Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Part II : Harry and Severus
Chapter Thirteen : More Than Meets the Eye
15 August 1996 (Continued)
Harry made his laboured way back to the interior of the infirmary, his steps dragging; he slowed the closer he got to Snape until he stood outside the closed curtain. It was quiet. Harry had a surge of hope that Snape was sleeping and he could put this off, when a low, disembodied voice disturbed his thoughts. "Enter--or better yet, leave."
Gathering his tattered courage, Harry pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the large space. Snape's eyes were fixed on the opening. "Oh, It's you. You're here. I've seen you. Now, go away," he said and then turned his head to look back up at the ceiling, ignoring him.
In that brief glimpse of Snape's face, Harry noted he was his more normal ivory colour than the stark whiteness of the night before, although he looked much older than before he'd left on the mission. His eyes were still smudged shadows in his face, and there was a haunted quality to them that gave Harry pause. "Um, I don't think--Uh, that is, Mr. Moody and Remus said--"
Still gazing at the vaulted ceiling, Snape interrupted his stammering. "I see learning my Schema did nothing to teach you eloquence. So be it. Now go away."
Stung, Harry spluttered, "What? You don't even know why I'm here."
"Nor do I care to know. The ruminations of your puerile adolescent mind interest me not. You've more to say?" He paused. Harry was tongue-tied--even in bedclothes and bandages, Snape was intimidating. "No? Excellent! Good day to you, Mr. Potter."
"Now wait a minute." Harry finally found his voice and his ire. "I saved your life. The least you could do is hear me out."
As he turned his head slowly to look at Harry, a small, familiar glint in Snape's eyes warned Harry that the Potions Master was almost at the end of his patience, but he just couldn't shake the feeling Snape was pleased in a small way as well. He was certainly civil enough as he mildly said, "A small point. All right, I concede; I'm all ears, Mr. Potter. Speak away."
Harry drew breath and, courage in hand, saw Snape was about to comment. "You conceded the point. Sir. Please don't interrupt me." At Snape's terse nod, he blurted out quickly, "I'm sorry I looked into your Pensieve without permission last term. I was mostly curious; I meant no harm. I knew it was wrong, though, and although that won't take it back, I just wanted you to know I was sorry."
Snape looked thoughtful a moment. "Knowing this, would you do it again if the opportunity presented itself?"
While Harry had envisioned on his way over the several responses he might have to counter, and rehearsed suitable replies, this was not one of them. He thought about it and said slowly, reluctantly, "I might think about it more, depending on the circumstances. I can't promise I wouldn't do it again, but if I did, I wouldn't be as impulsive about it."
Snape's raised brows showed his surprise at Harry's response as if he'd expected a pat, glib answer. "Well, who knew? Potter has some small integrity as well as power. I can work with that."
"Work, sir?" Harry asked, knowing full well the answer.
Snape regarded him closely a moment; his face fell as if disappointed. Smoothing it into indifference, he transfixed Harry with serious, piercing eyes. "Potter, let's get something straight from the beginning. I hate liars only slightly more than I hate dissemblers; you're dissembling right now. You know as well as I that the Headmaster has asked me to resume (against my vehement protests, I might add) your Occlumency lessons and to add Sanos and Schema training as well."
A spasm of discomfort crossed Snape's face and cursing softly, he shifted slightly to ease whatever pained him. He resumed, although it was obvious he was still not entirely comfortable. "This will, unfortunately, require us to spend a great deal of my personal time with you if you are to master both--time in which I will accept no prevarication in any form. I would rather you be unpleasant and tell the truth, than be polite and lie. You made a good beginning a moment ago, let's not ruin it before we start."
"Yes sir," Harry replied, inwardly pleased by the backhanded compliment--his first in recent memory.
He eyed Harry as if reading him, which Harry knew he could very well be doing. He didn't try to block him. Nodding slightly, Snape said, "Very well. I will Owl you with your new class schedule as soon as the harridan who runs this ward says I may leave its accursed confines."
Harry suppressed a smile; he knew exactly how Snape felt. He hated being in the infirmary once he was awake.
Snape caught the smile--his face changed between amusement and annoyance. The customary expression won when he asked, "You have more, Potter?"
