The murmuring voices continued, but he was too tired to follow them much. ". . . be a problem?" his father asked. His voice rumbled in his chest, and Harry could feel it against his cheek.
"Not at all. . . . very discreet."
". . . won't let . . . interference."
". . . understand . . . take him . . . Hogwarts?"
"End of the week. . . . clothes and . . . used to magic."
Harry squirmed in his father's arms, feeling suddenly alarmed, but too lethargic to rouse more than that. He gentle hand returned and smoothed over his forehead, and his father's voice murmured his name, and he relaxed again.
". . . anxious, you see? . . . relatives told him . . ."
". . . over it, I daresay. . . "
The voices went on, but Harry had succumbed completely to sleep, feeling truly safe for the first time in what felt like forever.
---
Some time later, Albus rose to leave, and Severus got up with him, the boy still in his arms.
"He looks comfortable," said the Headmaster, with a fond look at the boy.
Severus rearranged the boy on his hip -- and how had he realized immediately that it would be easier to carry him thus? -- and cupped the back of the boy's head with his hand as the boy nestled his head in where Severus' neck met his shoulder. Harry's warm breaths whispered against his skin. "I'll have to wake him soon, or he'll be up all night."
Albus looked doubtful. "From all appearances, he could use a great deal more rest than he's recently acquired."
Severus frowned down at the thin body as his fingers combed through the soft, raven-black hair. It was long enough in the back to cover the neck, and would require a tie soon. Had James had long hair? No. Just that mussed, untamed mop. This hair was more like his own. Would the blood ritual work that fast? "He didn't sleep well last night, I don't think." Neither of them had.
"Did you have him under monitor?"
"No. Not last night."
"Give it a try tonight, then," Albus suggested. "It may be that the unfamiliarity of a new room makes him too nervous to relax well."
Severus nodded and Albus left a few minutes later. Madam Collin had gone hours ago, to file the adoption papers. He really hoped she would not make an issue of the marks she'd seen on Harry's body, or his odd behavior at dinner when he seemed to think he would not be fed. Dumbledore was certain she would not, but Severus was not as trusting as his mentor.
Regardless, it was done. No one could take the boy from him now.
He carried the boy upstairs, removed his shoes, socks, robe and tie, leaving him in trousers and shirt, then covered him with a light quilt, planning to wake him in an hour or two for some supper. Then perhaps he would show Harry the rest of the house, and they could relax a while before bedtime. In the meantime, he could work in his study on some lesson plans he'd been considering for his upper level classes.
Harry had other ideas, apparently, and woke twenty minutes later, screaming.
TBC . . .
----
A/N: Lookee! More than 200 reviews! I'm really grateful to everyone who reads and reviews. Here's some chocolate! Next chapter by Wednesday.
*Chapter 12*: Chapter 12
Whelp – Chapter 12
By jharad17
A/N at end
Disclaimer: Not mine, never was mine, never will be mine, alas.
-----
Harry had other ideas, apparently, and woke twenty minutes later, screaming.
The scream cut off before Severus was half out of his chair. He bolted upstairs, almost frantic now. Surely the boy was dead, or maimed or . . . He hurtled through the door to the boy's bedroom and stopped dead. The boy's mouth was open in a scream, his body rigid, eyes screwed shut, and fists tight against his sides, but Severus could hear nothing. Absolute silence.
Someone had put up a Silencing spell. . . . the boy?
Pushing such thoughts away to consider later, Severus banished the spell, then immediately winced as the raw sound of his son's agony swept over him in a wave. He rushed to the bed and tried to gather Harry in his arms. But the boy fought back, much harder than he had when Severus had picked him up downstairs, this time with fists and nails and teeth.
"Shh, Harry," he soothed, but the boy would have none of it, flailing and kicking as if his life depended on him getting free. "Harry, stop now, you're safe. Come on, Harry, shush now. Harry!"
At the sharp word, the boy's eyes snapped open and met his. In an instant, Harry sagged against him like a puppet whose strings were cut, reduced to soft whimpers and hiccups. Tears pooled in the brilliant green of his eyes, but did not fall. He boy rubbed them away viciously with his fist.
"What happened, Harry?" Severus asked as he settled the boy more into his lap. "Did you have a nightmare?"
The boy shook his head quickly but whispered, "Sorry. M'sorry, sir."
Frowning, Severus considered the boy's expression. Harry looked afraid, as if he expected a beating. Slowly he said, "It's all right if you did have a nightmare, child. I won't hurt you. I'm here to help."
Harry stared up at him, then looked away, shaking his head again. Severus suppressed a sigh. "If it wasn't a nightmare, what happened? Did something hurt you?"
Hesitating again, Harry nodded. "All in my bones, sir. Everything."
Peering closely at the child, Severus tried to figure out what might have hurt him. He knew the blood ritual was bound to make some changes in how the boy looked, on a cellular level, but the change was supposed to happen over time, not all at once. And it wasn't supposed to be painful. He could detect no differences, however. Harry's nose was still small, like Lily's, and his thin eyebrows arched over his expressive eyes. He had high cheekbones, in a narrow face that needed to fill out more, and would, with a decent diet. His hair, dark and fine, bore more resemblance to Severus' own that it had to that of either James or Lily. So what had changed?
"Does it still hurt, Harry?" he asked at last.
"No, sir."
"Are you sure?" He knew the boy was unlikely to tell him the truth about this matter. He was stoic beyond reason, really.
"Yes, sir."
With an audible sigh this time, Severus helped the boy back onto the bed, then angled himself so that they sat side by side, but could still see the boy's face. But Harry stared at his hands. "You remember, I told you that you don't need to call me sir, don't you?"
"Yes, si . . . yes, Father."
"And how I said I'd rather you looked at me when we're speaking?"
"Yes, Father." Wide, frightened eyes met his, blinking rapidly.
"Good. Now, I want you to tell me how you made yourself very quiet, so I couldn't hear you when you were being hurt."
"Father, please, I . . . I didn't do anything!"
He tried to scrabble backwards on the bed, but Severus held him firm with an arm around his thin back. The boy fought him, though, and Severus kept his voice as calm and soothing as he could. "Harry, it's all right. I'm not angry. I just want to know how you did it."
"I didn't! Please, sir, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear! Please—"
Oh, Merlin. What had those monsters done to this child, to make him fear his magic so? "It's all right, Harry," he said again. "I'm not angry. You're not going to be punished."
He boy gulped a breath, then hiccupped. Severus patted his back lightly. "I'm not?" His voice was very small. "Really?"
"Really. Now, tell me how you created the silence around yourself."
Though he hunched his shoulders, the boy seemed to relax a fraction. "I . . . I dunno how, sir. 'Cept that I'm a freak."
"Harry," Severus said, letting a bit of disappointment seep into his tone. "I asked you not to use that word."