Ars Magica -- Fiat Lux, Part III
Apr. 18th, 2005 12:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cthulhuchanDisclaimed in Part I
Harry woke alone, semen stained and panting. The Light within him burned with a steady flame, casting small, dark shadows upon his heart. The odd, pale flickers that had overlaid it were gone, along with the pale, soft shadows that had accompanied them. The power that had been inexorably rising had crested, leaving a strong, heavy flow of magic that was within the bounds of what he could control. The relief was sweeter than orgasm, just knowing that he would not break under the pressure.
Moonlight cascaded from the waxing moon, and he drank in the radiance of it, listening to it whisper of starlight and shadow-dreams. Yielding to the soft songs of the sweet, silver light, Harry fell back to sleep cradled in the power of his mate's domain.
~0~
"Harry, you bastard, what the fuck have you done!" Blaise Zabini's brown eyes blazed with anger. "Snape's taken to his quarters and refuses to come out."
Harry jerked away from Blaise's angry grip and glared at his friend and ally. "I did what I had to do, Zabini. Just drop it!"
"No. He's my Head of House and he won't speak to any of us."
"That's not my fault!" Except that it was, and Harry knew it, but for now there was nothing to be done. Snape had awoken three days before to discover that not only was he married to Harry Potter, he'd been bound to him without so much as a by-your-leave. Harry knew that Dumbledore had tried to explain the circumstances behind the actions to him, but Snape was having none of it.
Not that Harry really blamed him. He could see vague memories wiggling behind Snape's eyes, and knew that the man was less than pleased with the fleeting recollections left to him.
Plus, the Ministry had insisted on putting the NEWTs back onto their schedule. Most of the younger students had been excused from testing, but the Fifth and Seventh Years had been thrown all into a frenzy of preparation, -- teachers and students alike. The only positive outcome of it was that Harry could sleep now, exhaustion filling his empty bed.
"Damn it, Harry --"
"I did what I had to do."
"What did you have to do?"
"I fucking raped him, okay?" Once the words left Harry's mouth, he collapsed in the corridor. He had no other word for it, but hadn't admitted it aloud. "For all intents and purposes, I raped him."
Blaise got quiet.
"You assaulted my Head of House. Sexually."
"I saved his life. And yours."
"You raped my Head of House." Zabini stared at him, unblinking.
"I did what I had to do, Zabini."
"Fucking --"
"Did you think I was lying when I told you and the others that I would do whatever I had to in order to keep you all safe from the Ministry?"
"You --"
"Did you think I was lying?"
"No, but --"
"I did what was necessary. Not what I wanted to do." Even now, over a week later, he could feel Snape inside of him. The memory of the pleasure of it shamed Harry, who avoided any contact with those who were there.
"I'll never forgive you for this, you know." Blaise's eyes held a hatred that had gone missing long ago. He turned away, a precise, graceful pivot that gave his robes a menacing swirl à la Snape. Blaise's furious footfalls echoed in an angry tattoo against the walls and Harry watched him go, feeling cold to the center of his soul.
"It's okay, Blaise. I can't forgive me, either."
Harry had only seen Snape once since the man had awakened, and the venom in those dead-black eyes had been more than enough to unman him. He couldn't apologize for what he had done -- even now the public was screaming for Death Eater blood and every day the Prophet reported the random murders of people even remotely suspected of having Death Eater sympathies. Malfoy Manor had been looted and burned to the ground, causing a spectacle that required dozens of Ministry Obliviators to fix the mess before it hit the Muggle press.
Hermione had her hands full as Head Girl and coordinating the Defense League to patrol the halls. Students had begun attacking students they had fought alongside, tensions and prejudices setting ruddy rivulets flowing down the ancient corridors. No one had died because Hermione put her dainty pointed boots firmly upon the necks of the offenders, but it had been a near-run thing.
It made him want to laugh.
