CHAPTER 9
Confessions
The first snowfall of the year arrived, and with it the first Hogsmeade weekend. Hermione planned to do some of her Christmas shopping in the wizarding village this year and could be seen making furtive notations in a small notebook whenever a gift idea occurred to her.
Ron was rather glum about the prospect of going to town as he was currently without pocket money. Harry, searching for a solution that wouldn't offend Ron's pride, pestered him until he agreed to sell his wizard chess game for the handsome price of twenty Galleons. Then, happily unaware of Harry's ulterior motive, Ron, too, began to get into the spirit of the outing.
Harry traditionally exchanged gifts with Ron and Hermione at Christmas, but never with the Dursleys. He was rather looking forward to seeing round the Hogsmeade shops for a change this year, thinking he might buy something for Professor Lovejoy. He still couldn't quite get used to the idea of calling her Aunt Trillium, but she had laughed and said that at least during school, while he was her student, it was probably as well to call her Professor Lovejoy, thus avoiding any appearance of favoritism.
On Saturday morning Mr Filch stood by the main entrance of the castle checking off permission slips as the students filed out. Only third year students and above, with slips properly signed by a parent or guardian, were allowed to leave the school. Harry had been prevented from going to Hogsmeade during his third year for the simple reason that Uncle Vernon refused, purely out of spite, to sign a permission slip. Harry had appealed to Professor McGonagall as his Head of House, but she was unable to countermand the school's strict policy, despite her sympathy with Harry's situation. After he had gotten to know his godfather, Sirius Black--the friend who Harry's parents had originally intended as his guardian should anything happen to them--Sirius had signed for Harry in his fourth and fifth years. This year he had cadged a signature out of Uncle Vernon during a rare moment when he was preoccupied with something else and not paying attention.
Snape, crossing the entrance hall, saw Professor Lovejoy approach from the opposite direction and stop to wave merrily to the last few students as they left. His footsteps slowed. She turned with a smile still on her face and saw him.
"Severus!" she exclaimed, coming over to where he stood. "Not going to Hogsmeade today? No Christmas shopping to do?"
"No," Snape replied shortly. "And you--have you no friends to meet, no--" he waggled his fingers at her-- "fripperies to buy?" He casually plucked at an invisible piece of lint on his robe.
"Oh--no," she said. "I'm rather looking forward to having a day to myself. No essays to grade, no errands to run--no obligations at all, really." She looked fixedly at him. "In fact," she continued, "I have the whole day free. What about you? I suppose you have lots to do."
"Well, I--not really--er, I mean, yes. There are the potions from this week to test and grade. And I should catch up on my, er, reading." His reading? he thought. Where had that come from?
"Ah. I see. Well, then, I'd better let you get to it," Professor Lovejoy said brightly. "So you'll...be in your office all day?"
"Yes. My office. Right," said Snape. He thought of her office, with its inviting chairs and a fire that, not being in the dungeons as his was, actually warmed the room. "And you?" he inquired stiffly, wondering how to break off this ghastly, stilted conversation. "You'll be in your office also, I presume?"
"Oh yes. All afternoon," she confirmed. "Well, see you at dinner then, I suppose."
"Dinner, yes. Presumably so," Snape said inanely. They nodded to each other and continued on their respective ways, Snape toward the dungeon stairway and Professor Lovejoy up the main staircase to her office.
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Professor Lovejoy started a fire in her fireplace with a flick of her wand. Then she went to her desk and opened a small package that had arrived two days ago by owl post. It was a new book she had saved as a special treat for today, called Rise and Fall of the Pendragon: A Personal Account. Written by a minor courtier in King Arthur's court, the manuscript had only recently been rescued from an enchantment hiding it from mortal eyes; and the enterprising witch who had accomplished this feat had published it. It was reportedly full of deliciously wicked royal gossip and scandals from the days of Arthur's court--in other words, it was purely frivolous and not the least bit educational. She sighed contentedly and sank onto the sofa, kicked off her boots, and tucked her feet beneath her in her favorite lounging position. She spared a thought for Snape--what was he doing right now, all alone in his dungeon? Then she happily gave herself up to her book.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Snape surveyed his desk, where a dozen vials of that week's assigned potion were neatly lined up awaiting testing and grading. He didn't want to test or grade. He felt restless, but he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't have a hobby; he didn't feel like reading. He wanted...human companionship. And not just any human.
Without stopping to think about what he was doing, he turned around and walked back out of his office and up to the main hall. No one was about. He continued on up the main staircase and down the corridor to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Bright light reflecting off the snow lightened the side of the room by the windows, but the rest was in shadow. Firelight shone from the office doorway above.
Snape paused for a brief moment, then swept to the front of the room and up the short flight of stairs. He halted abruptly just inside the office door. Professor Lovejoy looked up from her book, startled by his unceremonious entry.
