Asphodel
Severus sat alone in his office, ignoring the biting chill in the air, and silently refusing to light the fire. His book – tiny, black and leather-bound – lay open on the arm of his chair, where he had slammed it in his frustration at not being able to concentrate. His earlier argument with Albus had done little to ease his mood.
- "He wanders through the corridors like a ghost, Albus. He's in shock and he's grieving. For God's sake, let him go."
"It has only been three days, Severus. I believe it is in all our interests to keep Harry at Hogwarts for the time being. The Ministry may wish yet to question him further, and I myself thought I might talk to Harry about his possible future career… Perhaps you should be present at our meeting?"
Severus slammed his hand down on the desk, making that infernal tea set of Albus' rattle. "You will leave him alone, Albus," he growled. "You have spent seventeen years manipulating me into doing your bidding and you will not subject him to that. You will not turn him into me."
Albus had said nothing, simply regarded him with an infuriatingly noble look on his face, sipping his tea. –
He had stormed back to his rooms, cloak swirling about him, and taken out the book. He sank into a chair by the fireplace, not that there was ever a fire lit there, and began to read. The little black book which had been with him… forever.
That was one thing which could be said for Demitrius and Matriana Snape; for all their faults, they had ensured that Severus and his siblings received a full and extensive alternative education. This had included a basic understanding of classical mythology which was, as all Slytherin children were taught, founded in magic, and recorded by wizards. Virgil himself was a Warlock of great renown. Of Slytherin ancestry, of course.
And oh, Gods, Elysia… He let his head fall into his hands and closed his eyes. This book was from her, it was hers, her namesake. He refused to let himself be drawn down that path again…
He had slammed the book down on the arm of the chair and stood up, angry that he had lost control. Damn you, Albus. This is what you have turned me into.
Such a nice little old man, so wise. So kind of him to take in that Snape boy, the Death Eater. Imagine it, a Death Eater teaching the children. Ah, but if Albus trusts him… Albus must trust him, or he would have turned him in. What a good man, a saint.
And that's the problem, isn't it, Albus? When the saint takes off his glasses, and the twinkle dies, what is left but a man to whom I owe my life. I took the liberty, Severus, I'm sure you don't mind... Of course, if you would rather… If you'd prefer not to… You can refuse…
But I can never refuse you, Albus. None of us can. It's such a clever trick, fooling people into underestimating you. But I have seen through it, Albus, through your welcoming smile and your afternoon tea. And it makes me despise myself all the more for the acquiescence. Any debt I owe the boy's parents will be paid in full by this one action – keeping their son away from you, Albus.
Severus saw movement from the corner of his eye and looked up to see that the swirling mists in the modified foe-glass above his door were beginning to clear and take form – someone was approaching his rooms.
Not Albus, he always summoned Severus – a case of the mountain always going to Mohammed and wishing that just once he could tell Mohammed exactly where he could bloody well go. Few others endured Severus' company, and fewer still actively sought it. Then who –
Ah. Harry Potter stood at Severus' door, looking cold, scared and tear-stained.
Severus clenched his fists. This was Albus' doing. The boy should not be here, should not be so alone. Should not remind Severus so much of himself.
He strode over and opened the door. Harry raised his head and met Severus' gaze with bloodshot emerald eyes – so flat, so empty… So like his mother's when they found her… Stop it, Severus.
Without a word he stepped aside and let Harry in. He had been outside in the grounds, Severus noticed – there were flecks of snow melting on his cheeks and in his hair. Natural pathetic fallacy, Severus thought, that it should snow, as it had for the past three days, in July. The sky was crying for her dead children.
And now Harry stood before him, shivering. Severus sighed inwardly and moved forward. Gently, as though trying not to startle the boy, he lifted Harry's sodden cloak from his shoulders and hung it on a stand beside the door. Taking his own travelling cloak from the peg beside it, he draped it round Harry's shoulders and led him towards the fireplace. A quick 'Incendio' lit a fire in the grate.
How long has it been since you let yourself bring warmth to these rooms?
He silently gestured for Harry to sit in the soft chair by the fire, the one on whose arm his book rested. He did, and Severus left him there, retreating without a word to his work area.
