Chapter Ten

The world ceased its spinning. The very air seemed to diminish into stasis, void of sentience. Harry felt the biting stabs of cold panic gripping him, relentless in their insistent penetration of his soul. His lungs were suddenly incapable of inspiring breath. Harry diverted his gaze from Snape's anguished mien, as he fought for control over this consuming dread.

It was Snape. All this time. It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy sixteen years ago... Snape who had revealed a fraction of fate's perilous truth to Voldemort, and with horrid irony, had unknowingly brought about the execution of the only woman he had ever loved. Harry's mother.

Harry grappled acutely with this encompassing torrent of emotions... trying to make sense of his feelings. He was livid. A searing rage churned inside him, poisoning him. He felt like the man had betrayed him, that he had betrayed her. How could he have done something like this? He had loved her! He still loved her! He must not have known to whom the prophecy had referred. But did that make his depravity any more tolerable?

As Harry struggled to understand his blinding fury, his rash proclivity surfaced and a reckless instinct whispered its impulsive solution... This is all his fault. Your parents died because of him. Give into this hate, Harry. Don't fight it. Let it consume you. Let the fury seep into your soul. It will bring you power...

"NO!" Harry screamed, "I won't... I WON'T!" His head suddenly seared with excruciating pain. The burning in his scar was pure agony. He dropped to his knees as he felt his awareness dim. Harry's final recollection before receding into darkness was the gentle caress of a cool hand on his pounding forehead and troubled ebony eyes, wide with fear.

- o -

"...makes no sense, Albus!"

Harry fought against the indistinct stretch between latency and volition. His brain felt hazy, like it was crammed with white noise, and he realized with embarrassment that he must have passed out from the pain. He was dimly aware that he was lying in a bed, most likely in the make-shift infirmary, Harry discerned, and he could just make out the sounds of hushed, anxious voices gradually infiltrating his foggy state. He arduously opened his eyes as the muffled argument intensified.

"Now, Severus, Harry had only just been given some very disturbing news. I think his reaction is quite understandable given the situation."

No, Albus, it is NOT understandable. I can comprehend a tremendous amount of anger and contempt directed at me for this... but... his SCAR, Albus! It was as if... as if he were being tortured! He was in agony, for God's sake!"

"Come now, Severus, you were already apprised of the connection he shares with Lord Voldemort. You know there are occasions, like the end of last term, when Voldemort can gain access into Harry's mind..."

"You NEVER informed me that these occurrences cause him this level of pain! This... this is considerably more than a mere connecting of minds that can be remedied by mastering Occlumency, Albus! Not to mention the utter improbability that the Dark Lord could even have access to him during this time stasis. It should not even be possible! There is something you are not telling me…"

"Ah, Harry! I see that you've returned to us!," the Headmaster announced in a demeanor that seemed altogether incongruous, as he directed his blue twinkling eyes toward Harry, "Tell me, my dear boy, how are you feeling? You had us all quite frightened, I'm afraid."

"I'm OK... I think." Harry replied huskily, throat still scratchy from his nightmare, "My head still aches a bit, but I guess I'm alright."

Harry looked away from the Headmaster and chanced a glance at Snape. He was staring determinedly at the floor, scowl etched deeply in place, apparently avoiding his scrutiny. As Harry studied the man in front of him, he recalled the gut-wrenching truth he had bestowed upon him. He remembered clearly the rage that had consumed him. He shivered as he thought about the potent voice inside his own mind that had enticed him to relinquish control and give in to the hate. And then the pain in his scar, even worse than the night Sirius died, excruciating, stabbing pain. It had felt like a knife slicing through his scalp.

"Well," Dumbledore declared while genially pressing his aged hands together, granting Harry yet another glimpse of the Headmaster's cursed injury, "I believe I will leave you two. Professor Snape wishes to evaluate your condition, Harry, and I must attend to three extremely worried young Gryffindors who await news pertaining to your recovery from last night's... ah... incident."

That said, the Headmaster turned abruptly from them and departed for the sitting room.

A burdensome silence arose. The tension was tangible. Snape approached Harry's bed and swiftly brandished his wand. He spoke not a word as he non-verbally performed his diagnostic spells. After his assessment was complete, he turned around and rummaged through the potions cabinet. He emerged a moment later, vial in hand, and offered Harry a pale blue potion.

"Drink this. It will help ease your pain. It is what I, myself, take following one the Dark Lord's more… savage Death Eater meetings" He instructed. Harry took the offered potion and drank it without hesitance as Snape continued his directive, "You are to stay in this bed for the rest of the day. You've been through quite a traumatic experience, and you need time to recover. I will be back shortly to bring you some lunch..."

