Hidden Things
Troubled Heart

xxx

The mouth of Severus Snape was set in a tight line that would hopefully prevent anyone from pestering him with the inane babbling that currently surrounded the Potions Master at the High Table at breakfast. He had not been wrong in his assumption last night. When dawn had broken the skies and the darkness of night rolled back for the benefit of the sun, that was the hour that Severus had finally wrestled himself into a much too fleeting sleep that he sorely missed now. He stifled a yawn, blinked his dark eyes several times and tried to ignore Hagrid's boisterous voice.

As usual, his ever present scowl did nothing to deter the Headmaster, who turned and spoke to him just then. "How was your sleep last night, Severus?"

"Fine, Headmaster," he replied automatically. He did not view it as a lie, even if it was not true, even though his rest had been troubled. It was his customary reply, a reflex that was as natural as the polite question the Headmaster had asked, though he did not doubt this time Dumbledore was truly concerned. He glanced at the older man and saw a knowing sparkle in his eyes. "As well as can be expected," he amended.

Professor Dumbledore gave him a touch on the shoulder, a touch that never failed to fill him with a strange sort of mixed feelings. It made him uncomfortable, chiefly, and he pulled away from it, and as always the Headmaster gave him that insufferable sigh that made him feel worse than the touch ever did. "I am sorry then, that I did not insist you receive help."

Severus grunted bitterly. As if there was help for the things he suffered. Dumbledore picked up on his emotions, as he always did and always would, looking even sorrier now. This line of conversation was heading nowhere he wished it to. "I thank you for your concern, Headmaster," he replied softly, stirring his tea with an absent fascination as he gazed into the liquid. He did not apologize for his demeanor, nor bother to for much of anything else of late. There came a time when one had to realize apologies were never going to cover the debt. His fingers tightened along the spoon.

"Severus, you have been quiet lately," Dumbledore observed shrewdly, not asking with words, but yet prodding in his own way for the reasons he sought. Did nothing get past the old man?

Very few in the school realized just how much the Headmaster knew. The Dark Lord was right to fear him, for a tremendous vault of knowledge lay locked away within this elder's keen mind. Spells and secrets, skills learned and honed over many more years than belonged to the enemy he fought so hard against. Severus had known all along hiding anything from Dumbledore would be more difficult than hiding anything from Voldemort. Despite that he did not give in to instinct, did not respond. The Headmaster would recognize some things were not his to know, if even he guessed within that all-knowing heart of his. Soon enough he would understand, or admit to himself the truth, if he suspected. Soon. Too soon.

The Potions Master pushed the spoon from his fingertips, looking away as it made a circle in the cup, sloshing tea over the sides onto the tablecloth. He did not care to clean it, much too tired and lost in his own brooding. His eyes were locked ahead on the entrance to the Hall. In such a focus, he missed the flash of true concern in those blue eyes of the Headmaster. Not that it mattered now, anyway. It would never again matter. Severus frowned as the doors opened, admitting Potter and his lackeys, and he found his glare darkening as he focused on the boy. Such an innocent face. The boy looked exhausted and pale. Perhaps it was well then, that they could not practice in two days, as he had told him. At least he would not be wasting his time attempting to train a weary child that could hardly stand, let alone actually absorb a little wisdom. Severus put his hands against the table, ready to depart breakfast and call the boy out before he would disappear for the day in his dungeons.

A hand on his arm stopped him and he remained seated. Dumbledore did not speak, nor did he remove his hand until finally, shielding his thoughts carefully, Severus turned and faced that crystal gaze of wisdom. "Is there something you wish to tell me about last night?"

There were a hundred things his soul cried out to tell about a hundred nights with Voldemort breathing down his neck, but Severus would never lower himself to do it. He was no weakling child, after all. "No. I have told you everything important," he responded, remaining still despite his desire to move. He was not sure what it was about Dumbledore that could trap a man so without any use of magic, but he supposed that would never change either. Those earnest eyes cared, and in some ways it seemed to hurt him more deeply than the Dark Lord's casting of the Cruciatus. And, as always, he hardened himself against it. "You know how it is with him. You know how...difficult these meetings can be."

