To Make an End

Part Two

Our fatigue is often caused not by work, but

by worry, frustration and resentment.

~ Dale Carnegie

6 April 1982

"We said we weren't going to allow it," Vernon growled. Petunia could already see his cheeks growing red with anger and exasperation.

You said you weren't going to allow it, Petunia to herself, but what she said was, "It's not as if he can help it." She didn't tell Vernon that Harry had already done similar things in the past; there was no point in upsetting him further.

Harry turned his face into his aunt's shoulder as her arms tightened protectively around him. She knew that he didn't understand what was going on, but was certain that he realised something bad had happened; his grip on her neck was so tight that it was almost hard for her to breathe.

"He could have killed us all! What if you'd been hurt? Or Dudley? Are you going to just stand back and let him kill our—"

"Of course not," Petunia snapped, setting Harry down on the floor. "Sweetums, go play with Dudders, okay?" she said, nudging him toward the door. He blinked up at her, looking apprehensive, but then toddled away to the living room. Only once he was gone did Petunia turn her attention back to her husband. "What's done is done; there's nothing we can do about it now. I'll call around and find someone to replace the window tomorrow, and we can just get on with our lives."

"Until the next window breaks," Vernon muttered as he stormed out of the room.

At a loss as to how to respond to that—really, as much as she hated to admit it, Vernon did have a point—Petunia just began gathering the plates and things that had been hastily abandoned during breakfast, scraping off the barely-touched food and piling the dishes into the sink. Her mind was on anything but washing up.

She didn't know what to do. Things couldn't continue on like this. Between Harry's nightmares keeping her up every night, and the temper tantrums that always held the risk of injury, or at least property damage… well, something had to change. Something had to give.

Petunia didn't know if she could do this anymore, and that thought terrified her. She'd known what she was getting into when she'd agreed to take in her nephew—or at least, she'd thought she'd known. She hadn't realised how difficult it would be, or that she'd have to do it almost entirely alone; Vernon could hardly be counted on to help with anything related to Harry.

Except... except maybe she didn't have to do it on her own. Maybe there was someone who could help, if only by giving her advice. Someone who knew firsthand how to handle magical children; he was surrounded by them all day, after all.

A few hours later, with the boys napping and Vernon dozing off in front of the telly, she was unable to stop herself from going upstairs and retrieving a small box from under her bed. Inside was a single scrap of parchment, bearing an address that she'd sworn she'd never use.

I don't have a choice, she told herself, tucking the parchment into her pocket before gathering paper and a pen. She didn't want to go downstairs—she doubted Vernon would approve of this at all—so she sat on the bed instead, leaning on the book she'd been reading the night before.

Severus,

You said that if ever I needed your help, I should
contact you…. Please, come as soon as possible—
but only during the day; Vernon cannot know.

It's important.

Sincerely,
Petunia Dursley

8 April 1982

"I don't know what to do with him anymore," she said, her arms folded across her chest as the tall, angry-looking wizard paced back and forth in her kitchen. "He's going to end up killing himself, or someone else!"

"What do you expect me to do?" Severus snapped in exasperation. "Take him back to the school?"

"No!" she insisted. "But how are we supposed to control his magic if he can't?"

"Your parents managed with Lily," he pointed out, and Petunia rolled her eyes.

"Lily made flowers dance. She never blew anything up."

With a huff of annoyance Severus pushed past her and went into the living room. Before she'd even made it through the door, the boarded-over window was repaired.

"There; no harm done," he said quietly, going back to the kitchen. Petunia followed him a moment later.

"And what of the next time it happens?" she asked quietly, leaning on the door frame and watching Severus warily. "What if next time it's not just a window? What if he starts a fire?" She sighed, sinking down into a chair at the table. "Please, there has to be something we can do. We can't just hope any longer."

Severus seemed to consider this for a moment, then finally answered, "I'll cast wards and protection spells; he won't be able to cause but the most harmless of mischief."

"Vernon won't approve," Petunia answered slowly. To be entirely honest, she didn't really approve either, but she also knew that no matter how much she hated magic, there was only one way to combat it—more magic. She was so tired and stressed out that she wasn't about to limit her options if she could help it.

