Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his wondrous world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is just for kicks and giggles.
Summary: Snape's position as a spy is compromised when Harry's life is threatened. The beginnings of a journey together...
Spoilers: For all the books since I've read them all at least once… by the way, this story "takes place" after book five… but before book six, which leads me to...
Warning: This story is rated R (or by this site's rating system, M) for previous and upcoming chapters, including child abuse, graphic violence and the like. If you are bothered by such themes, I suggest that you do NOT read this story.
Please note that this story is NOT HBP COMPLIANT.
.o.
.o.
.o.
Circumstance
by Libellule
Chapter 21
Those dizzying first steps towards the cottage filled Harry with horror. His limbs felt heavy as he walked, laden with the weight of what his anger had done— what he had done.
I know that the magic is there within you. It's dangerous— Snape's words rang in his ears. He had tried to warn him about the danger—and what had Harry done? He'd lost his temper and in turn hurt Snape in a way he'd never imagined he could.
That memory imprisoned inside of Snape had been like a piece of glass buried deep within, and Harry, without any warning, had ripped it up to the surface.
He had never meant to hurt him— Harry had no idea the magic would erupt in such a violent manner.
What did that matter now that the harm was already inflicted? It did not take a wizard's power to feel the raw anguish that Snape suffered in the wake of this remembrance.
Snape might think that Harry had made a deliberate effort to access such an upsetting memory to hurt him on purpose. After what he had just witnessed, Harry knew this sort of tactic must have been used on him in the past.
He couldn't let this incident pass without talking to him and making him understand that it had been an accident.
Snape must understand that I never intended to hurt him, Harry thought resolutely, his mind made up.
Actually conveying this to Snape was another matter entirely.
Brimming with an odd combination of lethargy and dread, Harry peered cautiously through the doorway of the cottage.
He felt cold and coldness emanating from within the small dwelling.
"Professor?" he asked, stepping into the room.
In the darkened room, Snape sat on the edge of his chair, shoulders hunched with his arms wrapped about his middle as he stared unblinkingly at the floor obviously preoccupied in thought.
This image struck Harry hard— so very un-Snape-like, he looked consequently vulnerable and lost, his behavior reflecting that of the memory.
A tremor of fright ran though Harry— what if the wild magic had confused Snape's mind? What if he thought this moment now was actually all those years ago?
"Professor Snape?" Harry tried again, coming into the room and around to the front of the chair. Snape did not look at him, but his gaze shifted, though still focused on the floorboards.
That was a good sign as far as Harry was concerned. At least Snape was aware of his presence and not completely lost.
Silence filled up the space between them. His mouth was dry and Harry didn't know how to start. Words seemed inadequate.
Kneeling on the floor at Snape's feet, Harry peered into his face, which upheld none of the facade it usually did. He was struggling, plagued by inner torment that Harry could see plainly etched in the lines of his face.
Forced to keep everything in, to essentially block everyone out with the impassive mask of blank features and nearly dead black eyes, Snape did not know how to cope. He buried things. For all the years that he was a spy if his true feelings had became known it could have meant his death. Harry guessed that even before he turned spy he never allowed himself to show his emotions. Snape himself had told him that emotions made you weak.
Compelled by an impulse that defied reason, Harry gently slid his hand along Snape's forearm, traversing the long sleeve of fabric until it rested upon the bare skin of Snape's exposed hand.
As he had in the barn Snape jerked back, recoiling away from his touch, but Harry held fast to his hand. Snape glanced at him, his black eyes wide and frenetic.
It was clear to Harry that while he was aware of him, Snape's mind was addled— ensnared in his awful memories. Though it was Harry who held him, Snape undoubtedly saw Lucius' hand gripped around his own.
It was up to Harry to make Snape come back to the present.
He squeezed Snape's hand gently. "Hey," Harry whispered. "Look at me." Snape's eyes darted from Harry's hand to his face and back to the floor. He pressed them shut tightly as if to block out the demons in his head.
