The Nature of Horcruxes

Chapter 3

They spent the rest of the day browsing Knockturn Alley for any Horcruxes, knowing they probably wouldn't find anything. They returned to Diagon Alley for dinner, and from Diagon Alley, Harry, Dumbledore, and Dobby made their merry way to Privet Drive. The destination didn't seem half so odious to Harry when he knew Albus Dumbledore would be accompanying him. Still, by then it was tradition for him to ask if there was any way around it. As the three walked down the dimly lit street, Harry protested half-heartedly.

"Are you sure we have to revive the wards?"

"Yes, Harry."

"But you're back now, and you aren't going anywhere, so why would I possibly need this place?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard in a thoughtful way, then paused under a street lamp. His ghostly form was tinged with gold, and Harry had never thought he looked more powerful or wise.

"Well, I could be wrong about Severus. He might turn out to be a traitor, and snap his wand. Thus, he would end my existence, and Voldemort could take over the world by tea time. Not to mention, your chance at getting your face on a Chocolate Frog Card would be shot. In the aftermath, while the crumbling Order struggles to overthrow him, mad with grief, I would hope you would make your way here where the blood protection would keep you safe. You would, of course, have to live the rest of your life as a muggle – The Boy who Started off Promising but Finished Rather Unspectacularly."

Harry stared at him blankly. Dumbledore smiled, then patted his head.

"Don't worry my boy. It is much more likely that you will destroy the Horcruxes, defeat Voldemort, and look dashing on your Chocolate Frog Card. However, we should be prepared for anything!"

Harry exchanged a worried look with Dobby, then followed the Headmaster shaking his head at the old man's antics.

It goes without saying that the Dursleys were not pleased to see a ghost, a small deformed creature, and a Harry Potter on their doorstep. The ghost was the cause of no small amount of alarm, the creature inspired a look of revulsion on Petunia's face that could have curdled milk, and the Potter caused Vernon to grunt in a surprised/angry/irritated sort of way. Dudley was in the kitchen, one hand the size of a small frying pan pressed over his rump, the other rummaging around for a snack in the pantry. He was becoming rather indifferent to the whole 'Gasp! Harry's a Wizard and He's Got Freaky Friends!' bit. As long as he didn't end up with another pig tail, he wasn't interested.

After the initial protestations, the new guests found themselves seated in the Dursley's living room, all staring at each other heatedly, with the exception of Dumbledore (who was perusing one of Petunia's tabloids).

"Well, boy, when are you leaving?" Vernon asked rudely.

"Mum, where's the mustard?" Dudley interrupted.

"I fancy I resembled Prince William in my younger days. Minerva would swear up and down I looked more like Prince Charles, but Minerva has absolutely no sense for these sorts of things. What do you think, Harry?"

"Err…Prince William, sir," Harry answered with a creeping smile, then he addressed his uncle with, "As soon as possible, Uncle Vernon."

"And that…whatever that thing is…it better not mess the carpets!" Petunia threatened, still casting her beady eyes over Dobby. The house elf, who was quite used to death glares, merely returned her look with equal displeasure.

"He's not a thing. He's a Dobby. I mean, his name is Dobby. He's a house elf," Harry explained, hoping he would be able to diffuse any nasty rows before they started.

"Dobby is going to sleep for the night, sirs. If you be needing Dobby, just call." Without another word, Dobby popped out of sight. Harry found himself wishing he could do the same. Who knew how long he'd have to endure death glares from the Dursleys – most likely until they decided to go to bed. The thought brought up an interesting question.

"Professor Dumbledore, do you have to sleep?"

The older wizard glanced over the top of his spectacles at Harry.

"Yes, Harry, I do tire in this form. Not as quickly as I used to, but a drawback of being channeled through a wand is that I feel a bit depleted after Severus casts powerful spells. Unfortunately, he's been doing so rather frequently. If I'm not mistaken, it feels like ward magic. I suppose we shall find out soon enough."

"We're going to find Snape?"

"Professor Snape…well, actually I don't suppose he's a professor anymore."

"So I suppose Draco is still with Snape, huh?" Dumbledore shot him a reproving look for the lack of a respectful title over his ghostly glasses, but eventually he nodded in a pondering sort of way.

"Yes, I should think so. The bond Severus completed with him was unexpected. I imagine it will keep them close from now on."

The jealousy that had reared its head when he'd seen Ginny with Dean came back with a vengeance. Before he even realized he'd spoken, Harry blurted out, "What bond? Even if Snape isn't a traitor, Draco is! He has the mark, I'm sure of it! He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near Snape!" Harry all but clamped a hand over his own mouth in surprise. He could feel his cheeks go red, and he wished again he could disappear as Dobby had done earlier. When he finally gathered enough courage to look at Dumbledore, it was to see a face filled with curious amusement.