"No man can serve two masters," Dumbledore whispered softly, almost to himself, and Severus turned a calculating look upon him. The older man gave a wan smile, remembering himself. He nodded, going on as if he had said nothing of consequence. "I understand you are under a lot of stress. If at any time you feel you are in too much danger, you know I would have you refrain."

Snape narrowed his brow irritably. "The information I bring to the Order is more valuable than whatever need for coddling you believe you perceive in me. I am not that selfish."

"No." Dumbledore's gentle eyes were infuriating to Snape just now. Oh, how he hated this feeling clutched around his heart, this tension he could not shake, but without being subject to Voldemort one simply could not understand what it was to go to him and pledge fealty. The Headmaster drew his hand back. "You certainly are not. Perhaps not selfish enough, even."

Cryptic, always cryptic. Whatever the Headmaster was truly driving at was a mystery he did not seem ready to unravel. Severus took that opportunity to stand up, making a hasty excuse, and then stalked away from the High Table. Perhaps he had guessed what was on the Potions Master's mind already, or perhaps he was being his mad self. Snape neither knew, nor truly cared at this moment. Slowing by where Potter sat idly with his friends, picking at his breakfast, Severus allowed his anger to focus upon another target. He stopped and gripped the boy's shirt roughly, shaking him to attention. "Get up and follow me," he hissed, then began towards the door, expecting to be obeyed.

He heard Potter mutter to his friends before scrambling to his feet to rush and catch up, just slipping through the crack Severus left in the large door he had let fall after moving through it. Outside the in the hall he whirled around when he was certain they were alone, then let his eyes fall upon those green eyes of Potter's. Reflected back at him was indignation and confusion. And something else, something strange and personal. Snape narrowed his eyes, forgetting to speak, as he began to probe the surface of the boy's thoughts. There was definitely something going on...

Unfortunately the lessons in occlumency had at least taught the boy to be particularly careful around him. Potter caught on to what he was doing and looked away before Severus could glean much beyond that he filled this boy's thoughts well past the curiosity of being dragged away from his breakfast. He moved closer and reached out, saying in a low command, "Look at me, Potter."

Potter drew his shoulder away from his teacher's touch and shook his head firmly. "No, Professor," he replied, and Severus knew by the tone there would be little he could do to convince the boy to share his thoughts. A detention or any further insistence would incur the Headmaster's interference, so he would merely have to wait and catch the boy unaware. For now Potter's eyes were glued to his hands as he fidgeted. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked, sounding nervous. Oh, now Snape was very interested in what was inside this boy's mind. Very interested indeed.

Where force would not compel him, guile may serve, so Severus did not respond as harshly as he might have under other circumstances. "Yes. I will not be available Monday night. Meet me tonight or we will have to wait until my schedule is more convenient. That may be some time." He had been poised to tell Potter they would continue their private lessons on Tuesday, perhaps, or Wednesday if time permitted, but he was far too curious now, and desired to move their meeting up to tonight. Now weakness would serve him, for in such a state his student would be more apt to forget and let his thoughts betray him.

Instinct motivated Potter to glance up at him briefly, not but long enough for his teacher to capture his secret. He ran a hand through his hair and said a bit shortly, "Sure. I guess. Midnight, I suppose?

Severus quirked an eyebrow and replied sarcastically, "Perhaps we should meet earlier and allow the entire school to see me training you, including Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. I will send the Dark Lord a courtesy note, telling him that I can no longer serve him for my own safety, of course, and leave explaining to the Headmaster why his single most important spy is no longer in operation to you. Does that appeal to you more?"

Potter rolled his eyes, but still kept from looking directly at him. "Midnight it is. Can I go back to my breakfast now?"

"You may, if you can amend your tone with me. Respectfully, Potter, respectfully."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The boy crossed his arms and waited for a dismissal.