Lavender, castor oil, a little asphodel… Stir clockwise, slowly, concentrate, stir clockwise, slowly, think, stir clockwise, don't think, stir, slowly, worse, stir, concentrate…
The boy sat, absolutely still. He had not moved to pull Severus' cloak around his shoulders where it had slipped off. Transfixed by the fire, glowing like a phoenix's feathers, sitting in an office, waiting to be condemned, watching its feathers glow, stopping the tears when it rests its head against your shoulder and sings to you, singing for your absolution.
But the fire might consume you if you cannot look away. It will draw you in, reduce you to ashes, and die, leave you lifeless.
Opening a cupboard, Severus produced two glasses and a decanter of fire-coloured, burning liquid. He poured a little into each glass and set the decanter on his desk. He seated himself in the other chair by the fire and handed Harry a glass. The boy gazed at it blankly for a moment, before lifting it to his lips, tipping his head back, and draining it. He grimaced and closed his eyes for a second.
"That is single malt," Severus said pointedly. "It is meant to be savoured."
Harry said nothing for a moment. "Give me some more and I'll savour it," he said hoarsely.
"Accio decanter." Severus caught the crystal bottle and re-filled the offered glass. Placing the decanter on the floor beside him, he sipped from his own glass and felt the re-assuring warmth slip down his throat.
Harry's eyes were once again on the fire. It threw flickering shadows over the rest of the room, and lent his face a haunted look, his eyes sunken and clouding with tears. With a crash, the glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, where it smashed on the floor, the fire casting a thousand twinkling lights about the room as it caught the broken crystal.
Harry let out a choked gasp and gazed down at the amber liquid pooled on the stone. He fell to his knees and, with trembling hands, began to pick up the pieces of crystal.
"Sorry, I- I…" He began miserably. He drew in his breath at the pain in his hand as the crystal cut into his fingers, and dropped the shards back onto the floor, holding his hand and staring at the blood welling up from the cut. Suddenly, a ragged sob tore itself from his throat and he crumpled to the floor, clasping his hand to his chest.
Severus had moved forward to inspect the boy's hand, when a there was a loud crack behind him, and he had to duck to avoid the tiny pieces of crystal flying through the air like sparkling shrapnel as his own glass exploded. Moments later, as Harry's sobs grew louder, the decanter was violently reduced to splinters and rained down upon them, causing Severus to throw the travelling cloak over them both to prevent the shards landing on them, tearing at their skin. With a succession of loud cracks, empty bottles and vials along the shelves began to burst outwards into the room. The foe-glass and crystal paper-weight on Severus' desk began to crack and Severus turned to Harry, grasping him by the shoulders and shouting to make himself heard above the noise of exploding glassware.
"Stop this, Potter! Stop it!"
The boy's sobs continued, and Severus did the only thing he could think of. He pulled Harry towards him and held him, his arms across the boy's chest, his hands holding Harry's wrists so that he could not fight, and refused to let go, even when Harry tore at him with his nails. When the sounds of breaking glass finally began to diminish, as did the tears, Harry fell back against Severus, exhausted and trembling.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Harry croaked. Severus released his hands and Harry sagged forward, lowering his head onto his knees, drawing them up to his chest.
Severus moved away silently and withdrew to the other side of the room. Taking out his wand he muttered a quiet 'Evanesco', followed by 'Reparo'. Spilled liquids disappeared, and decanters and vials returned to their former shapes and positions. Unnerved, Severus continued the preparation of the potion, leaving Harry huddled and trembling on the floor.
A little while later, silently chopping and weighing, stirring and sprinkling, Severus was absorbed in his work, oblivious to any other presence in the room, and when Harry approached him apprehensively, he utterly failed to notice him.
"Dreamless sleep," Harry murmured, gazing into the cauldron. "It smells like loneliness."
Severus said nothing for a moment and continued stirring. "The flask," he said, indicating a small bottle which stood on the workbench behind Harry.