"Your husband will never know." Severus stood, surveying the room with a pensive expression. "I'll start in here. It won't take more than a couple hours."

She regarded him silently for a moment, struggling with her indecision, but finally nodded. "Fine. I'll leave you to it, then."

Severus just nodded without turning around. "I'll have to renew them once a month."

"Okay." She turned to go back to where the boys were playing, but paused long enough to say a grudging, "Thank you."

3 November 1982

"Have you gone completely mad?" Petunia's words came out as a shrill shriek, and Vernon finally stopped what he was doing for a moment and turned to look up at her.

"I can't take the crying anymore. And besides, he won't wake up Dudley this way," he explained in that confident tone of his that in the past, had always made her inclined to defer to his judgment. This time, just the thought of agreeing made her almost sick with guilt. The fact that Vernon had come home early to do this when he'd known she was at the park with the boys only made her angrier.

Seeming to sense the tension in the room, Harry tightened his grip around her neck. He looked up at her for reassurance, and it was almost more than she could bear.

"He's not sleeping in a cupboard," she said icily. "Move the cot back upstairs."

Vernon let out an exasperated growl. "We're never going to be able to get a full night's sleep again. You do realise that, don't you? That boy is a problem." He jabbed his finger in Harry's direction as if to emphasis his point. "He—"

"It's not his fault that he has nightmares, Vernon!" Petunia snapped even as Harry dissolved into frightened tears at the raised voices, burying his head into her hair. "Put it back," she repeated wearily, storming past Vernon on the way to the living room, hoping that the distraction of playing with his cousin would be enough to calm Harry quickly. She was just settling him down on the floor when a knock on the door echoed through the house, and it took less than a second for her to realise what day it was.

"I'll get it," she called to Vernon, but she could already hear him getting up.

"I can open the door in my own damn house," she heard him mutter, and before she'd made it even as far as the hallway, he threw the front door open. She turned the corner in time to see Vernon take in Severus's long robes and then turn a rather brilliant shade of red—a sure sign that he was pushing beyond anger and bordering on rage.

"Who are you?" he demanded, and Severus, not appearing intimidated in the least, merely frowned.

"Severus Snape," he answered frostily. "I—"

"He was a friend of Lily's," Petunia interrupted, worried about just how much Severus was about to say. She'd managed to keep his monthly visits a secret thus far; she wasn't about to give Vernon yet another reason to be angry.

"You're the one who brought that boy here," Vernon said, apparently recognising the name.

At Severus's impatient, "Yes," Vernon nodded and pointed toward the living room.

"Good. You can take him back, then. We don't want him."

"Vernon!" Petunia hissed. Hurrying forward to put herself between the two men, she sent a pleading look Severus's way. "Now's not really a good time," she snapped at him, all but pushing him away from the open door. He looked as though he were about to say something, but then nodded his head and disappeared on the spot, the CRACK of Apparition ringing through the half-open doorway.

"What was he doing here?" Vernon demanded.

"Probably just checking up on Harry," Petunia lied as she turned around, unconsciously pursing her lips at the sight of the cot lying in pieces on the floor. Steeling herself for what she was sure was going to be a rather long and bitter argument, she steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Vernon, you can't honestly want to put him in a cupboard?"

4 November 1982

Petunia was already half-expecting Severus to return the next day, but she still jumped at the force of the knock on the front door just minutes after Vernon left for work. Before she'd had a chance to even leave the kitchen, the door banged open. She hurried into the hallway to see Severus staring into the empty cupboard under the stairs. He turned to glare at her with a furious expression.

"Tell me that it was my mind fucking with me," he said, his lip curling into a sneer, and Petunia frowned at his tone and his words. "Tell me that I did not see your husband putting that boy's cot in the cupboard." Her eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off with an angry wave of his hand. "Don't. I know what I saw, Petunia. How could you—"

"I didn't. I made him move it back upstairs—which is where Harry is now, sleeping. As is Dudley," she said pointedly. "And who do you think you are, barging into my home and yelling at me as if I owe you any sort of explanation at all?"

