Harry didn't leave his bed all morning. Trippy came up with his lunch, and popped in after two hours and took it away untouched. He didn't know when the fatigue sent him to sleep, but he was woken up some time later from some vaguely frightening dream by a loud tapping sound. He turned toward the door, and saw Snape flicking his wand, and creating the sound with each flick. He had set down a tray at the edge of the bed.
"Eat."
He shook his head.
"Potter, I don't care how disappointed you are—"
"Did Dumbledore tell you what happened?"
His face was a perfect mask and Harry felt like throwing the cup of cocoa at his face just to see if that could crack it. "He did."
"Did he also tell you that he was quite wrong about not including the other Death Eaters?" He was so furious he could barely get the words out in a semi-normal way.
Snape blinked once slowly. "Dumbledore has many factors to take into consideration while doing something with as far-reaching consequences as—"
"Oh, of course, you're right. The worst thing that would happen is that some Death Eaters would be arrested." He shuddered dramatically. "That's a terrible thing to happen, I can see why Dumbledore might not like that!"
"Do not interrupt me, Potter." His lips were twisted in anger. "Dumbledore is perfectly sure of Malfoy's guilt. However, this is not just about your capture, but the fate of the whole wizarding world, which has consequences for the Muggle world as well. You are quite unaware of the complexity of the matter."
There was a pause. "Are you finished?" Harry asked coolly. He nodded tightly. "Let me just say, I don't care about any of that—"
"Because you are a self-centered child—"
"That is SO UNFAIR—"
"Do not interrupt me!"
"You interrupted me first!" he yelled, standing up in bed to better make up the difference in their heights, and now he was sort of staring down at Snape, instead of craning his neck up at him, and the seeming advantage this gave him spurred him on. "The wizarding world can go jump off a cliff for all I care, and why should I care about everyone when they came to my house and killed someone and kidnapped me and nobody cared about that! And 'Dumbledore has to care about greater matters', well, Dumbledore was supposed to be fighting at the trial for me and not the whole world and how dare you say I'm self-centered, I'm self-centered, am I, for wanting justice for someone?"
"Get off the bed," he said. His lips were pursed and trembling, and Harry suddenly realized with a wave of panic that he was furious. He was just about to scramble down, when 'Excuse me' said a voice from the door, and they both looked at its source.
Dumbledore had removed the robes he'd worn at the Wizengamot and looked at ease in a lime green robe with purple slashing designs all over it. "I called but no-one answered, so I took the liberty of Flooing through. I apologize," he said to Snape. He acknowledged it with a brief tilt of his head. Then Dumbledore turned to Harry, who blushed at the sight that greeted the Headmaster's eyes—of him standing in bed with the same clothes that he'd worn at the trial, the cup of cocoa spilling and dripping over the bed sheets.
Well, he didn't care what he thought, Harry decided viciously.
"If Harry would please get down from—" he stopped as Harry stepped down to the floor in one smooth move. His hair was rumpled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but he stood with his head high and looked straight at Dumbledore. "We can discuss this matter in the hall," he completed.
Snape flicked a wand at the tray. Harry turned to see that the spilt cocoa had been Vanished. The sight of the food made him suddenly very very hungry, but he squared his shoulders and made to follow Dumbledore out.
"Just a minute, Albus," Snape said. "Potter hasn't eaten since breakfast."
"I'm fine."
"Please bring your tray down, Harry. You may eat as we talk."
He hefted it and followed the Headmaster, Snape behind him, walking so quietly Harry could almost pretend he wasn't there. Dumbledore flicked a wand at the table, which had plates and food identical to the things on his tray, and he felt a sudden stab of guilt at keeping Snape away from his dinner—
'Self-centered child,' his voice repeated in his head.
Still, he said, "Mister Snape can eat too as we talk, right?"
Dumbledore smiled at him, but Snape rolled his eyes as he placed himself behind Dumbledore's chair. "I believe we've already established the nature of our relationship."
