Chapter Three
… Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul,
As he went about his daily routine a little later on that morning, Harry tried to recall what exactly he had been dreaming about. Clearly, it had to have been something unpleasant if, as Ron had claimed, he'd been whimpering before he had been woken. The lingering sense of melancholy that still nagged at him corroborated that suspicion, but wasn't of much help to him in attempting to figure it out.
He had little success in his attempts to remember his dream, but at least his preoccupation with it prevented him from probing at the closed door at the back of his mind. He had done that every day for the last two months, and it had become almost a habit. It was like a sore tooth – despite knowing that it would hurt to prod it, to see if it felt any different and find that it did not, he could not resist the temptation, and caught himself doing it without his conscious volition when his mind wandered. Even while he'd spent the Easter holidays with Sirius he had thought almost constantly about – him, and now he was back at school for his last term as a sixth-year. Today was the first day of classes, and soon he would be seeing him again.
He would see him at meals, and in class, and simply pass him in the corridors. Perhaps he would even have detention with him, or be caught breaking the rules in the middle of the night by him. Whatever the cause of their interaction, he would have to act as if nothing had changed, or as if everything had, and the mere thought threatened to give him a splitting headache.
When he entered the common room, he spotted Ron and Hermione sitting next to each other on one of the sofas, their heads bent close together. They were talking quietly, clearly intent on the topic, whatever it was. They didn't notice his quiet arrival, but when he walked over to greet them, they moved apart slightly with a air of faint guilt.
"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. From the look on Ron's face, always the easier to read, they'd probably been talking about him. If there was one thing he didn't need right now, it was more questions from them. It was too tempting to tell them everything, and let them take some of the worry, but he knew it would be just the wrong thing to do.
Rather than answering his question, Hermione replied, "Wait a little while until everyone goes to breakfast."
That reply really didn't bode well for him. Harry nodded and sat down on her other side nevertheless. Sinking into the soft cushions, he resumed yesterday's conversation about the trip she'd taken to Egypt over the holidays. He found himself unexpectedly caught up in her account of the trip. He had to admit, the experiences she'd had sounded absolutely fascinating.
Perhaps his bad dream had something to do with her talk of mummies and such, he mused. It was certainly spooky, although some of the things he'd faced could give the stories a run for their money, and the nightmares he'd suffered after that hadn't left him feeling quite the way he did this morning. Perhaps more daunting was that it was all too easy to think of ways that Voldemort might be able to use the ancient curses she mentioned, but no, he didn't think it was anything to do with that either. Frowning and trying again to recall the dream, he didn't notice the worried look she cast at him.
When the common room was finally empty apart from the three of them, Hermione turned to him. "What's going on, Harry?" she asked without further beating about the bush.
"What d'you mean?" he asked as artlessly as he could manage, one hand rubbing absently at the soft, faded upholstery of the sofa. He tried to keep his guilt off his face, but felt that he probably hadn't succeeded. He had never been much good at acting. His suspicion was confirmed by her response.
"You've been acting odd for a while now," she replied almost before he'd finished speaking. She'd prepared this speech, it seemed. "Before we broke up for Easter you were awfully quiet and you seemed kind of sad. You didn't write much over the holidays. Ron says he's woken up a few times in the night and there've been silencing charms around your bed. Now you're having dreams that make you whimper." Well, that was certainly a rather comprehensive summary of his behaviour over the last few months, and it did sound kind of bad, when she put it in that way.
"It can't be Voldemort," she continued, "because you always seem to remember those dreams, and you at least tell us that they were about him." Harry thought he detected a hint of accusation in her voice, and felt even guiltier for making her – them? - feel left out. But then, it wasn't any more than they'd done to him, even if it was unintentional all round. "Anyway, we're worried about you, and we want to help, if you'll let us."
Ron broke in, clearly eager to add his support to Hermione's statement. "Something's bothering you, Harry, and well… if you want to talk about it…" He trailed off, leaving an opening that Harry had to fill. The prospect of silence felt suddenly uncomfortable, to be avoided at all costs.