"Professor," Harry said, "You're here and now…" He smiled softly and added, "…with me. Leave the rest behind. They're just shadows of the past. They can't hurt you anymore, not if you don't let them."
He didn't know if his words would be enough, but he hoped that Snape would understand, if not through words then through his touch. Harry brought his other hand on top of the one he already clasped, capturing Snape's hand between his two. His grasp was gentle but firm. Harry was confident that it was drastically different from any sort of touch Lucius Malfoy had ever dealt him.
Harry waited.
It was quite a few minutes before Snape opened his eyes, but when he finally did he focused his gaze on him and Harry knew that he was back in this world.
"I'm sorry I made you remember that," Harry said softly. And he was sorry. Harry had lots of memories he'd rather forget but for every unpleasant one he had, Snape had two.
"I didn't— I didn't know," Harry continued. "I never, ever intended for that to happen."
Glittering in the evening light, Snape's eyes had a haunted, far-away look to them. He nodded slowly. He understood.
"Death Eaters do terrible things," Snape whispered. "Even to each other."
Harry nodded grimly. He had no doubt that was true. Harry had experienced their cruelness first hand. He'd witnessed how fast they turn on one another, too.
Exhausted, Snape sat back in the chair and Harry let his hand slide from his grasp. He looked at Harry, studying him for a moment before asking, "Are you alright, Potter?"
Harry gave him a puzzled look as if to say of course I'm okay and replied, "Why wouldn't I be?" I'm not the one who had his mind ravaged.
"You don't even realize how powerful you are," Snape said softly. A pained look of resentment and awe crossed his features. "A wizard of sixteen possessing such magic as this."
"It wasn't that strong," Harry asserted before asking, "was it?" The magic had overtaken him, but he thought that perhaps Snape was exaggerating a bit.
Snape snorted and replied, "Potter, may you never be on the receiving end."
"I'm really sorry," Harry apologized once more. "I won't let it happen again."
"This will be one of many incidents," Snape said almost too matter-of-factly. Upon seeing the outraged look on Harry's face he added, "It's not something that can be helped, Potter. You have to learn and I have to teach you."
Though Harry wanted to deny it up and down, in the end Snape would turn out to be very, very right.
.o.
.o.
.o.
Lessons became more dangerous for both student and teacher. Snape was convinced that the dormant magic within Harry would be the key to defeating Voldemort.
All that practice Harry had done without using a wand had actually intensified his understanding of magic. Now that Snape was allowing him to use his wand again Harry was amazed by the ease with which he could command magic. He could also push himself further now; every spell he knew contained more power.
The intensity scared him sometimes— especially when he witnessed the impact it had on others.
Dueling was quickly becoming a harrowing activity for Harry. Initially, he had looked forward to it. Having spent all those nights with the DA, not to mention his own experiences with dark wizards, Harry felt confident in his defense talents. He knew that it was vital that his dueling skills were superior to any Death Eater he might encounter and, of course, Voldemort himself.
Snape knew this, too, which is why he withheld nothing during their sparring. The only trick he never tried was using Unforgivables on him (and Harry thought part of his restraint was that he was waiting to see if Harry himself would use them first.)
In the beginning, Harry had been taken aback by the ferocity of Snape's attacks, even though Snape had warned him that he would hold nothing back. It took a while for Harry to come to terms with this and not take it personally.
Time and time again Harry found himself wandless or out-maneuvered at the hands of Snape.
Snape would stand over him after knocking him to the ground and scoff, "He who hesitates is lost, Potter," but then he would always extend his hand and offer Harry help.
His black eyes would sweep over him, silently assessing, making sure that Harry was all right. This coldness coupled with caring sent mixed messages to Harry until he finally came to accept it.
