Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
A/N: This chapter gets its name from the poem "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening", by Robert Frost. Thanks for all the great reviews! They keep me motivated. Responses at the end of the chapter. --Piton
Chapter 4 - And Miles To Go Before I Sleep
Albus Dumbledore was intently focused on paperwork--one of the more banal realities of his post--when his office door blasted open. He continued to write, blissfully scrawling away on the parchment in front of him, paying no heed to the very indignant wizard that was now pacing furiously on the opposite side of his desk. Finally, his visitor could take it no longer.
"Damn it all, Albus, would you lay aside those bloody useless papers and stop pretending you haven't noticed my presence?" Snape exploded, striding over to the large desk and slamming his hands onto the shiny surface.
Albus calmly set down his quill and turned innocent blue eyes on his potions master. "Good afternoon, Severus, what a pleasure it is to see you. Would you like a lemon drop?"
Snape only barely managed to refrain from informing the Headmaster just what he could do with his lemon drops. Dragging in a huge lungful of air, he deliberately calmed himself before responding, "No thank you, Albus." He returned to his pacing. "I went back up to see Harry just now," he commented. "He had some very interesting things to say."
Needlessly shifting the parchment in front of him, Albus commented idly, "I always told you if you got to know the boy you would find him tolerable."
Snape rolled his eyes, otherwise ignoring the statement. "He did not take the news about the Finnegans very well." He pinned the older wizard with an intense glare. "He seems to be under the impression that he is to be, that he must be, the salvation of the wizarding world. At first I thought it was simply arrogance, but he has no confidence in his abilities. He's terrified of failure, but never even thinks that there are adults around to help him." His eyes bored into the other man. "In fact, he's convinced that the adults placed here for his protection are in fact under his protection. Where on earth could he have gotten any ideas like that, I wonder?"
Sighing heavily, Albus rose from his chair and quickly arranged for them to have tea. It wasn't until everything had arrived and the cups had been filled that he turned to Snape, merely inquiring, "Tea, Severus?"
Through gritted teeth, he managed to eke out the words, "Yes, please." Albus spent an inordinate amount of time fussing with the service, and finally the younger man cleared his throat impatiently. Albus studied the contents of his cup.
"Do you remember why exactly Voldemort had targeted the Potters?" he asked softly.
Severus blinked. "I wasn't aware there was a particular reason; I assumed they had been selected because of their success in fighting him and his followers." His brow furrowed as he added thoughtfully, "He was peculiarly eager, almost obsessed with their demise, really." His expression clearly said, 'Will you be coming to a point anytime in the near future?'
The Headmaster nodded solemnly. "There was a prophecy; the same one, in fact, that Voldemort was so intent to possess last year."
"I knew that had something to do with Potter," Snape muttered under his breath. Accusingly, he said, "You told me it was lost, smashed, that no one knew it."
Meeting his eyes, Albus said earnestly, "I couldn't risk giving you this information while you were working as a spy, Severus."
"That still leaves a twelve-year gap in which you had no reason to leave me in the dark, Albus," he heatedly argued.
Albus frowned sternly. "We both knew he would return. You know I couldn't risk it."
Feeling beaten, Severus slumped in his seat. "Well, I am a spy no more, sir, so now do you deem it prudent for me to know what exactly this prophecy contains?"
Fetching his pensieve, the old wizard extracted the relevant memory and set it to playing. Silence rang through the room as Sybill Trelawney's voice faded away. After a long pause, Snape stirred. "When did you tell the boy?"
"After the... events at the end of last year," Albus answered simply.
"You waited that long?" he asked incredulously.
"I rather imagined you would have told me not to tell him at all," the Headmaster retorted.
"I've always said the boy was a reckless, arrogant fool, but that's all the more reason he should have been informed! Perhaps the knowledge of the task that awaits him would have encouraged him to exercise more caution, to work harder at his schoolwork! You cannot declare a child capable of fighting basilisks, dementors, and the Ministry and then not trust him to know about his fate!" All of Harry's complaints about not receiving any information began to make disturbing sense. Severus jumped out of his chair, pacing, needing the movement to distract him from the confusion in his mind. Albus Dumbledore didn't make mistakes like this, and he trusted everyone, so what, precisely, was he missing here?
"I didn't want to place that on his shoulders," Dumbledore said almost meekly.
"You didn't mind placing the responsibility of facing down Quirrell, or a werewolf, or ensuring Sirius Black's escape on his shoulders--oh, don't give me that shocked look, I know what happened." He kept moving, his hair shielding his face as he averted the other wizard's gaze. He let out a scornful groan as everything became clear. "You wanted to condition him to play the hero before he knew. You wanted to make sure that child was bloody well convinced that it's his duty to run to the rescue every time there's danger so that in this situation, when the stakes were highest, he'd run out like some little trained monkey, possibly to die." Severus stood stock-still as he stared at his mentor. "You're playing him like a piano. You are that determined there will be no surprises."
"I was trying to protect him," Albus said miserably.
Severus closed his eyes. "No, Albus. I don't think you were," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He turned toward the door.