The moment stretched out, frozen in time. Snape gazed at her lovely face, lit by the fire, her warm eyes questioning. She looked at him and saw a face pinched with the pain of uncertainty, eyes with the fire of hope still faintly burning, all but extinguished.
Finally, Snape blurted, "You--are Harry Potter's aunt?" He couldn't help himself. It wasn't what he had intended to say at all.
Professor Lovejoy smiled faintly. "Ah. So you were our eavesdropper." She patted the sofa invitingly. "Well, now that you're here, won't you sit down?"
"I--no," he replied. "Thank you," he added belatedly. "I must speak with you. There is so much--I need--" He broke off in frustration, not knowing where to start. Professor Lovejoy decided to rescue him.
"You are unclear in your mind about something, is that it?" she asked. Snape gazed at her a moment, then jerked his head in an annoyed nod.
"And it has to do with Harry?" she prompted.
Snape paced back and forth in the small space before the desk. He shook his head repeatedly as if trying to get rid of an unpleasant thought. If his face was any indication, his mind was in some agony. Finally he stopped pacing and faced her.
"How can you?" he demanded. "How can you be related to that--that--" Words failed him. He pounded the back of the armchair in frustration.
Professor Lovejoy put her book down on a small table. "That what?" she asked. She sounded curious, not judgmental as Snape would have expected.
"Potter," he spat. "That insufferable, egotistical, arrogant brat. It can't be. It simply can't be. Are you absolutely certain of this?"
Professor Lovejoy regarded him with troubled eyes.
"Yes, absolutely," she assured him. "I've known Lily was my sister ever since I was old enough to understand when my father explained the whole story to me. Why does this distress you so much, Severus?
"And why do you call Harry egotistical and arrogant? I must say I've never seen any sign of either of those traits in him. He can't help being who he is, you know. I suppose knowing of Lord Voldemort's interest in him--if you want to call it that--might give him a certain sense of being set apart from other people at times, but certainly not in a good way. He is very well liked, as anyone can see, but Severus, he is a likeable person. He's loyal to his friends and to Dumbledore. He never invites praise, nor does he revel in it. Well, I suppose he might--just a little, and justifiably--when his team wins a Quidditch match or something like that.
"But think of his life, Severus. Living with those dreadful Muggles. They shut him away in a cupboard! He lived in a cupboard beneath their front stairs for the first ten years of his life. From what Arthur Weasley says, they never give him a kind word--in fact his uncle was more or less using Harry as unpaid slave labor all last summer. Is it to be wondered at that Harry should enjoy a taste of normal life, and having friends and people who love him?"
Snape stared in astonishment at her impassioned defense of Harry. She looked a bit surprised herself and stared back, eyes flashing, bosom heaving. His feet started toward her of their own accord. Intent on what he was doing, he almost missed her next question.
"Why do you dislike Harry so much, Severus? There must be some reason. What is there between you that causes you to have such strong feelings toward him?"
The question brought him up short. He didn't answer, just continued to look at her with those tormented eyes. Finding himself in front of the armchair, he dropped into it, his legs shaking with some strong emotion he couldn't name.
Professor Lovejoy said, "You know, Severus, I was several years behind you at Hogwarts. By the time I got here you'd been gone for five or six years--you and Lily and James--but the stories about all of you were still alive and well." Snape's eyes flew to her face. She nodded, eyebrows raised delicately.
"Yes, I thought that would get your attention," she said. "I lived to hear those stories. They were the only way I had of finding out anything about Lily's life, you see. I heard a lot of things about her and James that I liked. In many ways she seemed like she could have been the ideal older sister. But I also heard things that weren't so nice about James and his select little group of friends. Even about Lily. And you, Severus."
Snape looked away. He couldn't bear to see the compassion in her eyes.
"I believe there are two opposing sides to every person," she said. "Or to most people, anyway. When there is only one side, a person ends up like Voldemort--or as a saint, I suppose. In James' case I don't think his better side came out until Lily became indisputably his. It's like he needed her influence to become a better person. I understand that most of the time he was at Hogwarts James was an 'insufferable, egotistical, arrogant brat'." She smiled faintly as she repeated Snape's words back to him. "I also understand that you in particular were very ill-used by him."
Snape didn't say anything. His eyes were on the fire, but she could see that his gaze had turned inward and he was looking back over the years to his miserable youth.
"You were in love with Lily, weren't you?" Professor Lovejoy asked. Snape looked at her, his anguish at having to relive the emotions of the past evident. He opened his mouth, but said nothing.
"And James got her. James, who already had everything--parents who loved him, talent at games, friends, top marks in school. And then he got Lily, too. Arrogant, egotistical James." She leaned forward. "Not Harry, Severus. James." She stopped, waited.
