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Inter Vivos	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 42948 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter
Seventeen�Stories

�� Mr.
Potter? Would you come to my office for a moment?�

�� Of course she�d choose a moment when no one
else was around, Harry thought, and hoped that Umbridge had not noticed the
subtle stiffening of his spine. Despite the amount of time he�d spent listening
to her lecture about loyalty to the Ministry, he still had no real idea how
observant she was. He�d had to give his attention to other things this year.

�� Look at it this way. She was clever enough
to take you by surprise, and that�s quite enough.

�� Yes, of
course, Madam,� he said, turning around and following her up the stairs.
Umbridge paused to give him a sickly sweet smile.

�� Oh,
please, call me Professor.� She touched the pink bow in her hair and giggled.
�I never feel that I�m old enough to be called Madam yet!�

�� Harry
managed to smile back, but his heart was beating nervously and he was trying to
total all his possible allies in his head and not finding many. Draco�s at home for the Christmas holidays,
so are Ron and Hermione. Professor McGonagall went down to Hogsmeade at least
an hour ago. God knows where Dumbledore is.

�� Yes,
Umbridge had chosen her time well.

�� Resigned to
enduring at least one private lecture on the necessity for Our Hero to stand up
and support the Ministry, Harry followed Umbridge to her office. The walls were
covered with enchanted plates of moving kittens, most of them meowing or
grooming themselves or asleep; Harry hoped Umbridge would take his sideways glance
at them to be one of fascination and not one of fascinated revulsion. Umbridge
sat down behind her desk, gestured Harry to a chair, and beamed at him. �I�m
going to talk to you about something very important, Harry,� she said, and
lowered her voice mysteriously. �Very important.
Do you know what that might be?�

�� Er,� Harry
said, and tried to look interested and blank at the same time. �Not really,
Ma�I mean, Professor.�

�� Well,
well, you haven�t had to deal with personal appeals of this sort, much.� Umbridge
smiled at him, and Harry thought she was trying to look kind, but it only made
her appear constipated. �But now, the Minister is planning an important strike
back at You-Know-Who, and he needs the support of everyone involved.�

�� The
Minister is?� Harry asked,
astonished. Dumbledore hadn�t mentioned anything about this, which could only
mean Dumbledore didn�t know, which wasn�t very much like Dumbledore�

�� Or he doesn�t want you to know. He�s trying
to preserve your childhood again, the great bearded git.

�� Harry felt
a flash of discomfort that turned into disgust, and he decided that, if
Umbridge was offering to tell him, then he
saw no need to turn away from the information. He would get it one way or
the other, and just let Dumbledore try to stop him. He leaned forwards. �What
is he going to do, Professor?�

�� Umbridge
patted her bow again and turned her neck to the side as if she wanted Harry to
admire her. Mental, Harry thought,
but it was getting information out of her, so he didn�t mind so much. �Well,
most of it is secret, of course, but a large part of it involves casting a
spell that identifies the Dark Marks,� she said. �I don�t mind telling you
about that, young man, because you must already know about Dark Marks and you are intimately involved in the war.�

�� A spell that�I wonder if Snape will be
affected? But then Harry realized that he had no means of knowing, and he
didn�t really care anyway. Let Snape be affected. Harry was willing to take it
as payback for what Snape had done to him, even if he had no means of being
connected with it directly and no means to make Snape know Harry thought of it like that. If the universe wanted to take
revenge for him, it could.

�� That�s
good to know,� he said, and tried to make his voice sound calm and adult, as if
he heard things like this every day, rather than Professor Umbridge having
given him something he�d been waiting for. �But I don�t see how I can help. I
mean, I�m still too young to fight.�

�� Umbridge
cocked her to the side and tried to look wise and knowing, which in turn made
her look rather as if she were about to regurgitate her food. She had an
unfortunate face, Harry thought, there was no way around it. �That depends
entirely on how you look at it, doesn�t it?�

�� Harry felt
his breath catch. This was it, he was
sure, the chance he had been hoping for but which Dumbledore would never let
him take. �The Minister would let me fight?�

�� He thinks
you could help,� Umbridge said, nodding emphatically. �If nothing else, you can
survive the Killing Curse, and that would be a great inspiration for everyone
involved.� Her voice turned soft and coaxing. �There�s just one little
condition that you have to fulfill before you can fight, Harry.� Harry tried to
ignore the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up when she called him
that, but it didn�t work very well. �It�s a condition everyone will have to
fulfill, so don�t feel like we�re singling you out.� She smiled and took a
large inkwell and an even larger red book out of a drawer and set them on top
of her desk. A moment later, a huge quill joined them. It looked like it came
from an eagle�s wing.

�� What is
it?� Harry asked. He wished he didn�t sound so nervous. What if he sounded that
nervous when he went to fight Voldemort? Voldemort would probably laugh his
arse off, and Harry could only hope the laughter killed him.

�� An oath of
loyalty,� said Umbridge, and opened the book to a certain page. Signatures
filled it that looked as if they were made of blood. The ink must be red, Harry
thought. �You say that you�ll fight for the Minister and won�t betray him, and
then you sign your name.�

�� Harry
blinked for a moment. �That�s all?� he asked. It sounded so simple, which of
course meant there was a catch. There was always a catch when the Dursleys
asked him to do anything this simple.

