An Abstract Asylum

Chapter one: It is nothing

The spicy aroma prickled his nose while Severus Snape stared at his cup. His hands absorbed the warmth of the tea and the reflection of his face was seen in the liquid. It wasn't a nice sight: even in the slightly distorted mirror-image, he could still see many flaws.

With a small flick of his wrist, the image disappeared. The corners of his lips curled up a little and the cup was raised. A small sip was taken and the flavour and scent, not entirely familiar, flooded his tongue and nose. He swallowed and set the white porcelain back on the small table with a quiet sigh.

This tea certainly tasted different, contradicting the appealing aroma; it wasn't particularly pleasant. Snape scratched a quick, invisible mental note to not choose this flavour again on his next visit.

He exhaled a little harder than necessary when he thought about the many tea visits he had the fortune to experience. And the future ones.

Snape glanced to his left and saw that the man sharing his company was munching on a half-eaten biscuit – his fourth one – while he turned another page of an old book. A small laugh, and then the book was gently closed.

There was a silence for a moment.

"And?"

Severus was trying to sound nonchalant, but Albus knew him too well. He knew that Severus was curious to see how he would react.

"It is... interesting."

Albus gazed at the other. Severus kept his face neutral, but an amused gleam could be detected in his dark brown eyes.

"Is it?" Severus asked.

"Yes."

A few seconds passed and when Albus watched Severus, he saw the other trying to conceal a small grin. Albus gently put the book down on the small table and swallowed the rest of the biscuit.

It had been a while since Albus saw that familiar expression and gleam: such a genuine, yet concealed smile. Severus had never been an open person. Everything was kept hidden and he behaved only in the most logical and, in his opinion, appropriate way.

After he had accepted the invitation, repeated numerous times, to become the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, Severus would occasionally show his true feelings or voice his inner thoughts. These occasions were rare, even back then, and now becoming even more so. Every time when Albus met his youngest colleague, Severus seemed to close another small, almost imperceptible part of his mind and soul, replacing it with the mask of impassiveness.

Even now, when Albus subtly studied Severus, he had successfully become an epitome of silence and absolute control over mind and body.

Snape drank the last dregs of his tea, stood up and looked at the cover of the book, the title dull. The movement brought Albus out of his reverie, and he stared across the room at Severus.

"You are leaving?" he enquired, trying to sound conversational, and perhaps slowing his retreat.

"Yes. It's quite late."

Snape moved the door's handle. The Headmaster watched his back for a moment, before he stood up and accompanied him to the next door.

Snape stopped, his fingers holding the round, wooden material, and looked at the other.

"You know, Albus... you are a bad liar," he murmured.

Albus widened his eyes while Severus closed the door, surprised at his remark. But what had surprised him more was the small smile and the amused, pleased tone that had touched Severus' soft voice.

Severus wasn't someone who would act rashly: he had perfect control over his movements and thoughts. At all times, he seemed to plan them. He said only what was necessary, showed facial expression only if he truly believed there was something to gain from it. And he was an observer, a quiet observer: he liked to watch things.

This personality trait could be unnoticeable sometimes; if the other person didn't interest him, he would quickly focus his attention on something else. That wasn't to say he was easily bored. If something wasn't challenging enough mentally, Severus was always on the look out for a better challenge.

When he found such a challenge, of course, Severus would scrutinize everything. Albus was one such challenge.

Severus would always try to read and understand Albus' actions and reactions; always examining every movement, expression, sound and word. He tried to do this as subtly as possible, but he didn't know that he was facing someone who could be an equal to him. Whatever Severus would see, Albus would see too in him. When Severus had solved another mystery, Albus had figured out another answer in the big, deep puzzle box. If Severus thought he understood something of him without compromising himself, Albus would receive various understandable signals in return.

Severus documented Albus. Albus had done the same, but without Severus' knowledge. And after years of patience, restraint and examination, but mainly patience, Severus had begun to open up.

Severus had changed, since then, and Albus was quite pleased that he was a helping factor. At first, things hadn't been easy; Severus was very reluctant, coming up with excuse after excuse to keep Albus at a comfortable distance, but never comfortable for Albus. When Albus dared to take a step closer, he would step back twice the distance.

