FIC: Missing
Title: Missing, part of the Tentative Alliance series Rating: PG-13 Author: shinesodark Beta: fe_oh_nah Word Count:100x7 Warnings: Angst Disclaimer: If you see anything you recognize it isn't mine. Challenge: #74: Animagus
When Snape didn’t appear that night, Harry didn’t worry.
When Snape hadn’t surfaced by supper on Monday, Harry became concerned. He spent the night in Snape’s office and woke alone. His head ached, but he didn’t dare drop his shields.
After Charms class on Wednesday he caught Draco’s eye and met up with him in the Owlery.
“If anyone knows something, it’ll be Father,” Draco claimed, “Who’s that for?”
Harry held up his letter to Hedwig. “Mala. She has sources we can’t imagine.”
Draco stared. “Mala? As in Lady Prince?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied, frowning, “What?”
“Nothing,” Draco snapped, turning away.
____________________________________
Harry,
Thank you for telling me Severus is missing. I had no idea. I will put my feelers out, but I think we can both guess where he is. Do not worry, Dearest. Severus is strong. He would want you to carry on as normal. I’ll contact you when I know something.
All my love, Mala
Draco sneered, “She calls you ‘Dearest’.” Harry ignored him, re-reading Lucius’s letter before dropping it to Snape’s desk.
“Nothing,” he groaned.
“Dumbledore?” Draco offered.
“You heard him in Potions,” Harry replied, “He doesn’t know either.”
The name sat heavy in the air around them: Voldemort.
____________________________________
That night Harry dreamed.
Severus … The name floated past him, felt but unheard. He followed it, trusting only that name as the darkness snarled and clawed at him. He walked for hours until a light appeared. Harry ran towards it and found himself in a cave, a room. All around were faceless, naked dolls. Boys with dark hair, bruises and bite marks. Curled on a rock couch was a black fox. Sleek fur was lank, matted with blood and semen. It’s delicate paws raw and bleeding.
“He is mine!” laughed the darkness.
“No,” Harry growled, “He is MINE!”
____________________________________
Harry spent Thursday evening with Hagrid, trying to work off some of his tense energy. He ended up chopping wood in the garden, keeping a wary eye on the forest.
“All righ’, Harry?” Hagrid called, emerging from his hut.
“Smashing,” Harry grunted, swinging the axe again.
“Tha’s plen’y, Harry. Ye’d better be getting’ back t’the castle,” Hagrid smiled. Sighing, Harry put down the axe and grabbed his shirt. It was a cool evening, but he’d worked up a sweat, hoping to sleep through the night.
Hoping Snape would wake him, glaring.
“Steer clear o’the forest, Harry. Odd mood in there tonight.”
____________________________________
Trudging up the stone steps, Harry welcomed the slight breeze against his heated skin. His arms and shoulders felt like jelly, but it felt good. He felt like he’d finally done something.
A sudden gust of wind drew his attention to the trees. For a moment he thought he saw something move, but he couldn’t be sure in the waning light. Another hard gust made him turn his head and he caught a glimpse of something. He paused, remembering Hagrid’s warning, but the wind insistently pushed him.
“Okay, I’m going,” he muttered. The wind stopped and realization dawned. “I’m going, Mala!”
____________________________________
Nothing moved in the underbrush. The fading light forced Harry to light his wand even at the outside edge of the forest. Looking back to check his location, Harry made his way towards the tree closest to the last flicker of movement he’d seen.
He didn’t have to look far.
Crouched at the base of the tree, visibly shivering, was a silver fox. It’s fur was matted, it’s sides heaved in fear as he drew near. It’s feet … “Sweet Merlin,” Harry whispered. It’s feet were mangled and bloody. How it had walked, Harry didn’t know. Approaching slowly Harry murmured, “Professor?”
____________________________________
Harry tried to hurry while not jostling his injured burden. He had his mentor’s animal self wrapped in his shirt, cradled carefully against his chest. The fox hadn’t even tried to fight when Harry picked it up, black eyes boring into his.
“This is probably going to hurt, sir,” He apologised, “Don’t hold it against me.” He took the pink tongue licking his hand as an “okay” and settled Snape against him gently as he could. The soft breathing on his neck reassured him and Harry steadily moved closer to the castle.
Deep inside he sighed as something slid back into place.