Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Even as he stumbled away from her, he obeyed, albeit barely, coming to a halt on his knees inches in front of the hearth stones. He looked so broken and lost, she just didn't know what to say to him. It would have been better for Harry, she thought, if Severus had just gone to his meeting and come afterwards, if a little late, than to put the boy through this. On the other hand, Harry had been watching the timer she had set for him in the kitchen like a hawk, ever since Severus had gone at lunchtime, counting down the time till his return. Who knew, but he might have been more upset if Severus had not shown up on time with no warning.

Then she gathered herself and approached the boy. She was a mother to seven children; surely she could pacify one homesick boy.

'Come now, Harry, come back to the kitchen and we'll finish those drawings,' she offered again.

Harry shook his head. His arms were wrapped around his body, as if he were hugging himself.

'How about a nice cakie, sweetheart? Or some cocoa?'

'No, ma'am,' he whispered. 'Want Father.'

'I know you do, Harry dear.' She sighed, wanting to soothe his obvious hurt. 'But the Headmaster called him in for a meeting just now. There wasn't anything he could do but go. He said he was sorry he had to be later than he planned, but he'll be here as soon as he's able.'

'He promised.' Harry was barely audible, though Molly was crouching right beside him. 'He promised.'

'I know,' Molly told him, her heart breaking for the boy. For Severus, too, if she could admit it. 'And he said he was awful sorry. He looked sorry, to me, in fact. Looked very unhappy. But I'm sure he doesn't want you to be miserable, too. He'd rather you were well and happy, I know it.'

But Harry was shaking his head as if he didn't believe her, even as his body rocked slightly, back and forth. Glancing over his shoulder, she caught sight of her two youngest, and beckoned them into the room. 'Ginny? Come here a minute. Ronnie, go and bring in that game you were playing earlier. Gobstones, was it? Let's have a game with Harry here.'

'Inside, Mum?' Ronnie looked at her, aghast. 'You never let us play that inside.'

It was true; she hated getting the sticky mess of the stones on her carpet or even on the stone flagging. But it was easy enough to clean up, in truth, just a little swish of the wand. And she knew Harry loved the game. 'Just this once. I think Harry would like to stay by the hearth, so he's all ready to go when his father comes for him. All right, Ronnie?'

Her youngest son grinned. 'All right, Mum!' He scampered away to get the set of stones, and Ginny crept closer to where Harry was huddled in front of the fireplace.

'You okay, Harry?' the girl asked, and Molly smiled at her, pleased that she asked after him. Ginny was sometimes so boisterous with her brothers that she didn't have a care for anyone else's feelings, just needing to make sure she was heard above the fray.

Harry didn't answer. His mouth was moving, though, but Molly could not hear what he was saying. When Molly leaned a bit closer to him, she heard his harshly whispered words: 'Stupid, ugly, horrid, unnatural freak. You're a freak. Unwanted, horrible, nasty, little freak. . . .'

His arms were still hugging himself tightly, as if he had never been hugged by another person, or been given comfort at all in his short life. Molly could not even imagine such a horrible thing. When she touched his shoulder, to offer him some comfort, and perhaps pull him into a hug, he jerked back as if he had been burnt, and his harsh words about himself went up in volume. 'Such a stupid, ungrateful, loathsome, nasty freak! Can't touch, no one can touch you, you dirty, little freak.'

He continued on in this vein and seemed unwilling to stop, even when Molly told him again and again he wasn't any of those things. It was like he didn't hear her, or didn't want to believe her. Or maybe that he couldn't.

Ginny had drawn back from him, looking as though she wanted to cry. Drawing her daughter into her arms and holding her tight, Molly could completely understand.

'What is so all fired important that you had to speak to me now, Headmaster?' Severus asked as he stepped out of the floo, peeved beyond measure.

'Have a seat, Severus,' Albus said instead of answering. He gestured to one of the empty ones in front of his desk, and it was only then that Severus realized he was not alone with Dumbledore in the office. 'Please.'

With an irritated huff of breath, he complied, sinking into a chair and taking in the other two people in the office, a man and a woman . . . both of whom looked familiar. The woman was middle aged and rather stately looking, with short graying hair and thick eyebrows, and the man was tall -- Severus could tell, even while he was sitting -- bald, and black, with a gold earring in one ear. Then it hit him: Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The former was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the latter was an Auror of some repute.

Suddenly, Severus was glad he was sitting. There was only one reason these two would be waiting for him in Dumbledore's office. His thoughts immediately went to Harry, and he mourned the fact that he would never get a chance to say goodbye to his son. He turned a panicked gaze on his erstwhile employer, trying desperately to think of what he had done to make Dumbledore decide to ship him off to Azkaban. Had he stepped over the line with one of his students? Had a parent complained about his harsh words or numerous detentions, to make Dumbledore realize he should not have a former Death Eater on staff?

Grasping at some semblance of courage, he drew himself up, assuming a disdainful countenance. He would go quietly, with dignity, but he decided that he must learn the Headmaster's reasoning for doing this now. Had he not been a faithful servant since his return to the Light seven years ago? 'Albus,' he said, deliberately using a familiar form of address, so as to remind the man on the other side of the desk that they had once been close, close enough for Severus to trust him with his deadliest secrets. 'Would you do me the courtesy of telling me why?'

'Why what, my dear boy?' Albus asked, infuriatingly. His bright blue eyes were serious, with ne'er a twinkle, but the Headmaster did not look angry or disappointed. More . . . wary? Did he think Severus would put up a fight? Well, he would, if only for Harry's sake, if there was some chance he could get away and get to the Burrow before being caught . . . but where would such a tactic get him? Nowhere, except a life on the run, subjecting Harry to the same, or, if he were unable to get to Harry first, he would never see his son again, regardless of whether he was in prison.

'Why what?' Severus repeated sharply. 'How about, why you deemed it necessary to have me arrested,' Severus said sharply, not adding the now, as he would have liked.