Authors Note: This is a second revision on this story.
Original post date: Jan-09
Revision: Aug-12
I was utterly mortified when I read this again after many years. I hope this revision is more palatable.
Enjoy!
"Look At Me"
Every part of Harry'sbody raged with distaste as he waited for Snape to call him into his office. It was time for his Oclumency lesson.
As the minutes passed, his body started to burn with fury. These lessons were the worst part of his week. They left him feeling drained and abused and every time he saw his potions professor his skin crawled. He hated that Snape had the power to see into his mind. He hated that Snape was malicious enough to gleefully manipulate him with his knowledge. He hated that he was forced to learn this and that no matter how hard he tried, he never seemed to get any better at it.
The door to Snape's office opened silently and a billowy figure stood back to allow Harry entry into the office.
Harry barely had time to put his bag on the floor before Snape had caught his eye and uttered the words that would start the dreaded evening.
"Legillimens!"
Completely off-guard, Harry had no time to even attempt to shield himself. The memories washed over him.
His mother's screams and the desperate shouts of his father. He could hear his own cries and then a flash of emerald light.
A hooded creature lifting its head from the milky-white flank of a dead unicorn. Silver blood pooling around the clearing. The familiar stab of pain in his scar.
Ginny Weasley's vacant face lolling on a stone floor. Tom Riddle's hisses merging with the slithering sound of the basilisk moving towards them.
A shard of green light flying towards him and Cedric Diggory. Missing him. Cedric flying backwards. Amos' hollow shrieks as he clutched at his son's dead body.
"Stop!"
Harry's body was pulled forward slightly as Snape withdrew his magic. Harry slumped; his shoulders hunched, his head down. He folded his arms across his stomach and raised his feet onto their toes, lifting his knees higher. His breathing was ragged, sweat was dripping down his temple, and he felt sick. His stomach was churning and it took every ounce of will power to not rush over to one of the many cauldrons to throw up.
His brain kept playing the memories he had just seen. So many horrible scenes, one after the other. Salty sweat mingled with salty tears and he was soon taking gulping breaths to try and fill his lungs. He had forgotten about Snape standing a few meters in front of him.
"Look at me."
Snape's voice was clear over Harry's sobs. It was rough and pityless. It did not matter that Snape was teaching a subject that he had never taught to another student, nor that it was an impossibly hard skill to learn. Harry Potter was an arrogant and ungrateful child that did not deserve to be treated with compassion or tenderness.
Harry raised his eyes to Snape's.
"Legillimens!"
The shouts could be heard from three corridors away. Snape's footsteps echoed unevenly around the hallway, halfway between a walk and a run, as he pounded towards the noise.
When he rounded the corner, an unexpected scene unfolded. A small group of students were crowded around two people arguing. He couldn't see who they were, but he worked it out soon enough.
"You have no idea! You have no idea!"
Potter's voice sounded desperate, as if trying to make someone understand something they stubbornly refused to listen to.
"You're not helping at all! You're sat on your backside here at school!" The crowd parted slightly and Snape could see who was shouting. Seamus Finnegan was standing defiantly, a look of distaste plastered across his freckled face.
"You have no idea … no idea!" Potter's voice was fainter this time, but still held the same tone of desperation.
"The Chosen One my arse! You're no better than the rest of us!"
Snape had reached the crowd now, and he stepped between the two teenagers.
"Enough!" he shouted. Seamus had the sense to look abashed, but it was clear that a number of his classmates agreed with his statements. There was definite gap in the group and a collection of people were standing behind the Gryffindor.
A hush had fallen over the crowd except for the muffled sobs of Potter. He was still mumbling, "you have no idea. You have no idea."
Snape turned away from Seamus. Potter was on his knees, his face was downturned and he was rocking gently forward and back. Granger was on the floor beside him, her arms wrapped defensively around him. Weasley was also there, standing with his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"You have no idea … no idea" It appeared that these words had become almost like a mantra to the boy. He no longer directed the words at his opposition, he just repeated them to himself.
Snape debated what to do with the situation. In fairness, he should punish Seamus for his verbal assault however, history would suggest that he should punish both of the Gryiffindor's for causing a disruption. It was unlike the Potions Master to pass up an opportunity to torture Harry Potter.
He looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor.
"Potter!"
The boy ignored him, continuing to rock on his knees.
"Potter - look at me!" He snapped the words harshly, 'detention' on the tip of his tongue.
With some gentle encouragement from Granger, Potter lifted his head to look at his Professor.
His face was red and blotchy, streaked with tears. Snot was smeared over his cheeks and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked altogether pathetic. Helpless and desperate.
