The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter 14
Harry stopped a few feet away, wondering what to do. Snape wept quietly, the soft keening of a tired, lonely child. Harry swallowed. The sound spoke to him of a time before words, when memories were recorded as nothing more than the permutations of emotion. Inexpressible, almost irretrievable but always there, buried in his subconscious, of a time when he had reached out for the comfort of a parent and encountered nothing but the indifference of his aunt and uncle. The inner tranquillity that had accompanied him from the beach was still here, but now he found there were lines of ice reaching up through it, fracturing it.
'Don't cry,' he whispered. 'Please. Please stop it.'
He crouched down in front of Snape. The black hair shrouded his face as it always had; but in here it looked soft and silky. After a moment's hesitation, Harry reached out and brushed it aside. Snape's other hand was fastened over his face, and the tears slid through his fingers unabated as if Harry wasn't there.
Harry felt a peculiar sense of panic began to rise. He had to do something, anything, make him stop; but he didn't know how. In desperation he grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook him.
Snape's hands fell away from his face and hair. To Harry's astonishment, he no longer looked eighteen, but much, much younger. For one shocked moment Snape stopped crying – then he gave a wail and flung himself into Harry's arms.
Harry froze in consternation. The ice in his head was receding. He put his arms around the shaking body and squeezed; a surge of warmth and contentment swelled inside his mind. Snape pressed his cheek against Harry's shoulder and continued to cry, but the room no longer seemed as dark. Harry exhaled slowly with relief as the chill diminished, and let his head fall onto Snape's shoulder.
Moody resumed his work with more urgency, and by the time Snape's next infusion was due, he had succeeded in healing the shallower areas of damage on his back. The biggest challenge were the injuries between his shoulder blades, an area which on closer examination turned out to be virtually pulverised; he suspected that some areas of tissue would have to be excised altogether and re-grown. This was not beyond him, but it would mean consulting a few books if he was to get it right. Moody was very keen to get it right. A number of diverse theories were competing in his head; but the only way he was going to find out what Snape had been up to was to wake him up and ask him. Of getting answers at that point he foresaw no problems; a bottle of veritaserum with Snape's name on it had been safely tucked away in his trunk for almost a fortnight. But forcing him to wake up before he was ready could prove fatal.
Moody dressed the remaining injuries then allowed himself the indulgence of a few moments' pride in his work. By the end of the week, there would be only the faintest of scars to indicate those terrible wounds, and that was no mean feat. All the vital signs were strong as well, although there was a slight clamminess to the skin which was vaguely worrying. No matter. He gave Snape another vitalis infusion, then rolled him onto his back and tucked him up, feeling almost cheerful. He decided to spend the afternoon reading some relevant texts, then make a fresh start the following day.
He had just settled down on his own bed with a pile of books when there was a soft knock at the door. 'Come in?' he said.
Tonks and Lupin came in, and Moody softened as he saw the girl's nervous expression. 'Sorry if I was a bit short with you earlier, Tonks,' he said. 'Conversation downstairs got a bit heated.'
Tonks smiled. 'It's OK, Mad-Eye,' she replied. 'I think we're all feeling a bit emotional just now.' Her face clouded for a moment, and Moody felt a rush of sympathy.
'Professor Snape's going to be fine, love. Might be a while before he's capable of talking to anyone, but I promise you he's going to live.'
Tonks grinned, relief visible in her eyes. Lupin smiled and looked momentarily happier than Moody had seen him in a while. Interesting. Over the last year he had occasionally wondered why Lupin so resolutely refused to be put off by Snape's unequivocal unfriendliness. Shacklebolt's contribution to the previous night's meeting crossed his mind; Lupin and Snape had been at school together. Had they been friends once? If so, what had gone wrong?
'We wondered if you'd like something to eat?' said Lupin. 'Harry's still asleep, but we thought we'd have some lunch. Dumbledore and Aberforth have both left, although Aberforth said he'd come back tonight after he's closed the pub.'
Moody smiled. 'Sounds good. Snape should be fine by himself for half an hour or so.' He closed his book and turned to the empty frame on the wall. 'Phineas!' There was no answer. Moody frowned and got up, going over the portrait and rapping on the frame as he called again. After some minutes, Phineas Nigellus appeared, a bored frown on his aristocratic features. 'Yes?' he enquired acidly.
'Keep an eye on Snape for me,' said Moody. 'If there's any change, let me know, I'll be in the kitchen.'
Phineas Nigellus' face gave a contemptuous twitch, but he settled himself in his frame and said no more.
With a last look at Snape, Moody, Tonks and Lupin went out.
