CHAPTER 20
Snape felt completely drained and bone-weary when his eyelids fluttered open sometime later. The dimly lit torches in his bedroom made his head give a painful throb, and he groaned as he slammed his eyes shut against the unwelcome intrusion on his battered body. As he gingerly placed a forearm over his eyelids, he attempted to ignore the fact that the appendage felt as heavy as an elephant. Or is it that I'm as weak as a kitten?
"Dad…?"
"Hmmph?" he answered groggily, refusing – alright, unable – to move his arm.
"You're awake!" He heard Harry sigh, the relief in the boy's voice palpable. "Lily said you'd be fine, but I was still kind of…" His son's words died away. "She said you might be in pain when you woke up. Hold on, I'll get her."
Snape only grunted in response.
Lily hurried in a few moments later. "Here, Sev," she murmured, pressing a small vile to his lips. The swiftness with which he swallowed the unknown potion spoke volumes of his trust for her, for he knew he'd never take a potion sight-unseen from any other witch or wizard.
The moment the sickly-sweet liquid touched his tongue, however, he knew he'd spoken too soon…
"Slytherin's saggy left tit!" He choked, attempting not to swallow the liquid. But his horizontal position opposed him, and gravity forced most of it down his throat against his will. He recognized the taste as the strongest migraine draught he had within his own medicine cabinet, which he kept on hand for use after especially rough meetings with the Dark Lord. This potion was only to be taken at the direst of times. And it was meant to be taken alone,especially since the combination of ingredients was… technically… illegal.
The reason for this illegality became apparent only seconds later, as the instant pain relief combined with a giddy euphoria made Snape feel – as the Muggle's termed it – high as a god damned kite.
A languid, somewhat goofy grin spread slowly across his lips as he blinked his eyes and focused his bleary gaze on the beautiful woman perched on the bed beside him.
"'Ello, lovely," he drawled drunkenly, reaching up to run the ends of her fiery hair through his fingertips. The grin disappeared as his shrunken attention span was snagged by the veins of gold reflected throughout her tresses. "Yer hair is so soft," he blurted, unable to stop rubbing the long, silky locks between his fingers.
"Thank you," Lily replied, attempting not to laugh. To her credit, she sat perfectly still as she allowed him to rub up against her like some ridiculous, inexperienced schoolboy. "I see the kratom has taken effect."
"Hmm? Oh – yeah. M'migraines gone. Poof, vanish'd jus' like tha'."
"Just like that, huh?" Lily asked, trying hard to stifle her amusement.
"Yer the healer. Ye' should know tha' kratom is a natural pain relief-er."
"It's also a Schedule One herb, which makes it a popular street drug – and highly illegal," she responded, unable to suppress a giggle at his slurring. "But exhausting one's core with elemental magic can be incredibly painful, so in this case, I'll make an excep– Severus, are you even listening to me?"
"Hmm?" he asked, now firmly entranced with the intricate pattern of her loose shirt, which she hadn't bothered to change out of after the therapy session. With wide, pupil-dilated eyes, his fingers began to follow the flowing design over her breasts. She immediately swatted his hand away with a bemused expression.
"Harry," she called, her gaze still on Snape.
The boy immediately popped his head around the corner. "Yeah?"
"Does your father have anything to eat in his cupboards? Preferably something acidic to cut through the effects of this…um… medication?"
For some unknown reason Snape found her delicate inflection hilarious. "Yeah, my 'medication'," Snape laughed, sounding even to his own ears like some sort of hyena. The unintentional, pig-like snort that escaped made him laugh even harder, as did the stunned, wide-eyed looks plastered across his family's faces.
Harry shot an incredulous look at Lily, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "Did he just… giggle?"
The question caused Snape to explode with another fit of unmanly titters, and Lily raised a very Snape-like eyebrow before addressing Harry again. "I think you better hurry with that food, love."
As his son disappeared around the corner, Snape was able to get himself better under control. "D'ye think Harry knows m'higher than a giraffe's ass?" he whispered in a conspiratorial undertone.
Lily paused, her lips twitching at the corners. "He does now."
"Whaddoyoo mean?" Snape murmured softly.