It was Snape's silent yet kind gesture that reassured Harry. He was tough on him because he wanted him to be the best…
He cares about me, Harry thought. It was this that allowed Harry to be merciless…
Their dueling became more intense after that. Harry no longer backed down from Snape, knowing that he would not hesitate to use every opportunity to stop him. They fought aggressively against each other, and the sparring never ended unless one had no options left or had become injured.
A formidable opponent, Snape smoothly avoided being struck time and time again, however, it was impossible for him to remain unscathed in the difficult business of teaching Harry to control his unwieldy, newfound power.
Sometimes Harry simply could not restrain the strong magic he had developed. It was akin to harnessing a hurricane. The magic fought to separate from Harry and emerge freely where it willed. Escaping his grasp, despite Harry's desperate struggle for control, the white-hot surge of energy would crash recklessly into Snape.
"Better," Snape would murmur just before falling back, unmistakably shaken. Guilt-ridden Harry charged over to him, wanting to provide the same care that Snape had shown him, only to be dismissed.
Harry wanted so much to repair the damage he had caused and it hurt him that Snape, despite all that had happened, still refused his help, still refused to show him weakness when Harry had proved his strength and devotion ten times over.
Snape's pride was a daunting obstacle that would be the most challenging to overcome.
This led to the argument…
.o.
.o.
.o.
"I refuse," Harry stated insolently. He stared stone-faced at Snape, his mind resolutely made up. He would no longer be any part of this.
"Potter, this is absurd!" Snape hissed, clearly furious.
This was the angriest that Snape had been with Harry in a long time. A thrill of nervousness ran through him, but Harry stood firm.
"Every time we duel, I hurt you," Harry retorted, throwing his arms up in the air. "I'm not going to do it anymore!"
Though Snape would refute it, the proof of his malaise was undeniable.
The evidence was the open window in the kitchen, left ajar to air out the mark of a thornapple cigarette smoked in secret; it was in the way Snape's breath hitched after an expenditure of magic; it was the coughing at night and the slow pacing until the fit subsided… these things Harry noticed.
"I don't see what choice you have," Snape said. "You can neither defuse nor ignite this magic within you. It will emerge and swallow you whole. You must learn."
"Not from you," Harry hissed, his voice quiet with rage.
Snape surveyed him without an ounce of sympathy. "If not me, then who?" he pressed.
Harry remained determinedly silent. He didn't like where this was going.
"Who would you jeopardize in my place?" Snape asked him. "Which of your friends would you risk harming because of your ineptitude? Give me a name."
"That's not fair," Harry snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
"A name, Mr. Potter!" Snape snarled.
Incredulously, Harry asked, "You'd make me choose? You or someone else? I suppose you think you're expendable, do you? An noble martyr in the arduous schooling of The Boy Who Lived?"
"Perhaps you're in your next Defense class and your magic erupts at your dueling partner, Miss Granger?" Snape posed to him, ignoring Harry's barb. "Or maybe it's simply entering the Gryffindor common room that your magic blindsides Mr. Weasley?" Snape's words stabbed at the heart of Harry's greatest fears—becoming a perilous danger to those around him.
What would he do if he hurt one of his friends? How could he ever forgive himself? But if something happened to Snape—
"Fine! Have it your way!" Harry shouted, knowing that he would not win this battle. He had no choice. "Be the consequences on your head."
.o.
.o.
.o.
The next few days were tense between them. Though neither brought up dueling or Death Eaters or magic or anything else that might remind them of the argument, it lurked just below the surface, very much in the forefront of their minds.
Surprisingly, Snape left Harry alone for a few days, not insisting that they spar or even have lessons of any kind.
This was both a blessing and a curse. Harry was glad for the rest and the avoidance of confrontation, but it left plenty of time for thought, speculation and suspicion.
He watched Snape with the scrutiny of an assassin, calculating every move Snape made trying to figure if his actions added up to injury.
It was impossible to tell. Snape knew Harry was watching him. Having been a spy for over a decade, Snape knew exactly how to become inscrutable, frustrating all of Harry's detective skills.
