Chapter 66 - Synesthesia
Draco had joined the study group in Gryffindor Tower, and despite the strange fog in his brain, Harry had to smile as he entered the room. He doubted he'd ever get used to the sight of the elegant, blond Slytherin amongst all that red. Neville was still nervous around the boy, but Dean and Seamus didn't seem to mind his presence. Lavender and Parvati liked having yet another boy to flirt with - though their attentions were lost on Draco. Around the Gryffindors, he didn't do much to hide the fact that he was utterly smitten by Charlie.
They all greeted Harry as he entered. Despite the fact that the sixth-years had claimed the common room for their study session, there were dozens of other students crowded into the room. Harry could feel all their eyes upon him as he joined his friends near the fire. He resolved to ignore them, and he gratefully sank down onto the couch between Neville and Dean. There were dozens of books spread out on the coffee table along with parchments and quills. Most of the heaviest books were in front of Hermione. Despite this, there seemed to be very little actual studying going on.
The newspapers were still making the rounds, and the topic of discussion seemed to be the events in the Ministry. Despite the lock down, word had spread about what was going on. Afternoon special additions of the paper had been filled with bits and pieces of news along with wild speculations. Photos of armed Muggle soldiers in the streets around the hidden Ministry building had caused all sorts of reactions. And everyone was second guessing what Lucius Malfoy might be up to.
When Severus and the others had told him that it was possible that Lucius Malfoy might be seeking a future alliance with him, Harry hadn't know what to think. Was he just supposed to forgive the man? After what he had done to Remus, he wasn't certain that was possible - he'd tried to have Remus euthanized. He knew he should be focusing on the bigger picture - but right now it was difficult to focus on anything.
"I just don't see how it's legal?" Hermione was complaining, directing most of her words toward Draco.
Draco just shrugged. "He's been talking about a return to the old ways all my life, but I never thought it would actually happen?"
"Can he do that?" Hermione asked. "Just take seats by dueling?" She looked at Harry for an answer.
Harry tried to remember what Dumbledore and the others had explained to him that morning. The haze in his mind wasn't making things easy, but he did his best to force his way past it and organize his thoughts. "Apparently without a Minister in power, the Ministry reverts to some older form of government where such things are legal."
"But that's. . .," she shook her head and glared at Draco. "A return to the old ways?"
"Before Muggles began influencing our society so much," he clarified, and they all heard vague traces of the old prejudices in his voice. No doubt he'd been raised listening to such talk. "All the top leadership positions in our society were held by Right of Magic until Muggles began influencing our world. Someone got the idea of holding elections - and before we knew it our government was being run by bureaucrats instead of warriors."
"It's called a democracy," Hermione informed him.
He just shrugged his shoulders. "Democracy and elections are what gave us a Minister like Fudge."
"And you think we'll be better off with your father?" she scoffed.
"I didn't say that," Draco protested. "But some times things fall apart - and the only way to fix them is to go back to the beginning."
"So Lucius Malfoy is just going to snap up as many seats as he can?" Hermione asked. She looked rather horrified by the idea.
"There must be some limitation?" Dean protested. "What happens if he takes all the seats? Does he just become the default Minister or something?"
"He can't," Draco replied. "There must be at least twelve members of the Wizengamot in session at any given time for it to be legal. It used to be made up of twelve inner council member, lead by the thirteenth member called the Chief Warlock - all spots earned by Right of Magic. The outer council was made up of twenty to a hundred lesser members which were either elected or appointed."
"Twelve inner circle members and a Chief Warlock?" Hermione frowned. "That sounds like the same structure as Voldemort's Inner Circle."
Harry noticed passively that everyone in the room cringed at Hermione's words, and it took him a moment to realize they were reacting to the name Voldemort. He had the sudden urge to start giggling, and barely managed to suppress the impulse. The fog in his head thickened.
"There was a time when that was the message You Know Who stood for," Draco began, only to be stopped when a dozen mistrustful glares were turned toward him. He glared back at all of them just as fiercely. "Don't look at me like that!" he protested. "It's in the history books! I think we can all agree that he's a bloody mad man now, but there was a time when all he did was preach a political message about a return to the old ways. People all over the world were upset about the constant encroachment of Muggle society into ours. That's why people were so willing to join him."
