Written In Blood

Too many plot bunnies in my head and this is the result of one that wouldn\'t leave me alone even though I was working on The Boy Who Dreamed.

(Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter, nor any elements of the Harry Potter universe. Much as I would like to be part of it, I\'m afraid that\'s not to be. Anyways, no, I don\'t get money for this and I don\'t claim anything as mine other than the plot.)

(Warning: Will be male male, as well as angsty probably.)

(Also, the Dursley\'s don\'t play a very large roll in this fic. And Snape has a secret. *Gasp of shocked horror and promptly faints*)


Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in his office, staring almost blankly into the flames of his fireplace. Fawkes hooted sadly, and Albus sighed, only then turning his attention to his familiar.

“Old friend, I think it went too far this time. After everything else, I don’t know if he can get through this. I fear I have done nothing but add to his burdens when what I meant to do was the exact opposite. But now, what can I do? The ministry now has the Dursley’s listed as Harry’s legal guardians. My hands are tied. We can only sit back and hope that they never become worse than they already are.” Fawkes trilled, and left his perch, coming to rest on Albus’ shoulder and lay his head upon his human’s.

An owl flew in not a moment later, and Fawkes trilled at the snowy bird in greeting. Albus frowned. There was only one person he knew that had a snowy owl, and that was Mr. Potter in question. He eyed the envelope warily; relieved to see it was normal, and not a bright red howler.

He opened the envelope and his frown grew deeper. In very familiar sloppy handwriting were two words. “I’m sorry.”

He peered at the note pensively; not knowing that in the upper hills of Scotland, someone else was receiving a similar owl post, but it was so very different.
*~*~*~*~*

Dark robes swirled around him, as he made a few adjustments to his latest project. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight; he’d been much too busy as of late to go out for leisurely purposes. His black hair hung loose about his face, masking his eyes and dripping slightly from his recent shower. The slight smile that had been tugging his lips vanished as a large, black owl fluttered in through his open window. He didn’t mind having his owl coming in and out, but the fact was that usually owl post was not a good thing for him, and that caused him to scowl. The owl seemed to scowl back at him, and he had a fleeting image of a Muggle cartoon owl sticking his tongue out at him. The thought made him chuckle, though it quickly disappeared as he removed the post.

“What?” He asked the owl. “You know where your food and water are Archimedes, get it if you want.”

Archimedes huffed and flew off, leaving the man to glare at the offending piece of paper. The outside of the scroll itself was blank, and held nothing, not even a name. There were no traces of magic across the seal.

He sighed, wondering what game of deception he would be caught up in this time as he opened the scroll. His frown turned into complete surprise and horror at the white parchment. There was no name attached. He doubted he would have noticed even if there were. He was too busy staring at the piece of paper he held in his hands. It was a short message, containing only a handful of words, but his mind didn’t even register the words to start with. No, all he saw was the red, smeared liquid that literally coated the small piece of parchment. All he saw was the blood. It took several seconds before the message even sank in.

I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry.

He didn’t have to stop and guess whom the note could be from. He knew. There was only one person who had reason to tell this man that something wasn’t his fault. That someone was Harry Potter.oughough, how Potter could have retrieved his owl was beyond him. He had one rule of thumb about his owl. That rule was simple. No one touched Archimedes. No one touched anything that belonged to Severus Snape.

He knew all about the tantrum Potter had thrown in the Albus Dumbledore’s office after returning from the Ministry at the end of last year. The thought made him grimace in disgust. The spoiled brat had left Albus’ office in shambles, yet Albus had done nothing to punish the Gryffindor. He turned more blind eyes to that boy than even the Mauraders had received. But, of course Potter had thrown a fit. He blamed Albus and Severus for what had happened to his godfather. Personally, Severus thought it was the mutt’s own fault for going when they told him not to.

When Severus had walked into Albus’ office later that night he had been floored by the mess that surrounded him. Albus was sitting back in his chair, calm as ever, but with no twinkle evident as his eyes as he righted a chair for Severus to sit in. When questioned, Albus had merely said, “Just a young man who has lost the last remaining member of family that he claimed.” Severus had snorted at the ridiculous of that, earning himself a stern look from the headmaster. “We’d best hope that he continues placing blame on one of us, Severus, or even that he figures out that this was Sirius’ fault and no one else’s, but until then, I don’t care if he blames me to Hell, and you don’t care about him anyways, so I doubt whatever he thinks bothers you. If he starts blaming himself though...”

The conversation had ended there.

He stared now at the note in his hand, and for some reason his heart clenched painfully. Suddenly, Albus’ reluctance to finish that statement made sense. Severus had a sudden flash of Potter lying in a puddle of blood, and scowled heavily before discarding the notion as ridiculous.

