Anoni: thanks for pointing out the mistake about Arthur Weasley´s age. You're completely right, there is no way he could be a year younger than Lily and James. Well, what can I say, maths just never was my subject ^^ Anyway I am grateful that there are readers like you who have obviously more talent at it!!!

And thanks to all my other reviewers!!!!!

Chapter 7: Darkness, blood-roses and serpent's laughter

Harry sighed deeply as he fell down on a chair in the almost empty library. Not that he minded the familiar atmosphere of the Gryffindors´ Common Room, but there were moments when he grew tired of the ever-so-cheerful people around him whose worst fear was to loose the Housecup, hours when he needed a bit of privacy - and this was definitely one of these times! If he had had to listen to the stupid rumours of Snape having a points-awarding twin brother or to Ron and Hermione´s well-meant but rather tiring attempts to cheer him up because he was the only Gryffindor who would stay over Christmas this year, he surely would have gone mad.

Cuddling up in his comfortable armchair, he stared blankly in the air. Entirely too much was going on at the moment.

For once there was the memory of the fateful evening he had spent at McGregor's and the embarrassing fact that he had nearly broke down in front of Snape. Snape!

He had been prepared for humiliation to no end in the following Potion lesson, convinced that his git of a Potion Master would not think twice about using a moment of weakness of his most loathed student against him, and...nothing had happened at all. Not that Snape had been any friendlier than in the past five years but somehow Harry had gotten the infallible impression that something about his attitude had changed nevertheless; in the last two weeks he had caught his professor staring at him countless times, not glaring but thoughtfully as though he saw him for the first time or had found something in him nobody else was supposed to know about.

*I don't hate you, foolish boy.*

Not exactly the nicest thing to say, but for a moment Harry had almost thought that Snape cared.

He shook his head angrily. Don't be a fool, he told himself fiercely. For some incomprehensible reason he was your mother's friend, but this doesn't mean that he's not the same man you knew when you first saw him in the Great Hall.

Something inside him, though, was not quite convinced.

Well, but then Snape and his once-in-a-lifetime act of kindness was not his only problem. There were the dreams which haunted him by now every second night, growing ever more intense. The boy shuddered when he thought about the latest one.

He had been on the graveyard again, seeing the other boy standing in front of the same gravestone on which he laid down his blood-red roses every night. He had watched him approaching with a little yet sad smile on his heart-wrenchingly handsome face, the dark green eyes shining softly, the black hair curled in his neck. I've been waiting for you, Harry, he had spoken with great simplicity, his voice lyrical as if he were reciting some beautiful verse of an old poem.

A sudden scream had pierced the air just then, full of despair and heart-crushing grief, but Harry hadn't mind and neither had the other one. Death and pain were things they both knew very well for living close to them all the time, things that did not impress them much. What the hell do you want, Tom?

The dark green eyes had locked themselves with Harry's, obviously unaware of their beauty, or at least not consciously using it to dazzle, distract or quiet him. Obviously not seeing himself in Harry´s eyes, but only him. I want *you*, Harry, he had whispered, his voice fleeting with tenderness. I want us to become two at this crossroad. Who could love us, you and me, as we can love each other?

Harry had have to resist the urge to back away. Obviously you have gone completely mad by now, he had shot back, unable to keep his voice under the strict constraints of coolness. There is nothing we have in common.

Do you really think so? the other one had retorted, a cold little smile on his sensual pale lips. Poor darling, all your life you have tried to escape the inevitable. You've tried to be good and light and brave so hard and yet you always knew that a part of you would forever long for darkness and night and sin.

Harry had closed his eyes at this, feeling a fear rising in him, as endless and dismal as any fear he had known before, any moment of disconsolate gloom when he had hugged his knees in his cupboard, afraid to even open his eyes, afraid of the darkness all around him and the endless vistas of a horror, he could not even fully remember, laying in it. That is not true, he had heard himself whisper. I hate the dark. Somebody help me, this is not true.

This had caused Tom a bitter laugh. But there is no one, Harry, he had said with sudden heartfelt sincerity. That's the secret of the universe, that is my cry and my message. There is no one to help us. We are born alone and we die alone.

Bugger off, Tom.

You want me because we're the same, the pale boy had insisted, a bit of his charm finally leaving his face. You need the darkness you see in me. You're addicted to it.

THAT IS NOT TRUE!

Harry shook his head roughly and his universe slipped back into the perfect focus of reality. Embracing his knees, he stared into the air and sighed resigned. In spite of what he said, he could not help but feeling a part of himself agree with the boy's words. He did not desire power over people, and there was no way he would ever hurt somebody he loved, but different from all other people around him, he felt that the dark was an essential part of him, that it was much less scarier than the light which forced you to look at things you'd better ignored...

He moaned quietly at the course of his thoughts. Sometimes he really, really wished that he would not be able to remember his dreams. He never got any good ones to compensate for all the others.