No one, it seemed, wanted to offend the Lady Granger. Then again, she had been the one to restore the key-point of the castle wards and, as far as Harry knew, Dumbledore had been unable to get them back from her. Every time the subject was brought up, Hermione's lips would quirk up flashing a razor's edge... and Dumbledore would back down. When it came down to it, Hermione controlled the castle and there wasn't much that Dumbledore (or the Board of Governors) could do about it.
It was funny, Harry thought as he managed to lever himself up from the cold stone floors, how his own notoriety had faded in the face of Hermione's. Nearly all of the younger students called her The Lady, with capitals clearly enunciated, and they clearly feared (or revered) her far more than they did the Boy-Who-Lived. Then again, it had been Hermione's voice that struck down the Dark Queen of Gryffindor and Hermione's blood and will that brought the Great Ward back up. Harry might have killed Voldemort and gone head-to-head with the likes of Lucius Malfoy, but it was Hermione who had saved the school.
"There you are, my boy. Miss Granger thought you might be in some difficulty." The Headmaster's remaining blue eye twinkled in a mad counterpoint to the wild spinning of his artificial one. "Are you well?"
"Well enough." Harry did not want to discuss his argument with Zabini. He cast about for a more neutral subject. "Have they finally sent the examiners for the OWLs and NEWTs?"
"Indeed they have, dear boy." Dumbledore smiled benignly. "I expect that you'll do well."
Harry stared at him, somehow appalled to be discussing something quite so mundane. "Right. I suppose I should go study."
"He'll come around, you know."
Harry didn't pretend he did not know whom the Headmaster was talking about. "It doesn't matter. We didn't give him much of a choice, after all."
"Harry..." Dumbledore hesitated, suddenly looking old. "I have no wish to break a confidence, but I have known for quite some time that Severus did not hate you. Nor do I believe that he does now. It was all a bit disconcerting for him."
"A bit disconcerting?" Harry stared at him. "Professor Snape finds his freedom precious and I took it away from him. He was used and abused by Tom Marvolo Riddle in ways that sicken me, and I did the same thing."
"You have done what was necessary, Harry. Your actions are commendable."
"My actions have been despicable, Headmaster. And I will continue them for the welfare of those I hold dear." Harry stared at nothing. "What does that make me?"
"It makes you a Gryffindor, Harry." Dumbledore held his hand out and Harry took it, wary. "One of the gross misrepresentations of your House, Harry, is that you are all stupidly brave, leaping before you look. That you act without understanding -- and thus lacking fear of -- the consequences.
"This is a profoundly unfair characterization. The house of the Lion is filled with courage -- a thing quite distinct from bravery -- and courage defines your actions. Courage makes you stand and fight the good fight, wherever you may find it; to fight in the face of impossible odds and incontrovertible controversy."
"Doing the wrong things for the right reasons?" Harry shook his head. "I --"
"--are Magus Lucis Noctusque." Dumbledore sighed. "Being cruel to be kind is part of your makeup, Harry. It had to be for the ritual to work at all."
"A good prince must only avoid hatred," Harry muttered to himself, thinking of a Muggle book he had found in Dudley's room. "Better to be feared than loved, better still to be feared and loved, but if one must be lacking, love is the one that has to go." He stared at Dumbledore. "You are feared and loved, why didn't you..."
Dumbledore looked away as Harry's voice trailed off. "The adulation of the world I could handle, Harry. Defeating a Dark Lord? Bah! Child's play! But ruling it afterward? My courage failed. I am loved by many, Harry, and I could not imagine those kind eyes turning to me with indifference, if not hatred."
"You were in Slytherin, weren't you?"
The old man nodded. "Very good, Harry. People have viewed me for years as being the greatest wizard of my generation, and, perhaps, of the last five hundred years. What a letdown it would have been to take over the world and have them realize I am not so grand as all of that. Far better to be the Headmaster of a school where I could mould my students and keep the golden glow of my victories."
