Thank you, once again, for your reviews. Please, if you are enjoying my story, spare a few moments to leave me a few words of encouragement. It helps motivate me to continue writing at the same pace, and allows me less excuses to put off my daily additions to each chapter. Coming up in future chapters will be more occlumency lessons, further efforts on Severus' part, to adjust his destructive tendency to anger swiftly, snooping and of course, further understanding between the two characters.
Severus could not deny that he had been momentarily stunned by Potter's admission that he had essentially been starving himself for several weeks. He simply could not fathom how the boy was even able to stand, let alone walk, in such a condition and was determined it would be rectified. He had already brewed a large supply of nutritive potions, and saw that he would now also need to produce a large quantity of stomach calming potions, to prevent the boy's body from rejecting the food he was given. It took great effort on his part to not express his fury at such an extreme lack of self preservation after the years others had devoted to protecting and, on occasion, saving the boy's life. Of course, at some level, he was fully cognisant of why the teen had lost his appetite initially, but he had yet to grasp why this phenomena had endured for such a long period of time. This confusion sat poorly with Severus, and thus he started to question the boy, determined to get at least some answers. Releasing Harry's chin, he took a step back and as was his habit, folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at the figure on the bed, eyes briefly sweeping over the wasted body before settling once more on the boy's face.
'With all due respect, Potter, just what, exactly, were you hoping to prove by starving yourself to death? Of course, I am assuming that was your ultimate purpose in this foolish disregard for your health', he tried to keep his voice level, but it was difficult to entirely mask old habits, and thus his words ended on an almost snarl.
Harry, for his part, dropped his head down and gazed with deadened eyes at his hands, which rested slackly on his knees. He could hear the anger in Snape's voice, of course he could, but for the life of him, he could not understand why the man would feel much of anything given he had never cared about him. He could only assume that it was all to appease Dumbledore... afterall, it would not look so good if Harry dropped dead while left in Snape's dubious care. He started picking at the loose skin at the edges of his fingernails, distractedly, as he considered how to answer the man when he wasn't even sure if he had truly wished to die or not. He had experienced moments when he had wanted desperately to not be here anymore and had experienced moments when, on impulse, he had acted on such thoughts, but did that truly count as a wish to die? With a sigh, his eyes still focused intently on his hands, he started to speak, softly and reluctantly,
'I wasn't trying to prove anything. I... I don't know if I wanted to die. I just wasn't hungry after Sirius', he whispered, breaking off abruptly to clear his throat, blinking away moisture in his eyes before continuing, 'after Sirius died. Then I felt... I mean, I didn't deserve it', he finished with a shrug, noticing that the edges of his nails were now reddened and slightly bloodied.
'Explain.', Severus said, more sharply than he had intended, unnerved by what the teen had said, 'What exactly do you mean when you say you did not deserve it? did not deserve what, Potter?'
Severus had not failed to notice the boy's extreme anxiety, his reticence to share anything regarding his emotions, his thoughts, his reasons. He had also not failed to notice the boy digging agitatedly at the skin of his fingers which although no concern initially, had now drawn blood. With reticence and a long suffering sigh, he sat down and reached out, separating Harry's hands and placing his own firmly on top of them to prevent further damage. The boy simply stared down at the Potion Master's larger hands for a few moments before colouring slightly and turning his head away, chewing on his lower lip instead. It was minutes before the child spoke again, and when he did, his voice was soft enough that Severus found himself leaning closer simply to make out the words.
'To eat', Harry whispered, his voice started to crack, 'I didn't deserve to eat.' He tensed his hands, trying to dislodge those resting on top, but Severus merely pressed down more firmly, vaguely considering the necessity of finding another outlet for the brat's anxiety.
'And why, pray tell, would you believe that, Potter?', Severus snapped, 'What great crime have you committed that forbids you a basic human need?'
It was then that the boy finally turned his head to look at him, eyes so haunted, so muted, that it was all Severus could do to not look away, lest he lose himself in that desolation. Long seconds passed and finally, Harry turned away, his eyes gazing into the distance sightlessly, as though seeing something no-one else could, some memory or vision. This time, when he spoke, his voice sounded hollow, as though he were simply relaying some cold, hard facts from an unexciting textbook.
'I killed Sirius. If it were not for me, he would still be alive. He cannot eat now. He cannot live now. So why should I?'
