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

Bold - Mental speaking


Sorry that this chapter is late, but for the next month or so, I'll only be updating every other week. Something's come up that needs attention, but look for a special Halloween Harry/Draco next Friday!!


CHAPTER EIGHT: TOO MANY LIES I'VE HEARD

Beyond these clouds you can

Hide all your tears

Beyond this world you’ll be safe

From their wicked fears


Lucifer’s Angel ~ The Rasmus

It took two days for the potion to work, but Harry was more anxious to hear from Remus. So the day after he drank the potion he searched the birds for several minutes before he realized that he hadn’t sent the letter with his noticeably white owl. Yet she was in the hoard of darker birds, and he knew that the Weasley parents had sent a return letter. For delivering the letter, Harry gave her one of his sausages and she nipped his fingers affectionately, before flying out to get some rest. Opening it, he read their letter.


“Dear Harry,

Of course we’ll be home on the day indicated and look forward to your package. We would also love to have you for Christmas, and I won’t take no for an answer.

Mrs. Weasley”


The rest of the day proceeded as normal as any other day, except for when dinner came around and Dumbledore spoke to Snape, who then gave a pointed look at Harry. The boy merely averted his eyes to look at Neville, who was speaking about some plant he wanted. When dinner was finished Harry left his friends and made his way towards the Headmaster’s office. He was surprised to see the older man waiting for him outside the entrance.


“Harry, my boy, how nice to see you,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.


Harry didn’t meet the blue eyes, but instead walked past him into the open entrance. After sitting down, facing the other side of the desk, his mismatched eyes caught sight of Fawkes. There was no magical aura around the creature, and Harry didn’t know why.


Dumbledore crossed his line of vision and green eyes focused on him instead. The blue that surrounded the headmaster was dark, even darker than Umbridge’s, and Harry narrowed his eyes. With the usual offering of candy, Dumbledore sat back and watched the Savior.


“So, Severus and Poppy tell me that you’ve come from the future. Is that so?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry shrugged and looked away.


“If you don’t communicate with me, then I can not help you,” Dumbledore said.


“All my life you’ve manipulated me, lied to me, and left out important information. How am I supposed to trust you now?”


“Hmmm…yes, that is a problem,” Dumbledore was quietly thinking. “What I did, I did to protect you.”


“Leaving me with my Muggle family is not looking out for my welfare. Ignoring me this school year is not protecting me. Keeping me in the dark about what you were doing this year cost me the life of someone dear to me. The fact that you did not inform me makes me realize that you don’t trust me. My mind is connected to Voldemort’s, yes, it’s true, but by selfishly protecting yourself it hurt me. Cedric is the start of a long line of deaths, I also want him to be the last. I realize that we are at war, and that means we could suffer losses, but I will fight until my dying breath to keep everyone alive.”


“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.”


Harry stormed out of the office, his magic surrounding him, allowing the doors to open without him even touching them. The red haze that clouded his vision was quickly relieved when the alcohol was coursing through his system, as he sat in his usual kitchen chair. Harry wasn’t sure just how long he sat there, letting the amber liquid soothe his aching heart, but he must have fell asleep in front of the fire, because he opened his eyes to see a blurry Snape standing over him. Without the will to fully wake up, Harry felt strong arms lift him and he sank back into the darkness of sleep.


When he woke, Harry’s head was pounding and the lights seemed exceptionally bright. The boy hadn’t gotten that drunk since Ron and Ginny’s death. Yet he wouldn’t accept a hangover potion, instead preferring the pain that came with it. Snape’s pounding wake up seemed louder than the day before, probably because of the alcohol induced headache. Without responding in anyway, Harry hauled himself up from the bed and made his way to the shower.


As he passed by the mirror, he couldn’t tear his green eyes from his image. The circles under his eyes had darkened, and his hair looked as greasy as Snape’s. It lay limp against his head, and his cheeks were hollowed and pale. Even though he had yet to make it through his first week of school, Harry’s complexion was pale, almost like he was sick. The boy realized that he was dressed in only his boxers, unsure of who may have undressed him. The muscles he had gotten over the seven years before the battle, between Quidditch and on the run from Voldemort, seemed non-existent, leaving behind a skinny, bony boy. Multiple scars covered his body, several of them crisscrossing over others. Harry saw the collection of scars on his body, where he had let others hurt him on purpose, hoping that it would take away the pain of his friends’ death. Knowing that if he failed this time around, he could never bring them back again, aware that he could not live through that a second time, his attempts to take away the pain would ultimately lead to his own death.


