Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 10

oOo

Harry spent the morning with his friends, but his mind was elsewhere.

He couldn't help but wonder—if he hadn't had Snape insisting it was Voldemort and giving him something in the physical world to hope for, how would he have taken that last dream? How would he have reacted to the suggestion?

He didn't want to examine it too closely. But he strongly suspected that Snape had saved his life. Again.

His prior feelings for Snape were still a part of him. He wasn't sure he'd ever really, fully forgive the man. But somewhere along the way, he had started to trust him. Coming out of the passageway to see him, even as angry as the Potions Master had been, had given him a sense of security.

After that realization, he'd finally calmed down and taken an objective look at this thing with Snape. Harry's error, the reason he'd gotten so angry, was in letting his emotions get the best of him. He'd been so vulnerable that he'd been reaching blindly for an attachment, and that desire had come up against a brick wall in the form of all his issues with Snape and all of Snape's issues with him. He realized now that he had been testing it, purposely being difficult because he expected it would crumble with a little prodding. Then, when they'd degenerated into the fight, he'd been terribly upset about being right.

And yet, Snape had still come looking for him. He'd figured out where to find him. And the thought that he would do so had been a surprising comfort to Harry.

While it was entirely possible that Snape still didn't like him much, the man was willing to be civil—most of the time—and to help him get through this. Maybe that was enough.

So that afternoon after classes found him up in his Gryffindor dorm, packing his things. Not everything of course, he still intended to visit often and eventually come back to stay. But for the time being, he needed Snape's help. He needed to stay with his Professor. And he couldn't keep coming every day to restock his clothing supply.

Ron had offered to help. But he was doing less helping and more brooding, studying Harry in a way that was making him uneasy. Finally he sighed, dropped the sweater he was folding onto the bed, and looked at his friend. "What is it, Ron?"

"I've been thinking…"

"Uh oh," Harry said with a slight smile, half-teasing and half-wary.

The redhead sighed. "It's Snape, Harry," he said, as if that explained everything. When Harry merely raised an eyebrow he continued, "After everything we've been through with him, and everything we know, do you really trust him?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and broke eye contact. "I don't know," he confessed. "But he's different lately."

"Really? No one else has noticed."

"He's different with me," Harry clarified, surprised to find that he felt a bit defensive, and surprised by his reluctance to add truthfully, "Most of the time, anyway."

"And—don't take this the wrong way, but doesn't that seem a bit odd to you? I mean, doesn't this whole situation feel weird?"

"Ron, my life is an exhibit of weird. It always has been."

"I know, I just…look, you said yourself that it seemed a bit clumsy, for You-Know-Who to try to force the issue like that."

Harry frowned at him, wondering where this was going. It was true; once he'd gotten past the shock, he had thought that this last dream had been a little abrupt. The buildup had been slow and subtle and then he had been slammed with the blatant suicide suggestion. Snape had told him that it was likely Voldemort had been trying to access his mind for the last few days, but had been unable to do so due to the Occlusion. So when he had gotten access again, he had just gone for broke.

That had made sense to Harry, and he reminded Ron of it now.

"Snape told you," Ron muttered in response.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well what do you think is going on then?"

"I know Dumbledore's positive that he is working for us, but…what if he's wrong, Harry? What if Snape's real loyalties lie with You-Know-Who? And what if…what if he didn't really want you to kill yourself? What if this is exactly what he wanted; to push you closer to Snape?"

Harry stared at him, and felt a rush of cold go through his stomach.

Ron continued, "Because if that was the case, Snape would have to be acting a little different, a little nicer to you to draw you in…"

Even as Harry shook his head in denial, he sat down hard on the bed. They sat in silence for a moment before he shook his head dazedly and said, "We've always been quick to doubt Snape. And we've always been wrong."

"Maybe, but think about it. The dreams make you realize there's something you really want, but you can't have it. Then, all of a sudden, it's being offered to you. I just think that you shouldn't be so quick to trust him. You should at least be sure of his loyalties first."

"Then what do I do, Ron? Please, tell me what to do." He'd meant it to sound sarcastic, but somehow desperation had dominated his tone.