Grunting, Severus swept away from him and headed on towards the dungeons, puzzling what might be going on inside that boy's head. He was conscious of Potter's watching stare as he opened the dungeon door, and it unnerved him for some reason. It felt like everyone could see through him these days.

Xxx

"What is it with you today?" Ron asked plaintively as they began to leave the Quidditch pitch. It was a bright Saturday, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and Hagrid was putting on quite the show chasing after Abner, but Harry could not concentrate on anything but his own pensive thoughts. He had shrugged off the vision to his friends, telling them he hadn't seen his father, but Hermione wasn't convinced. Her doubts were rubbing off on Ron more and more as the afternoon passed. "You let that beater knock you right away from the Snitch that one play. Don't be surprised if you have a great big bruise or something."

Harry nodded and shook his head absently. "Yeah. I won't."

Ron bumped into him purposefully, knocking him off stride towards the right. "Wake up, will you? What, did Snape tell you he's going to poison you after all or something this morning?"

He might as well have, for all Harry was feeling inside. He certainly felt like the man had poisoned him, even though he steadfastly did not believe one little bit that Snape was even remotely related to him. It was unthinkable. There had to be some other explanation for what he had seen last night. But his thoughts would not leave him be, and the vision he had seen tormented him the whole morning. What had Snape seen in his mind this morning? Had he slipped beyond the barrier before Harry could stop him? No, he couldn't have. If he had Harry felt certain the Potions Master would have reviled him violently and denied him the training he had offered. Yet the teacher was suspicious of something, obviously. That was a certainty that made Harry feel intensely uncomfortable, for he could not see how he could avoid the man's gaze forever.

It was a problem that teased the core of him like a mosquito might bite the unwary adventurer in the woods, little pricks that left itchy spots on his mind. Harry glowered as Ron pushed him off course again. "I'm sorry, Ron. I just have a lot on my mind is all. I told you all Snape wanted was to talk over some lessons."

"You have that Trance on your mind, haven't you?" Ron asked, coming uncomfortably close to the truth of the matter. His friend shook his head and shuddered. "I don't think you should try it again. Not soon, anyway."

"I have to," Harry responded, meeting his gaze gravely. If only he knew why! But telling Ron such a thing would be a disaster.

And because he lacked the vital piece of the puzzle, Ron could not grasp the importance of the Trance to Harry. "Honestly, you don't know how bad you looked, Harry. You scared me! You know I'm not the sensible one in this friendship. That's saying something."

Harry smirked at his friend, but could not give in to such kind concern. "I'm sorry, but I have to follow this through. It's important."

His friend's eyes looked full of a certain recognizable pity, and inside Harry tensed, though he tried not to show it. Ron stopped him just outside the door leading back into the castle. "Mate, maybe it's time you gave it up. Maybe...maybe you aren't supposed to see anything. Maybe there's nothing to see, if you get what I mean."

He got it all right. Harry's gaze turned a bit frosty, as always it did whenever anyone suggested he should let go of Sirius. "I understand. You're wrong," he retorted firmly, then sighed when Ron flinched. This was foolish. The reason wasn't even about Sirius and he could feel himself preparing for a fight. Harry absently rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, watching Professor Lupin approach from Hagrid's hut. "Sorry. Look, I'll meet you at dinner, okay? I've got something to do before then."

Ron smacked him on the shoulder, then took his Firebolt to carry up to the dorms for him, which Harry let go of gratefully. As his friend disappeared inside his favorite teacher stopped, seeing his gaze. "Hello, Harry. You look a bit preoccupied. Can I do something for you?"

He shrugged, uncertain himself just how far he wanted to go with his curiosity. As Lupin held open the door, he went inside and fell into stride at the teacher's right. "I was curious about my mum, actually." Lupin smiled fondly at the mention, but did not interrupt. "Well, what sort of friends did she have?"

The teacher knit his brow and shoved his hands into his pockets with a thoughtful expression. "Well, she had the usual sort for a girl. Other girls she laughed with when your father did something foolish in front of her." He grinned wryly. "There was a girl in Ravenclaw she studied with. A beautiful girl." A note in his voice betrayed he might have thought a little more than mere notice for that one. "She wasn't like Hermione exactly, hanging around with us boys, though she and I studied together a few times."

