Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Backstory 01 : All Through the Night
Chapter Twelve : Children's Dreams Cannot be Broken
Tuesday 23 December 2003
Sleep proved to be as elusive as desire when they'd finally tumbled into bed, long after the headmaster and his wife had left. Near dawn, when exhaustion competed with circular conversations and dark formless dreams, they'd finally found a restless slumber built solely on desperation. Scant hours later, two sets of gritty eyes and shaking limbs crawled out of bed well past breakfast. A long shower each refreshed little except to remove the old stale scents of fearful exertion from two bodies too preoccupied to care about it at the time.
Staring into his third cup of tea, so black and thick Harry had earlier remarked it looked like espresso, Severus reckoned he might be able to dredge sufficient concentration to make the potions on his list today. Even with such bitter stimulation, he knew he must still look like hell when Dobby quietly brought him breakfast, giving none of his customary nonsense when he removed it later, barely touched.
Eating held no appeal. Apparently his spouse felt the same way - just a little Harry quirk - his state of mind easily gauged by what he sculpted out of his food. If the shapeless mound of congealed scrambled eggs fenced by little finger sausages lined end-to-end was any indication, Harry couldn't even summon the wherewithal to be clever about it this morning.
He couldn't much blame Harry his distractive nervousness, considering he'd volunteered to be the one to tell Perrin about last night, but did he have to wallow in it? While conversation was not usually high on his list of preferred morning activities, he perversely desired company and the fidgety 'do-not-disturb' silence next to him grated. So, immersing himself in the daily paper, he left him alone, although by the twentieth tedious page of it, he'd almost taken pity on him, had even drawn breath to make the offer to trade when Harry's call crystal, blazing orange, sounded shrilly into the strained silence. The words had dried into amused irritation; he didn't think he'd ever seen Harry so relieved to go to a more impersonal emergency, leaving him almost cheerfully with this one.
So sorry and all that. Bugger.
Where was the boy? Snorting derisively at the divination advertisements near the back, (and why on earth did Trelawney use that photo - it made her look more like a hag) he caught himself tapping his foot, trying to establish a rhythm to counter two clocks ticking out of synch with each other; he'd never really noticed before how noisy the apartment was. The bubbling fish tank partially masked a faint clicking he'd come to associate with the gargoyle doing whatever it was it did on the ramp. A log popping sent a snap of sparks rising through the chimney. The drip-drip-drip of water in the stone sink kept time with the wind tapping on the windows which almost matched the steady slap of soft-soled shoes on stone...
Shoes? He tensed, knowing his waiting had ended.
.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.
Even scrubbing twice hadn't completely erased the taste of dirty feet from his mouth. Groggily, Perrin went through the motions of bathing, dissatisfied with the water's temperature - one moment icy, the next scorching; he knew it was no more the shower's fault than it was his clothes' fault when his toes got caught in the front flap of his y-fronts, sending him sprawling across the bed, and the shirt sleeves refused to slide over his arms and the jumper tag tangled in his hair.
No, it was all him.
The hollowness in his belly, deep and growling as if he hadn't eaten in days, wasn't really hunger, it was just - empty - had been ever since Professor Sprout had told him his mother was dead. But today the emptiness was different, more scary than sorry and, unfortunately, he knew it well. Too well, and maybe that was why he was scared. And he suddenly realised he was. Really Scared. Not that he hadn't been before - he had, just like this, but not since coming to Hogwarts.
Tony had been here. He could feel it, the itchy crawling that started in the back of his head and usually wound up in his stomach, making it twitch and groan. He could see it, the vague formless visions that hung just on the edge of sight. He could hear it, the hauntingly familiar screams which filled his nightmares, the ones everyone tried to convince him weren't real, but he knew better, just as he knew from the rawness of his throat now, as then, that he'd been the one to make them. He could smell it, the sweetly sick stench of dead things - like the time a rat had died under the floorboards and his dad couldn't find it - the lingering smell on his skin when he'd wake and not know where or when he was.
He had few illusions anymore about Tony, about what he wanted, what he'd done to his mother - the same he wanted to do to him. The adults might say nothing, but they didn't need to - he already knew. There was no escape from it. His constant nightmares were filled with the vivid memories he'd come to accept as truth, so when his head said Tony couldn't possibly have been here because he was still alive, he had to give it some consideration. It was all so confusing.