"Severus," she laughed, tears starting to build in her eyes at the absurdity of the situation, "you're shouting at me."
Unabashed laughter echoed from the kitchen as Harry mimicked, "Higher than a giraffe's ass! Merlin's balls, this is fantastic!"
"Language, both of you," Lily admonished, still chuckling as she shook her head.
"Nothing but bare cupboards and coffee," Harry explained in a chipper tone as he sauntered back into the room.
"Don't sound too happy about it," Lily teased with a sideways look at Snape.
"Can you blame me? A chance like this only comes around once a millennium, and I definitely want to be–"
"If y'wannabe my lov-a, you gotta get w'my friends–"
Harry and Lily stopped cold as their heads whipped around to stare openmouthed at Snape. His son looked gleefully aghast. "Is he–?"
"Make it las' forever–"
"Oh my God, you're not seriously singing–?!"
"FRIENDSHIP NEV-A EEEENDS!"
Harry turned to Lily with a broad, rapturous grin and announced through sudden gut-wrenching laughter, "He's… he's singing the Spice Girls!"
"Do ye think I'm no' ace enough t'keep up w'Britain's most talented musi-chins?" Snape drawled proudly. His hand snaked out with unexpected speed and snatched Lily around the waist, who gave a small yelp as he dragged her up against his chest and began crooning another of their hits. "I need some love like I never needed love before, wanna make love to ya baby–"
"And on thatdisturbing note," Harry muttered, his laughter dying abruptly as he spun on his heel to escape the room. "I'm going to get some food from the house elves."
"Good idea!" Lily chuckled as she disentangled herself from Snape's embrace. "As for you – stay here while I help order dinner." She gave an affectionate eye-roll as Snape pouted up at her. But after a quick look over her shoulder, Lily bestowed him with a heady kiss and a wink before hurrying out to help Harry.
Not long afterward, a heavy meal arrived consisting of hearty beef stew with large chunky vegetables, complete with thick slices of sourdough bread for dipping, and freshly squeezed lemonade – with minimal sugar – as an acidic repellant to the potion's effects.
Since Snape was still fatigued from his therapy session, Lily decided that they should all keep him company and eat in his room. Much to Harry's disappointment, it was only a few minutes into the meal that the food began tempering the kratom's influence.
"I wish I had a camera," Harry muttered with a cheeky grin at his father. "People would pay hundreds of galleons to see you like that."
"Tell anyoneand I'll deduct a thousand points from Gryffindor," Snape replied waspishly.
"Like anyone would believe me. Might still be worth a try, though."
Snape glared daggers at the impudent teenager, which had absolutely zero effect on the boy. He turned to Lily with a huff, choosing to ignore her amused smile as he attempted to change the subject. "What exactly happened to me during this therapy session of yours?"
"To be honest, I feel like I should be asking you that," Lily murmured. "You showed many of the same signs as before, when you–" Her voice died away as she gave Harry a sideways glance.
Harry stilled, glancing at the two adults intently. "You mean when he exhausted his magical core, when he… saved me."
"Yes, love," Lily acknowledged in an apologetic sigh. It was obvious that she disliked reminding Harry of that awful time. But she was honest with him, nonetheless. Turning back to Snape, she continued, "I suspected, but I couldn't be sure. It wasn't as bad as before, when you completely drained your power. Instead it almost seemed as though you… I don't know… Like you recycled magic back into your own core. I've never seen anything like it. In fact, I haven't even found anything like it in any of the books in the library – even in the ancient Vedic healing tomes from India. It's rather frustrating, to be honest."
Harry snickered inexplicably, and Snape raised a brow at his son.
"She sounds like Hermione," the boy explained with a shrug. Recognizing the truth to his words, Snape couldn't help rolling his eyes – which only elicited more laughter from his son.
Secretly, Snape was pleased to see that the boy seemed to have reacquired some of his overactive Gryffindor obnoxiousness. Instead of the jumpy, almost fearful teenager that had skittered apprehensively into his office only hours before, now Harry seemed to have his familiar boldness back in spades.
It pleased him to no end.
In that moment, Snape decided that he'd subject himself to any amount of new age ridiculousness, if his participation kept Harry's terror at bay.