Harry nodded, feeling satisfied with that, but still not enough to let go of what he had seen. "What about her, um...boyfriends?"

Lupin widened his eyes and laughed at that. "I didn't make it my business to know many of those, Harry. She was a beautiful girl, though, so I can hardly imagine James as being her only suitor."

"And the one right before my dad?" he prodded curiously.

The other shook his head. "I'm not sure who it was, actually. She was a private girl, so I know very little of her life before dating your father." The Defense teacher inhaled deeply and stopped there in the hall. "Why do you ask?"

The need to know seemed suddenly to outweigh the need to hide what he was getting at. Harry chose his words carefully, deciding to be blunt, but keep his concerns at least somewhat concealed. He looked up into Lupin's eyes, almost pleading for what he wanted to hear. "It's just, I had a...a dream that my dad wasn't really…my dad. It sort of bothered me. I know. Stupid, really. But even now I don't know everything about my parents. Or my grandparents on his side, for that matter."

Lupin stared at him a moment with an unreadable expression, as if weighing the idea or weighing what he was going to say. His silence made Harry nervous, but it didn't last. "Harry, your dream was just that. A dream. Of course James was your father. You're starting to look a lot like your mother these days. you know." The professor paced a little, then turned towards him with a thoughtful look. "Towards the end she always had that pensive expression you're wearing just now, when she thought no one was looking. But that doesn't mean James isn't there either." His eyes traced his student's features. "What on earth would make you pay any heed to such a dream?"

Hiding his gaze as if it would reveal his thoughts, Harry turned away and ran his fingers along the edge of a windowsill. "I just...wondered. Someone else suggested my father wasn't who I thought he was," he said evasively. It wasn't entirely a lie. Snape, by being present in his vision, was inadvertently suggesting his father was not James Potter. It was a rather questionable way of looking at it, but Harry couldn't bear to believe he was outright lying to his last tie to his parents, yet neither could he reveal the terrible thing on his mind. Say it were true, what would Lupin think of him then? He couldn't stand to think of it. Or what Sirius would have thought. He closed his eyes, trying to reassure himself.

Lupin put his hands on Harry's shoulders and drew him around, looking him in the eyes. "Harry, whoever suggested that was wrong. And even if they weren't, would it truly matter now? James Potter loved you and I see him in you, in who you are."

Would it truly matter? He had not expected to hear that. Yes, of course it would matter. It would change everything he understood about himself, surely. "Even if it they weren't?" he repeated, knitting his brow at his friend. "You don't sound so certain now."

"What?" Lupin floundered a moment, running his hand along his hair. He shook his head. "Now, I didn't mean it like that. Don't twist my words to believe the worst. You are James Potter's son, and that's that."

Harry stared his father's friend in the face gravely. "Are you sure?"

There was a brief flicker of emotion in his eyes before Lupin said, "Yes, Harry. Now promise me you won't torment yourself needlessly over a dream."

He couldn't tell what that emotion was or what it meant, nor could he promise that he was completely reassured, but his friend sounded certain. He nodded and mumbled a good-bye, then turned before Lupin could say any more. He wouldn't lie. He couldn't. Not Remus Lupin. And yet he himself had given the man a misguided truth, when surely Lupin would believe him incapable of it. Harry felt unhappy he had pursued the subject at all. Why had he even asked? It was stupid. James Potter was his father and that was that.

Xxx

"Rictusempra!"

The moment the word passed his lips Harry had a sudden panicked feeling rush through him. No, no. It could lead to no good, the casting of this particular spell, and yet he had gone on ahead, just like a right bloody fool, and said it. Now it was done, and he was going to pay for it with blood, he was certain. He was going to die tonight, without ever having to face Voldemort. The only trouble was he supposed that might not have been nearly as bad as what was going to happen to him shortly.

