Trading My Sorrows
By Shadow Ballad
Genre: Drama/Spiritual
Pairings: None so far
Timeline: AU fifth year, Sirius Black has been pardoned and is the DADA assistant to Lupin
Warnings: T for violence and some language. This is a story detailing a person's conversion to Christianity, so it will contain religious themes. If this offends you, please do not read and then flame me for offending you. Reader, thou hast been warned. : )
EDIT: Lol, I forgot to have Gert give Severus the ingredients…that's fixed now. : )
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, you guys. : ) Now that I have the entire month of December off, hopefully I will be able to get chapters out faster. Big hugs and thanks to Ominous Voices, who got sick but is happily feeling much better now. Thanks to everyone who is reading!
Chapter Eight: Is it Well with Your Soul?
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As the two walked down the street, Snape kept pausing to discreetly hitch up his pants. Lawrence found this extremely amusing, and mentioned that Snape ought to buy himself some new clothing since his others had been destroyed.
"I wouldn't need to buy anything if you hadn't have brewed that disaster of yours," Snape groused, somewhere in between good-natured and quite irritated. "And if you don't shut up, I'll just shrink them and leave you to figure out what your real size is." Lawrence just grinned at him.
"Eventually you would have needed something new anyway," he said. "One can only wash a set of clothing so many times and still feel clean, you know. We can stop by the tailor's shop after visiting Old Gert and getting you a healing potion."
Snape grunted and opened his mouth to (begrudgingly) agree when a thought came to him.
He had no money.
He could have punched himself at that realisation, but in his own defence, he hadn't left school on Friday with pockets full of Galleons, expecting to be discovered as a spy and chased around Scotland like a fox during hunting season.
So, instead of agreeing, he politely told Lawrence that that would not be necessary; he would wear the borrowed clothes and quit complaining. The pastor gave him a surprised look.
"Are you certain?" he asked, knitting his brows together.
"Quite," said Severus nonchalantly, waiting until the pastor turned his head to hitch up his pants with a little grimace.
The two men walked farther on for a few moments in silence. Clouds from last night's storm still hung in the sky, but none looked threatening. Severus felt certain his little white lie had gone over unnoticed until Lawrence stepped off the main road and gently but firmly pulled Snape with him.
"You don't have any money, do you." It was a statement, not a question. Snape stared into the suddenly serious brown eyes and gulped. Blast! Discovered!
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied smoothly, lifting his eyebrow in his best you're-wasting-time-with-such-stupid-questions look. Lawrence sighed, looked at the sky for a few seconds, and then back at Severus, his features rearranged into a slightly exasperated grin.
"'Pride goeth before a fall', Severus," he said. "I just got through telling you that anything I have is yours. That includes my money too, you know."
Severus crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the pastor, who tucked his hands into his slacks pockets and continued smiling at him. He felt his anger shift, wobble, and disappear, finding himself unable to sustain any sort of ill feeling against his friend.
Dreadfully annoying, that.
He sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I couldn't possibly take your money," he said, a little exasperated himself. "It's bad enough that I land on your doorstep, sopping wet and—hurt," he amended after a quick glance at the people passing by them, some giving them curious but unassuming stares as they walked on by. "I can't pay you back for taking me in, giving me a place to sleep and food to eat, and I certainly won't compound my debt by asking you to lend me money for clothing!"
During this entire speech Lawrence had shaken his head, lips quirked in an amused grin. It grated on Severus's nerves, and he was just about to tell his friend to stop grinning like an idiot when the man cleared his throat.
"It was never my intention to make you feel as if you needed to pay me back," he said gently. "I helped you because you needed it, and because I wanted to. I still want to, if you'll let me. As you pointed out earlier, it is my fault that you need new clothing in the first place."
Snape sighed and chewed on his bottom lip irritably. "But why do you want to help me? I've given you no reason to! It just isn't logical!" he exclaimed, stuck between wanting to accept Lawrence's offer and feeling guilty about wanting to accept it.
Lawrence gave him another little grin. "I told you, Severus," he said patiently, "that I helped you because I wanted to. I do believe it's a spiritual gift of mine, and I cherish any opportunity I have to use it. As for it not being logical—well, no one has ever accused me of being logical, you know."
Snape found himself amused against his will. "Quite the opposite, I presume?" he said, quirking an eyebrow.
"Quite."
