Chapter Three

A month passed, and neither of the two incidents between Severus and Harry were discussed by them. When they trained barely anything was said, and the potions class continued with a startlingly boring monotony. Harry had never thought that he would miss the snide remarks and intimidation, however now that there was nothing but a cold indifference he did.

Voldemort had begun attacking more openly – usually small muggle towns or villages that were home to a handful of wizards or the parents of muggle-borns. The Order of the Phoenix had originally tried to fight off Voldemort but had lost so many people that they had now changed tactics, focusing on warning or removing people from areas to be attacked (largely through Severus' efforts as a spy and Harry's dreams) and helping the few survivors Voldemort left to tell the tale.

There was an air of suppressed fear at Hogwarts, created by the growing trend of owls bearing black envelopes which would tell students in a sympathetically detached voice that their mother, father, sister, brother was dead and they were now wards of the country.

The teachers, sensing the growing fear within the student population, tried to balance it in different ways. Some took the view that more work would give the students less time to think about current events and as a result gave so much homework that, if circumstances were normal, would never have been able to be completed. Others decided that giving the students time to discuss and come to terms with what was happening was the best way to handle the situation and the levels of homework from these classes dropped to nearly nothing. There were only two teachers at Hogwarts that didn't follow either of these ideals and kept their teaching methods exactly the same – Professor Binns who, the students agreed, was completely oblivious to the fact that Voldemort was back at all – and Professor Snape.

For some students who, luckily, had mainly the sort of teachers that had cut back on homework the workload was lighter and gave them a lot more time for games of exploding snap. For the majority of students, however, they were getting the same amount of homework as usual but in the wrong areas or had so much it appeared that some were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

The situation came to a head one day in Advanced Potions class. A Slytherin girl that the Gryffindors could recognise by face but not by name failed to had in her potions homework. Severus had, surprisingly, not snapped at her or immediately assigned a detention but simply raised an eyebrow and asked her if there was a reason she hadn't completed it. The girl explained that she had been awake until three o'clock in the morning completing her Transfiguration and Arithmancy homework and had fallen asleep in the middle of her History of Magic homework before she could start her potions study. She then hiccuped once and burst into tears. Snape had studied her for a moment and then told her to go and get a calming potion from Madam Pomfrey. The lesson continued as if nothing had happened, but Harry could see that Severus was ready to blow.

Ten minutes into lunch Snape strode into the Great Hall, the girl from the potions class trailing behind him.

"Albus, I need to speak with you in private."

The Headmaster blinked at the Potions Master in surprise, teacup halfway to his mouth.

"Surely whatever you have to say can wait until lunch is over, Professor Snape?"

"No it can't, Headmaster. This problem should be dealt with as soon as possible, for the sake of our students."

Harry watched Dumbledore relax slightly and realised that he had thought Severus had been talking about a problem with Voldemort until he had mentioned the students.

"Well then, Professor, if it concerns the students I'm sure that whatever you need to say can be said here."

Harry watched with a mixture of mild amusement and apprehension as the Professor drew in a deep breath and a muscle began to twitch near his left temple.

"This year, Professor, Dumbledore, I am taking not the seven classes every other teacher in this school has, but ten as you feel smaller classes would be beneficial in potions. I am currently developing several potions at your request, as well as keeping the Hospital Wing adequately stocked of healing and calming potions which is quite a challenge really when you consider our current situation. On top of this I'm tutoring two dozen students, the majority of which because you believe they have a chance at passing if they have one-on-one sessions, and I do not need more students to tutor because the rest of your staff is either assigning too much homework or not enough! Get your faculty under control, Albus, or you may have to find yourself a new Potions teacher."

The last sentence was spat out before Severus turned and stalked out of the hall. There was silence for a moment and then a little shocked laughter from the students.

"Well, I believe that I shall have to call a staff meeting tonight. However, I do believe that there is only thirty minute until the next period, so I suggest we all eat up," Dumbledore said, eyes shining with an obvious mirth at Snape's chagrin.

* * *

"I'm not sure what was more shocking – Snape having a go at Dumbledore so publicly, or the fact that he was concerned about us in a roundabout 'it's really all about me' way," Ron remarked as he helped himself to a bun.

"Well," Hermione said, "whatever it was I'm relieved. The situation was getting rather ridiculous. I suppose Snape needed to find some way to get rid of some of his tension – he has seemed to be restraining himself around Harry lately, so he's probably been rather stressed."

Ron snorted. "I suppose it's better than Snape 'relieving tension' in other ways."

Harry, who had been taking a drink as Ron spoke, choked and began coughing, doubled over with his eyes wide.

"Ewww, Ron!" Hermione laughed as she patted Harry on the back. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Images," Harry offered between coughs.