"Two humans who need to eat?" he looked up at him, not ready to smile yet, especially not at the face that was currently looking at him with an unfathomable expression.
Dumbledore was smiling. "I believe our discussion was regarding the trial?" Harry shifted his attention to him. He'd crossed his fingers together on the table. The smile slipped away, replaced by an expression of sorrow. "Allow me first to express my regret at how the events of today transpired."
Not interested. Snape's eyes were on him. He kept his gaze on the Headmaster/politician. "Mister Snape said you had 'reasons that my little brain could not understand'. Is that true?"
"I hope he didn't phrase it like that, but this is a difficult matter."
"Five Death Eaters killed Mrs Figg and captured me. Lucius Malfoy did not come to Surrey alone to do that, he had company. We knew that, and he knew we knew that. How is this difficult?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
He looked at him. "Okay. So really, when you say regret, you mean, you're going to play with your thumbs and do nothing and plan your war and I should pat you on the back for it?"
"You will speak to the Headmaster with respect, Potter," Snape said coldly.
"I'll respect someone who doesn't tell me he's sorry for something that he could fix and doesn't."
Dumbledore sat up a little straighter, and the look in his eyes sent the tiniest tendril of fear into Harry's stomach. This, then, was his true self, and the man that Voldemort himself was afraid of. "I do not expect forgiveness from you, Harry. But, no matter how easy you might find it to scoff, there is a war still on, a war that took a great many lives, including your parents'—"
"Speaking of my parents, I suppose you didn't know my godfather betrayed them." He said this as flat as could be and ignored the wrenching of his heart.
Dumbledore's eyes flitted up to where Snape was standing beside him, but he didn't comment on it. "I do not make decisions regarding peoples' lives lightly, Harry, no matter what you think of me. I knew your parents well, did you know that? James Potter and Lily Potter were gifted and passionate, and instrumental in the fight against Voldemort."
"Until they went into hiding—they did go into hiding, didn't they? The news articles said that the Potters weren't seen in public for about a year before their deaths. And I still don't understand how that has anything to do with the other Death Eaters not in the lawsuit."
The Headmaster's shoulders rose in a deep breath. "I can't tell you that, I'm afraid. I do apologize. Keeping things from people has long been one of my greatest strengths, but I am aware of the great pain that I cause to the people I keep things from."
"And you do not care," he breathed.
Dumbledore's eyes showed he'd scored a hit. "I do care," he said, very quietly. "I remember all those whom I kept things from."
In the silence that followed, Dumbledore's eyes glanced once over to Snape, and this time Harry followed his gaze to meet Snape's black eyes. He was wearing a black robe and black pants, covering every inch of his body but his neck, palms and face. He was dressed almost like a Death Eater, with that colour, he thought absently, eyes running over Snape as the man looked back at him and then—
It suddenly hit him.
"You were there," he whispered. "Weren't you."
The conclusion made so much sense in his head that he didn't even phrase it like a question. How many Death Eaters got away, he'd asked, and gotten the answer, 'more than a dozen', which really didn't seem like a lot, but five of them had made their way into his house, and how likely was it that Snape was one of them?
Dumbledore's eyes had shot back to him and he knew by the look on his face that he was properly startled by this statement. Snape had gone pale too, though he stood perfectly still and silent.
Like a good little spy.
"That's why you didn't want me to say that, because Snape is your spy and you don't want him to get caught and go to prison," like my godfather, who is rotting in there, because apparently these Dementor creatures make you go crazy.
Dumbledore was quiet. Harry found the silent gaze to be just a little too much. He licked his lips, feeling cold all over, and looked away, down, at his hands on the table.
"Well, you could have just told me that." His voice came out very casual, almost normal, if not for the complete lack of any inflection at all. He took his tray and stood up. "I think I'll eat this in my room after all," though it wasn't really his room, but after Snape had captured him and laughed at him along with Lucius Malfoy, who had gotten away with it, he really couldn't begrudge Harry this.
