Disclaimer: Yeah, that.
There had been a big outcry when Anna turned up missing. The Dark Lord blamed Rosier Sr., who turned around and blamed Healer Greengrass, who snapped right back that she'd done nothing but attempt to save the child's life and then left her to live or die as the gods willed, with the mandated privacy for a respect for death. In the ensuing chaos, Severus found it easy enough to simply fade into the background as he usually did, and no one was the wiser to his part in Anna's disappearance.
The Dark Lord had taken the time to have a private chat with Lucius Malfoy's orphaned ward though. Recalling the event, Severus pondered how different the actuality had been from how he had envisioned it, years ago.
"So, this is young Severus Snape."
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir," Severus said respectfully, giving a polite bow where he stood to the reputed Dark Lord, alternately bane and blessing of the Wizarding community depending on who you asked.
"Lucius tells me you are a potions enthusiast?"
"I am well-versed in potions making, my lord," Severus acknowledged, unconsciously stiffening a little at the small flippant slight to his affinity and skill for potions. "I supply Lucius with all the potions he requires of me, and I have brewed several high level Dark potions already."
The Dark Lord raised a dark eyebrow, clear eyes slightly amused and considering at the same time. Probably because he knows that Lucius was the one who brought in the perfectly brewed batch of Veritaserum, and the Petrifying potion that he used to turn his victims into stone the last general attack they did, and now he's realizing that I was the one who brewed them, not Lucius or some anonymous brewer paid to be quiet. Severus refrained from smirking.
"Impressive for one of such a youthful age," noted the Dark Lord. He leaned back thoughtfully in his armchair. Severus remained bolt upright on his, unwilling to let his guard down around such a dangerous man. He said nothing, only inclined his head gracefully.
"No one has been very forthcoming about you, my boy," the dark-haired man continued. "I have, of course, ascertained more than they were willing to tell me through—other—means, but still I find myself curiously lacking in information about you."
"I do not enjoy frivolous socializing," Severus said.
"Undoubtedly. But it leaves me at a disadvantage for you to have heard about me, but for me to know less about you. Perhaps you might enlighten me as to yourself, young Severus?"
"As my lord wishes. What would you like to know?" Severus fought to keep his blank façade, hyperaware to the fact that the greatest Legilimens apart from Albus Dumbledore was sitting across from him and could very easily tear his mind apart if he wished.
"Why don't you tell me a little of your background and relationship to the Malfoy family, and perhaps your ambitions for the future?"
And so Severus delivered a dry, unemotional, and very brief accounting of his less than pleasant circumstances before the Malfoys, his mother's death, Lucius' stepping in, and the recent death of his father at the start of the summer. He did not tell the Dark Lord that it had been he who had killed his own flesh and blood, but he deliberately left it ambiguous and the Dark Lord's eyes had glittered with unrepressed excitement and appreciation as he had narrated the news of his father's death.
"And what of your future, Severus Snape? What do you see yourself doing, if you could have what you desired most of the world?" the man enquired intently, staring at Severus with a hypnotizing gaze.
"I would endeavor to be taken apprentice by a good Potions Master—most likely out of Britain, since the best Potions Masters of this age have all been elsewhere—Russia, Italy, Argentina, Japan, Hong Kong."
And here we come to the crux of the purpose for this discussion, Severus thought with difficulty as he tried to resist the spellbinding effect of the Dark Lord's fathomless expression with its hint of genuine interest in him, Severus Snape, and no one else. It was heady, flattering stuff, to be the sole focus of such a powerful, influential man. Severus found himself hard-put to keep his mind clear and unaffected by the Dark Lord's drawing aura.
"And if, young Severus, I paved the way for you to do this? Would you then pledge your allegiance to me? You are an intelligent and dedicated professional who will do very well in your chosen field and in anything else you wish to succeed in, I can see it. Your genius would be a great asset to me, just as I could be of great assistance to you, not only to convince Lucius to locate, convince, and allow you to apprentice under the best of the best wherever that person is, but also later in life. Mine is a rising power, as you can see, and I'm sure you would understand very well the benefits of being on the side of power, being favored of those in power, becoming one in power…"
It might have been the way it had been phrased, a perfect offer and opportunity to a Slytherin. The motives laid out—a pure and simple give-receive price-binding, the Dark Lord's favor and influence and gifting of power in the hierarchy in exchange for his allegiance, his skills, his obedience. Three months ago, Severus would have leaped at the offer. Control, power—it was what he had always desired, to be in a position where he could not be ordered around or subservient to Lucius or Rosier or any of the other snobby Purebloods. It seemed too good to be true—and Severus blamed Black for the words that came out of his mouth then.