Unable to look at himself any longer, Harry balled his fist and shoved it through the mirror, and even into the wall, smashing it into pieces that fell everywhere. Blood splattered on several of the pieces, where his fist had gotten cut on the sharp edges as they fell around his skin. Satisfied that he would no longer have to look at himself, Harry moved to the bathtub, ignoring the feel of crunching under his feet. More blood stained the glass as he took care of his morning duties.


It wasn’t until he reached the door to the bathroom, where the carpet started that he bothered to do anything about the bleeding. Using his wand, he picked out the shards embedded in his skin; he conjured bandages to wrap all of his wounds. Once he was wearing his uniform, Harry dug into his trunk for certain items that he had gotten at a Muggle store. After finding what he was looking for he pulled them on under his long-sleeved sweater. The black and red striped arm-sleeve covered the bandage on one hand, while the other was merely decoration, and to match the other glove. Pulling on his shoes carefully, he winced when he stood in the shoes, hoping that the blood wouldn’t seep through his shoes, leaving bloody footprints throughout the hallways.


He struggled through the day, with the pounding headache, the bright lights, and the pain. Although the pain he had caused reminded him that he was alive, and all through Potions class Snape was glaring at him especially hard. When dinner came a letter fell into Harry’s lap, and after recognizing Remus’ handwriting, he tore the letter open.


“Dear Mini-Prongs,

I would be glad to meet with you then. I’ll come alone.

Love,

Moony”


Harry showed the letter to his friends and Hermione checked her calendar for the next new moon. It was a week away, and that gave the trio time to put a group together in Hogsmeade that weekend. They sat huddled over the table, a parchment in front of them, planning.


“Potter, what are you doing?” Snape’s voice resounded in his head.


Blinking eyes looked up towards the teacher’s table, searching for his ‘guardian’. Once their eyes met Harry saw him staring at the group, one eyebrow raised, and a displeased look upon his face.

Harry wasn’t surprised by the voice in his head. After all, Voldemort had been there for years, and even after they made the treaty did they talk this way over long distances.


“Planning?” Harry supplied innocently.


“Planning what, Potter?”


“Um…we’re taking over Defense class for now. I’m going ask Remus to teach it. Umbridge won’t teach us anything, so I’m taking matters into my own hands. I can’t teach the class myself without a voice, and Ron and Hermione don’t have the experience, so I’m asking someone else,” Harry told the teacher without any hesitation.


“Don’t come crying to me when one of you gets injured,” With that Snape left the Great Hall.


Harry went back to planning with his friends happily, knowing that the teacher wouldn’t stand in his way. When the end of the day came, Harry flopped on his bed and let the pain take him into a black unconscious sleep. With the pounding of morning wake-up Harry noticed that his clothes had been changed, and his wounds tended to. They were faint now, hinting at the magic behind their healing and the boy scowled. Angry he stalked out of his room, dressed in only boxers, to find the man he suspected was behind it.


He found Snape in the Potions lab, and had the urge to punch the teacher.


“Why did you do it?” Harry’s thoughts were angry as he glared at the man.


“Potter, do you find it enjoyable to attempt to harm yourself? If that is the case, why don’t you just march up to the Dark Lord and have him kill you now. You almost died from blood loss last night. Imagine my surprise to find you staining the sheets when I came to check on you last night, pale and weak. Is that the way you plan on facing him when the time comes?” Snape’s words may have been concern, if not for the tone of sarcasm he was using.


“When the time comes I’ll be fine. I don’t need your concern, nor do you need to check on me. Despite what you may think I am a big boy, and can take care of myself.” Harry continued to glare, almost wishing that the teacher would just disappear.


“You are obviously wrong, Potter. Bleeding to death is not what most people think of as ‘taking care of myself’. As for concern, there’s no need to think that. I’m not concerned for you, but if you were to die under my watch neither side would be happy, and that stain would never come out. Now, stop glaring at me like you wish I was dead, and go back to your room and get ready for class,” Snape said, pushing the boy out of the room, slamming the door closed, separating them.


Surprise flooded Harry. Had he really been giving the teacher that look, the one where he wished the teacher was dead? Harry sank to the floor next to the door to the lab, his head sinking to his crossed arms on his knees. That was how Snape found him several minutes later, the words that crossed between them a low, muttering, incomprehensible chant.


“For what reason are you attempting to flood my rooms for?” Snape’s voice broke the silence.


Harry’s head shot up, a hand going to his cheek. Upon feeling the wetness of tears, green eyes looked up at the towering man, a watery smile on his face. As Snape continued to stare down at him like the boy had grown a second head, Harry stood. He suddenly clutched to the older man, holding him tightly, sobbing. Standing like that for several long minutes, Harry finally began calm down, his hiccupping sobs now fading.


“Are you done soaking me?” The words seemed normal coming from Snape, but the tone spoke of something deeper.


