Surreality
By Perse
Chapter 12
oOo
He felt the jolt of immense pleasure first, before the scene really came into focus. When it did, he was walking down a narrow hallway, towards a large, open doorway at the end…there were footsteps behind him, matching his…
…They stepped through the opening, into what looked like a large family room…the bodies were lined up on the floor: clearly a mother and father, along with two little boys and a very young girl…
…His newest recruits stood to the side, awaiting his reaction…He gave them a nod, cold lips turning up slightly, letting them know he was quite satisfied indeed…
"It was a productive night. I knew you would be pleased, Master."
…He turned, gave a cursory glance to the dark-haired woman, then offered her a smile born of that pleasure and a certain pride in one of his most loyal servants…
"You have done well, Bella. Well indeed."
…She beamed, offering him a beautiful if sadistic smile…he turned back to look at the bodies, nodding appreciatively…he felt a strengthened security in his anticipation…though this had not required fighting skills, it had taught them not to abide mercy…they would be part of his army soon, his growing army…he could practically taste the coming bloodshed…and the power…
Harry came back to consciousness with a violent start. He opened his eyes, squinting into the dim light of the dungeon, easily identifying the form in front of him. His head hurt; a disorienting mixture of the pain of impact on the back and the burning of his scar in front.
"Mr. Potter," Snape said in way of greeting, his tone ambiguous.
Harry met his Professor's eyes for a moment before he squeezed his own shut once more. He drew in deep breaths through his nose, fighting nausea—and not entirely due to the splitting headache.
The bodies, the children…that was enough to turn his stomach. But with Bellatrix on top of it, it was near impossible for him to keep his so-enjoyed breakfast down. There were very few people that Harry would profess to hate. But Bellatrix LeStrange was one of them.
The emotions from the vision revolted him.
"Potter?" There was a hand on his shoulder now.
He swallowed a few times before he risked opening his eyes. Absently, he raised a hand to rub at his searing forehead.
Snape's features shifted ever so slightly. And Harry could tell, from that one slight gesture, that Snape had realized exactly what had just happened.
Still, Harry watched him easily fall back into his typical persona for benefit of their audience. "I warned you, did I not? The potion is volatile, and carelessness could have cost you much more that your already low grade, Mr. Potter." He paused, holding Harry's gaze before adding, "It looks as if I will be seeing you in detention yet again."
Harry easily caught the reference from their breakfast conversation. It calmed him somewhat. He brought probing fingers up to the back of his aching head, and was a bit surprised when they came away without blood. Apparently, it only felt as if he'd cracked his skull open.
Snape turned slightly to address someone right behind him, and Harry finally noticed that Ron was looking anxiously over Snape's shoulder. "Mr. Weasley, help him to my office. We should let Madame Pomfrey make certain he has not done any permanent damage."
With that Snape grabbed an arm and hefted him to his feet. The grip was tight, the handling a bit rough, and Harry suspected there had been at least a bit of real anger in Snape's harsh words. Ron quickly took him, protectively, glaring daggers at the Potions Master.
Blessedly, Snape ignored him and turned to shoo the rest of the class back to their potions.
Harry noted all of this absently. The pain and the remnants of the vision occupied most of his attention. With his right hand he latched onto the back of Ron's shirt and let his friend guide him out of the classroom and into Snape's office.
"Hermione went to get Madame Pomfrey," Ron said quietly as he paused to close the door.
Harry acknowledged it with a vague, "Hmm," as Ron led him to the chair in front of Snape's desk and sat him down.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut once again, hoping to steady the swaying room. When he opened them Ron was crouched before him, looking up at him anxiously. "Are you all right?"
For the moment at least, it was as if they hadn't fought at all. Harry could see Ron's intense concern. "I think so," he responded. "Did you manage to get out of the way, then?"
"I ducked under the table," Ron confessed. "It was a short blast, fairly controlled. You're the only one who really got hit. Snape was pretty mad that we'd messed up the potion."