"It's… it's nothing, really," he replied. "I honestly don't remember last night's dream at all, and I really think it was just an ordinary nightmare. Too much stress or something, you know?
"The silencing charms, well…" He didn't have to force a blush as he tried to think of reasonable explanations for his actions. Sometimes, although far too rarely for his liking if he was completely truthful with himself, his dreams had given him a more pleasant reason for casting the silencing charms. He realised that as he talked he was once more touching the bracelet on his left wrist, and forced his hand away. Obscurus charm or not, it would not do to draw attention to it. Perhaps he ought to stop wearing it, it would probably be the best thing to do, but there was something about the idea that felt subtly wrong.
Hermione blushed faintly too at his reply. "Oh…" she said, eventually following with, "And the other things?"
"I just… just had a few problems with something, it was nothing important and it's better now, really. I'm fine. I promise," he insisted, as sincerely as he could.
"Well, if you say so," she said reluctantly, and Harry saw Ron nodding in agreement behind her. "But remember we're here if you need to talk about anything, okay? I know we might have seemed a little preoccupied with each other," her flush deepened as she glanced briefly at Ron, and a hint of a smile at the reminder of just why they were preoccupied crossed her face, "but you're still our friend."
"Thanks." They smiled as if nothing had changed since the first time they became friends, and for that moment it felt true. "I'm really hungry," he added, eager to escape from the topic now that he had hopefully eased their suspicions and concerns. "How about some breakfast?"
They made their way to the Great Hall, discussing their plans for the rest of the term and for the summer holiday. As they entered, Harry refused to look up at the High Table. It didn't, or at least shouldn't, matter to him if Severus – Snape, he reminded himself, not Severus ever again – was there or not.
***
Severus muttered the password – "Canary Cream" – under his breath and waited impatiently for the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office to move aside.
As he waited, he tried to think of a possible reason for today's summons. They had held the beginning-of-term staff meeting only yesterday, and Albus had indicated no concerns about his teaching plan, or his other duties, then. There was not even anything new he needed to report to the Order, and as far as he knew there was nothing planned on that front that he needed to be involved in for at least some weeks. No, there was no obvious reason for this meeting, which could only mean that the Headmaster wished to stick his nose into his private business yet again.
The gargoyle finally opened the staircase for him after what he felt was a rather unnecessarily lengthy time of deliberation. It had never liked him much, even when he had been a student, he recalled. He patted it absently on the fierce beak as he walked into the narrow opening. As he trudged up the winding staircase, he repressed a sigh, steeling himself in preparation for the interrogation he knew would follow.
"Ah, Severus," Albus twinkled at him as he entered, and he knew, with a flash of insight born of long acquaintance, that it was going to be bad. "Take a seat," the older wizard ordered. "Tea?"
At least Albus knew better than to offer him sweets by now. It had only taken him twenty years to learn that, so perhaps there was still hope that he would one day allow Severus to live his own life. He repressed a snort as he refused the invitation to relax implicit in the welcoming embrace of the armchair in front of the desk. It wasn't like him to be so optimistic. "Thank you," he said instead, knowing from experience that the teacup would give him something to do while attempting to avoid the searching, unwarranted questions.
"How was your holiday?" asked the Headmaster, handing him a cup and saucer overgrown with some of the most dangerous vegetation he'd been privileged to see in years.
Well, it was an innocuous enough question, but the answer, in this situation, required some thought. He turned the cup in his hands, feeling smooth porcelain and warmth as he pondered. "Educational," he answered finally, after casting his mind back over those weeks.
He had left Hogwarts over Easter for the first time in years. The last time had been in his second year of teaching, he remembered. Perhaps it had been foolish of him, but he had had the vague thought that perhaps some distance would help him gain a little perspective, a little clarity of thought. Would, if he was lucky, allow him to keep from fixating on the feeling of the boy's mouth under his as he had far too often since that day. He shivered at the sudden flash of sense-memory, and was glad that his voluminous robes would probably hide the brief tremor, even from Albus.
Educational indeed. He had learnt that his control over his thoughts was dangerously worn. He had been barely able to concentrate on the sights, magical and otherwise, of China.