As humiliating as it was… it was worth it.
He'd be damned before he'd ever admit that to the cheeky teen, however. "Don't you have homework to complete?" he growled instead.
"Unfortunately," Harry answered. "I have this beastly Defense teacher – likes to assign mountains of homework that no student can possibly keep up with. Real irritating bloke."
Lily giggled, her twinkling eyes reminding Snape remarkably of the headmaster. He turned back to his son, refusing to admit to the boy how much he was enjoying their witty banter.
"This 'beastly teacher' sounds like the most intelligent person at this infernal school," he purred darkly. "And my, my – do I detect a willingness to donate twenty points from Gryffindor's communal fund? How remarkably generous of you, especially so early on in the school year."
"No, you definitely don't!" Harry replied hastily, jumping from his seat near the bed. "I'm going!"
"Disrespectful little urchin," Snape grumbled placidly, almost allowing a smile to slide across his lips. But as the boy hurried to the door, something occurred to him that made the almost-smile falter.
Easing his wand from the table beside the bed before the teen could scuttle out the door, he swallowed back the guilt at what he was about to do and called out.
"Harry."
The boy turned to him with his eyebrows raised, completely unsuspecting. "Yeah?"
"Legilimens."
Snape saw glimpses of nature rush past him: a grassy knoll; weathered old boards painted scarlet and gold, blue and bronze, yellow and black, and even green and silver; three tall metal goalposts reaching for the sky; and his son flying blissfully on a broom past it all. He suddenly recognized the scene as the school's own Quidditch pitch, and the peaceful smile he saw upon Harry's face as he flew beneath a perfect azure sky was enough to make his heart swell.
Moments later, he was gently removed from his son's thoughts – as if the boy had complete control and was simply closing the curtain on the stage within his mind.
As the scene faded to black, the solemn green of Harry's eyes took its place. He stared silently at Snape for a long, wary moment. Snape wondered if his son's surprise mirrored the look that was surely painted across his own features.
"I did it," Harry breathed.
"Indeed," Snape agreed, still unsure at how his son would react to the unanticipated mental assault. Forcing back the apology dancing on the tip of his tongue, he waited for the boy's reaction with bated breath.
And he was glad he did. For only moments later, Harry's eyes crinkled at the corners and his face wreathed in a smile. "I did it! I used my shields!"
"Very well, I might add," Snape smiled in relief. Thank Merlin. "You showed the control of a true master. Well done, Harry."
"Thanks," the boy responded softly, his face and ears reddening in pleased awkwardness. He made his way to the bed and threw his arms first around Snape, then around Lily in a succession of quick embraces. "Thanks… to both of you." Lily placed a proud, maternal kiss on his forehead, but said nothing as she allowed him to make his escape without any further embarrassment.
As the door closed behind him with a slight snick, Snape turned to the woman beside him. "Whatever you did..." His voice died away, as he had no words to express his heartfelt gratitude. Instead of attempting to explain away the telltale burning swimming in his eyes, he simply cleared his throat and asked, "When is our next session?"
. . . . .
The next few weeks flew by quicker than Harry on his Firebolt Supreme. Snape knew that the workload for the Sixth Years was enormous, and the students studied as though they had exams every day. But thanks to Lily's weekly sessions, Harry had not only learned how to control his fear and restore his shields, he also seemed to be thriving.
Amazingly enough, Snape's hands also seemed to be doing better – at least for a day or two after each therapy session, when the pain was close to non-existent. Lily was convinced he was somehow speeding along his recovery as he recycled his core magic back into the projection of his younger self.
It was strange how Snape looked forward to seeing Severus every week. This was the first time in his life that he'd been able to experience his childhood in a healthy, albeit somewhat detached way. The younger version of himself looked stronger every time he saw him. Confident and perhaps even happy, in his own way. And after mingling his core magic with the boy, his younger self practically glowed with renewed health and vitality. For the first time in his life, Snape was able to look back on his childhood without feeling a cold bolt of terror through his soul.
And it was all thanks to Lily. Nothing in the world could match the love he felt for her, nor the gratefulness that swelled within his chest as he realized the massive progress both he and Harry were making.
