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Death and the Open Mind	By : LoupGarou1750 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 3186 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her business associates own the world of Harry Potter. I make no money from this, nor anything else.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
OCTOBER

"I think we should visit your crypt," said Harry for what had to be the thousandth time.

No.

"Dumbledore wanted me to go, you know. He asked me to check on Fawkes, but maybe there was another reason. Maybe—"

Albus Dumbledore is dead. I murdered him, or had you forgotten? You spoke with his portrait, not him.

"Yeah, but maybe—"

There is no painting in Albus' tomb to slip into, therefore his portraits doesn't know a damn thing.

"But maybe Fawkes—"

No. A phoenix cannot bring anything back to life but itself.

"His tears—"

Can heal wounds. My body is not wounded. Poppy would have seen to that, although unfortunately she's done nothing since I was entombed. Had Fawkes been in the Shack he might have done something, but he wasn't. It's not like the damn bird would cry over me regardless.

"Why are you being so damned stubborn about this? You don't know that Fawkes can't, or won't, help. What harm would it do to just go see?"

Have you no concept of how disturbing this might be for me?

"Dumbledore said—"

DUMBLEDORE IS A FUCKING PORTRAIT!

"You're afraid."

Too bloody right I'm afraid!

"You…" But there was no point in continuing, Harry recognized the feeling of absence.

It took him several hours to get over the shock of Snape's admission.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

"I haven't been able to find anything useful," Hermione said in a low voice as she followed Harry into the kitchen. "On the whole it looks like the idea of spirit possession is unfounded — at least spirit possession the way one normally thinks of it — but then there are cases similar to—" she dropped her voice even lower. "—Ginny and young Tom Riddle. I suppose that wasn't technically spirit possession, but I don't know what else you'd call it. Now in Ginny's case, you stopped it by stabbing the diary, but unless you're Snape's Horcrux—"

"For god's sake, Hermione!" Harry was not bothering to keep his voice down; he didn't care if Ginny and Ron heard. "I hope you realise you just suggested I stab myself. I'm not Snape's Horcrux! Don't you think I'd know?"

"You didn't know you were Voldemort's Horcrux," snapped Hermione.

"I didn't know what being a Horcrux felt like. Now I do. I am not Snape's Horcrux. And I'm not possessed. Snape isn't dead, so spirit possession doesn't apply. I told you that before."

It's pointless arguing with her when she has a bee in her bonnet. You know that.

"You stay out of this, Snape! Hermione...oh hell, I'm not going to say this more than once. Go back to the sitting room. As soon as I've got lunch together, I'm going to talk to all of you at the same time."

If you think I'm going to assist you in this mad endeavour, you've got another think coming. Minerva McGonagall is one thing. Your stupid friends are another.

"You know, Snape, considering the friends you had when you were my age, I don't think you've got a leg to stand on calling mine stupid."

"Oh Harry! You never made an appointment to see a Healer, did you? There are things that can be done to help you! I'm sure of it!"

"The only thing that will help me is you getting it through your thick skull that I am neither possessed nor mad! Now go, get out of here. I'll join you in just a minute."

As he'd promised, Snape was Occluding when Harry carried a tray piled with sandwiches into the sitting room. It worried Harry a little, but he wasn't sure the man's participation would help anyway. It wasn't as if Snape knew things about Ron, Hermione and Ginny that no one else knew.

The silence in the room was aggravating — as were the covert glances between his three friends — but Harry was damned if he was going to speak before he was good and ready. Let them stew for a bit longer. God knows he'd had to stew long enough.

When Ron had swallowed the last bite of the last sandwich from the tray, Harry decided it was time. At least by waiting he'd assured himself that no one would die choking. Feeling conspicuous, Harry stood and moved in front of the fireplace, facing his friends.

Rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans, Harry began. "I'm going to tell you something and I want you not to interrupt—"

"Harry, don't," Hermione begged.

"They have a right to know too. Please don't say anything until I'm finished. I've had this conversation twice already — three times if you count Snape — and I'm not having it again."

Scrubbing his palms again, Harry began to pace the small area between the fireplace and where his friends were seated. "You've all witnessed my strange behaviour since the war. You got the worst of it, Ron. I'm sorry you were injured because of me, happier than you'll ever know that you've forgiven me and are still speaking to me. I hope you're still willing to be my friends when I'm done.