Harry raised a brow in surprise. He decided to test Snape's claims about honesty. "Well, no, sir. Not from ME."
Snape's confusion almost made Harry laugh. Then he could see the knowledge dawning; he looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "You're correct. I was remiss." He took a deep breath, and recited like a schoolboy, "Thank you for making a credible potion--even if I still say it was a fluke," he finished, muttering.
Harry stared at him, arms folded.
He let loose a sigh. "All right, maybe it wasn't a fluke. Damn, you're almost as bad as Dumbledore," Snape mumbled and spoke a little louder to overcome the hoarseness of his voice. "I find it appalling you found your Sanos powers on my person and your Schema talents in my lab, but since it obviously went well I thank you for healing me." His face turned very serious a moment, "There are few things I truly depend upon to do my work, and my voice is one of them. Without it, I can make no potions, can plead no cases, cannot survive. Lucius knew this when he tried to destroy it. Please understand--I am sincere in my gratitude for the healing of it, if for nothing else." Snape held his eyes.
Harry nodded. "I would like to say it was nothing, and perhaps it was since I have no idea what I did. However, you are most welcome."
Hesitating, Harry saw Snape was rapidly tiring, his face flushing with the effort of controlling his discomfort. He went on in a rush, "One other thing, sir." Snape raised an enquiring brow. Harry took this as encouragement. "You made a bad assumption when you caught me looking at your memory. I did not 'enjoy' it. I found the whole incident mortifying; I was ashamed of my father, of Sirius and Remus not only for what they did but what they didn't do, namely stop my father, who was a right jerk if you ask me. It was hard to see my father that way, but it made me understand, just a little bit, why you hate me so much if you thought I was anything like him. I'm not asking you to like me, but I wanted you to know--I'm not like that--at all."
Assuming his imminent dismissal he turned and left the cubicle, leaving a bemused Snape in his wake. They both had a lot of time ahead to think on what had been said--and not.
****
21 August 1996
Harry sat in the open window of his dorm room when a tiny owl arrived with a letter. Climbing out of the deep seat, he rummaged around his trunk, got out a Hedwig-sized owl treat, and while the brown beauty was daintily breaking it up, he went back to the window to see who sent the message; from the handwriting, he guessed it was from the Headmaster. Settling in, he opened the envelope after watching the owl eat the last morsel. The little bird, no bigger than his fist, flew to land gracefully on his knee. Flipping her wings back, she waited for a reply. He bent his head, unfolding the parchment he'd pulled out.
It was from the Headmaster, as he'd thought, requesting a meeting with him--he looked at the clock--in two hours, if it was convenient. He shrugged, staring out at the sunlit forest beyond. "It's not like I have a lot to do up here by myself," he said to the owl staring intently at him.
He held out a hand and the owl hopped into it and minced up his arm to settle on his shoulder. He carefully climbed out of the window and went to his desk. Pulling out pen and ink, he penned an acceptance on the parchment, resealed it, and handed it to the owl who had jumped off his shoulder to pace on the wood top of the desk. Dwarfed by the envelope, the deceptively strong little owl flew off out the window, dropping out of sight quickly. Harry went back to the window thinking Dumbledore might also have sent him a second message about strength and size.
While he wasn't quite sure why the meeting was necessary, he suspected it might have something to do with all that had happened the week before in the infirmary. After his talk with Snape he'd gone back to his cubicle realising he was almost close enough to touch him if there'd been no curtain in the way. It was oddly comforting, but in the night his sleep had been interrupted repeatedly, mostly by pain wracked groans torn from a raw throat, but once from dream induced shouts echoing something from his own. It was then he knew the Potions Master was still very sick--the overheard conversation of the morning between Snape and Dumbledore as well as the later one between the two of them was revealed to be acts of will rather than of wellness. Each time Harry woke throughout the night, he heard the rustling of robes and the sound of Remus' and Dumbledore's familiar low voices trying to soothe the distressed Potions Master back to sleep.
Harry wasn't sure he was ready to accept a human Snape yet.
