Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Part IV : Resolution
Chapter Thirty Eight : Discord and Harmony
12 July 2003
Harry winced and could almost wish she was sneering at him. Her eyes, sparking dangerously with the carefully controlled fury within, held him captive, filling him with her disdain.
"--of all the halfbaked idiocy. Your fatuity is by far the most ill-advised, ill-judged, irrational gibberish I have ever had the misfortune to encounter--"
He could have ignored her had she screeched, but her velvet voice, made worse by its quietly spoken precision, turned his insides to pudding as each clearly enunciated word fell steaming within him.
"--What were you thinking of? No, don't answer that--your obvious mindlessness is surpassed only by your immaturity in this matter."
Oh, it was deceptive all right--quiet, melodious, genteel even, each syllable from the beautiful mouth, deadly, her aim accurate.
"--Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You may actually have broken the wizarding record for witless blunders--"
He sincerely wished he'd never answered her summons.
"--held by Wilifred the Faceless and he at least had the decency to limit his dimwitted attempts to shrink his nose to his own person."
Sensing a lull, he ventured, "Well, I--"
"Silence! Did I give you leave to speak?" At the shake of Harry's head, Cerise continued her harangue, "Stand up straight, Mr. Potter." Unconsciously, Harry did so. "Better. I am not moved by your 'hang-dog-feel-sorry-for-me-I-messed-up' attitude. You should be--never mind, they outlawed that years ago. Have you any concept of what you've done?"
Harry hesitated. Was this one of her rhetorical questions or one he was supposed to answer?
"I'm waiting, Mr. Potter."
Cerise's arms were folded tight against her chest and Harry had no doubt there was a foot tapping impatiently somewhere under her full robes.
"Um, yes ma'am. I do." Six years of higher education and for the life of him, Harry couldn't think of anything more articulate to say. He felt twelve again standing toe to toe with Snape the first time he'd exploded a cauldron. Come to think of it--
"Oh, you think so? When we've already established your puerile state?" She leaned forward to the limits of the portrait and hissed, "I think not, Mr. 'Um, I do'. And tell me, have you bothered to tell Severus any of this yet?"
Finally a question he could answer. "Ah, yes I have."
"How did Severus take the news?"
Still pinned by her blazing eyes, he answered like the simpleton she claimed he was, "Not well."
"I can well imagine." Certain she was going to blast him again, the mildness of her rejoinder kept him off-balance. His suspicion that this was her intent was confirmed when she continued. "He hates lying more than anything. It's the only thing he ever demanded from me. Didn't matter who I was or what I was--as long as I told him the truth, even when it hurt, we were all right."
Relaxing a little, Harry decided to test the roiling waters of her temper. "But did he return the favour? I mean, did he always tell you the truth?"
She raised an incredulous brow at him. "Of course not--he was a spy. But he never lied."
"Huh?" Wasn't this a contradiction?
"Just because he didn't tell me everything didn't mean that what he DID tell me wasn't the truth. You do see the difference?"
Harry considered it and said cautiously, "In a way--sounds like rationalising to me."
Impatient, she waved her hand at him. "Harry, surely you know the difference between a lie of commission versus one of omission?"
Ah, another easy one. "Of course I do--they have courses for that."
Taken aback, she asked, more curious than anything else, "You study this in school? Really?"
He took the first steady breath he had the whole evening. "Yeah, ethics and philosophy."
She shrugged, not impressed. "Ah well, most of us learned it the hard way, as you are now, when someone got hurt. All right, Mr. 'I-learned-it-in-class-but-haven't-a-clue-what-it-really-means', are they both lies?"
"Yes," he answered firmly, happier to be back on solid ground.
"Absolutely?"
"Well, they say an argument can be made for consequences, but I don't agree with the notion. If I did, then what I did against Severus would have been all right until he found out, at which time it would have been wrong. It can't be both."
She looked at him with pity. "Well, actually, my dear, it can, but hopefully you won't know that for at least a few more decades. So tell me, Mr. 'It-can't-be-both-because-I-say-it-can't', if one omits to tell the truth are they still telling the truth?"
He thought about that a second and slowly said, "No, I don't think so."
She snorted. "Then where're your doubts in the matter? You omitted the truth, therefore you lied."