But, as Severus would soon learn, Albus was persisting. Very persistent. With every small talk, dialogue, smile, and each tea invitation, Severus was slowly changing. After years of prodding and nudging, Albus had finally seen a reaction, and one of his wishes had finally been granted.

After they had both, but mainly Severus, with Albus' assistance, climbed over the slippery wall, all went better. Severus showed different gestures when they were in private: Albus would almost never be stopped, the barriers were less firm and fewer in numbers, Severus took the initiative to begin a conversation – but that was rare, even now – and Albus noticed a broader range of emotions and thoughts. But Severus wasn't showing a similar behaviour in someone else's company. Even Minerva, a good friend, Severus would still have some restraints and cautiousness. Minerva had commented this on numerous occasions, thinking that if it were pointed out to Albus, Severus would soon change his attitude.

If he could, he would do it, of course. But, would Severus want that? Minerva and Severus had always had something that was more than a teacher and student relationship, but he would always keep some distance and indifference. Even when they became colleagues, Albus noted that Severus had not changed. Not much.

A more pressing question was, would he, Albus, want it? Ask a stranger to secretly observe Severus and Albus together, and they would immediately think that this pair was sharing more than a superficial bond. Ask Albus and he would answer, without a pause, that this bond meant very much to him, and was one of the few he refused to trade or sacrifice for anything else.

It was strange, but Albus couldn't picture Severus acting in the same manner with someone else. It would feel... unnatural and forced. This was good, because Albus was sure that if such a bond was shared with someone else, he would feel unpleasant emotions. Not toward Severus, of course, but toward the other: the person who dared to infiltrate the closeness he shared with Severus... only a fraction of a second he would think this, though.

Thinking back, Albus sometimes struggled to remember the man Severus had used to be... now, he saw only the Severus that he had created, when once upon a time, he would have agreed with the majority: Severus was rude, forbidding and impossible to be with.

But now, Severus was changing again, back into his old self.

The signs were so subtle that an outsider wouldn't notice a difference, but Albus had seen it all.

He had attempted to ignore them. Severus had a changeable nature. He could be content and relaxed, and the next moment, he would abruptly express anger and irritation. At first, these constant mood swings had shocked and surprised Albus, but he had come to accept it: simply because it was Severus.

But, after a week, they became more noticeable, and he could ignore them no longer.

This evening, he had carefully raised this subject, but Severus had gently steered their conversation to another direction. He understood the subtle message.

He had felt his anxiety diminish, just a little, for he had seen some reassuring signals as the day had progressed. For example, how Severus had bid his farewell this evening. The unexpected words and the glimmer of cheerfulness in the younger man's eyes still made him smile and did begin to melt any doubt he had.

But still, he wasn't entirely convinced. Severus had been light hearted tonight, but that did not mean that his troubles had suddenly vanished: it was too short a time of period to generate any conclusive results.

Then again, maybe it was nothing.

Albus slowly sat down in his plush couch and stared at the carpet.

It was nothing. It was his concerned mind playing tricks with him and deceiving things. It was an old man's excessive and unnecessary worry about every small change in his friend. It was the result of old, but clear fragments, mingling with and manipulating present ones.

Yes, it was nothing.

As Snape was sitting on the hard chair, his mind was beginning to think about the happened things, a few hours ago.

He knew something was slightly off when he heard the jubilant greeting. It sounded... forced, and the tea wasn't summoned, even after minutes. Instead, the Headmaster began to talk, or more specifically, ask disguised questions; first trivial ones, and then gradually moving toward Snape's comfort zone.

With each question, Snape felt comfort seeping away, and when he heard a subtle comment about his changed behaviour, he felt panic and fear. He had been trying to act normally, but it was very difficult. He had been thinking about so many things recently, and some had still captured his attention. He couldn't trust himself to stay impassive; it was too difficult to do many things at the same time, so he used one of his tactics when someone came too close: distraction.

Snape quickly asked the Headmaster a question. After the answer, albeit saying after a pause and a stare, he delved deeper in that subject.