About halfway through the night, a hand quietly pulled the curtain between the cubicles aside and Remus's head appeared, peeking around the curtain. When he saw Harry was awake, he turned his head and said something to another person in with Snape; Harry assumed it was Dumbledore, although he couldn't be sure from the soft reply. Pulling the curtain wider, Remus stepped through and after closing it behind him, gestured for Harry to scoot over, which he did. Remus sat on the bed, back against the headboard and wordlessly stroked Harry's hair until he fell asleep, his back tucked against Remus' legs. The next morning he'd been moved nearer to the front of the infirmary.
The distance had helped a bit, but he discovered the next night that the Potions Master was troubled by as many bad dreams as he himself was. Remus sat vigil with Harry each night, and when his own inevitable dreams came, or he was awakened by Snape's incoherent shouts, Remus soothed Harry back to sleep in much the same manner as the others were doing with Snape. For the first time in a long while, Harry felt secure. No one had ever sat up with him through the night; he'd not known the nightmares and disquieting visions were less disturbing when he wasn't alone.
The first day out of the infirmary had been blessedly quiet; he was relieved he didn't have to listen to the Potions Master's vehement protests every time they gave him the potion Harry had made. He'd decided after the first full day in the isolated bed that Snape made a worse patient than he did and if Madame Pomfrey looked frazzled and was a little short-tempered with him, he could easily forgive her in light of the heated arguments flowing out of Snape's cubicle every time she went in to check on him.
Right before Harry's discharge three days ago, he and Remus had choked back the laughter when they saw Madame Pomfrey march up to the curtain around Snape's bed and pausing, straightened the apron she always wore with a crisp tug. She pulled a bottle of the green potion out of her pocket in one hand and readied her wand with the other. She'd gone in, wand extended. A triumphant spell later, a surprised yelp was cut off mid-sound. Remus, his eyes bright with mirth, remarked that Severus should've known she'd really use the full body bind she'd threatened him with the last time she'd been there. A few minutes passed when a smug Medi-witch came striding out of Snape's cubicle. Harry had chortled to Remus that it was too bad Madame Pomfrey had left the Potions Master 'in a bind'.
He smiled briefly at the memory and, fixing his eyes on a flock of crows overhead, he wondered if perhaps the meeting was to go over his OWL's. He'd been expecting them all summer, but they'd never arrived that he knew of. That they were late caused him no small anxiety, and he worried about how badly he must have scored. He shied away from the memories of what had been happening at the time of the tests, instead thinking more positively that Dumbledore would not throw him away even if his scores proved he was not fit enough to do much of anything. Surely he would allow him to finish school. Although, he supposed he could stay on as a caretaker like Filch or Hagrid. He decided he wouldn't mind staying at Hogwarts as long as he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys.
He briefly wondered if the Dursleys had hidden any mail from him that first week, but wasn't sure because when he'd asked McGonagall shortly before being discharged about his scores, she'd told him 'they were on the way'. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was 'off' because McGonagall wouldn't look at him while they talked, her whole manner telling him she wanted to be well away.
Maybe they'd all seen his scores and, knowing his future was grim, were trying to spare him their pity or worse, their laughter. Yes, he supposed low scores would explain why he'd received no letter from Hogwarts either, no listing of his school supplies, although Snape had promised a revised class schedule. But there had been no further summons from Snape and the promised revisions had not materialised although it had not surprised him too much--Snape had not been officially discharged yet from the Infirmary. Or maybe they were all so busy trying to help Snape, they had no time for the only student in the school. He remembered how they had all eagerly gathered around the Potions Master when he'd returned that day last summer at Grimmauld Place. Perhaps they were doing so even now.
In fact he'd been alone the last three days. He hadn't seen Remus or anyone else since he'd been released from Madame Pomfrey's care. Maybe they'd just forgotten him. His meals had been served by unfamiliar, surprisingly silent house-elves, his things washed and cleaned on schedule. It was as if he were all alone in the castle. And he'd found out his first day back that he was effectively locked in the Gryffindor House. The door to the corridor would not respond to his touch, although he had been free for the first time to wander the entirety of the rooms, including the girl's side. He'd concluded that their facilities were the same as the boy's except their bathroom was bigger and had more privacy for bathing. He'd run out of it, blushing, from the catcalls of their mirrors.