He watched with wide eyes, in morbid fascination, as the spell took hold of his victim. There was a thump that seemed unnaturally loud, as loud as thunder to match his thundering heart, as his foe's wand hit the dirt there at the very beginnings of the Forbidden Forest. Harry followed its descent with his green gaze, given keen vision by the light of an almost full moon and the soft orange coming from a window at Hagrid's hut some yards away. And then movement drew his eyes back upwards.

Professor Snape's arms were drawn around himself as if he were suffering the most potent, the most dreaded of pains imaginable. The dark Potions Master sank to his knees, and Harry tensed as his usually straight mouth twisted into a somewhat frightening smile. And then the sound...it was nothing short of terrible. His teacher doubled over in great effort, but could not contain it any longer. Snape began to snicker at first, and that in itself was quite alarming to the young Gryffindor that stood there in the dark, witnessing the event.

But fear, it seemed, did not grant wisdom in such dire circumstances. Harry was transfixed, watching this terrible tyrant before him start to smother in laughter. It was a paradox to the man's very existence, such a vibrant, unguarded display of joy. It was oddly fascinating, and though his wand was pointed towards Snape, and the incantation to end this strange show on his lips, Harry simply did not utter the words. Professor Snape gasped in a breath and kept his head down, trying so very hard not to laugh, but the spell could not be overpowered by will alone. He laughed, and the noise hit the air, carrying along the breeze. He threw back his head and continued to express his forced mirth, but those dark eyes told a vastly different story of emotion than his mouth. He was very angry. In the past hour Harry had done a lot of hexing and had received a lot in return, but this crossed a barrier that enraged the dark teacher.

Hagrid's door opened, and that alone drew Harry out of his trance. Cursing, he aimed his wand again, hissing, "Finite," throwing himself down behind a great rock so that his friend would not see him out on the grounds. Professor Snape likewise drew himself into the shadows, concealing himself behind a drooping branch of a nearby tree.

"Anyone out there?" the half-giant called. A moving light suggested he had a lantern with him. Harry swallowed hard, hoping that Hagrid would let it go and not come out here. He chanced a look around his rock and saw the great man looking out along the grounds, searching for the source of what he had heard. The seconds seemed to pass painfully slow before finally he turned back towards his hut, probably having decided it had been his imagination.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but gave a start when two hands fell on his shoulders, gripping his shirt and jerking him up away from the rock. He tumbled to the dirt clumsily and scrambled back as the towering teacher stood over him, his wand pointed lethally downwards. Harry gulped, feeling for his own wand, coming up empty as Snape growled, "If you ever cast that spell on me again you will spend the rest of the year in detention! I promise you, Potter, so help me..."

"All right, all right. Never again, I swear," Harry retorted testily, sitting up and dusting his hands off on his jeans. He shoved himself off the ground and grabbed his wand that had fallen a few feet away. When he looked up Snape was still glaring warily at him.

"I don't know what possessed you to use that spell, but..." he started, obviously rattled to his core by his own display.

Harry shook his head. "I've learned my lesson, I pro-"

"Mordere!"

He dropped his wand again and curled inward as the now very familiar stinging sensation stole over him quickly. It lasted an uncomfortable few minutes longer than usual before his teacher finally uttered the ending incantation, leaving him to heave a sigh as he snatched up his wand, glaring at the Potions Master. "That wasn't necessary, you know."

Snape sneered at him, then shrugged as he hissed the spell once more. He stopped as Harry groaned, frowning at him darkly, contemplating the cost of casting Rictusempra on him in front of the whole school in the morning. And he let Snape read that fervent image in his thoughts, too, which drew a soft smirk from the man before him. "Always the little Gryffindor, waiting politely for your turn to cast a counter spell. Pitiful. You will never defeat the Dark Lord this way."