"Lunch? Shit! Did I sleep through another day?" Harry questioned.

"Not an entire day, no. You've been unconscious since early this morning when you collapsed in the sitting room. It is one o'clock in the afternoon. I rather expected you to be out longer." Snape added offhandedly.

"Oh, well, I really don't want any lunch. Thanks, but I don't feel much like eating right now."

Snape took a deep breath and plunged into the patently neglected topic, "Potter... I know that I am the last person you would wish to speak to after... everything, but I believe we… need to discuss what happened."

Harry shut his eyes tight, pursed his lips and tried to focus. Anger was once again simmering within him, threatening to overwhelm his shaky restraint, and he struggled to control it. He DID want to discuss this. Harry needed to understand how Snape could have just handed the prophecy over to Voldemort without any regard to the destruction it would cause. He yearned to make some sense out of this cruel deception. Because the truth of the matter was that Harry had come to trust Snape and he was terrified of losing this newly acquired alliance. He had believed Snape when he had divulged to him only last night that he loved his mother. The man had unveiled his soul to Harry, finally removing his mask of impassivity. Harry could not have been mistaken... there was such remorse in Snape's eyes as he had confessed to Harry his greatest regret. Harry longed for confirmation... He needed to understand...

"Explain," Harry implored, voice quavering with poorly-constrained misgiving, "Please… explain."

Snape stared fixedly into emerald eyes so filled with apprehension and anxiety, yet a blatant desire for truth. He grasped a chair from the corner of the infirmary, positioned it alongside Harry's bed and sat down. He took a long moment to center himself, a single forlorn intake of breath, and then he began his tale.

"I was never as strong as you in my youth. When my father beat me and my mother disregarded my plight, too immersed in her own suffering at my father's hand, I eventually closed off completely. But inside, my rage was slowly destroying me."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief as the gravity of Snape's admission sunk in. He had been physically abused at home too. A lump in Harry's throat formed as he recalled the memory he had witnessed during his brief stumble into Snape's mind last year. He remembered the image of a frail, raven-haired boy cowering in a dirty corner of a dilapidated room. Angry, heated screams fused with desperate pleas careened throughout the room, as the boy sat shivering, seemingly crawling inside himself in a futile attempt to remain hidden, to be safe. And he felt sickened when he realized that he knew EXACTLY what Snape was referring to… the need to disengage and the constant fury, brewing just below the surface….

"By the time I met your mother, I had grown into an angry, bitter child with little to no hope for reprieve from my suffering. I hated my family, my life, but primarily, I hated myself for feeling powerless to stop the abuse. But your mother took me into her heart and offered me something I had never had… hope. She was the first person to ever show me any kindness. Her love made possible my fortitude to persevere, to endure my father's brutality, all the while instilling a sense of promise that there could exist a brighter future for me. She saved my life… my very soul.

"Once we began Hogwarts, our friendship endured many hardships, the most obvious being our difference in house. It did not take me long to realize the grim intentions of many of my fellow Slytherins. Disdain for muggles and muggleborns was widely accepted among Slytherin house and the Dark Arts were openly practiced. I will not deny that my muggle father's abhorrent treatment of my mother and myself influenced me greatly. The temptation to join their ideology was strong.

"Your mother, however, never ceased believing in me. She persuaded me to see beyond the narrow-minded Slytherin mantra of hate. She urged me to deny their promise of a world bereft of muggle influence… a world in which a wizard could never again find himself suffering pain and humiliation at the hands of a muggle, as I had. And for my first few years at Hogwarts, I prevailed in this endeavor. I was successful in remaining neutral even among a house filled with pureblood zealots. But there was a cost. I was alienated, shunned by my housemates for my nonpartisan stance. And as a result, Lily remained my only friend in school. But as time went on, with your father and Black continuing their personal quest to belittle and demean me at every turn, the prolonged taunts from my fellow Slytherins for my less than ideal ethics and the continued violence at home, my resolve eventually began to weaken.

"The memory you saw in the pensieve marked a turning point in my life… one that I will deeply regret until my dying breath. The moment I called your mother that foul word under the duress of my acute embarrassment and wrath, I knew I had crossed a line with her. I pleaded with her afterwards to forgive me, but too much had changed. She recognized that I had already begun to immerse myself in the Dark Arts, to sympathize with my housemates' notion of muggle domination. And she had had enough. I believed, mistakenly, that I had lost her forever that day. I was very wrong. It was not her that was lost that day… it was a me.