He was half-expecting that Dumbledore would repeat his previous enquiry after he fell silent again, the subject Snape had chosen wasn't one that could start a conversation, but he didn't. Instead, Albus summoned tea.

Snape was sure that the Headmaster knew what he had done, yet he had followed the change of direction. He was secretly glad for it.

The rest of the visit went much better. He even had to stop himself from smiling a few times. Which was strange, because that didn't reflect his thoughts. That confused him, because he had felt happiness in the fresh, passed minutes. He had almost been content. But that wasn't right; he should not be feeling happiness. Yet, he embraced it.

This led to another question: if he was suddenly much more relaxed... why was he feeling something different, the complete opposite of happiness, in the first place?

He was doing this again. He stopped that train of thought and focused on other points of their meeting.

He had felt comfortable. This had taken many years of hard work, but before then, he had never been so comfortable.

Recently, too. He had not experienced such contentment for weeks, or even months, but Albus had a habit of bringing a smile on Snape's lips.

The relationship he shared with Albus had changed over the years. He had changed, even though he had almost promised himself that he would not let Albus' influence affect him. He was given something, even though he hadn't asked for it, and certainly wouldn't accept it. His pride would not allow it.

And, although he would never reveal that to anyone, not even to the person who had caused them, he had experienced new emotions and thoughts. Most had confused and frightened him, but most hadn't harmed him, even though he had vowed to himself that he wouldn't acknowledge them and would not allow them to control him.

It was strange how much one person could make such a big difference, but that was exactly what Albus had done.

The people who had had a deciding factor in his life could be counted in mere seconds, and the persons who meant much to him could be expressed with one hand.

Every one of them were on one list, but not on the other.

Except Albus. He appeared on both lists. Not only that. Snape also suspected that he had the most important position. He supposed it wasn't a bad thing that he had no desire to demote him. He didn't object the current order.

But now Snape was afraid that other persons were trying to climb and forcefully shove Albus away. He felt their influences: he had been subtly changing again.

He didn't know when it began. It could have been occurring for a very long time or this could be the first time in many years. But that didn't matter now: the fact that he had noticed it, was weighing heavier than Time.

What he wanted to know was the cause. Why was he changing?

And it was curious that both had changed at the same time.

He sensed, as soon as he had arrived, that his presence was immediately noticed. That, in itself, was strange: he had always been the last person someone would focus on and he could fairly disguise his presence. Two eyes followed him as he walked to the remaining empty spot. Snape had ignored them, but when he stood still he had not other alternative but to stare at them, one of the first lessons that he had learned from him. He began to feel uncomfortable when they didn't avert their attention on his eyes, something that would happen after a few moments: they increased their focus and the distance between them narrowed slightly.

Only when one of his colleagues walked a little forward and turned everyone's attention to her, did he breathe normally again.

As the meeting continued, another pair of eyes, icy grey this time, glanced at him. Their stare wasn't so penetrating, not so unnerving, but still Snape found he could not lower his guard. When both pairs were aimed in his direction, he could feel the anxiety attempting to shatter his chest.

When the meeting ended, he was the first move away from the group. He could feel emotions threatening him, and he didn't know how long he could mountain this outer, cool exterior.

Snape expected a voice, ordering him to stay behind, but no words reached his ears. After a couple of more steps, he expected a hand on his shoulder or arm, stopping his retreat, but no touch was sensed. He only felt two pair of eyes examining his back.

How different, and yet the same that was, compared to a few hours ago, when gentle blue eyes fixed themselves on his back, watching his every move. Snape still didn't know how he could remain comfortable. He had even told him the truth, without a pause in his mind, mingled with emotions and even with curled lips.

Snape breathed deeply, stood up and stretched his back with a small groan, coaxing his muscles to loosen themselves.

This was only the first time and he his mind was already in this state. Not much had even happened, but he still didn't feel complete relaxation.

Snape sat down again while glancing at the clock. He sighed deeply when he saw what time it actually was, and straightened his legs. He ought to rest. He moved to a slightly larger, and thus more comfortable sofa. From the corner of his eye, he saw a more suited couch, but he refused to travel the small distance and the soft texture wouldn't do him good.

