Afraid to Live, Afraid to Die

**Please do not comment on how I write. It's simple. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. If there are mistakes however, you are more than welcome to point those out. This is Harry/Snape and will get dirty at some point, so please be patient.**


Italics = Harry's writing


Italics and ~ = Flashback


This is the 7th chapter out of 35, check back next weekend for Chapter Eight. Sorry this one is a little late.


CHAPTER SEVEN: SECRETS WITHIN


The record shows that you’re dead

But you’re still living

Every time you have died you

Have been given another chance


In My Life ~ The Rasmus

Once breakfast was over, Harry knew that the dreaded class was closing in. The boy would rather face Voldemort than sit in the class all year with Umbridge. Fred and George stopped by offering Ron one of their many products and Harry glaring at George when the twin almost spilled the secret about where they got the money from. Finally they moved on from breakfast and Cho approached them.


“Hello Harry!”


He nodded a welcome.


“What happened to you?” She asked, her face worried.


“It was Voldemort, but nothing to concern yourself about.”


“Oh, well my summer must have been better than yours,” Cho said softly.


“That’s a Tornado badge, isn’t it? How long have you been a fan?” Harry’s green words hung between them.


“Are you suggesting that I only support them because they’re winning?” She asked, hurt.


Harry let his face show that the comment surprised him, when it really didn’t. “Um…no. I just wanted to know how long you supported them.”


“Silly me, sorry Harry. I’ve been a fan since I was six,” Cho said cheerfully.


“I hope they win, just for you.” With that Harry walked away, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder in passing.


The bell sounded and the trio hurried down to potions. Snape called the room to settle down and stood in front of the class. He immediately launched into the first lecture of the year. After explaining what they were expected to accomplish in this session the students set to work. Harry was used to making the Draught of Peace, as he had made it several times for people who had been tortured by Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the first year.


As the silvery steam rose from the liquid, he recalled one of his own people that he had made it for.


~From inside the castle came screaming, echoing through the empty corridors. Harry was down in the dungeon, making the Draught of Peace for the person releasing their agony in the only way possible. Once the potion was finished, Harry bottled the entire cauldron in several, reused, clean vials. Carrying them all up towards Gryffindor tower he stopped by the room that was McGonagall’s. Pushing the door open, Harry saw his old teacher lying on her bed, twisting, screaming. Ron and Hermione held her down while Madam Pomfrey cast several spells over the Transfiguration teacher.


After handing the Healer one of the potions, Harry set the rest down on a desk, sitting in the chair. It had only been six months since the rise of Voldemort. The teacher would not be bullied into staying in the school. People were sick, some cursed and others were even dying. The lack of sufficient food was beginning to take its toll on the refugees, so McGonagall strolled out of the castle like no one could stop her.


However, when her back was to the Death Eaters, on the other side of the gate, they Crucioed her all at once. Harry ran to her side, ignoring everyone’s protest and knelt by her side. She was shivering, her eyes closed, probably unconscious. Picking up her frail form, he carried her back through the gates, while the Death Eaters laughed at their misfortune. When his back was turned, Harry saw a glint of green coming towards him. Without looking back, Harry had a shield protecting them, bouncing the curse back at the caster.


Turning his death glare on the men, they backed up, eyes wide with fear. It was then that they no longer bothered him. Once they had gotten her settled into her bed did she start screaming. For two day her cries filled the castle, and they could no longer let her suffer, hence the potion.~


Snape’s voice brought him out of his horrible thoughts.


“Well Mr. Potter, it seems your incompetence must be waning, although I suspect that we should consider ourselves lucky that it did not explode,” He sneered.


No emotion flickered across Harry’s face, years of hiding them put to use. Filling the flagon with the potion, he set it on Snape’s desk, rushing out when the bell rang.


The next class was Divination and the start of the dream diary, but when Trelawney reached the end of class, she did something different from last year.


“Now, for a quarter of their grade, who would like to come up here and predict their future? If we do not get everyone today then there is always next time.”


When no one volunteered for the first ‘seeing’ of the year, for the fear of looking the fool for those who did not practice, Professor Trelawney then called on Harry. Rolling his eyes, he came to stare into the crystal ball.


“Now, what do you see?” Trelawney asked.