Ron tilted his head. "I suppose just asking him wouldn't be worth much," he said sarcastically.

Harry stared at him. "Probably not."

"Harry…you weren't really getting close to him, were you?"

Harry glanced away, and refused to answer. Really, hadn't he just been thinking about this? He thought he'd detached himself. Apparently that hadn't worked as well as he'd thought.

The lack of response was a louder answer than anything he could have said. Ron winced slightly, but got up and came around to sit down next to Harry. "As I understand it, this is about family…right? About having someone care for you?"

Harry shrugged, equally uncomfortable, but nodded. "That's what the dreams were about, yeah." After a pause he added in a mumble, "Some deep-seated need that I hadn't fully realized, and yet was blatantly obvious to Voldemort."

Ron was getting better about the cringing that went along with the name, but it was still noticeable. Nevertheless, he pushed past it easily enough. "Well…you know my family loves you, right? You know Mum would adopt you if she could. We might have to die your hair red, but..." he trailed off, a small smile gracing his face.

Harry tried to return it, he really did. But he didn't think he'd managed. He didn't want to hurt his friend, but as this seemed like an honest conversation he decided he had best try for the truth. "Thanks, Ron. You know I love your family, but…it's just not the same," he finished in a whisper.

Ron bristled visibly, and Harry knew that he had hurt him despite his intentions. And he knew Ron would take it personally. "I know it's not like having your parents, but c'mon, Harry. You prefer Snape? You can't possibly believe that he could ever give you anything you need," he said scornfully.

Harry stood from the bed, feeling a bit of anger begin to bubble. "I need to keep Voldemort out of my head. He's giving me that," he snapped.

"Even if he is, it won't matter much if he's tricking you into trusting him! He can just hand you over!" Ron was waving his hands wildly, trying to emphasize his point.

Harry's stomach began to churn along with his thoughts. He tried to fight back the panicky feeling, grasping for reason. "But none of this was Snape's idea. I heard them talking in the hospital wing—he didn't even want to do it. I'm pretty sure Dumbledore made him."

"Dumbledore's a great wizard and everything, but he's very old and he has moments when he's wrong about you, and he seems to have a big blind spot when it comes to Snape!"

That was perhaps true, and Harry had thought each of those things himself more than once, but somehow hearing Ron say them in the heat of anger only served to upset him more. Half of him wanted to defend Dumbledore, the other half wanted to defend Snape, and he somehow couldn't find the words to do either. Instead he ended up snapping, "This isn't even your business!"

There was an instant when the expression on Ron's face told him that it had stung. But then the anger was back. "What are you mad at me for?" Ron yelled, raising his voice to match Harry's.

'Because you're suggesting that Snape's evil and no one cares about me without an ulterior motive,' his mind supplied. But on some level he knew that was a bit skewed, and so he didn't say it. "I don't know!" he yelled back instead.

Then they stared at each other, each breathing a bit harder than normal, a myriad of emotions crossing their faces.

"I've got to go. Snape's expecting me for Occlumency," Harry finally said quietly, his words clipped.

He stepped closer, intending to grab his bag. Ron was between him and it. They had a moment of stalemate, in which Harry glared as hard as he was being glared at.

Finally, Ron rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated huff before he moved aside. Harry grabbed the bag and turned to stalk out the door.

Then Ron went and ruined his dramatic exit. "Harry!" Reluctantly, Harry paused and looked back at him.

Ron sighed, held out his hands helplessly, but didn't apologize. "Just please be careful, all right?" Unspoken went the simple but pointed phrase: 'Don't trust him.'

Harry found a sudden lump in his throat. He nodded curtly, then left without a word.

oOo

Harry was paying little attention to his surroundings as he wandered down into the dungeons with his bag slung over his shoulder. He was taking his time, stalling really, as he dwelled on his conversation with Ron.

The further he got from the tower, the more the anger faded and allowed his awakened doubts about Snape to take over. Because really, Ron had been making an uncomfortable amount of sense. He knew that he needed to squelch these doubts, one way or the other. He needed a plan.