�� Yes.�
Umbridge bowed and simpered and smirked. �You speak the oath aloud. Then you
sign your name.�

�� Harry
swallowed and looked at the inkwell. He wished he could cast a spell to see if
it was cursed, but maybe the curse was in the quill or the book itself. And
anyway, he doubted he could use his wand without Umbridge�s noticing.

�� He wrestled
with himself for a moment. He wanted to do this so badly. The prophecy said he had to be the one to fight Voldemort,
but he didn�t know if he could do that this year. Dumbledore wouldn�t let him
leave the school, he�d said nothing about extra training, and he would probably
stick Harry back with the Dursleys this summer. And Harry didn�t know if he
would see another wizard between June and September.

�� But he just
didn�t know enough about the oath the Ministry wanted him to take, or the book,
or the ink, or the quill. What if he did something wrong in trying to make sure
that he could fight, and that meant he couldn�t fight anymore? What if the oath
gave the Ministry control of him? That was probably paranoid, but Sirius said
that seeing curses everywhere was a good way to survive, and Harry reflected
that he would probably know.

�� No,
thanks, Professor,� he murmured.

�� Umbridge�s
smile dropped away from her face. �What are you saying, boy?� she asked
harshly.

�� I�m saying
that�that I don�t know enough about the oath.� Harry looked at the book. The
signatures gleamed and flamed as the light caught on them, and Harry glanced
away, uneasy. �Sorry. I�d like to fight. But I�d like to know more about the
oath first. Can I talk to the Minister?�

�� Umbridge
swelled up for a moment like a toad trying to call a mate. Harry bit his lip so
that he wouldn�t smile. It wasn�t that difficult. He felt wretched. What if he
was giving up his best chance to fight?

�� And then it
wasn�t at all hard not to smile, because Umbridge had her wand out and pointing
at him.

�� Harry
reacted without thought, the way that Sirius had drilled into him. He jumped
out of the chair and rolled under it, whilst Umbridge�s spell, whatever it was,
made the cushion of the chair waffle back and forth with a strange sound above
him.

�� He knew the
door was locked already, so he didn�t think about trying for it. Instead, he
snatched his own wand out of his pocket and snapped, �Expelliarmus!�

�� The spell
went awry because of the angle he was aiming at, and Umbridge retained control
of her wand. She advanced towards him. Harry sprang to his feet and began backing
up and circling at the same time, trying to put the chair and then other
obstacles between them. But Umbridge�s office wasn�t big, and most of the
�furniture� in it was the cat plates hanging on the walls, not something Harry
could use as a barrier.

�� Mister
Potter,� Umbridge whispered, and she was smiling again. Harry knew that
couldn�t be good, especially because this smile looked the way he thought it
was supposed to, wide and scary. �You have no idea how much the Minister wants
you on his side, how much we need you.
He has empowered me to use any means necessary to secure your cooperation.� She
paused. �Any means necessary,� she repeated.

�� If the mere
repetition was supposed to convince Harry, it didn�t work. He�d heard Snape
repeating things too many times to believe her. He sneered at her.

�� That�s the
way you want to play, is it?� Umbridge�s breathing sped up. �Crucio!�

*

�� The ward
had been ringing for long moments before it roused Severus out of his brewing
haze.

�� He looked
up and blinked, mind still occupied with thoughts of the potion that he had
once meant to use on Seamus Finnigan and now was trying to turn into a new but
still �harmless� weapon for the Dark Lord, and then whipped around and stared
at the back wall of his office. One of the wards there, a jagged lightning bolt
shape that hung frozen on the wall and normally looked like a scratch in the
stone, was shaking now and blazing and ringing with a high-pitched tone.

�� He�d had up
several wards that would allow him to detect the use of Dark magic in Hogwarts
for years now. It took him time to remember what this particular one, which had
never rung, was for.

�� And then he
remembered, and swore and began to run. He was only glad that it was the
holidays and he had no students about to explain his actions to.

�� When Dumbledore
had decided to allow Moody�or, as it turned out, Moody�s substitute�to use the
Unforgivables within Hogwarts, Severus had assented in public, but constructed
a private warning system of his own. If Moody ever used Unforgivable Curses in
his office on someone with human flesh, rather than a spider or a mouse, then
an alarm would ring and alert Severus.

�� And though
the man was gone, the ward remained, because Severus had been wise enough to
put it on the office and not on the person.

�� He imagined
Umbridge with one of his Slytherins trapped under her wand and ran faster.

*

�� Harry
hadn�t known there was pain like this.

�� Yes,
Voldemort had tormented him. Yes, the Dursleys had caused him hunger pangs that
he thought were the worst thing he�d always feel. But, as if to prove that life
hated him all the time and he
shouldn�t give up on estimating its malevolence too early, this was worse.

�� It felt as
though his muscles were being pulled away from his bones. Harry tried to aim
his wand, but he lost control and it rolled under Umbridge�s desk. Smirking,
the bitch picked it up. Harry tried to concentrate on her and wave his hand and
curse her that way, in hopes that his practice over the summer might have made
him good enough to do that without a wand, and he couldn�t do that, either.

�� And worst
of all, he was screaming.

�� He was so
weak that he couldn�t even hide his pain, and that drove him absolutely mad.