"Yes," he said at last, bitterly. "I did love her. I would have done anything for her. But she never noticed me, never even saw me. She never saw anyone but him. And he never appreciated her true worth. Everything came to him so easily. Including--Lily." He said her name in a choked voice.
"And then he went and got her killed. Messing about with the Order of the Phoenix, playing at being Aurors. She had no business getting involved with that lot. I suppose Potter thought he could just snap his fingers and deliver up the Dark Lord to the Ministry, the way everything else was so easy for him. And look where it got them. Dead. For nothing! The Dark Lord still lives. She's gone. She sacrificed her life, and for what? For what?" he demanded.
"For love, of course, Severus. When all is said and done, love is the most powerful magic that exists. It's the only reason Harry survived. Lily's love shielded him from Voldemort's curse."
Snape's gaze flicked back to the fire. He shook his head, unwilling to be convinced. He had held on to the old grudge for so long that it seemed a part of him. Must he give that up as well? Professor Lovejoy watched him struggle. She knew what it was to give up long-held ideals. Part of her felt sorry for him, but part of her wanted to shake him out of his melancholy. Something of this must have shown in her eyes, and when Snape looked at her, he tensed warily.
"I heard a very interesting story recently," Professor Lovejoy said casually. "About a certain Quidditch match in Harry's first year. Something about you...saving his life?"
There was an indignant snort from the armchair. "I would have done the same for any student," Snape said stiffly. "I knew there was something wrong with Quirrell. It was too much of a coincidence that Potter happened to fall off his broomstick at the precise moment when Quirrell started chanting. It was my duty as a teacher," he stressed, "to look after the welfare of a student in trouble."
Professor Lovejoy gazed at him in amusement. What a very stubborn man you are, she thought. Duty, indeed. Aloud she said, "Harry is a good boy, Severus. A good person. He's not his father. He tries very hard to do the right thing. You really can't see that?"
Snape shrugged. He had no desire to be tricked into saying something he'd regret later.
"And he tries so hard to please you," she went on, laughing at his openly disbelieving look. "Oh yes, he does," she said. "I've heard him studying with Ron in the library. Harry's determined to do well in your class in spite of your opinion of him."
"He's determined to best me, you mean," Snape muttered. "Potter detests me, you know." He seemed to feel that this justified his own attitude toward Harry.
"You are a teacher, Severus. Harry is your student. Why do you see his doing well in your class as a contest to be won or lost? If he does poorly, I should think you both have lost," said Professor Lovejoy in exasperation. "You're acting as if he's some sort of rival or something. But he's not, is he? What exactly is it about Harry that puts you on the defensive?"
"I'm not being defensive," Snape countered, stung.
"But you are. Don't you see?" She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "Do you remember the first time you met Harry?" Snape rolled his eyes and didn't answer. "Humor me, Severus," she said impatiently. "When was it?"
He sighed heavily. "At the welcome feast, I suppose."
"His first year?"
"Yes."
"Well, did Harry do something in particular to earn your dislike at the feast?" Professor Lovejoy prodded.
Snape sulked, resentful. "No."
"When did you see him after that?"
"In my classroom the next day."
"And? Come on, Severus, talk to me. Was he cheeky in class or something?"
Goaded into replying, Snape had to admit Harry had not, in fact, done anything he could specifically recall that was out of the ordinary.
"You know what I think?" Professor Lovejoy said.
Snape gave her a look. "No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me," he said sarcastically.
"I think from the first moment you looked at Harry, you saw James," she said. "I've seen pictures of James when he was Harry's age, and there's a striking resemblance. And I think seeing him brought back all those old, miserable memories you'd been trying to forget for so long. But Harry's done nothing wrong, Severus--you've said so yourself. Don't you think it's time you saw him as just himself and stop hating him? He's done nothing to deserve your hatred, after all."
"He shows me no respect," Snape muttered.
"Well, consider it from Harry's point of view. For goodness' sake, Severus--ever since he met you you've shown that you hate him. What kind of reaction did you expect?
Snape said something inaudible.
"What?" she said.
"I said," he repeated more clearly, "he spied on my thoughts--in my Pensieve, when I was attempting to teach him Occlumency last year."
Professor Lovejoy shook her head, not entirely understanding. "Well, I suppose he might have hoped to find some clue as to what makes you tick--or why you dislike him so. What did he see?"
Snape was not about to reveal the deep humiliation he had experienced at the hands of Harry's father on the occasion in question.
"Suffice to say it was not a pleasant memory," he muttered.
"Was James involved?"
Tersely, "Yes."
"And some of his friends?"
"Yes."
"And...Lily?"
"Afraid so."
"Ah. I see." Actually, Snape hoped she didn't see and never would. It had been bad enough having Harry view Snape's memory of his humiliation at the hands of James Potter without having Trillium Lovejoy know all the gory details as well.