Looking into his eyes, Snape saw all of the unfairness that had been placed on this child. All his life he had been burdened with a crippling responsibility.
Perhaps it was because it had been a very long day, or perhaps it was because he empathised with the misunderstood young man in front of him, but the words which came out of Severus Snape's mouth were most unexpected.
He glanced at Weasley and Granger, then back to Potter.
"Go to your dormitory. Go to bed."
He turned and strode back the way he came.
It was Snape's turn for patrol duty. He had been wandering his floor for two hours but there was another hour before he could go back to bed. He was thankful that his first class tomorrow wasn't until ten thirty so could skip breakfast and get a few extra hours sleep.
He turned into a corridor that he knew didn't lead anywhere. He walked slowly, passing dusty portraits and battered doors that opened to classrooms and lecture theatres that hadn't been used in decades. A crumbling statue sighed mournfully as he passed.
Snape reached the end of the corridor and was about to turn back the way he had come when he noticed a light flickering under the door to his right. He could hear muffled noises from within.
The door banged against the stone wall and his voice bounced around the near empty classroom.
"Two o'clock in the morning is not a sociable hour to be wandering the castle! A weeks worth of det – Potter?!" He stopped abruptly when he saw Harry sitting against the far wall with his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging towards his navel. His body was shaking as if he were trying to hold in loud sobs. A few feet to his left was a lit wand that was providing the room with a cold light. As his body shook the light wavered and quivered with him.
The boy sniffed and looked up when he heard his name. His eyes were red and puffy. A tear balled on the tip of his nose.
Oh, Merlin. Snape felt dread sinking into his chest. A tearful Harry Potter was not something he wanted to deal with at any time of the morning.
He took a deep breath and dropped his head back to look at the ceiling. "Go to bed, Potter," he said.
Harry resumed looking at the floor. He made no move to get to his feet and return to his dormitory. He was silent. Snape remained quite as well. For a number of minutes they stayed like that. Motionless and soundless.
It was Harry that broke the silence. His voice was thick but Snape could understand the words he said, "I'm sorry."
Snape lifted an eyebrow, even though Harry couldn't see it. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Harry.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm not supposed to cry."
"It's not something to apologise for." Something inside Snape forced him to be kind at this point. Harry looked so pathetic. His emotions were exposed for all the world to see and Snape knew that anything biting he could say now would be cruel.
"But people expect me to be strong. I can't be weak." Harry still didn't look up. "Everybody looks up to me. I'm not even seventeen yet." He started shaking again. "I've got to save the world from Voldemort. I've got to find the Horcruxes. I've got to make up for the Ministry's mistakes." He sniffed a few times and he started crying in earnest again. Snape thought he would not go on, but a small voice cut through the gulps of air. "I've got to have the strength everyone hasn't got. I've got to –" His voice faltered. "I've got to –"
He lifted his hands to his head and his fingers clenched up his hair. Snape could see his eyes scrunching up through his glasses.
Snape stepped forward and crouched before the boy.
He reached his hand out and pushed gently at Harry's damp chin, "Look at me."
Harry met his gaze. His green eyes stood out even in the dim light.
"You've got to what?" Snape's voice was hushed.
Harry blinked and another tear tumbled down his cheek. "I don't want to do this." He sounded as if those words were terrible swear words. As if what he said was deeply offensive.
Snape stared into Lily's emerald eyes and was suddenly caught by an inexplicable urge that was so strong he couldn't resist succumbing to it.
He leaned forward and closed the short distance between their faces and pressed his lips to Harry's.
Immediately, his conscience caught up with him and he knew that it was wrong on so many levels. This was his student, he was only sixteen, and he was in distress.
But Snape had rarely listened to his conscience.
He didn't kiss the boy again, but he sat on the floor beside him and pulled his ruffled head into his chest. If anyone had happened to enter the classroom, they would have found the fair dozing uncomfortably until the sun rose later that morning.
From that moment on, it had been impossible for them to stay apart. Snape had briefly tried to keep Harry away but their mutual need for comfort and strength overpowered any sense of moral obligation.
Harry spent most nights in Snape's quarters. He expected Ron noticed his absence from the dormitory, but thankfully the redhead had sense to not ask about it.
After dinner each night, Harry would leave the Common Room with an excuse about wanting to go for a walk or needing to visit the library but he would go straight to the dungeons to see Snape. They would sit together into the evening. Sometimes with firewhiskey, which sent Harry to sleep. Sometimes they would read or Harry would study. Sometimes they would talk about magic and how Harry could fight against Voldemort and sometimes they sat in silence; Snape staring into the fire and Harry tracing circles around the dark tattoo on Snape's forearm.
