»»————- song: ————-««
you are loved
★ josh groban ★
❝ don't give up
because you want to be heard
if silence keeps you, i...
i will break it for you
everybody wants to be understood
well, i can hear you.❞
♢ ♢ ♢
preview:
Snape was too late. He knew, when he saw on the map Harry and Dumbledore already in the office. He knew which decision Harry had made, knew how damn selfless that boy was, how little self-preservation he had. Still he flew down corridors, up stairs, because what else could he do?
He had to talk to Harry. He had to change his mind, Snape thought as entered the stairwell to Dumbledore's office. He'd do anything to prevent Harry from returning to that place. He'd yell, he'd scold, he'd plead if he had to. He'd—
He stopped, foot freezing above the first step.
Harry was slowly making his way down the spiral staircase, head down, one hand trailing against the wall. Snape's heart thudded in his chest.
"Harry," he said. "You—"
Harry looked up, stopping where he stood ten steps above the bottom of the stairs. He stared down at Snape from where he stood, and Snape stared up at him. Harry looked impossibly small.
"What did the headmaster say to you?" Snape asked, almost pleadingly. And what did you say?
There was a silence. A sliver of light shone through the window and fell upon Harry's eyes, illuminating them a brilliant green.
And Snape held his breath.
♢ ♢ ♢
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked as he gestured for Harry to sit down.
"No thanks," Harry said, and surprised himself at his lack of a stutter.
If Dumbledore was surprised at all, he didn't show it. He smoothly sat down and regarded Harry seriously over his half-moon spectacles.
Harry, now significantly more nervous than he had been ten seconds ago, tried not to shift in his seat. "Am I... in trouble?" he asked tentatively, then mentally slapped himself in the face. What a non-Slytherin thing to say. If he was in trouble, that wasn't the best thing to open with.
"Nothing of the sort," Dumbledore said, the gravity of his voice unchanging. "I wish to talk to you of a serious matter."
"Okay..." Harry said, confused.
"About your home situation," Dumbledore said.
A rock dropped into Harry's stomach.
"I understand that it has been less than ideal," Dumbledore said, and his tone was gentle now. "Year after year, I watch as everyone leaves for home, excited to go home. And then I see you, reluctant, and I ask myself: what am I to do?"
"I know your life has not been the easiest," Dumbledore said. "Petunia may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."
Harry hadn't known there had been a charm. Suddenly, things clicked into place. It wasn't just a mother's love. It was also Dumbledore, taking advantage of the first requirement for a mother's sacrifice, a mother's blood to be shed, in order to protect Harry, who had survived against all odds. But a charm didn't explain why Voldemort had been defeated in the first place, by a mere baby. Of the hundreds of children of doomed witches who must have pleaded with Voldemort to spare their child, why was Harry the one who cast Voldemort into temporary limbo?
But he didn't ask Dumbledore any of this.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Everything I've done, Harry, is to keep you safe. The blood wards were the only way. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, sensing it would be best to agree here, though he didn't.
Dumbledore looked satisfied at this answer, and leaned forward. "I've reassessed the situation," he said softly. "There is an option for you now. We may be able to relocate you."
Harry thought maybe he hallucinated for a second. "Re... relocate me?" he croaked. "Away from the Dursely's, you mean?" He knew he sounded desperate and weak. But if there was any chance—any chance at all—he didn't care.
"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "But I must preface this by saying that in general, it's not ideal. And while I know it is the best case scenario for you now—" Dumbledore held up a hand, "—we must think of the future."
Whatever joy Harry felt in the last few seconds were dashed to dust. Of course. Of course it was too good to be true. "Okay," he said flatly. "What about the future? Sir?"
"Such as the Dursley's, for one thing," Dumbledore said. "What will happen, do you think, if you no longer call Privet Drive home?"
A slow sheet of dread settled upon Harry's skin, cloaking him in horror. "They... they won't be under any protection?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely, and sighed with regret. "Of course, I would do everything in my power to protect them, as I'm sure you'd wish," he said. "But I cannot guarantee anything, not when Voldemort truly comes back."