They stared at each other for few moments, earning more curious glances from passers-by. Snape finally had to look away; it was just pathetic for a grown man to use puppy-dog eyes on another grown man. He sighed, feeling himself losing the inward battle between accepting and rejecting Lawrence's proposal. Argh, what the hell.
"Fine," he said to the pastor's trainers, not daring to look the man in the eye.
"Splendid!" came the expected response. "We'll just stop by Old Gert's, get a potion for you and more ingredients for me, and then head on over to the tailor's." A hand grabbed his elbow, pulling him back onto the main road and back into the chilly morning breeze. The wind blew straight through Snape's cloak and sweater to sting his skin. He walked silently beside Lawrence as the man nattered on about spiritual gifts and finding one's niche within the church when suddenly he had a thought.
"Lawrence?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are we going to an apothecary to get ingredients for a healing potion instead of buying a healing potion from the apothecary?"
Lawrence shrugged. "I suppose it has something to do with the fact that she has two small children and can't brew any potions herself. Some fumes from certain potions are dangerous to young children, aren't they?"
Snape nodded impatiently. "Yes, but what about her husband? Can't he care for the children while she brews the potions?"
The pastor suddenly became quiet, his amiable smile fading away. "She doesn't have a husband, Severus."
"Ah," said Severus. His insatiable curiosity very nearly opened its mouth to ask 'why not,' but as that would make him even more of a tactless idiot, he held his tongue and walked silently beside Pastor Beckett.
The subdued duo ambled on, turning right onto Park Way and stepping out of the way of the children playing in front of their houses. Thousands of theories flew through Severus's head, each more ludicrous than the one before it. He only entertained them to keep his mind off of Lawrence's atypical melancholic silence. The Potions Master had just decided that he recognized the area when his friend gave a small sigh.
"He abandoned his family about two years ago," said the pastor, voice laced with uncharacteristic bitterness. "No one knows why; one day he was here, working at the pub, and the next he had disappeared." He glared down at the road, still slightly muddy from yesterday's storm. "I only tell you this so you do not think ill of her," he added quietly. "She is a good woman, as you'll see."
Lawrence stopped in front of a familiar door and rapped on it lightly. Snape stood behind him, tugging his slacks up and wondering if he ought to apologize for asking such a rude question in the first place when the door swung open.
A familiar plump face stared out at the two men, equally plump lips curved into a pleasant smile. "Good morning, Pastor Beckett!" the woman exclaimed, reaching out and pulling Lawrence into what looked like a bone-crushing hug. The pastor smiled and returned the gesture as best he could.
Snape stood awkwardly behind them, feeling both ignored and quite intimidated at the display of affection. He took one step backward, and as Fate would have it, stepped on something that cracked loudly beneath his heel. The Potions Master flinched and froze as the woman's eyes shot open and landed on him.
To his complete surprise, her grin got even wider. "Well hello there," she said over Lawrence's shoulder. Snape blinked; he hadn't expected her to remember him. Gently she let go of the pastor (who looked to be catching his breath after being squeezed) and moved toward Severus. Briefly the Slytherin considered making a run for it, but was grabbed before he could even decide which way to flee.
Ah well, he thought as her meaty arms wrapped around his thin body, I wouldn't have gotten far in these baggy pants. He winced as her substantial bosom came in contact with a few blisters, but forced himself not to pull away.
Hesitantly he returned the hug, feeling even more awkward than before. Not many people who knew him wanted to touch him, much less embrace him. The last time someone had given him a hug had been when he'd confessed to Albus and cried himself to sleep in the old wizard's arms.
"Be careful with him, Gert," came Lawrence's amused voice. "He's had a potions accident and is covered in blisters."
Gert stiffened, then slowly pulled away and gave Severus an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, reaching out to pat his arm and nearly knocking him to the ground. She then turned around and placed large hands on large hips, giving Lawrence quite a glare.
"You could have told me that before I hurt the poor dear!" she scolded, waving a thick finger under the pastor's pointed nose. "Now both of you come inside for some tea, and I'll get a healing potion for—oh my. We've met, and I have no idea what his name is! How rude of me!" She whirled around to face Severus, who took an involuntary step back. For some inexplicable reason, the woman strongly reminded him of Hagrid.
"My name is Severus Snape, madam," he said before she could ask. He then gave her a little bow, remembering how much she'd liked it the night before.