Harry replied with some heat, "Perhaps, but it went both ways. I know I didn't tell Severus about my mastery, but he doesn't tell me about what he's involved with that is important to both of us, either. On one hand it hurts, on the other it just makes me angry, and on another I am quite certain I don't want to know.
"Hmmm--three hands, eh? Have you seen a Healer about that?" she asked dryly.
"Huh?"
He could tell she was impatient with herself now; it made him feel somewhat better that she had less control than she let on. The feeling disappeared with her scornful, "Never mind. Harry, surely you don't think the two sets of circumstances are even remotely the same, do you?"
"Actually, I do."
She shook her head. "Pish. And here I thought we were making progress. All right, let's see if I can explain this to you in words of no syllables or less. Severus hid from you something he did--you hid from him something you are. There is a difference, you know. See?"
"No. No, I don't 'see'. I hid something I 'did' as well." He could see the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. The storm clouds gathering in her eyes were frightening and he prepared himself to get blasted.
Cerise held onto her temper by the thinnest margin. Her voiced thrummed in its intensity. "Hardly. Who is Mr. 'Rationalisation' now, hmmm? Severus may not have told you certain incidences in his life and perhaps these omissions may have made it more difficult for you to guess where he is coming from on any one issue. However, you kept two fucking years of your life from him. You denied him every pound of joy he might have derived from your triumphs and kept him from sharing an ounce of the weight of your failures. You denied him your life while all the while proclaiming 'Oh, Severus, I love you, I want to spend my whole life with you.' Bah! What life?"
Her voice filled with righteous anger, each word sharpened into a knife she hoped would pierce his blind obtuseness and selfish hide. "I ask you again, Mr. Potter. What life? Which one did you deign give him? The one you hid from him? The one you did not share with him while you grew up? As you grew into another person? Into a person who expected, later, when it was safe and done, to just drop the truth on him like a sack of rotting potatoes, assuming he would eat them, worms and all, just like he has with every other reprehensible action against him? Was this your love?"
"Stop! Just stop!" Harry cried, sinking to the floor, his legs unable to hold him any longer. Her words burned the shame into his skin, branding him with her virtue.
"No, Mr. Potter. I will not. It is time you heard my truth. You have committed the boldest lie. Pure and simple. And then, to top it off, you expected Severus to come waltzing back to you, happy and complacent, his heart full of love, saying, 'Harry what a good boy you are. Of course I'll take you back. I love getting my arse kicked by those I love. Everyone else does it, why not you?'" Her voice filled with a venom she could no longer contain. "Fah! He deserves better. Why are you any different from all the others who have taken advantage of his vulnerability? From those who have, at least, honestly hurt him to his face. Frankly I am so ashamed of you that for the first time since I died, I wish I was not a painting so I could kick your sorry bum into the next parish."
Harry was on the floor, bent over, his face buried in his knees. Cerise watched him stoically, her calm returning, judging the moment. She knew this young man, and he was so young, was salvageable, but she needed to break him, make him see the truth which the others were glossing over, before she could build him back up. It was a fine art she'd learned with her clients; she'd been sought by many a guilty man for her talents. Counselor, friend, retributor, punisher, and whore, all rolled up into one.
Judging the time right, she said softly, sadly, as if he would break with her words, "Do you really know what you did to him? Has no one told you?"
He raised dry anguished eyes to her and straightened, still on his knees. He shook his head. "No, but I have seen."
Still quiet, she could see him strain to hear her words. "Well, I will, if only to keep you from doing it again. After seeing him a few weeks ago after a year away, I was appalled at his condition. Thin, depressed, doubting, Severus Snape--morose? It's not to be borne. And all because of you, a foolish boy. A stupid, childish, infantile reprobate who has the power to wither another man, a fine man, a man who did not in any way deserve to be treated the way you did," she finished, her voice stronger, convincing.
Harry dropped his head and studied the flagstones. "I know. I was wrong. He is punishing me in his own way."
Her waspish voice stung him. "Obviously not enough if you can still sound like you're feeling sorry for yourself.
Her barbed comments hit home. "He won't touch me. He won't speak to me."
She snorted in contempt. "And you wonder why he has withdrawn?"