Harry was pretty sure that that wasn't why Snape was mad, but he wasn't up to arguing the point. He raised his hand once more, rubbing hard to counter the pain of his scar.
Suddenly, he froze in the movement. And, for the moment at least, he forgot all about Bellatrix and those innocent children.
"My scar…"
"What?" Ron asked, gently prying his fingers away and pressing the back of his own hand to Harry's forehead. His touch was cool, and Harry leaned into it gratefully.
"My scar hurts," he repeated, an odd bit of wonder in his voice.
Ron's brow furrowed. "Did you have a vision then?"
Harry made a vague affirmative sound.
"Well, your scar always hurts after encounters with You-Know-Who, doesn't it?"
"Yeah…yeah, it usually does."
Ron was staring at him, expression concerned, probably wondering if something had come loose in his brain during the vision or the knock on the head.
But Harry didn't explain. He was busy puzzling things over, trying to get beyond the headache so he could think clearly. It wasn't working—it couldn't be. Because the wild conclusions he was coming to couldn't possibly be right.
He was distracted from this thinking when the door banged open. He winced as his head pounded along with the reverberating sound, then winced again as he caught Ron's reaction to Snape storming in.
Ron stood, limiting Harry's view of his facial expression, and placing himself clearly between Harry and the Potions Master.
Snape ignored him entirely. He took a rather neat sidestep that brought him around Ron and to Harry's side. He knelt down, looking searchingly at Harry. "You had a vision," he said, and it was a statement rather than a question.
Harry wasn't sure if he was expected to respond directly to that or not. Instead he commented darkly, "She looks a lot better than she did a few months ago—she must have been eating well."
"She?"
He focused on Snape again. "Bellatrix."
Snape lifted his chin slightly. "Tell me."
"There's this remote house," he paused, concentrating, then shook his head helplessly. "I'm sorry, I don't know where it is. I suppose they're beyond help, anyway."
"The house, Potter," Snape reminded when it seemed as if he was drifting. "What happened there?"
"There's a family—three kids…" he broke off, swallowing hard. "They're training their new recruits." He left it at that, unable to say more. He knew Snape could fill in the blanks.
The older man closed his eyes for a moment before he refocused on Harry. "I have no doubt that your head hurts. But I need you to occlude your mind; your defenses are weak right now."
Harry started to nod, but luckily thought better of it. "Yeah, okay," he said instead, twisting slightly to better face Snape. As he did so, he caught a brief glimpse of Ron's look as he watched—a mix of resentment, protectiveness, and confusion. Then he gave all his focus to his Professor.
Snape placed a hand on his forearm. "Close your eyes. Focus on me; empty your mind." He used the calm tone that he always used at night.
Harry latched onto that and tried to comply. But he couldn't—he kept coming back to a jumble of Bellatrix LeStrange, his scar, and lots of unexpected questions.
"Mr. Potter, you must relax," broke into his thoughts. He felt Snape lay a hand over each of his clinched fists, gently prying them from the arms of the chair and smoothing his fingers flat. "Breathe," Snape coached. "Deep breaths."
Harry did as he was told. Slowly, he was able to order his thoughts. He felt himself relaxing as he did so.
He finally opened his eyes again when he heard the door open. Snape gave him one last measuring look before he got to his feet to make room for Madame Pomfrey. As they exchanged places, Harry got a glimpse of both of his friends. Hermione looked happy to see him upright and conscious.
Ron was looking at Snape like he'd never seen him before.
oOo
Harry didn't sleep that night. That was an interesting feat, since Snape had taken to sitting with him until after he fell asleep. He'd had to put on a very good act—and it hadn't been easy. But even with his Professor's calm instruction, Harry couldn't occlude his mind. It was still racing with his earlier realization and all of the conclusions he'd drawn since.
By morning he was exhausted and miserable, and he finally thought he had answers to a question he never would have asked. He was ready for a confrontation.
He had to get through breakfast first. He was horribly grumpy, which seemed to be darkening Snape's mood as well. Their conversation was clipped and the meal finished as soon as possible. Snape kept casting him odd looks as he left the quarters and started upstairs.