�� I can keep
doing this,� Umbridge said softly, and somehow Harry could hear her, even under
the broken little cries he was making. �I can keep doing this, until your mind
snaps and you sign anything I ask you to. And there are people who can use your
body and magic against You-Know-Who, and who will, and who won�t ask
questions.� She smiled, and that was another smile that looked like it was
supposed to, this time like the rictus on a skull. �The amount of time anyone
can bear the Cruciatus Curse and still stay sane is ten minutes. It�s been two.
Shall we go further?�

�� Harry
wanted to close his eyes, but pain was stretching them open, and he couldn�t
look away from Umbridge. She waved her wand with a gleeful little smile, and
the agony seemed to double in intensity. Harry felt his body shudder, and
wondered what new humiliation he was storing up for himself now. Pissing his
pants?

�� And then
the door of the office slammed open, and there was a long, wordless roar, which
reminded Harry of a show he�d seen on the telly once about a ship in a storm.
The wind ripping through the sails had sounded like that. He craned his neck,
trying to see, hoping against hope that Sirius had ridden in on a broom to his
rescue.

�� A moment
later, the spell cut off, and he dropped limply to the floor. Harry promptly
stretched his neck, took a grateful breath, and then reached out and Summoned
his wand to him with a whispered Accio.

�� All that
time, he was struggling to hear what was going on. He had to hear as soon as
possible, or Umbridge might manage to convince whoever had interrupted that
this was all a mistake and Harry needed to
be punished. Unless it was Sirius, of course, but she could probably convince
anyone else. Harry had seen that happen with the Dursleys time and time again.
Most people were willing to be persuaded that he was a troublemaker.

�� He was so
surprised when he recognized Snape�s voice as the other one that he froze for a
moment, but then he whispered for his wand even more urgently. If Umbridge
could convince anyone in Hogwarts
that he deserved Cruciatus, then Harry knew Snape would be the one.

*

�� Severus
flung open the door, fully expecting to see one of his Slytherins who had
stayed for the holidays arching his back in midair due to the Cruciatus�he had
known it was the Cruciatus Curse and not some other the moment he heard the
screams on the stairway�

�� And saw
Harry Potter instead.

�� The care that
he might have used at a time like this was swept away by the bright, blinding
stream of his rage. This situation was too outside the norm for him to have a
coherent plan already prepared and waiting, and at the moment, all he could
focus on were Lily�s eyes, bright with pain.

�� What is going on here?� he inquired
icily, but loudly enough that he could catch Umbridge�s attention over the
boy�s screaming. He had to glance away from Potter. If he went on looking at
him, then he would not be answerable for his actions when it came to the cunt.

�� Umbridge
spun around to face him at once, and opened her mouth wide when she recognized
him. Her tongue flicked back and forth like a toad�s dodging after flies. But
she offered no explanation, and so Severus acted as he was fully authorized to
act when he, a professor of the school, confronted another professor wantonly
heaping abuse on a student. He flicked his wand and said in a tone that
revealed more than he liked in its coldness, �Finite Incantatem.�

�� Potter
dropped to the ground and lay there for a moment, chest heaving. Severus
considered him out of the corner of his eye as he waited for Dolores to speak.
Trembling hands, limbs still shaking with minor convulsions, glassy stare and
clammy forehead�he was going into shock, but he could still whisper the
Summoning Charm and look about anxiously for his wand. Permanent nerve damage
if it remained untreated, but it wouldn�t. Severus himself would be responsible
for that.

�� So Harry
could wait whilst he looked at Umbridge.

�� She was
trying to smile, but her sickly sweet cover had been blown, and she was wise
enough to know it. �I was only disciplining the boy, Severus,� she said, and
made fluttering little patting motions with her hands as if she were trying to
soothe an invisible cat. �He had a chance to help the Minister. He refused, and
pronounced treason besides. I thought it best to teach him that, in an
atmosphere of war like this, one is with Minister Fudge or against him.�

�� Is that
so?� Severus�s gaze had fallen on the red book on her desk. He recognized the
red ink at once, of course, in the row of marching signatures on the open page.
Signatures of the damned. Whoever signed with that ink gave themselves out to
the Ministry to be little more than automatons, their magic and their bodies
only instruments to fulfill whatever oath they had made. Severus immediately
narrowed his eyes and scanned the page up and down, but he made out none of the
messy scrawl he was used to seeing at the bottom of Potions exams and essays.
He could not breathe for a moment with the relief that constricted his throat.

�� Umbridge reached
over and shut the book. Her smile had grown weaker still. Every step you take to cover your tracks, Severus thought, holding
her eyes and trying to ignore the boy�s raspy whispering behind him, is only one more sign that reveals you to
me.

�� Yes,� she
said. �And it got a bit out of hand, I�m afraid.� She bowed her head, and the
bow in her hair flopped forwards like a dog�s drooping ear. �But I meant no
harm, Severus. I was only trying to teach him a lesson.�

�� Once, he
might have believed the lie. It was that more than the obvious fact that she
was lying which made Severus turn and face Potter. He knew he couldn�t keep his
face straight and serene in front of Umbridge at the moment. �Are you hurt,
boy?� he asked, in an emotionless tone that would fool most of the people who
heard it. Severus hoped its lack of a sneer would make it speak otherwise to
Potter.

�� But then
Potter looked up at him, his eyes wounded and wide, and Severus knew that the
barrier between them still stood, the wall of distrust that would keep Potter
from noticing any change in him until he had to. He only twitched his head,
eyes never leaving Severus�s wand, and ignored the evidence of his shaking
hands.

