...
Rubbing his palms against his temples, Harry could already sense a headache brewing rather rapidly. His current mood could only grow further dismal as the afternoon pressed on, with deeper and more painful memories dragged to the surface and broadcasted for Snape's inspection.
The remainders of their lunch had long been littered with leaves. As well as a gently fluttering lady bird crawling along the inside of his elbow, a rather large, dotted leaf had wedged itself between the greasy roots of Snape's hair.
Harry allowed himself a brief smile as a gentle breeze ripped through his t-shirt and cooled the perspiration on his face. He stretched back in his chair and allowed his mind to slip back into blissful blankness for a stolen moment, his every muscle taut with tension.
''What's the time, professor?''
''There is time enough for this,'' Snape responded quietly from across the table. ''I shall make sure of it.''
Without checking, Harry was well aware that Snape's dark eyes were fixed on his face, constantly scrutinizing with that deep, almost aching expression the man had adorned throughout the afternoon.
His long fingers rapped a delicate pattern across the table top, but the tightness of his jaw and colourlessness of his face revealed the true depth of his involvement in the conversation.
It made Harry extremely uncomfortable, for he knew that in his current state, he was stripped of his most vital layers of defence and left completely vulnerable; he was transparent. And unlike occlumency, his emotions were shared by pure free will. All Snape had to do was listen.
Snape was not pitying him in the slightest, or even offering much verbal compassion, but the true nature of his understanding went to a much deeper level. Harry knew that his pain was not being ignored.
Chances were, Snape knew more than enough of Harry's past to gather a decent picture, but letting Harry continue to talk and air his suffering, without fear of judgement, would be the key to the boy's own slow, but vital recovery.
''You are far too tense,'' Snape spoke again a moment later, when Harry forced his eyelids back open. An apple was dusted off brusquely and forced into his palm.
With a small smile, Harry's gaze flickered up to the fruitful tree above his head, and he raised it to his mouth.
''For a wizard your age you are far too undernourished,'' Snape reprimanded, as in way of explanation. ''Your relatives no longer have influence over the quantity or nutrition value of your meals. There is no excuse for a poor diet, Potter.''
''What does it matter?'' Harry responded wearily, though he bit into the fruit with relish, savouring the juice that ran down his chin.
To Harry's surprise, Snape appeared angered by the question. He passed the boy a napkin roughly, eyeing the mess with disdain. ''It matters, Mr. Potter, because despite your insolence, you have been granted the task of our glorious saviour. You are needed in one piece,'' he snapped, fighting down the paternal instincts that urged him towards altering more than just the boy's bad eating habits.
He tightened his lips briefly before lowering his voice and adding, far more honestly, ''It matters, you fool, because you deserve more.''
Harry stared at Snape sceptically, swallowing his mouthful carefully. ''I deserve no more that I get. There are far more people worse off than I ever was-''
''And with whom are you comparing yourself?'' Snape asked abruptly.
When Harry merely shrugged, he winced briefly before leaning forwards with a sharp explanation. ''You never had much, Mr. Potter. Poor clothes, little food... From a mere child you have known extensive abuse, both physically and mentally. Therefore, you have rather predictably, unconsciously deemed yourself unworthy of sufficient care.''
Snape paused, as though expecting Harry to protest, or at least make an argumentative point, but he merely sat quietly, listening with strained attention.
Snape felt a pang in his chest at the bleak picture the boy made, unable to constrict the rare empathy that reached out to him.
''As much as your instincts ensure that you are kept alive, you treat yourself as though you were worth little.''
Harry frowned as he thought this over, responding tentatively when Snape raised an eyebrow for an answer. ''I... never considered that I was behaving that way, professor.''
''Neither did I at your age,'' Snape answered vaguely, before he could stop himself. His past was just too close to the boy's to prevent linking them in his mind.
With that knowledge, Snape felt an odd warmth in the dark void inside of himself, where such memories of his own past had spent years locked away, festering unhealthily. The fact that he was the biggest hypocrite alive had not escaped his notice, which was why he forced himself to remain uncharacteristically patient when Harry was so reluctant to speak. He knew how painful it was to pick at old wounds.
''You were the same?'' Harry asked, voice rising in interest.
''I... became what I was taught to,'' Snape answered slowly and busied himself with re-collecting his lost chess pieces. ''If you are convinced for long enough that you are worthless, it is what you shall become. That, for you Mr. Potter, is a dangerous concept.''
''Your uncle, I presume, founded this idea in your mind?'' Snape added a moment later, when he glanced up to find Harry lost in his thoughts.
