It’s Always the Quiet Ones

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: Abuse, Character Death, and Sub!Harry, OOC!Neville with an explanation.

(Not-so) New Warning: Sub!Severus

Summary: Harry had been watched constantly since first year, but with everyone’s eyes always on him, it was hard to see who had been watching the closest and who was tired of just watching.

A/N - Italics = flashbacks

Trust must gently gathered be,

'ere the Shepard takes his flock.

So, learn ye well yer duties to them,

Let every act take their needs in stock.

Be warned – not all will gladly bow,

nor even the most needy, bend...

Its Always the Quiet Ones, 11

Wishing that he'd had the foresight to pull the drapes surrounding his four poster,as he heard Neville's soft footfalls approaching their dorm's threshold, Harry shut his eyes and turned his head away. If it weren't such a Dudley gesture, he would have thrown his arm across his eyes and announced that he wanted to be left alone. Dudley would have screamed it...

But, Harry was almost afraid that if he gave in to the almost alarmingly strong desire to scream his betrayal at Neville, he wouldn't leave off until every ounce of venom and unrest had been poured out, and then, when everyone knew the truth and still did nothing... Well, Harry didn't want to know what would happen then, so wisely chose to stay silent.

It wasn't as if he didn't already know what Neville was coming up. From the moment that he'd seen Neville's stricken expression turning away from Ron in search of him, he'd known that Neville was going to come up and try to smooth things over. Neville was going to follow him and attempt to salvage what he could of the illusion that he'd been helping Harry out of friendship instead of setting him up to do the very thing that he'd done to Snape – steal his magic... and worse... his freedom.

As much as he had tried to deny the truth of the Headmaster's accusations -swearing, despite the heartbreaking sympathy in the Headmaster's eyes, that Neville was someone he could trust, someone that cared about him just for himself – the truth had been undeniable from the moment that Neville had walked into the room with Snape's magical signature pouring off of him like the tainted stench of a five-pence, grab-bag cologne. All to familiar with Snape's abrasive signature from having it mercilessly ripping through his memories during their covert occulmency lessons, Harry recognized the damning proof that the headmaster was right: Neville had taken, first, the Potion Master's freewill, and then his magic as well – for Harry could conceive of no other logical or reasonable explanation that would account for the Professor giving his magic to a student, whom he despised almost as thoroughly as he despised Harry himself.

Realizing suddenly that it might not safe to lose himself in his thoughts around Neville, as he had just allowed himself to do, purely out of habit, Harry dragged his attention back to the present, only to find that – instead of approaching him and trying to explain himself, Neville had apparently written him off as a lost cause and was kneeling in front of the trunk by his bed rummaging through it with an intense almost longing expression that Harry half wished was directed at him. Not that he actually wanted Neville to keep lying to him, or worse, insult his intelligence by attempting to justify or diminish the horrible nature of what he'd done –

Still, it stung to be so easily written off without even as much of an explanation as an insincere apology. Why on earth had he let himself believe that Neville was any different?

Even as he mentally protested his treatment, though, Harry could almost imagine his relatives sneering comments and cackles at the thought that he had let himself believe Neville's lie – that he deserved any better.

When had anything ever been any different? When had anyone ever truly cared? This was somehow even worse than fourth year when he'd realized that Hermione and Ron would turn on him just as quickly as everyone else when they should have known him well enough to know he wouldn't have put his name in the cup, but they never even asked, just assumed he had and went their own way until the first trial when they finally saw what he'd known the whole time that he stood a good chance of getting killed. That had hurt. Harry had honestly believed that he thought they knew him better than that, cared about him more than that, but that was had been a foolish hope, and he had only himself to blame for believing it because when had anyone ever truly cared about him? For his own sake?

That morning, before the Headmaster's revelations, Harry would have been certain that he could name at least one person that had tried to care about him. After all, Neville had seemed to try to be his friend, even fourth year, when everyone else (even Ron and Hermione) had turned their backs on him – Neville had come out to the lake to keep him company when he didn't feel like staying in the common room. Neville had seemed to care then, and for no other reason than friendship... or so Harry thought, but now, now he could see that that had only been an illusion, a deceit, and he had been a fool to believe in it. Hadn't he learned any better by now?

“Apparently not,” he sighed, barely aware that his soft murmur had been heard until Neville snapped, “Stop that!”

"What?" Harry demanded, petulantly, "What am 'I' doing?

"Oh, nothing... nothing at all... and that's exactly it. You've just been told something that's got you seriously freaked out, and I can tell from the way that your watching me - as if you were a pixie, and I a kneazle about to pounce, that you don't even feel at all safe or comfortable in my presence and obviously don't trust me, but - instead of telling me off because you're so sure that I've betrayed you too, or even asking me, "how could I?" ... as far as I can see all you're doing is wallowing in self-pity and wrapping your ever present blanket of insecurities around you so tightly that it's a miracle that you haven't smothered yourself under it.

It's pretty clear that you've accepted the headmaster's report at face value even though you've known me, day in and day out - for what? Almost six years, now? You've seen what I'm like when I'm upset... When I'm tired... when I'm angry... when I'm hurt. Day in and day out, you've seen how I treat others... how I react to things... what I stand up for ... and yet, you take his every word at face value.

Oh, I know it comes from Dumbledore. There's no one else that it could have come from, but for all that he might be the other savior of the wizarding world, that doesn't make perfect or immune to making mistakes. I get it that he's the headmaster. Everyone loves him... everyone trusts him... an looks up to him as if he's perfect ... as if he can't be wrong, but he can, Harry. He is...