His forehead frowned as he eventually tried to find some solution for his problem with the grim determination and never-ending resources of hope Gryffindor had taught him in the past five years. He had already asked Hermione about Dreamless Potions, but her answer had not been very encouraging. According to her, these potions were only to be made by the most advanced Potion Master since they did not just affect the human physics, but their very psyche. The only one in Hogwarts able to make them, the girl had concluded thoughtfully, was probably Snape.

Harry snorted sarcastically. So he had just to go to the Potion Master and tell him `Sorry, sir, but do you happen to have a Dreamless Potion for me? See, I have these nightmares where Lord Voldemort´s younger self proclaims his eternal love for me and that really freakens me out.´

No, not an option.

If only the school were not so full of reminders of Tom Riddle, he thought miserably. But everywhere he went, he found some sign of his presence; the medals in the trophy room, Mauling Myrtle's toilet, the snake on the Slytherin emblem...

His eyes suddenly widened. The snake, of course!

In all the confusion and chaos of the evening at Professor McGregor, he had almost forgotten about the mysterious animal speaking to him before Snape had turned up. *A human who talksss like one of usss. It hasss been a long time sssince the last of your kind passssed here.*

The last of his kind...

His eyes narrowed.

Could it be...?

Aprubtly he stood up. It was not much of a chance, but since he did not have any other idea at the moment, it was definetely worth a try.

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It seemed that the snape had already been waiting for him for she smiled in smooth satisfaction as he appeared in the dungeons, carefully looking around if anyone would be able to see him speaking to a wall.

„I wasss looking forwards to meet you again, little sssnake", she greeted him in a soft hiss, her black eyes narrowing as they measured him from top to the feet. „It´sss boring down here with noone to talk to. Those of your kind were alwaysss rare and after my Sssalazar left me, I ssspent centuries alone, not understood by anyone."

Harry tried to force a sympathetic smile on his face, still taken aback at the way the image could slip to live at her own will. „You must have been quite lonely, hm?"

As the serpent sighed in resigned confirmation, Harry took a step nearer to her. After all there was no way she could spring from the wall to bite him. At least he hoped so. „How comes it that you can speak anyway?" he asked curiously. „None of the other emblems can, can´t they?"

This made the serpent laugh a rich deep laughter whose soft tickling sound send a shiver of pleasure down Harry´s spine. „Thanksss to my Ssssalazar", she explained, uncoiling herself lazily. „He gave me life ssso that I could talk to him. He sssaid that he needed sssome intelligent conversssation in order to compensssate the talking with the other foundersss. They alwaysss infuriated him beyond reason, essspecially that idiotic Gryffindor man."

Harry could not surpress a little grin. „Yeah, I´ve heard that they did not get along to well."

A low hiss was his only answer, indicating clearly that this was probably the understatement of the century. The intelligent black eyes stared thoughtfully at him. „You are in Gryffindor, aren´t you, little sssnake?" she asked eventually.

„That´s right", the boy answered, trying to sound casually, although his heart began to pound faster. „What about that?"

The black eyes never stopped looking at him in the same pensive way that was in itself frighteningly intense as though they were trying to tell him something without saying the words aloud, as though they expected him to listen to sounds that couldn't be heard. "You would be better off here in Ssslytherin", the serpent finally replied with disarming sincerity. „You would have understood your own world, yourssself, and the darkness so much better."

The storm within Harry began rising to the surface. He would not listen to this *again*! „You are wrong!" he shot back, trying to suppress the memory of his dream. „I am a Gryffindor. I have nothing in common with Slytherin!" He shook his head vehemently, wanting his outrage to take over his feeble-mindedness, to cleanse him of the part of him that wanted to agree with the snake.

Yet she only looked at him with the same pensive expression like before, as if she knew something that he did not. As though their fates were sealed and this was but a part to play. "You were not meant for Gryffindor", she insisted calmly, her voice never straying from soft persuasion. „You are just like my Tom."

Harry´s head snapped up which caused the snake to smile wistfully.

„Ah, I sssee, you know him." Letting her silvery coils slithering over each other and gradually untangling themselves, the serpent's deep black eyes seemed to soften dreamily. „My sssweet Tom", she said tenderly. „He would alwaysss come to visit me after he found out my sssecret. He would tell me everthing, his hopes, his dreamsss, his ambition. He would alwaysss confide in me, my darling boy, always trust me with his sssecrets for he knew that I would keep them forever for him."

Harry found it difficult to breathe suddenly. The darkness he knew so very well from his dreams suddenly was before him once again, slowly creeping in at the sides of his view, making the world around lose focus.

*You are addicted to the dark.*

„And you remind me ssstrongly of him", he heard the serpent's whisper like from a great distance. „You both were wounded by foolsss who did not sssee your strength, your vision, your glory. They tried to shut you down, to kill the magic in you, to make you common like they were. But like him you will find your way in the dark like we sssnakes always do in the end."

„I am not like Voldemort!" When the boy finally found his voice back, it was dry. Stepping back, he nearly collided with the wand behind him, barely noticing it, though. „I am not like him, do you hear me! I am nothing like him!"

And then the darkness swept over him.

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Snape swept through the empty corridors down to his dungeon, his long black robe billowing behind him and his facial expression even darker than usual, determined to take points from whomever would cross his way back to the peace of his dungeons; even if it was a Slytherin!