Harry could not recall any time in his life in which he had shared such an embrace with another human being. It was utterly unlike the time, only a little while ago, when he had been sobbing in Tonks' arms. That had been horrible: all his pain beating him down combined with a sickening sense of exposure in letting someone else see it happen. Of Tonks he had been almost unaware, his agony had so engulfed him.
This was different. Never before had Harry experienced the kind of peace he was feeling now. They rested silently in each others' arms, Harry gazing placidly out at the stars. The moon once more occupied a cloudless sky, and the planes of the roughly carven walls were soothed by its light. He hugged the child in his arms closer, and felt his own sense of being comforted increase. He stroked the long black hair and enjoyed a novel sense of protectiveness, of bringing comfort to someone weaker and more helpless than himself. He felt the joy rise with rough edges, bringing him to tears. He felt the child in his arms hug back, reaching slender arms around his waist, and he closed his eyes in bliss. The emotions rising in him now made him imagine that this was how it might have felt if his mother had held him, had he ever dared dream such a thing. He realised he never had. In the long years he had spent watching another child being lavished with the love he had been denied, he had never allowed himself to want, or to dream of what having might be like. He closed his eyes tight on sudden tears, but the pain was sweet.
He felt the warm body move against him as if to rise, and he tightened his grip with a slight whimper as he slipped against the silken fabric of Snape's robe. He pressed his face into the man's chest, felt strong arms supporting him, felt himself being lifted. He kept his eyes closed and imagined it was his father holding him, carrying him away from the window overlooking the universe and over to the rugs in front of the vast fire. He nestled in the lap of the man now sitting cross-legged at the hearth and holding him close; and the silky black hair fell around them both like a veil.
Then Harry gave a sigh and let himself gently slide out of Snape's embrace to sit opposite him in the deep fur of the hearthrug. He felt utterly calm; no longer filled with any kind of strong emotion, but simply complete and at peace. He looked up into the face of a young man who was only a year or two older than himself, but in whose eyes lay a depth of experience Harry had yet to know.
Snape bowed his head with a troubled expression, his arms resting on his knees and his narrow fingers pressed together so the long nails curved towards Harry. There was silence. Then Harry spoke.
'Dobby says he hasn't deserted you.'
The lines of Snape's face seemed to soften. Harry let his gaze fall to the rug. 'Why were you crying?' he whispered. 'I don't understand. If this place is place of solace'
'Our minds are joined by the charm. I am sharing your pain. You are sharing my peace. But the room in which we are now sitting isn't part of it,' Snape replied quietly. 'You are deeply asleep, and I am in a coma. We are sharing an illusion created as a by-product of the charm because – and only because – my soul is giving up its hold on my body. When I die, all this will disappear and you will be back inside your own head.
Harry gazed into space, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Why have you done this for me? I thought you hated me! I can't believe you're dying'
There was a silence in which Snape seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Then he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
'Occlumency – and all magic of its type – relies on the ability of the wizard to calm his mind utterly, for only then is he the true master of his power. Any emotion you cannot bring under your control will, at best, ruin your work. At worst, it will be used against you. Any strong emotion can be turned thus, but negative emotion is particularly dangerous, for when the mind is distressed, it is vulnerable and more easily attacked.
'You have discovered, as have all those beginning the study of Occlumency, that clearing your mind of emotion when you are preoccupied by questions and anxieties is extremely difficult. Most people circumvent this difficulty by invoking pleasant memories to comfort themselves into a state of calm. Once this is done successfully, it only requires practice to empty the mind completely.
'You believed I used the Occlumency lessons to make you suffer. This is not not true. I merely subjected you to the kind of attack you may expect from someone skilled in Legilimency; but I was examining your mind while doing so.'
Snape paused, biting his lip, and turned his face towards the fire.
'After a few lessons I realised you would be unable to master Occlumency sufficiently to keep out the Dark Lord. You have the magical ability, but you do not have the mental strength.'
'I'm not weak. You enjoyed making me suffer,' Harry stated blankly. 'You made me angry on purpose.'
'I believed you were like James,' Snape replied, and his voice suddenly sounded small. 'The first time I ever saw you, for a moment I thought you were James. And from then on, nothing in your behaviour suggested you were any less self-absorbed, any less arrogantly assured of your own rightness and superiority-'
'That's not true!' Harry replied, and felt a glimmer of heat. But only a glimmer. The charm absorbed his anger as it had taken his sorrow on the beach.
Snape turned back, but his eyes were downcast. 'I know.
'We all believed you would be safe. The Dark Lord had failed to kill you, when he had murdered so many others. What could possibly harm you after that? And what family would be anything but honoured to foster the Boy Who Lived?