True to memory Gert blushed and gave him a shy smile. "Well, come in Severus," she said, fidgeting in place before ushering him toward her house. Lawrence gave him a curious look and mouthed 'you know her?' before Gert gave him a gentle shove inside, scolding him about not telling her his friend's name to begin with. She waited until Snape had entered the house to come in herself.
The inside was just as cosy and inviting as it had been the night before. A roaring fire blazed merrily in the fireplace, filling the small house with warmth and light. Gert ushered her guests to a little table near the fireplace, draped with a periwinkle blue tablecloth and decorated with a vase of what looked like dried wildflowers. Four wooden chairs completed the ensemble rather nicely.
"Sit down and I'll bring in some tea," commanded their hostess as the two men made themselves comfortable. "Earl Grey for you, Pastor?"
Lawrence nodded with a smile. "Yes, please," he said cordially. Gert shifted her blue gaze to Severus, who nodded and told her Earl Grey was fine with him as well. The plump woman smiled at her guests and told them tea would be out in a few minutes, and then they could get down to whatever business had brought them to her door.
As the apothecary disappeared behind a nearby door jamb, Lawrence turned to Severus, a curious look in his eyes. "When did you meet Gertrude?" he asked amiably. "She seems to have a very high opinion of you."
Severus coughed at that. "I bumped into her on my walk yesterday, and then happened to land on her doorstep during the storm. I apologised to her for my rudeness earlier, and she gave me directions back to the church." Lawrence hummed and leaned back in his chair.
"Was it difficult?" he asked teasingly.
"Was what difficult?"
"Why, apologising of course."
Snape resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the pastor. "Of course it wasn't!" he exclaimed, somewhat sulkily. "I had a reason to apologise, remember? I needed directions to the church, and she wasn't going to give them to me until I did." He conveniently left out the role his guilty conscience had played.
Lawrence, however, seemed to sense this. "Of course that was the only reason," he drawled, giving Severus an amused, pointed stare before shaking his head and laughing pleasantly. "See, you're making progress. The more you practise, the better you'll become."
Snape sniffed in mock disdain and peered down his nose at the pastor. "Says you."
Lawrence's grin grew wider. "Exactly."
Gert chose that moment to bustle back into the kitchen, a tray filled with three steaming cups of tea and a plate of fresh scones in her hands. "There you are," she said happily, placing a teacup in front of each man and taking the last for herself. "Eat up! You especially," she added, shoving a scone into Snape's hands and giving him a pointed, motherly gaze. "You're far too thin, dear."
Lawrence smirked at him from behind his teacup as Snape obediently bit into the scone, which turned out to have a lovely, mild apple flavour. He graciously thanked Gert, who blushed and straightened her blue-daisy apron sheepishly.
"MUUUUM! Malcolm stole my dolly, and he won't give her back, and he dropped her in a mud puddle, and—"
"Did not, did not, DID NOT!"
"Yes you DID, you MEANIE!"
"DID NOT!"
Snape winced as two small children ran into the room, completely shattering the peaceful silence of the morning. Both chubby faces wore petulant frowns, and both sets of clothing sported a great deal of mud.
Suddenly Gert rose from the table, towering over the two bickering children. Both children stopped fighting immediately, and hung their heads in shame at their mother's intense glare.
"Malcolm! Marion! Haven't I told you a thousand times never to play in the mud?" Both heads nodded glumly. "And I haven't I also told you how to behave when we have guests over?" Little Marion blushed and stared down at her feet, while her brother scuffed his shoes against the stone floor. "Now apologise to Pastor Beckett and Mr. Snape immediately!"
"Sorry Pastor Beckett and Mr. Snape," the two children chorused monotonously. Neither of them looked up from the floor.
"And Malcolm, give back your sister's doll. If you want one badly enough to steal Marion's, I'll buy you one; but we don't steal in this family, do you understand?" The little boy flushed a deep crimson and reached inside the pocket of his trousers. His hand came back out clutching a small, hand-made doll dressed in a little blue gown. He shoved it at his sister, who snatched the doll from his hands and immediately cuddled it.
Snape watched the entire exchange bemusedly, infinitely glad he hadn't gotten the same treatment when he'd shown up on her doorstep the night before. In retrospect, his apology had probably saved him from such wrath.
Gert loomed over her two chastised children a moment longer, then sighed and sat back down. "Say 'hello' to our guests, and then you may go play quietly and nicely in your bedroom," she said. Malcolm and Marion shared a look and then glanced shyly up at the two men.