Harry nodded, refusing to look up at his teacher, confusion filling him. His face was red, but the boy was unsure why. Maybe because he had just cried on the teacher who had always seemed to hate him, or maybe it was because of some unknown feeling he felt swelling inside of him. Taking a deep breath seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Harry’s nostrils filled with the scent of his teacher, and he surprisingly did not smell like potions, rather he smelled like a combination of citrus fruits. Something deep inside Harry stirred but the boy fought it down. Quickly moving away from Snape before something else stirred, Harry nodded his thanks and disappeared down the hallway.


That weekend was their first Hogsmeade weekend, and the trio collected a group of kids in Hog’s Head and that was the start of the DA. When the night of the new moon approached, Harry couldn’t even pretend to sleep, so instead he sat in the living room, all of his books out like he was studying, but in actuality his eyes were focused on the fire. When the snake’s hiss vibrated through the stone wall, Harry stood, leaving his books where they lay and answered the door. Ron and Hermione stood there, with the map and the cloak in hand.


“Where are you going, Potter? It’s almost midnight,” Snape’s voice echoed in the still night.


“We’re going to meet Remus in the Shrieking Shack, and Ron and Hermione will walk me back,” Harry was already used to the mind-link they had. Snape had referred to it as Sentential* stage, according to the book there were four more stages, and each would bond them together more and more. Although the teacher assured him that the five stages would take years to complete, Harry was still a little worried about what the stages were, but Snape told him not to worry about it.


“I will not be responsible if you get caught out after curfew,” Snape said, after a long pause watching him.


Harry nodded and left the dungeon rooms with his friends. Under the Invisibility Cloak and using the map they made their way to the Whomping Willow. From there it was a clear shot to the Shrieking Shack and they saw footsteps leading up to the second floor. Following them, they found Remus in the room where they had first met Sirius and Harry immediately hugged the wolf Marauder.


“What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Harry?” Remus asked, sitting down on the bed with the others.


“We want you to teach Defense, seeing as how Harry can’t do it this time around,” Hermione started for him.


“I’ll pay you what the other teachers are making, but the teaching will be in private, for a few. You can stay in the Room of Requirement and keep the Invisibility Cloak and the Map. I’ll get Dobby to bring you food, and Snape even said he’d make you the Wolvesbane potion every month. You and Sirius could meet up at the Shack every month too. Please?” Harry pleaded with his facial expressions.


Remus sighed. “I’ll have to think about it, pup. Give me some time, alright?”


Harry nodded.


“I’ll owl you when I have an answer,” Remus said, petting Harry’s head.


“If you agree I’ll leave the cloak and map just inside of the Whomping Willow entrance the same night.” Harry smiled.


Remus studied Harry’s smile for a long moment before returning it. Once the children were safely back inside the school grounds Harry debated going to the kitchen, but when Hermione's hand wrapped around his upper arm he knew that he wouldn’t get away with it. The bushy haired girl knew that Snape had left him in their care, and despite not always liking the teacher; she wouldn’t do anything to betray that trust. Harry sighed and agreed with her, while Ron looked shocked.


The next morning Umbridge had been declared High Inquisitor and instated her first rule. Harry didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge that he heard the witch speaking about how she was doing this to better the school. Instead he had his head buried in a book about magical creatures, wondering just why he couldn’t see Fawkes’ aura. However when Snape’s voice spoke in his head, green eyes turned to look at the teacher.


“Did the wolf agree?


“He said he wanted to think about it, then Remus said that he wanted to talk to you privately at Headquarters soon.” Harry told Snape.


“Very well, I’ll see him tonight. Have Ron and Hermione come by after dinner, I want them to watch you. I’ll also be sending Professor McGonagall by to check on you, unless you find something else to do with another teacher nearby.” Snape’s voice sounded chiding.


“I was thinking of seeing Madam Pomfrey about my voice, I’ll go straight there after dinner and you can ask her afterwards that she walked me back to the rooms. I won’t be offended,” Harry smiled.


“Like I’m worried about offending you, Potter,” Snape’s voice shot back.


Harry’s smiled broadened and he winked at his professor.


_________________


Preview of Chapter Nine: Living For Tomorrows

The quiet was killing Harry. A bottle came floating from the storage room and set itself next to Harry. “Drink it. It’s the next potion you need to take.”


Doing as he was instructed, ignoring the horrible taste, he put the empty vial back on the table.
“How long will I have to take this? When will I speak again?” Harry questioned.


Snape sighed; obviously the boy wasn’t going to let him work in peace. “Your throat is very damaged. We believe the spell used was ‘Silentium Aeterna’ and we are actually not sure if we can cure it.”


“’Silentium Aeterna’…hmm…that sounds familiar,” Harry’s thoughts mused.