"Of course," Harry breathed. "I... I can't let them... I can't let them die..."
"And as for relocating you," Dumbledore said, "We must also think for the safety of those who would reside with you."
"They'd be in danger too," Harry whispered miserably. "I can't do that to someone."
Dumbledore gave him a sad, grandfatherly smile. "You must think very carefully about the people you care about, especially going forward," Dumbledore said.
There's were pinpricks of light in Harry's eyes as it got more and more difficult to breathe. What was he supposed to do? The answer should have been simple. He had to stay with the Dursley's. He couldn't endanger any more people than he already had. He had already been the cause of his parents' deaths. He had to prevent suffering at all costs. So what if the Dursley's withheld food sometimes, or made him garden at high noon, or that he never got birthday gifts or wishes? So many people had it so much worse. How could Harry complain at the cost of human lives?
"And so I leave the decision up to you. I value your judgement, Harry."
Coming from Dumbledore, this was high praise, and Harry felt dismayed at himself for feeling the smallest glow of pride at these words of affirmation. But something about his words also were off, didn't ring true.
"But I don't care about the Dursley's," Harry said. And Dumbledore's gaze turned to lasers.
"Love. Everything is about love," Harry said. "You said so yourself. But I've never known love, never, until I came to Hogwarts. Number 4 Privet Drive isn't my home. You're telling me there's a chance for me to leave, and then you tell me to think carefully, to not leave. The fact that you're telling me it's possible means you've already made arrangements for both scenarios."
Harry breathed fast, his blood buzzing in his veins. "So, Professor Dumbledore, I choose to leave. I'd rather die because I left the Dursley's than live because I stayed, miserable for seventeen years."
He wasn't sure where those words had come from. He wasn't sure when he had become the sort of person who was so ready to condemn his blood relatives to possible torture and death by the most evil wizard who ever lived, or an innocent person to endanger themselves by taking Harry in. But try as he might, he couldn't take his words back. He had tasted freedom for a moment, and it was so sweet. His mind, saturated by years of neglect and misery, arrested his tongue, refused to let him say the words that would make him give up that freedom.
Dumbledore stared at him. And though as usual, his expression did not give anything away, Harry wondered if Dumbledore was seeing a new person.
"Very well," Dumbledore said. "I respect your decision, Harry."
But you don't agree with it, Harry thought. But any misgivings he may have had, any doubts or fears vanished when he realized he was free. He was finally free.
"Who... who will I be staying with?" Harry asked tentatively, not wanting to rock the boat, not wanting to say anything that might land him back with the Dursley's. For a moment of terror, Harry wondered if there was a wizarding equivalent of the Muggle foster care system. The Dursley's and especially Marge had wasted no opportunities threatening to send him to an orphanage or into "the system."
In the next hopeful moment, Harry thought of Sirius, living with someone who wanted him, who knew his parents, who took care of him as a baby. Remembering that Sirius was in jail, his mind cast around for someone else. Lupin, perhaps. Lupin would be kind, and wouldn't hesitate to take him in, surely—
"Professor Snape will have custody of you by the time the paperwork goes through," Dumbledore said.
Total silence.
"What?"
"You will be staying with Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, slower this time, and gentler. And although his eyes were still sharp and laser-like, it looked like the slight smile on his face was in spite of himself.
"You're joking," Harry said.
"I am in fact not joking," Dumbledore said, and some of the twinkle returned to his eyes. "Most of the forms have been signed and sealed. It will take time to process, and you may have to return to Number 4 Privet Drive for a day or two, but—"
Harry barely heard the last part, barely cared. "Professor Snape is taking me in? He... he agreed to this?"
"On the contrary, Harry, I think you'll find he did a lot more than simply agree," Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes on full blast. "Why don't you ask him?"
Harry stood unsteadily. "I..." he started, not sure what he meant to say. He hated Dumbledore and loved him at the same time, hated him for his mind games, loved him because Dumbledore had saved him. Freed him.
