lomonaaeren

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter One.

Title: Leopard’s Choice (16/60)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Mentions of canon background pairings, otherwise gen
Content Notes: Angst, AU (Harry Sorted into Slytherin at the end of second year), violence, gore, torture, present tense
Rating: R (for violence)
Summary: Sequel to Wolf’s Choice. Harry enters his fifth year with the Ministry demanding he retract his stories of Voldemort’s return, his allies demanding sacrifices he may not want to make, and the world becoming sharper with every breath.
Author’s Notes: This is the sequel to Other People’s Choices and Wolf’s Choice, and the third part of the Choices series. Seriously, don’t try to read this without having read the other stories first. I anticipate this being 60 chapters, like the others in the series. Also, please take the violence warning seriously. Like OoTP, this fic will get considerably darker than the others.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Sixteen—Diminishing

Harry wakes up feeling as if he’s wound in spiderwebs. He can hear Lion’s agitated hissing, but it’s muffled, as though someone has shoved cotton in his ears. Harry grunts and rolls over, taking a moment to blink up at the canopy above him and realize that he’s in his bed in Slytherin.

The last thing he remembers is Severus dosing him with that stupid sleeping draught. Harry mutters under his breath as he reaches for his wand and casts a spell that should tell him the time.

10 AM leaps into the air beside him, while Lion’s hissing suddenly makes sense.

“…too much time! There was too much time! You slept too much time, and she put me in the corridor for too much time!”

Harry grimaces and hits the side of his head with a clenched fist, then sits up and reaches out his arm for Lion, who’s coiling back and forth on his pillow. “I’m awake now,” he says. “And you know that you had to go into the corridor. There was a chance that Umbridge could have hurt you, otherwise.”

“I would protect you!”

Harry holds silent the thought that he could defend himself better than Lion could ever manage. He gently touches his snake’s head until Lion coils close to him and stops hissing. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then he flings the curtains back, because, what the hell. Severus said that the potion would make him sleep through Charms, not spend all night asleep and wake up the next morning!

There’s no one in the bedroom with him, or at least it doesn’t seem like it at first. Then Theo’s curtains stir, and he makes his way to the side of the bed and slides to the floor, giving a cool nod to Harry. “Good morning.”

Harry stares at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Saying good morning to you.”

Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. He supposes he should have known that Theo would be a sarcastic little shit right after his—well, his detention with Umbridge, even though it was just such a boring detention that he fell asleep during it. “I mean, why are you here right now? Why did Professor Snape let me sleep this long? We have Defense right now!”

“He was hardly going to leave you unprotected.” Theo smiles a little, an expression that seems to have more teeth than it did the last time Harry really noticed it. Then again, Theo has been taking his Animagus training seriously. “And he gave permission for both of us to miss Defense. Umbridge will have something else to deal with.”

“What?” Harry asks, wary, suspicious. He’s still unsure what will happen if Severus acts too openly against the Ministry.

“He convinced the Weasley twins to spy on Umbridge for him,” Theo says calmly, as if this kind of thing happens every day and Severus is more likely to make deals with Fred and George than give them detention.

“What? But that could be dangerous for them!”

Theo turns his head, his eyes glinting a little. “And it wouldn’t be dangerous for you? What happened in that detention, Harry?”

“I told you. She made me write lines, and it was so boring I fell asleep.” Harry sighs and massages his forehead and ignores a worried hiss from Lion. Lion is smart enough to understand that the skull contains the brain, but not enough to realize that not every time Harry touches his forehead means a dream from Voldemort or brain damage. “And then Severus put me to sleep because he thought I didn’t get enough, apparently.”

“Everyone saw you almost falling sleep in class. Even Professor Flitwick wasn’t upset when he got it explained to him.”

“I’m still a day behind in classwork.”

“Admit it,” Theo says, leaning forwards a little. “What really bothers you is that you couldn’t be awake yesterday to defend someone who might need it from Umbridge, or practice your spells some more, or do anything that seems more valuable to you than rest.”

Harry twitches. “You’re uncomfortable to be around, you know that?”

“I know.” Theo smiles like he’s got the very best compliment of his life.

*

Dolores checks over her shoulder. She knows that she’s alone, the same way she knew she was alone in the Defense classroom this morning. Well, not alone. She had the fifth-year Slytherin and Gryffindor students with her (and Nott and Potter will wish they hadn’t missed the lesson, oh yes, despite what pitiful excuse their Head of House concocted for them).

But there had been the sensation of something sitting almost on her shoulder and staring at her. And now there’s the same sensation. But all she can see behind her on thew all are the yawning, stretching kittens on her plates. Dolores watches them for a moment, reassured. She’s always loved cats, their elegance and grace and sureness of their ability to hunt and kill.

A shadow stretches along the wall, muscled sleek body and long tail, and Dolores hurries into a bow. She remains there while the leopard stalks back and forth, feet, of course, soundless.

The boy’s blood tastes strange.