He'd tried to break the monotony by writing letters to his friends, but had received no reply, not that he really expected any. When he thought about it, he realised that until the little owl had shown up a while ago, he'd received nothing from anyone since the day before his birthday.
The lack of a birthday had hurt--he supposed his friends, if he could call them that, had either got tired of him or just forgot. There's been no Owls at midnight to interrupt his preparation of the Mandrake roots for Snape. No Owls loitering when he'd been dismissed in the early hours of the morning. After waking near noon, he'd waited, by himself, in the Gryffindor common room for Owls that never came. He'd eaten dinner in the Great Hall--Snape and Dumbledore were the only ones present and other than the usual nod from the Headmaster and a tired glare from the Potions Master, no words were spoken. The meal itself was ordinary. By sunset, he'd felt much the same as he had when he'd turned eleven laying on the floor of the cottage in the middle of the sea. Isolated, alone, and desolate. The whole situation was hopeless.
A truer thought struck him as his eyes slowly closed, his body relaxing. Maybe they were going to train him just enough to fight Voldemort and then set him adrift. After all, what use could he possibly be? He'd probably failed the OWL's, but they still needed him--the prophecy wouldn't go away just because he couldn't fulfill it. Maybe he should just spare everyone the trouble of worrying about who was going to win--only one of them could, and the other Wizard was so strong, so powerful--
"Harry?" A hand settled gently on his shoulder, then gripped hard. "Harry?!"
Harry was barely aware of it, his thoughts spiralling ever inward.
****
In later years, after he defeated Voldemort, Remus would tell Harry he'd never been more scared in his entire life than when they'd rushed into the dorm room and found Harry in a slumped daze, his lax body about to topple out of the window. He and Dumbledore had left the Infirmary to investigate when Snape, coming out of a drugged sleep, had raged at them in near panic to go 'find the boy'. Remus had dragged a limp Harry out of the window and onto the floor while Dumbledore muttered a series of spells. With an inarticulate cry, Harry had gone rigid and then fallen back his eyes wide and afraid. An Obliviate later, he loosened. It was now early evening and with an Ever Dream Spell, Harry was fast asleep.
"Well, I'll be damned, Snape was right. He was in trouble," Remus remarked quietly, sitting on the bed next to Harry, the youth curled into his side. "What the hell happened, Albus?"
Dumbledore shook his head, his face taut with worry. "A most insidious under-handed attack, to borrow a pet word from our esteemed Potions Master. And a bit more subtle than I usually associate with Riddle--I suspect Lucius had something to do with it." He reached across Remus and ran his hand over Harry's head. "I regret we had to isolate Harry as much as we did this summer, but with the circumstances surrounding those arrested at the Battle for the Ministry of Magic and Fudge's subsequent inaction, it was for his protection. Unfortunately, it was essential he not know the danger; making him miss his birthday was especially hard for him, but Molly assures me she will make sure he gets all his presents on the train."
Remus shifted Harry closer, his hand rubbing the boy's back in slow circles. "I wish I had known--you made me his guardian, I should have stayed. There were any number of others who could have done my tasks this summer."
Dumbledore looked out the window for a moment, lost in thought. Nodding as if he'd come to a decision, he turned sympathetic eyes to Remus and said gently, "I made you his guardian for a variety of reasons, the foremost being that Harry trusts and cares for you. And I know you care for him beyond your close ties with his parents. I was, and still am, certain you would protect him with your life if need be." Remus nodded and Dumbledore continued, "However, I also chose you to serve until I could make the others sure of Severus' motives towards him. They have never been what they appear on the surface."
Remus was a bit shocked and more than a little curious. "Explain yourself," he snapped brusquely.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah. Now that's not so easy. I suppose the simplest explanation is our Severus has developed an 'affinity', if you will, with Harry because of the Occlumency lessons they've shared." He looked like he was going to add more, but stopped himself. When Remus was about to push, he fixed Remus with a well-known steely gaze; Remus knew better than to argue. He shrugged and watched Dumbledore relax a bit.