''Mm. And my Aunt, and especially Dudley. Then I came to Hogwarts ... ''
Biting his lip in debate over whether he should continue, Harry fixed his hands in his lap and peered determinedly over the chessboard. He motioned to Snape that he wanted to play again and with great care, moved one of his pieces forwards.
''I thought I'd finally have a chance to prove myself. To be more than I was.''
''And you have, on countless occasions,'' Snape reminded him sharply. ''There is no doubt, Potter.''
''Yeah, but that was all part of some big... destiny,'' Harry explained, his brow creased. ''It wasn't helping me get any closer to finding out who I really was, but discovering who I was supposed to be. Getting back that Philosophers Stone was Dumbledore's way of introducing me to Voldemort. The Chamber Of Secrets was just another adventure to prepare me for yet more meetings with the person who murdered my parents. Me, Harry. Without a weapon in my hand, or a public speech to make. Who wants to know him? The Chosen One, is suffocated. Harry is lonely and... useless.''
Snape stared hard at him, distasteful. ''That is your honest self-opinion, Potter? If so, it nothing short of pitiful... and far off of the mark.''
Harry glanced up and snorted. ''Not too long ago, professor, it was you more than anyone that confirmed my waste of space. You're a teacher. On my first day at Hogwarts you used your position of authority to confirm everything I'd already been taught. If I was not in the way somehow, a burden... then I was the 'class celebrity.' '' Harry quoted Snape's words from his first year with unconcealed bitterness.
''People hated me, judged me... or glorified me. No one saw me for who I was, or bothered to look beyond my scar. Not even Ron and Hermione at first. I was the 'Boy Who Lived,' from the moment I set foot on the train.''
Snape's eyes flickered to Harry's forehead, where the famous mark was clearly visibly through his dark fringe.
''A shame,'' he said vacantly, his face closed and unreadable, when it appeared Harry was waiting for acknowledgement of what he'd confessed.
Unsure whether Snape's sarcasm was intended as scornful, or was even mocking at all, Harry continued more carefully, with a harder tone. ''Then I grew up, and realised that maybe I was just a tool... That Harry and Potter are two different people, and were always intended to be. Harry is not worth the time of day. Harry's life is predestined. Harry won't have a way to turn once this war is over. It is what I stand for now that matters.''
The ugly expression on the boy's face did not make a pretty picture. Snape frowned at the sight of it, while withdrawing slightly from Harry's words in both disgust and surprise at the blunt honesty he'd received.
At least the boy knew the seriousness of his position, even if he had gained a rather twisted outlook.
''You distinguish very clearly between the two?'' Snape asked softly, curious, yet also disturbed by the revelation. ''Two people. The repressed and the... model.''
Harry nodded in confirmation Snape was afraid of, surprised that the man had understood his meaning so quickly, even if it was one he was rather ashamed of.
Snape gave a brief hum and they fell into a stony silence.
It was partly his own doing that Harry had such a negative view on his person, Snape knew, but he also had to accept, for the first time, that Dumbledore had a fair share of blame to take for the boy's current psychological condition.
Snape nudged forwards a pawn with his thumb, without looking down, just to give the boy something to focus on.
It was a long while into the following silence that Harry finally raised his eyes to his teacher, knowing that he would have to sometime.
Snape, however, was not looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the edge of the table, dark and distant.
Whatever internal debate the man was undergoing, Harry didn't like it. Snape appeared disturbed. Distasteful even. It made him appear even uglier than usual, with his face twisted so, but Harry watched the rare emotion with a strange satisfaction. Snape was feeling because of him. He was gradually breaking through that barrier of indifference the man attempted so hard to wear through any situation even remotely emotional.
''You...'' Snape begun finally. He cleared his throat and begun again, calm composure restored. ''As I have mentioned on countless occasions, Potter, you are no more, or less special than any other child, no matter what the headmaster may believe. You have a destiny, and therefore, you are marked. However, I must... recall any previous assumptions that isolated you from your peers in a way that has... demined you. Particularly personally. You are merely human. You have the right to be treated as such. All those who oppose such an obvious fact are as foolish as I.''
Harry threw his apple core onto the table, his face pale.
''You believe that you are worthless?'' Snape asked seriously.
Harry hesitated. ''No. Perhaps... I definitely used to. Now I just... feel a bit...''
''Go on, Potter,'' Snape encouraged, his face a curious frown.