"Hi," they chorused, eyes quickly refocusing on their shoes.
"Hello, children," said Lawrence pleasantly, while Severus merely nodded politely. He'd never been good with children, especially not young ones like these. As soon as hello's had been exchanged, both children offered quick bows and curtsies and fled the room.
Gert shook her head in maternal exasperation before turning back to her guests. "I apologise for that," she said ruefully. "Malcolm has been acting out like that ever since—well." She flushed, eyes falling to the table and hands twisting her apron nervously.
"It's perfectly alright," said Lawrence gently, reaching out and placing a supportive hand on her upper arm. She flashed him a thankful smile, and then cleared her throat.
"Well, you obviously came here for a reason other than having tea with me. Now, how can I help you?"
To Severus's surprise, Lawrence flushed and began fiddling with his glasses. "Ah, well, you see…um…it was…well, you know…"
Gert snorted and shook her head in fond exasperation. "Did you blow up another cauldron, Pastor?" she chuckled. Lawrence's face became a lovely shade of crimson. Snape smirked to himself in amusement. So, it wasn't just an isolated incident. He snorted to himself, careful not to let the other two hear.
"No! Well, that is to say, not really, it was an accident; I didn't blow up anything…"
"But you destroyed the potion, right?"
The pastor nodded, far too embarrassed to actually speak.
Gert clicked her tongue, then stood up from the table whilst dry-washing her hands on her apron. "What ingredients do you need?" Lawrence reached into his slacks pocket and held out a piece of parchment, which Gert took, unfolded and read. She looked over the edge of the parchment a few moments later, eyes wide with laughter. "A healing potion?" she asked, her voice quivering with the effort of holding back her mirth.
If possible, Lawrence's face flushed an even deeper shade of red and he stared pointedly at his hands, which lay clasped together in his lap. "That's what he said," he mumbled, jerking his head in Severus's direction.
Snape, who had been watching the exchange with increasing amusement, nodded and flashed a smirk at Gert. "It was only his fifth cauldron," he said with purposeful detachment.
"Are you a Potions Master, too?" asked Gert, her attention drawn away from a very sheepish Pastor Beckett. Snape nodded, taking a sip of Earl Grey and fighting hard not to spit it out. He took another bite of the apple scone to wash the awful flavour from his mouth.
Gert positively quivered in withheld laughter, eyes shut and parchment held in front of her mouth so Lawrence couldn't see her wide grin. It took a few moments for her to regain her composure, and by that time Snape had finished his scone while Lawrence looked as if he wished to sink into the floor.
"I'm so sorry Pastor, but this potion you have listed; a fifth year should be able to brew it!" Gert exclaimed, taking a deep breath to keep her laughter in check.
"I see," said Lawrence, finally looking up from his lap. "I am a lost cause with potions, you know," he added, a self-deprecating smile gracing his lips
Snape surprisingly felt a little well of pity spring into his heart at his friend's plight. Despite the humour of the situation, he knew he would not have liked to be the butt of such teasing and sensed that, despite his good-natured tolerance, Lawrence clearly felt embarrassed and possibly resentful at being made fun of.
So he decided to rescue him.
"If you would just give him the ingredients, I could brew the potion for him, as I will be staying at the church for at least a week," he said, drawing Gert's twinkling eyes back to himself.
"All right," said Gert, flashing an apologetic smile at Lawrence. "It's nice that someone can help him out, since I rarely brew any more these days." She suddenly winked at Severus, who nearly choked on his tea. "Pastor Beckett needs all the help he can get when it comes to potion brewing."
"Pastor Beckett would like to remind you that he is still in the room," said Lawrence mildly. "He would also like to remind Severus to ask Gert for a healing potion for his blisters."
Gert and Severus rolled their eyes in tandem. The apothecary then turned to Snape, a business-like expression on her face. "Come with me, please," she said, a faint blush tingeing her plump cheeks.
"Excuse me?" said Snape, a little taken aback at her sudden formality. If anything, her blush deepened.
"I need to see the blisters if I am to know which healing potion to give you," she said, her voice suddenly very soft and quiet.
Snape felt his face flush at that statement. "Ah," he said, then shut his mouth when he could think of nothing else to say. "Right." He stiffly rose from the table, carefully not glancing at Lawrence, who had snorted at Gert's proclamation and who he imagined must be grinning like an idiot. Again.