Potter was a lot of things, but suicidal was not one of them. No, he enjoyed the limelight too much to ever do something that incredibly stupid. Then again, he was a Potter, and Potter’s were known for their selfishness.

Except for Lily of course, Lily had been the role model for what Gryffindors were supposed to be. Unfortunately, the only things of Lily’s that Potter had inherited were those eyes. He was his father’s incarnate, in looks and actions. Pity that only half of Severus’ brain believed that to be true. The other half continually reminded him of why Harry always seemed to be in so much trouble.

All of the times that Harry had been in serious danger had nothing to do with selfishness, just the opposite in fact. First year had been deranged Defense teacher with a face on the back of his head, and Harry had willingly gone against that man to protect others, something that had nearly killed him. Second year it had been the Chamber of Secrets, hearing voices, fighting a basilisk, and meeting Tom Marvolo Riddle. He had gone to the Chamber to protect his friend, not on some hero seeking high. Again, he had nearly died, this time due to the venom from the basilisk fang. Third year, Harry had been in no danger from Sirius Black, and Severus had known that. Fourth year was a Hell to be blamed entirely on Voldemort’s twisted mind. Harry’s selflessness had shown through again as he warned Cedric Diggory about the dragons, saved Fleur’s sister, and shared the Tri-Wizard cup with Diggory. Diggory had died because Voldemort was a heartless SOB.

Then, there was last year.

Not even Severus Snape could truly blame what happened on Potter, but that didn’t mean he was going to blame himself, mind you. No, the escapade at the ministry came back to one person, and one person only. Voldemort. It was he who sent the fake vision to Potter, and Potter had had no way to know any different. He had behaved rashly, but it was due to love that he had done so. Albus had said Harry had lost the last remaining member of family that the boy claimed, he wondered what that was supposed to mean.

All of the teaching staff at Hogwart’s knew Harry lived with his Muggle relations in Little Whinging, Surrey. If memory served Severus correctly then Harry lived with his aunt, uncle, and a cousin. The aunt had been Lily Potter’s sister.

Severus couldn’t see a Gryffindor disowning his family because they were Muggles, that was something that some of the older Slytherin families would do. Then again, the rules never applied to Harry Potter, so why shouldn’t he disown his only family for being Muggles?

Severus sighed. All this thinking was not doing well for his head. He could feel a migraine starting, and he didn’t like dealing with migraines when he was at his home. He couldn’t get rid the blood stained letter out of his mind though, and he sighed again. It was most un-Snapelike to do that twice in five minutes.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry groaned as he opened his eyes. He immediately shut them again. It was too bright. Dimly he was aware that what had awoken him was the loud crack that accompanied an apparation, but he didn’t bother looking around. He tried desperately to rack his brain for where he was and how he had gotten there. He remembered sitting in his room last night, playing with the knife in his hand as he wrote a quick note to Dumbledore. He had bought it just two days ago, for the simple purpose of keeping Dudley and his goons away, but then the knife had slipped and slit into his skin. The pain took his breath away momentarily. An owl hooted at him and Harry turned his head to look at the black owl. He had came home with Hedwig the other night and seemed quite content to remain there, never mind the fact that Aunt Petunia had nearly chucked a frying pan at Harry’s head when she spotted the other owl flying around out back.

The owl was staring at the cut on Harry’s arm almost admonishingly, but Harry just rolled his eyes and gave Hedwig the note for Dumbledore. She left with a soft whoot, and the other owl had taken up her spot on Harry’s desk, watching him anxiously. Harry sighed, absently stroking the owl feathers. He couldn’t stop himself though as he stared down at the blood that was slowly running down his arm. The initial cut had hurt, but there was something left in its place, something that Harry had never really known. Something that felt amazingly close to peace.

He watched in a detached sort of fascination as he raised the knife and brought it down purposefully into his skin. The pain was sweet and mind numbing, filling the emptiness he felt in his soul with pain. Anything was better than the emptiness.

He repeated the action again and again, until his arms were gashed open and he could see no flesh, only the blood. His head began to swim and as it did a thought occurred to him. Dumbledore was not the only one who deserved Harry’s apologies. No, there was someone else who deserved the apology just as much, if not more. Someone that Harry had tried desperately hard to blame.

He looked around his desk, his vision fogging, but he had used the last of his ink to write those two words to Dumbledore. He pulled out a scroll from his desk and straightened it, watching in fascination as the rivulets of blood dripped onto the page. He smiled dazedly, brushing his fingers into the red liquid and then began to write…

Harry shuddered at the memory and looked down at his arms. The cuts were still there, still gashed open, only now the blood was caked and dried. He had sent the letter with the dark owl, and then had left the Dursley’s. It was a habit he’d developed as of late, sneaking out for late walks. But, he usually only walked to the park and this was definitely not the park. He looked around again, frowning as he slowly heaved himself up to his feet. He stumbled slightly and turned around. And then he knew where he was. He was there. The one place on Earth that he would rather die than look at again. Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He stomach rolled violently, and he swayed where he stood.

