Dumb Luck

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Other seventeen-year-olds, after opening presents on Christmas Day, were free to enjoy their holidays while spending time with friends and family. Harry Potter had an Occlumency lesson with his most hated professor. He didn't even have the support of his friends. Hermione and Ron were spending the holiday at the Burrow as they celebrated their engagement.

It had been a pleasant morning in Grimmauld Place with Remus visiting. But Moony had to leave on work for the Order and Harry was once again alone.

"Legilimens!"

Harry staggered to his knees, cursing himself. He should have known that failing to appear for his lesson would not be idly accepted. Roughly, he shoved the professor from his mind. The image of himself sulking in his room was paramount in his thoughts. Harry's glare was met by a sneer from the Potions Master.

"Legilimens!"

The younger wizard's thoughts ruffled past, a scant pause at each scene of activity between himself and the other students he'd tried for a relationship with, including his single lover. Harry could only pant for breath after forcing an end to the intrusion.

"You're a perverted bastard, Snape."

Snape only smirked. "Your definition needs expanding, Potter."

It was Harry's turn to shout out the spell and force his way into the other's mind with all his rage to guide him.

"Legilimens!"

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Remus knelt in the center of the room, fully nude except for a charm dangling from his ear. The silver glinted in the noon sunlight as the dog-shaped earring turned in an unseen breeze. The werewolf's head hung slightly towards his chest before being dragged up by a long-fingered grasp in his hair.

Snape didn't ease his harsh grip even as he thrust his erect cock into Remus' parted mouth.

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Harry pulled himself from the memory, already shaking. "That didn't happen."

Snape met his gaze evenly, mot supporting the young wizard's desperate claim. Without the smug acknowledgement that he'd been fooled, Harry trembled.

"I gave him that earring this morning. You never saw it."

There seemed to be something resembling regret on the Potions Master's face as he reached out. "Mr. Potter, calm yourself."

Harry jerked backwards. "No! He said he had to leave for Order business… He said he'd stay if he could… But he was lying… He just wanted to leave so you could fuck him."

Harry was openly sobbing, gasping his words out roughly as he forced his pain into words. The Potions Master lunged to grab the younger man as he turned and darted off. It was an odd chase through the halls of Grimmauld Place that paused only when Harry reached the front door.

"Potter, stop!"

Harry turned, tears still flowed down his face through his voice was dead of emotion. "Why should you care, Snape? No one else does."

Snape rushed forward but once the green-eyed wizard cleared the door, he had apparated away.

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Harry stood in the snow that carpeted Hogsmeade, shivering. He'd been in such a hurry to leave, to escape, that he was lucky to be wearing his shoes. It hadn't been wise to leave, he knew that.

But he couldn't stay knowing that Remus had lied and abandoned him on the holiday. He couldn't stay knowing that Remus had chosen Snape's company over Harry's. Shaking harder as the cold and damp sunk deep into his skin and bones, Harry stepped into the nearest shop door.

It hadn't registered until he stepped inside that he'd come to the same pub in which the DA had first met. Huddling in a corner seat, Harry didn't look up when a mug was placed in front of him.

And that was his second mistake.

"What a very pleasant Yuletide for My Lord this will be."

The oily voice echoed in his ears as the portkey wrench grabbed his stomach when he laid a hand on the mug. The travel ended in an echoing, cold, empty room. Harry fell unceremoniously on his posterior, the mulled butterbeer spilling down the leg of his trousers. Despite his desperate grab for the mug, it didn't return him back to the pub.

When Harry's scar began to ache and the sound of running feet resounded in the oddly Muggle looking warehouse, he forced himself to stand. The yell of, "It's Harry Potter, My Lord," spurred him to greater speed as he ran. Harry was tired, cold, confused, emotionally exhausted, but oddly dissatisfied with the prospect of his possibly impending death.

Despite his depression, he wanted to live.

Darting through an exit, Harry realized he was in a Muggle industrial district. However, from the guttural voices shouting in an unknown language, he was far from home. Harry rushed into a new building, moving around Muggles that attempted to stop him, up staircases, and through doors.

There was heat here, a deep stifling heat. Harry found himself on a metal walkway over deep red, roiling vats. He gasped for air, wrenching his hands back from the rails as the metal stung at them. Sweat rolled off his brow and he tossed his head in search of a way out. A fresh burst of pain across his forehead drew his attention to a pale figure that had joined him on the walkway.

"Harry Potter."

Despite the lack of a single S, his name had a certain sibilance when spoken by the Dark Lord.

Harry only scowled and screamed out, "Can't you just leave me in peace?!"

Insidious chuckling isolated their position from the noise of industry.

"You'll find peace in the grave, boy."

Abused, bowed, and nearly broken, Harry almost gave up. With the last of his reserves, he snarled out, "Fine. But you'll join me."

Voldemort tried to stop the spells being cast by his opponent but Harry had not aimed at the wizard, instead he rapidly severed the supports on their precarious foothold. Ignoring the screams and sounds of fighting elsewhere in the building, Harry struck at the second to last guide-wire and the section of the walkway swung wildly. The Dark Lord's spider-like clawed fingers scrabbled at Harry's ankle as the younger wizard's fingers clenched into gaps on the overheated walkway.

"I will kill you, Potter."

"You first."

Harry kicked out viciously and repeatedly, knocking the Dark Lord's grip loose. He dangled one aching hand as his enemy dropped screaming into molten metal. Harry turned his head, pressing his face into his bicep as he considered whether to give up. He had, after all, done what the world expected of him.

"Harry, give me your hand!"

The green-eyed wizard looked up to meet the amber-flecked gaze of Remus Lupin. Clenching his teeth on a wave of pain, Harry didn't reach out and didn't respond.

"Harry, please! Before you fall!"

He glanced down, still silent. It would be swift, faster than most poisons, and easily classified as an accident for the public. But suddenly that choice was gone as a constricting grip lashed around his wrist.

"Don't be an imbecile, Potter. No student has yet died in my care."

Harry's manic chuckles twisted into desperate sobs as the Potions Master dragged him to safety.

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