The honesty of that answer startled Harry, and he stared up into the gentle, benign face he had known for so very long and suddenly realized just how old Albus Dumbledore was; how selfish he was in his selflessness. Revered by many, honored by the strongest witches and wizards of following generations, feared by Voldemort, consulted by the Ministry -- what higher aspiration could the man have had? He was everything the now-vanquished Dark Lord had wished to be, except immortal, with the only real difference being his allegiance to the Light.
Harry felt vaguely ill. "Was everything you did for the acclamation of the crowd?"
"Some of it, I think." Dumbledore's frank gaze was somewhat unnerving. "The mistakes I made in handling a young Tom Marvolo Riddle, many of the errors in dealing with the Marauders... and Severus, both. I did not intervene with Riddle as I should have -- I curried the favor of Headmaster Dippet, instead of seeing to the welfare of a child I knew was entranced by the Dark. Your father and his friends were popular with the student body almost from the moment they entered the school, and I did not wish to alienate the children. Sirius and James both grew to believe that they were entitled to my approval, no matter their actions -- so Severus suffered indignities both from his Gryffindor nemeses and from members of other Houses when it became clear that no one in authority would support him. In retrospect, it was quite foolish of me, but Severus was but one, orphaned, penniless boy -- Sirius was the heir of the Blacks and James had the charisma and skills to rise high in the Ministry."
"So you sacrificed him?"
"My deeds drove Severus into Voldemort's arms, if that's what you mean, Harry, though that was not my intent. I never believed that he would turn so far to the Dark, you see, for I knew that unlike Riddle, Severus' soul was shadowed, not black, and that he would never be able to abide the fetters tied by Darkness."
Harry turned away; staring down the empty hall and the suits of armor that glimmered softly in diffuse sunlight. Absently he reached out, letting the light from one of the keyholes so far above them to drip thick and honeyed over his hand. "'Fetters of Darkness, Chains of Light.'"
"'Cloak of Shadow, Illusions of Twilight'," finished Dumbledore. "The ritual words are not merely allegorical, Harry."
"They speak to me." Harry cupped his hand, watching the Light collect within his palm, a shining pool of energy lying quiescent in his grasp. With an absent thought, he transformed it into a goblet brimming with clear, pure water. Cold and sweet, it ran over his tongue like glacier-water. He handed the cup to Dumbledore. "It's so easy now."
Dumbledore turned the goblet over in his hands; brilliant copper hammered thin and embossed with the symbols of all four houses, picked out in gold. "You will do great things, Harry."
"Yes." His wand slipped into his hand, almost without volition, and he stared at it. "Terrible things ... but great."
~0~
The NEWTs, when they came, were something of a joke for the surviving Seventh Years of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What they took, they passed with flying colors.
Harry Potter walked out of his Potions practical exam dripping with sweat and barely able to stand, but with the clear knowledge that it was over. Everything that made up his Hogwarts life in the remaining hours would merely be a long and painful denouement that he was not eager to prolong. Behind him, Hermione Granger stepped out of the dungeon classroom that had been used for the test looking as fresh and well rested as she had when she entered.
"You know I hate you, right?" His playful glare was met in full force by her mischievous smile.
"Of course I do, Harry." Bright chocolate eyes flickered behind him, before focusing their not-so-innocent intent upon him. "You say that to all the girls."
Harry gaped at her for a moment. "Girls are soft in all the wrong places, Hermione."
"Is that so, Mr. Potter?"
Harry froze. That voice flayed his nerves like knives dipped in brandy.
"Professor Snape."
"I'll leave you two alone, shall I?"
"Hermione --"
"Bye, Harry." Hermione dashed up the stairs, snickers trailing after her like pixies. Harry stared after her.
"Turn around, Mr. Potter."
Harry shook his head.
"Lost our Gryffindor courage, have we? Unable to brazen-out your wrong-doing?" A cruel hand grasped his shoulder and swung him around violently. "Look at me, Mr. Potter."
"I'm sorry," Harry choked out, staring at the floor. "There wasn't any other way."