He hated these foolish staff meetings. He really did not understand why he still attended them anyway for they never made any sense whatsoever. Sybill, thrice-damned old bat that she was, would foretell him once more a most painful death, a prediction he had grown tired of already in his very first Divination lesson, Minerva would try to shut her up only to hold him a moral speech about favouring his own students in exchange (a thing he never did; it was not his fault that all the other Houses lacked brain as much as talent), meanwhile the others would quarrel over the Weasley twins´ newest crimes, while Albus would try to feed them with his ridiculous Muggle sweets. The only thing that ever stopped Severus from exploding at these occasion was counting the days until the next holidays, the days until the ignorant children were to leave this school, so that he wouldn't have to think about stealing points from these brain-scattered excuses of students or need to clean up broken beakers and burnt cauldrons.

Oh yes, he hated staff meetings. But ever since Morrigan attended them too, they had taken a frightening turn towards death throes for him.

Morrigan.

It had been a shock to him when Albus had announced the name of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher on the last meeting before the summer holidays. Morrigan of all people. Snape hadn't seen her since they had broken with each other after a tearful fight only days before Voldemort´s fateful attack on Godric´s Hollow, and the thought of meeting her again had been pure panic. As much as she meant to him, for Snape the thought of Morrigan McGregor would always be inextricably linked with pain and suffering and he strongly suspected that she felt the same about him. They just knew the other one too well to be completely comfortable with each other.

In spite of this she had smiled at him when they had finally met each other at the bus station of Hogsmeade; had smiled the sweet, enchanting, promising smile he so well remembered, and naturally enough it had awoken the familiar constriction, the old mixture of affection and bitterness she always arose in him with a crush so painful that it could have screamed his lungs out. He had already been dreading what there was to come in this very first moment of their reunion. After all he knew best what her innocent facade hid so skilfully.

Severus smiled wistfully as he recalled how Morrigan had let herself go two weeks ago in front of Lily's son. So many masks that had been falling down from her deceitfully sweet face, so many camouflages. But then it was the way that world perceived her. The people around wanted to see the enchanting girl brimming with life and joy they remembered, not the hardened woman she had become and, being the good Slytherin that she was, Morrigan smiled and laughed like she always did, hiding her dark heart behind grace and heart-wrenching innocence.

Not that he was much better, he acknowledged sarcastically. Knowing that his presence at Hogwarts was seen as unsettling and foreboding by a large amount of people who knew about his past, he gave them what they expected, a dark and bitter man, killer, liar and minion of evil in a world that had already seen far too much. But then this mask was more truthful than the Morrigan was wearing.

Forcing the thoughts away, he speeded up, longing to get into the familiar loneliness of his dungeons, when a sudden hissing made him stop dead in his tracks.

It almost sounded like...

With the silent skill of a former spy, Snape stealthily moved as near as he could to the source of the sound without alerting it to his presence. He crouched behind a statue of a famous witch (Morgana if he was not mistaken) and slowed his breathing as he finally glanced around the corner.

He almost snorted out loudly.

Potter. The bane of his existence. He should have known.

He already wanted to leave his hiding-place and take about twenty points from the boy for the mere benefit of cheering himself up, when something in the corner of his eye suddenly moved. His eyes widened in astonishment. The snake on the emblem was uncoiling herself. Twinkling. Talking to Potter in Snake Language.

His lips thinned. Another one of Salazar's infamous little surprises? It certainly would not astonish him for, in contrast to the other Houses, Slytherin was still full of unsolved riddles and unknown mystery whose origin went back to its founder. And it would be just the sort of thing that would happen to Potter to find one of those!

But the sarcastic witticism that laid already on the top of his tongue died when he saw the expression on the boy's face.

Paler than Snape had ever seen him before, Potter stepped back, nearly colliding against the wall behind him. Although he could not understand the indecipherable words and syllables flowing from the boy's mouth, there was no mistaking the look on his face, the dreadful mixture of despair and horror. He had seen this expression before, on persons that were soon to be confronted with Voldemort, on Muggle-borns who had fallen into the Deatheater´s hands, on Lily's face when he had told her that he did not love her.

Without thinking he rushed towards the boy and gripped his shoulder. „Potter!"

No reaction but the trembles running through the fragile body in his hands.

„Potter?" Severus asked again, this time a bit louder. „Potter?!"

The wide green eyes were open but they seemed to look straight through him, focussing on some unnameable horror of whose origin they alone knew.

"Harry?" He hated himself for the worry in his voice. It was simply beyond reason what the insufferable boy could cause in him. But then the brat was still trembling badly, now suddenly clinging to his robes as if desperate for contact and Snape simply could not leave him alone like that, so fragile, so vulnerable, so much like Lily. Cursing inwardly, Snape wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders and placed the other on the back of his head as he pulled him close to his side to keep him from collapsing. „Harry?" he asked a second time, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible for him.

A bit of life returns to the glazed green eyes and finally the boy blinked very slowly as though the action were painful. „Professor?"

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