They were supposed to have an Occlumency session tonight. Last year, he had accidentally accessed Snape's memories through their link when he cast a shielding charm. He would simply have to do it on purpose this time. And if he could direct his own memories, he might be able to lead Snape's train of thought.

So intent was he on plotting and worrying that he wasn't watching where he was going. He rounded a corner and almost ran smack into Draco Malfoy.

"Potter? What are you doing down here?" He looked at the bag, which Harry self-consciously shifted until it was mostly hidden behind his back. "Moving out? Have you come to say goodbye?" the blonde asked with a smirk.

It was rare that Harry didn't have some kind of comeback with Draco. But at that moment, he could not come up with any good excuse for why he was heading towards Snape's quarters with a bag of clothes in hand.

Luckily, they were interrupted by approaching footsteps. "Mr. Malfoy, you left your textbook…" Snape paused as he came upon them, dark eyes shifting between them. "Mr. Potter," he said warily.

"I think Potter's decided to move in with your stock of snake eyes and toad tongues, Professor. He needs some new friends."

Harry found his voice then. "Actually, you couldn't pay me enough to join Slytherin, but thanks for the suggestion Malfoy," he shot back coolly.

Draco's eyes flashed, almost certainly a prelude to something nasty, but Snape interrupted. "Actually, Mr. Potter has legitimate business here. His ineptitude in our extra Potions sessions led to an unfortunate incident with our robes and a purplish substance. He, of course, had to clean them—the Muggle way."

Laundry? Harry raised an eyebrow, certain that even his over-occupied mind could have come up with something better than that.

But it belittled him, so Malfoy was happy to buy it. He was smirking like Christmas had come early.

"Come, Mr. Potter. You may bring it to my quarters."

As Snape walked away, Draco leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Really, Potter. NEWT level, and still needing remedial potions? Guess it's a good thing you're Dumbledore's pet. He must order the professors to be extra lenient with you."

That hit a little close to home, and Harry scowled. "And what are you doing here?" He motioned to the textbook. "Not cheating, are we? Getting undue help? If I'm Dumbledore's favorite, then Snape…" He trailed off, realizing that he didn't really want to point that out.

Once again, Snape rescued him with a perturbed, "Potter!" from down the hallway.

With one last sneer, Draco pushed past him. Harry spent a moment looking after him. Malfoy might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he wasn't an idiot either. If he spent enough time with Snape—and it seemed that he did—he was eventually going to notice that something was going on.

This was too many things to worry about at once. Deciding that Malfoy didn't take precedence, he turned back to Snape and closed the distance between them. "Laundry?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well I did not see you getting yourself out of the situation," Snape huffed indignantly.

It was really rather amusing, and Harry fought the urge to smile.

Snape drew himself up to his full height, trying to regain his dignity. "Come, Mr. Potter. Let us get the Occlumency session over with before dinner."

Harry's brief lightheartedness vanished with that. He followed Snape to his quarters and took his bag to the spare room. There, he slung it onto the bed and then paused for a moment, leaning against the desk. He closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to do.

"Something is wrong?"

Harry jumped, spinning to see that Snape had come to stand just inside the doorway. "Er…no. I'm fine."

"You will meet me in my office, then?"

Harry made an attempt at a smile. "Sure. I'll be right there."

Snape was still eying him a bit warily, but he turned to go.

After a moment—an awful moment in which he realized how much he appreciated that subtle show of concern and wondered if it was at all real—Harry followed.

Snape was organizing papers on his desk when Harry arrived. He glanced up, then laid a stack to the side and came around to meet him as he pulled out his wand. "Ready?"

Harry took a deep breath, and then reluctantly nodded.

"Legilimens."