"There's no easy way to say this." Harry took a shaky breath. "Snape didn't die that night in the Shrieking Shack. Through the unintentional use of an ancient spell, he...damn it! Will you just hear me out? Please!" Harry exclaimed as Ron whispered something to Hermione."

Grateful that Snape remained silent throughout, Harry finished his story and braced himself for their response. When it came it wasn't at all what he expected: Hermione burst into tears, Ginny looked furious, and Ron laughed.

"Good one, mate," Ron said at the same time Ginny exploded with, "You bastard!"

Although he would have preferred to find out what Ron found so funny, Harry turned to Ginny. "What? Why are you angry?"

"Why? Let's see, Harry. Either you're making this up, in which case you're a bastard, or you're cracking up and haven't thought that fact was worth mentioning to me—"

"That's not fair! I told you I thought I was cracking up!"

"—in which case you're a bastard, or it's true and you haven't thought that was worth mentioning before this, in which case, you're beyond a bastard."

"I'm not making it up! And I didn't tell you because..." Harry faltered. He had no idea at all how to explain.

"Ginny," Hermione began, but was cut off as Ginny whirled on her.

"Don't Ginny me, Hermione! You knew, didn't you? You knew and you didn't bother to tell me either! I've nothing to say to you!" She turned back to Harry. "You can't even say why you didn't tell me. I don't know why I'm surprised. You've barely been present for months. You're always in that stupid room with that stupid Pensieve! No wonder you're going mad, spending all your time in someone else's memories! You're selfish, is what you are! Do you think you're the only one who went through the war, the only one who suffered? Did you never think for a moment if you maybe just talked to me, to Ron, to anyone at all, that we could help you and you could help us in return?"

"Ginny, I..." Harry felt terrible. She was right, of course. All of them had suffered. All of them were still hurting. Ginny bore visible scars. She and Ron had lost a brother. Hermione's parents might never recover their memories, which meant that she might never have her parents again, since they didn't even remember they had a daughter. And Harry, wrapped up in his own problems, had barely spared them a thought.

"You think you're in this alone, Harry? Then be alone. See what it's really like!" Glaring at him through eyes full of tears, Ginny Disapparated.

Once again an awkward silence filled the room. Then Ron said sadly, "She's right, Harry. Sometimes it's about more than just you," and he too Disapparated.

Turning to Hermione in desperation, knowing she too would have seen the truth in Ginny's words, that she too would leave, but desperate to have at least one of his friends understand, Harry said, "Talk to McGonagall, please. She knows I'm telling the truth."

"Oh Harry," Hermione responded. She touched his cheek briefly, such a look of sadness in her eyes, and followed Ron and Ginny.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

Blue shadows of leaves flickered across Harry's face and hands as moonlight streamed through the high window of the garden shed. He didn't know why he was out there in the near dark, but he definitely wasn't sulking. Not sulking, but sad, and more than a little freaked out.

Entirely too reminiscent of the Shrieking Shack for my comfort. Why are you out here wallowing?

"God damn it!" Harry screeched, whirling around, eyes wide as if he would be able to spot Snape in the dim room. "Would you please, please, please not do that!"

One would think you'd be used to it by now.

"Don't think I'll ever be used to it," Harry said quietly, turning his face back to the window. A cloud floated across the face of the moon, obscuring its face as well as Harry's.

"Why me?" he asked after a long pause during which Snape had been uncharacteristically silent. "Why the bloody fuck did you have to choose me?"

I didn't choose you. It was nothing more than circumstance. There was a void and I filled it.

"Ha bloody fucking ha. Leave off, will you? I'm not having a hard enough time without you taking shot after shot after shot after fucking shot?"

Occluding only went so far. Harry could keep Snape from hearing his thoughts, but he didn't seem to be able to block Snape's thoughts completely. Only Snape could do that, and at that moment, the son of a bitch wasn't being accommodating. Big surprise.

This wasn't my choice. I didn't deliberately set out to make your life miserable.

A snort and then silence, both verbal and mental, was all Harry had to offer.

Do you think this is pleasurable for me? Do you think I enjoy it? Do you not realise I would rather be dead?