''Empty,'' Harry admitted finally. ''It's the same feeling I get in my nightmares. Like I'm... alone. I know there are people that care for me, but no one that really understands. No one that I can relate to in the slightest. I'm... an outcast-''
An ungraceful snort cut Harry's speech short. For the second time, it appeared he had made Snape angry.
''An outcast?'' he sneered. ''You do not know the meaning of the term.''
Gradually, Harry's eyes widened as he thought more carefully about what he had said. He bowed his head. He'd no right to complain about loneliness in any form when he was facing the most solitary man in Britain; a man who really did know how it felt to live on the outside, always looking in.
''No,'' Harry agreed quietly, ''I don't suppose I do. I'm sorry, pro-''
''Enough of this,'' Snape snapped harshly, reminding Harry rather unpleasantly of the impatience in Snape's nature. ''The intention of this discussion is not to encourage self-pitying, Potter.''
Taking a breath, Snape recovered his temper. Harry was only still a child, after all, and his fear and doubts were completely rational, and not to be measured against his own.
''This discussion has turned far too wayward. As you well know, Potter, my... regard of you is far from similar to previous assumptions made during your first year, and long before. You are far from... worthless. Your critical position in this war is unfortunate, but it cannot be avoided. If I have not at least partially enabled you to accept this destiny throughout your training, then you have failed to follow the appropriate teachings.''
Instantly, Harry tensed and threw back a hurtful retort of his own as Snape turned cold on him. He knew Snape's past was equally, if not more dark than his own, but that did not make his own any less important. The 'pity' remark had hit hard.
''You helped convince me I was something to be avoided! Now you're suddenly on my side? Why should I listen to you anyway? It's people like you that pretend Harry doesn't even exist.''
Snape's venomous stare withered as he considered the seriousness of the accusation. ''I understand my opinion may not mean much to you Potter, but in these circumstances, I will only be honest with you. I have no delegation to know you... personally. That said, any previous assumptions that I may have made-''
Harry gave a soft snort. ''So, you were wrong about me before?''
Snape's eyes narrowed briefly, fixed on the boy in warning. ''Do not bait me, Potter. I shall not make any heartfelt confessions.''
''Why?'' Harry found himself blurting out, the stress of the afternoon momentarily bubbling over.
He wanted to like Snape, but the man wouldn't make it easy. Selfishly, he just wanted to hear the man say that he cared more than on a professional level. And without the strict classroom voice and the 'assumptions' speach he'd heard many times now. Why was that so off limits?
''Because that is not the way I do things,'' Snape answered tersely, intending to divert the conversation at the nearest opportunity. ''Encase you haven't noticed, Potter, I am hardly the man to sing your praises.''
Harry frowned, irritated by Snape's apparent indifference. ''Well, you could at least pretend like you care about Harry once in a while, and not just Potter.''
Snape scowled at the boy, insulted by his sudden childishness and need for reassurance of his feelings.
He sighed, ignoring the desire to pinch the bridge of his nose and simply admit defeat.
''I am.''
''What? How?''
''Do you honestly believe I would be sitting here, allowing my ears to shrivel with such morbid tales, sharing another's burden if I did not care for them?'' Snape asked impatiently. ''Contrary to popular belief, people are not that generous, and I less than most.''
A flush crept up Harry's collar. ''But-''
''It is my way, Potter, and if it is not good enough for you, I suggest you cease demanding the impossible.''
Harry sighed and bowed his head, suddenly very tired. Snape was right. He was being selfish and unreasonable. He had no right to ask for anything. ''Professor, I'm sorry.'' He rubbed a hand over his face and cringed. ''I know that. I think... I still have a lot of growing up to do.''
''In that, Mr. Potter, we are in agreement.'' Snape leant back in his chair and some of the tension left his shoulders. He had known this wouldn't be easy, but for some insane reason, he was persistent in getting to the bottom of these problems. It was the one assistance he believed he could offer the boy, that would actually prove a life-long use to him.
''But there is time.''
Harry nodded, still feeling the desperate need to explain away his insecurities. ''I just needed to know that... I'm being pathetic, but-''
''I understand. But I have said it before, Potter and this shall be the last time. Do not lean yourself so heavily upon me. I shall move without pre-warning and you will fall. Do not think I will catch you. Harry will have time to do whatever he pleases once his destiny has been fulfilled.''
''And if he doesn't?'' Harry asked, face crinkled in a doubtful frown.
''If life not enough of an incentive to win?'' Snape asked, eyebrow raised quite calmly, while his heart was becoming more distracting as it beat against his ribcage. ''A promise of.. a more satisfying future?''