He shook his head again. Slowly, he said, "No, no. I know." He paused and considered her a long moment. She was like an avenging angel, her sword of words bright and flaming. He felt purged by her righteousness and found himself saying, "Cerise, you're right in everything you've said. I wish the others had been as blunt." He looked down the hallway, torn. "Is it hopeless? Should I just leave and let him alone, let him get on with his life?"
"Only if you want to kill him. Gods know why, but he still loves you. I suspect he just doesn't know if that's enough anymore."
"What should I do?"
"Apologise."
"I did."
"Obviously not enough or he would be thawing to you."
He snorted and shook his head.
"Harry, let me give you a tiny piece of advice. There is no such thing as too much apologising. Ever. One must keep doing it, constantly, and with feeling, until the injured party tells you they're sated with your humiliation and says 'enough all ready'. Until that happens, and it may never with Severus--no one who has ever needed to do so has ever apologised to him. Once you start, he may take it in his head to make you pay for every transgression you've ever done, in full just for the novelty of it. I would also strongly suggest some judicious grovelling as well. Your knees are too clean. Grovelling is always good, as is a little head, but I'm sure you already know that."
She smiled inside at the small twist to his lips. Good, she'd found something to which he could relate. "Stay contrite and polite. Under no circumstances should you lose your temper or your patience--you've lost the right to do so. And nothing in writing, unless it's business--written apologies constitute evidence that can be looked at over and over. It just makes it more real, and therefore worse."
"But what if Severus picks a fight? What do I do then?"
He was so young, she almost took pity on him. "I seriously doubt that--Severus is easily injured by those he knows and loves well, so when hurt by them he goes to ground, holes up in a little den of his own making to lick his wounds, safe from prying eyes. In this he stays quiet, unless he's angry. Then you can usually gauge how much he loves you with how much he yells. Loud and long and you're all right--silence is deadly with him."
She watched him mull over her advise and could almost follow his thoughts as they raced through his head. She was struck by a sudden insight and knew she was not quite finished yet. There were doubts still showing in his eyes. "Tell me Harry, how is it you don't know these things? You're his lover. Surely you had some issues to work through before this escapade."
"Actually, it's never come up before. I mean, he's yelled at me, but only when I messed up on my lessons before we were--intimate. Since then, he's been fairly even-tempered." He blushed as he thought about the 'other times' Severus wasn't quite so quiet.
"Really?" she arched a brow, lost in thought. Intimate? Was this an area where she could draw him out? A subject that could break up even the most stalwart couples if there was discord? Lord knew there'd been enough of them to pay the bills in great comfort. "And you've had no--disagreements? Even about sex?" She knew how Severus had always shied nimbly from the subject and was frankly curious as to how they'd worked their way through that formidable obstacle. For a small while, he'd always crawled back to her establishment after his little 'dalliances' with Lucius and, given the nature of some of his injuries, she suspected Voldemort as well, although, as usual, he refused to speak of it to her. She and Georg, a young man in her training to whom Severus had taken a liking, had always quietly healed him and offered what succor he'd accept.
When she saw Harry hesitating, she said gently but with a small bit of humour, "Come now, Harry. Surely you don't think I can be shocked by anything of that nature, do you?"
Harry evaded the question. "Well, we've had a few spats and rows, but they've always been short-lived and about inconsequential things like being late for dinner or delaying him for a class." Harry chuckled dryly. "Of course, he was usually equally responsible for his tardiness; it was always fairly easy to make him see the other side of it."
She smiled knowingly. "I can well imagine. So you had no other problems, then?"
Harry's face turned an interesting shade just shy of crimson. Cerise smiled at his discomfort. "Um," he started productively, "I don't know if--"
"It's all right, Harry. I'm just a nosy old woman. If you and Severus are satisfied, then that is all that matters."
Harry blurted out, "He says he is, but I don't know, sometimes. I mean, um, that is, oh hell--we've agreed to no penetrative sex, and I don't know if he's truly satisfied with the decision." he finished in a rush.
Cerise stared at him and then thought about it. She murmured, "Well, that's certainly a unique way of working around his aversions." Then the tone of his voice caught up with her. "You have--issues--with it as well?" She watched his shudder with interest.
"Yeah, you could say so. I was," he struggled with the words, "assaulted, raped several years ago right before Severus and I got together, and the few times we tried 'it', 'it' was--unpleasant--for both of us."