"It seems to have been good for you, my boy. You look slightly better than you did at the end of last term. Less anxious." There was kindness in Albus' tone, but also a dangerous curiosity that Severus knew, again from experience, did not bode well for his victim.
Oh dear. At least he knew the purpose of this little meeting now. Well there was only one thing to do, since he was certainly not about to confess all; he would bluff as long as he could, and hope for the best. Albus would not be fooled, but if he resisted hard enough, he should give up. There were far more important things demanding his energy than a little added melancholy on the part of his always sombre Potions master.
"I was unaware that I was looking unwell," he retorted, knowing that it was not quite the scathing insult he should have delivered to keep up appearances.
"Oh, not unwell, Severus, simply a little under the weather. Preoccupied. Paler than usual. I rather thought that was why you decided to go abroad."
Albus couldn't possibly really think that he had gone all the way to China in order to get some sun or, Merlin forbid, to relax. It was doubtless a gambit to persuade him to give up his secrets. On the other hand, no one had ever accused the old coot of being unobservant. He had clearly noticed something of last term's situation, despite Severus' attempts to conceal it as best he could. Thank the stars he didn't seem to know any particular details about Lily's little blood-magic experiment and its most unfortunate results, or the questions would have been far more difficult to handle.
"I merely felt the need for a change of scenery." That was true enough as far as it went. Severus allowed a hint of challenge to creep into his eyes as he watched Albus over the rim of his teacup, knowing that the other man would sense his honesty. 'If you want to get anything more out of me, you'll have to dig and pry, force it out of me. Are you up to it, old man?' he thought, looking straight into to sharp blue eyes and practically daring Albus to read his mind. He refused to accept that he was being childish.
"Oh." The Headmaster sipped his own tea. "Perhaps I was wrong then. But there was something bothering you last term?"
"Not at all. Only the stress of attempting to force facts into thick skulls daily and then being compelled to tutor Potter."
Albus' expression gained a hint of victory. Damn.
"I was under the impression that you two were becoming friendly." Hah. If only you knew. There was a malicious part of him that wanted to mention just how friendly Harry had been, just for the sheer shock value. It would be one way of getting his own back for all the times the Headmaster had called him in here just to break some news that had shattered his view of the world. Or to request some favour that inevitably ended up making his life even more miserable. Or simply for an interrogation that ended with him spewing his guts in front of the man, literally on one especially memorable occasion.
"And," added the other man, paying no attention to his introspection, "I seem to remember that you were calling him Harry. You certainly did so the last time you were in here." He was like a dog with a bone when he got an idea into his head. An annoying, white-coated, long-bearded, persistent terrier, thought Severus.
"I was mistaken in thinking that I was mistaken about him," he said tersely, not caring much that the sentence made next to no sense.
"Ah." Albus was clearly thinking hard about this. "I assume, then, that you will no longer be tutoring him?"
I'm positive you noticed that I wasn't tutoring him at the end of term. "Of course I will continue, if you feel it necessary. However, I would much prefer not to." There, that ought to throw him off the track, at least a little. He hoped. If you didn't want to do something, it was much safer not to let anyone know it.
"We'll see. I'm sure there will be no need for tutoring in the first week or two anyway. After that, well…" Severus reminded himself that no one else would see anything the slightest bit threatening in that sentence, but it didn't help much.
That seemed to be that, for the moment at any rate. "If that's everything, Headmaster?" he asked, as politely as he could manage. He drank the last drops from the teacup and set it and the saucer down on Albus' desk.
"Unless you had anything else you wish to discuss with me?" Albus was still nursing his own cup, looking at him with an expression that had been known to have him telling all in the past.
"No," Severus said firmly. Not unless I wanted to give you a heart attack, and do half Voldemort's job for him.
"Goodbye, Severus."
"Headmaster."
He left the office, pointedly not thinking about Harry. Or the snake-shaped paperweight and the photograph buried at the back of one of his desk drawers.
Certainly, he was not thinking about the fact that in two days he would have to face the boy in a classroom once more.