Harry got to the door. "Thank you, Professor," he said quietly.
"My boy," Dumbledore said, even quieter, "I wish you all the happiness you deserve."
And Harry left, not able to bear any more.
♢ ♢ ♢
Snape was too late. He knew, when he saw on the map Harry and Dumbledore already in the office. He knew which decision Harry had made, knew how damn selfless that boy was, how little self-preservation he had. Still he flew down corridors, up stairs, because what else could he do?
He had to talk to Harry. He had to change his mind, Snape thought as entered the stairwell to Dumbledore's office. He'd do anything to prevent Harry from returning to that place. He'd yell, he'd scold, he'd plead if he had to. He'd—
He stopped, foot freezing above the first step.
Harry was slowly making his way down the spiral staircase, head down, one hand trailing against the wall. Snape's heart thudded in his chest.
"Harry," he said. "You—"
Harry looked up, stopping where he stood ten steps above the bottom of the stairs. He stared down at Snape from where he stood, and Snape stared up at him. Harry looked impossibly small.
"What did the headmaster say to you?" Snape asked, almost pleadingly. And what did you say?
There was a silence. A sliver of light shone through the window and fell upon Harry's eyes, illuminating them a brilliant green.
And Snape held his breath.
"Did you really agree to take me in?" Harry asked, ignoring the question. His voice echoed through the chamber.
"Agree?" Snape said. "Agree? Harry, I practically begged."
Something shifted on Harry's face, from doubt to something akin to surprise.
And suddenly, in a flurry of robes, small, thin arms wrapped around Snape's chest. So surprised, Snape almost lost his balance as one arm caught the wall.
He needs to eat more, was the only thing Snape could think.
"Thank you," Harry whispered.
Snape blinked. He stared down at the messy, tangled mass of black hair and it occurred to him that he had not been hugged in a very, very long time. He lifted a slow hand, and placed it hesitantly, gingerly, on Harry's back.
And after what seemed like a very, very long time, Harry whispered, "Am I a bad person?"
Snape pulled away slightly to frown down at him. "Are you a bad—Harry, what are you talking about?"
Harry pulled away, looking embarrassed, and sat down onto the first step of the staircase. He buried his face into his knees. Snape, after a moment's hesitation, sat down next to him.
"Dumbledore told me... he reminded me that if I leave... if I choose to leave Privet Drive... the Dursley's won't be protected anymore. That I'll be endangering the person who takes me in."
Snape had to close his eyes his second as the world around him went red. He shouldn't have let Dumbledore get to Harry first. He should have been quicker, before Dumbledore could plant these seeds of doubt and guilt into Harry's mind. But it appeared they had already sprouted.
"And I still chose to leave," Harry whispered. "I chose to put them in danger. I chose to put you in danger."
"No," Snape said, as a wave of triumph overtook him at Harry's first few words. "No. Stop. Stop, and listen to me, carefully."
Harry looked up at Snape, face splotchy, green eyes rimmed red.
"Do you know how many years I worked for Voldemort?" Snape asked. He ignored the confused look on Harry's face. "Four years. Four years, as I watched Voldemort murder a good number of his own followers. And of those four years, I was a spy for two. Harry, my own safety was never part of the equation. I chose this for myself. And I chose to fight for you. I ran up here because I..." Snape paused, trying to collect himself, and took a deep breath.
"I was terrified that you wouldn't fight for yourself. I came here fully convinced that you had chosen to suffer to protect the lives of people who never cared to protect you. But look at you. You did exactly what I hoped you'd do."
"Be selfish?" Harry asked sarcastically. But he didn't meet Snape's eyes.
"To fight for yourself. For what you deserve," Snape said. "That's not selfishness. That's strength. And you were stronger than I ever could have hoped."
Harry ducked his head.
"As for the Dursley's..." Snape said darkly. "If it were up to me, I'd let Voldemort have them. But as it stands, Dumbledore is a far more forgiving person than I. I almost guarantee nothing will happen to them, Harry."