"Don't do anything you don't want to confess to me later!" he called out in a sing-song voice as the two mechanically walked into the adjacent room. Severus just barely resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at Lawrence as he stepped beyond the door jamb. After all, flipping off a member of the clergy might just earn him a Holy Lightning Bolt of Divine Judgment, and he didn't really feel like getting fried until he had this Christian business figured out.
At least, that's the reason he gave himself.
As he stepped into the next room, that line of thought died off abruptly as he noted his surroundings. Bookshelves lined most of the wall space, but instead of books or curios, each shelf contained glass bottles of herbs, ingredients, and a myriad of different potions for all sorts of maladies and problems. Against one wall sat a worktable, complete with brewing equipment and a medium-sized pewter cauldron. It looked like it hadn't been used in quite a while, as the layer of dust lining its rim proclaimed. A set of scales, different sized knives, and a beautiful collection of blue crystal bottles completed the ensemble rather nicely.
"Do you like my lab?" asked Gert, who had noticed his gaze wandering around the room. "It was my mother's," she added, a touch of pride in her voice.
Snape didn't grudge her for it. While nothing as extensive as his own lab back at Hogwarts, it was a lab to be proud of, and he told her so.
"Thank you," she said, blushing again as she took out her wand from a pocket in her apron and transfigured an empty bucket into a chair. "Now, if you'll just remove your shirt, I'll take a look at the blisters. Where did they come from, anyway?" she asked as she turned around to fiddle with a few bottles of potions ingredients on the nearest shelf. She grabbed a few and placed them on the worktable.
"Lawrence," said Snape as he removed his cloak and carefully navigated his way out of the turtleneck. He hissed as the material caught on a blister and popped it, squeezing his eyes shut as the clear amber liquid slowly oozed from the broken skin.
Gert turned back around at his hiss of pain and assisted him in getting out of the turtleneck. She conjured a warm cloth out of thin air and carefully dabbed at his skin. "Say no more," she said, studiously not looking at his face. "That man has blown himself up so many times and come to me with so many different problems that I don't bother to ask anymore."
Snape felt self-conscious as the woman continued poking about his bare, thin torso and clenched his hands in his lap to keep from shoving her away. What seemed like hours later, she got up and went to her lab to analyze the sample on the cloth. Minutes passed before she nodded her head decisively and, after running a finger along the labels on the shelves, selected a bottle.
"This should do the trick," she said, turning back to Snape and handing him a dark-green potion. Gingerly he took it from her, careful not to drop it while absently noting its viscosity and weight. "Drink it all, and the blisters should heal within the next five minutes."
Snape nodded mutely and pried the cork out of the neck of the bottle. He held it up to his nose and gave a tentative sniff, catching the faint scent of pine and liquorice. With a final glance at Gert, who was watching him, he raised the bottle in a mock 'cheers' and downed the potion.
And very nearly spat it right back out. Only years of working with foul-smelling and equally foul-tasting substances allowed him to keep swallowing the concoction. It tasted somewhere between a rotten egg and rancid meat; not that he'd ever eaten either, but if he had, he expected both to taste the same as the potion. Its only saving grace was the cooling sensation it gave him as it slid down his throat like thick syrup and began to interact with his body.
"Rather foul, isn't it?" asked Gert sympathetically once the drought had been swallowed. Snape could only nod; his tongue felt heavy, as if coated with thick resin. The apothecary tutted to herself, then conjured a cup. "Aquamenti," she said, and a thick stream of water gushed out of the tip of her wand to fill the cup. She handed it to Severus, who fairly snatched it from her hands and gulped it down.
"Thank you," he rasped once he had drunk the cup's contents. "I confess I've never appreciated ice water as much as I do now." He gave her a wry grin, which she returned.
"You're welcome. Oh! Look, the blisters are healing."
Snape looked down at his torso just as a peculiar sensation came over him; something akin to the feeling one had when a limb that had fallen asleep began to awaken. He watched in morbid fascination as his skin rippled and the blisters began to sink into it. The Potions Master could also feel the blisters on his thighs begin to fade.
The entire process look less than thirty seconds. Once complete, Gert blushed and left the room, telling him to collect the potions ingredients and saying that she ought to look in on Pastor Beckett; she'd been a terribly rude hostess, after all. Snape let her go without comment, grateful not to have an audience as he redressed. After fixing his cloak securely in place he gathered up the ingredients, shrunk them, and stuck them in his trouser pocket.