Ron considered that for a moment before his eyes crossed and he turned slightly green. "Bloody hell, mate, I'm sorry."

Hermione mock-glared at Ron. "So you should be. Harry'll probably be scarred for life because of you."

Neither noticed the small blush colouring Harry's cheeks.

* * *

The Christmas holidays were approaching and a record number of students had put their names down to stay over the holidays. The teachers had long since returned to their normal amounts of homework, and the feeling of fear, whilst not completely gone, had abated somewhat. By now students were used to seeing the letters come in and were ready with hugs and words of comfort for those who received them.

Snow covered the Quidditch pitch and Ron and Hermione had become used to finding Harry with cheeks red from the wind, hair messier than usual flecked with white and lips blue from the cold. At first they had been concerned over the amount of time he spent out in the cold but he had simply shrugged and said that he didn't feel it. They had accepted his response without much question – after all, he hadn't gotten sick yet – and he had been free to continue his flying without intrusion. Harry had grown used to isolation over the past few years and had come to treasure his time alone.

Christmas day dawned crisp and clear, the sun shining brightly through its heat failed to really reach the earth. Breakfast was a cheerful affair for the students who had stayed behind until the owls arrived.

It has started with just one owl bearing a black envelope, not that unusual an occurrence by now. Another, however, joined it and another until there was a flock of around thirty birds bearing down on the students. They delivered their messages in the deathly silence that had covered the hall, and then left.

The shocked quiet was broken by the scream of a first year. The child had not even bothered to open the envelope and was clutching it to their chest, rocking back and forward as they wailed. Another voice was soon added to the sound, and it grew quickly into a horrible mish-mash of denial, mourning and the detached sound of the messages.

"We are sorry to inform…"

"…father and brother both killed…"

"…probably painless…"
"…during an attack on Diagon Alley and other wizarding towns…"

"…details of their deaths are yet to be disclosed…"

Professor Dumbledore was calling for calm but for once his voice became lost in the sounds of fear rising from the students. Harry, unsure of how to help the situation, fled the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry had retreated to the West Tower Courtyard, and was curled up on one of the benches, staring off and out into space when Severus found him as the day neared it's end. He had a bottle resting beside him, one that Severus recognised as the one containing the second potion he had sent Harry. It was empty.

"There wasn't even enough left for the recommended dosage, so you don't have to worry," Harry said quietly. Severus ignored him and sat down on the other bench across from Harry.

"It's strange. I know that some part of me is feeling because I can feel me feeling it, but I'm not really feeling what it is I'm feeling. It's there, but I'm not really connected to it. I just kind of am aware that it's happening."

"The potion, in its correct dosage, is designed to produce a feeling of true and complete apathy for a period of nine hours. What you are experiencing is to be expected when the dosage taken is smaller than required."

" I didn't know what to do," Harry admitted, resting his chin on his knees. "When Cedric died I was sort of told 'you did your best' and patted on the back a bit then left to deal on my own over the holidays. When Sirius died I was so angry, and everyone said 'it wasn't your fault' and then sent me back to the muggles to handle it on my own again. I don't understand how to help them because there was no one to help me, and when there was I didn't want it."

"That's okay. The best thing you can do is be sympathetic but not pitying, and act normally around them."

"Do you know what scares me the most? They're all relying on me to beat him, but I'm going to fail and then they'll all be so surprised that I lost when it's really clear who will win in the first place. He has much more experience and power, and who knows how many supporters. I'm just a teenager who had had a good run of luck but that'll end eventually, and then what? They all think I'm so wonderful for 'defeating' him before but I can't even remember how I did it, and I didn't even do it properly then."

Severus was surprised at Harry's statement, to say the least – he knew that Harry would have doubted his ability to beat Voldemort more than once, it was only natural, but he hadn't expected such frank acceptance of what Harry obviously viewed as a fact.

"You give them hope," he offered eventually.

Harry looked at him, eyes weary and jaded. "Take away hope and you are left with despair. It would be better to never experience that hope in the first place, because there would never be that awareness that it's gone."

"A life without hope – nothing to continue for – is not a life at all."

Harry shrugged and tightened his arms around himself.

"I have never," Snape said carefully, "been a firm believer in the literal truths of prophecies. In fact the few I have come across have been a lot more figurative than literal, and Sybill has always been one for flowery turns of phrases."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, curious despite himself.

"While Dumbledore and the others believe you have to kill the Dark Lord, I am of the opinion that you will simply provide the means, not the act itself. Furthermore, even if you do take the prophecy in it's literal sense that does not mean there will be a battle between you and him and all. Someone else – Dumbledore, for example – may severely incapacitate him in which case it may be as simple as a knife across the throat for you."