"Five points from Gryffindor for your utter inability to follow instructions, Mr. Potter. Look. At. Me."
Harry raised his head, scanning up the thin legs (carefully not lingering on the juncture at the thighs), along the no-longer-emaciated torso and up to the scowling face of the man he had wronged so grievously.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Snape drawled, black eyes fierce and calculating. "Sorry? Did you think I went against Voldemort only to claim another master for myself?"
"No! You --" Harry took a deep breath. "Fudge was going to throw you in Azkaban. Nurse Pomfrey wasn't sure that you were going to live..."
"What made you think I'd rather be tied to you?" spat Snape. "Do you have any idea what it is you've done?"
"Aside from violating nearly every principle of right and wrong I have in order to save your life?" Harry's temper flared. "Aside from keeping Fudge from rounding up every Slytherin in the country and killing them?"
"Fudge obviously doesn't need to do that himself, the public is doing it for him."
"I know." Despair welled up in him for a moment. "Do you think I don't know? I did something as terrible as any crime committed by a Death Eater, and I'd fucking do it again if it meant protecting you all. I swore to Blaise and the Slytherins that I'd do whatever it takes to keep them safe from the Ministry."
"You obnoxious little --"
"Shut up! -- Go ahead, take points from Gryffindor, I don't care! Soon you won't have to worry about it, or me, since I'm leaving. Fudge has to be stopped and as far as I can tell, I'm the only one prepared to do anything about him, or the outdated governing bodies that have left him in office for so long." Harry glared up at the man. "I'm sorry to have sinned against you for so long and so profoundly but I'm not going to apologize for saving your life."
"You've bound us. Do you understand what that means, you horrid little fool?"
"Your realm is Shadow and Twilight, your sphere the Moon," said Harry. "Nothing too much for you to handle, here in the dungeons with your snakelings, your vipers. You've only to return to your formerly acetic, celibate lifestyle -- or become a debauched, drunken fiend. It's all the same to me."
With that, Harry stalked up the stairs, black eyes burning into his back.
On to Part IV
Harry woke alone, semen stained and panting. The Light within him burned with a steady flame, casting small, dark shadows upon his heart. The odd, pale flickers that had overlaid it were gone, along with the pale, soft shadows that had accompanied them. The power that had been inexorably rising had crested, leaving a strong, heavy flow of magic that was within the bounds of what he could control. The relief was sweeter than orgasm, just knowing that he would not break under the pressure.
Moonlight cascaded from the waxing moon, and he drank in the radiance of it, listening to it whisper of starlight and shadow-dreams. Yielding to the soft songs of the sweet, silver light, Harry fell back to sleep cradled in the power of his mate's domain.
"Harry, you bastard, what the fuck have you done!" Blaise Zabini's brown eyes blazed with anger. "Snape's taken to his quarters and refuses to come out."
Harry jerked away from Blaise's angry grip and glared at his friend and ally. "I did what I had to do, Zabini. Just drop it!"
"No. He's my Head of House and he won't speak to any of us."
"That's not my fault!" Except that it was, and Harry knew it, but for now there was nothing to be done. Snape had awoken three days before to discover that not only was he married to Harry Potter, he'd been bound to him without so much as a by-your-leave. Harry knew that Dumbledore had tried to explain the circumstances behind the actions to him, but Snape was having none of it.
Not that Harry really blamed him. He could see vague memories wiggling behind Snape's eyes, and knew that the man was less than pleased with the fleeting recollections left to him.
Plus, the Ministry had insisted on putting the NEWTs back onto their schedule. Most of the younger students had been excused from testing, but the Fifth and Seventh Years had been thrown all into a frenzy of preparation, -- teachers and students alike. The only positive outcome of it was that Harry could sleep now, exhaustion filling his empty bed.
"Damn it, Harry --"
"I did what I had to do."
"What did you have to do?"