He then exited the room and ran right into Gert, who was dabbing at tear-filled eyes with a periwinkle blue handkerchief. Wondering just what had upset her Snape glanced over her shoulder.
Lawrence was sitting cross-legged on the floor, both of Gert's children sitting beside him and listening raptly as he told them a story. "King Saul said to David, 'You can't defeat Goliath; you're only a boy!' Do you know what David told King Saul?" The children shook their heads. "David told the king, 'Your servant has protected his father's sheep from both lions and bears. This great warrior Goliath is just like them, for he has defied the armies of the Living God. The same God who saved me from the lions and bears will save me from Goliath too.'"
"How did he beat him?" interrupted Malcolm excitedly. His sister nudged him without taking her eyes from the pastor.
"Shush, and he'll tell you," she said. Malcolm made a face at her, but Lawrence just smiled.
"Well, he took five smooth stones from a stream, put them in the pouch of his shepherd's bag, and went out to Goliath," he continued on. "Goliath made fun of him, but David ignored him. When the giant man attacked David, David took one of the stones from his pouch and slung it at Goliath! It hit Goliath and sank into his forehead, and so David, a young man, defeated the evil giant." Both children smiled at each other, and then at Lawrence.
Suddenly Gert sniffled loudly, and the trio on the floor glanced in her direction. The two children instantly sprung up, looks of concern on their small faces. "Mum! Are you okay?" Marion asked as Lawrence rose as well, giving Severus a smile.
Gert nodded her head, wiping at her face with the handkerchief and giving her children a watery smile. "Of course, dears," she said. "Just…oh, never mind. Come here and give Mum a hug." Both children immediately ran to their mother, burying their faces in her blue daisy apron.
Severus slowly made his way into the main room to stand next to Lawrence, who was giving Gert and her children a kind smile. Abruptly a look of sadness crossed the pastor's face, but it vanished so quickly Severus wondered if he had imagined it, but knew in his heart he hadn't.
"Thank you, Pastor Beckett," said Gert, still holding on to both children, who by now were becoming restless.
"Mum! You can let go now," they chorused, squirming in her grasp. Gert eased her grip and they sprang away, but not too far.
"I'm sorry I've kept you so long; I'm certain you have other things to do than spend the day here," said the apothecary. "I'll see you to the door."
Lawrence smiled and, after a fleeting glance at Severus, both men gave Gert a little bow. Predictably, she blushed and gave them a shy smile. "Thank you for your hospitality, madam," said Snape formally, managing to summon a little half-smirk—his best excuse for a smile he could conjure.
"Oh, don't mention it," said Gert with a small giggle. "Malcolm, Marion, tell Pastor Beckett and Mr. Snape goodbye."
Both children grinned and, before Severus could protest, rushed over and enveloped him in a hug. "Bye Mister Snape!" they chorused before pouncing on Lawrence. "Bye Pastor Beckett!"
"Goodbye, children," said Lawrence, taking out his wand and conjuring them each a lollipop. They gasped in delight and hugged him again before ripping off the paper coverings and shoving the candies into their mouths.
Two pairs of eyes then turned expectantly to Snape, who froze for a moment, wondering exactly what to conjure them. He had no idea what young children liked! His hesitation seemed to sadden them, and suddenly feeling rather guilty, the cranky Potions Master drew his wand and conjured them each a little stuffed dragon.
Both children squealed in delight and snatched the toys out of the air, giving Snape yet another hug and then rushing over to their mother to show her their treats. Gert looked near tears again, though she did give the lollipops a slightly disapproving look as she waved at the two men, who bowed once again before leaving the house and closing the door behind them.
"Ugh," said Snape when they had walked twenty paces from the house. "I feel like their favourite uncle now." He made a face, disgusted at how nauseatingly nice he had just been, and yet enjoying it at the same time.
Just a little bit, though. A teeny, tiny little bit.
Lawrence chuckled. "You probably are their favourite uncle now," he said. "If not their favourite person."
"No, that would be you. Children adore adults who tell them stories and give them candy."
"Children also adore adults who conjure them stuffed toys, you know."
Snape waved his hand dismissively. "That may be, but I suspect they liked you more. I…am not good with children. Of any age."