"My lord, you do me too much honor. I pray you forgive my impertinence, but I ask you to stay your desire for my answer. It is a decision I would not take lightly, and furthermore—well, one never can plan too far into the future without it changing on them, often unexpectedly. I am young, as you have pointed out, and before I pledge any life-binding vows, I would enjoy a space of freedom in which to enjoy life without any prior oaths, commitments, and promises. Perhaps you can understand my view?"
The spell broken, the Dark Lord now looked just like Evan Rosier when he was denied a particularly desirable thing, like the newest broom model. "Are you certain, Severus, that you do not wish to take my offer at this time?"
"It would not do you the justice you deserve if I were to take pledges of allegiance now, without having truly understood myself and the world I live in," Severus pointed out reasonably.
Disgruntled, the Dark Lord rose and Severus blinked. The man was much shorter than he'd expected, somehow…
"If you change your mind, Severus, the offer still stands and I hope you take the opportunity I have given you," the Dark Lord declared, moving towards the door of the parlor.
"I am truly appreciative, great lord," Severus said in a placating manner, following the man out and taking care to infuse full subservience into his body and being. "I can only thank you and apologize once more."
"No need, boys will be boys," the Dark Lord dismissed, Severus already fading back into an unimportant speck of the background. "Go find Abraxas—I will be taking my leave shortly." And with that, Severus' audience with the infamous Dark Lord was over and the offer he'd been dreaming of for months turned down.
It had to be Black's influence—there was no other reason for Severus having turned down such a wonderful overture. Severus couldn't put his finger on what exactly had changed this summer, but he definitely knew the cause of the difference in his views of the world—Black. The imbecilic nuisance had shattered his all preconceived notions of an acceptable value system and the Slytherin mentality of price-binding, right and wrong, morality, honor…Severus sneered at himself, alone in his room. I now declare you an official bleeding heart, Severus.
-x-x-x-x-x-
Sirius had been worried, but he needn't have been. It was three weeks into fall term, and Anna had finally recovered enough to come back to school. She would be staying in her own room, rather than going back to the Slytherin dormitories—Headmaster Dumbledore had taken some convincing, but Sirius had finally pointed out that it would no doubt be traumatic for Anna to sleep next to the children of some of the men and women who had killed her father and nearly killed her. So she would be staying in a private room right next to the hospital wing, on the insistence of Madame Pomfrey and Healer Madison, who had given Madame Pomfrey a debriefing on what Anna had gone through.
Anna was sitting calmly at the Slytherin table, serenely ignoring every single other person on the table, sandwiched in between Snape and Greengrass. She held a book propped up on the table, and she read as she ate, while her classmates alternately threw her awkward looks, spat vitriolic insults at her, and looked completely bewildered (those who had not been at Summer Gathering). When Sirius came in and saw her, he gave a shout and she looked up, smiling at him, much healthier than she had looked the day he had left for Hogwarts. "Anna!"
"Hello, Sirius," she greeted him as he crossed over to her, leaving James, Peter, and Remus behind at the Gryffindor table. "How have you been enjoying school?"
Sirius groaned dramatically, aware of the stares of the entire Great Hall. "I have a two-foot essay due in Transfigurations tomorrow and I haven't started it."
"Well, you should begin then, shouldn't you?"
"I suppose…how have you been? Are you feeling better?"
"I have recovered quite well, thank you," she replied. "I am thoroughly sick of resting and ready for some work!"
Laughing, Sirius craned his neck to look at the title of the book she was reading: The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats. Catching his glance, Anna quirked one side of her mouth up in a crooked smirk. "Interesting poems, Yeats wrote," she commented. "I particularly like the poem 'The Stolen Child'."
"Yes, it is good, isn't it? 'For the world's more full of weeping…'"
"'Than you can understand," she finished, and raised an eyebrow. "We're holding up dinner, I believe."