He carried the tray back in, arranged himself on the bed, firmly focused on a strong memory, going to the beach as a class trip without Dudley, and ate.
As soon as he was sure Potter was out of earshot, Snape uttered a word he'd wanted to say for a long time, since the tenth of May, in fact, which is when Lucius had first come to him with the idea of kidnapping Potter.
"I'd ask that you move him to the Dursleys after explaining the situation, but I don't think it's still safe enough to do that."
Dumbledore was looking at the chair that Potter had recently vacated, a thoughtful look on his face. "He did reach that conclusion rather remarkably quickly, didn't he?"
Snape had no desire to admire the boy's ability to put things together. "You should speak to him."
He looked up at this at last. "I should, Severus?"
He didn't roll his eyes, but he did close them briefly. "I cannot, Albus. He won't even want to look at me."
"I'd prefer not to decide that till it has been proven."
"There is no way—"
"Severus, as usual, you underestimate the capacity of people to forgive. Or did you not hear the last words he spoke before he left?"
"Yes, I heard the words of a vain Gryffindor who was trying to save face and not burst into tears in front of—"
"You disappoint me." Three words, sufficient to make him shrink and feel like a student again. "I expect you to speak to him, Severus."
"And say what?" he asked, feeling a bit desperate.
He smiled, with a hint of his twinkle. "I trust you to tell him what he needs to know and yet keep all the appropriate information secret. I didn't make you my spy on a whim." His face sobered. "Although I was surprised to hear that he knew about his godfather."
It wasn't an accusation, but it demanded explanation. "He read it in the newspaper."
"And what did you say?"
"I told him that the sole entity to blame for his parents' death was the Dark Lord. He was satisfied."
Albus gave him a look, but didn't say anything more. After the whoosh that indicated the Headmaster's departure, it took several calming breaths for him to feel sufficiently calm enough to speak to the boy. He'd briefly considered delaying it till the next day, so he could sleep and think and hopefully be a bit calmer, but he didn't allow himself that luxury. He went up to Potter's door, which had been slammed shut, and knocked.
He could hear a very soft groan from inside the room, followed by, "I really don't want to talk right now."
Well that made two of us. "May I come in?"
Pause. "It's your house," came the reply.
He was a bit surprised to see the boy sitting perfectly calmly, if very still. The empty tray sat on the drawer. He walked in and took a seat, a little further from how he usually sat.
Snape wondered whether the boy would talk first. He didn't want to break the silence. Potter was staring straight ahead, almost as if trying to blot out the image of Snape sitting next to him.
"You must have questions," Snape said, giving in at last.
Potter's lips pressed together.
"I did not go with Lucius willingly, Potter. He asked me to go with him. I could not refuse, that would make him mistrust me and I couldn't afford that." They'd gone over this in Dumbledore's office, the risks of agreeing versus the possibility of his cover being broken.
Harry's stare was broken by a blink.
"Potter. Speak to me." Then he tried again, gentler, "Harry."
Blink. "Please tell me he isn't a friend of yours." Nearly a month since his rescue, and the tone of the he hadn't changed.
"The Slytherin concept is very different from the usual." Should he continue to call him Harry? Anything that would get the boy to speak, he decided. "We have alliances."
"And the difference is—?"
"We don't really care about each other, we just want something from them." The inner workings of Slytherin House aren't secret, he reminded himself. Still, talking about it felt oddly personal.
"What do you want from him?"
"He's a Death Eater. I have to keep up appearances."
"So," his smile was a little twisted, "that day, that's what you were doing?"
"Yes," he said simply.
He nodded, but even that looked a bit mocking. "I—I don't know what to say."
Snape looked at the faint, pained smile wavering on Potter's lips. "I apologize, Harry," he said slowly, "for what I had to do."
"And for keeping it from me."
"Yes."