They sat quietly by the fire for a time, absorbed in their own thoughts. After a while, Professor Lovejoy chuckled. She rose and reached for the poker, toying with the logs in the fire.
"What?" Snape asked lazily. He felt more at ease than he had for weeks. Maybe there was something to confession after all.
"You surprised me when you came charging in here," she said. "I'd hoped you would come, but not to talk about Harry."
Snape looked over at her. "Oh?"
"I rather thought you might be interested in exploring...our relationship," she said, and met his eyes squarely. "Perhaps beginning with where we left off that day at the lake." Snape simply watched her. She colored under his steady gaze. "Unless, of course, you'd rather forget it happened." When he still said nothing, she dropped her gaze and turned back to the fireplace. Obviously it had been a mistake to bring it up in the first place. Maybe he just wasn't interested.
A warm touch on her shoulder surprised her. She hadn't heard him get up. Snape turned her to face him. There was a look on his face she had never thought to see there. Could it be tenderness? And he was smiling.
"Trillium," he said gently. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day. Not once. I tried to remind myself what an infernal pest you are--" she shook with silent laughter-- "but all I could think about was the feel of you in my arms, and I had to find out if I'd just imagined it all." He touched her face gently. "But this seems...familiar." He kissed her softly. "And this."
Professor Lovejoy breathed his name and put her arms around his neck. "Again," she whispered. He obliged her.
They stood there for a long time, tightly entwined, reluctant to break contact and let the world intrude on this fragile new thing between them.
Finally, prosaically, they had to come up for air. But their eyes couldn't get enough of each other. Fingertips touched wondering faces and were kissed in their turn.
Snape murmured, "What is happening to me?"
Professor Lovejoy laid her head on his chest. "I think that ice you've kept round your heart so carefully is thawing." She felt him stiffen and lifted her head to look at him. Some of the chill had returned to his face. "What is it?"
Snape made as if to pull away, but she wouldn't let him go. "No. Stay right here and tell me what's wrong. Don't run away again."
He said, "That 'ice,' as you call it, is there for a very good reason. It's there to remind me that no matter how much I may want this--want you--I can't have you. I'm not the sort of man who has friends. Or loved ones." A look of pain crossed his face as he said it. "I made my choice long ago. It was a poor one, and I shall have to pay for it eventually. But I'm damned if I'll drag you down with me."
He pulled her arms from around him and held both of her hands for a moment, then kissed each of them and let her go. She felt bereft. She could see him rebuilding the layers of coldness right before her eyes.
"I shouldn't have come," he said quietly, and turned toward the door.
"Severus!"
He was angry with himself for wanting her so badly, but her cry wrung his heart and he stopped in his tracks, his back to her, not saying anything.
"Severus, don't you trust me?" she whispered. He turned. Shocked, he saw that tears were rolling down the cheeks he had stroked only moments before. He had done this to her.
"Trust you?" he repeated. "Why do you ask me that?"
"I think you don't trust me to stand by you," she said. "Or to know my own mind, perhaps. Well, I do. I know what I feel for you, Severus. Shall I tell you?"
"Please don't," he said through gritted teeth.
"It's love. I love you, Severus. And I--I think you love me. Why can't you just let it happen?"
"Oh, for--" he said, taking out his anger at himself on her. He pulled back the sleeve of his robe and peeled back the cuff of the black sweater he wore beneath. Marching back over to her, he shoved his wrist in front of her face.
"There!" he cried. "That is why I can't just 'let it happen'."
Professor Lovejoy's eyes were drawn to an odd purple mark on his wrist. Then she realized she was seeing it upside down, and she knew what it was. Her eyes flew to his.
"The Dark Mark," she breathed. Snape jerked his cuff back down, scowling.
"That is why nothing can happen between us," he said bitterly. "I suppose you could say I'm...not exactly a free man. Someday he will come looking for me. Me and a few others, I expect. Rounding up his strays. He knows I've betrayed him. When he finds me he'll be able to see everything in my mind and in my heart." His face turned tender for just a moment. "I'll not have him find you there, Trillium. He would delight in torturing you to punish me before he killed us both. If I gave in to love, I'd never be able to protect you from him. It's not you I don't trust, Trillium. It's me. There is no way to guard against the Dark Lord's probing except to keep you out of my heart." He looked forlorn. "I fear I may already be too late."
Professor Lovejoy knew the anguish in his eyes was mirrored in her own. "I know it's too late for me," she said.
Snape shook his head. "Then we must both try harder," he said. He turned, and this time he left.
She waited until she had heard him walk across the classroom and close the door behind him before collapsing onto the old sofa and giving in to a good bout of tears. She thought her heart might be breaking.
Snape knew his was.