Snape attempted to remind himself of those facts as he scowled over the rim of his coffee cup at the beautiful redhead. It was a cold Saturday morning in mid-October, and all week he had been looking forward to a quiet, uninterrupted breakfast in Lily's tower amongst his family.
Instead he found himself glaring over Lily's shoulder at Jilly and Celine as the two laughing, squealing rug rats splattered flour and pancake batter across the ceiling and floor. He took a long pull of the black liquid in his mug, hoping the jolt of caffeine would ease his irritation.
It didn't.
"You invited Harry and his," he gritted his teeth, "friends over for breakfast."
"Mmm hmm," Lily smiled as she sat across from him, unsuccessfully attempting to hide her amusement.
His eyes narrowed dangerously on her unabashed green gaze, and he took another long pull of coffee. But at that moment there was a resounding CRASH as the wild animals in the kitchen knocked a frying pan from the stove. Unsurprising, seeing as how the two of them had crammed themselves onto a single small stool in front of the oven.
"See?" Jilly explained excitedly to McGonagall's beloved spawn. "Severus taught me how to make flying pancakes!"
The racket was enough to wake the dead, but Lily's amused gaze never left Snape's own. Although she was doing her best to hide her grin by biting her bottom lip, Snape could tell by the delicate crinkles at the corner of her eyes that she was laughing at his obvious irritation. I love this woman, he reminded himself.
"I hate you, woman," he growled into his coffee mug, tipping it almost vertical in his attempt to enjoy his beloved morning brew. But then he realized his mistake and thumped the offending ceramic receptacle grumpily onto the tabletop. "And I'm out of coffee."
Although they were making more noise than a parade of babbling monkeys, both urchins somehow overheard his grouchy outburst. Together they grabbed the coffee pot and ran to his side, sloshing the dark liquid across the stones of the kitchen floor.
"Here you go, Severus!" Jilly cried happily, sharing a proud grin with Celine as the two of them dumped the coffee too quickly into his empty cup. Snape attempted not to look too disgusted as it slopped over the rim and splashed across the tabletop.
Lily couldn't contain herself any longer and erupted into peals of laughter. Snape gave her his darkest scowl, which could normally send a crowd of dunderhead students scurrying from his path but had absolutely no effect on her.
Taking pity, Lily rose to her feet and cupped Snape's jaw within the palm of her hands. He found it difficult to hold onto his irritation as she smiled into his eyes before placing an affectionate kiss first upon his brow, and then warmly across his lips. He had to force his arms not to automatically reach for her when she moved away toward the girls.
"Alright you two," she announced, "you've tormented poor Severus enough. I'll take it from here."
"But Mum, we're making pancakes!"
"And you've done a fantastic job," she winked, placing a warming charm on the small stack of oddly-shaped breakfast cakes. "I'm sure our guests will be very impressed. But if we're going to have enough food for everyone, I need to take over now. Why don't you two go set the table?" And with a swish of her wand, the messes they'd made began to clean themselves. Snape watched as the puddle of dark coffee at his elbow evaporated, revealing a sparkling clean tabletop.
"Come on, Jeel," Celine said excitedly, sounding like a miniature Fluer Delacour as she tugged on Jillian's hand. "Let me show you 'ow my mozzair sets ze table for le Président!"
Snape pursed his lips and glared at the two young girls as they shooed him away from his spot at the table. As he took up residence leaning against the sink instead, he rolled his eyes as the miniature McGonagall pulled vintage china, monogrammed cloth napkins, crystal stemware, and not one, but two tablecloths from the large wooden hutch near the table. He then watched in irritation as a perfect six-year-old imitation of his annoyingly prim and proper feline coworker set a dazzling French tablescape. It pained him to admit, but it looked… nice.
"I am fineeshed, madame!" the dark-haired girl announced to Lily, just as she was plating what looked to be a veritable mountain of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon.
"Did you invite the entire castle?!" Snape barked in alarm. But his question was answered a moment later as a veritable parade of people made their way through Lily's front door. McGonagall led the way, followed close behind by the Wolf and his pink-haired girlfriend, who was busy making The Golden Trio laugh by changing her nose into a ridiculous looking pig snout. As their eyes met from across the kitchen, Snape could see how content Harry was by the smile his son threw his way, and his irritation abated… somewhat.