They passed the park where Severus had encountered the bitter old man the day before. All the benches were empty, but swarms of birds still pecked at the ground as if hoping to find something left behind from yesterday.
"Children can be the most understanding, non-judgmental people in the world," said Lawrence, running his hand along the bark of a thick tree, its leaves just turning red and gold and orange. "I adore them, myself. Their precious innocence is very refreshing to me."
"They can also be the cruellest people in the world," said Snape quietly and without thinking. Immediately he regretted it, knowing Lawrence would latch onto it and turn it their conversation into another Discussion of Snape's Many Issues.
To his immense surprise, Lawrence said nothing immediately. The two men walked in silence down a tree-lined path, a cool breeze nipping at their exposed skin on faces and hands and sending showers of autumn-coloured leaves swirling intermittently around them.
"I sense a great deal of pain, probably stemming from your experiences with Black. Do you want to talk about it?" the pastor asked a minute or so later in an unpressing tone.
Snape shook his head mutely. He stuffed his hands into his slacks pockets, clutching at the material as the garment began to sag off of his waist.
Lawrence nodded, looking a little disappointed but not pushing the issue. Snape silently thanked him for that when he suddenly remembered the questions he wished to ask the pastor.
"I would like to discuss other things with you, though," he said, glancing at his friend. "I have a few questions I would like to ask you."
Lawrence gave him a small smile. "Splendid," he said quietly. "Ask away."
Snape thought for a moment, then decided to ask the question that had been plaguing him since his conversation in the park with the old man. "I met someone yesterday, and in the midst of our conversation, he brought up a valid point. Why does a holy God allow terrible things to happen in the world?"
Lawrence slowed his pace as his smile slipped away. "Ah. You ask a very difficult question, Severus."
Snape stopped short, having never expected such an answer from his friend. "Oh?"
Lawrence sighed and stopped as well, turning to face Snape and motioning toward a bench beneath an almost leafless tree. Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly but followed him. Lawrence sat on the bench, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on folded hands. Severus slowly sat down beside him. For a few moments silence passed between them, interrupted only by the rustle of leaves in wind and intermittent chirping of birds.
"What I mean is exactly what I said," said the pastor quietly, shifting his gaze from the dark earth in front of him to Severus's eyes. "It is a terribly difficult question to answer mainly because I do not have the answer."
Severus's other eyebrow joined its brother in his hairline. "You're telling me you don't know?" he asked, flabbergasted. "You're a pastor, and you don't know?"
Lawrence nodded, a sad little grin gracing his features. "Exactly." He sighed again and bowed his head. When he looked up again, he wore the expression Severus remembered when he had confessed to him on Saturday. "You see, no one has the answer. Not any pastor or priest in the world, not even the Pope himself. Only God knows."
Severus slumped back against the bench, overwhelmed and quite disappointed. "That's…not really an answer," he mumbled, not looking at Lawrence.
"I know," said Lawrence quietly. Then he turned toward Severus. "There is something that I would like to confess to you, Severus."
Snape whipped his head around to gape at the pastor. "What?"
Lawrence gave a brief smile, then schooled his features back to seriousness. "I have suffered from that very question," he said, looking Severus straight in the eye. "I confess that I still do, at times, especially when circumstances become difficult. Did you know my favourite song, a hymn, is 'It is Well with My Soul'?"
"Why?" asked Severus softly, leaning toward his friend in genuine interest.
"The inspiration for many of the world's greatest hymns came from incredibly painful experiences. Take Horatio Spafford, the writer of 'It is Well', for example. After receiving word that his four daughters had drowned in the Atlantic Ocean, he wrote the words to the hymn en route to England to meet his grieving wife. The ship passed over the very waters in which they died." He closed his eyes as though pained, and then looked back at the Potions Master. "When sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say: it is well, it is well with my soul."
Severus flopped back against the bench, astonished. How could anyone live through such trauma, and find the strength to carry on? Why would they want to? This Horatio Spafford fellow must have been a Christian; how could he have suffered through losing his children and still believed in God afterward? Hell, why would he even have wanted to?
"Sometimes God tests us, using traumatic circumstances to call our attention to Him, or to test our sincerity of faith," said Lawrence quietly.
Severus scoffed at this. "That doesn't sound like a very loving God!" he exclaimed, clenching his fists angrily.