"While you and the others arranged for Harry's departure from the Dursleys, Severus and I stayed behind and made contingency plans to protect him here. Petunia grudgingly allowed that Harry would be welcome back next year and so the old wards will protect him another year, but not as much had he stayed there for the entire summer. The plan for the interim was Severus', if needed, and unfortunately it was. While he was subdued when you first brought him here, Harry was a bundle of anger after he arrived and the situation soon got out of hand."
He walked over to the window and Remus had to strain to hear him murmur, "It's so quiet in the dungeons." He pulled the window shut and locked it.
Returning, he conjured a squashy chair near Remus and sat in it, his lined face tired. "Severus' plan was fairly simple--keep Harry calm and busy--only then could he provide Harry a modicum of protection from Voldemort's inevitable invasions; Harry was not ready to do so on his own. Severus worked him hard and gave him no time to brood on it--and no time to see what was going on here with the Order in case Severus was unsuccessful and Voldemort got through. Severus felt, and rightly so, that Harry carried enough guilt without adding an unwitting betrayal of the Order to his 'rather extensive list', as he put it."
His eyes unfocused as if seeing something far away. "There were many reasons I made you both his guardians and only one reason I sent you away. Harry needed to stay close to Severus."
Shaking his head, Dumbledore continued, "We'd thought the plan successful. Voldemort repeatedly tried to enter Harry's dreams, but Severus was able to block him as if it were Harry doing it."
Remus' voice was shaky. "Snape dream-linked with Harry?"
"Yes, he did--at my request--it was the only way." When Remus nodded his understanding, Dumbledore continued, "Severus is not a 'registered' Legilimens, but he is as strong as Riddle and, fortunately for us and him, a stronger Occlumens. He tried to shield Harry, but obviously Voldemort got enough of a look to know he was no longer at the Dursleys and, more importantly, with whom Harry was spending most of his time." Albus lowered his voice. "We think that when Severus did not inform his 'master' of Harry's whereabouts, Voldemort got suspicious and Severus was called."
They both thought about the more subtle injuries the Potions Master had suffered beneath his robes and shuddered.
"Voldemort obviously thought him gone, but did not know Harry could heal him. I wasn't completely sure myself, I thought Harry might be able to--someday," he chuckled, something indefinable flickering across his face. "While Severus thought he'd fended Voldemort off from Harry this last week, it is obvious he was not totally successful." He paused and Remus knew he was thinking of the incoherent jumble of sorrow Harry had let loose when they'd pulled him from the window before Dumbledore had spelled him asleep. Remus tightened his hold on Harry, glad they'd made it in time; the alternative was unthinkable.
Remus' thoughts were so far away he startled when Dumbledore started speaking again. "With the attack on St. Mungos the other day, there wasn't much choice--I'd thought him safe here; Severus knew better, but Poppy is very efficient and he was not conscious long enough to tell us any different."
Dumbledore got up and started pacing at the end of the bed. "What disturbs me more is I am coming to believe the whole attack was a lure so Voldemort could work on Harry undisturbed. I fear our Harry is in for a rough time this year. We will need to arrange his schedule so he is rarely alone."
He continued moving around the room, clearly agitated, something Remus had only seen when members of the Order went missing. In a rare burst of temper, Albus stopped and hit the bedpost with his fist, shaking the frame. "Damn Fudge! He just let them go--two days before Severus was 'disciplined'. 'Improper Evidence' Fudge said when I confronted him on it this morning. Lucius, Avery--all of them--pardoned from Azkaban. What WAS he thinking of?"
"'Given the number of brain cells he had to begin with and considering his most recent thoughts destroyed the remaining two, it remains doubtful he was thinking of much at all.'" Remus quoted, mimicking Snape's baritone and inflections.
Dumbledore stared and then laughed. "Yes, Severus has a unique way of describing the--intelligence--of our Minister of Magic, doesn't he?"
Remus tilted his head to look down at Harry. "Severus really does care about Harry, doesn't he?"
Nodding, Albus put his finger to his lips. "Shh--don't tell him that, though--he'd have your guts for garters for even suggesting it. And then where would I be?" With a wink, Dumbledore settled back in his chair.