He'd grown quite accustomed to blocking Snape from random access to his memories. But this time, he had to let him in. It was disconcerting, and at first he didn't have any control. His memories reeled…

…he and Hermione stood before the Whomping Willow, watching helplessly as Ron was dragged through the small opening and his leg broke with a sickening crack…

…he was in a little shack, trying to sleep on the floor. Hagrid came bursting in, and then he was hearing about the magical world for the first time and learning the first truths about who his parents had been…

…he was eight, and sick. He had a fever that had made him dizzy, and he'd been shivering so badly that he'd dropped the pan full of bacon on the floor. His uncle had yelled and given him a good, hard slap before locking him in his cupboard…

He sensed it as Snape actually pulled back a bit at that memory. Regaining some sense of where he was, Harry struggled to direct the next one…

…Harry turned from Bellatrix with dread, and caught sight of him. Tall, thin, and black-hooded…terrible snake-like face barely visible…pure hatred in the red eyes. Harry couldn't move as the wand was pointed at him. He could do nothing as the killing curse was cast, and the statue barely stepped in front of him in time…

And that would do. With no small amount of effort, Harry pulled his consciousness back to the present, until he could see Snape standing before him as well as the remnants of the memory as Dumbledore appeared. He shook off the fear the scene had brought back to the surface, then he raised his own wand. "Protego!"

And, just as last time, Snape's wand flew from his hand, and Harry was plunged into a memory that was decidedly not his.

It was a different setting, but the dark, towering figure was the same. He stood in the middle of a shadowy room. Though it was difficult to see, Harry recognized Professor Snape as he approached and bowed before him.

"Severus, I anxiously await your report," the serpentine voice hissed.

Harry stiffened as he realized what he was watching.

"I fear things are getting better, my lord. He still mourns for Black, but he seems to have escaped the depression. He is more content and has regained much of that arrogant self-confidence. I suppose the resumed Quidditch practices and his Gryffindor friends have something to do with it," Snape responded with a sneer.

Scarlet eyes narrowed into slits. "You have no more than that to tell me?"

"This is all observation of course; I do not get close to the boy other than for our remedial sessions. He is still as abominable as ever with potions." His voice was calm and casual, as if he were merely chatting with a friend. But there was a hint of a resigned look on his face. "I'm afraid there's nothing more to tell at the moment."

"Severus, you disappoint me."

"I am sorry, my lord."

"Sorry…yes, I expect you are." Long, grayish fingers reached out to caress the man's cheek in a deceptively gentle manner. Then they were withdrawn, and the wand was produced. "Crucio."

Snape collapsed to the ground, limbs curling in on themselves in a way all too familiar to Harry. He knew the curse was excruciating. But Snape kept consciousness, and he didn't even cry out, though pain was evident on his face. He gave off the definite impression of a man who had dealt with the curse before—more than once.

When the pain eased off, Voldemort slunk closer and knelt beside him. "You will try harder for me now, will you not?"

Snape looked up, expression perfectly schooled once more. "Yes, my lord."

Harry forcefully pulled back. When the connection was severed he fell to his knees gasping, feeling sick.

The silence was deafening. When he was able to look up, the state the Potions Master was in made his heart stumble. Snape was holding onto the edge of the desk for support, his face even paler than normal and his breathing ragged.

"I'm sorry," Harry choked out. "I didn't—" he cut himself off mid-sentence. He'd been about to claim that he hadn't meant to do it, but it would be obvious to Snape that that wasn't true. "I'm sorry," he said again, lamely.

With a bit of effort, Snape composed himself. He stood stiffly by the desk, as Harry made no effort whatsoever to get up. He remained on his knees, staring up at his Professor.

"You do not trust me," Snape finally stated. "It is…understandable."

Harry might have imagined it, or there might have been a bit of hurt in the tone. He bit his lip and looked down, unable to meet Snape's gaze.

"I think that is enough for one night. You are obviously developing defensive abilities. You should get to the Great Hall for supper. I will see you in our quarters later."

Our quarters? Harry's head snapped up at that, but Snape had already turned his attention away, pointedly dismissing him. He probably didn't even realize what he had said; Harry could tell that he had rattled the man.

There was little point in trying to talk to an upset Snape. Besides, Harry had no idea what to say at that moment. So he climbed slowly to his feet and left the office, his emotions in a turmoil of their own.

oOo

tbc