"Oh—" true enough, everyone was now seated and staring at Sirius and Anna. "Sorry. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Certainly, Sirius. After dinner?"
"Sure thing." He strode back to the Gryffindor table, feeling as though he were floating on air. Anna's better and life is good.
After dinner, he excused himself from his friends' company—they teased him about ditching them for a girl, but it was good-natured ribbing and Sirius escaped fairly lightly, considering. Making his way over to the Slytherin table, he grinned down at Anna. "You ready?"
"Yeah, let's go talk in my room—Madame Pomfrey says I can have boys in my room if the door is left at least three inches cracked open," she informed him, rising. She turned to Greengrass, beside her. "Charlotte, I'll talk to you tomorrow okay? I'll tell you what I can then."
Nodding politely at Charlotte, Sirius fell in step with Anna as she headed towards the entrance. They hadn't gotten very far when a derisive voice called out, "Hey, Nott! You left your book." Turning around, Sirius caught sight of the familiar speaker. Snape. The boy looked exactly the same as he always had, contemptuous, indifferent, almost languid in his movements as he waved lazily at the abandoned book by Anna's empty plate.
"Oh—thank you, Snape," Anna responded in a stiff, polite manner. She walked back over and retrieved her book of poetry and returned to Sirius' side. "Come on, let's go." She set off at a faster trot, and Sirius matched her pace.
"Hey, slow down a little will you? You don't want to overexert yourself."
"Slowpoke."
"Thestral."
"Thestral?"
"They're supposedly really fast."
"Only you would know some random fact like that, Sirius." Anna shook her head, the lamplight catching her dark brown curls and playing with the hearty hue.
When they had installed themselves in Anna's room, a tiny but rather cozy room decorated in warm tones of brown and beige, the door three inches ajar and Eavesdropper's Bane set up, Sirius looked at Anna expectantly. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"How is the return to school? Facing…well you know."
She looked soberly at him. "It was hard, at first. Especially seeing Rosier. He looks just like his father, and I know that he would have done the same thing as that despicable monster." A hint of steel rang through her words. "But…I told myself they couldn't hurt me anymore, and that the best way to get back at them was to act as if they were insignificant little ants to crush beneath my foot or ignore as I chose. Nothing irritates people like Rosier more than being treated as inconsequential." Anna beamed. "It got to be quite fun, irritating them when I didn't respond throughout dinner, although I did talk to Charlotte. She's a good person, just in the wrong circumstances."
Sirius shrugged. He didn't really care for Greengrass one way or another—if Anna continued to consider her a friend, he would accept that. The girl hadn't been anything but cordial towards him during Summer Gathering, after all.
"She was a great help, just her small chatter to catch me up on what I missed out on these few weeks. Severus was great too."
"Snape? What did he do?"
"Well he obviously can't blow his cover, but I do remember bits and pieces of…what happened, you know, and he features a big part of it. And as a good thing, not doing something bad. And when I sat down and Rosier went to sit down next to me, he intercepted him and sat next to me instead."
"He certainly didn't seem very friendly."
"Slytherins, Purebloods, acting, bigger things at stake…do you remember any of what I pounded into your head this summer, Sirius Black?" Anna demanded.
In his heart, Sirius rejoiced to see Anna so much herself, riled up and with a glint in her eye. "Yes'm. I remember. Treat Snape the same, animosity and all."
"Oh, of all the things you'd remember…" Anna shook her head in exasperation.
Sirius laughed.
Later on that night, just before curfew, Anna sprawled out on her bed and Sirius occupied the chair, she explained in greater detail what the debilitating curse had left her with.
"I'm the first person that anyone knows of who survived Satan's Curse without being insane, a Squib, somehow paralyzed, or all three," she said flatly, playing idly with the corner of the soft, standard issue quilt on her bed. "Healer Madison and Madame Pomfrey are going to monitor me for the next couple years at least, if not the rest of my life, just to make sure there are no lingering ill effects and also for the sake of a Healer's knowledge. But the curse did leave some…scars, I guess."
"What kind?" Sirius asked, hoping that he wouldn't be infringing on rudeness to ask.
Anna didn't take offense, but instead calmly answered. "Well, my magic itself is far weaker than it was—rather more comparable to the ability of a pre-Hogwarts magical child, to be honest. I've got all the knowledge and theory of the more complex spells and such, I just can't actually perform them. It'll take me months to build up my magical strength again, rather like a Quidditch player training for the big game, you know?"