Severus only glared at her. "If that man every tries anything like that again, I swear to you, I will—"

"Don't you dare threaten my husband!" Petunia snapped, suddenly more furious than she could ever remember being before. "You wizards think you know everything. You think you're better than the rest of us. Especially you—you always have. But you don't know the first thing about what living in this house for the past year has been like. You come here and cast your…." She paused, waving her hand dismissively as she continued, "Your spells, and then you get to go back to your castle, job well done. Well I don't get to leave. Vernon doesn't get to leave."

She couldn't seem to stop herself from saying exactly what was on her mind, and truly, she didn't want to stop. Every bit of anger that she'd felt toward this man for the last thirteen years seemed to flood into her mind and spill from her in bitter, icy words even as angry tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she struggled to keep her tone quiet enough as to not wake the napping boys upstairs.

"Did you know that Harry has nightmares every night? That he wakes up screaming and crying every night? Sometimes more than once. He doesn't sleep. I don't sleep. Lately I'm so tired that I don't wake up until Vernon wakes me up, and so then I not only have Harry crying, but usually Dudley as well, and Vernon's in a dreadful mood all day. Everyone in this house is exhausted and frustrated all the time."

"So yes, Vernon made a serious… error in judgment—" she ignored Severus's derisive snort at that phrase—"but I would be lying if I said that any solution, no matter how terrible, didn't sound tempting. Especially if it would mean having a full night of sleep, or getting through two days without arguing with Vernon over the boy."

The last of her words caught even her by surprise, and she finally dropped Severus's gaze, folding her arms self-consciously across her chest. Her anger seemed to deflate, leaving only the same weary frustration to which she was becoming rather accustomed. Wanting the conversation—if one could really call it that—to be over, she finished quietly, "I agreed to look after Harry, to watch out for him and keep him safe, and I'll continue to do that. I'm doing the best that I can, trying to handle the mess that your world made and then didn't want to deal with anymore. But I will not have you coming into my home and treating me as if I were one of your students, or a servant to be ordered about."

Severus was silent, and when she glanced up at him, he was still staring at her, his expression having lost most of its earlier fury, but not appearing apologetic or understanding in the least. Not that she'd expected him to be apologetic or understanding, really. After all, he never had before, in her experience.

As if on cue, Harry's wails filled the tense silence, echoing down the stairwell. Feeling a headache already coming on, Petunia sighed in exasperation and headed for the stairs, pausing only long enough to say over her shoulder, "Look, cast your spells or don't; I don't care. Just do whatever it is you're going to do, and then get out of my house."

Hurrying to Harry's room before his cries woke Dudley, she quickly lifted him out of his cot, rocking him back and forth as he clung to her, still trembling from his nightmare. He didn't calm down as quickly as he usually did—she suspected it had something to do with her own shaking hands and the angry tears she couldn't quite hold back anymore—but eventually he drifted off to sleep, his face buried in the crook of her neck and one hand knotted into her hair. She rested her cheek against his small head and willed herself to calm down; allowing herself to be upset would only end with one or both of the boys being upset as well, and she didn't think she could handle the temper tantrums and crying that would accompany that situation. Not today.

She was surprised to hear Severus's footsteps on the stairs a few moments later, and she turned her back to the open doorway and stared out the window as he walked by, headed for the last room at the end of the hall. He worked his way through the rooms silently—she heard her own bedroom door open, then Dudley's, and finally he stood in the doorway of Harry's room. She didn't say anything or turn around, hoping that he'd take the hint and just get on with what he was doing.

Instead, without stepping into the room, he quietly said, "There may be a way to deal with the boy's nightmares."

A bitter retort died on Petunia's lips, and she couldn't quite ignore the spark of hope that raced through her as she turned around. Severus stood leaning against the doorjamb, his gaze focused on the floor and his hair hanging around his face like a curtain, hiding his expression from view. Unable to find what seemed like a proper response, Petunia just waited for him to further elaborate.

"It may be possible to remove the memory of the…" He hesitated, and there was a catch in his voice as he continued, "…the attack from his mind. If that night is, as you implied, the cause of his nightmares, then they should stop entirely."