Harry laughed. "You're trying to provide me with the same hope I give them."

"Did it work?"

"Perhaps a little, but I'll question your theory soon enough and then I'll be back where I started."

"If it helps, why bother questioning it until necessary?"

Harry was quiet for a moment. "What will happen now? With the Order do anything in response?"

"This has not yet been told to the other students, so I am trusting you to use some discretion in this matter."

Harry nodded and shifted to face Severus.

"As of the end of this week, Hogwarts will close as a school."

Harry paled. "I'll have to go back to the Dursley's?"

Severus shook his head. "Your training is too important. Hogwarts will become a refuge for those in danger. Classes will be discontinued, but the students are welcome to stay for voluntary lessons."

"Oh. I see."

"I have noticed that in the past months you have been avoiding your friends as much as possible without offending them. May I ask why?"

"Because they don't really understand me as I am now. I love them, I really do, but I've come to hate it when they ask me what is wrong. I can tell them, and maybe they understand why I'm upset, but they won't just let me deal. They're always there telling me to be happy; to smile and I can't. I can't just change how I'm feeling to make them happy, and I hate that they expect me to. They won't give me the time to be angry or sad or frustrated, and I can't stand it anymore."

"And yet you speak to me."

"You don't force me to be something I'm not. You don't tell me I shouldn't be feeling like this, you just help me understand why it is that I am."

There was something in Harry's face that made Severus wary; something hidden behind the shutters of his eyes and Severus found himself wondering what it was he would find if those shutters ever opened. For some reason his memory flicked back to the look on Harry's face and, more importantly, in his eyes in the seconds before he had kissed him. Then Harry looked down again, and the moment was lost. Severus was not sure whether he should regret the fact or be glad of it.

"I feel," Harry said in a low voice, "like I might turn into smoke one day and just kind of drift away."

"Like a boat that's slipped it's moorings?"

Harry nodded. "Like I have no anchor," he whispered.

"Why?"

Harry licked his lips. "When he tried to kill me the first time, when he got my parents, he tied himself to me to keep himself alive. He deepened that tie during the Triwizard tournament, but I have never tied myself to him. I hold nothing of his that binds me to him, only the scar and the echo of his powers that binds him to me. He, however, owes his body – his continued existence – to me. He shares my blood but I do not share his." Harry glanced up again, and the darkness in his eyes terrified Severus. "Sometimes I wonder….if he needed me to survive, does he still need me? If that is true, than not even the need to defeat him ties me down. If it is too much, if I cannot beat him by fighting him, I could always beat him by helping him."

"You haven't –"

"No, I haven't." Voice still low, and a hand that gripped so tightly around his wrist that the knuckles were turning white. "The option is still there, though, and I cannot forget about it. It would save so many people, so many lives…and what do I have to lost but a life that seems so empty?"

"You need something to hold onto then."

Harry smiled a little sadly. "There is nothing –"

"I will be your anchor."

Harry gaped for a moment, and then scowled. "I will not accept your pity, Snape. You could gain nothing from it."

The idea had already formed in Severus' head, however, and he continued speaking as if Harry hadn't said anything. "It would mean there would be someone watching and guarding you a lot more often with a feasible excuse, and Voldemort would be happy because I would have 'gotten closer' to you. I would be able to spend more time training you without an excuse apart from concern, and the Dark Lord would believe I was undermining your skills as a duellist. No one would be able to comment on the attachment since I would no longer me your teacher as the school would technically be closed. It's almost flawless."

"So you'll just put up with me then? You'd have to give your whole life and even your body to carry out the idea – people would never believe we were together unless there was some sort of a physical display of your 'feelings'."

Severus waved a hand in dismissal. "They would be expecting nothing more than a few kisses, some hand-holding and hugging. I have given a lot more in my service as a spy."

Harry stared at him, face pale, and Severus realised what he had practically admitted to. "You will not tell Dumbledore I said that. If he were to even suspect such a thing he would not let me return to them, and the information I provide him is far too valuable to be stopped for something so small."

Harry shook his head, visibly upset, and Severus guessed that the potion had worn off. "I can't let you make such a sacrifice."

"There was nothing about you letting me mentioned at all, Mr Potter," Severus said. "However, it is late and after today's events you should be sleeping. We will continue this tomorrow."

Severus walked with Harry to the main hallway of the floor, where they parted company. As Harry walked away, Severus felt the need to say one thing more.

"Oh, and Mr Potter?"

Harry half-turned, his head twisted back to look over his shoulder.

"I do not believe that I ever referred to what we discussed as a sacrifice. Perhaps that would be because I do not regard it as such."

With that and a smirk Severus returned to his dungeon rooms, surprised but not displeased with the night's events.