"I feel certain that Draco will see the error of his ways," Dumbledore answered mildly. Harry huffed, shaking his head, cheeks still heated.

"Just because he didn't kill you doesn't mean he wouldn't like to. He was probably just too cowardly." Harry had meant that as an insult, but Dumbledore merely chuckled.

"How glad I am, then, that Draco lacks your courage! While Severus's behavior is excusable, had Draco been the one to kill me, it would not be the same. It would prove that he was truly a servant of Voldemort. That is why the world can't be made up entirely of Gryffindors, my boy. If everyone had the courage to do everything they believed in, to possess enough bravery to die for what they thought was right, without ever questioning or doubting their actions, I doubt there would be many humans left. You must know that had I so wished, I could have disarmed Draco effortlessly. Have you forgotten that I am quite proficient at wandless magic? In the tower, I was testing him. Thankfully, he passed."

Harry was sullen. In his opinion, Draco was still a swarmy twit.

The Dursleys, who had been very quiet during this exchange, could no longer contain themselves.

"What about the has-no-name fellow? What in the bloody hell is going on?" Vernon stood, his huge bulk dwarfing his rail-thin wife. Dudley ambled into the living room, a massive sandwich in his hands. He sat on the stairs, overlooking the meeting with the sort of air one has while watching a boring television show.

"Well, Mr. Dursley, Voldemort, the dark wizard responsible for the death of Harry's parents and godfather, has regained his full power. Harry, with the help of a group of wizards known as the Order of the Pheonix, is destined to defeat him. Severus Snape is an Order member, but is mistakenly thought to be a traitor at the moment. Draco Malfoy is the son of a very wealthy and influential wizard (currently in prison) who may or may not be working for Voldemort. It remains to be seen if he will join our side."

Looking as though the wind had been taken out of his sails, Vernon sank back down onto the couch. He took Petunia's hand.

"If you are endangering my family by being here, I'll throw you out this instant!" He glared challengingly at Dumbledore, as if sizing him up.

Harry was ready to draw his wand, excited about the prospect of hexing his relatives, when Dumbledore said something quite unexpected.

"Your love of your family is quite admirable, Mr. Dursley, but I beg you to remember that Harry, too, is a member of your family. Do you not care about his welfare?"

Harry waited for the obvious answer that would come from Vernon, but instead he heard only a weary sigh. Several long seconds passed before Vernon replied in a grudging tone.

"You may stay as long as it is absolutely necessary, but then I want you gone."

Flabbergasted, Harry looked searchingly into his uncle's eyes. Vernon held his stare, a bit challengingly perhaps, but there was an underlying resignation – an acceptance, if one were willing to make the stretch.

"I assume these unexplainable accidents that have been occurring more and more frequently are to be blamed on this Voldy-shorts fellow. I don't know why on earth they think you can defeat him, but if you're going to give it a shot, might as well finish him off. Take care of this, boy, so we can go back to pretending you and your kind don't exist."

It was strange, but Vernon's words inspired a warm feeling in Harry's chest. It sounded like Vernon was telling him, in his own way, that he trusted him to get rid of Voldemort.

Petunia smoothed the throw on the couch unnecessarily, a tight expression on her face.

"I certainly was never friendly with my sister, but I didn't ever truly wish…I never wanted her to die like she did. I thought that I would be glad to be proved right – being a witch had cost her everything – but it was a hollow victory. My parents didn't live long enough to know of how she died, but if they had, they would have wanted whoever was responsible to be brought to justice. I want whoever's responsible to be brought to justice. Nothing good came out of Lily's death. I don't claim to understand your world or your people, but if you truly do this, I feel confident telling you that your mother would have been very…very proud of you."

Petunia didn't look at him, but Harry felt as though she'd stared right through him. His chest was tight, and he knew he couldn't take much more without loosing the animosity he felt towards his relatives – a dislike he had carried for years. Dumbledore wordlessly moved to his side, placing a comfortingly heavy hand on his shoulder. Harry felt as though walls he had built around his heart to protect him from his relatives were crumbling, as effortlessly as sand being blown away by the wind.

"You're wrong about one thing, Petunia. Lily's death was not in vain. The love she showed for Harry by giving her life for his is a deep, powerful kind of magic – the oldest magic we have. Harry is able to access magic that other wizards can't. Some might say it's genetics, but I think it's because of what his mother did for him. She cast ancient magic on Harry that became a part of him as he grew and learned. Her love is the reason he has the potential to tap into such great powers. I am almost sure that this theory is correct. Harry will defeat Voldemort because of love – the universal magic, and the one thing Voldemort will never understand or expect. Your ability to perform old magic, Harry, will frighten him to the core. Shaking your enemy's confidence is half the battle, after all."