"Grandmozzair!" Celine cried, muffling Snape's groan of dismay as she ran to the Cat.
McGonagall scooped up her granddaughter with the ease and strength of a much younger woman. After hoisting Celine onto her hip, she glanced at the table before proudly kissing the young girl. "I can see you've been hard at work preparing for our arrival."
"Do you like eet?" Celine asked in a delighted tone.
"Why, it's lovely, sweetheart!"
"Come in, everyone!" Lily called from the kitchen. "Please, make yourselves at home! Breakfast will be served shortly – I'm just making some freshly squeezed orange juice."
As the parade made their way to the table, Granger and Nymphadora cooed over the beautifully set display. Grinning like a loon, Lupin ruffled Celine's hair and murmured, "She is a girl of many talents. Just yesterday she successfully taught the giant squid to play pattycake."
"She also helped make these beautiful pancakes," Lily said with a grin as she came around the corner with her arms full of heaping plates. As she laid them on the table, Snape couldn't help rolling his eyes.
"Please, have a seat everyone!" Lily happily announced.
"This table looks fit for royalty, Celine," Granger complimented annoyingly as she took a seat in between Weasley and Harry. "Where did you learn how to set it so nicely?"
"From my mozzair," the girl replied, unfolding a fabric napkin from its complicated origami and laying it primly in her lap.
"My daughter works as the Head Administrative Assistant to the Muggle President of France," McGonagall explained as she sat bedside her granddaughter and ran her fingers lovingly through her hair. "In President Chirac's mind, Celine's mother is a competent, meticulous young woman who is both practical and clever. He's been known to say that he wouldn't last a week without her," she said proudly. "What he doesn't realize is she is the liaison between the Magical and Muggle positions of the French government. President Chirac has no idea about our world. But Melinda Glyn reports the events in France directly to the International Confederation of Wizards, in order to keep them abreast of Muggle activities there."
"Melinda Glyn…" Harry murmured, nudging Weasley beside him.
"'M.G. McGonagall,' from the trophy room!" The redhead cried. "See? I knew it wasn't the professor! The dates weren't right, she's too–" But with a sudden wide-eyed glance at his Head of House, the boy cut himself off and quickly shoveled a disgustingly large portion of food into his mouth to keep from continuing.
"Go ahead, Weasley," Snape murmured silkily, pausing a moment to sip at his fresh, steaming mug of coffee. After a dramatic pause where he knew he had everyone's attention, he finished: "You can say it. She's too… old."
"Watch your tongue, young man," McGonagall snapped. "It wasn't that long ago that you were soiling your nappies. And I've been cursing sharp tongues for twice as long as that!" After glaring darkly at Snape for a few moments longer, she turned to Harry and Weasley with a warmer smile. "But yes, you two are correct. Melinda earned that particular honor during the final game of the season in her fourth year. If it weren't for Slytherin's dirty, underhanded tactics throughout that game, Gryffindor would have won the Cup," she announced, throwing another sour look at Snape.
"I do believe I remember that day," Snape replied smoothly. "Wasn't Melinda carried off the field unconscious?"
"Hmph!" The cat practically hissed with an irritated rustle of her skirts. Snape was forced to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Although irritating the woman was one of his favorite pastimes, he didn't want to push his luck.
"Speaking of Quidditch," Lupin quickly interjected, "aren't the Gryffindor tryouts today?"
"Yeah," Harry sighed with much less enthusiasm than Snape was expecting. He could tell that his son was nervous about the first hurdle of his Captaincy. "Trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied. I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."
"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."
Weasley gagged on a large piece of kipper at the same moment that Snape choked on a sip of black coffee. Granger spared the redhead one look of disdain but was a bit more subtle as she glanced sideways at Snape. After a moment she turned her attention back to Harry.
"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now. The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about," she glanced Snape's way again, "about You-Know-Who. They can't deny that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"
Harry looked as though he was finding the room very hot all of a sudden. But as Snape's assessing gaze settled back on Granger, he was forced to admit that perhaps he'd underestimated her for all these years. She was, after all, speaking with a Slytherin-esque logic that rather impressed him.