"Severus! Wait!" Albus exclaimed, springing out of his chair and laying a hand on his arm. The other man stiffened, but didn't pull away. "I was trying..." he murmured.
His black eyes were expressionless as he shook off the offending limb. "No, Albus, I don't think you were," he repeated gently. "Not in this." Without another word, he strode out of the office.
Albus moved wearily to his desk, sitting and placing a hand over his eyes. A moment later, he grasped another silver gadget that had survived Harry's wrath. The object appeared to be little more than a mirror, until the man angled it to face him and commanded, "Severus Snape!" His reflection blurred, morphing into an image of the potions master heading for the hospital wing. Smiling slightly, he set the looking glass to the side, whispering, "I can't change the past, Harry, but I can try to improve the future."
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Feeling utterly exhausted, and unsure of the reason, Harry forced his eyes to open, squinting at the bright light of the setting sun reflected off the dead white walls. Putting on his glasses, he couldn't help giving a small start as he noticed the dark figure in the corner. "Professor!" he exclaimed, trying to cover his weakness with words. "I didn't see you there. How long have I been sleeping?"
"Only a few hours," the man answered quietly, moving to stand by his bed. His eyes had a funny expression in them as he gazed down at Harry, one he couldn't understand. The older man shifted his weight before stating matter-of-factly, "I visited the Headmaster while you were sleeping." At Harry's blank stare he elaborated. "He told me about the prophecy."
"Ah," Harry said, staring at his hands. There was an uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry," he finally muttered, laying down and turning onto his side, facing away from the professor.
Snape frowned. "May I ask what exactly you are apologizing for?" he queried dryly.
Harry rolled onto his back. "The prophecy, or course," he said in surprise. "I don't imagine it made your day to realize that your fate depends on my actions." He was refusing to meet the man's eyes, and therefore missed the expression of complete astonishment that flitted across the angular features.
Reaching down, he gently seized Harry's chin and forced him to look him in the eye. After a second of study, he dropped his hand as if he had been burned. "You're serious," he said incredulously.
Harry gave him a look usually reserved for slow four-year-olds. "Yes, I'm serious," he bit out. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
"I just fail to understand how even you can think a prophecy made before you were even born is your fault."
The boy scowled. "Well, I was born, wasn't I?" he commented bitterly.
Snape pulled up a chair. "Merlin, boy! You cannot possible be that simple-minded!" he remarked.
Harry pulled away. "Yes, I can!" he roared.
Snape snorted. Harry looked up. That had almost sounded like... laughter. "You blaming yourself for having the gall to be born is like Miss Granger believing having Muggle parents make her less of a witch." Seeing Harry's eyes darken dangerously, he said icily, "Don't be ridiculous, boy, I don't feel that way. No one in their right mind would think that way, which was the point of my little allegory."
Harry considered that for a moment. "Oh..." he said softly. He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not an accurate comparison, sir," he commented.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "The fact that Hermione is a Muggleborn... People won't die because of that!" Seeing the look his teacher sent him, he muttered, "Okay, that might not always be true. But when Muggleborns are hurt, it's not their fault."
Snape studied him for a long moment. "You do realize your argument makes not the slightest drop of sense," he commented.
"A common state for me to find myself in, according to you," Harry returned.
By some tacit agreement, they changed the subject. "Did you have any more visions?" the professor inquired.
Harry shook his head, puffing out his cheeks in a disappointed sigh. "Just normal old nightmares," he complained. Seeing the older man draw breath to speak, he added, "Don't even start with Dreamless Sleep again! I'll be fine."
As soon as Harry stopped speaking, Snape cleared his throat dramatically and sneered, "As I was trying to say, if you can go this night without a vision, Madam Pomfrey will release you from the hospital wing in the morning. I rather thought that would be incentive enough for you to want the potion for this one night, at least. Once you leave this room, I promise, you can dream and scream to your heart's content."
Feeling slightly beleaguered, Harry yelled, "Fine, I'll take the bloody potion, will everyone just leave me alone, then?"
Snape held his gaze for an instant longer before looking away, moving to Madam Pomfrey's stores to locate the correct potion. Harry frowned; that moment before he'd turned away, the professor had looked almost hurt. 'Sure, Snape is feeling rejected by Harry Potter,' he thought sarcastically. 'Maybe I do need to get some normal sleep.' Out loud, he announced, "I need to use the loo." Ignoring the other man's sardonic gaze, he headed into the washroom. Thankfully, by the time he returned to his bed, he had the room to himself again. Smiling grimly, Harry grabbed the potion on his bedside table, hurried back to the washroom, and poured it down the sink, carefully running the water to rinse away any trace of his deception. Only then did he climb into bed.
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It was either very late that night, or extremely early the next morning, when Snape abruptly sat straight up in bed, heart pounding. His forehead tingled, his hands were clammy, and he felt an overwhelming sense of fear without any idea of the cause. Deciding he must have had some sort of dream, he threw on a robe and left to restlessly wander the corridors. It took about five minutes for him to realize that his wanderings weren't as random as he had believed; he had, in fact been heading directly for the hospital wing.