Still holding his wand, Harry pointed it with a great effort, trying to cast the self same spell on his enemy, but Snape was too fast and cast a counter, then muttered the Finite spell, which made Harry gasp as the stinging hex left him. He rubbed his arm nonchalantly, but had another idea in mind, growling, "Mordere!" again. This time it hit Snape before he could react and left him standing there, trying not to show that it had much effect on him at all. Harry glared at him, then discontinued the spell on their agreement that no effect should last longer than a moment or two. He fought a yawn and watched as Snape watched him. He had been looking at him all night, forcing Harry to mind his thoughts and keep his eyes away.

He turned his head and just as he did, Snape said, "Impedimenta," stopping him dead in his tracks. The teacher cocked his head and started to circle the boy, and at that point Harry knew he had caught the tail end of his last thoughts. "Potter, Potter. Tell me what's on your mind, will you?" His voice was smooth as silk, a threatening tone Harry knew not to heed to.

"Defeating the Dark Lord," he replied automatically, unwilling to give any more than that. He swallowed as Snape stopped right in front of him. If he could have, he would have bolted, but as it was he could only keep his gaze fixated on the ground.

"You're not being entirely honest," Snape observed coolly, reaching down and cupping Harry's chin in his hand. He lifted, and the student immediately resisted, but the spell kept him quite pliable. Harry closed his eyes, causing his teacher to snarl in disgust and push his cheek away. "I will learn your secret, make no mistake. Unless you, by some miracle, learn to guard your thoughts, I will find you unaware and understand whatever it is you are trying to hide."

Harry opened an eye to peek at Snape, seeing him pacing away, probably trying to decide how best to torment the secret out of him. Of all the people in this school he wanted to share that vision with, this man was the last on the list. He would not, could not let him know what he had seen. Harry slowly and uncertainly worked his wand towards the Potions Master's complacently turned form, and in triumph, said, "Procidere!" He watched as the black robed figure toppled forward to the grass.

Snape turned and caught his eyes, but could not recite the Legilimens incantation before Harry squeezed his eyes shut again. He heard the other sigh as he pulled himself to his feet. "Finite," set him free. Harry stumbled, then aimed his wand to ready himself. To his surprise Snape shook his head and waved him off. "Enough."

Without another word Snape began towards the castle. Harry wondered if this were some ruse, but decided he was too tired to continue playing games. He hoped the professor felt the same way. That had been close. Snape was definitely on to him. He had to figure out some way of hiding his thoughts or all would be ruined. A deal with Dumbledore or not, he had a feeling that if the Potions Master had any inclination of the thoughts swirling around in the young Gryffindor's mind he would not allow him back into his class, and would probably make his life a living hell if he could do it to spite him.

Yet that same curiosity from earlier tickled at Harry's senses as he took up stride beside Snape. The teacher had his arms crossed, barely acknowledging his presence, and would likely spurn any and all questions directed to him, but just as with the Rictusempra spell something in Harry decided to play with fire. "I know you hated my dad and his friends," he said conversationally, feeling like an idiot doing so with this man, "but did you hate my mum too? She did try to defend you."

Snape huffed a breath, but made no other sign the question perturbed him in the slightest. "She was a Mudblood," he said, as if that explained everything.

Harry rolled his eyes. "D'you honestly buy into that 'Mudblood' rubbish? After all, look at Volde-"

"Hold your tongue, Potter!" Snape warned him hotly, then frowned at him in a very dark way that warned Harry. "What I 'buy into' is none of your business. If you wish to reminisce fondly about your ill-begotten parents, then why not pester Lupin? He would surely be a better source of their foolish hijinks than I would."

"Fine," Harry sighed, frustrated, but not willing to question any further. They reached the castle, and the Potions Master jerked the door open, swooping in and not bothering to give Harry time to enter after. He had to catch the door and push it to allow himself entry, and as he did he watched Snape stalk towards the dungeon without waiting. There was no way that man could be his father. No way.

Xxx

Author: Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

Disclaimer: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

A/N: -

Taken from Latin Aid on the Notre Dame website:
procido -cidere -cidi to fall forwards.

Thank you to my reviewers, as always! You guys are awesome. Glad you guys thought it interesting. Writing the vision was fun. Cookies for all and um...M&Ms! ;-)