"I fucking raped him, okay?" Once the words left Harry's mouth, he collapsed in the corridor. He had no other word for it, but hadn't admitted it aloud. "For all intents and purposes, I raped him."
Blaise got quiet.
"You assaulted my Head of House. Sexually."
"I saved his life. And yours."
"You raped my Head of House." Zabini stared at him, unblinking.
"I did what I had to do, Zabini."
"Fucking --"
"Did you think I was lying when I told you and the others that I would do whatever I had to in order to keep you all safe from the Ministry?"
"You --"
"Did you think I was lying?"
"No, but --"
"I did what was necessary. Not what I wanted to do." Even now, over a week later, he could feel Snape inside of him. The memory of the pleasure of it shamed Harry, who avoided any contact with those who were there.
"I'll never forgive you for this, you know." Blaise's eyes held a hatred that had gone missing long ago. He turned away, a precise, graceful pivot that gave his robes a menacing swirl à la Snape. Blaise's furious footfalls echoed in an angry tattoo against the walls and Harry watched him go, feeling cold to the center of his soul.
"It's okay, Blaise. I can't forgive me, either."
Harry had only seen Snape once since the man had awakened, and the venom in those dead-black eyes had been more than enough to unman him. He couldn't apologize for what he had done -- even now the public was screaming for Death Eater blood and every day the Prophet reported the random murders of people even remotely suspected of having Death Eater sympathies. Malfoy Manor had been looted and burned to the ground, causing a spectacle that required dozens of Ministry Obliviators to fix the mess before it hit the Muggle press.
Hermione had her hands full as Head Girl and coordinating the Defense League to patrol the halls. Students had begun attacking students they had fought alongside, tensions and prejudices setting ruddy rivulets flowing down the ancient corridors. No one had died because Hermione put her dainty pointed boots firmly upon the necks of the offenders, but it had been a near-run thing.
It made him want to laugh.
No one, it seemed, wanted to offend the Lady Granger. Then again, she had been the one to restore the key-point of the castle wards and, as far as Harry knew, Dumbledore had been unable to get them back from her. Every time the subject was brought up, Hermione's lips would quirk up flashing a razor's edge... and Dumbledore would back down. When it came down to it, Hermione controlled the castle and there wasn't much that Dumbledore (or the Board of Governors) could do about it.
It was funny, Harry thought as he managed to lever himself up from the cold stone floors, how his own notoriety had faded in the face of Hermione's. Nearly all of the younger students called her The Lady, with capitals clearly enunciated, and they clearly feared (or revered) her far more than they did the Boy-Who-Lived. Then again, it had been Hermione's voice that struck down the Dark Queen of Gryffindor and Hermione's blood and will that brought the Great Ward back up. Harry might have killed Voldemort and gone head-to-head with the likes of Lucius Malfoy, but it was Hermione who had saved the school.
"There you are, my boy. Miss Granger thought you might be in some difficulty." The Headmaster's remaining blue eye twinkled in a mad counterpoint to the wild spinning of his artificial one. "Are you well?"
"Well enough." Harry did not want to discuss his argument with Zabini. He cast about for a more neutral subject. "Have they finally sent the examiners for the OWLs and NEWTs?"
"Indeed they have, dear boy." Dumbledore smiled benignly. "I expect that you'll do well."
Harry stared at him, somehow appalled to be discussing something quite so mundane. "Right. I suppose I should go study."
"He'll come around, you know."
Harry didn't pretend he did not know whom the Headmaster was talking about. "It doesn't matter. We didn't give him much of a choice, after all."
"Harry..." Dumbledore hesitated, suddenly looking old. "I have no wish to break a confidence, but I have known for quite some time that Severus did not hate you. Nor do I believe that he does now. It was all a bit disconcerting for him."
"A bit disconcerting?" Harry stared at him. "Professor Snape finds his freedom precious and I took it away from him. He was used and abused by Tom Marvolo Riddle in ways that sicken me, and I did the same thing."
"You have done what was necessary, Harry. Your actions are commendable."