Dolores hesitates, but a snap of the tail tells her that her master does want a response. “I am unsure why it should, master. As far as I know, Potter is simply an extraordinarily lucky boy, that people overlooked all his past transgressions.”

How did he survive the Killing Curse?

“I don’t think anyone knows. The most prevalent theory I’ve heard is that his parents performed some sort of magic to save him. But there is no ritual or spell that can do that.” Dolores knows what she’s talking about. She spent years looking for one like that, because someday she’ll be important enough that someone might try to assassinate her with the Killing Curse, and it would be good to know how to defend against it.

If someone proud of his dirty blood like Potter can do it, then Dolores can. That is only fact.

There is something strange about him. I must know more. You must have him for another detention and gather his blood again.

Dolores takes a slow breath. That was something she didn’t want to do, if possible, because what she did the first time was hard enough, and Snape’s keeping the boy away from her class this morning says he might suspect something. But the creature rules her destiny and offers her power, and so she says simply, “I will do it.”

*

“See? There’s nothing to be found except that she had me write lines, and I dozed off.”

Severus stares at the stubborn child seated on the other side of the desk from him. It’s true that Harry let him use Legilimency without protest, and true that Severus found nothing but memories of a detention laced with boredom, at least after the part where Harry put Lion outside in the corridor.

Umbridge didn’t Obliviate Harry. Severus would recognize the signs of that. No matter how carefully the Memory Charm folds and tucks the corners of false memories together, a Legilimens as skilled as Severus can find them. And it’s easier when the Legilimens is as familiar with the mind of the possible Memory Charm victim as Severus is with Harry’s.

But something happened. Of that he is as sure as his breath.

“Why did you let me sleep all day?”

“I thought you needed it,” Severus says, at his blandest. He spent part of the night watching over Harry himself, but then returned to his bed, because he knew that Harry would require him to be sharp and ready in case something went wrong and they needed to battle Umbridge or another enemy. “You feel better now, don’t you?”

Harry scowls at him over the steam of his teacup. At least he let Severus place the Pepper-Up Potion into it without protest.

“Yes,” Harry finally admits, grudging with information that relates to his health, as always. “But I missed a day of class!”

“The other professors accepted my words, I assure you.”

“Even Umbridge?”

“She said nothing about it, only tittered. That is enough for me.”

“Theo said that you’re having Fred and George spy on Umbridge. Didn’t you ever think it could be dangerous for them?”

“Two seventh-year Gryffindors who know as much as they do about potions, spells, and protecting themselves, and have managed to pull off pranks on the professors,” Severus says. “Yes, of course, the situation is simply dripping with danger.”

Harry runs an agitated hand through his hair. “How can I make you—Severus. She’s dangerous. And you know that we aren’t ready to face the full power of the Ministry. I worry about something happening to Fred and George. I worry about something happening to you.”

“And I worry about what happened to you, but you do not seem to.” Severus leans a little forwards and watches Harry’s eyes for a moment, looking for any sign of a lie.

Harry only glares at him. “You’ve looked at my memory, and you know that she didn’t Memory Charm me. You know that I don’t have Occlumency good enough to fool you, either, and I can’t really lie to you. Why are you so worried about what she’ll do to me and not at all to them?”

“Because you are my ward, and they are not.”

Harry stares down at his teacup for a moment, turning it back and forth. Then he mutters, “I should go talk to the others. They’ll need some guidance as to what to do with Umbridge. How much they should defy her.”

“So you are planning a campaign of subtle undermining?” Severus lets the matter go for now. He has charms and mobile wards on Harry that should tell him when something happens to the boy, or even near enough that Harry might be caught in the backlash. For the moment, that will have to be enough.

Harry nods. “Umbridge has the Minister’s ear, and that means that we can’t do too much against her without Fudge finding out and getting upset. If they were willing to put me on trial this summer, they’ll keep trying. And I don’t want it to catch any of my friends.” Lion hisses something at him, and Harry touches his back with a gentle fingertip.

“And you?”

“I don’t want it to catch me, either.”

Severus would speak, but Harry has the look in his eye of a mule laying back his ears. He sighs. “Very well. But at least tell me that you will take as much care with your own safety as you will with the safety of those that follow you.”

Harry nods. “Theo won’t let me do anything else,” he mutters, not enough under his breath to escape Severus’s hearing. Then he looks up, and smiles slightly, and adds, “Neither will you.”

Severus doesn’t smile, but says, “No, I will not.”

Harry studies him in long, deep silence. Severus has no idea what is going through his head, only that Harry isn’t reacting with his usual impatience about the idea of his own safety.

Then Harry swallows and says, “It drives you mental when I’m in danger, doesn’t it?”

“You are only grasping this now?”

Severus wants to slap himself in the next instant, because he thinks that will drive Harry away when he is finally showing some regard for himself, but Harry only frowns as though he’s working out a complex puzzle in his head and says, “It drives you mental and it hurts you.”