There's no point in not speaking to me. You're not able to Occlude all the time. Sooner or later you'll have—

Leaping to his feet, Harry smashed his fist into the shed wall as hard as he could and ran, oblivious to the blood dripping from his split knuckles. Miraculously, Snape remained silent.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

Dappled by sunlight, the stream carries a little paper boat with it. In the boat, just like in the story, a little tin soldier stands at attention, wobbling slightly as his bark swirls in an eddy. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the tin soldier bends and sits. Carefully leaning his rifle against the stern, he picks up an oar and begins to paddle, his movements accompanied by a squeal of delight and the sound of clapping hands.

"Did you see, Tunie? Did you see?" Lily excitedly hugs her sister as the paper boat finally drifts from sight.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

Lily peers at Severus' bare arm, examining a long scratch oozing blood. "I told you so," she says with a smile. "You should have let me get him, you're no good with animals, but thanks for rescuing him."

Severus smiles shyly. "He seems happy enough now," he says, stretching his hand out to pet the ball of fluff in Lily's lap, snatching it back as the kitten hisses.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

For a full week Harry didn't talk to Snape, and Snape himself seemed to be absent, except at night when Harry slept and couldn't maintain his mental shields. It wasn't until waking up after the third night's dream, Harry realised these were like no dreams he'd ever had; they were too straightforward. Two more nights passed before Harry understood that Snape was giving him more memories. It had to be Snape's way of apologising. Two days later, Harry stopped Occluding.

It's about time.

"I've only just forgiven you, don't start in on me again."

Fair enough.

After a brief silence Harry said quietly, "Thank you for the memories. That was nice of you."

I didn't do it for you. I've discovered it no longer hurts to think about your mother and so I do. It's been a very long time since I allowed myself this small pleasure. Had I realised you too would get pleasure from them, I would have confined my reminiscences to the hours you were awake and Occluding.

"Twat," Harry said amiably. "You must have thought about her sometimes. You gave me memories of her when you were dying."

Those few simply provided me a scab I could pick at.

"If this is the result, this..." Harry waved his hand, "...forthcomingness, I think I'll shut you out for long periods of time more often."

Next time you do so, I will concentrate my attention at night to memories of Lucius Malfoy — no, perhaps not, I think you'd enjoy that — Lord Voldemort, then. You've seen almost none of those, and I have so many.

"Right," Harry said with a shudder. "No shut-outs. Tell me something about my mother, about you and her, if you like."

And if I don't like?

Harry laughed. "Tell me anyway."

Later, maybe. You should work on the solarium. If you hadn't had your little temper tantrum, it would be done by now.

"Later, maybe," Harry replied, yawning. "I'm feeling dozy." He closed his eyes, knowing Snape would give way eventually.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

When I was ten I thought I would marry her.

Snape words came out of nowhere after an absence of hours. Although startled, Harry was finally growing used to it and managed to not slosh tea all over himself. Striking, he thought, the right note of irritated nonchalance, he replied, "You know, when I said I wanted to talk about my mother, this wasn't what I had in mind. I really don't want to think about you and my mother that way."

If you want to hear anything, you'll shut up and let me tell it my way. As I said, at ten I thought I would marry her. What do children know? Boys and girls who loved each other grew up and got married. At ten I didn't even know what that meant, beyond sharing a house and perhaps having children. In theory I knew where babies came from, but it never actually occurred to me that my parents, or anyone else's parents, actually did that. I also had no idea I preferred boys to girls. I had no male friends. I had no friends at all except your mother. Of course I knew I was different, but I attributed that to being a wizard among Muggles, not to being a poof.

"A little slow on the uptake, then, weren't you?"

How old were you when you accepted your homosexuality?

"I'm not homosexual!"

Even slower on the uptake than I, then, aren't you?

"I am not homosexual."

Spare me your pathetic denials. Have I not explained this to you a hundred times? I'm in your brain, Potter. I know what you think even when you're not thinking at all, which is admittedly most of the time.

"Just because you can force me to think of men when I'm already aroused...it's Ginny that excites me. You can't claim I'm queer because you throw an image of Bill or Sirius into my head when I'm already hard."

Have you forgotten our little interlude in your bedroom? I repeat, I don't create the images, I simply show you things I think have been stored away too long. The minuscule number of women who engage your libido—

"Don't throw that at me again. I don't think of other girls because I love Ginny!"

Snape thought right over him as if he hadn't even spoken. Miss Weasley we know about. Then there's the Chang girl, of course. You know you have either a shockingly bad memory or a completely puerile imagination — most likely the latter. The Chang girl's breasts were nothing like that large. And Nymphadora Tonks? Are you mad?