Petunia frowned, not quite liking the sound of what he was suggesting. "You want to alter his memory? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not if done by someone who is skilled in Legilimency," Severus answered, and she nearly rolled her eyes. As if that answered her question at all….

"And who, exactly, would that be?" she pressed.

"The Ministry employs many of them, but I doubt it would be safe to allow the boy's whereabouts to be known, and it's likely that not all of them could be trusted. I believe Dumbledore may be the best option, in this instance." He turned to look at her, seeming to consider his next words carefully before saying, "I'll approach the headmaster with the request tonight. If he agrees, I'll return for the boy tomorrow. It would only take a few hours at most."

Instinctively, Petunia tightened her arms around her nephew's small body. Though she'd never actually met Albus Dumbledore, just his letters had been enough to make her despise him, and the thought of sending Harry to a place where she couldn't follow to let that man mess with his memories did little to assuage her misgivings about the entire idea. But she was, quite frankly, desperate for a solution, any solution, and while she may not like Severus any more than she liked Dumbledore, she did trust him to not intentionally allow harm to come to Lily's son. After a long, silent moment, she slowly nodded.

"Fine," she said quietly. "You'll let me know when to expect you?"

"I'll send an owl," he answered. Normally she'd be concerned at the thought of an owl making an appearance at her home when Vernon might be around, but even Vernon couldn't possibly complain about this.

"I need to cast the wards in here," Severus added, looking at her expectantly. Petunia nodded, turning away again as he stepped into the room and began silently waving his wand this way and that. When he'd finished, he left without a word, and a few seconds passed before she heard the muffled sound of him Apparating away.

17 November 1982

Petunia had nearly given up hope that Severus would return when he showed up on her doorstep, not appearing the least bit apologetic. She was about to complain at him—honestly, how could he just disappear without a word for two weeks?—when he said, "The headmaster has… declined," bitterness in his tone.

Her mouth snapped shut, her earlier anger quickly buried under new fury and resentment.

"Declined?" she finally managed to ask, incredulity seeping into her tone. "Declined?"

"He feels that the boy may need that memory one day, and that removing it by force, since he cannot hand it over himself, runs the risk of damaging it," Severus explained, sounding nearly as angry as she felt.

She couldn't help it; she laughed. There wasn't an ounce of humour in the sound. "Fine. Goodbye, Severus." She moved to close the door in his face, but without warning, he reached out a hand to stop her, pushing the door open again.

"Wait," he said, his voice almost so quiet that it she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly at first. He stared at the half-opened door for a long moment before nodding, almost to himself, and then saying softly, "I'll do it." He looked up, finally, though he didn't quite meet her eyes. "I cannot take the boy back to Hogwarts, though; it'll have to happen here."

Petunia stared at him in confusion. "But… you said that it was only safe if someone skilled in that… thing—" She waved her hand in the air, trying to come up with the right word.

"Legilimency," he replied expressionlessly.

"Yes, that," she agreed. "You said someone who can do thathad to do it."

"It isn't difficult." Stepping closer, he eyed her impatiently until she stepped aside and let him into the house. "There's very little risk involved; a mind as young as his is very… pliable."

:Petunia hesitated. She wanted Harry's nightmares to stop. No, she needed Harry's nightmares to stop. His inability to sleep was very quickly ruining all of their lives. But the only thing worse than a nightmare-plagued, crying toddler was a nightmare-plagued, crying, brain-damagedtoddler, and the possible risks were almost too much for her to even consider.

"Isn't there anyone else?"

Snape rolled his eyes—which was, quite frankly, the attitude she was used to dealing with from him, so it was almost… comforting, in a way. At least some things never changed.

"You don't know how to—"

"Yes, I do," Severus interrupted, glaring at her. "I assure you, I would not do it if I believed there to be any risk."

"If you knew how, why didn't you just do it in the first—" she began to demand, but he cut her off with an angry wave of his hand.

"Do you wantto never sleep again?" he snapped.