Technically, he should be heading for class. But he thought this took precedence. He made his way to the stone gargoyle. He spent about five minutes calling out the names of various candies before the gargoyle finally jumped aside at "Licorice Wand," and the staircase began to move.
He rode it up and stepped out, pausing to cast a brief glance at the portraits on the wall as he made his way towards the desk and the man sitting behind it.
"Professor Dumbledore? Can I speak with you for a moment?"
The Headmaster looked up. "Certainly, Harry. Come in; take a seat."
Harry did so, sitting straight and rigid in the chair before the desk. He didn't bother with any more pleasantries. "I suppose Snape told you about my vision?"
"I would remind you to use his title, but perhaps you are past 'Professor' now. You might even call him Severus," the elderly wizard suggested, an undeniable twinkle in his eye.
Despite himself, Harry's lips quirked into a little smile. "I can't imagine how he'd react if I tried that. Maybe, if he ever decides to call me Harry instead of Mr. Potter, I'll think about it."
"It will happen."
Harry shook himself then, wondering how he'd allowed himself to be led off track. "Can I assume your effort to distract me means that he did talk to you?"
Dumbledore studied him closely as he admitted, "He spoke to me, yes. Are you particularly concerned with this vision?"
Harry shrugged stiffly. "It was bad, sure. I suppose I might worry about how many new Death Eaters they're training, and if that sort of thing will be happening again." He paused, and watched Dumbledore's reactions carefully. "What I am particularly concerned with is my scar, and the burning. It's been a while since I've felt that."
"Really?" Curiosity with a tad of concern. Harry could detect nothing more. Dumbledore was as difficult to read as Snape.
"Yes. And I think that's a bit funny, what with the dreams he's been sending me. In the past, nearly every time Voldemort's been connected to me, my scar has burned. But it didn't. Not with any of the dreams, not even the last one."
When the Headmaster didn't respond other than with a slight tilt of his head, Harry continued. "Ron was worried about me being so close to Snape. He was worried that Voldemort might have motivation to want me close to him. And if Snape's true loyalties lie with Voldemort, well, let's face it. That plan makes an uncomfortable amount of sense."
Now Dumbledore spoke up again. "Severus is not working for Voldemort, Harry," he said adamantly.
"I need to know why you're so sure of that."
"That is not my story to tell."
Harry eyed him warily. He'd known since first year that Dumbledore had an unusually strong and resilient attachment to Snape. More than anything, he wanted to know why. He expected that it would justify the security he now felt with Snape. He also hadn't really expected Dumbledore to tell him. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. Someday, I'm going to find out."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, I expect that you will."
"That wasn't really the point, either," Harry stated brashly. "The point is that Ron was right. The dreams were planted for the purpose of pushing me closer to Snape." He paused to lock his gaze with the Headmaster's. "They just weren't from Voldemort."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and regarded him in silence. Harry was almost certain he saw a hint of resignation in the elderly eyes.
He pushed ahead. "It was process of elimination, really. Voldemort is the only one outside of Hogwarts connected to me and strong enough to get into my head from such a distance. If it wasn't him, it had to be someone in close proximity. I don't know that much about legilimency. But with what I do know…the dreams were done without eye contact, without anyone in my immediate vicinity. I only know of one person here strong enough and with enough knowledge of my parents to have pulled this off."
There was dead silence for a moment as they studied each other. Then Dumbledore finally asked, "Are you angry?"
"Don't you think I have a right to be?" Harry answered softly, intensely. That essentially answered his question, but he wanted to hear it aloud. "Are you confirming it?"
Dumbledore gazed at him, then finally nodded slightly, once.
Harry fought to keep his emotions in. He'd spent the night going through all of this in his mind, pretty much accepting this conclusion and moving on to what it meant. This meant that it was Dumbledore who'd so recognized that need in him, and not Voldemort. He supposed he should be grateful for that. But he was having trouble being grateful for anything right then. "Then why Snape?" he choked out, dismayed by the tears evident in his voice. "Why choose someone I'd have so much trouble getting close to?" He hesitated only a moment before adding in a whisper, "Why not you?"