Although he was not entirely shocked by the boy's words, Severus knew that he had to somehow disavow Potter of the notion that he was entirely responsible for the death of Black. As much as he had detested the arrogant mutt and as foolish and impulsive as the boy's actions had been, he had little doubt in his mind that Black would have gotten himself killed at some point. The question now, was how to convince the boy to desist in his self destructive self-recrimination for long enough to see the truth of the matter. Severus was not a man who favoured sugar-coating the truth to appease the more tender hearted but in this instance, he felt the only way to reach Potter, would be to somehow convince him of his lack of culpability without entirely ignoring the fact he had grievously misjudged a situation. Leaning closer to the bed, he cleared his throat, hoping to get the teen's attention, but the boy remained oblivious, as though his mind were lost in some dark, distant place.
'Potter', he said in a soft but insistent voice, 'look at me.'
He watched, waiting for any sign that the boy had heard him, but Harry remained still and unresponsive, as though he were in some sort of a trance. With a long suffering sigh, Severus removed his hands from the boy's and took a hold of his chin, turning his head until they were face to face. The boy's eyes were unfocused, the green irises dull and lifeless, his face lacking any discernible emotion. Unnerved by the sight, Severus chose his words carefully, mindful that it would take very little to render the boy more unreachable than he already was.
'You listen to me Potter and you listen well', he started, his voice demanding attention, 'Black's death is not your responsibility. Whilst I cannot deny your poor judgement in regards to the false vision the Dark Lord delivered, a large part of the blame for that lays firmly at my feet. I... allowed my own prejudices to interfere with the task I had been given in teaching you to guard your mind.'
Harry heard the man speaking, but the words sounded distant and made no sense to him. How could Snape possibly not blame him, how could he not see that if Harry had not been so utterly stupid, his Godfather would still be alive? He had risked the lives of all his friends and why? Because he allowed his stupid emotions to take over and had not even considered that Hermione might have been right. He swallowed thickly and tried to pull away from the fingers gripping his chin, but they tightened to an almost painful grip, refusing to release.
Severus could see that his words were making little impact and had to bite back on an angry insult when the stubborn boy attempted to pull away. With renewed determination, he leaned in even closer, ignoring the slight flinch in the other as he did so.
'Potter, Black had every opportunity to preserve his miserable life. He was warned, not only by myself, but also by others, to remain at Headquarters but chose, predictably, to discard commonsense in favour of foolish Gryffindor impulsiveness. He was an adult with choices and unfortunately, he made the wrong choice.'
Harry could feel the anger rising up within him as Snape spoke, in spite of his efforts to bury all of his emotions into some hidden, unreachable place. How dare him describe Sirius' life as miserable when Snape himself had done all in his power to make sure his Godfather felt even more useless and ineffective than he already had done. If anything, he blamed Snape far more for this constant goading and belittling of Sirius than he did for his cruel efforts at teaching Harry Occlumency. He tried to swallow down the thick sense if injustice and grief, overshadowed only by his own sense of guilt, but to no avail, and as the man's words faded out, his own seemed to spill out, unchecked, unguarded.
'And what about your choices', Harry shouted, yanking his chin free of Severus' fingers, 'You're an adult too, but all you did was mock Sirius and remind him of how useless you thought he was. If you hadn't done that, I bet he would have listened and stayed where he was safe! Nothing you say will change the fact he's gone and that someone else died, because of me! My friends could have died too, but I was too fucking stupid to even think about that. I knew they would never let me go there alone but I still went... I should have found someone, I tried to tell you, but you didn't care!', he voice fell to a broken whisper, 'There's never anyone who listens.'
He dropped his head into his hands and pressed his fingers into his eyelids hard, trying to stop the tears that threatened to betray him again before muttering under his breath, 'I wish I'd never been born. Then everyone else would still be alive'.
Severus had seen the warning signs, the sudden tension in the boy's shoulders, the tightening of his jaw beneath his fingers and a palpable anger that seemed to emanate from Potter's very pores, but had still been unprepared for the torrent of words that spewed from the teen's mouth. As much as he resented being yelled at and as much as he wanted to give the boy a teeth rattling shake, he could not deny that there was truth to the words. He had indeed baited Black with the immaturity of his teenaged self, and taken great pleasure in doing so, but as much as he had loathed the man, he had not desired his death. It was not true, however, that he had not responded to Potter's garbled, coded warning nor to the boy's disappearance soon after. In fact, he had spent a great deal of time searching the Forbidden forest for Potter, resentful that he was unable, for obvious reasons, to join the other Order members at the Ministry. For a brief moment, he rubbed at his own eyes, trying to clear his head, trying to come up with something, anything, to relieve the boy's self recrimination. But more importantly, He needed to know if Potter's wish to have never been born amounted to the same thing as a desire to no longer be alive. He needed to find out if the boy still had as strong a desire to self destruct as he had prior to being removed from his 'home'.