Ah, so they had at least that much in common, probably more; Severus would never have made the commitment to this young man that he obviously did unless there was much more. "Well, seems the two of you have been right sensible about it--sex should never be--unpleasant. It should be a sharing, although many never figure it out over their lifetime." When he nodded thoughtfully, she asked, "And you're happy with your 'arrangement'?" When he said, yes, she added, "And Severus 'professes' to be satisfied as well?"
"He 'says' he is."
"Well, then. There you are. What's there to worry about?" When Harry said nothing, she continued, "Harry, look at me." When she had his full attention, she continued, "I promise you, Severus would never lie about something that profound and personal to you both. If he says he's fine with it, he is. He may not always tell you everything, even the important things, but when words actually come out of Severus's mouth, they are always the truth and honestly spoken. He just doesn't open his mouth all that much." She laughed lightly and muttered, "Well, at least not for me, but he was rather fond of Georg, though."
"Georg?" Harry queried, his face betraying his surprise.
"Ah, never mind. You silly boy, you walked into this having no idea his reaction, did you?" She shook her head. "Well, I am surprised the two of you got along so well from the start, usually it's a rocky road; Severus never does anything the easy way when there's a tortuous route to take." She took heart at Harry's small smile. He was on his way to recovering--good.
"No wonder he's been so despondent. He trusts you, you know, if he made such compromises for you. He doesn't do that lightly, at least not in my experience." She stared at him until he began to squirm under her steady regard. "Get your knees dirty, Harry."
*****
Severus stood just out of the way behind a column, barely able to make out what Cerise was saying to Harry. He'd been out on his evening walk and had been shocked when he'd heard Cerise talking to someone. What the hell was she doing this far from her corridor and damn it, what was it with his friends? First Remus revealed his involvement in The Veil with that damned note of his, which he still wasn't sure hadn't been done on purpose, and now Cerise was letting Harry know about the one boy-toy he'd ever allowed himself. He felt his mouth curl in an unexpected smile, wondering how Georg fared. He hadn't seen nor heard from the young man in almost a decade, although Severus always sent him a postcard at Christmas accompanied by a small purse of Galleons. Although he'd had no further relations with him, he'd made sure that sweet boy never went to Knockturn Alley when Cerise had died.
He somehow missed Harry's departure and he himself was about to turn and leave when she called out, "Severus Snape. Don't you dare leave this corridor without saying hello."
Sheepishly, he turned the corner and noticed immediately someone had moved her so that she was right in the middle of the corridor with a good view to either side. "I suppose you heard your lovely boy here, earlier?"
"Only the tail end of it, Cerise."
"I would not mind his tail end, Severus. He has grown beyond delicious, into serious, wet-my-drawers handsome. My, all that nice lean muscle--when DO you sleep?"
"Cerise, that is just so--well, it's not an image I can relate to, but if it makes you happy and keeps you amused--"
Changing the subject, she asked, "Tell me Severus, were you ever going to come down and talk to me about this--problem--with Harry?"
Severus shifted his feet and realising the incongruity of the situation in which he found himself, summoned a bench from behind him so he could at least be more comfortable. Once settled, he shook his head, saying, "No. I had not intended to 'come down' and tell you all about it."
Cerise harumphed. "I see. You were just going to leave me in the dark?"
"Actually, your corridor is quite well lit," he temporised.
She was upset with him. "Ah, and you intended me to find out from a bloody teenager? If I hadn't run into Arthur--"
Severus glanced to the side and spied Arthur in another frame, looking incredibly guilty and everywhere but at him. Severus glared at him.
Cerise saw where his gaze went and said to distract him, "Really, Severus! Where are your manners? Do you have any idea how unsettling it is to travel through the corridor with the ceiling at the floor and the floor over your head?"
Severus laughed at this and had this sudden picture in his head of her move. "So the house-elves carried you upside down, my dear?" he asked with saccharine sweetness.
"Gave me a bloody headrush, it did," she groused, glad she could get him back into a better humour.
They both chuckled and he knew without a doubt that avoiding her had been a bad idea. "Thank you, Cerise. Seems my avoidance of you qualifies as a bad mistake on my part. One of quite few, lately."
"Well, I needed a change of place and the house-elves were kind enough to oblige my request."
"You had them move you?"