Something had happened last night, perhaps something good? It couldn't be all bad if he was still here. Had he dreamt the pain, the bright flashes, and later, the gentle touches? It was odd what he remembered, small bits of nonsense, but no odder than the other new things he was feeling, things he'd not sensed the day before. Why did his back ache and his skin feel like it had been turned inside-out? Why did the unfamiliar tingling in his chest bring to mind his da's warm cloak wrapped snugly around him against an unexpected bitter wind when they'd gone walking, yet made him feel heavy and slow, like he was wading through treacle?
Were these new sensations why he was still here and Tony wasn't?
But even though he knew these new feelings were substantial and real, they still didn't quite fill the emptiness Tony always left behind. Maybe if he just ignored the void, concentrated on the simple things, like one foot in front of the other, he could step around the trap without falling in. Maybe if he carefully closed the door to his room and counted the steps across the rotunda, the strange and frightening things he could still see and hear and smell in his head and all around him wouldn't bother him as much.
Maybe he could stop feeling Tony.
.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.
Perrin looked a bit groggier than he'd expected but given the night's activities, he supposed it was inevitable. Severus silently watched as the boy (usually so chipper it made his teeth ache) walked straight to the sink, fully ignoring him. Was his introspection so concentrated he'd not even seen him? Interesting notion and if this was the case... He pulled his wand and sure enough, when Perrin turned to take his steaming tea and warmed porridge to the table, he gasped, dropping them both.
"Morning," Severus said casually, "is a terrible time to begin the day, isn't it?"
Perrin shakily took the rescued crockery hovering near the table's edge and, with the care reserved for one who couldn't see well, placed them on its surface. "'M'rnin', Sev'rus," he slurred hoarsely.
The boy had his sympathies; Severus knew precisely how Perrin felt the morning after a warding - thick as two planks - and he'd come prepared. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a vial filled with a viscous pink liquid. Popping the seal with a practiced thumb, he handed it to the boy. "Drink this. Take it all at once or you'll choke."
Without protest, Perrin tipped his head back, grimacing as the gelatinous mass slid down his throat in one gulp. As the inner fog lifted in slow stages, he blinked several times before asking, "What was that?"
"I'll spare you the lecture - for now," he growled, barely holding back the 'bite', "but one should ask that question before one takes a potion with which one is unfamiliar." When Perrin's face fell, he regretted the tone so necessary with such warnings; the boy must learn caution - even with him. "As to your tardy enquiry, it's a mild stimulant used for, among other things, clearing one's head after a sleeping spell."
"Sleeping spell?" Perrin repeated, sipping his tea and eyeing his breakfast.
"Eat, or it will make you nauseous," Severus ordered. Needing no further encouragement, Perrin shovelled in spoonfuls of the thick stuff, leaving the dollop of sweetened cream and cinnamon in the centre until last.
As Perrin ate, Severus explained, "Harry cast a sleeping spell on you last night because you had a nightmare."
"Where is Harry?" Perrin asked around a mouthful, wiping an escaping dribble with his hand.
"Mouth empty when we speak and there's a reason we have napkins," he remonstrated without thought, handing him the one still sitting next to his bowl. "Harry is at Barties for an emergency consultation."
"He's away a lot, isn't he?" Perrin asked after a moment, visibly swallowing before speaking. Yes, the boy would have done well in his own house, the deliberate obedience an admirable, (and almost successful) attempt to avoid speaking of the previous topic. Pity he was supposed to discourage such artful dissembling...
"No more than normal; it only seems that way when one wants to find him." Or have him do the 'honours', like now - convenient things, call crystals. "And redirecting is not becoming."
"Sir?" Perrin asked, feigning innocence.
"Didn't we already have this discussion?" Severus rejoined, darkly amused.
Eyes wide, Perrin nodded. "Yes, sir," he murmured, gazing at his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry I woke you."
Mindful of the boy's embarrassment, he bit back his initial, 'nonsense!', as perhaps too harsh. "Nightmares require no apology, they just happen; there's no shame in them." Well, he didn't necessarily believe him either and he certainly wasn't going to convince Perrin with one platitude. "Are you through eating?"
"Yes, sir," Perrin replied, pushing the mostly empty bowl away.