�� The way he would expect me to ignore it.

�� The boy
needed directness. Open statements. Comfort. Truths that he could not distrust.
Severus had known that for a month now, and yet he had tried to deny it. Draco
would be back in a few days, he had told himself. The boy�s friends would
return. Black had visited him soon after most of the students went home. He
would make it. He did not need Severus,
not in the way so many of his Slytherins had so often needed him.

�� But there
were no more lies possible. Hiding would not work anymore. And in that moment,
Severus silently accepted the burden and the way it would change his life.

�� He had been
forced to the brink of his resistance, but as long as he chose this fate for
himself and controlled the time when he spoke to Potter about it, it did not
have to come out that way. No one else had to know he�d been forced. He could
maintain his dignity without sacrificing his pride.

�� And that
made all the difference.

�� He turned
back to Umbridge and said, �I will believe that you were disciplining the boy��

�� The woman
simpered at him whilst Potter slowly drew his breath in, as if he were scolding
himself for placing faith in Severus.

�� When I
will believe that Albus Dumbledore is the Dark Lord,� Severus said softly, and
then aimed his wand straight at her. He would have liked to do all sorts of
things to her, but if this ever came out, then he needed the ability to say
that he had not performed Dark Arts or Unforgivable Curses himself. What he
used then was a simple and yet devastating spell, one that the Ministry
couldn�t argue against when it regularly employed wizards who used it. �Obliviate!�

�� Umbridge�s
mouth fell open and stayed that way, her eyes staring vacantly past Severus�s
head at the far wall. Severus permitted himself a small, cold smile as he
reveled in the thought of all the things he could
do to her. Of course they would not happen, but that single moment filled
with extensive imagining made him nearly as satisfied as if they had.

�� You will
remember nothing of summoning Mr. Potter to your office,� he said, quietly but
firmly. He had only a small window of time before she began to wake from the
Memory Charm and form her memory of what he was saying as words instead of
events. �You will only know that you pulled the book from its drawer to brood
happily over it, and perhaps you may dream
of summoning Mr. Potter. But you know that the Minister is not ready for a
step that drastic yet. When you look at the clock, you will be surprised at how
much time you lost in the contemplation of the book. Nothing else.�

�� Umbridge
nodded, and sat down dazedly in her chair, and reached for the book. Severus
watched her a moment, to be sure she was not faking. But no, her heavy
movements and the somnolent blinks of her eyes were consistent with those who
remained under the influence of the Obliviate.

�� Come,�
Severus told Harry.

�� The boy did
not need to be told twice, scrambling after him down the stairs with
commendable alacrity. He had finally managed to Summon his wand back. Severus
wished for a moment that he showed half that speed when Severus called him for
one of their private Potions lessons, but then asked himself, Would you really want him to operate under
such inducement to haste as the Umbridge woman offered?

�� And of
course there was only one possible answer to that. Severus had been prejudiced
and had acted stupid for a long time, but he was not a monster.

�� When they
reached the bottom of the stairs to the dungeons, the boy began to edge away
from him and act as if he wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower. Severus turned
his head and studied him, then spoke in a remote voice, as if summarizing
facts. He would not confess what he had to say to the boy in public, where
anyone left in the castle could hear, and not only for the sake of his pride.
Too much concern too early would only send Potter skittering off. �You will
sustain permanent nerve damage if you do not take appropriate potions
immediately. She held you under the spell for two minutes, didn�t she?� He
would not speak the name of the Cruciatus Curse in public, either.

�� Harry
stared up at him, eyes so wide and glassy that Severus was convinced he would
faint for some moments. But at last he whispered, �Yes,� with no breath behind
the word.

�� Severus
nodded. �Then come with me.� And he set out to his office as if utterly
confident the boy would follow. He would, Severus was almost certain. He would not want permanent nerve damage, or even
the ghost of it, if it stood the chance of impairing his effectiveness in the
war. If that was all he cared about, all he thought himself good for, still it
was better to be unimpaired than not.

�� They
reached his office, and Severus did not shut the door all the way, leaving the
boy to slip in behind him. He didn�t
shut the door all the way, either. Severus did not mind. It was up to him to
make the story he had to tell the boy so compelling that he didn�t leave.
Cutting off an escape route would probably lead to panic just then.

�� It did not
take him long to find the row of potions that prevented nerve damage, and not
only because the organization of his storage cabinet was impeccable. He
regularly used these potions when he returned from a session at the Dark Lord�s
hands. He took a powerful blue Soothing Potion from the shelves as well,
trusting that Potter would not recognize it and thus might be persuaded to
drink it before he realized its properties, the way he would not have with a
Calming Draught.

�� When he
came out into the main room of his office, it was to see Harry sitting with his
head hanging sideways in the chair in front of his desk. Of course he sat up at
once and tried to make believe that such a thing had never happened, but it was
a striking demonstration of how weak he was. And it hardened Severus�s resolve
to the sticking point as little more could have done.

�� He needs too much, and he is too
unsupported. I cannot be Black. I cannot be Draco. I cannot be his friends. But
I can give him something, besides potions, that none of them can.

�� Professor
Snape,� Potter began, and from the stubborn expression on his face, he was
about to say something stupid. Well, Severus did not intend to listen to it.
When Potter extended a hand towards him, he put the first of the potions into
it, and watched in well-hidden amusement as the boy blinked at it.