Harry nodded solemnly, and Snape moved swiftly on. He was unwilling to allow their conversation to run in circles.
''Now enlighten me to your more than frequent experiences with dementors.''
Harry groaned under his breath, shuddering at the very thought. ''Any time in particular?'' he asked, simply to buy himself time.
Unimpressed, Snape responded with limited patience. ''Third year. A detailed account, if you will, Mr. Potter, noting all emotions as appropriate.''
With that, the man settled back and watched Harry struggle through an answer.
A sharp shrill broke through the humid air of the garden, just as the sun had begun to slip more rapidly out of sight. Snape and Harry glanced up simultaneously, their concentration broken.
''Dumbledore's here?'' Harry guessed aloud, glad for the distraction into his account of a particular gruesome nightmare involving Lucius Malfoy.
Snape merely cast him a sharp glance and rose to his feet, his face flickering with blatant irritation at the interruption. To disturb Harry mid-flow was to destroy the poor fluency of the boy's speech entirely.
As expected, Dumbledore appeared a moment later on the patio, the sunset casting his grave face into an orange glow. Having passed through the wards with no real difficulty, he gave a small wave at the pair and marched a direct path towards them.
''Chess,'' he observed briefly, as he reached their table and took in the setting. He smiled approvingly at Harry. ''A marvellous game. Excellent for the mind. I do hope you've not cheated the boy, Severus.''
Snape snorted, knowing full well that he could have effortlessly beaten Harry many times had he not been so keen for their conversation to continue with the game's aid. ''One does not cheat at this game, Albus.''
Dumbledore's smile remained in place, as he beckoned to them with both hands. ''I am afraid we must leave almost immediately. I shall apparate the three of us to Headquarters, and Severus, you shall leave from there. We are already late.''
''Albus-'' Snape protested, as politely as he was able. To content with Sirius' taunting moments before he faced Voldemort would not set him in good stride.
''I wish for the Order to meet before you leave tonight. After all, you are part of us, and I would like the others to at least be aware of the proceedings... should something happen,'' Dumbledore explained, without leaving room for further argument.
Snape nodded his assent, straightening up. Harry followed suit, undecidedly nervous.
''Now, Severus I suspect there are a few things you'd like to take care of before we depart,'' Dumbledore added more brightly, as though they were all off on a holiday. He turned to Harry, noting how the boy's hands were wrung together tightly and he was standing more closely to Snape than he would usually have done. ''Harry, why don't you give him a hand? I shall take care of your trunk.''
Harry followed Snape's sweeping cloak back into the house, the darkness of the hallway harsh against his eyes after the brightness of outdoors.
His face itched and he realised, without much interest, that he must have caught the sun.
Without any nonsense, Snape issued the boy with instructions and they secured the Manor until it would next open to them. Cupboards were shut, valuables locked away and ancient portraits re-covered.
Snape turned his back on the boy as he fixed the wards on the front door with unsteady hands, mind a whir of words and phrases alluding to a vague goodbye. He would not be harsh with the boy, though neither would he allow Harry to force him into making sentimental promises he'd have no way of keeping.
He was well aware Dumbledore had granted them this time, away from the rush and distractions that would meet them at Headquarters, for them to part on calm tones.
Snape supposed, as much as it made him uncomfortable, that he did owe the boy some sort of farewell after all they'd been through. He snorted softly at the very thought. Him, Severus Snape, reluctant to give Harry up to his godfather for a mere week? It was a joke, yet a sad fact he'd yet to deal with.
Harry watched Snape struggle with a wary expression. He wanted to thank the man, or at least ask him for permission to return as soon as he was able, but he doubted Snape would let him.
When Snape's fingers slipped on the third lock, Harry automatically reached towards the trembling limp with a concerned expression. ''You're shaking.''
Snape snatched his hand away, twisting further away from the boy. He'd spent so long concerning himself with Harry's endless problems, that his own danger had been forced to the back of his mind. Now, there was no escaping it.
''Do not be absurd-''
''But you are,'' Harry persisted, reaching forwards once again with a stubborn frown. This would be his last chance to convince the man to stay. Never before had he seen Snape afraid of anything. ''Sir, you know this isn't right. You could get seriously hurt. It isn't worth going back just for-''
''It is,'' Snape interjected harshly. ''I am a spy, Potter. It is my role to remain as close to the Dark Lord as is possible. It is my only use to the Order. If I fail in this, then we shall approach this war blind.''