“It’s the war, with Voldemort. We’re fighting, and we’re losing. I’m not strong enough to defeat him. Our numbers are too few, they’re dying. I’m beginning to lose hope, he’s overcoming us. There’s a flash of black, and I can no longer see. Yet I know we’ve lost. He’s beaten us.” Harry didn’t need to have an insight into the world of fortune telling, he knew it would come true, if he didn’t do anything about it.


Trelawney nodded her head and it was at that instant the bell rang. Harry mentally groaned, and knew it was time for the horrible class. Just sitting in her classroom felt horrible, with Ron mumbling under his breath. After the teacher’s insistence of a cheerier greeting, she said the thing every student hated.


“Wands away and quills out, please.”


The students grudgingly put them away, all except for Harry, whom Umbridge stopped by when he failed to do as instructed.


“You, student, put your wand away and your quill out,” Umbridge said, tapping his desk with a pudgy finger.


Harry shook his head at her.


“When I ask a question I expect you to answer, ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’,” She demanded, eerily cheerful.


Once again Harry shook his head.


“What is your name, student?” She asked.


“It’s Harry Potter, Professor,” Ron answered for him.


“Quiet! I am sure that Mr. Potter is capable of speaking for himself. Unless the lies he’s told have finally got his tongue,” She chided.


“Actually, I can’t speak. You see, I was cursed so now I am unable to say anything, much less tell lies, Professor Umbridge. As for putting my wand away, I will do no such thing, for you see, your precious Cornelius Fudge gave me permission to use the spell at all times, even in your classroom. So if you want to argue with this, I suggest you contact him, and suggest that he has made a mistake and revoke my right. However, if you do that, I’m afraid I’ll just have to go to the press about your illegal quills that you plan on using to harm underage students.” Harry smirked triumphantly.


Umbridge sputtered. “You wouldn’t, you’re lying!”


“I’m sorry Professor, I must not tell lies.” With that he held up his left hand, where the words were still carved into his flesh.


“Yes, but…I…never…” She was at a loss for words.


“Now, we’re going to conduct the class my way or I just might mention to the wrong person about your sick, twisted idea of detention.” He took control of the class from there, while Umbridge sat defeated in the chair, stunned.


After the class, everyone except the Slytherins congratulated him. Ron and Hermione walked beside him, answering most of their questions.


“That was bloody brilliant, mate! To see a teacher done in by a student,” Ron said, excited.


“Really Harry, it’s going to get you into trouble,” Hermione said.


“Oh come on, you weren’t going to read the silly book anyway. Then you were going to ask about using defensive spells, and then in private say we need a better teacher.”


Hermione blushed as she knew what he said was true.


“Really, Hermione? You were going to do that?” As her blush deepened, he continued, “Where’s the real Hermione and how do we get her to act like that more often?” Ron was teasing her, and because of it, she had to look away since she was blushing so brightly.


“What we need now is a teacher,” Harry mused.


“Why can’t you do it?” Ron asked.


The other two shot him a look, almost like they were calling him an idiot with their eyes.


“What about Remus?”


“Parents won’t want him teaching their children,” Hermione said.


“It wouldn’t be public. We could sneak him in. Let him stay in the Room of Requirement, I’d even pay him,” Harry pondered the thought more closely.


“How would we get him around the school? Not to mention feed him?” Hermione asked.


“I’d let him use the cloak and the Map. I could get Dobby to feed him.”


“Well I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Hermione sighed.


Harry nodded and by the time they went to dinner Harry remembered that book that was sitting his bag, unfinished. As he went to pull it out he realized that he had yet to write his letters. Pulling out his supplies instead, Harry thought carefully.


“Dear Moony,

I need to meet with you. Please come to the hidden place on the next safest night. Don’t bring Pads.

Love,

Mini-Prongs”


When the letter was incomprehensible to Dean, Harry left the Great Hall, finished with his meal. Making his way to the Owlery, Harry called down a school owl and Hedwig. Attaching the letter to Remus onto the school owl’s leg, he told the light brown bird where to take it. Putting another letter on Hedwig’s leg, Harry patted her on the head and told her to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Watching her white feathery body fade into the dark of night, Harry finally turned to return to the school.