A pained look crossed the weathered face. "I shall not be around forever, Harry," he said gently. "And you and Severus are kindred souls. You may not believe that, but it is true."
"Oh, well, that makes it all all right, then," Harry sputtered, tone dripping with sarcasm. He stood, unable to sit still any longer, and began to pace.
"I do feel that I need to ask forgiveness for my methods. But I rather felt I had few options. As you saw yesterday, even with all you have learned, your connection with Voldemort is still strong and very much a threat. You needed to learn Occlumency, before it became a real danger again."
"And you couldn't do it yourself because…" he trailed off meaningfully, but then answered his own question as realization hit him, light dawning in his eyes. "Because you don't want me to get more attached to you. You've been trying to push me closer to Snape for a while now." He stared at the man, trying to make sense of that. "Are you so sure that's a good idea? Don't you think you need Snape out there, with all of his detachedness?"
"While he is quite an asset in the field, I have come to believe that you need him more here, Harry." He let that sink in for a moment before adding, "He is looking for redemption. He has never considered that it might not be found in Voldemort's inner circle or with the Order, but rather right here in the halls of Hogwarts. And he has never imagined that it might come with a connection to someone else." He paused to take a deep calming breath, then said intensely, "Harry—that need for others and desire for love…Voldemort would see that as your greatest weakness. But it is in that that he will underestimate you."
Harry forced himself to think for a moment before he spoke again. "It wasn't fair. To let me see what I could have had like that. It hurt," he finished softly.
There was pain in Dumbledore's expression as well. "I know. Please know that I did not want to hurt you, Harry. I knew it would take something desperate to bring you closer to Severus. My goal was to make things better for you."
"Don't get me wrong; I hear what you're saying. And I think the end result is turning out exactly as you would have liked. But the way you went about it…" Harry trailed off, shaking his head. "I fell asleep on the Quidditch field! I could have killed myself, and Ron!"
"Yes, that was an unfortunate incident. But it did provide cause to move you into Severus' quarters. I had rather hoped it would end the need for the charade entirely."
"What about the whole thing about joining them in the last dream…weren't you afraid that I might actually do it?"
Dumbledore promptly shook his head. "No. You're a smart boy, Harry, and you're strong. You're not suicidal. I knew you wouldn't think it real. It was time to convince you that there was a real threat there; that you had to take the Occlumency seriously and that you were better off in reality than in the dreams." Dumbledore seemed quite confident in all of that, more so than Harry himself was. "But, just to be safe, you were not alone in the house that night."
He cast a meaningful glance over his shoulder, which Harry followed. Fawkes looked down at him from his perch, eyes seeming quite human at that moment. The Phoenix bowed his head.
Harry shook his own head slightly. Even though he'd had the night to puzzle through this, it hadn't seemed entirely real then. This was too much to process; he wanted to get out of there. But there was one last thing he had to know. "Snape doesn't know, does he? He really thinks it was Voldemort?"
Dumbledore looked him in the eyes. "He has no idea it was me."
"Then this really doesn't change anything between me and Snape," Harry stated with certainty, appreciating the connection even more now. "And I hope that makes you happy. Because it very much changes how I feel about you." He hesitated when the elderly wizard shut his eyes briefly. Still, he continued honestly, "I'm not sure how much I trust you anymore."
With that, he turned his back on the first adult who'd ever made him feel safe, and he walked out.
He didn't look back. He didn't see Dumbledore look up after him, a certain sadness present amongst the resignation on his face.
oOo
Harry was storming down the hallway, paying little attention to his surroundings and with no real direction, when he was abruptly grabbed by the arm and manhandled into a room.
He sighed when he recognized the Room of Requirement. "This is getting to be a habit," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to face Ron and Hermione. He didn't wait for them to speak. "Look, I don't need this little intervention, or whatever it is. I'm fine. And Snape is on our side. I'm not in the mood for this."