'Has it escaped your notice, Potter, that if you had not been born, The Dark Lord would most likely be in full power as we speak?', Snape murmured, 'Had he not attempted to kill you, had his curse not failed, the war would have raged on, with no respite?'
Bracing his hands on his knees, he leaned forward again, making no effort to force Harry to look at him this time.
'You flatter yourself, Potter, in believing that you are entirely responsible for every death in your vicinity. Have you once considered that those death's were the responsibility of those who were entrusted with keeping you safe until such a time as you were old enough to live up to the ridiculously elevated expectations placed upon you? I cannot deny that I may have played some small role in Black's unfortunate demise, but he was not unaccustomed to the animosity that lay between us and was perfectly capable of ignoring it. In short, Potter, he gave as good as he got and was already immersed in his inferiority complex long before I uttered a word'
The words drifted over Harry's head, barely registering through the thick fog of grief that seemed to have settled over him, like a dusty blanket. It wasn't a time when he could fully consider the logic of Snape's speech, not in his current state of mind, though he had no doubt he would at some point find himself considering what was being said. All he knew was that he was very tired and confused and that confusion in itself left him wanting to bang his head against a wall, simply to shut it all out. He pressed harder on his eyelids then started pulling at his unruly hair, desperately willing the man to stop talking, to leave before he fell to pieces again.
Severus, noting the boy's distress, but knowing he needed to finish this conversation, reached out and snatched Harry's hands away from the messy hair, holding them firmly in his own before continuing.
'Your friends, similarly made their own choices and unfortunately, nothing you say or do will change the fact that they will wish to remain by your side during the times ahead, regardless the risk to their own lives. Even were you to cast them off and refuse their friendship, the risk to their lives would not be much diminished and as loathe as I am to admit it, you are as entitled to friends as anyone else in the school. You did not ask to be marked as the Dark Lord's equal and as much of a burden as it is, you still have a life to live, Potter. To give up on your life now will not bring back those who are gone and would be a great disservice to your parents and to the many others who have lost their lives in both this war and the last.'
Severus watched and waited for any reaction from the boy, maintaining his hold on the hands that remained rigid im his own, until he was sure they would not be used to further cause damage. Harry kept his eyes closed, as though opening them might release the emotions he was so desperately trying to stuff away out of sight, unwilling to show them to Snape. He knew that he was expected to respond in some way but his thoughts seemed so jumbled up and as hard as he was trying, no words seemed to be forming. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, what the man wanted from him and more to the point, he didn't understand why Snape even cared at all about his feelings. He reminded himself that it wasn't because he cared; it was because the man was as much a tool of Dumbledore's as Harry himself was and with his past, he couldn't very well risk disobeying a direct order. Finally opening his eyes, he turned his head and stared for a moment at the strange sight of Snape's large hands enclosing his own before lifting his gaze to the man himself, meeting dark eyes that for once, were not spearing him with malice. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but losing his nerve, closed it again, frustration scratching at his insides as he tried to find his voice. It did not go unnoticed and biting back an irritated scowl, Severus tried to draw the boy out of his anxiety driven silence.
'Contrary to popular belief, I do not bite, Potter. Whatever you were about to say, I suggest you say it now. If you have a question, then ask your question. Silence will get us nowhere.'
Harry bit his lip nervously, wishing for all the world that Snape would release his hands so he had something to focus on, unsure and afraid of the response his question elicit, yet wanting desperately to ask it. Finally, turning his gaze to the wall, unable to speak with the man staring into his eyes, he spoke, softly and hesitantly.