"People like your Aunt Bellatrix?" Neville asked angrily, showing some of his Gryffindor backbone for the first time in a long while. A number of Gryffindors in the room began grumbling in agreement - several seventh year students had moved closer to the group and were eying Draco mistrustfully now.
Draco's blue eyes hardened to stormy gray. "I'm not responsible for my Aunt's behavior."
Neville set his jaw stubbornly. "Sounds to me like you're happy about this return to the old ways."
"Back off!" Ron suddenly growled, and Harry saw Draco flinch at the sound. But one look at Ron showed that he was glaring at Neville, directing his words toward the Gryffindors. The look of surprise on Draco's face was almost enough to make Harry start giggling again. "He's one of us, remember?" Ron informed Neville and the others. "He stood beside us and defended Harry."
Ron's words seemed to strike home, for the glares vanished, and Harry found himself blinking in surprise. That's right, he told himself, Draco had been there yesterday, hadn't he? He couldn't help but think he ought to say something himself, but Ron appeared to have things well in hand - even the seventh years backed down at his words. Harry smiled faintly - he was too tired to think clearly anyway.
Hermione however huffed in exasperation. "Can we get back to the conversation at hand and leave the testosterone in the Quidditch locker room?" she demanded.
"Oye!" Katie Bell called out from where she was sitting with some of the other seventh year girls. "There are girls on the Quidditch team too!" Her comment prompted a lot of good natured teasing from the other students.
Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I just want to know what happens if Lucius Malfoy tries to take all the seats on the Wizengamot?"
"He's not likely to be able to take all the seats," Harry told her, remembering something else Dumbledore had told him. "There's a Vampire Lord who's already taken one of the seats and I doubt Malfoy will want to duel against him. Also another werewolf has claimed a seat in Remus' name. And my sister-in-law, Diana, claimed a seat as well. If Malfoy challenged her, he'd have an army of Vikings hunting his blood." Actually, now that he thought about it, that might be rather entertaining to watch.
"Remus?" Hermione's eyes widened at the thought. "He holds a seat?"
"Wasn't his idea," Harry admitted. "But apparently that's legal as well."
"But werewolves don't have full citizenship rights," Hermione pointed out - which Harry thought was a rather odd thing for her to say. She was usually the most vocal about the unfairness of such things.
"Well, technically Remus isn't a werewolf any more," Harry reminded her. "And besides - the whole Right of Magic thing makes that issue rather moot at the moment."
The oddest look crossed Hermione's face. "So you're saying that anyone can take a seat on the Wizengamot just by dueling for it?"
Draco apparently heard more in her statement than the rest of them did for he stared at her in shock. "Don't even think about it!" he exclaimed. "They'd eat you alive!"
But Hermione just shrugged. "How hard could it be? You said it yourself - they're just a bunch of bureaucrats. I'm more than capable."
Harry knew his mind was running a bit slow that day, but it sounded to him like Hermione was suggesting that she duel. Many of the other Gryffindor students were staring at her with something akin to awe. Draco on the other hand looked horrified. "The weakest of them will be weeded out by nightfall. You've never been in a duel before and they'll be dueling with both wand and sword! You have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into. I don't care how smart you are - you're only sixteen years old. And you know nothing about sword fighting."
"So teach me!" she insisted.
"It's not something you can learn in a week!" he protested.
"He's right, Hermione," Harry added, his brain starting to catch up with the conversation. "Severus has been teaching me the sword for months now, and I'm still only a novice." A sharp spike of emotion struck his heart at the thought of Severus, and he frowned, wondering at the source. But the fog swirled back in and swallowed it before he could probe too deeply, leaving only a pleasant calmness behind.
"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, apparently getting over his shock enough to finally protested. "You can't honestly be interested in dueling - or in taking a seat on the Wizengamot?" Harry had to admit he was a bit at a loss for words as well.
"I'm serious," she stated. "If they want to revert back to the old ways - fine. But they're going to have to face some rather painful facts. Blood doesn't mean anything. Apparently the Vampires and Werewolves have already brought this point home - the Wizengamot won't be simply populated by purebloods. They're going to have to face the fact that there are mudbloods who are just as strong as they are. It's been four hundred years since the Vampires and Werewolves have had any say in our government. But it's been even worse for those who are Muggle born."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked.