"And for being the reason why he was called 'innocent' and got away again."
He didn't think he was the only reason behind that, he'd been quite sure Malfoy would get away with it. It was he, after all, who'd manufactured the plan to get Potter out of the Malfoy Manor and be found by the Aurors. Lucius had wanted to kill him and dispose of the body. His continued freedom was a small price to pay for Potter's survival. "Yes," he said.
"Mrs Figg died trying to help me."
He had seen many people killed. He thought he would have been numb to the effect it created, seeing people stop breathing, or close their eyes, or hear their scream slowly dying away (or being cut off in an instant). And yet each one made his heart feel like it was being pulled apart. Never had he listened to a witness of a victim's murder.
He tried to tell himself he had saved Potter's life, and that made up for his losses.
"I know."
"I read everything he was supposed to have done, in the news. He hurt a lot of people. Killed a lot of people." As if against his will, Potter's eyes turned to Snape. "And he hurt me."
The look on his face looked completely out of place, nothing he could have imagined on Lily or Potter. His eyes were shining with tears, but his face was set.
"I'd told you I wanted to know things even if they were painful." Snape nodded. He hadn't for a minute considered complying with that. "I think I know which one you were."
Snape's eyes widened at that. No. He couldn't possibly.
"You were the one who stood closest to Lucius. There was him, and the guy who said something about Mrs. Figg being a Squib, and the one who—killed her—and you were the one who didn't say anything at all." Snape broke his gaze for just a second. "You didn't cast the Killing Curse, did you."
No. The Avada had been Macnair and Goyle's delight. There had been Macnair and Avery, and Goyle for brute force. Lucius had talked to each of them personally before bringing them together, but he'd known what Lucius had told them to convince them to attempt such a scheme.
'Powers beyond wizarding knowledge', Lucius had told him. 'Severus, could he possibly be...?'
He hadn't finished that sentence. He didn't need to. Lucius thought he was the next Dark Lord.
"Did you ever come to the cellar?"
He shook his head. Conscience compelled him to say, "I was to make the potions." And then, "It was my...area of expertise during the Dark Lord's reign. Lucius knew that. He insisted that I come. We decided that going along with him would be less..."
"Suspicious." His voice was absolutely flat, and Snape looked up. His face didn't show any emotion either. "I really, really want so badly to hate you right now."
He forced himself to keep looking into his eyes, Lily's eyes, why did he go and have Lily's eyes, life would have been so much easier for him if Potter looked exactly like his father—
But this Potter didn't even have glasses, and Lily was staring at him through a film of tears.
"I thought I was—I thought for sure I would die there. I really want to hate you. But you look absolutely horrible, you know that?" He stopped suddenly, and his lips pursed together like he was holding back a sob. "Lucius Malfoy looked so proud of himself, so delighted at getting away, again, I wanted to kill him right there." Snape flinched. "But I didn't want to kill someone when I was ten. How old were you when you first killed someone?"
Snape was this close to telling him he was veering into the realm of personal questions again. "I'd just become an adult by wizarding standards. That's 17 years."
"Do you remember it?"
Oh yes. It was a woman, not much older than him, a Muggle, whom Crabbe and Rosier had captured and brought to the Dark Lord. As part of his initiation into the circle, he was to kill her. He'd thought of burying her afterwards, but the Dark Lord had said such beauty wasn't to be wasted and used her as an Inferius instead. Snape had to cast that curse, too. Thanking the Dark Lord for such a great opportunity, m'Lord, absolute honour to serve, yes, yes
"I don't think he does. He doesn't care. You're nothing like him. So I can't hate you, no matter how much I'd like to." He exhaled, and now he looked tiny. And exhausted. His eyes slipped away, and Snape took a long overdue breath. "Can I sleep now?"
Snape nodded. He stood up. He opened his mouth, and Potter's eyes were on him for forever before he managed to get the words, "I'm sorry" out, and then he fled.