Slowly, Lawrence nodded. "I know," he whispered. Snape, having never expected a pastor to agree with such a statement, gaped at him in stunned silence. Lawrence looked up at him, eyes filled with uncharacteristic pain and sadness. "Believe me when I say that I know."
Snape snorted, but without his usual venom. "What do you mean by that, exactly?" Lawrence bit his lip and turned his gaze to his shoes, giving a shaky, troubled sigh.
"When my mother died of cancer the year before I graduated from Hogwarts," he said, "I very nearly abandoned my faith. I was extremely close with her, and to lose someone I loved so much hurt me more than I thought possible. I blamed God for allowing her to suffer, and hated Him for taking her away from me. I felt so hurt and betrayed that I turned down the first offer I received to attend a school for aspiring clergy. I left my Christian friends and joined the wrong crowd; that's where I picked up my swearing habit, by the way.
"Two weeks before I graduated, one of my long-lost Christian friends sent me a letter with the words to 'It is Well', another hymn called 'There is a Fountain', and the story of Horatio Spafford. I hated her for sending it to me, and very nearly burned the letter without reading it. But, something held me back, and I read it. After I did, I was overwhelmed with a sense of shame so deep I clearly remember collapsing on the floor and sobbing hysterically for hours, begging God to forgive me and give me another chance.
"The next day another letter arrived, this one from a prestigious religious school. I accepted without hesitation, and, at the risk of sounding cliché, here I am today."
Snape listened to Pastor Beckett's story, his anger slipping away. He remembered the memory he had seen of Lawrence receiving the letter, but had dismissed it as unimportant. Apparently, it had not been. Suddenly Lawrence looked back at him, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"And to complete the sermon, I cannot explain why God allows bad things to happen; but I can give you my own theory. It is my firm belief that God allows bad things to happen to people in order to build their character. And as for thinking of God as not being a God of love—a thought that even I contend with from time to time, after having witnessed the myriad evils in the world— well, the ultimate proof of God's love was His willingness to send his son to die on the cross for all mankind, even those who scorned him, and continue to scorn him."
"I see," said the Potions Master slowly. Lawrence closed his eyes and gave a self-deprecating shake of his head.
"I'm sorry, Severus; I think I've just overwhelmed you with a long-winded answer to a very short question, and an answer filled with assurances that you, as a non-Christian, might not find very reassuring," he said. "Forgive me?"
Snape nodded quickly. "Of course," he said, then gave the older wizard a wry smile. "Besides, long-winded seems to be your style."
Lawrence returned the smile, then grimaced and began to stretch. "A bit of advice," he groaned as his spine popped in several places. Snape flinched in sympathy, absently running a hand over his own back. "When you get as old as I am, never sit on a hard bench for long periods of time. Bad for your back, you know. Ouch."
"Duly noted," said Snape, wincing as a final loud 'pop' split the air. "Finished?" he asked a moment later.
"Quite," moaned Lawrence, massaging his back as he levered himself up off of the bench. Severus swiftly rose to help him and earned a good-natured glare from his companion. "I can help myself, sonny," he mock groused.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up, old man," he sneered, earning a grin from Lawrence. "Besides, you're only ten years older than me. Not nearly old enough to complain." He dodged a friendly punch from the pastor, who scolded him in a faux-elderly voice to "respect yer elders, young man!" The Potions Master gave a bark of laughter and jogged over to the road, waiting as Lawrence made a show of hobbling over.
"Well sonny, have you any more questions for me?" he asked as he neared the younger wizard and fell in step with him. Snape kicked a pile of autumn-coloured leaves out of his path, watching as the red and yellow shapes took flight in the strengthening breeze.
"Just one, for now," he replied, hitching up his pants.
"Splendid," said Lawrence happily. "Ask away."
"How far is it to that bloody tailor?"
.-.-.-.-..-.-.-
A/N: Hello, everyone! I hope you liked the latest instalment of Trading My Sorrows. (looks hopeful) It is a bit longer than most other chapters, but I hope you all don't mind.
The hymns mentioned are all real, and the story Pastor Beckett told Severus about Horatio Spafford is true. I would like to thank my Selah: Greatest Hymns CD for the story, and for inspiring me this chapter with excellent hymns and beautiful music. : )
Thanks for reading and bearing with! Have a happy Christmas (or whatever else it is that you celebrate…) And maybe give me a Christmas present of a review? (gives puppy dog eyes)
Cheers,
Ballad