"I did some research," she explained. "Do you know what a Muggleborn has to do in order to get a single vote in our elections? They have to earn two points in a test called Magical Acknowledgment. They can acquire the first point by passing a series of objective tests - they're given ten very powerful spells to cast. If they cast them all successfully, they get one point. The second point comes from a two-thirds vote from the Wizengamot. In the last one hundred years, 329 Muggleborns have attempted to earn a vote. Guess how many actually succeeded in getting a vote?"
Ron and the others shook their heads, having no idea.
"Nine," Hermione told him. "Nine Muggleborns have gotten the vote out of 329 who applied." She glared at Draco who was about to make a comment. "And before you say anything, 298 of them successfully earned the first point. It was the two thirds vote from the Wizengamot they couldn't get. The nine who did receive their vote, only got them because Dumbledore openly advocated for them. If there is a chance I can change that, then I'm going to."
"You won't change anything," Draco informed her. "You'll end up dead."
"I didn't say I was going to run out today and challenge someone," Hermione stated. "But I'm not just going to ignore the opportunity. If I have to learn how to duel, then that's what I'll do."
"Surely things won't stay like this?" Lavender protested, speaking up for the first time. "I mean things will go back to normal soon, right?" They all looked at her, but no one answered.
"Why doesn't Harry just fix everything?" Dean cut in, looking somewhat exasperated by the rather political turn in the conversation. "I mean you can just. . . you know..." he waved his hand vaguely.
Harry frowned. "Arbitrarily start dictating laws and changing a form of government that has been in place since the time of Merlin?" he suggested.
Dean grinned. "Exactly."
"While I'm at it, why don't I also outlaw homework," Harry suggested. There were numerous cheers at that suggestions from all the other students eavesdropping on their conversation. Harry just groaned at the response.
"So I guess this means you're not up for our idea of writing 'this essay was officially approved by Harry Potter' at the top of all our papers, huh?" Seamus asked. "Just think of the look on McGonagall's face?"
Harry just smiled. That was the thing about Gryffindors. The more things changed - the more they stayed exactly the same.
Harry looked exhausted by the time he returned to their quarters that evening. Severus had watched him closely at dinner. The Gryffindors all looked riled up about something, caught up in a heated debate about the current political situation at the Ministry. But Harry was largely silent through most of it, merely listening and watching the others talk.
The boy opted to turn in early that evening, heading to their bedroom immediately after dinner. Normally Severus never entered the room while Harry was preparing for bed - he usually waited until he was certain the boy was asleep, granting him at least the illusion of privacy before following him to bed. But this night he only waited until Harry had left the bathroom, dressed once again in his preferred Muggle pajamas. The boy was still putting his clothing away and arranging his book bag with tomorrow's books when Severus gathered up his own night clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.
He went through his nightly ablutions as quickly as possible, deliberately only wearing his pajama bottoms and forgoing his nightshirt. It was the way he preferred to sleep - but over the last eight months he'd intentionally worn a nightshirt to bed in an effort to make Harry more comfortable with his presence. Despite the scars marring his body, tonight Severus wanted Harry to see his bare chest - and more importantly, the Heartstone that hung around his neck.
He stared hard at himself in the bathroom mirror, a well of nervousness bubbling inside of him. Such an ugly face, he thought to himself, even if Harry did like his hair. For the first time in his life he found himself wish he looked more like his younger brother Julius. He had very little to commend himself to a young man like Harry. His past lovers had been attracted to his power or to his intelligence. But Harry had never appeared to place much value on intelligence - and as for power, well, he could hardly lay claim to that any more. Harry had all the power he needed - and Severus - it seemed what powers he did have belonged to the Dark Lord. Which left him with what? A nasty temper, a sarcastic wit that very few people appreciated, and an excessive knowledge of potions - which was certain to rank high with the Quidditch-obsessed Gryffindors.