'When you arrived, you were so self-contained. Just like James. Nothing I said to you seemed to make the slightest dent in that supreme self-assurance. No doubt you had been spoiled by doting foster parents; or so I thought.
'Then I saw your memories and saw what kind of life you had really lived. I had not realised until then that self-containment might be a defence against cruelty and neglect. I thought you ignored and flouted rules because, like your father, you saw no reason why they should apply to someone as uniquely wonderful as you. Instead I found you had been isolated and unloved, and you had instinctively defined the world around yourself because you had never been allowed another reference point.
'How could anyone with your experiences possibly hope to ward off mental attack? Your mind was already worn out with defending itself.'
Snape stopped abruptly, rubbing his hand across his brow before going on.
'So I created a charm to shield your mind from intrusion and help you find the peace you need. The connection between us is an interdependent one in which I share with you my peace and take away your pain.'
'I don't want you to take away my pain,' Harry said in a small voice. 'I don't want to forget Sirius or feel as if his death doesn't matter. The pain is unbearable, but it's mine. It's all I've got.'
'I know,' Snape replied quietly. 'The charm wasn't supposed to cut you off from your feelings, it was supposed to create a space in which you could confront and conquer them. As you were doing on the moor when the Dementors came.
'The balance between two minds is easily maintained while the wizard who cast the spell is mentally intact. But now the charm has become dangerously skewed and unstable; I cannot balance the effects and it is consuming me. My mind is incomplete, and I have no way to expiate the pain. Moody has ruined it all, and no matter how well my body may be recovering, if my mind continues to deteriorate, I will die.'
Harry stopped a few feet away, wondering what to do. Snape wept quietly, the soft keening of a tired, lonely child. Harry swallowed. The sound spoke to him of a time before words, when memories were recorded as nothing more than the permutations of emotion. Inexpressible, almost irretrievable but always there, buried in his subconscious, of a time when he had reached out for the comfort of a parent and encountered nothing but the indifference of his aunt and uncle. The inner tranquillity that had accompanied him from the beach was still here, but now he found there were lines of ice reaching up through it, fracturing it.
'Don't cry,' he whispered. 'Please. Please stop it.'
He crouched down in front of Snape. The black hair shrouded his face as it always had; but in here it looked soft and silky. After a moment's hesitation, Harry reached out and brushed it aside. Snape's other hand was fastened over his face, and the tears slid through his fingers unabated as if Harry wasn't there.
Harry felt a peculiar sense of panic began to rise. He had to do something, anything, make him stop; but he didn't know how. In desperation he grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook him.
Snape's hands fell away from his face and hair. To Harry's astonishment, he no longer looked eighteen, but much, much younger. For one shocked moment Snape stopped crying – then he gave a wail and flung himself into Harry's arms.
Harry froze in consternation. The ice in his head was receding. He put his arms around the shaking body and squeezed; a surge of warmth and contentment swelled inside his mind. Snape pressed his cheek against Harry's shoulder and continued to cry, but the room no longer seemed as dark. Harry exhaled slowly with relief as the chill diminished, and let his head fall onto Snape's shoulder.
Moody resumed his work with more urgency, and by the time Snape's next infusion was due, he had succeeded in healing the shallower areas of damage on his back. The biggest challenge were the injuries between his shoulder blades, an area which on closer examination turned out to be virtually pulverised; he suspected that some areas of tissue would have to be excised altogether and re-grown. This was not beyond him, but it would mean consulting a few books if he was to get it right. Moody was very keen to get it right. A number of diverse theories were competing in his head; but the only way he was going to find out what Snape had been up to was to wake him up and ask him. Of getting answers at that point he foresaw no problems; a bottle of veritaserum with Snape's name on it had been safely tucked away in his trunk for almost a fortnight. But forcing him to wake up before he was ready could prove fatal.
Moody dressed the remaining injuries then allowed himself the indulgence of a few moments' pride in his work. By the end of the week, there would be only the faintest of scars to indicate those terrible wounds, and that was no mean feat. All the vital signs were strong as well, although there was a slight clamminess to the skin which was vaguely worrying. No matter. He gave Snape another vitalis infusion, then rolled him onto his back and tucked him up, feeling almost cheerful. He decided to spend the afternoon reading some relevant texts, then make a fresh start the following day.
He had just settled down on his own bed with a pile of books when there was a soft knock at the door. 'Come in?' he said.
Tonks and Lupin came in, and Moody softened as he saw the girl's nervous expression. 'Sorry if I was a bit short with you earlier, Tonks,' he said. 'Conversation downstairs got a bit heated.'