"Good. Finish your tea; we have work to do." Perrin swallowed hard, looking out the window at the day turned sullen, the fluttering pulse clearly visible through the thin taut skin of his throat. Severus blinked away the unbidden vision of thick fingers, pressing, breaking that fragile neck. Shuddering, he addressed instead the boy's obvious reluctance. "Out with it."
"Um, I promised Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick I would meet them after breakfast."
A rather blunt response and Severus wondered why he'd said nothing before this, but there was an air of near panic there as well that stayed him from asking. Besides, he was safe alone as long as he stayed in the castle and Flitwick would keep the two 'boys' out of too much trouble. He hoped. "Very well. If you're finished before lunch, meet me in my lab. Otherwise, send word through Dobby."
"Yes, sir," Perrin replied dully, standing.
He watched him walk stiffly out the room; there was something in his stance, a tension to the thin shoulders and straight back trying to tell him something vital. When Perrin woodenly skirted the fish tank, he realised what it was: somehow, Perrin knew. Maybe not all of it, but enough he was scared spitless and desperately endeavoring not to show it.
Severus whipped out of the chair and swiftly crossed the rotunda, catching the boy up as he made it to the front door. "Perrin," he said softly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. It took ages for Perrin to finally meet his eyes, time in which, through another's face, he saw his younger self master a churning fear to finally regard him with a world-weary blankness. The ugly memories of those things which had once elicited such a response from him as a child, imbued his words with a ringing conviction. "It's all right, Perrin. You're safe now. He cannot touch you here." The shoulder relaxed a fraction. "We'll talk about it more this afternoon."
"Thank you," Perrin whispered, closing his eyes, but not before Severus had seen the hungry hope no boy, nor man, should be forced to desire.
Severus awkwardly touched his cheek, then dropped his hand, waving it towards the door. "Now, go. You're already late."
Perrin nodded, escaping before he could've called him back. Damn, he was so bad with all this. Telling Perrin was the right thing to do, but certainly not the most pleasant, nor something he wanted to face alone.
.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.
"Harry? Have you checked the date on that Darrow Root?" And did I tell you how much I appreciate that you got Jed to take your place?
"Yes, mother," Harry said with a tolerant snort. "As often as I use it, I can make this potion in my sleep now."
"Better to keep your eyes open," he said, mouth quirking sideways at the soft chuff from the boy chopping Asphodel next to him as he set up the cauldrons. Assembling the prepared ingredients for the one remaining potion he needed to make this afternoon, he reflected that, all things considered, it hadn't gone badly, although they'd yet to tell Perrin anything.
He was considering several possible openings when Perrin asked, "How's this, Severus?"
He studied the prepared Asphodel. A bit wavy in the cross cut, but the stem was tough and he'd purposely not given the boy the same enchanted knives he and Harry were using which would have made short work of it; the blades could slice through anything, including the table or board on which one cut if one didn't know how to control them. Seeing some response was necessary, he said blandly, "It's adequate."
When Perrin unexpectedly hung his head, he sighed. Would he never get this right? "What's the problem?"
"When you say something is 'adequate' in class it usually means 'shoddy'."
Well, yes, he supposed it could at that. However... "Hmph. No, it means just that - adequate - not perfect, but sufficient to do the job - about what I would expect out of someone your age and experience who was actually concentrating on the task."
Perrin considered this a moment. Tilting his head, he said, "This is no different than what we do in class. Why don't you tell us then our work is 'adequate'?"
Ignoring Harry's snort, he replied, "I do not praise students in an effort to keep all things equal." Perrin almost had the one-raised-brow perfected and he stifled a smile as he continued, "I cannot watch all the students all the time; if I praise one and miss another, it causes ill will and can create a harmful distraction from the task at hand as someone stews over the slight. And if I can't watch everyone at once, I certainly cannot predict who will fall into such stupidity; as you have good cause to remember, I cannot save everyone from their folly and inattention."
Well, that was not exactly what he'd planned to say, but he did have to admit, with Perrin's hurt gasp, it got the point across and gave him the opening he'd sought to introduce what needed to be said. He drew breath to explain...