He knew his body was well formed at least. That was something he supposed - though the scars littering his skin were far from pleasant to look at, not to mention the fact that they practically screamed his Slytherin heritage. Gryffindors liked a good fight as much as the next person, but they didn't collect trophies of the blood-sports they participated in the way Slytherins did. The scars could hardly be a point in his favor.
His gaze moved to the Heartstone lying against his bare chest. He found it ironic that he could face down elder demons and death eaters without even hesitating, but this action he was about to take had him panicking. He'd been wearing the Heartstone for months, hidden from sight. The idea of admitting to that left him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. It said far too much about how he felt, and it was a ridiculously sentimental thing to do. He could think of a dozen different people who would laugh themselves sick at the idea of Severus Snape doing something so utterly sappy. Severus felt his skin burn with embarrassment, and he raised his hand to grab the stone, impulse telling him to remove it before risking humiliation.
But the memory of the look in Harry's eyes earlier that day stilled his hand. It didn't matter what Harry thought of him; it didn't matter if he was mocked or teased for such sentimentality or even if Harry would go running to Black and Lupin or the rest of Gryffindor House to tell them of the bizarre behavior of the Head of Slytherin. What mattered was finding some way of easing the hurt he'd seen in Harry's eyes that afternoon when he'd believed he had tossed this gift aside like garbage. Somehow in Harry's mind this incident had become inexplicably linked to the childhood memory of what his Aunt had done to him, and breaking that link had to be worth any degree of embarrassment Severus might feel. He'd come to the conclusion that afternoon that he was lousy at relationships - but if there was any way he could fix this one small hurt, he would do so.
Harry was sitting up in bed when he entered, holding an unopened vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught in his hands as if he were about to take it. He looked up as Severus approached, and his gaze zeroed in immediately on the Heartstone lying against Severus' bare chest. Those green eyes widened in shock at the sight and he turned his head swiftly to look at the open drawer of his nightstand from where he'd just removed the potion.
"You found it for me?" Severus asked, already knowing the answer. Harry just stared at him, looking confused. "The chain must have broken last night when I tore off my clothes." That one statement admitted so much.
He saw those words sink in as he climbed into bed beside Harry, and he knew he'd guessed correctly. His heart twisted in his chest at the sight of the emotion in those green eyes.
"Last night?" Harry repeated, the hurt in his eyes warring with the realization of what Severus was trying to say to him. "You've been wearing it? All this time?"
Severus raised a hand to touch the stone, feeling the magic pulse beneath his fingers. "Yes," he said simply.
A faint flush stole over Harry's features, a smile slowly curling his lips upward. He did not say anything, but instead bowed his head and stared down at his hands still holding the potion vial. He blinked rapidly as if fighting back emotion. Severus felt something in his heart ease, and he let out a slow sigh. Maybe he hadn't screwed things up as badly as he'd feared.
His gaze moved over Harry's features, taking in the flush of his skin, and the graceful line of his neck as he sat there with his head bowed, a smile on his lips. He resisted the impulse to reach out and touched his head, wanting to stroke his hair. After last night, he wasn't certain how any advance would be taken - Harry had been quick enough to hug him that morning, but to Severus' mind Harry's reactions had been slightly off all day.
He glanced down at the potion vial in Harry's hands, wondering if perhaps he should take a dose himself this night. It might help curb the desire rising in him at Harry's proximity.
And then he noticed that both of Harry's hands were trembling. Severus frowned. It was very faint - like shivers caused from the cold despite the fact that it was warm enough in the room. It almost reminded him of the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.
"Are you all right, Harry?" he asked in concern.
Harry was still smiling as he nodded. "Yes, I'm green, Severus," he assured him.
It took a moment for his words to register in Severus' mind.
Green? Severus' heart skipped a beat.
"Did you just say you were green?"
"Well, the air is," Harry clarified, looking remarkably content by the observation. "Except for your voice. Your voice is gold. I really like your voice, Severus. Did I ever tell you that? And it's okay that it's a Gryffindor color, because Sirius' voice is blue - so it all balances out in the end."
Alarm washed over Severus - he could tell that Harry found nothing odd about what he was saying. "You're hearing colors, Harry?" he asked uncertainly. It wasn't unusual for people who had suffered the Cruciatus Curse to develop tremors and strange sensory glitches - but as far as he knew Harry had not been hexed recently.