�� Well?�
Severus asked. �Do you want to avoid permanent nerve damage or not? Drink up.�

�� With only
one more hesitation, Potter tilted his head back and swallowed the clumpy green
potion. Frowning in his best imitation of Poppy�s bedside manner, Severus gave
him the next course of potions and then the Soothing Potion. Potter swallowed
it and shivered a little, his face briefly relaxing into an expression of
bliss. Severus nodded knowingly. The Soothing Potion affected the body, but the
best thing it did, which a Calming Draught could not imitate, was to calm the agitated
chaos in the mind after an experience like Potter�s with Umbridge. It felt
wonderful in the moment it happened.

�� The Cruciatus. That it happened under the
roof of this school, in the face of all the protections Dumbledore meant to
enact�

�� Severus
shook his head. If he dwelt long on what had happened, then he would hunt the
woman down and turn her into a small ball of flesh with all her orifices placed
inside, so that she could sense nothing but torture on her delicate exposed
nerves and muscles. But he had something more important than vengeance to
handle at the moment.

�� Harry,� he
said. Of course Harry�s eyes opened in wary defensiveness when he heard his
first name, but Severus did not intend to let that discourage him. �Did you
know that your mother and I were friends?�

�� Harry
wrenched his head to one side and shook it soundly, apparently thinking he
could make the information false if he just hurt himself enough. �No,� he
breathed. �That can�t be true. You�re lying to me because you want me to trust
you again.�

�� If that is
what I want, lies are a poor means of achieving it,� Severus murmured, and,
controlling himself more spectacularly than he had in any confrontation with
Dumbledore or the Dark Lord for years, sat down on the edge of the desk. �But I
will not hold you here. I will simply speak. If, at any time, you wish to
leave, you may step through the door, and we will not speak of this again�or we
will speak of it only when you wish it.�

�� That is a sacrifice, to promise to be
emotionally available to a Potter.

�� But at the
same time, Severus knew that Harry would not understand things that way, and he
could not force him to. He could only meet his eyes evenly, place one hand on
his left sleeve that hid the Dark Mark as a reminder of what he had already
lost, and wait.

*

�� Harry
gripped himself and willed his hands not to shake. He felt as if he were
convulsed with cold, but of course that was because of Umbridge and her stupid
Cruciatus. It couldn�t be because Snape was offering him something he wanted.

�� Well, I didn�t want to hear the story about
how Snape and my Mum were friends. I didn�t know they were friends. But I
wanted to hear a story about my parents, and he�s willing to tell me one.

�� Harry
licked his lips and considered. He had no reason to trust Snape even now. The
potions Snape had fed him could have bad effects an hour later, for all he
knew. Maybe they even made him more likely to believe whatever lies Snape was
about to tell him. That sounded a lot more
likely than him just deciding out of nowhere that Harry deserved to know about
his friendship with Lily Potter.

�� But�I can check it with Sirius and Remus.
They would know whether my mum ever scorned the rest of the Gryffindors, or
whatever he�s about to tell me. Harry relaxed, and tried to ignore the fact
that neither Sirius nor Remus had said much about his mum so far. They were
happy to tell him stories of his father until the roof fell in, and Harry felt
a lot closer to his dad now, but almost every story they told about his mother
turned into a story about James, or about Harry himself, or sometimes about the
wedding.

�� All
right,� he said, but in a sharp tone, so that Snape wouldn�t think Harry being
willing to stay and listen to a story meant he was forgiven. �Talk.�

�� Snape
inclined his head. He looked strange, Harry thought, his uneasiness reviving.
His face was extremely cold and neutral, the way Harry had sometimes seen it
look when he marked essays. He looked as if he were thinking about something
that neither pleased nor displeased him.

�� But I�m in front of him, so I know that can�t be true.

�� Your
mother and I knew each other as children,� Snape began slowly, as if he wanted
the right words. Or as if it were happening in front of him right now, Harry
thought, staring at him. Snape�s eyes were fixed, and the strangest expression
had softened the lines around his mouth and nose. Harry would have said he was
about to smile if he didn�t know better. �I lived in the same town she did,
though not in the same neighborhood. I knew she was a witch the first time I
watched her hover in the air.� Suddenly, his eyes came back to the present and
he looked at Harry. �Your aunt could tell you about that.�

�� Aunt Petunia?� Harry knew he sounded
scandalized, but he couldn�t help it. The mere idea that Aunt Petunia would
talk about witchcraft or magic, even if she had seen her sister perform it, was
just impossible.

�� She knew
me,� Snape said calmly. �She called me �that awful boy� all the time, so she
would probably not remember my name without prompting, but she knew me. My
father was Tobias Snape. Ask her about that name.� A sudden half-sneer
flickered across Snape�s mouth. �My father once chased her off his property
because she was picking flowers that he wanted to keep for my mother. She would
remember that.�

�� Your
father was a Muggle?� Harry didn�t know what made him ask that. After all, it
wasn�t important to the story, and he really wanted to hear more about his mum,
and he already knew Snape was a hypocrite, so why should he be surprised about
Snape�s becoming a Death Eater even if he did have a Muggle father?