"I was fifteen! And she was...funny."

You're eighteen, it's time to clean out the attic. And really, Potter, Sirius Black is marginally understandable, even I can admit to his obnoxious good looks, but his Animagus form?

"Shut up! Shut up! That's not true and you know it, you filthy-minded arsehole! You have no right to go rummaging around in my head!"

You're absolutely correct. I have no right, but I have no choice either. For good or ill I'm stuck here until we figure something out. I know you think I live to torment you, but I would much prefer knowing nothing of you whatever. My presence in what passes for your mind brings me much tedium and no pleasure. Unfortunately, we are stuck with each other for the foreseeable future. Now, about...what was he called? Padfoot? Yes, that was—

"You're not funny. I hope you know that." After a solid week's practice, Occluding came so much easier.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the fire flare green. It startled him; he hadn't had visitors in weeks. Rolling onto his side, he was even more startled to see Ron's face.

"Can we come through?"

"Yeah! Sure, of course!" Harry was thrilled; Ron didn't even seem angry, which was completely unexpected.

Ron's head disappeared momentarily and then both he and Hermione stepped through the fireplace, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Ginny?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Harry. No," Hermione replied. "She's still doesn't want to see you."

"And you guys aren't angry?"

Shrugging, Ron said, "We talked to Professor McGonagall." He looked around the room. "Is he here?"

A bubble of laughter welled in Harry's chest. "If I'm here, he's here, Ron. That's how it works."

"May we please speak with him?" Hermione's tone was strangely formal and that made Harry want to laugh again.

Certainly not. I have nothing whatever to say to them.

"I don't have any control over him, but he can hear you if he wants to listen." Pointing at his head, Harry gave his friends a significant look and nodded his head.

Subterfuge, were you even capable of it, is impossible under these circumstances.

"He's listening," Harry grunted.

"Professor McGongagal said—" Hermione began.

"Yeah, well, she's by way of being a friend of his. Shocking, I know. Who'd have ever thought Snape had friends, right?"

"Harry!" Hermione looked appalled and a little frightened, but Ron just laughed.

"Sit." Harry pointed at the sofa and took a wingback chair for himself. "Do you have any idea how glad I am to see you? Not to mention relieved you finally believe me."

Face turning a bit red, Ron heatedly said, "You have to admit it was a bit far-fetched!"

"You might have trusted me!" Harry snapped in return. "After everything we've been through together, you really might have trusted me."

"Honestly, you two. Stop it, both of you! We didn't come here to fight. Professor McGonagall told us about the spell. I've done some preliminary research and haven't been able to find anything at all relating to it, but I have found some things about casting out unfriendly entities."

"No!" Harry was outraged. "You can't even think about—"

"Why not, Harry?" Ron interrupted. "You can't go on like this or you really will end up barking mad! It's Snape, for fuck's sake. Talk about unfriendly entities!"

What compassionate friends you have, Potter.

"I remind you he can hear you, Ron. But it doesn't matter. We find a way to put him back in his body or he stays!"

"You can't be serious? It's Snape!"

"Grow up, Ron! He's not our nasty old professor anymore. He risked more than anyone during the war and you bloody well know it!"

Once again, Hermione intervened. "Yes, we do know it," she said, looking pointedly at Ron. "But Harry, that doesn't mean that you should harbour him if there's a way to get him out."

"Yes, it does," insisted Harry. "It means exactly that! If we can't get him reunited with himself—"

Very touching, I'm sure, but she does have a point. My continued presence is doing you no good.

Rolling his eyes, Harry snarled, "Give up this noble, self-sacrificing crap! You already died once. You'll die again over my dead body!"

There was a moment's shocked silence and then all four of them burst out laughing.

Still gasping from laughing so hard, Ron finally squeaked out, "What'd he say?"

"About what you'd expect, considering his apparent long-standing death wish. He thinks Hermione has a point."

Was it really necessary to inform her of that?

"Whatever research you're willing to do will be appreciated, Hermione. I've been through nearly every book in this house and haven't found anything new."

"No offense, but maybe if I looked," Hermione offered.

"I should have said I've been through nearly every book in this house under Snape's supervision," Harry said pointedly. "There's nothing here. But if you hold on for a minute, I'll go get Prolegomena to the Esoteric Arts." Once again Harry ignored Snape's correction of his pronunciation. "It's where Snape found the original fragment. I looked for something else by the same author, but there's nothing here. Maybe you'll find something somewhere else."