And as much as she didn't want to trust his words, as much as she wanted to scream at him for making her wait two weeks for him to return when apparently he could have just done this Legilimencything himself in the first place, she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Something needed to change… and she didn't think Severus would ever be able to bring himself to permanently damage Lily's son.

"I'll get him," she finally decided, heading into the living room and scooping Harry up from the floor, where he and Dudley were staring at awe at some cartoon on the telly. He started to cry and try to get back down on the floor, but went silent and clutched onto her neck when he saw Severus standing in the hall.

"Put him in his chair," Severus said as he headed for the kitchen. Petunia slowly followed after him, apprehension in every movement as she slid Harry into his high chair. Severus pulled his own chair up close to Harry, then turned to glare at her as Harry reached his arms up, trying to get her to pick him up again.

"He can't be distracted by you." He jerked his head toward the other room. "I'll call you when we're finished." Petunia frowned, opening her mouth to protest, and he cut her off, saying, "If he pulls his attention away, it could have dire consequences. You cannot be in here. It should only take a few hours—I need to extract the original memory, and then the memories of the nightmares."

Reluctantly, she went into the other room, her ear all but pressed to the door as she waited for something, anything to happen. Harry cried for a moment after she left, but then fell silent, and the only sound in the house was the chattering animals on the telly and Dudley's occasional giggle.

And then, nearly twenty minutes after it had all started, she heard what sounded like a groan of pain in the kitchen.

Unable to stop herself, she swung the door open just enough that she could peek inside.

Harry still sat in his chair, his expression completely impassive. It was Severus, sitting with his head down on the table, that had made the noise. In shock, Petunia watched as his body jerked with sobs like she'd never seen from, well, anyone over the age of five, honestly, let alone a grown man. With what appeared to be an enormous amount of effort, he finally lifted his head, choking back more tears even as he again raised his wand toward Harry, touched it to the boy's head, stared at him intensely for a moment, and then pulled the wand away with some sort of silvery something attached, which he quickly deposited into a bowl on the table. His hands shook as he moved.

Not wanting him to see her watching, she gently closed the door, her mind reeling.

What on earth was he—

And then it hit her. Of course. If he were digging through Harry's memories, if he were seeing what Harry had seen….

Was the memory of Lily dying sitting in that bowl on the table? No, dozens—maybe hundreds of memories.

No wonder he hadn't wanted to do this. Of course he hadn't. She almost couldn't believe he'd agreed to it at all.

The thought of seeing something so terrible, over and over, was horrifying, and almost without thinking, she crossed the room and scooped Dudley up into her arms, ignoring his protests as she walked away from the telly. She relented a few moments later and let him scurry back to his show, but she didn't move away from the doorway until finally she heard Severus's chair scrape against the floor and Harry's babbling chatter begin anew.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room. Severus was pouring the contents of the bowl into a glass container—a beaker, was really the only word she could think of to describe it—and he pointedly avoided her eyes as she drew closer.

"Did it work?" she asked finally, unsure of what else to say.

He gave a curt nod. "It appears so. No damage was done, at any rate. We won't know for sure until he gets through a few weeks without any nightmares. With any luck, they'll be gone for good."

A few weeks without nightmares sounded like pure heaven, in Petunia's mind. The thought that they may never occur again, or at least not any more than any other child had nightmares… she didn't even know how to put what she felt about thatinto words.

Harry stared up at her, his face breaking out into a tiny grin when she looked his way, and she couldn't help but return the smile—maybe, just maybe, her family would survive this after all.

Of course, none of this had come without cost, she realised as Severus moved to place the bowl back on the table, his hands still shaking violently.

She couldn't help but wonder if they'd just simply traded one boy's nightmares for another's.

"I'm going to make some tea," she decided. "Will you stay?"

He looked as though he were going to decline, but then he seemed to reconsider, and in the end, nodded and sank back into his chair. On impulse, she paused beside him on her way to the kettle, her hand finding its way onto his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but didn't pull away.

"Thank you," she told him quietly, wishing she knew what else to say. What else she couldsay. He remained silent, staring at the table, as she lightly squeezed his shoulder and then turned to go make the tea.