�� Yes.�
Snape�s face had folded in on itself again, and he was staring over Harry�s
head as if he wanted to study the wards that Harry was sure were wrapped around
the door, Snape�s free promise that he could leave or not. �My mother was a
witch. Eileen Prince. Once quite proud, though quite ugly. But all she knew was
pain and cruelty. So she married someone who would give her more of both.�

�� Harry held
his breath. Any minute, he thought, Snape would remember he was right there and
hearing this, and then he would kick Harry out.

�� And I grew
up, the child of that unhappy marriage,� Snape continued, his voice barely
above a whisper, �and thought that I was the unhappiest person in the world
until I met your mother. At last I knew what it was like to have a friend. She
was initially only interested in being around me because I knew magic, too, but
when she heard all the details I could tell her about Hogwarts and the
wizarding world, she stayed. And then we became friends beyond that.� He looked
at his hands and waited long enough that Harry thought he�d had time to count
all the potions stains on them.

�� Lily was a
contradiction,� Snape whispered. �Someone who could be popular with the
prettiest girls and the�boys�around
her at the same time as she befriended the outcasts, the ones who had no one
else. Like me.� His hand brushed his left arm. �Occasionally, her popular friends
tried to drag her away from her less popular ones, but she ignored them. If
they insisted too hard, then she stopped spending time with them at all. And no
one wanted that. Lily was the central light of our existences. The flower where
we all fed.�

�� Harry felt
a pulse of longing in him, and he thought he could see his mother as a young
girl, smiling, with Snape on one side of her and his father on the other. He
knew from the pictures in the album Hagrid had given him�the album Seamus had
burned�that she�d had green eyes and red hair. He could see the green eyes
sparkling as she ran, and the red hair swishing behind her.

�� But now the
picture was more complete, because he�d only ever been able to picture her
standing beside his father in wedding robes, or holding a baby version of Harry
himself in her arms, and now he could see her�with Snape.

�� It was
bizarre. But there it was. And Harry told himself to pay attention, because the
story was continuing, which meant that Snape hadn�t noticed that he was still
here yet.

�� She played
pranks with me. She taught me Charms when I struggled with them. She helped me
come up with new potions�she was a Potions genius, your mother.� And Snape
smiled then, a gentle, genuine kind of smile, and Harry nearly fainted. �She
was Sorted into Gryffindor right away, instead of following me into Slytherin
as I�d thought she would, but soon enough I saw it didn�t make a difference.
She was still kind. And it was true that a Muggleborn wouldn�t have been
welcome in the Slytherin House of that era, in any case.� He blinked slowly,
and Harry thought part of his mind was surfacing. �It�s still true, in fact.�

�� Harry
wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. Whilst hearing more about his
mother was wonderful, he couldn�t help wishing that the Hat had hesitated about
her, too, and maybe recommended her for Slytherin. Instead, it sounded like her
Sorting was like Draco�s. And Harry knew from Sirius and Remus that his father�s
Sorting was the same way. Harry still had no idea why the Hat had said he could fit into two Houses.

�� If only I knew that everything about me came
from my parents. Then I wouldn�t have to worry about what comes from�him. Harry
rubbed his scar.

�� And then,�
Snape whispered, �I ruined it.

�� I was
already associating with those I followed into the Death Eaters, practicing
Dark Arts with them. I had a Muggle father, yes, but he was terribly afraid of
my mother�s magic and of mine. I had no reason to emulate him. He�exercised
cruelty and pain towards me as well as my mother.� Snape shifted his shoulders
as if settling a heavy burden.

�� Harry knew
he was staring with his mouth open, which made it more likely that Snape would
notice and remember him, but he couldn�t help it. What Snape had suffered with
his father sounded like what Harry had suffered with the Dursleys, only worse. Of course it must be, Harry told
himself. I could survive what they did to
me, and it sounds like it twisted Snape forever.

�� I
slipped,� Snape said, this time in such a low voice that Harry could hardly
hear him. �I called her�a Mudblood, at a time when I was raging and humiliated,
and her caring felt like a different kind of humiliation. Rather the way you
might react if your friend Granger rescued you from a beating by Slytherins and
then scolded you.� And suddenly his eyes were piercing Harry again, and he
looked as if he�d never forgotten anything at all, never recited that story. He
went on before Harry could protest that he would never call Hermione a Mudblood
no matter what happened, because he didn�t
think that way.

�� After
that,� Snape said harshly, �we parted. She began dating Potter�your father. I
became a Death Eater not long after.� He hesitated, as if wondering whether to
tell Harry more, and then shook his head. �I regret her loss every day. And at
times I see bits of her in you. Another reason to regret that loss.�

�� Then he sat
back, his arms crossed in front of his waist, and regarded Harry as if he were
a potion he was waiting to see explode.

�� Harry
narrowed his eyes. Does he think I�m
going to forgive him just because he was my Mum�s friend once? Ha. He never
treated me like he remembered her. He doesn�t get let off that easily.

*

�� It helped
that Severus had already told that story once before, though of course with a
distinctly different emphasis: to the Dark Lord, when he insisted on knowing
exactly why Severus wanted him to spare Lily. He had done then as he did now,
as he had done when his father screamed cutting words at him. He had removed
his sense of self, the part of his soul that could hurt and ache, into the back
of his mind, and let the other emotions emerge. Those emotions were softer and
prettier, and Severus knew that Harry would appreciate seeing them more than
the usual brusqueness and sarcasm.

�� One part of me must always be hidden.