Harry looked up at him, seeming to think about his question for a moment. He frowned thoughtfully, and then hummed to himself as if musing about the answer. But rather than respond, he lay back, placing his head on his pillow and then stared curiously at the potion vial he was still holding in his hands. He looked distracted.
Heart pounding, Severus reached out and caught hold of Harry's chin, turning his face gently toward him. "Harry, look at me," he urged, frightened now. Those too-calm green eyes looked up, meeting his gaze, and Severus did something he had promised himself he would not do. He pushed his thoughts into Harry's mind.
He kept his mental touch as light and as gentle as he could, but even just brushing against Harry's surface thoughts, he knew something was wrong. Despite the outward calm, he encountered only chaos. Harry's thoughts were a mad jumble of images, swirling erratically around in his mind. At the forefront of that storm of images, there were only thoughts of the here and now - brief moments that occasionally righted themselves and smoothed out before returning to chaos. And beyond that where his mind kept his memories and the more cognitive functions, he found a thick haze muting everything - denying him full access to the very thoughts that should have kept Harry on edge all day.
No wonder he had been so calm all day - it was like he'd been walking around in a fog, unable to really think about anything. But what in Merlin's name had caused such chaos - Severus probed a bit deeper, seeking the source of the fog.
And then there, deep inside the young man's mind, Severus encountered a blackness - something dark, and horrible, and filled with sharp edges like broken glass cutting at the smooth order of Harry's psyche. It was cold and endless, and pulled at Severus' soul like it wished to devour him. Horrified, Severus fled, pulling his thoughts back and letting the fog rush in again to cloud Harry's mind.
Closing his own eyes, Severus shuddered in fear - he knew what that blackness was. There was only one thing it could be. He realized now that the fog was a defensive mechanism - a way for Harry's mind to protect itself from that blackness sitting there in the center. They'd all seen Harry face down the Elder Demon yesterday, had seen him look it straight in the eyes, and they'd all blithely ignored the fact that no one could do such a thing without consequences. Harry had been injured yesterday - as surely as if he'd been ripped wide open, and they'd all ignored the fact because somehow he'd managed to go on functioning anyway. He'd looked into the eyes of an Elder Demon, and it had looked back at him, had attacked his mind since it could not reach his body.
"Severus," Harry's voice caught his attention, and Severus opened his eyes swiftly. Harry was staring at his chest, a curious smile on his face. "Did you know that you're wearing my Heartstone?"
Severus shivered. "Yes, Harry," he said softly. "I know." He reached out and took the potion vial out of Harry's hands. Removing the stopper, he slid a hand beneath Harry's head, tilting his head up. "Drink your potion, Harry," he urged, placing the vial against the boy's lips.
Harry drank without protest, then settled back down on the pillow. He reached out and placed the palm of his hand against Severus chest - for a moment he thought he was going to push him away. But instead, Harry merely traced his fingers over one of the numerous scars marring Severus' skin. A frisson of pleasure moved through Severus at the sensation, and his heart ached with emotion.
"It's much nicer here than the cupboard," Harry told him unexpectedly. "Did I ever tell you that?"
"No, Harry," Severus replied around the tightness in his throat. All day the boy's reactions had been off - how could he not have seen it? He'd been bleeding out in front of them, and they had not noticed. He could only pray the damage was not irreversible.
"I don't tell you a lot of things," Harry sighed thoughtfully, though his eyelids were beginning to droop as the potion took hold of him. "That seems silly. I like it when you listen to me."
Severus stroked Harry's hair back from his forehead, uncovering the lightning bolt scar. For once it was not inflamed - this wound had little to do with his connection to Voldemort. The boy sighed, leaning into his caress.
"Severus," he murmured again, nearly asleep.
"Yes, Harry?"
"You're warm," he said simply, his eyes closing. "I like that too."
His heart hurting, Severus chose to take that final statement as an invitation. He laid down, moving closer to Harry and wrapped his arms around his body. Closing his eyes, he followed Harry into a restless sleep, his own thoughts haunted by the realization that there were some things he could not protect the boy from.