"I spent the rest of my remaining Hogwarts years denying that she had ever meant anything to me. I concentrated all of my efforts on becoming adept in the Dark Arts, with the wholehearted support of my fellow Slytherins. I engrossed myself in what I considered the only support system left to me... among those ambitious Slytherins whose most fondest desire was to become a supporter of the Dark Lord. And indeed, not two months after I graduated, I willingly took the Dark Mark."

At this last declaration, Snape absentmindedly clutched his left forearm with his right hand, stroking it in what looked to be a familiar display of administering comfort. He took the time to breathe in deeply, as if to find the courage to continue, and began speaking once more.

"Over the next couple of years, I became aware that your mother and father had wed. It only strengthened my resolve to reject any feelings I had once harbored for your mother. I distanced myself as much as possible from her and focused on moving up in the Dark Lord's favor. For I, being a half-blood was at a distinct disadvantage among his ranks. And above all, I craved the power and control that came with being a member of his inner circle.

"When I entered the Hogs Head that day, it was on the Dark Lord's orders. He was giving me my shot at glory, or so I believed. He wanted me to apply for the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts so that I may be in a position to spy on Dumbledore for him. I was given intelligence that he was there meeting with another applicant for a job, and I was eager to make an appearance, to begin my deception in the Dark Lord's name. When I overheard the known seer foretelling a prophecy involving the Dark Lord, I jumped at the chance to increase my worth further by relaying that information to him."

Snape paused here. He hid his face in his hands, and Harry was certain that a muffled sob escaped him. When he uncovered his face, Harry could see that his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"I.. I... didn't even know Lily was with child. I NEVER would have... if.. if I had known..."

Snape choked on the last words and his voice shook with grief as he continued.

"As soon as I realized who the Dark Lord had targeted, I begged him to spare her. But... I knew... I knew that he would never honor my request. I knew he could never show that kind of mercy. I remember the absolute anguish of realizing that... that I had truly taken the wrong path. I.. I had denied the love in heart for... for so long! And her life and the lives those she loved were in danger... all because I had given in to my hatred, my pain, my disillusionment...

"I knew what I had to do. I sought out Dumbledore and pleaded with him to protect her... and you and your father... keep you safe. In return, I gave him my unwavering loyalty, for I was certain, from that point on, to which side I belonged. I knew that I did not deserve Lily's love or her forgiveness, but I would have done ANYTHING to amend my horrible mistake. And in the end... it was for naught. the Dark Lord discovered your location and..."

Snape's voice at last abated. And Harry saw his body convulse as he once again buried his face in his trembling hands.

When he finally emerged from his anguished lament, he fixed his ebony eyes, so overwhelmed with sorrow, upon Harry's similar watery gaze. He stared into the emerald eyes with conviction and offered one last pain-filled elegy.

"Potter... I swear to you... I have lived every day since that day in the Hogs Head with only one missive, to keep you safe... for her. I owe her... at least that... I..."

"Harry"

"What?" Snape inquired, perplexed at the interruption.

"Harry... you... you called me Harry last night," Harry answered resolutely as a lone tear spilled down his cheek, "And I would like it... very much... if you would continue to do so. I am not my father, remember? Lily... my mum... would want us to get past this. She would not want you to distance yourself from me... not anymore."

Snape stared at Harry in disbelief, but said nothing.

"Professor, I... I... forgive you."

Some resistance seemed to shatter inside Snape as a muffled wail escaped his lips and his tears broke free from their restraint. He lowered his head slightly, letting them fall unimpeded.

"And... I don't know if it will help to know this or not... but..." Harry added, and Snape lifted his head slightly, "...you saved my life that night."

"No... I... I didn't save you... your mother shielded you... sacrificed herself to try and keep you from harm." Snape explained.

"Yes, but... Voldemort DID give her the choice Professor. He told her that she could step aside, save herself, while he killed me. And she chose to give up her life so that I might live. It was only because of your request to spare her that she had that choice. And it was this choice that made it possible for my mum to decide to make that sacrifice. If you had not asked Voldemort to show her mercy, I would have died that night too. Your love for her... saved my life."

Snape lowered his head and sat in stunned silence for a long moment, breathing deeply. After the respite, he looked back up into Harry's eyes and, with a faint trace of a smile on his tear-streaked face, nodded, seemingly at a loss for words.

"And..." Harry proceeded, "...I think that whomever put us here, in this room, wants us to get past all of our hate... all the pain from our past... so that we can move on to a better future. My mum would have wanted that... don't you think?"

Snape's quiet smile increased at these words, as he replied, "Yes... I believe she would have... Harry."

Sorry for the wait, but due to the emotionally intense nature of this chapter, it took me a little longer to complete. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed it!

ETA on Chapter 11 - mid next week. Have great weekend everyone! :)

Please review!