Harry picked it up and handed it to Severus, who took it with his right hand, which was inexpertly wound in a bandage. Harry saw his wince, which he tried to subdue as he gripped the bottle, but made no comment. Severus ladled some of the potion into the flask and used his wand to stopper it and send it to rest on a shelf alongside a variety of similar containers.
"They think I drink it," Harry said quietly, "every night… I prefer the dreams."
Severus extinguished the flames beneath the cauldron and looked at Harry as though seeing him clearly for the first time. He drew his wand and cast a warming spell over him, and Harry shuddered slightly as the warmth slipped over him, making him realise quite how cold he had been.
"Sit by the fire." Severus said, his voice harsh in the silence which had settled.
Harry made no sign of acknowledgement except that he drew nearer to the fire and sank down into the chair he had previously occupied. He reached down and picked up Severus' cloak from where it lay on the floor, and pulled it around himself. Severus took his seat once more and directed his gaze to the fire, watching the flames dance their sinister, beckoning dance. The silence was broken only by the crackle of the fire as it consumed its supply of wood.
The flames seemed to murmur, to sing gently, words he knew, words he never wanted to hear another speak…
"His demum exactis, perfecto munere diuae, deuenere locos laetos et amoena uirecta fortunatorum nemorum sedesque beatas. largior hic campos aether et lumine uestit purpureo,"
He turned, and found Harry, the book open before him, murmuring to himself as he read.
"solemque suum, sua sidera norunt –"
Starting forward, Severus snatched the book away and slammed it shut, holding it close to him without realising it. Harry looked at him, alarmed.
"Don't…" Severus rasped hoarsely, "Do not read this."
"Sorry." Harry whispered, eyes averted and face lowered. Severus mentally scolded himself as he watched Harry withdraw into the folds of his cloak, huddled in the armchair. "I –"
"You –" Severus paused and waited for Harry to continue his sentence.
Harry lifted his eyes warily to Severus' and spoke so quietly that Severus barely heard him, "I saw you reading it before… Before we went out. I was curious …"
Severus let his fingers wander of their own accord over the well-worn leather and was silent for a moment. He then opened the cover and leaned forward, placing the book on the arm of Harry's chair. Without picking it up, Harry read the inscription.
"Your wife…?" Harry asked tentatively, unsure whether the notion of him asking Severus such a personal question, or the possibility of Severus being married was the stranger.
"My sister," Severus corrected, leaving the confirmation of his unmarried status unspoken.
Harry was silent for a moment. "She's dead," he said, finally.
Severus was momentarily taken aback by Harry's abrupt articulation, and the certainty with which Harry had known that she was… dead. "It belonged to her."
The silence returned, as it so frequently had, until it was broken again by Harry, his voice hoarse, "How many? In the… How many?"
Severus raised his eyes to look at the dark-haired man-child, whose head was bowed and shoulders hunched. "Too many."
"But not us. Not me," Harry said quietly, and Severus heard the tone, an echo of his own so many years before. "I don't take the Dreamless Sleep… I want my dreams of death, they're the best I've ever had… I'm not scared of dying, I'm scared of how much I want it."
The silence this time was deafening, and Harry looked up at Severus, suddenly horrified by his own confession. For one long moment, Severus tried to ignore the desire to retreat into his workroom and pray that this wounded creature would go away and leave him in peace and not remind him so much of himself. That moment was all Harry needed to get tremblingly to his feet and stumble to the door.
He escaped into the corridor, and Severus heard him begin to run. It idly registered that Harry had left still wearing his cloak. He realised that he had drawn blood, this time from his left palm, where the nails of his clenched fist were digging into the skin. He let his head fall into his hands and prayed that he could for once forget just how much he wanted it, too.
~~~
Notes:
Latin extract from Virgil's Aeneid. These extracts are from Book 6, and are from lines 637-641. Translation:
'These holy rites perform'd, they took their way
Where long extended plains of pleasure lay:
The verdant fields with those of heav'n may vie,
With ether vested, and a purple sky;'
and:
'Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know;'
Harry's line: "I want my dreams of death, they're the best
I've ever had…" is a misquotation from the song 'Mad World' by Tears for Fears.
The line is actually: 'The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever
had.'