Tonks smiled. 'It's OK, Mad-Eye,' she replied. 'I think we're all feeling a bit emotional just now.' Her face clouded for a moment, and Moody felt a rush of sympathy.
'Professor Snape's going to be fine, love. Might be a while before he's capable of talking to anyone, but I promise you he's going to live.'
Tonks grinned, relief visible in her eyes. Lupin smiled and looked momentarily happier than Moody had seen him in a while. Interesting. Over the last year he had occasionally wondered why Lupin so resolutely refused to be put off by Snape's unequivocal unfriendliness. Shacklebolt's contribution to the previous night's meeting crossed his mind; Lupin and Snape had been at school together. Had they been friends once? If so, what had gone wrong?
'We wondered if you'd like something to eat?' said Lupin. 'Harry's still asleep, but we thought we'd have some lunch. Dumbledore and Aberforth have both left, although Aberforth said he'd come back tonight after he's closed the pub.'
Moody smiled. 'Sounds good. Snape should be fine by himself for half an hour or so.' He closed his book and turned to the empty frame on the wall. 'Phineas!' There was no answer. Moody frowned and got up, going over the portrait and rapping on the frame as he called again. After some minutes, Phineas Nigellus appeared, a bored frown on his aristocratic features. 'Yes?' he enquired acidly.
'Keep an eye on Snape for me,' said Moody. 'If there's any change, let me know, I'll be in the kitchen.'
Phineas Nigellus' face gave a contemptuous twitch, but he settled himself in his frame and said no more.
With a last look at Snape, Moody, Tonks and Lupin went out.
Harry could not recall any time in his life in which he had shared such an embrace with another human being. It was utterly unlike the time, only a little while ago, when he had been sobbing in Tonks' arms. That had been horrible: all his pain beating him down combined with a sickening sense of exposure in letting someone else see it happen. Of Tonks he had been almost unaware, his agony had so engulfed him.
This was different. Never before had Harry experienced the kind of peace he was feeling now. They rested silently in each others' arms, Harry gazing placidly out at the stars. The moon once more occupied a cloudless sky, and the planes of the roughly carven walls were soothed by its light. He hugged the child in his arms closer, and felt his own sense of being comforted increase. He stroked the long black hair and enjoyed a novel sense of protectiveness, of bringing comfort to someone weaker and more helpless than himself. He felt the joy rise with rough edges, bringing him to tears. He felt the child in his arms hug back, reaching slender arms around his waist, and he closed his eyes in bliss. The emotions rising in him now made him imagine that this was how it might have felt if his mother had held him, had he ever dared dream such a thing. He realised he never had. In the long years he had spent watching another child being lavished with the love he had been denied, he had never allowed himself to want, or to dream of what having might be like. He closed his eyes tight on sudden tears, but the pain was sweet.
He felt the warm body move against him as if to rise, and he tightened his grip with a slight whimper as he slipped against the silken fabric of Snape's robe. He pressed his face into the man's chest, felt strong arms supporting him, felt himself being lifted. He kept his eyes closed and imagined it was his father holding him, carrying him away from the window overlooking the universe and over to the rugs in front of the vast fire. He nestled in the lap of the man now sitting cross-legged at the hearth and holding him close; and the silky black hair fell around them both like a veil.
Then Harry gave a sigh and let himself gently slide out of Snape's embrace to sit opposite him in the deep fur of the hearthrug. He felt utterly calm; no longer filled with any kind of strong emotion, but simply complete and at peace. He looked up into the face of a young man who was only a year or two older than himself, but in whose eyes lay a depth of experience Harry had yet to know.
Snape bowed his head with a troubled expression, his arms resting on his knees and his narrow fingers pressed together so the long nails curved towards Harry. There was silence. Then Harry spoke.
'Dobby says he hasn't deserted you.'
The lines of Snape's face seemed to soften. Harry let his gaze fall to the rug. 'Why were you crying?' he whispered. 'I don't understand. If this place is place of solace'
'Our minds are joined by the charm. I am sharing your pain. You are sharing my peace. But the room in which we are now sitting isn't part of it,' Snape replied quietly. 'You are deeply asleep, and I am in a coma. We are sharing an illusion created as a by-product of the charm because – and only because – my soul is giving up its hold on my body. When I die, all this will disappear and you will be back inside your own head.
Harry gazed into space, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Why have you done this for me? I thought you hated me! I can't believe you're dying'
There was a silence in which Snape seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Then he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
'Occlumency – and all magic of its type – relies on the ability of the wizard to calm his mind utterly, for only then is he the true master of his power. Any emotion you cannot bring under your control will, at best, ruin your work. At worst, it will be used against you. Any strong emotion can be turned thus, but negative emotion is particularly dangerous, for when the mind is distressed, it is vulnerable and more easily attacked.