The relief on Harry's face upset Snape more than he cared to admit. He didn't like seeing Harry care so deeply about the people that had abused him. But that wasn't something Snape could change, at least not any time soon.
"But..." Harry said, lifting his head again, "What about... when Voldemort comes back? What will you do? Won't you have to be a spy again?"
"Could it turn out to be a problem? Possibly," Snape said matter-of-factly. "Do I care about that right now? Not really. What are the odds that Voldemort comes back to full power within the next few years? I'd say slim to none. In the meantime, what's more important is that you have a home. A home where your needs are met.
"And... Harry, I admit I was not my first choice for you. I almost rather you had gone to Lupin, or even—" Dare he say it "—Black. Or the Weasley's. I debated with myself, I fought with myself. I would be the worst possible guardian for you. No, Harry," Snape said when Harry opened his mouth to object. "It's a fact. I'm not exactly the best example of a person who knows what a stable home life looks like. Committment is not the issue here. If this was going to happen, it would be longterm. But the question was whether I'd do right by you."
Snape took a breath. "In the end, I had to recognize that Dumbledore would be more likely to agree to take you away from the Dursley's if I suggested myself. He wouldn't have let you go to anyone else. He trusts my judgement and skills almost unconditionally. So... I can't promise I'll do the best job. But I'll be damned if I don't try."
Harry stared at Snape with an expression close to bewilderment. "But... do you really want me?" he asked carefully. "You're not doing this because you feel you have to?"
"I feel like I have to do this because I want you," Snape said patiently. "Not out of obligation, but because I think this is the best option for you."
Harry looked like he had no idea what to say to this. "So," he said slowly, "I won't ever be going back to Privet Drive?"
"A couple days, perhaps," Snape said. "And then never again."
"You'll take me in? Every summer?" Harry pressed.
"Every summer," Snape promised.
"And you really don't mind?"
"Harry, if you keep asking me that, I'm going to take back the perfect score you got on your final exam," Snape said.
Harry's mouth fell open. "You're kidding," he said. "Perfect score?"
"I am in fact not kidding," Snape said, smiling slightly. "You were one of three people to manage such an impressive score on the theory portion of the exam."
"Let me guess, Hermione and Draco," Harry said, but immediately looked shocked. "Wait, I got a perfect score? Along with Hermione and Draco?"
"I always knew it was in you," Snape said, rising to his feet.
Harry snorted. "Yeah right. Who was it that told me my brain was made out of flobberworms, again?"
Snape reached out a hand to help Harry up. Without hesitation, Harry grabbed it.
"What happened to water under the bridge?" Snape said, with a small eyebrow raise to indicate that he was joking.
Harry smiled, but suddenly looked shy again. "Thank you, Professor. I mean it." He seemed to run out of any more words, and looked down at his trainers. His battered, worn out trainers.
We need to go shopping, Snape thought, and it alarmed him to realize that he was already building a life inside his head. A future.
He sighed. "Don't thank me just yet," he said. "We can only hope this is going to turn out alright. And in a way, I'm cleaning up my own messes, aren't I?"
Snape looked at Harry and tapped him lightly on the head. "But all the same, you're welcome."
The smile Harry gave him was priceless, a perfect snapshot of pearlescent joy and brilliant green eyes. And Snape smiled back.
don't give up
it's just the hurt that you hide
when you're lost inside i...
i will be there to find you.
a/n: WOOOOHOOOOO WE FINALLY GOT THERE FOLKS THE SLOW BURN WAS REAL LET'S CELEBRATE HERE HAVE A CAKE 🎂
anyway
i've been stressing all day about finding research opportunities and clinical hours oh my god i'm gonna have to start cold emailing professors and be like "hey what's up i thought your paper on rat bladders and urethral sphincter muscles was SUPER interesting please let me into your lab"
take my advice and don't do premed
also happy thanksgiving to my american peeps if i don't upload again before then... which i probably will lmao