"My actions have been despicable, Headmaster. And I will continue them for the welfare of those I hold dear." Harry stared at nothing. "What does that make me?"
"It makes you a Gryffindor, Harry." Dumbledore held his hand out and Harry took it, wary. "One of the gross misrepresentations of your House, Harry, is that you are all stupidly brave, leaping before you look. That you act without understanding -- and thus lacking fear of -- the consequences.
"This is a profoundly unfair characterization. The house of the Lion is filled with courage -- a thing quite distinct from bravery -- and courage defines your actions. Courage makes you stand and fight the good fight, wherever you may find it; to fight in the face of impossible odds and incontrovertible controversy."
"Doing the wrong things for the right reasons?" Harry shook his head. "I --"
"--are Magus Lucis Noctusque." Dumbledore sighed. "Being cruel to be kind is part of your makeup, Harry. It had to be for the ritual to work at all."
"A good prince must only avoid hatred," Harry muttered to himself, thinking of a Muggle book he had found in Dudley's room. "Better to be feared than loved, better still to be feared and loved, but if one must be lacking, love is the one that has to go." He stared at Dumbledore. "You are feared and loved, why didn't you..."
Dumbledore looked away as Harry's voice trailed off. "The adulation of the world I could handle, Harry. Defeating a Dark Lord? Bah! Child's play! But ruling it afterward? My courage failed. I am loved by many, Harry, and I could not imagine those kind eyes turning to me with indifference, if not hatred."
"You were in Slytherin, weren't you?"
The old man nodded. "Very good, Harry. People have viewed me for years as being the greatest wizard of my generation, and, perhaps, of the last five hundred years. What a letdown it would have been to take over the world and have them realize I am not so grand as all of that. Far better to be the Headmaster of a school where I could mould my students and keep the golden glow of my victories."
The honesty of that answer startled Harry, and he stared up into the gentle, benign face he had known for so very long and suddenly realized just how old Albus Dumbledore was; how selfish he was in his selflessness. Revered by many, honored by the strongest witches and wizards of following generations, feared by Voldemort, consulted by the Ministry -- what higher aspiration could the man have had? He was everything the now-vanquished Dark Lord had wished to be, except immortal, with the only real difference being his allegiance to the Light.
Harry felt vaguely ill. "Was everything you did for the acclamation of the crowd?"
"Some of it, I think." Dumbledore's frank gaze was somewhat unnerving. "The mistakes I made in handling a young Tom Marvolo Riddle, many of the errors in dealing with the Marauders... and Severus, both. I did not intervene with Riddle as I should have -- I curried the favor of Headmaster Dippet, instead of seeing to the welfare of a child I knew was entranced by the Dark. Your father and his friends were popular with the student body almost from the moment they entered the school, and I did not wish to alienate the children. Sirius and James both grew to believe that they were entitled to my approval, no matter their actions -- so Severus suffered indignities both from his Gryffindor nemeses and from members of other Houses when it became clear that no one in authority would support him. In retrospect, it was quite foolish of me, but Severus was but one, orphaned, penniless boy -- Sirius was the heir of the Blacks and James had the charisma and skills to rise high in the Ministry."
"So you sacrificed him?"
"My deeds drove Severus into Voldemort's arms, if that's what you mean, Harry, though that was not my intent. I never believed that he would turn so far to the Dark, you see, for I knew that unlike Riddle, Severus' soul was shadowed, not black, and that he would never be able to abide the fetters tied by Darkness."
Harry turned away; staring down the empty hall and the suits of armor that glimmered softly in diffuse sunlight. Absently he reached out, letting the light from one of the keyholes so far above them to drip thick and honeyed over his hand. "'Fetters of Darkness, Chains of Light.'"
"'Cloak of Shadow, Illusions of Twilight'," finished Dumbledore. "The ritual words are not merely allegorical, Harry."