Now was not the time to feel content.

Snape quickly lay down, rested his head against the hard cushion and stared at the ceiling.

This would be a long night.

As Albus Dumbledore brought the last bit of his breakfast to his mouth with slight disappointment, the last bite would always bring with it a small sombreness, for it ended something he enjoyed and marked the beginning of a less enjoyable part of the never-ending cycle, he heard a door opening and closing again. He turned his head to gaze at that direction of the sound, and saw Severus choosing the seat with the least amount of steps to take. Stopping his advance, Albus called his name and signalled to the empty chair next to him, reserved for him.

He noticed slight stiffening in his posture, and the eyes' movements were quicker than normal, but he ignored them. When Severus slowly sat down, Albus greeted him in a more proper way. Severus only nodded and glanced at the appeared food with a small scowl.

It was no surprise that Severus made no movement to pick up the utensils. He usually sat further away from Albus, so he could disguise his movements, and Albus knew that the younger man didn't need to consume much food to function properly.

The first few weeks that Severus had arrived at this place, he observed this. In the early days, he kept his mouth closed and thought of all kind of reasons for his lack of appetite, thinking that the problem would be soon resolved. But, when that didn't happen, he asked Severus. The answer surprised Albus, and he couldn't hide his sceptical expression. The result, no illness and weakening of his body and mind, attempted to convince him, but he wasn't easily persuaded. Severus was a Potions Master and a talented wizard: he could easily have taken potions or strengthened himself with a spell.

So, Albus did something that he still regretted: without Severus' consent and knowledge, he shot a diagnose-spell in his direction. When it didn't give a conclusive response, the last resistance broke and he accepted Severus' answer. His tight, invisible grip remained on Severus, but when no change was detected in the next couple of days, he loosened his wrongful hold.

But still, when Albus glanced at him, he was not entirely at ease. A human body needed nutrients. When it didn't come from food, it had to come in another way... such as potions. Severus had ignored them both for many years now, maybe even longer. The result was seen in front of him.

Worse still, Albus was sure that his eating habits were not the only cause of such a thin and drained figure. There must be something else, slowly gnawing at him.

Albus waited for the younger man to talk, but, when he remained silent, he reversed the roles. He asked Severus how he was and told him about an interesting letter he had received this morning...

But Severus remained relatively unresponsive.

Silence wasn't uncommon. Albus came to know that Severus was not the talking type. He desired a quiet, peaceful environment with as few people as possible, or maybe even an isolated place without disturbance. If he did find himself in a crowded place, he didn't fade in the mass, but detached himself from it. If he had the mishap of someone noticing and approaching him, he would respond with only the needed words and actions. If they prodded further, Severus would chase them away with a precise, aimed verbal strike. He could do that very easily: he had many different ways to succeed and knew exactly which method was the most effective.

People soon learned to stay at a range when noticing Severus' presence. Not many had the courage, or foolishness, to come closer. Only a few had the privilege to cross the gap without struggle, even less were allowed to reach out and almost no one would see a different side of Severus, the side that was carefully hidden for most spectators.

In a way, Albus knew that this habit was far from healthy. Humans were social beings, relationships were crucial to survive, but every person was different and not every being should be counted as an ordinary one. And Severus was certainly not an average person. If Severus chose to go against the wind, then that was his choice. Albus respected this and would not seek to change it. Besides, it wasn't having a very bad influence on him, and Albus suspected that Severus was shaped in this way by Past's harsh trials and assaults, that this was his reaction and defence against them. His solution was not the best response, but if it didn't hinder the younger man in a nasty way, then it should be no problem.

That was, until now.

Albus could easily see the slight dips below his eyes, the slower movements and tensed body. He could easily imagine in what manner the black eyes were staring at the table. He only wished he could know which thoughts were anchoring him down.

A sudden thought bounced against him. Albus straightened his back, Could he...

No, that wouldn't work. It could work at another time and place, but not at this early hour and packed place. And... he didn't want to make the same mistake again, for he was afraid that he would find himself delving deeper than necessary, even when the other was still oblivious of the intrusion: Severus' deepest thoughts would remain forbidden territory until he would say otherwise. Having said that, Albus was curious, a small bit, to know what he would find in that unexplored area.