'Why do you even care? No offence but you hate me.', he shrugged, 'Though I suppose you have to really, since Dumbledore asked you to. Same as I have to do everything I'm asked to do'
Severus watched as the boy shrugged despondently and considered carefully how he should respond, given they were to spend the next months together. If he agreed that his change in perspective were purely down to a sense of duty to Albus, then it was more likely Potter would keep his walls firmly in place, feeling it pointless to open up to anyone. As loath as he was to admit it, giving the boy some knowledge of the other reasons he had protected him all these years and of why he had some investment in the teen's welfare, could work to his advantage and make teaching him infinitely simpler. Over the past few days, he had found himself revisiting Lily's letter many times in his mind, the words returning unbidden to claw at his conscience and along with Albus' words, they forced him to reconsider all he had assumed about Potter. Discovering that the boy had been abused had simply been another nail in the coffin of his preconceived notions and as hard as he had tried to retain the familiar and comfortable blinkers, he was finding it almost impossible to loathe the brat now. For the first time since the small boy had first appeared in the Great Hall, taunting Severus with his likeness to Potter senior, he found himself reining in his usual angry responses. He had a sneaking suspicion that by the time this wretched Summer was over, he would have a punctured tongue to show for his efforts, as often as he was having to bite it. With a sense of resignation, he finally turned away from the boy, eyes glancing briefly towards the photo album on the desk before settling on some point in the corner of the room.
'Let's get one thing straight here and now, Potter. I do not now and never have 'hated' you. I will not deny that you did not endear yourself to me with your reckless ways and your obstinacy, but an emotion such as Hatred is reserved for those far more deserving of it.', Severus paused a moment, considering his next words carefully. 'Given what you discovered in my Pensieve just recently, I do not think I need explain to the mutual animosity that lay between myself and your father and I can make little excuse for my having extended that same animosity towards his son...you, beyond the fact that you have inherited some of his less desirable traits'
Although slightly surprised at the man's admission of not hating him, Harry found that surprise overridden by frustration at the words that followed. He was tired of being compared to his father. Barely a week had gone by since his entry into the Wizarding world, when he had not been compared to his dad, a man he had never even known, and he bitterly resented being known more for that and his survival of an event he didn't even recall, than for anything he had ever achieved simply by his own merit...as Harry. It was little comfort to know that just as everyone else's fawning admiration was based on his parentage, so too was Snape's persistent loathing.
'I am not my dad', he said in a low voice, eyes still fixed to the wall, 'and I am sick of everyone comparing me to him and going on about how I did some amazing feat before I was even old enough to know it', his voice rose until he was almost shouting, 'I am sick of people loving me or hating me just because of a man I never even met or knew. I am Harry and I wish more and more that I had never been born a Potter as then maybe people might see me, and not the echo of someone else'
Harry stopped speaking then and tried, again, to pull his hands free, desperate to create some space between himself and the dark man whose equally dark gaze was directed elsewhere. Severus, noticing the movement, turned his eyes back to the boy who was still staring at the wall with an intense focus, although from his features, it was clear he was fighting to rein in his anger. With a heavy sigh, he released Harry's hands and folded his arms across his chest as though in doing so, he could somehow still his heart, which was beating rapidly in anticipation of the conversation to come. In truth, he was reluctant to share details of his closely guarded past with the Potter boy, aware as he was that the child would no doubt bombard him with questions, but if he considered it, who else had more right to covet such information than Lily's son?
Rising to his feet, he swept across the room and after a moment's hesitation, took the boy's photo album from the desk and glanced down at the open page. Lily and Potter stood side by side, Harry cradled in his mother's arms, asleep, as James gazed at her with unconcealed adoration. The same sentiment was not entirely reflected in his wife's eyes and the tinge of sadness misting the green was unmistakable as she glanced up from her sleeping child. Swallowing thickly, Severus made his way back over to the bed and sat down heavily, the album coming to rest on his knees as Harry turned to stare at him, a mixture of confusion and anger crossing his face unguardedly. Clearing his throat and swallowing the lump that seemed to have taken root there, Severus continued to gaze down at the album as he finally revealed to the boy why his protection of him lay beyond his duty to Albus, before the boy had a chance to speak out.
'Contrary to your beliefs, Potter, the Headmaster, as much control as he has over me, is not the main reason my current...role...in your life', he said in a rougher voice than he had intended, 'He is not the only one to whom I promised your protection.'
At this, Harry looked up from the photo album laying in the man's lap, his eyes now holding an echo of curiosity as well as the anger that seemed to have diminished slightly as he listened. There was something in Snape's voice, his demeanour, that was very different to anything he had noticed in the man before and if Harry didn't know better, he would have said it was some semblance of emotion. Snape's eyes glittered strangely as he continued to speak and Harry found himself transfixed by the sight, unaccustomed as he was to seeing anything beyond cold loathing in their inky depths.