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §

Creating a solarium had been an even better idea than the French windows. It had replaced Snape's room as Harry's destination of choice. Magically generated breezes kept the temperature constant and comfortable in spite of the glass walls and ceiling. Snape seemed to like it too, although Harry couldn't figure out why he would. Or maybe the man didn't care at all; maybe he just liked to keep Harry guessing. That was fine by Harry.

"Tell me some more about my mum," Harry demanded, sure that Snape would refuse as he had done repeatedly.

What will you give me in exchange?

Shocked that Snape was apparently going to go along after all, Harry replied, "Anything you want."

I would say you are being typically reckless, did I not know I can't, unfortunately, do you any actual harm. Very well, Potter, you have a deal. In exchange for information about your mother, you will masturbate for me. We were interrupted previously, as I recall.

"Be serious! You're still trying to prove I'm gay, aren't you?"

That has already been proved to my satisfaction. If you renege, no stories about your mother.

"You've got your deal," Harry said. It wasn't as if he hadn't been hoping for a repeat performance and of course Snape knew that already.

Gather your questions. I will give you exactly thirty minutes to discuss this, and then we will consider the topic closed for eternity.

"You're gay, but the memories you gave, it seemed like you loved her, like you were in love with her. It was more than just the remnants of a childhood crush."

That's not a question. Never mind, I know what you're asking.

There was a pause long enough for Harry to decide he wasn't going to hear any more, but Snape surprised him.

From the first moment I saw her, I knew what she was and I wanted to make her mine. I don't mean simply that I knew she was a witch, or that I wanted a friend of my own, although both were true. I wanted her to be part of me. Not those claptrap romantic images the popular media loves so. Your mother had qualities I wanted. No, that's not quite right. I'm finding it rather difficult to explain. It seemed...

There was another long pause. Harry waited.

She was...she immediately felt to me like my other half. A side of me already gone missing by the age of nine. She knew how to play. To laugh. Things I didn't seem to be able to learn. Later, at Hogwarts, she still seemed to retain the ability to just bloody let go occasionally. She was, like me, quick to anger, but unlike me she was usually quick to forgive. Until pushed too far. Like me she was bright and inquisitive; unlike me she wasn't a swot. All these things felt like things I should know. Things I'd once known but had lost or forgotten. I wanted them back. If I'd ever been joyful, I didn't remember it. Lily had joy in abundance. Ergo, some of what she had was mine and the only way for me to have it back was to possess her.

I miss pacing.

"You sound like a bloody stalker."

I can see how you'd think that, but that's not how it was. People liked your mother. I liked your mother. James Effing Potter liked your mother. Dumbledore, McGonagall. Cornelius Fudge, for god's sake, liked your mother. And I, I am as you see me. Or think me, as the case may be. There is no other way for me to say it. I felt she was part of me, the best part, the part that still allowed for possibilities. When I was with her, I was a better man, trite as that sounds.

"Boy, surely?" Harry snickered.

If you want me to continue, I would suggest you shut your mouth and listen.

I was better. I know I was. But on the outside everything was the same. My life had not been easy, and my nature was not such that I was capable of rising above. But the number of things I didn't say and didn't do because of your mother's presence...not that it endeared me to anyone. Your father and Black saw to that.

"You were in love with her."

I was not 'in love' with her. I was not. I wanted to be her. I wanted her to be me. I wanted to be whole and I thought she was the way. But I was the same stupid boy I'd always been. I said something literally unforgivable.

"She's forgiven you." Somehow Harry was sure of this. His mother would not carry a grudge into the grave.

I doubt that.

"She's forgiven you."

And the end result of my unforgivable sin, she died. Your father died. And you were scarred for life in more ways than the merely physical.

Cocking his head a little, Harry listened to the inflection of Snape's words. Thoughts. Damn it! There should be some special language for this situation.

Good grief. Would you please return to Occluding? I do enjoy my respites from your mental drivel.

"You're not sad. You're angry and guilt-ridden, but you're not really sorry, are you? But no, that's not quite right either. It doesn't matter, Snape. She forgave you a long time ago. For what it's worth, I forgive you too.

I bloody well don't need your forgiveness.

"No. But you've got it all the same."

§ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § §
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Death and the Open Mind