They both seemed a bit taken aback. Hermione recovered first. "Harry…has something happened?"
"I'm not ready to talk about it, all right? But it has nothing to do with Snape." Harry took in their deeply concerned looks and sighed, calming down a bit. "I'm sorry. But I am all right. I can take care of myself, and I need you to trust me here."
Ron still looked unhappy, but Hermione silenced him with a look. Then she turned back to Harry. "All right. We actually have something a little more important to talk to you about."
More important than Snape luring him to the dark side? Harry gazed at them warily, and tried to brace himself. "What?" he asked with a bit of dread.
Hermione looked to Ron, but he just looked back at her, apparently unwilling to take up whatever the topic was. Harry tried to brace himself further as she huffed and turned back to him. "Harry, that last dream…where You-Know-Who was trying to get you to…" she twirled her hand and forewent the actual words. "We'd like to talk about that."
For something she wanted to talk about, she sure seemed to be having a hard time doing so. Harry opened his mouth to tell them that, as it turned out, that wasn't the point of the dreams. He got as far as "That wasn't—" before he changed his mind, and broke off, shaking his head. He wasn't going to tell them—not yet, anyway. Not until he'd had more time to think on it himself.
Unfortunately, they were misinterpreting his reluctance to answer. They exchanged an uneasy glance with each other, and Ron stepped forward this time. "Harry, you'd never really think about…I mean—you'd never actually…hurt yourself, would you?"
And now he got the point of this conversation. Harry bit his lip, and didn't allow himself to ponder his answer. When he said, "No," it sounded far away, as if someone else had said it.
Hermione didn't seem to quite buy it either. "Because you should know that we'd be very upset—and not about a missing hero, but about you."
He swallowed hard and looked away from his friends' penetrating gazes. Truthfully, he didn't think he'd ever have it in him to commit suicide. He really didn't want to die. But hurting himself—he'd skirted that a few times over the summer. Especially if one included things like not eating or sleeping on occasion. He had been becoming uncomfortably acquainted with depression.
Hermione stepped closer, slipping her hand into his. "Harry?"
He finally looked back at her, then past her to Ron. It was blatantly obvious how much they cared for him, and it made his voice shake as he finally spoke. "I…I've had a hard time since Sirius died. You both know that." He glanced between them, then took to studying the floor. "It was a really hard summer. And I can't say that there weren't a couple of times…" he trailed ,off, swallowing hard. But then he looked back up at them. "But even then, I wouldn't have killed myself, I promise you that. And I'm feeling a lot better, now. I've worked through some of it. And you should know that Snape has been a big part of that."
He found his gaze caught in Hermione's. She was studying him closely. After a few moments she finally nodded, then let go of his hand and stepped closer, slipping her arms around him in a tight hug.
He closed his eyes and held her in return.
After a bit, Ron cleared his throat, prompting them to pull away from each other.
Hermione looked at him seriously again. "As for this thing with Snape—"
Harry cut her off. "Hermione…" he said warningly.
She tipped her chin up and stared at him. "You have to admit that your judgment has been faulty in the past. Ron isn't wrong to be worried about this. That said, I do trust you here. If Snape can be good for you, and vice versa, then I'm all for it. But I will be keeping a very close eye on you."
Harry grinned ruefully. "Thanks."
She gave him a slight smile in return. "Sure." Then she turned. "And I really think there's something else going on here, other that Ron's distrust of Snape." With that she grasped Ron's elbow, pulling him forward. "Now, I'm going to let you two talk."
"Oh, yes. That turned out well last time." Harry hadn't really meant to say that aloud, but his bad mood had begun creeping back with the turn of conversation. Somehow, he felt even worse when Ron winced at the words.
Hermione was glaring at him. "Are you going to be civil?"
They looked at each other for a moment, then nodded wordlessly to her.
She arched an eyebrow as she glanced between them. "Are you going to say two words to each other?"
Nether of them answered her. Harry shrugged slightly.
"Men." She rolled her eyes, then said warningly, "I'm going to be right outside that door. If I hear you yelling, I'll be back in here in two seconds flat."