Harry sighed, rubbing at his forehead with his spare wrist. ''I understand that.''
''Then allow me to leave without causing such a scene,'' Snape suggested, latching on to the small measure of acceptance. ''Your teachings shall not suffer as a result of my potential demise, I can assure you. The headmaster is prepared for all potential outcomes.''
Harry tightened his lips and turned his face away with a scowl.
Before he could say anything uncomfortable, Snape gave a hard tug on Harry's sleeve to regain the boy's attention and extended his argument. ''Considering my position, it is unlikely that the Dark Lord would wish me dead, Potter. I am of far greater use to him alive.''
Though the idea gave Harry very little comfort, he forced himself to take confidence from an ideal outcome.
''Well good luck then,'' Harry said bravely, looking up at Snape apprehensively, knowing that the man did not take compliments well. But he couldn't let him go thinking there was no one aside from Dumbledore who wished him to remain safe. ''I appreciate what you're doing. And... it matters to me whether or not you return. I know it doesn't mean a lot, but it's the truth.''
Snape winced, willing the statement to affect him far less than it did. He would have to be honest, for he may not get the chance again and it was important the boy know.
''Quite the contrary, Mr. Potter,'' he spoke quietly, his eyes widening marginally to something akin to awe as he considered the sincerity behind Harry's confession. ''It means more than you know.''
Harry blinked as the close atmosphere immediately grew to something more awkward.
Pale faced, Snape took a step back and straightened his spine, staring down his nose at Harry with a small frown.
''Go and get yourself a jumper, boy or you shall freeze.''
Reluctantly, Harry turned towards the stairs. Before he had a time to get a grip on his emotions, he was standing once more in the centre of his bedroom, gazing down at the garden with a hopeless expression.
The chess board was still where they'd left it, Dumbledore occupying the space Snape had left, his face grave and thoughtful as he twirled a long finger through his beard. Night had almost fallen.
He didn't want to go so much it was almost an ache. Even the promise of Ron and Hermione's delighted faces was not enough for Harry to willingly give up his place here.
If only he could have a few more weeks, and then it would be over. He could leave without guilt and Snape's job would be done.
Harry watched as Dumbledore's face stilled for a moment, and then tilted to look directly at him. Stepping back quickly, Harry grabbed a jumper. It was only when he lifted the fabric into his arms that he noticed three vials lying on his bed beside a thick, leather bound book, a note seated neatly on top. It was Snape's handwriting.
Do not mention it.
Harry frowned, stowing the writing in his pocket as he tilted the book towards him to read the cover.
'Quidditch through the centuries,' stared up at him and he felt his heart leap in his chest. It was the book he'd found in Snape's library in what seemed like such a long time ago. The man had let it up, just like he promised.
Grinning like a fool, Harry slipped the book under his arm. The potions were immediately identifiable as dreamless sleep and found a place in his pockets. There was enough to get him through the next week, without relying solely on their power of emptying the mind.
Taking the stairs back down three at a time, Harry found Snape waiting for him in the shadows at the bottom, his expression once more unreadable.
His eyes flickered to the book as Harry jumped the last few steps, his lips twisted slightly, but he made no comment. What he would not allow himself to admit through words, he had expressed through a gift that even now half-called to him to be snatched back.
Harry fell into step beside Snape as they walked back through the house, passed countless rooms, many of which held unforgettable memories, both horrific and comforting.
Snape's pace was unhurried, his face closed, but when he held open the back door open for Harry before locking up, he cast the boy a small smile, all traces of hostility absent.
He knew he should probably keep talking, convincing the boy of his worth. He should tell him that, though you couldn't choose family, the friends you allowed yourself was far more important. That he had been one of the most engaging students he'd ever taught. And that it had been, if not a pleasure, then an experience he would allow himself to repeat without such a struggle.
But he bit the inside of his cheek. Harry would get there on his own. He was already half-way there.
Harry stared back. It was the most open expression Harry could ever hope to receive from Snape. This was a different man to the one he'd met a few weeks ago. No matter what happened tonight, Harry would not forget him.
Dumbledore rose heavily to his feet as they approached.
''Do not look so weary, my boys,'' he said, gazing sadly at the pair. ''This is not the end.''
Snape took Dumbledore's wrist wordlessly. The headmaster then held out an arm to Harry but Snape was already gripping the boy's shoulder in a firm grip.
''It is alright, Albus. I have got him.''
Dumbledore's face twitched into a true smile, before he exhaled, long and low. The two older men nodded at each other and apparated from the grounds of Snape Manor.