"And," the girl continued without noticing his inspection, "you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were nothing but a mentally unstable liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway."
"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," said Weasley lamely, shaking back his sleeves.
"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either, probably thanks to Lily and Professor Snape feeding you properly for the first time in your life," Granger finished, ignoring the redheaded boy beside her. There was a shocked hush as she finished, but Granger didn't seem abashed in the least.
"I'm tall," Weasley murmured inconsequentially into the silence.
Snape could only stare at the bushy-haired girl as she challenged Harry with a look that accused him of being the worst of idiots. It was a look that was worthy of Snape himself, and the thought shocked him. He'd always known the girl was smart – she'd practically memorized the entire library, for Merlin's sake! But until this moment he'd never realized that she had a cunning calculation about her, as well. He was rather… proud, if truth be told. And he couldn't have been more stunned by that realization.
Nymphadora finally broke the silence with a chuckle. "Hermione's right, Harry. You're a good-looking bloke, and you're finally taller than a First Year. You can't expect us females not to notice," she winked, grinning.
Harry's face blazed crimson. "Shut it, Tonks," he muttered as he tossed his waded napkin at her. But his son couldn't hide his smile, and for that Snape was grateful.
As breakfast came to a close, it was obvious that the group intended to follow Harry down to the Quidditch pitch to show their support. Snape allowed the others to file out the door past him. His mouth puckered as he thought yet again of the charade he and Harry were being forced to perform but knowing there was nothing for it. As if sensing his distress, Lily came to stand silently beside him, slipping her fingers within his own and giving a quick squeeze of support before letting go. Snape gazed down at her, his pucker turning into a one-sided smile.
"Miss Granger," he called, catching sight of the girl over Lily's shoulder. "If I may."
"I'll meet you down there," the bushy-haired teen said, breaking away from the rest. "Good luck, Harry! You'll do great. And Ron… Just… relax. You're going to do fine."
It was then that Snape realized that Weasley's freckled complexion had taken on a green pallor. His voice was a few octaves higher than normal as he replied, "Yeah. Yeah. It'll be fine. This is fine. It's all going to be…"
"Fine?" Harry finished with a laugh as he threw his arm confidently around the taller boy's shoulders. "C'mon, mate. You've got this."
"Y-yeah," Weasley squeaked. "M'fine."
Granger rolled her eyes and shook her head as she watched the two boys slip down the tower's spiraling staircase, then turned and made her way toward Snape and Lily. "He really is his own worst enemy," she murmured, and Snape detected a hint of teenage emotion that the girl was obviously trying hard not to acknowledge. "So, uh… what can I do for you, Professor?"
He saw no reason to beat around the bush, and he got straight to the point.
"What exactly did you mean by, 'The marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write in your own blood'?"
Lily gasped beside him at the same moment that Granger blanched, and all color drained from her face. It was all the confirmation Snape needed, and his eyes narrowed dangerously as a bolt of fiery rage tore through his insides. Although he was engulfed in an anger that threatened to make him turn true Death Eater once again, he attempted to shove the emotion behind his shields and gain back some semblance of control.
"What. Happened?" he snarled menacingly enough to make Granger take an uneasy step backwards. Lily's wide eyes flicked uneasily between the two of them, her hand covering her mouth in a horrified expression.
"It-it was P-Professor Umbridge, sir," she stammered. "She used a… a Blood Quill on the students as p-punishment."
Snape cursed loudly, causing both women to jump.
It was at that point that Granger began to babble uncontrollably. "I tried to stop him, sir, I swear! But Harry refused to listen to reason! He knew that woman was dangerous – he knew he was playing with fire. But he… he wouldn't stop! S-some nights he came back, and his flesh was shredded down to the bones. Day after day, that… that BITCH forced him to write lines in his own blood!"
"Did she,then?" Snape growled, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. He knew in that moment that he would gladly give himself up to Azkaban and spend the rest of his days in everlasting agony, if it meant that he could avenge his son from the treatment he received in that hands of that evil toad.