"They speak to me." Harry cupped his hand, watching the Light collect within his palm, a shining pool of energy lying quiescent in his grasp. With an absent thought, he transformed it into a goblet brimming with clear, pure water. Cold and sweet, it ran over his tongue like glacier-water. He handed the cup to Dumbledore. "It's so easy now."
Dumbledore turned the goblet over in his hands; brilliant copper hammered thin and embossed with the symbols of all four houses, picked out in gold. "You will do great things, Harry."
"Yes." His wand slipped into his hand, almost without volition, and he stared at it. "Terrible things ... but great."
The NEWTs, when they came, were something of a joke for the surviving Seventh Years of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What they took, they passed with flying colors.
Harry Potter walked out of his Potions practical exam dripping with sweat and barely able to stand, but with the clear knowledge that it was over. Everything that made up his Hogwarts life in the remaining hours would merely be a long and painful denouement that he was not eager to prolong. Behind him, Hermione Granger stepped out of the dungeon classroom that had been used for the test looking as fresh and well rested as she had when she entered.
"You know I hate you, right?" His playful glare was met in full force by her mischievous smile.
"Of course I do, Harry." Bright chocolate eyes flickered behind him, before focusing their not-so-innocent intent upon him. "You say that to all the girls."
Harry gaped at her for a moment. "Girls are soft in all the wrong places, Hermione."
"Is that so, Mr. Potter?"
Harry froze. That voice flayed his nerves like knives dipped in brandy.
"Professor Snape."
"I'll leave you two alone, shall I?"
"Hermione --"
"Bye, Harry." Hermione dashed up the stairs, snickers trailing after her like pixies. Harry stared after her.
"Turn around, Mr. Potter."
Harry shook his head.
"Lost our Gryffindor courage, have we? Unable to brazen-out your wrong-doing?" A cruel hand grasped his shoulder and swung him around violently. "Look at me, Mr. Potter."
"I'm sorry," Harry choked out, staring at the floor. "There wasn't any other way."
"Five points from Gryffindor for your utter inability to follow instructions, Mr. Potter. Look. At. Me."
Harry raised his head, scanning up the thin legs (carefully not lingering on the juncture at the thighs), along the no-longer-emaciated torso and up to the scowling face of the man he had wronged so grievously.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Snape drawled, black eyes fierce and calculating. "Sorry? Did you think I went against Voldemort only to claim another master for myself?"
"No! You --" Harry took a deep breath. "Fudge was going to throw you in Azkaban. Nurse Pomfrey wasn't sure that you were going to live..."
"What made you think I'd rather be tied to you?" spat Snape. "Do you have any idea what it is you've done?"
"Aside from violating nearly every principle of right and wrong I have in order to save your life?" Harry's temper flared. "Aside from keeping Fudge from rounding up every Slytherin in the country and killing them?"
"Fudge obviously doesn't need to do that himself, the public is doing it for him."
"I know." Despair welled up in him for a moment. "Do you think I don't know? I did something as terrible as any crime committed by a Death Eater, and I'd fucking do it again if it meant protecting you all. I swore to Blaise and the Slytherins that I'd do whatever it takes to keep them safe from the Ministry."
"You obnoxious little --"
"Shut up! -- Go ahead, take points from Gryffindor, I don't care! Soon you won't have to worry about it, or me, since I'm leaving. Fudge has to be stopped and as far as I can tell, I'm the only one prepared to do anything about him, or the outdated governing bodies that have left him in office for so long." Harry glared up at the man. "I'm sorry to have sinned against you for so long and so profoundly but I'm not going to apologize for saving your life."
"You've bound us. Do you understand what that means, you horrid little fool?"
"Your realm is Shadow and Twilight, your sphere the Moon," said Harry. "Nothing too much for you to handle, here in the dungeons with your snakelings, your vipers. You've only to return to your formerly acetic, celibate lifestyle -- or become a debauched, drunken fiend. It's all the same to me."
With that, Harry stalked up the stairs, black eyes burning into his back.