'I knew your mother, Potter', Severus said, his eyes still transfixed to the photographically animated Lily resting in his lap, 'We met as children', he said, then quickly added 'before Hogwarts'. He paused for a few moments, carefully considering his next words. 'We were friends until...that moment that I have no doubt you viewed when you chose to invade my privacy last year'. He finally raised his eyes to look at the boy on the bed, black meeting green as he carefully closed the album, placing it on the side table beside his chair. 'It is for her that I have sought to protect you from both yourself and others, Potter, and it is for her that I will continue to do so, as irritating as the task may prove to be'.
There was an uncomfortable silence as Harry tried to process what he had heard and Severus battled to rein in his emotions to pull his habitual blank mask down over his features. For his part, Harry was struggling intensely to imagine his beautiful mother ever having been friends with someone so different to herself as to be almost a completely opposite in both looks and personality. What could they possibly have had in common, besides their magic, and how could they have known each other before they even went to Hogwarts? How had they met? His head was so full of questions, but they all seemed to be tangled together in a headache inducing mass and he found he could give voice to none of them. The more he thought about it, though, the more angry he seemed to become. All these years the man had treated Harry like a piece of crap on the bottom of his shoe, in spite of having known his mother, in spite of having been her friend. Surely that friendship should have overidden the animosity he felt towards Harry's father, especially as the man's expressions whilst telling Harry this suggested they had been close. All he could think of was how different things might have been if Snape had seen Harry's mother rather than his father when he had looked at him; afterall, others had regularly commented on how he had her eyes.
Severus sat and watched the boy's face intently as a myriad of emotions crossed his features, wondering what thoughts lay behind them. There were any number of ways in which Potter might take the revelations just bestowed on him but knowing how intensely the child disliked him, he had little doubt the reaction would not be positive. He was soon proven correct when sudden anger blazed across the green of the boy's eyes, replacing the confusion that had been there mere moments before as the teen pulled himself up into a full sitting position, hands clenching convulsively in his lap. Severus glanced down briefly at the hands, if only to avoid the angry stare for a few seconds, then returned his eyes to Harry who had shifted slightly away across the bed, creating physical distance, as though afraid he might hit his professor if too close.
'You bastard', Harry said in trembling voice, 'All these years you've treated me like a piece of shit and now you tell me you were friends with my mother? I suppose you conveniently managed to forget that all the times you were humiliating me in classes and giving me detentions for things I didn't even do, right? I suppose my mum can't have meant all that much to you if you could treat her son like garbage', he spat, 'Guess you weren't much of a friend, right?'
For all his intents on maintaining control of his own emotions, Severus was on his feet and hovering over the bed in an instant, fury shadowing his face as anger coursed through his veins at the boy's insinuations. How dare the insolent brat presume to have any concept of the nature of the friendship he had shared with Lily, muddying it with his spiteful words and assumptions it had been meaningless. How dare Potter speak to him in that manner, in his own home, when he had taken such pains over the last days to change his perception of the boy and restrain his usual harsh responses to the idiot child's foolish impulsiveness.
'Why, you insolent. stupid boy', he hissed, 'You dare to presume any knowledge about my friendship with your mother, a woman you never even knew? I can guarantee you this, Potter, were she to see the unfortunate way you have turned out, she would be ashamed to call you her son; she was worth a thousand of you', he hovered closer, breathing harshly as he leaned over the bed, his vision misted under the onslaught of renewed loathing, 'You are everything that she was not, yet you wonder how it was that unlike so many of your fawning admirers, I could treat you like the selfish, arrogant little boy you truly are?'
Harry instinctively froze as Snape loomed closer, finding himself unable to look away as spittle flew from the man's mouth along with the torrent of hateful words. He could not recall a time he had seen such fury on the man's face and coupled with the narrowed eyes which had darkened to an inky black, he looked positively deranged. Although the man could by no means be accused of having shown true kindness over the previous few days, Harry had found himself feeling less threatened than he had previously, led into a false sense of security by the care that had been taken of him when he was sick. There was no denying that the man had offered some semblance of comfort during Harry's earlier breakdown nor that he had obviously been trying to treat him slightly better, but all of that faded into the background in the present moment. There was no doubt in his mind that this version of Snape would have no qualms about striking Harry, as the face looming closer seemed to morph into the memory of his uncle during one of their many altercations. He could not even open his mouth to defend himself against the cruel insults as fear totally stilled his voice and he cowered away, lifting his arms up to shield his face against any potential blows, his entire body rigid with anticipation.