"Don't!" Harry shouted, unable to contain himself any longer, "Don't try to lie about it. I know what you did; his magic - Snape's - it's almost dripping off you - like sweat or something, so don't even try to say that you didn't do it. You did and there's no way that I'll believe that he just gave his magic away. Not Snape - so there's no point to try and deny that you did that other thing too. I'm not stupid."

Harry clinched his fists on his blankets and tried to look away, but Neville's soft response was too compelling: "No, Harry , I won't deny that Severus Snape's magic is at my disposal because I took him as my slave..." Pausing as he studied the horror on Harry's face, Neville debated whether he should tell his friend the entire truth or not. It was a risk not to, especially with the Headmaster working against him, but after his morning discussions with Harry, Neville was hardly certain whether Harry could cope with hearing even the easiest revelation that he had made preparations for. Shifting his journal from one hand to the other as he debated the question, Neville barely refrained from cursing the headmaster for pushing him to this when he'd have to know that it would hurt Harry. If he held back, though....

"Harry, yes... I took him as a slave. I . Made. Him. A. Slave. That's the true part of what the headmaster told you, but what he didn't tell you is just as important - Harry. The only way that I could have made him a slave, even against his will, was to have earned his trust then sealed his oath of obedience - an oath made without coercion - with an oath of my own to use every resource available to me - including his own magic - to keep him safe."

Harry's disbelieving eyes fixed on Neville - trying to understand what he was being told - hoping that his friend was being honest with him, but knowing so little about the situation. Harry knew he was clearly struggling with the concept, but he hoped that it wasn't entirely obvious that he was struggling as much with his desire to hold on to his hope that he could trust Neville as he was to rationalize what Neville had done. How could Neville make anyone a slave. The only person who came close to doing something like that, in the Wizarding world, as far as he knew was Voldemort, and Harry was sickened at the possibility that there could be any point of comparison between the two.

"To ... Keep him safe? Nev - " Harry's soft anxious question gave Neville a brief glimmer of hope, especially as his friend paused on the less formal abbreviation of his name before continuing, " but.. he's... he's an adult... a professor, and not like Lockhart, either." Harry broke off, struggling for the least offensive way to make the point he wanted to make, "he's..."

"..."

"he's ..."

Neville almost winced at his friend's pained, awkward pauses. No one else seemed to have noticed, but it came across with perfect clarity to Neville just how much Harry had changed every summer - coming back less confident, less assertive, less whole every year.

"He's..."

"Experienced." Neville offered gently.

"Experienced?" Ron announced his presence with a bark of sardonic laughter, before he continued, "bleeding hell, Neville, he's a sodding death eater!"

Ron's next insult caught in his throat as Neville unexpectedly spun, drew his wand, and shot a light percussion hex into Ron's stomach - knocking the wind out of the redhead.

As Harry and Hermine jerked in shock and drew their wands, Neville startled them both by grabbing the back of Ron's collar and pulling him upright as he shoved his scarred palm directly in front of Ron's eyes with a tight snarl.

"They may not know what this means, Ron, but you certainly should."

Paling as he stared at the still pink scar across Neville's palm, Ron nodded stiffly and let Neville push him up the rest of the way before straightening as Neville pushing him another few feet away.

When Hermione raised her wand as if considering whether to hex Neville, Ron caught her arm and silenced her with a shake of his head, then stepped forward and bowed formally.

"I apologize Neville - to both you and Professor Snape."

"Accepted," Neville agreed, ignoring the expressions of shock on both Harry and Hermione's faces, "But... Ron, it's not a mistake to make twice."

Without waiting for a response from Ron, he turned back to Harry.

"Hare, I don't know what to say that will help you see that you can still trust me, but until you can - Harry... I'm serious about this. You have to be careful and protect yourself. I know you want to trust Dumbledore, but don't let him talk you into taking a loyalty oath. You've already proven yourself beyond any question."

An inarticulate huff broke from Hermione's throat as she half stepped forward ready to interrupt Neville as he opened his mouth to begin to explain the consequences of such an oath for all the world it would do when Harry fairly radiated fear, mistrust, and confusion. Before Hermione opened her mouth to dispute his comment, Ron suddenly grabbed her wrist silencing her, again, with the unexpectedly sharp gesture. When he saw that he had successfully silenced her, Ron turned back to Neville and asked in a voice brittle with understanding, "Snape?"

"Yes" Neville remarked dryly, "Twice before me, and it was still a true taking."

"Shite! I wouldn't have wanted to believe it, but it makes sense - in a sick sort of way." Ron continued despite Harry and Hermione's clear confusion. " I never could figure out why Dumbledore would trust him, but it makes sense now.

"Doesn't it, though?" Neville answered, allowing his anger and disgust touch his voice as he agreed. His eyes met Ron's and for the first time in close to five years, they stared glimmer of true understanding, before Ron blinked suddenly and curse again.

"Damn!" Ron cursed softly, with feeling before he glanced back and forth from the journal in Neville's hands to Harry and then to Hermione. "You'd better get back to him, to Snape. I'll try to explain here... but ... the headmaster told Harry in front of the entire common room; the rumors are bound to get around pretty quick, and I'm betting that there are at least one or two snakes in that nest full of slytherins with a vested interest in making certain that Snape never shares his secrets with his new master.

Rattled by Ron's comment and unable to remember whether he had locked the room of requirement, Neville cursed, shoved the journal that he'd dug out of his trunk into Harry's hands and rushed from the room at a frantic pace. Although their friend ran almost silently, almost as soon as he was out the dorm, they could hear the irritated cries and comments students that he pushed out hof his way ass he made his way across the common room, and then slam of the portrait behind him.