'You have discovered, as have all those beginning the study of Occlumency, that clearing your mind of emotion when you are preoccupied by questions and anxieties is extremely difficult. Most people circumvent this difficulty by invoking pleasant memories to comfort themselves into a state of calm. Once this is done successfully, it only requires practice to empty the mind completely.
'You believed I used the Occlumency lessons to make you suffer. This is not not true. I merely subjected you to the kind of attack you may expect from someone skilled in Legilimency; but I was examining your mind while doing so.'
Snape paused, biting his lip, and turned his face towards the fire.
'After a few lessons I realised you would be unable to master Occlumency sufficiently to keep out the Dark Lord. You have the magical ability, but you do not have the mental strength.'
'I'm not weak. You enjoyed making me suffer,' Harry stated blankly. 'You made me angry on purpose.'
'I believed you were like James,' Snape replied, and his voice suddenly sounded small. 'The first time I ever saw you, for a moment I thought you were James. And from then on, nothing in your behaviour suggested you were any less self-absorbed, any less arrogantly assured of your own rightness and superiority-'
'That's not true!' Harry replied, and felt a glimmer of heat. But only a glimmer. The charm absorbed his anger as it had taken his sorrow on the beach.
Snape turned back, but his eyes were downcast. 'I know.
'We all believed you would be safe. The Dark Lord had failed to kill you, when he had murdered so many others. What could possibly harm you after that? And what family would be anything but honoured to foster the Boy Who Lived?
'When you arrived, you were so self-contained. Just like James. Nothing I said to you seemed to make the slightest dent in that supreme self-assurance. No doubt you had been spoiled by doting foster parents; or so I thought.
'Then I saw your memories and saw what kind of life you had really lived. I had not realised until then that self-containment might be a defence against cruelty and neglect. I thought you ignored and flouted rules because, like your father, you saw no reason why they should apply to someone as uniquely wonderful as you. Instead I found you had been isolated and unloved, and you had instinctively defined the world around yourself because you had never been allowed another reference point.
'How could anyone with your experiences possibly hope to ward off mental attack? Your mind was already worn out with defending itself.'
Snape stopped abruptly, rubbing his hand across his brow before going on.
'So I created a charm to shield your mind from intrusion and help you find the peace you need. The connection between us is an interdependent one in which I share with you my peace and take away your pain.'
'I don't want you to take away my pain,' Harry said in a small voice. 'I don't want to forget Sirius or feel as if his death doesn't matter. The pain is unbearable, but it's mine. It's all I've got.'
'I know,' Snape replied quietly. 'The charm wasn't supposed to cut you off from your feelings, it was supposed to create a space in which you could confront and conquer them. As you were doing on the moor when the Dementors came.
'The balance between two minds is easily maintained while the wizard who cast the spell is mentally intact. But now the charm has become dangerously skewed and unstable; I cannot balance the effects and it is consuming me. My mind is incomplete, and I have no way to expiate the pain. Moody has ruined it all, and no matter how well my body may be recovering, if my mind continues to deteriorate, I will die.'
Yay people! Thank you all LOTS & LOTS & LOTS for the reviews! My ego is feeling most well fed :>
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a bit of a pain to write, and I'm not sure I've quite included everything I wanted to - not sure it works completely. Reviews are always very welcome and greedily accepted, but I would really appreciate anyone's opinion on what they think is happening and what they think might happen next. I love writing mysteries, but sometimes what I think is a massive clue goes right over the readers' heads, and where I've thought I've been terribly clever and subtle, they've seen right through it.
Frogfoot24: It was actually a whole day later before I realised this is what you meant regarding the spy! I am so dim sometimes! But actually you're very close... ;> And thank you as ever for your detailed critique, very very valuable to an aspiring writer.
LinZE: Sorry! MM will make a reappearance in about three chapters' time... I've got a third story strand involving her, but it doesn't come in til a couple other things happen first.
purplemonkey: Yep, it is shorter than most of the others... it was just where the story seemed to break naturally.
Barbara Kennedy: Indeedy! But of course a wizard could also conjure a whip to hit him and just cower underneath it. Moody's working on this assumption, but just wanted to check a sudden thought.
And very best wishes to: ShrugDuckie, Matteic, Knitekatz, Angel 1291, fanfiction fanatic, Alynna Lis Eachann, ataraxis, Kateri1, Lilith11 and anyone else passing through :)