He scowled. 'Was the boy not clear enough this afternoon, Severus?' he berated himself. 'The last thing he wants or needs is to wake up in the middle of the night and find you there.' No matter what he told himself, he was unable to keep himself from checking in on the boy. He was almost there anyway.
He was reaching out to push open the door to the wing when he first heard the screams. They were hoarse and ragged, as if the screamer had worn out his vocal cords. Throwing open the door, Snape groaned as he caught sight of Harry flailing at the foot of the bed. Gliding quickly to the boy's bed, he grabbed Harry's shoulder and gave a gentle shake. "Harry! Wake up. Harry..."
At his touch the child relaxed slightly, allowing Snape to sit down beside him and pull him to his chest, forcing Harry to lie still. He fought Snape's hold, crying desperately as he struggled to break free. Snape moved one hand to the boy's head, tucking it under his chin as he fought to calm him. As the professor moved, his hand fell over the famous scar, and he couldn't prevent a gasp from escaping as his vision tunneled in and he fell, senseless, against the wall, his limp arms still encircling his son.
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Severus shook his head in confusion as he found himself standing in the middle of the street in a Muggle town. He jumped, drawing his wand, as he heard a shout from the house to his right. As he crept up to the door, he could hear at least two voices; a female screaming and a male cursing her. He hoped there was no one else in the house. As he reached for the doorknob, he felt a small hand stop him. "Your wand won't work here," he heard, "and you can't even touch anything."
Severus whirled around to face Harry Potter, looking considerably younger than his sixteen years as he stood there in his oversized hospital robe, tears running down his cheeks as he surveyed the desolate landscape. The former spy realized with a start that this house was not the only one under attack--so intent had he been on finding the source of those screams that he had tuned out the other cries and sobs from the neighboring houses, had ignored the dark marks further down the way.
"Thank you," Harry said softly, and Severus glanced at him blankly. "I don't know how you pulled me away from Voldemort, but I appreciate it." He was about to tell the boy to stop his incessant prattling, because only Merlin what he was speaking about, when the scenery suddenly blurred and he found himself standing beside the Dark Lord, watching impotently as he encouraged his minions to torture a child while the mother hysterically begged for mercy. He felt a tug on his wrist and Harry pulled him into the corner. "It's better not to watch," the boy said wisely.
They both stiffened as they heard Voldemort's high voice increase in volume. "What is the difficulty, Avery, this is just a small child!" Severus glanced around in time to see his former master shove the man who must be Avery to the floor, before turning his own wand on the baby. "Crucio," he said firmly, and Harry, Severus, and the child collapsed in pain.
He could feel Harry's hand still clutching his, squeezing his hand so tightly he felt bones grind together. Through the course of the curse he had remained silent, as was his wont, feeling a strange, strong protectiveness rising in him at the sound of Harry's screams. Finally, the curse eased, and he crawled over to the boy, gathering the shaking body into his arms. "I'm sorry, professor," he choked out. "I don't know how you got stuck here with me."
Severus shook his head. "It certainly wasn't through any action of yours," he said soothingly.
"But you got hurt, and I'm still glad you're here, and that makes me a terrible person," Harry whispered.
"Are you glad I'm here because you think I was hurt?" Severus asked calmly.
"No!" the boy exclaimed, staring up at him with glazed green eyes. "It's just nice... not to be all alone, for once," he said wistfully.
Before Severus could reply, the curse started again, and he tightened his hold on the boy, wishing he could protect him from the horror around them, realizing this particular boy had surely seen worse. He moved so his back was between Harry and the macabre scene behind them. As they gained another respite, Harry buried his face in the professor's robes, trying to hide the tears running down his face. "Sir?" he asked quietly. "How do you keep yourself from screaming?"
Severus frowned. "I... learned to be silent," he said flatly. "Don't be ashamed to scream, or cry, Harry," he added. "It's how you know you are still human."
Harry looked up at him. "You're still human sir," he firmly said. "If you weren't you wouldn't be helping me."
That seemed to be the cue for the next curse, then another, everything blurring together in a haze of pain and tears until the world went black.
A/N: Much will be explained in the next chapter, have no fear! Please review and let me know what you think--you don't know how much it helps! --Piton
Responses to Reviews:
Ravensblack, leggylover03, Lady Lily3, white-blaze-dragon, Zachiliam, GoddessMoonLady, Katrina Tonak: Thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so glad you like it so far!
SlythCat19: Hope this makes the forehead thing a little clearer. It will be explained much more in the next chapter. That chapter was a bit on the short side for me, but I'm usually between 2500-3500 words a chappie, so it won't usually be much longer. It takes too much time to upload then! I'm glad you still liked the chapter!
Makalani Astral, bluesparkle123: I'm glad you liked Harry's little rant! I had fun writing that part, and just imagining the look on Sevvie's face--you can be sure he's not happy when someone's talking about something he doesn't know about! I'm glad you liked the rest of the chapter, too!
Pearl of the Moon: Don't cry! Here you go!
Alleya: So, yeah, Severus has heard the prophecy now. I doubt Albus has heard the last from him on that, though... I'm glad this interests you!
snarkyroxy: I'm always glad to help strengthen someone's delusions! ;) Glad you liked the chapter.