Sounds from every direction brought him out from the depths of his mind: students rose from their places and walked away, their talking and movements amplified, and remaining teachers followed the examples of the young ones in a more silent, less chaotic fashion.

The Great Hall came alive, but not everyone was, as Albus illustrated, and he had no intention to move just yet. Apparently, Albus wasn't the only one: Severus stared in front of him for a long moment, and then, with a deep breath and a small shake of his head, stood up. He was about to take a step, but when he felt Albus staring openly at him, Severus turned his face and parted his lips. No sound escaped, only a puff of air, one that suspiciously sounded like a sigh, Albus noted. He nodded his head toward Albus, in a similar fashion before he sat down, and marched away.

Albus watched him, wordlessly and unmoving, until the door came between them.

This chapter is reposted, and I've changed the summary. Some (minor) things needed to be changed, to prevent contradiction in future chapters. Nothing crucial will be missed, if you've already read the old version, though.

I know that this, first chapter is heavily focused on inner dialogues. I felt that this was needed, to get a view of their thoughts, feelings and the present situation. Don't worry, you will read plenty of dialogues in future chapters.

This story will be my biggest and most challenging project. It will be different from my other stories, partly because of my changed writing style, partly because I intend to focus even more on (the dynamics between) the (main) characters and the main characters' developments, and partly because I want to reach a new goal: an impressive amount of words, after I've finished writing the last chapter.

But, it will also contain... slash. Now, before you run away, please read at least this AN. I know that some do not like pairings which are not canon (trust me, I hate some pairings, too), or are against relationships between two people, having the same gender, but I think that some thoughts are slightly prejudiced, or formed because of ignorance or misunderstanding. Some pairings are given enough space (e.g., not enough background information about them, not enough focus on their relationship) by the original author. The pair which I intend to focus on, is one such pair.

With this fic, I hope you will see a different side of slash. Slash doesn't have to be written in very clear language, doesn't have to be very descriptive and doesn't have to be filled with action. Implications, subtlety, words or actions with double meanings, are key-words here. Slash isn't only about horny (fe)males, having wild, mindless sex whenever they can touch the other's body, OOC actions that are too rushed and illogical, and pairings which are miles away from canon material. I admit that the last one is quite difficult to prevent, especially when dealing with something like the Harry Potter novels. The majority of many, supporting characters are not given as much attention as the title character. This leads much to one's imagination, and vague actions or words can be interpreted in many different ways.

I can already safely say that the first mentioned will not appear in this story. I'm not very fond of bold language, and...well, I'm not very... experienced in this.

I cannot guarantee this, but I will do my very best to avoid the second one. As said before, this story will be the longest one, and I intend to use a large part of it for character development, actions and reactions, and a (slow) increase of tension before important events.

I understand I'm offending some fellow FF authors now, because I've read slash stories which are superb. I know that I have an opinion too and am bound to find other, clashing opinions, and am only targeting my arrows on a select few.

I am not saying that you must all embrace slash now, and plunder the whole HP section, in an eager search to read all the slash stories of your favourite character(s). If you're absolutely against slash (or if my arguments haven't persuaded you), then this story will not be suited for you.

But, if you're still in doubt, then why not give it a chance? You can always stop, if you run against something you don't like.

If you love slash, then I hope that An Abstract Asylum will not disappoint you and your expectations.

If you have any questions so far, want to add your own thoughts about the slash-thingy or if you completely disagree with me (or if you want to review the story itself), then feel free to PM me (or review, whatever works best for you). If you respond, and are part of the third 'group', please keep in mind that I want to see more than one sentence. It doesn't have to be a lengthy page, or making you type for a long period, but I do expect to read sensible words. After all, I am very curious to see which other opinions exist. In response, I'll try to respond as accurately as I can. I won't try to change your opinion, but I'm just very curious to know what your view is on this subject.

Thank you for reading this, and I apologize for the length: I normally don't write ANs of this size.

Before I forget, chapter two is almost finished. Expect an update again, very soon!