As he had done previously when he was upset or aggravated, Harry traversed around the wide area of farmland. One foot carefully placed in front of the other, he walked slowly along the top of the stone fence at the perimeter. Spending the downtime mulling around the farm, Harry wondered if Snape had found a new place for them to hide. He hadn't mentioned it since the first time he'd brought it up.
So much had happened here that Harry discovered he might actually miss this place. The Brennon's farm did have a quiet and peaceful atmosphere (despite the misadventures Harry had found there) unlike the frenzied pace of Hogwarts. His life there seemed like years ago now, as if Harry had aged decades in the short summer months.
The ancient castle was the first place Harry had ever considered to be his home and he did want to return to it.
What would Hogwarts be like now? Why did Harry feel a thrill of nervousness at the thought of being back inside its massive stone walls?
What if things change back to the way they were? Harry thought. What if he forgets all about this summer—what if he goes back to hating me?
This was a valid fear lingering in the back of Harry's consciousness. He and Snape were by no means best friends, but their relationship had drastically changed. Respect for one another had grown and a sort of kinship had developed between them.
It was strange. He didn't consider Snape to be the same sort of friend that Ron or Hermione was to him, but Harry wanted to share just as many things with Snape, however different, if not more than he would with any of his Hogwarts buddies.
The precise word suddenly struck him, seizing him by the heart.
Comrade. This word meant many things to Harry; a person you can trust, a companion who shares your experiences, someone who is down in the trenches fighting the same war you are, someone who knows, someone who cares— Snape had come to be all these things to Harry.
He's also a temperamental, stubborn, stern, cynical, disparaging, contemptuous hook-nosed, greasy-haired git, Harry thought with affection. He had to accept his friendship with the flaws.
But would their alliance survive the prejudice of Hogwarts? The head of Slytherin house and the Golden boy of Gryffindor found fraternizing— it just wasn't done.
Harry could enroll in "remedial potions" again in order to continue his lessons with Snape, however that didn't mean that he would want to revert back to their old roles of hating each other.
The worry stabbed at his stomach. Harry pushed it back, choosing to focus on it later when he had the chance to confer with Snape.
All encompassing, the silence roared around him, reminding him very of early morning after the insects had gone to sleep but before the birds warbled their morning songs. In that twilight, a calm was always found.
The eerie absence of sound sent a tiny shiver through him.
Call it premonition, Harry couldn't help but feel that Ireland wasn't through with them yet. Something else was coming. Only Harry couldn't guess what that something might be.
.o.
.o.
.o.
This was the most arduous duel Harry had ever fought against Snape. It felt as if they had been fighting each other for many hours instead of the reality: about thirty minutes or so.
A furious barrage of spells, one being deflected as soon as it was dealt, sent stray bolts of magic ricocheting around the barn.
The last spell hurled at him, Harry only partially deflected, and had to physically dive roll to avoid getting hit.
"Sloppy," Snape admonished during a reprieve from the action when they both paused to catch their breaths.
Harry knew better than to break focus to verbally spar with the old Potion's Master, whose words could be as cutting as a razor's edge.
Instead, he focused inward, concentrating deeply on his magic.
The beginning of comprehension was within his grasp. Harry could feel the power curbing to his will.
Harry eyed Snape keenly and knew with satisfaction that he was about to strike.
"Incarcer—," Snape began.
Before he could finish the spell Harry aimed his wand and said quickly, "Expelliarmus!"
The instant the magic shaped inside of him Harry realized that it was super-charged, many times more perilous than the spell he'd intended. Urgently struggling to reel it back in, Harry knew in his heart that his efforts were useless. Like a force of nature, he couldn't stop it. The best he could do was shout, "Snape!" in warning to him a millisecond before the spell made contact.