Sirius nodded, face shadowed. "I'll help," he offered.
She smiled at him. "I know. Thank you."
They sat in a beat of silence, and then she continued. "Along with my magical…loss, any children I have in the future has a 90% chance of being a Squib."
"How do you feel about that?"
Anna looked thoughtful. "I was devastated at first, to be honest—it's not the greatest news to tell any witch, really, that any child she conceives is highly likely to be born a Squib. But…I've had a little time to come to terms with it, and I think—I think I would end up loving the child just as much whether or not he or she can Levitate a feather. It just wouldn't matter. And the Muggle families, they seem just as capable as we are of loving relationships and the real important things in life."
Sirius tipped the chair back on two legs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "That's very deep insight, Anna."
"Well—wouldn't you love any child you had regardless of whether it had magic or not?" Anna wanted to know.
"My parents certainly wouldn't," he said bitterly, turning his face away from the girl to stare sightlessly at the whitewashed walls and the pleasant, bland painting of a field of lavender.
"Oh, stop being a self-centered ass," the brunette girl scolded, her harsh tone having the effect of cold water dumped on his head. "You saw people at Summer Gathering who are in much worse circumstances than you, and yet you're complaining that your parents are cold fish? Sure they wouldn't win any prizes for parent of the year, but at least they never gave anyone permission for your murder—and you may not know this, but after it became obvious that you weren't going to come over to the Pureblood's way of thinking, Lord Malfoy contacted them with the two-way mirror asked if they wished to have to eliminated quietly. Your mother refused, and said that if you did anything drastic, she'd disown you formally, but you were still flesh and blood and she wouldn't hear of your being killed."
"They…she…my mother really did that?" Sirius was flabbergasted.
"She did." Anna's tone left no room for argument—and indeed, with that stubborn and almost fanatical glint in her eye, a look Sirius had never seen Anna portray, he was not inclined to question her judgment. Not out loud, at least.
"I…"
"You should talk to her. Some time—maybe Christmas," Anna told him forcefully, eyes boring into his.
"I never want to see her again," Sirius spat.
Instantly, Anna was up and shoving Sirius. Her rough hands a surprise and a shock, the chair Sirius was sitting on toppled backwards and he crashed to the ground, the breath driven out of him as he thumped painfully to the floor. "How dare you say that! How dare you treat your mother that way! You ungrateful git, she gave birth to you and cared for you and watched you grow up! She's your mother. You're such a self-centered little bastard, Black, never thinking of anyone but yourself. I never would have betrayed my family or my father like you did. You're a worthless good-for-nothing Blood-traitor, and I wish with all my heart that I'd never met you!"
Scrambling up, bewildered, angered, and almost scared by the manic intensity glowing in her normally expressive, calm eyes, Sirius opened his mouth—whether to yell back or to ask her what was wrong, he didn't know. She beat him to it.
"Get out. Get out! I don't want you in my room. I don't want you in my life. You should have just let me die, Black. Then I wouldn't be a traitor to my family and to my blood like you. I never want to see you again, not in a million years, do you understand? Get out!" Her voice raised hysterically until by the end, she was screaming, and Sirius watched with alarm as Anna's face turned frighteningly furious. She looks like crazy Bella during one of her 'moods', he realized uneasily, backing away from the distraught girl, slowly easing himself out of the door.
"Okay, okay, I'm leaving. See?" Sirius edged slowly away, the way one might try to back away from a dangerous creature that was deciding whether it wanted to take the effort to attack the measly human that had disturbed it or not. The minute he was outside, the door slammed violently shut in his face, actually hitting his nose and forehead in the process. Dazed, Sirius rubbed the offended parts and took another step back absentmindedly, stunned gaze still fixed on the firmly closed door and the hidden girl within it. What just happened? He wondered.
"Mister Black? Is everything all right?" Madame Pomfrey was at his elbow, and he jumped, unaware that anyone had been standing nearby. The school Mediwitch eyed him with a professional sort of curiosity, the kind that said, "I'm curious but I won't ask if you don't want to tell, and if you do it remains confidential."
"Oh…uh, yes, I guess." Sirius glared at the unmoving door. "She threw me out—just flew into a fit and threw me out," he informed her glumly.