Severus leans slowly back in his chair. Perhaps it is underhanded of him, but if he can keep Harry safe by playing up his own pain, then he will.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I do not know what I might need to do to keep you safe, and there are—enough dangers to you already, in the course of your ordinary life. An extra one—” He bites back the words he would have spoken then, because he doesn’t need to make Harry think his guardian is fragile and can’t protect him. That would only encourage Harry’s ridiculously powerful hero complex.

“All right. I think I understand now.”

Harry leans forwards, moving as slowly as though Severus is a polecat who might bite, and touches the back of his hand. Then he nods and says, “I’ll tell my study group not to antagonize her, and I won’t antagonize her, either.”

“Thank you,” Severus whispers. Until he understands more about what Umbridge did and how she managed to hide it from a Legilimens as skilled as he is, this is the best that he’s going to get.

Harry hesitates again, and then darts around the table, hugs him, and darts out the door before Severus can react.

Perhaps that’s for the best. Severus is not sure that his reaction would not embarrass one or both of them.

*

“Mr. Potter! We need to discuss your detention.”

Harry turns around. He feels some comfort from knowing that he’s in the middle of a corridor with Hermione on one side of him and Ron on the other, and Theo and Blaise and Daphne only a little way ahead of them. From the sound of hurried footsteps, they’re coming back as quickly as they can.

But only some comfort. From the smile that stretches Umbridge’s lips, he doesn’t think the public setting will hold her back much.

“What detention, Professor Umbridge?” Harry keeps his voice as flat and uninterested as possible, watching from the corner of his eye as Theo comes back around the corner and stops, staring at Umbridge. “I served the one you gave me.”

“Your detention for missing my class yesterday,” Umbridge coos. “You didn’t think you would get away with letting your Head of House make excuses for you, did you?”

“Then I should have a detention as well, Professor.” Theo steps up beside Harry. “Since both of us missed your class.”

Umbridge clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “You are not disseminating lies like the Potter boy is, Mr. Nott—”

“Voldemort has returned.”

The spreading ripples of silence around them make Harry aware of the students who have stopped to watch them. He grimaces. He doesn’t think a bigger audience will make Umbridge any more inclined to back down, unfortunately.

Umbridge is staring at Theo with a bewildered expression. Harry wonders, in what at least feels like a sudden flash of insight, how many friends she’s had, for her to have so little experience of friendship.

“You don’t really believe that, Mr. Nott,” she says, a second later, with a laugh that’s too uneasy to come across as cute, the way she probably meant it to. “You’re only saying it to support Mr. Potter.”

“Voldemort is back, and he’s taking advantage of the Ministry’s refusal to acknowledge him to extend his reach.” Theo smiles at her, and Harry decides it isn’t his imagination that Theo’s canine teeth are a little more curved than they used to be. “Refusals like the one put forwards by Minister Fudge.”

“Little boy, you tread dangerous ground—”

“And your estimable self, of course. Tell me, are you afraid of Voldemort? Or are you just too unimaginative to come up with something outside the Ministry party line?”

“Detention!” Umbridge screams. “For the both of you! Seven-o’clock, tonight!” She turns around and storms away.

Harry shakes his head at Theo. “Why did you do that?” he mutters, and wonders if some of that is down to Theo’s Animagus training, too. Not that “impulsive” is a stereotype Harry really associates with leopards.

“You know very well why I did it, Harry,” Theo says in a breezy fashion, and turns to continue down the corridor in front of him.

Harry rolls his eye. Hermione takes the chance to step up close to him. “Was that the wisest strategy, Harry?” she murmurs.

“That isn’t a strategy Theo and I worked out. That was Theo being Theo.”

Hermione blinks, and watches Theo’s back for a second before her mouth sets in a firm line and she follows him. Harry wonders what she’s thinking, and if someone other than him is going to catch the sharp side of her tongue for being reckless. That might be fun to watch.

“What did happen in that detention?” Ron asks under his breath, and Harry shakes his head, his wonder fading again. He wishes people would stop asking questions about that. If Severus didn’t find anything in his mind that Umbridge did to him during the detention, that’s because there was nothing to find.

“I fell asleep. I wrote lines. That was it.”

“Wow, you’ll have to teach me how to write lines in my sleep. Think of all the essays I could get done.”

Harry snorts and pushes Ron on the shoulder, and they continue on towards their usual meeting classroom. A quick rush of footsteps does go past them in the opposite direction at one point, and Harry turns his head. Ron, still expounding on the many advantages of writing an essay while actually asleep, doesn’t seem to notice.

Draco is staring at them from an alcove that contains a short staircase joining with the main one up to the seventh floor. The moment he meets Harry’s eyes, he turns and ducks away, down towards the dungeons.

Harry sighs and turns back to listen to Ron again. He can’t force Draco to come back, or accept Harry’s apologies about the death of his father and survival anyway, or do anything, really.

But he’s pretty sure the expression in Draco’s eyes was longing, and that is hard for Harry to watch.