His feet slowly took him up to the porch, though his mind was saying no with every step. His hand brushed the door and it swung open to him. He couldn’t hear anyone, but then it was best to be quiet unless you were in a warded room. He closed the door and slowly made his way inside, his footsteps muffled on the carpet. He could just see a light under the kitchen door and he made his way there without thinking. Again the door was opened for him without his turning a knob or pushing the heavy wood. It merely slid open as his hand ghosted against the frame.

There was a gasp from the inside of the room, but Harry’s eyes weren’t adjusting to the light. People were talking to him, and Harry thought vaguely that the voices sounded familiar. Why were they here? Had he walked in on an Order meeting? Most of the voices sounded like they belonged to the Weasleys, though there were two others. Remus Lupin maybe and… was that Snape?

“For mercy’s sake, Arthur, shut them up. His senses are being overwhelmed.”

He felt himself being guided further into the room and helped into a chair. The room tilted precariously, and for a moment he was afraid he was going to pass out again. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but the room slowly began to slide into focus, the overly bright light dimming, and the blurred blobs coming into sharp focus. He became aware of something being poured down his throat and pulled away slightly. He blinked and looks around, first meeting the worried blue green eyes of Remus Lupin who was kneeling in front of him, with Harry’s hands clasped in his own, rubbing slow circles on the backs. He tilted his head slightly and discovered Professor Snape leaning over him. Charlie Weasley stood behind him, so that Harry’s back was braced against him.

Harry blinked slightly again, his body going almost limp as he leaned his side against the back of the chair. Suddenly, he felt very drained. His breathing was shallow and before he even registered who else was in the room, Snape himself had lifted him into his arms and was carrying him up the steps to an empty bedroom. He tried to protest but it only came out as a very small moan, as his body slipped back into peaceful darkness.

Remus followed behind, leaving the rest in the kitchen staring after them. He watched as Severus gently placed Harry down on the bed, and sat down beside him. Remus sat down on the other side, gently stroking his fingers through Harry’s unkempt hair. Severus looked coldly at the hand but didn’t comment as he checked Harry over.

He wasn’t a healer, but Healers and Potions Masters had to have the same training. After all, one never knew what could go wrong with a potion. His hands were gentle, and he hesitated more than once at the deep cuts on Harry’s arms. He glanced over at Lupin, and the look in the werewolf’s eyes said quite clearly that he too had seen the cuts. His expression was pained as he looked back down at the too pale boy and then looked up at the ceiling. Severus thought the werewolf was praying, until he heard the words.

“Sirius, damn your arrogant furry hide to Hell for this!” Severus blinked in surprise, and stared at the other man. “Just had to go rushing off despite what was said and get your self killed. Stupid fool, he can’t do this! Do you hear me Sirius?! If we lose him now it’s your damned fault!”

Severus wondered if he should slip a calming potion into Lupin’s coffee, but as quickly as the rant began, it ended and he turned his head to look at Severus. Severus blinked, startled. He hadn’t seen that look since Lupin had found out about Sirius ‘prank’ involving Severus and a transformed Lupin.

“Lupin?”

“It’s not fair, Severus.” Despite Severus’ coldness towards him, Lupin hardly ever resorted to calling the other man by his last name. “I don’t care what you, or anyone else says, Harry isn’t what everyone thinks. He’s not prideful like James was, he’s not the over confident person. He’s just Harry, and he’s been denied so much, I don’t know how he’s going to keep going.”

Severus started to reply scathingly, but for some reason those words got lost and replaced themselves with a question totally off topic. “How in the Hell did he apparate here?”

Lupin only shrugged as he brushed his fingers again through the too-small-boy’s hair. “From the condition he’s in, it could be any number of things. We can ask when he wakes back up. What’d you give him anyways?”

“Just a mild sleeping aid. His body is weak enough from the blood loss that he didn’t have a chance to fight it. The condition he was in when he walked into the kitchen was due to his body and magic trying to adapt to everything at once, that’s why he was being so overwhelmed. It also took much too long for his body to go back to normal, which gave me time to pour the sleeping draught into him. It’s also why he was out almost immediately.”

Lupin nodded and sighed. “Is he okay to leave long enough to go back downstairs and finish the meeting?”

Severus looked skeptically at the boy. “Yes. The sleeping draught should keep him out for at least a few hours. When we’re done I’ll come back up and give him a blood replenishing elixir as well.”

Lupin nodded and followed Severus out the door, looking back at Harry worriedly.