"Of all the stupid, imbecilic, damn—no, not you, dear," Madame Pomfrey hastened to assure Sirius as the boy whipped his head around incredulously at both being addressed, and being addressed by Madame Pomfrey in foul, disparaging language…
"I'm sorry. Please excuse me." The matronly woman, dressed in simple robes with a Hogwarts crest and sage green Healer's stripe, abruptly hurried back down the corridor, entering the door to the Hospital wing. Taken aback by her sudden departure, Sirius didn't have time to feel affronted before the woman was back, a small vial cradled in one hand and her polished, honey-colored wood wand in the other. She knocked gently on Anna's door. "Anna dear—it's Madame Pomfrey. May I come in?"
A muffled response later, Madame Pomfrey had—with surprising dexterity, squeezed herself through the crack that had appeared in the doorway to let her in, and the door clicked shut again behind her. Is this another lingering effect on Anna from that stupid curse? Maybe I shouldn't have provoked her. But I never said anything I hadn't said before. Why should she take offense to it now, when she practically encouraged me to be myself before? Hurt and confused, Sirius turned and began to trudge back to the Gryffindor dormitory. He hadn't gotten far, however, before Madame Pomfrey's call stopped him short. "Mister Black? Please come to my office, I'd like to talk to you."
"It's curfew," Sirius pointed out sullenly.
"I'll write you a note," the efficient Mediwitch responded smartly. "Please, come in."
Left with no choice, Sirius reluctantly plodded back to the witch, and she bustled him into the section of the Hospital wing that was her office. "What did you want?" he asked, trying hard to temper his irritation.
Madame Pomfrey ignored his rather surly attitude. "I wanted to discuss Anna's condition to you. I have been informed that you were the person who rescued her, and you were her primary care-taker up until the Hogwarts term began?"
"Yes," Sirius acknowledged, his interest at learning more of what was happening to Anna overcoming his resentful mood.
"Has she told you anything of her current condition?"
"Her magic's weakened, and she has a large chance of having Squibs if she wants children," Sirius answered.
Madame Pomfrey nodded briskly, waving him to take a seat across from her cluttered desk. "Those seems to be the effects of the stopped Satan's Curse, unfortunately," she responded, sitting down herself. "But there is more. Healer Madison has also diagnosed her with something called post-traumatic stress disorder. It's actually originally a Muggle diagnosis, but a Muggle-born witch introduced the concept to the community perhaps three decades ago, and there have been several diagnoses of it since then. It is an emotional disturbance in which people who have been through a psychologically traumatic experience often show symptoms of nightmares and flashbacks, withdrawals from human contact, irritability, hyper-vigilance, and avoidance of anything that may trigger a flashback."
Post-traumatic stress disorder—there's an actual name for being screwed up after seeing your father die in front of you? Sirius thought incredulously. "So…"
"If it hasn't hit you yet, Mister Black, anything that might have occurred between you and Miss Nott tonight—any arguments or misunderstandings—is likely to have come from the fact that she has exercised her quota of calmness and reasonability for the day during dinner, and her tiredness and inability to sleep these past few days have combined to force you into the role of a trigger of the flooding of emotions she does not wish to feel," Pomfrey stated.
"Huh?"
"That means, she may try to avoid you or become distant from you or have unreasonable reactions to you," she translated.
"Oh. And it's not my fault?"
"No, most likely it will not have been caused in any way by you except in her mind in associating you with her father's death." Pomfrey looked askance at Sirius, her eyes obliquely implying something—Sirius was just too aggravated still to bother interpreting what.
Instead, he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. "Then…what should I do for Anna?"
"Good question, Mister Black, and one I will say I am very glad to hear you ask. Here's what Healer Madison and I consider the best approach to Anna's anxiety disorder…"
Author's Notes:
Yay new chapter! :) Reviews are always appreciated, and I wanted to thank every single person who has reviewed. You have no idea how much, even a one-word note, has really put a smile on my face and more importantly, in my heart. And for reading, all of you—I'm honored you're spending any amount of time to read this story! I know it's a bit off the beaten path in terms of plot and the mix of characters.
This chapter's title, "Shell Shock," comes from one of several terms used to describe post-traumatic stress disorder historically, before it became formalized and defined as post-traumatic stress disorder.