The unexpected sloosh-thunk of the enchanted knife going through a bad Darrow root, the reflexive, "Perrin, get back - NOW!", the loud, angry snarl-pop! of the volatile root's explosion, Harry's pained, "O'm'g'd'F'CK!", the metallic stench of fresh blood and the pulsing stream of it sailing into his cauldron all happened almost simultaneously. Severus was only peripherally aware that Perrin had followed his instructions to the letter and was standing well back; there was a part of him extremely proud when the boy retained the contents of his stomach as Harry held up his forefinger to the light.
Problem was, it was held by the wrong hand.
"Bloody fucking hell, Severus! Can't the imbeciles at the supply house be trusted to put the right date on the fucking package? If I had known it was THAT fresh, I would've used a different protectant and now look..."
"Yes, yes..." Severus soothed, trying to catch the hand waving the severed finger around as if it were a baton. The other, spurting blood in every direction, was impossible to grasp as its owner heedlessly waved it about. "Damn it, Harry, let me see your hand."
"You can't bloody well miss it, now can you?" Harry huffed, pointing his severed finger at him. Severus caught the injured hand, ignoring the excruciated howl when he circled the wrist with an iron grip.
"Perrin, come here." The boy hesitantly stepped next to him. Impatiently he asked, "Are you going to faint on me?" When Perrin shook his head, he nodded. "Good - put your wand here and repeat the incantation, 'Desinum'." Perrin did as instructed, the spell staunching the stream to a trickle as he released Harry's wrist. "Now hold it until I can get a pincer so we can transport..."
"I am not going to Poppy, Severus."
He stopped as he was about to break off a bud from the pinching plant on the back worktable. "Pride, Mr. Potter?" he asked, brows raised.
Pale. Harry was far too pale, his eyes glazing with shock. But shaking himself with an effort, he pulled it together, saying sternly through gritted teeth, "Hardly. However, in the time it would take to argue with you about it, we could have it fixed - but only if we're fast enough."
"Harry, you know better. You should regrow it - if not the infirmary, then St. Mungos, or I have a dose han..."
"I can't..." Harry's eyes were wide. "The potion won't work..." He held out the finger to Severus, begging with his eyes. "It's a clean cut, but the spell in this knife will unmagic it - you know that. Losing it entirely would be preferable." Anguished, he pleaded, "Please, Severus. If I don't have my hands - whole..."
"I know," Severus whispered harshly, aware of the boy's eyes following their discussion like a bad tennis set, his wand never wavering. "Very well. Give me the damn thing." He positioned the finger as best he could, mumbling, "Ought to put it on upside down - might even be an improvement - ruined my potion, too." He looked up when he had it roughly in place, temporarily fixing it with a spell, which also stopped the bleeding entirely. "You do know the odds are abysmal."
"They're better than even since you're going to have to help."
"Me? Harry, you know my healing skills are at best marginal."
"Yeah, but you seem to do fine where I'm concerned and I can't do it alone; I just need a conduit to get inside myself and the thought of Jed nosing around my insides makes me want to vomit." Severus rather thought it was more the injury making him sick, but held his tongue as Harry added, "Damn it, there's no time! You just get us there, and I'll take care of it. All right?"
"Bloody waste of time - you can't reattach that..."
"Watch me." His confidence was almost as astonishing as his desperation.
Tying up his sleeves, he said briskly, "Perrin? Make me a Tersum solution."
While Perrin quickly gathered the bowl and the water, Severus asked quietly, "How?"
"Just a tiny bit is all I need. A whisper only. And don't let go."
"What happens if I do?"
Harry shuddered. "I have no idea."
He stared at him a moment, incredulous. "Damned stupid Gryffindor," he muttered, dipping his hands and Harry's into the solution Perrin prepared. Getting them both seated on the bench and taking a deep breath, he placed his right hand under Harry's; on top, the left sandwiched the injury. He closed his eyes, quelling the agony he could feel coming from his mate, and when he felt the bond flowing quieter between them, he whispered, "Sanos."
He'd no more entered the pathways when he could feel Harry's magic rush past him. He dared not look lest he lose his concentration, but the surprised gasp he couldn't miss from Perrin beside him told him more about Harry's progress than his own connection. But it was distracting. He quieted further, falling into a null spot within him, the place he'd once created whenever confronting Voldemort, where no one could touch or find him, sometimes not even himself.
