess his thoughts. To hear this dreadful woman address The Saviour of The Wizarding World in this way was astonishing, especially as both he and Draco had previously been convinced that the boy was worshiped wherever he went. He gently lowered Potter on to the sofa, only to be astonished once again when Petunia started shouting about how Potter was not allowed to sit on the furniture. And he was truly lost for words when the boy quietly, and without any fuss, just slipped to the floor.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose outside. There was shouting and explosions and flashes of light from all the spells that were being fired. The Order had arrived.

Potter was struggling to his feet. “Do you think they need our help, Professor?” he asked. His voice was strained, he was obviously in a great deal of pain now. The pills that Severus had given him would have barely taken the edge off whatever he was feeling.

“No, I do not.” Severus replied, “All of the order members are good dualists and you would only get in the way right now. Your job, Mr Potter, is to stay safe in here.”

The door burst open just then and Arthur Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin fell through. The Dursleys all leapt back in fright, but Potter, who had somehow managed to scramble to his feet unaided just smiled. “Hi,” he said, “Thanks for coming to the rescue.” But the order members weren’t smiling. They all had their wands out and were pointing them at Snape and Malfoy.

“S’okay, Professor Lupin, Mr Weasley, Tonks. Professor Snape and Malfoy are on our side.” Potter had his wand out too. He had moved, rather stiffly from his position by the sofa, to act as a sort of shield for Severus and Malfoy. He had his wand hand extended and his other arm wrapped protectively around his obviously tender ribs.

“Harry,” Weasley spat, “The man is a Death Eater. He killed Albus.”

Severus was surprised to feel hurt at Arthur’s attitude. Of course he knew what they all thought of him, but he and Weasley had always got on fairly well. There had been a sort of comradeship between them. There had also been mutual respect and it saddened him to think that that no longer existed because of the awful deed that he had been bound to carry out. He truly did not care what the werewolf or his somewhat scruffy girlfriend thought, but Weasley, Arthur, had almost been a friend.

“I know what happened, Mr Weasley,” Potter ground out, “I was there, remember? I saw everything.”

Severus was shocked and Malfoy, who was cowering behind him, gave an audible gasp. He had known that Potter had caught up with them quite quickly that night, but to think that he had witnessed everything, been present for Albus’ death. That thought made Severus feel cold to the very depths of himself. Potter knew everything. He had seen Albus’ death, Snape’s own anger, Malfoy’s near surrender.

“I think that Professor Dumbledore asked him to do it, but. I need to….”

Potter didn’t finish, he started to pant, his knees were giving out on him and he began to collapse.

Severus and Weasley both moved forwards together, but Severus got there first.

Potter sort of slumped against him, breathing really hard, obviously trying to ride out the pain. The boy also radiated heat. It was pouring off him and Severus thought that if he didn’t get a potion inside him pretty soon, they were going to lose him.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Tonks shouted.

“He has magic fever and a number of injuries that need to be looked at.” Severus replied.

“Magic fever?” Weasley asked, just as Lupin said, “Injuries, what injuries? Has he been in a battle with the Death Eaters?”

“Oh no,” Severus drawled, “He got these particular bruises much closer to home.”

The newcomers just stared at him, confused. Until Weasley turned to Vernon Dursley and said, “Did you hurt him? Did you hurt Harry?” His voice held quiet fury, it trembled with anger.

Tonk’s eyes widened, “Wha...” she began, but Severus cut her off. “There will be time for this later, right now we have to get him out of here. He is….not well.”

“Please, Mr Weasley,” Potter muttered, “We do need to get everyone out, the wards will fall soon, and then they’ll all be in here and we lose, please sir. Just trust me.”

Weasley exchanged glances with Lupin and then nodded tightly.

“We trust you, Harry,” he said, “We’ll take Snape and Malfoy with us. We have a portkey that Minerva created. But to get us out whilst the wards are still up, we need to add blood to it. Your blood, and the blood of your Aunt.”

Petunia Dursley started at this, “You are not having my blood!” she shouted, “for your wicked Voodoo magic.”

“Oh yes we are,” Severus drawled, “Either you give some willingly or I would be quite happy to take some by force.” She gave an undignified squeak at this and Weasley looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Get on with it then.” Severus said.

Tonks produced an empty muggle drinks bottle from a capacious pocket and held it out as Lupin came forward with a needle. He gently took Potter’s hand in his own and pricked the boy’s finger and then just as gently laid it against the bottle so that a few drops fell on the glass. There was a sizzling noise and the blood was absorbed in an instant. He then repeated the procedure with Petunia Dursley. She, in contrast to Potter, yelped in pain and then shuddered violently, complaining loudly about freaks and how they all deserved to be put down.

Potter seemed to be fast losing his battle with consciousness and Severus realised, to his great surprise, that he was worried for the boy. Not in his usual rather clinical way, a concern for the safety of the tool that would defeat Voldemort, but for the child himself. The boy who had not uttered a single complaint, despite being in very obvious pain, and whom had just defended him and Malfoy to the Order, despite having seen everything that happened the night that Albus died.

Tonks and Lupin manoeuvred the Dursleys so that they were able to each place a finger on the bottle. The werewolf was explaining what was about to happen and Vernon Dursley was loudly denouncing all things magical, even as he was obviously ready to embrace magic enough to save the miserable lives of himself and his family. Lupin then took his place beside Malfoy, who stiffened as the man linked his arm with him and then peered timidly up at the werewolf through his long silky lashes. Tonks said, “Portus,” and they prepared to be whisked away.

Nothing happened.

For a moment or two there was general confusion, Dursley was decrying the uselessness of magic and furthermore the uselessness of the entire party, Weasley looked confused and Lupin looked somewhat desperate. He alone seemed to realise how quickly Potter was deteriorating. Potter had lost consciousness completely now and was just slumped in Severus’ arms, his breathing laboured, his temperature rising by the minute.

In desperation Severus freed one of his arms, supporting Potter with the other. He removed his finger from the Portkey put his hand in his pocket and found his penknife. His mother had given this instrument to him, years ago now, it was imbued with Stay-Sharp spells and Lose-Me-Not spells and Severus used it for collecting plant ingredients for potions.

He had a hunch. He wondered if the wards were too strong to let them through, it was just possible that Petunia’s blood was not closely linked enough to Lily’s to let them pass through the immensely strong blood protection. Maybe, just maybe, his blood was needed too, and if he was right, well he didn’t want to think about that right now either. He gently opened the knife and pressed his index finger to the blade tip, he then removed his hand from his pocket and replaced it on the bottle. Luckily everyone was shouting so loudly, that they did not hear the hiss or see the small flash of light or notice the fact that the object juddered.

He cleared his throat. “Um, maybe it just takes a minute or two for the Portkey to absorb the blood, I think we should try again.” Everyone stopped shouting and looked at him, Lupin narrowed his eyes and said.

“It should be instantaneous, that sort of magic. Have you done something Snape?”

Severus just met the werewolf’s gaze and said, “What do you think I’ve done now, Lupin?” Their eyes locked for a couple of seconds longer and this time Lupin said the activation spell. Severus felt the familiar tug around his navel and they were whisked away from Privet Drive.

They spun through space on their frenetic journey, whirling, turning. Upright one minute upside down the next, as the world sped past blended into a seemingly never-ending stream of blurred colour.

Then, long before they arrived at their destination, Potter let out a small groan and started to convulse.