No ordinary expelliarmus, the shield charm that would have normally blocked the disarming spell yielded like a leaf in the wind, and Snape crumpled under the blast.
Snape hit the ground hard, slamming backwards into the solid earth with a sickening thud, knocking the breath clear out of him. He lay there for a moment, white flecks of light swirling before his eyes as a burning ache flooded his chest.
"I told you!" Harry shouted angrily, rushing to him. "I knew this would happen!"
"I'm all right," Snape hissed, clearly in pain.
"No you're not!" Harry retorted.
"Go back to the cottage," Snape snapped. Harry moved to help him but Snape waved him off.
"You're such a stubborn git!" Harry yelled. "Even now, after everything we've come through, you still won't listen to me—you won't even accept my help." He tore angrily from the barn, banging the door open aggressively and stormed outside.
.o.
.o.
.o.
The moment Harry left, Snape collapsed back, swallowing the coppery taste of blood. He didn't want Harry to know. Even though Harry had washed his hands of the consequences, Snape knew all too well that Harry would misplace the blame on himself.
Since coming to the farm, Snape had felt better, though he remained unwell. The rest he'd had there had only slowed the dark magic that was overwhelming him— it had not stopped it.
That deadly hex he'd been hit with all those weeks ago was still inside him like a virus, and with any expenditure of magic it was rekindled, tearing up his insides.
At first his pride had dictated that his deterioration was none of Harry's business but as time progressed, and they had gotten to know each other better, Snape found that he did not have the heart to tell him.
Secretly he had hoped to manage the symptoms until he had delivered Harry safely back to Dumbledore's care. It was evident now that that wasn't going to happen.
There were deterrents in his room at the cottage that might help him hold on for a little longer, if only Snape could make it there without Harry noticing.
The instant he sat up he regretted ever doing so. The burning pain in his chest intensified and he couldn't catch his breath.
Slowly, Snape edged from the barn beginning his long trek to the cottage, his arms wrapped around himself. Keeping the front door his focus, he struggled against his seizing lungs, just attempting to take shallow breaths.
Suddenly a coughing fit took hold of him, sending him crashing to his knees. As blood dripped from his lips, Snape knew he wasn't going to make it.
Collapsing back on the ground, he lay very still, and in spite of everything, still trying to catch his breath.
Coughing again, gurgling up blood, Snape gasped, "Not yet…"
Praying for more time with Harry, he pleaded for just a little bit longer to develop the strong magic within him. The boy could very well be the one who defeats the Dark Lord.
And—there was something else, too. Snape did not know how on this earth it had happened—he could not conceive of it really— but they had become emotionally involved with one another.
Inextricably linked.
Snape had neither siblings nor children of his own. Harry had become the closest thing to either he would ever know.
It seemed to be the final cruel joke that life was playing on Severus Snape. The boy he had loathed with so much of his soul would be the one person in the end who mattered most to him.
His thoughts, focused fixedly on Harry, were filled with sorrow. As the world dimmed around Snape, he did not know peace, but regret.
To be continued…
.o.
.o.
.o.
Author's notes:
You know all those warnings I've posted at the beginning of every chapter (that I'm sure most folks skip over by now)? Well, these next few chapters are what those warnings are for… I remember getting a review a loooong time ago that asked me why I rated the story so high and well… this is why. I want to err on the side of caution anyway.
Angst!Fest has started! Sorry for ending this one in this manner, but this is the way it must be. I need to take extra care with the next chapter… I'm sure you can all guess where it's headed (Angst!Fest). But don't worry. The good news is that I already have pages and pages and pages of 22 written. There are not too many chapters left… if anyone has been reading my LJ, you know already that I'm getting misty about the end of "Circumstance".
Speaking of my LJ you are welcome to friend me and leave comments about the story there (griseldajane . livejournal . com). Perhaps discuss the future of this strange Pre-HBP universe I've created… if there's any future for it at all.
Thanks for reading. See you next chapter!
- Li -