Disturbed only by vague voices absorbed without meaning or comprehension, time and thought and feeling and Severus Snape ceased to exist as he floated in the blank nothingness wrought so strongly within. A flutter, a touch, a hand, a kiss, a persistent buzzing. Slowly, he came out of it, consciousness returning in steady stages until he opened his eyes, blinking against the late afternoon light filtering through the high windows.
"Hey," Harry said softly, holding both his hands, his voice laden with worry. "Welcome back."
"I assume we were successful," he croaked, clearing his throat.
Harry held up his hand, wiggling the previously severed finger. "Yup - not quite as good as new yet, but it's still healing - and it's not mundane." He leaned in close caressing his cheek. "Are you all right?"
"I will be," he said in his most dismissive tone. He looked blearily around the room; it was spotless - even his ruined potion had been cleared. So, he'd been out quite a while; no wonder Harry sounded worried.
He was parched and was about to stand when a brimming cup of water appeared in front of him, the hand holding it, steady and young. Concerned yet guarded eyes met his almost on a level. "Harry said you would want this," the unspoken question answered with a nod before he drank deeply, tasting his own restorative mixed into the welcome cool wetness.
"Thank you," he said, handing the vessel back. Sighing he withdrew his hands from Harry's (ignoring the annoyed click of his tongue which sounded so much like his mentor's it almost made him smile) and, placing his palms on his knees, stood, the abrupt movement making him sway with dizziness. Two sets of hands steadied him, one firm on his arms, the other hesitant on his back - yet they were there and for the first time since all this had begun, the small spark of hope he'd harboured blossomed into a steady flame. Harry's hands tightening on his arms told him he'd seen it, the sharp flick of his eyes to the side reminding him they had much left to discuss, so with some regret, he tucked the warm feeling deep inside him to examine later when he had the leisure to do so.
"Well, considering there is insufficient time to start over before dinner, I suggest we return. There is much we still need..."
"Harry already told me," Perrin said softly, interrupting him.
Sitting abruptly, he could only stare at the boy's calmness. "Pardon?"
"While we were cleaning - before you woke up - Harry told me."
Feeling lighter than he could credit, he nevertheless needed to know what had been said. "About?"
"Tony," he whispered, "and what happened last night. All of it, even the window part."
Perrin looked to Harry, who nodded, saying quietly, "Go on - it gets easier with the telling, and he'll want to know."
"He told me about the Mark and what it can do, what it feels like, and why it can't be removed - and the spell you and the headmaster removed and what it did - to me..." His voice trailed off and, if possible, he got even paler, but he was gazing at him steadily now. "And the new ward you and Harry gave me and what it does..." His eyes tracked back to Harry. "...And I don't want to know more. I don't want to talk about it anymore, if that's all right. It's over."
Harry ran a hand over Perrin's head, almost in benediction, leaving a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Perrin, we understand." He turned shadowed eyes to Severus. "Sometimes we just have to suck it up and put the fear and the past in a special place where we never forget it because we can't and we shouldn't, but it's also not in front of us all the time either, so we can move on."
There was so much pain, so much memory in the lines of his husband's face, Severus knew he and the boy had talked about more than just Tony. Harry was so good for him, would know things Perrin needed that he could never fathom. They were so much alike these two, one who'd overcome his own demon helping the other build the inner strength necessary to confound the machinations of a man bent on his destruction, the only differences being the reasons. But when did evil ever need a motive?
Perrin looked at the floor. "I understand," he said in a small voice. "It's all over now, isn't it? Dad and Mum and our home and everything else. All gone." The eyes returned bearing a mature resolution Severus rarely saw even in adults; only Harry had ever borne that careworn, ageless burden before and it saddened him to see it in another. "I can't ever go back. I'm a wizard now. I have a new home and people who - care..." his voice cracked "...and that's more than I had when I came here." Perrin leaned into his side and kissed him on the cheek, whispering brokenly, "I'm all that's left."
"We're here, Perrin. You're not alone." His arms reached out. "Come here."
While holding a trembling boy close was a new experience, his robes were no strangers to absorbing sparse tears and providing a solid hold for gripping fingers, nor were his hands completely unfamiliar with the task of soothing lonely distress. And when more familiar arms embraced them both, the warm feelings from moments before, so carefully hidden within, suffused him, giving him joy against the fleeting sorrow.
.:o:. .:o:. .:o:. .:o:.
TBC