"Yes, well--I had heard some disquieting rumours and cornered Merlin and Phineas one evening. They were most 'enlightening' as to what had happened, so I decided a little walk-about wouldn't hurt if I was ever going to get my hands on Harry; he would never have found me in my normal spot."
"Harry? Why would you--?"
"Yes, Severus. Harry. I was most upset with the drivel Albus and the others were filling his head with, allowing him to think he could get away with it. So we had a little 'talk'. I merely gave him my 'opinion' on the matter."
Severus winced. "And I am sure he was thrilled to receive it." He remembered her 'chats' with the women and men of her establishment and had blessed his good fortune he'd never been on the receiving end of them until much later in their relationship. But he'd learned from them as well; Cerise could be quite succinct with the way she chose her words with such obvious 'care'. And almost lethal.
She watched his face and knew the memories running through his head. She'd been most grateful after her death when he'd helped ensure her people had made it into good, clean establishments. She cleared her throat, drawing his attention. "You do know that for all his growing up, he is still just a boy in many ways. As are you, my friend."
He laughed mirthlessly. "I think I qualify for 'grown-up' by now, Cerise."
"Oh? And denying yourself even the simplest pleasure with Harry is 'adult'? Shunning him, avoiding him even as you did me? And you've already said that was a mistake." She smiled within at his grimace--her truth had hit the mark as she'd intended. She continued in the same gentle tone. "How do you expect to resolve this if you won't even talk about it with him, and failing that, taking what comfort you can from each other?" She was alarmed at the pain in his dark eyes. Oh, so expressive, if one knew them at all.
"I can't, Cerise. It hurts too much sometimes to be with him."
"Only sometimes? Well, there's some hope in that. It gets better with practice, Severus."
He was about to reply to the negative when he remembered the comfort of the other night. And in the morning. The slim hope he'd held onto and tried to convey to Harry with his inadequate note. He sagged into the bench, undone.
"How are you, really, dear heart?"
"I am tired, Cerise."
"I can see that. Tell me something I don't know."
"How is he, Cerise?"
"You don't--oh!" Without thinking, she had reached out her hand to touch him. But then she remembered and sighed, hanging her head. Without looking at him, she said, "He's fi--no, well--not rea--damn it! He's doing about as well as you are."
Severus stared at her. Cerise--without words?
Still staring at her lap, her fingers twisting with each other, she said wistfully, "Sometimes, Severus, all that holds our fractured pieces together is our ability to reach beyond ourselves, to touch the ones we love."
She raised her head and just watched him. The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours, although the moonlight on the wall showed it to be only a matter of a few minutes and still they stared--unmoving--just breathing. Every now and again, his eyes would close briefly and his head would lift as if he were sniffing the fresh breeze after a spring rain. Then he would open them and each time he was a little calmer, a little more relaxed, a little more himself.
Without warning, he stood and, with purpose, walked over to her portrait. Standing close, he drew his wand from his waistcoat and slid it in his sleeve with the tip against the base of his wrist. Softly he breathed a spell, complex and musical, one she'd never heard before. And while he chanted the repeating incantation, he raised his hands and smoothly slid them, fingertips first, into her painting to cover her hands on her lap.
She gasped when she looked down and saw their fingers entwined; she could feel them, they were real. He shifted and held them for a few moments, the thumbs tenderly rubbing the backs of her hands, while she gripped them hard, the solidness bringing her the sense of his life. She lowered her face to them and he reached up to cup her cheeks, the thumbs and fingers running softly over her face. She turned her head and kissed first one, then the other. Sweat broke out on his face, and he swayed with the effort to hold it. Although the tempo of the spell never changed, it kept getting softer, as if he were running out of air, until it ended and they stood, separate, on their respective sides of the portrait.
She drew a shuddering breath. "Severus, I--thank--"
"Shhh. It's all right, Cerise, I understand. He paused, choosing his words with care. "You are ever there for me, Cerise. You always have been. I--I just couldn't abide you looking as lonely as I feel. I needed it, too," he ended on a whisper.
With stiff nod and a whirl of black robes, he was gone, Arthur faithfully following at a respectful distance. And as she watched him stride down the hallway with almost the flair and speed of old, she blew him a kiss, touched her cheek, and smiled.
**** TBC ****