�� And to tell
the story had been a relief, in a way. Severus had held himself tightly in
check and prevented his present emotions from intruding into the past, but he
had seen no reason to suspend his observing faculty. The boy�s eyes had widened
and shone and had brief glints of compassion.

�� And
longing. Heart-deep, soul-deep.

�� It was
enough to make Severus disgusted with himself, once he let his normal mind swim
back into place. You could have forged a
bond with the boy long since, if you had been willing to relax your barriers.
You are the only one who can tell him this much of his mother. None of the
other friends who knew her well are here. Black and Lupin are of course
concerned with James alone, and his legacy in the boy; they saw her as James�s pretty
trophy and the mother of his child, not a person in her own right. Minerva and
Dumbledore could praise her as a student, but they didn�t know her soul. There
was no reason for them to. Lily was too happy to need their help.

�� As I needed it.

�� But Severus
would not become eaten up by bitterness. That had already taken too much of his
time. Yes, bitterness was a defense, and an effective one. But it had prevented
him from moving forwards. It had blinded him to Potter and the boy�s efforts to
become more than he was; it had blinded him to the abuse. Severus had prided
himself on knowing people just as they were, which was the talent a spy needed
to survive and the one he had tried to teach Draco. But now he knew that he
didn�t know them just as they were.

�� So he
needed to find a different way of relating to them. Telling this story to
Potter was a risk, but not as much of one as remaining blinded. And it might
win him the prize he had wanted most since Lily died: her son�s trust.

�� From the
storm brewing in the green eyes across from him, Severus suspected that he had not
gone nearly far enough to win it all yet. But, whether Harry realized it or
not, Severus�s greatest trial was past. The other sacrifices the boy would
demand from him were small, compared to baring his soul.

�� Just
because you missed my mum,� Harry whispered, �doesn�t mean you had to help me.�

�� Severus
blinked at him. He had not expected that accusation.

�� And you
didn�t need to tear into my mind,�
the boy went on, his voice raising.

�� Ah. This, I expected. �I tore into your
mind to hurt you,� Severus said. �I have no defense other than that.� The words
were not, after all, so hard to speak. He wondered that he thought them so.
Why, when he had managed to swear loyalty to Dumbledore and the Dark Lord in
the same evening? �But when I uncovered the memories of your abuse�� he noticed
the boy still shuffled his feet and hands and canted his head proudly, stiffly,
as if he didn�t like the notion of referring to his suffering by that word ��then
I knew something had to be done. And whilst part of it has to do with the debt
I owe your mother, not all of it does.�

�� Harry
laughed scornfully. �You expect me to think that I�m something to you other
than my mother�s son? Or my father�s?�

�� You have become so,� Severus answered.

�� How?�
Harry folded his arms and gave him a look, as much to say �this should be good.�

�� Severus
grimaced. He did not like to think about the process of Potter�s becoming more
than just another student to him, because it meant he had to expose parts of
himself that were, in some ways, weaker than the part of himself that loved Lily,
because they were more recent�and connected to a living person who could still
hurt him.

�� But he
answered anyway, because he had been wrong,
and this was a potential step on the road to being right.

�� And because
he had seen, from the way Harry and Draco looked at each other before Draco
left for the Christmas holidays, that they had reconciled, and God knew what
his two students, both of whom needed him, would get up to without his guidance.

�� Because of
your courage in facing the basilisk,� he said. �Because you were willing to
take revenge on Finnigan, and then you retracted the revenge, and because I
heard that you might have been Sorted into Slytherin.� Harry started, as if he�d
forgotten that Dumbledore had told Snape that. �Because you became friends with
Draco, and managed to look past his House. Because you came to me for help with
Dark Arts, and did not scorn to learn them as well as the defenses against
them. Because you do have some intelligence, no matter how deeply you bury it. Because
you are a good liar when you need to be.� He hesitated, wondering if there was
a way he could refer to the similarities between them without making Potter
stalk off, and settled for saying, �Because you, too, have known cruelty and
pain, and yet you do not make all those around you suffer it.�

�� In other
words,� Harry said, and there was a note of disbelief hovering in the back of
his voice, �you came to think of me as an honorary Slytherin.�

�� Students. They will see House traits as the
most important things no matter how much we try to discourage them from that.

�� But Severus
had to admit that he was more likely to choose favorite students based on House
traits than most adults, simply because he was Head of Slytherin, and intimately
associated with all the functions of the school. He inclined his head,
therefore.

�� Harry spent
some moments fidgeting. Severus wondered what he would produce next, something
expected or unexpected.

�� You like
me because of something I�m not,� Harry said abruptly. �Something I chose not
to be.�

�� You chose
to be Sorted into Gryffindor,� Severus said calmly. This was not hard, not hard
at all, as long as he kept a tight leash on some of his innate tendencies. He
had to wonder, now, if all the years he had congratulated himself on being so
much in control, he was really trembling on the edge of constant anarchy, but hadn�t
realized it. �You did not choose to be born intelligent, or to know cruelty and
pain.� He tried to meet Harry�s eyes, but the boy looked away from him. �And
other choices, yes, you made deliberately, but they could be called Slytherin ones
as much as Gryffindor ones. Or a mix.�

�� But my
Gryffindor traits should drive you mad,� Harry said, sounding now as if he were
trying to convince himself. �You should want them gone, and they should make
you not care for me at all.�

�� What they have done,� said Severus, �is make me
constantly act in ways that cost me your trust. But that is unacceptable. We
must work together now.�

�� Because of
Voldemort,� Harry said, crossing his arms.