With that she turned and stepped outside, leaving Harry and Ron staring at each other uncomfortably. After a bit Ron finally broke the silence. "Look, I still don't like Snape, and I can't promise you that I ever will. But I did see him with you yesterday. And I believe that, at the very least, he is helping you."
"He is," Harry said with certainty.
Ron still looked somewhat doubtful. But he said only, "Someday, we've really got to figure out why Dumbledore's so sure about him."
"He won't tell us. He doles out information in tiny pieces, on his own timetable," Harry put in with a trace of bitterness.
Ron gave him an odd look at that, but didn't comment on it. "Look…I'm not even sure how this fight happened. I was just worried."
"You've got as many issues with Snape as I had, and you really haven't had much reason to change your mind. Nothing but my word." Harry was inclined to let it go now, especially since he'd seen how deeply concerned Ron was about him. He knew this had all been born of that concern. Still, he needed to say something more. "I really need you to take my word here. Not that I don't appreciate that you're looking out for me, I do. I just…I need you to let me make my own decision here. I understand the risk, but the reward is worth it."
Ron met his eyes, and slowly nodded. "Okay."
"What do you suppose Hermione was talking about? About something else going on here?"
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. She has a tendency to be a bit mental; you know that."
There was a muffled exclamation from the other side of the door, then it was flung open. Hermione stuck her head back in. "I am not the mental one, Ronald. He's jealous, Harry," she informed, then gave Ron a somewhat nasty look before she pulled back and shut the door once more.
They both stared after her for a moment, then Harry turned his stare to Ron. "Jealous?" he asked incredulously.
"I don't know what she's talking about!" Ron protested.
"You do so!" came her muffled response.
"Hey, this is supposed to be a private conversation you know!" he called back.
Harry drew his attention back. "Ron?"
Ron glanced at him, then looked down as his face tinted red. "Okay, maybe I have missed you lately. Maybe there is a tiny element of jealousy in there. But it's very tiny. It was mostly concern."
Harry tried not to smile, but he didn't think he'd succeeded. Ron was jealous of the time he'd been spending with Snape. He never would have seen that coming. But as the best friend who'd watched Ron with his family and felt a jealousy all his own, he could understand it. "Look, I was only staying away from you guys because I couldn't deal with everything. I promise I'll be around more, all right?"
Ron cut his eyes to him. "You'll let us keep an eye on you and Snape?"
"I will," he agreed with an exaggerated huff.
They shared a smile.
And then, just when Harry thought they were past the hard part, Ron sighed and came closer. "Harry, about the hurting-yourself-thing…"
Harry cut him off, shaking his head in denial. "Ron—"
Ron held his hands out, placating. "Just promise me that if you ever feel like that you'll come and talk to me, or someone, all right?"
Once again, the concern in his friend's manner was almost overwhelming for Harry. He nodded and said softly, "I promise."
Ron eyed him for a moment, then nodded. Looking a bit uncertain, he nevertheless stepped closer still and wrapped Harry in a hug of his own.
Awkward though it was, it was heartfelt. Harry allowed himself a small smile as he returned the embrace. He held on, letting the warmth of being cared for wash through him, and refused to give in to the moisture that was trying to gather in his eyes.
After a bit the awkwardness overcame the pure emotion, and they let go with manly-sort of pats on the back, looking anywhere but at each other. Ron stepped back and cleared his throat.
Harry finally said, "So, any more serious, emotionally-scarring issues we need to take care of?" He laughed weakly.
Ron gave him a wry smile. "I think that's all for now. Thank Merlin."
"Well, I suppose we could go to class. You know how there was a point back there where I was actually ahead? Well, that didn't really last."
Ron smirked. "Hey, you've been distracted. I could…" he trailed off, as Harry was watching him doubtfully, knowing that he hadn't been all that focused himself. "Yeah, probably not. Don't worry. Hermione will help both of us. She'd pass all her classes, even if she had to take the exams in the middle of a battle."
Through the door came an indignant, "I heard that!"
oOo