Arriving at the spot that would lead him into Snape’s private quarters, Harry realized that he did not know the password. Without a word the statue of the snake moved, raising its head to look at him, yellow-slit eyes blinking at him.


“I’ve been instructed to allow you in on sight alone. Although it is my understanding that you can speak Parseltongue,” The snake hissed.


Harry did not attempt to speak the language, opting to point to his neck instead.


“Ah, you are not sure if your lost ability to speak affected that part of you,” The snake continued to hiss.


Harry nodded, his mind saying that it was just not possible.


“Well, you’re welcome to try anytime. I’ll be here,” The snake laughed, sounding malicious.


Leaving the snake to its way, Harry ducked into the chambers, glad when the wall closed behind him. Lifting his eyes, Harry saw the angry face of one Severus Snape.


“Where have you been, Potter?” A snarl in his tone.


“The Owlery, sending a letter. That’s all,” Harry defended himself.


Snape let loose a breath the teacher hadn’t known he was holding in.


“We really need a better way to communicate, Potter. I get enough of trying to decipher the chicken scratch that you call words, from your homework,” Snape was forcing himself to be harsh.


Harry pulled out the book he’d been carrying around all day. Taking the book from the boy’s hands, Snape flipped through the pages.


“A bonding spell. Hmm…you do know that most bonding spells are permanent, right Potter?” Harry nodded. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to do this with someone else? Once you’re bonded to someone, you can’t be bonded to anyone else.”


Harry shrugged. “If anyone’s going to understand my dark thoughts, it would be you, Half-Blood Prince.”


Snape whirled on him. “Where did you hear that from?”


“If you don’t want anyone else knowing, then you shouldn’t have your old school books in the classroom when you no longer teach potions.”


“Don’t ever mention this to anyone. Is that how you did so well in my class today?” He sneered.


Harry shook his head. “I’ve just had a lot of practice making today’s potion.”


Snape visibly relaxed. “Fine, I’ll look through this and get started on one I find appropriate,” Snape left, going into the lab Harry had seen earlier.


The boy was exhausted, but didn’t want to go to sleep, so he retreated to his room to read. There all of his belongings were put away, a Gryffindor banner hanging from the wall next to the bed. Sticking his head out into the hallway, Harry looked around; making sure that this was still Snape’s room. The boy was confused as to why Snape would allow a Gryffindor banner anywhere near him.


Sitting down on the bed, Harry noticed a potion on his nightstand. After picking it up, he noticed a note under it.


“Take it and go to sleep.”
There was nothing else on it, but the boy knew who it was from. After getting ready for bed, Harry slipped between the gray covers and downed the potion.


That night he slept, without having a nightmare. He awoke to Snape’s voice.


“Wake up Potter, and come to the lab,” Snape’s voice didn’t sound very muffled through the door.


Doing what he was told, he joined his teacher, still clad in his pajamas. Without warning Snape grabbed Harry’s hand, pricking his finger, and letting the blood drip into the potion. Then he did the same to himself. Harry wrinkled his nose, remembering the Polyjuice Potion back in 2nd year.
Snape poured them two cups, handing one to Harry. The potions master downed his cup, motioning for Harry to do the same. Once their cups were empty Snape spoke:


“Cognationis, revinctum mentis

Conserui pectoris eduro aetas.*


They glowed a gray-green color before it subsided.


“It will take two days to take effect. I suppose I can take more of your horrible handwriting until then.” Snape pushed him out of the lab, before leaving him in the hallway, preparing for the day.
Harry smiled to himself, then moved to get ready for the day.



* Connection by blood, bind fast feelings

Twine together minds to last a lifetime


_______________________


Preview of Chapter Eight: Too Many Lies I've Heard

“I was not ignoring you to be selfish. I thought that by staying away from you, Voldemort would not see what we were up too,” Dumbledore said easily.


Harry stood, his anger rolling off of him in magical waves, breaking every piece of glass in the room. “I know you, Dumbledore, better than you realize. Your aura is nearly black, and you can’t hide that from me. You better pick a side, old man, mine or Voldemort’s. Because this time I will win, have no doubt about that. And when I win, you will not be the one standing beside me.”



See you next time!!!