�� Yes,�
Severus said. �And other things.�

�� Harry�s mouth
fell slightly open. Severus wondered if he was the first adult who had
acknowledged the truth of his role in the war to the boy and yet gone on to
insist that he was more than that. Black, of course, would adopt the latter
position without thinking that Harry knew very well about the former.

�� As much as he can know about it without
knowing the full prophecy, of course.

�� I don�t
understand,� Harry said cautiously, but the next moment his eyes narrowed and
he drew his head back like Nagini about to strike. �But I don�t forgive you
yet.�

�� I know
that.� Severus could read the thought shimmering on the surface of the boy�s
mind without using any deep Legilimency.

�� I can�t
trust you.�

�� That blow
struck harder, but Severus simply repeated, �I know that.�

�� And yet
you want to work with me anyway?� Harry looked away and ran a hand through his
hair, following it with an unhappy little laugh. �This is mad.�

�� I have
offered what I can,� Severus said. �It is up to you to make your decision,
based on what I have said and done now, and what I have said and done in the
past.�

�� Why did you
tell Draco?� Harry demanded.

�� Because I
thought he would handle it in the right way.� Severus cocked his head
thoughtfully. �It seems that I was right.�

�� Harry
simply scowled. �And did you go to Dumbledore?�

�� Yes. That was
useless, as I think you foresaw.�

�� Harry got
up and paced back and forth for several minutes. Then he spun around and
pointed a finger at Severus, looking, for that moment, many times taller than
he really was.

�� I don�t
understand you,� he said. �I don�t like you. I don�t trust you. If I take
advantage of what you�re offering me, it�s going to be because I want to, not just because the war
demands it.�

�� And then he
had left the office, before Severus, blinking, could truly absorb the content
of what he had said.

�� When he
did, he gave a small smile, wondering if Harry knew that that statement made
the boy�s possible acceptance of his help more welcome to him.

�� Possible acceptance. You have won nothing
yet, Severus.

�� And there would
be backsliding in the future, undoubtedly. But, for the moment, Severus thought
he could keep himself on this leash when he was around Harry, and do what he
could to persuade the boy to trust him with actions he would see as rational
and non-confrontational.

�� As long as I allow myself to vent my rage
elsewhere, he thought, and contemplated, with dark pleasure, the long
series of detentions that Longbottom would receive.

*

�� Harry didn�t
know how long he walked through the dungeons, his head bowed and his mind
racing. He wasn�t anxious to go back to the upper floors if there was a chance
of Umbridge being out of her office, and he knew the Slytherins left over the
holidays would be in the Great Hall for dinner right now.

�� His mind
whirled and whirled and whirled over the story Snape had told him, and still
couldn�t come to any definite conclusions.

�� I think it was true. At least, it seems a
pretty stupid and useless lie. And so does the idea that he started liking me
for those reasons he listed.

�� But if he wants my trust, then he might lie
to get it.

�� But if all those reasons are lies, what
reason could he have for wanting my trust in the first place?

�� It was a
dilemma, and one that Harry couldn�t even write to Ron or Hermione or Draco
about, for fear of the letters being intercepted.

�� In the end,
he shook his head and strode up the stairs to retrieve his broom. When in
doubt, he flew.

�� As he
circled over the pitch later, the wind tossing through his hair and whipping flakes
of snow into his eyes, he made a�temporary�decision.

�� I�ll let him train me. As long as it�s only
Dark Arts and nothing else, and as long as he doesn�t say anything too mean. If
he does, I�ll leave.

�� And maybe I can get him to brew me a bloody
Dreamless Sleep Potion whilst he�s at it.

�� As he hurled
himself at the ground, Snape�s words about him being a mix of Slytherin and
Gryffindor traits came back, and connected with the thoughts he�d had earlier.

�� Maybe I�m both Slytherin and Gryffindor just
because I am, and not because of my parents or Voldemort. Just because I�m�me, and that�s who I am.

�� Harry
landed and stood there briskly rubbing his arms. He couldn�t say why the
thought of being something for himself, rather than in relation to his parents
or his enemy, made him tremble more than the snow had.

�� But he knew
he didn�t want to think about it. He set off at a trot for Hogwarts.

*

�� Mangacat:
Thanks. I wanted a reason for the boys to miss their feelings, and in this case
I think I gave them one.

�� Sneakyfox:
Thank you!

�� SP777: I
really don�t think I can do much cuter than that without making it sickly
sweet.

�� Inter Vivos
means �between living beings.�

�� The story
sounds fascinating. I�ll let you know.

�� DTDY: Thank
you! And, well, Snape decided he would rather leap over the brink than let his
thoughts drive him there.

�� callistianstar:
I think of it as something Ron and Hermione figured out fairly fast, but which
I forgot to put into the story.

�� And thank
you! I had a lot of fun characterizing people in that last chapter that we
haven�t seen much of in the story so far.

�� Luminita:
Thank you! As for the realization, I�m afraid that will be delayed until next
year.

�� minn yun: Thanks.
I think it will be not quite as unique after this chapter, but Snape and Harry
did need to move in the direction of reconciliation.
- 16
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Inter Vivos