Harry knew that when the time came, Snape would fight alongside Voldemort. Harry knew that Snape would do it willingly for it was essential that Snape kept his position in the Order secret from the Death Eaters.
Harry knew it would be agonizing to turn his wand on his Professor.
When they had finished their evening activities they would go to bed. Snape would kiss Harry and caress him and make him feel strong. He would make love to Harry tenderly and gently and show him that it was possible to feel good in hard times. They would move together in the black sheets on the four-poster bed and they would sleep together with their bodies pressed close.
In each other, they found what they needed most. Snape was Harry's strength and Harry was Snape's light.
They never spoke of their relationship as anything unnatural or unlawful. They were discreet but for them, they were just seeking comfort in a time when comfort was too hard to find.
In the early hours of the morning Harry would wake and walk back to his own bed. He couldn't fall asleep again, despite there being hours before he needed to be awake.
Near the end of term, Snape woke with Harry when it was time for him to go back to Gryffindor Tower. Neither of them said anything while Harry dressed and gathered his schoolbooks back into his back. Snape just watched Harry from the bed.
"Um," Harry faced Snape when he was ready, "see you, then." He debated kissing Snape but he knew the older man would see it as sentimental romance and instead he walked to the door. He had his hand on the handle when Snape spoke.
"Look at me."
Harry jumped at the sound but turned back to face Snape.
His face was dark when he spoke parting words to Harry. "You will be strong, Harry. You will fight for what is right and I will take the easy route and fight for what is wrong. You are so brave and you will protect all those who love you from the dark. I am a coward."
Harry opened his mouth, ready to protest but Snape continued without pause.
"I am a cowardly fool whocannot shield a sixteen-year-old from the experiences that made me the sneaking, double-crossing bastard that I am."
Harry began to stutter but Snape shook his head. He said, "You can go now."
By the end of that day, Harry knew that Snape was wrong. There was no cowardice. He had kept the murder of Albus Dumbledore out of Draco Malfoy's hands.
Harry barely held in a scream when he saw Nagini latch onto Snape's neck. He gagged when he saw blood gush from the wound. He frantically scurried to Snape's body when Voldemort and his snake disappeared.
He ran to Snape - even though he hated the man. He hated Snape for being cruel to his father. He hated Snape for hurting him. He hated Snape for knowing everything about him. He hated Snape for taking away his guide, his mentor, his lifeline.
But now Snape was sprawled before him with dark blood flowing freely across the dusty floor and Harry wanted nothing more than to love the man.
A part of him clung to Snape as a connection to his parents. Even though Snape was never a friend of the Potter's he played a role essential to avenging their deaths. That was until this year, when Harry discovered that Snape was willing to switch sides simply on a whim.
Another part of Harry reached out to Snape as a solid block in a swarm of uncertainty. Snape had always been sarcastic and cynical. He had always been there to berate Harry's skills. He had always been there to teach Harry about strength and power.
But now he was dying.
Harry sank to the ground, not caring that his jeans were soaking in blood. Snape's eyes followed him and the dark iris' were black tunnels leading away from the Shrieking Shack and into a place far more peaceful thanEngland. Snape made a gurgling noise and he coughed weakly. Blood surged from his neck and spurted from his mouth.
Snape blindly lifted his arm and reached for the neck of Harry's T-shirt. He grabbed it and pulled Harry down so that his face was inches above his. With a voice that sounded like it was spoken through water, Snape forced out three words. "Look … at … me …"
And Harry did.
He stared into black eyes and watched as the older man's tears collided with the blood surrounding his head. He stared into black eyes until they slipped out of focus. He stared into black eyes until Hermione pushed a vial into his hand and he noticed the memories that were floating in the red blood.
As he collected the silvery substance into the glass vial, Harry wept. He did it silently but warm drops fell down his face. His eyes sparkled as the dull light rebounded off the moisture between his eyelids.
Once the vial was full, he put it on the floor and didn't care that it rolled away from him. He leaned forward and felt a weight disappear from his chest. Snape's limp hand had fallen from the neck of his shirt.
Harry collapsed onto Snape's chest. He rested his head over the place that Snape's heart should be beating. There was no life coming from the body beneath him, no sound, no warmth, no pulse. He was dead.
Harry would never see the man again. He would never speak to him. Not in anger, or in tenderness. Harry knew that their relationship had been so complicated that most of it could never be fully explained to even his closest friends. While the battle contiued to rage in the castle, he took a few seconds to mourn for his loss. He mourned for the loss of his mentor, his teacher, his enemy, his lover, and his friend. He mourned for the loss of Severus Snape.