They sat in silence until Dumbledore stood and yawned hugely.

"I do believe it is time for us to all get some rest. Harry, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. As I can rest anywhere, I think I shall do so in here. This armchair is quite comfortable – much better than, say, a turban."

Harry smiled, but the bewildered Dursleys missed the reference to Professor Quirrell. They made their way to their bedrooms, followed by Dudley, with Harry bringing up the rear. In the hallway, Petunia stopped to get a blanket and an extra pillow from the hall closet. She handed it to Harry wordlessly, then followed Vernon into their bedroom. It seemed that Dumbledore's presence, oddly enough, had brought some kind of unspoken truce to the household. This suspicion became fact when, after the generous gift of the warm blanket and soft pillow, Dudley ripped his sandwich in half and thrust it into Harry's free hand.

"If you're going to fight some evil wizard, you should beef up a bit. You're pitiful. I bet you can't even punch properly. I suppose I could give you a few tips in the morning." Dudley went off down the hall, stuffing his face all the way. Harry stood at the top of the stairs for a long moment, mustard from the sandwich dribbling over his fingers, a small smile on his face that he couldn't repress.

Once in the guest room bed, Harry tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. Eventually, his eyes slid closed, but when he opened them again, he was no longer looking at the ceiling of the spare bedroom.

He was looking into the dark eyes of one Severus Snape.

It was obvious the taller wizard was extremely angry, and frustrated as well. Harry somehow knew they were in the middle of an Occlumency lesson, or rather, at the end of one that had gone very badly.

"I've told you time and time again, Potter! This requires practice on your part outside of class! You're the most infuriating…the most irritating…" Snape was now bearing down over him, most likely seconds away from pulling out his wand and hexing Harry permanently. Instead, Harry found himself being kissed.

It was not like the kisses he'd shared with Ginny. It was harsher, needier, more desperate and violent. He stumbled backwards at the force of it, but Snape's arms wrapped around him and pulled him back, half lifting him up so that their groins were pressed together, their chests flush, and their faces at the perfect height for kissing passionately.

Harry's traitorous mouth filled with a moan, and that seemed to break the spell. The hand holding up his rear vanished and he stumbled on the retreating hem of Snape's robe. Sprawled on the ground, he could only look up at Snape in confusion as the older wizard's face was, for once, completely open to him. His eyes were burning, not with hatred, but with desire. The thin line between animosity and lust had been crossed, and Snape's true feelings toward him were exposed. Snape's hand reached out, as if wanting to pull him off the floor and back into his arms, but viciously he withdrew, clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles turned pearly white. He turned his back on him purposefully, then took several steps away. Harry watched the scene unfold with wide green eyes, confused and aroused at the same time, a million questions on his tongue and an ache in his trousers.

"I…" was all he managed to say before Snape turned back, striding across the room quickly, wand drawn, his eyes hardened to a task that he obviously felt must be done, no matter how unpleasant. The Obliviate spell echoed strangely, and Harry shot up in bed, his breathing wild and his head aching.

"Fuck!" he whispered harshly, clutching his hair in denial. He didn't need to ask if it had been a real memory or a dream.

He knew…and he understood.

Not willing to face Dumbledore, Harry laid back down again. His mind was racing, but he kept coming back to the same two thoughts.

His first thought was that Draco had better keep his bloody hands to himself. His second thought was that Severus Snape had a lot of explaining to do.

A/N: Response for this has been amazing! I love that we all seem to be on the same thought waves. Someone pointed out that Remus never said 'yes' to Tonks, but rather "We'll talk about this later." As in, "I'm still in love with Sirius and I don't want to be outed, you hoe." Anyway, about this chapter. It took awhile coming, but I've been busy lately. I was going to write more on it, but this just seemed like a good place to end it. Part of the reason for the delay was that I was writing out an outline for the next few chapters. I liked the idea of Severus kissing Harry and the obliviating him. Of course, Harry isn't too fond of the situation. Severus is going to get an earful, that's for sure.

Another Note – I originally posted a version of this chapter that hadn't been edited and was missing quite a few chunks of important plot development. If you read this chapter and Petunia didn't have any lines, you read the wrong version. Sorry!

MarsisBrightTonight: Excellent eye for details! I'll have to go reread that. That will help a TON with this fic!

Laureselde: You're funny.