Chapter 15
He yearns for the burn of hard liquor. That burn is the only thing that soothes, the only thing that can make him forgive himself, even though that forgiveness fades. But perhaps he never actually forgives at all. Perhaps he simply forgets.
Just the thought of a stiff drink relieves some of his tension. But no… No. He needs that tension. He hasn't slept in nearly 36 hours and he's in a particularly foul mood, but he mustn't forget his duty. Not even for an instant. Severus steadies his outstretched arm, and his body turns back to stone. He frowns down at Potter with regret.
The girl is trembling like a wilted leaf in the wind. Her eyes dart frantically behind closed eyelids. She's stumbling through memories too painful to describe. And it's not fair. She shouldn't have to do this again. She should have never experienced those memories the first time. But once again, he stands by and lets her suffer. Once again, he does nothing. And once again, the guilt consumes him. He grits his teeth in disgust. Will she remember him there? Will she recall how blank his eyes had been, how his feet had never moved an inch her direction? He hadn't done as much as blink when that killing curse had struck her.
Severus's grip on his wand is almost painful now. He's clutching it so tightly, not allowing any opportunity for it to falter, that his calloused fingers have gone white. Movement from the girl makes his task more difficult, but he cannot break contact. Not now. Not when he has a chance to eliminate a fraction of her pain.
Potter's head jerks back violently and she opens her mouth in a silent scream. Shit. Severus sucks in a panicked breath. Her move is so abrupt that his wand nearly loses connection with her temple. It's miraculous that it does not. But Severus doesn't believe in miracles. He believes in disasters.
It's clear that Potter can't control her own movements anymore. He must keep her still. It is essential. Keeping his wand steady, Severus inches behind the chair and with his free hand, firmly pins her against the back of the chair. He feels knobby shoulder bones digging into his palm. So far gone is her mind that she doesn't seem to notice his touch at all. That is for the best.
It isn't long before he feels her wild magic swelling in the room. He'd been expecting it. That's why he'd chosen to do this here in the sitting room, far away from glass or small objects that might suddenly zoom into the air. He'd already tucked all the potentially hazardous items away, even securing the furniture down with sticking charms earlier that morning.
He'd never thought about the fire crackling on the hearth.
It starts slowly. He barely even notices the flames climbing higher from the grate. Then there's a peculiar popping, at first quiet but steadily rising in volume. His eyes snap away from the girl to stare. Each pop sends a flurry of blazing embers soaring. Potter's magic, as wild as it is, seems attracted to the flames that teem with magical energy. Like a magnet, the forces are drawn together. So, the fire grows, first upward. Then outward. It only takes one ember plopping onto the rug to set the room ablaze.
The fire begins to creep across the room. It crawls slowly, growing higher and higher. Heavy, dark smoke wafts into the air. Severus stands, stiff as a board, contemplating the situation.
Ordinarily, the fire would not pose a problem. After all, fire can be extinguished with a single spell. But he can't cast that spell, and hold down the girl, and maintain the spell's connection with her mind. It's impossible. And he can't break the spell. There is only one chance to get that damn memory out of her head without scrambling her mind. She must be nearly done. She has to be.
Removing memories is not an exact science. For a controlled and skilled mind, the process is quick and nearly effortless. But Potter is unstable and untrained. Sorting through her memory, a memory so traumatic, takes time. The spell helps her immerse herself in the past, but it doesn't do all the work. And if he ends the spell, if that connection is broken, then that's it. She'll be partially stuck in those memories for the rest of her life. So, he waits, watching the trajectory of the fire with rapt attention and a rapidly thumping heart. He has to let the girl finish.
And that wouldn't be a problem if the fire wasn't creeping nearer. But it is
Then suddenly, the flames are scurrying over his sofa, consuming cushions and turning the upholstery to ash. The magical fire isn't hindered by the stone floor. It continues to burn where ordinary fire could not. Smoke billows from the blackening fabric on the opposite side of the room, filling his lungs and stinging his eyes, but Severus keeps his wand pressed firmly against Potter's temple, gritting his teeth.
C'mon Potter.
They have minutes, at most, before that fire reaches them. And even if the fire doesn't burn them to a crisp, smoke inhalation poses a real danger. He can already feel a pounding headache building and his breathing is shallow. Potter's is even shallower. She's nearly wheezing.
It's been too long. Severus can't wait any longer. The fire is too close, and nearly high enough to reach the ceiling. He has to act. He can try to lug the girl away one handed. It won't be easy. He could easily break the connection. It's a risk, but he'll have to take it.
He moves around the edge of the chair, hacking and trying to keep his eyes open. He sucks in a breath and reaches out for her.
A few things happen simultaneously.
Potter jumps up from the chair without warning, nearly stepping into a wall of magical flame. The spell connection severs and a curly, silver tendril shoots into his wand. Severus is thrown backward from the force of the powerful memories. His body collides with the floor. A stab of pain shoots down his leg.
He's up in an instant, but he nearly freezes when he sees the girl. She's swaying on her feet, eyes still closed, and only a second away from toppling face first into fire.
"POTTER!" He yells, lunging forward.
Without waiting for a response, without waiting for her to open her eyes, without waiting for his heart to start beating again, he curls his arms around her waist and pulls her backward. Her body collides roughly with his. She fights against his embrace, screaming hoarsely, but he doesn't care. He lugs her toward the hall, still shouting.
"Damn it, Potter! Open your eyes!" he rasps.
And she does. There they are. Wide and pained and green.
Severus throws her down a bit too roughly and turns back toward the blaze. He brandishes his wand. The extinguishing charm fights the flames. They dwindle and die quickly before his eyes until he's left only with the wreckage and the sharp stench of smoke.
The room is destroyed.
He turns to the girl.
"Are you alright?"
She's coughing. It sounds painful. Her eyes are blood shot, and her face is tinted gray.
"Uh.. I don't know. I feel kind of sick," she whispers.
"Wait here," he says and stumbles toward his stash of potions. He feels like shit, but he knows that Potter must feel worse. He wipes the sweat and ash from his face and grabs a few vials off the shelf.
When he comes back, she has her shaky hand settled over her chest, feeling as it barely rises and falls.
"Take this first," he says, handing her a blue potion. He watches her and downs an identical vial of blue, sighing with relief as his lungs clear. "Now, this one," he says, bending down to give her another vial. That one should reduce her nausea.
Potter stares up at him from the floor, still looking shaken.
"How is your memory?"
She's quiet for a moment, contemplating the question. "I know that he hurt me, but I don't… It's like my mind keeps trying to make connections and they're just… gone."
He knows that feeling well. But it must be different for her. Her memory had become so intertwined with her consciousness. For over a month, it had been constantly on her mind, in her dreams, in her thoughts, in every move she made. And now, except for hazy remnants of fact, it has completely disappeared.
"Yes. Removing memories can be somewhat unsettling."
It seems as though she doesn't hear him. Her eyes are scanning the charred room with growing horror.
"The fire, was that… Did I?"
He nods slightly.
"I'm so sorry." She says, turning to stare down at her socks. They're holey and worn. Her big toe is smudged with ash.
"It was accidental magic. You could not control it," he assures her.
"I'll pay for everything."
"You will not," he snaps.
"But your books," she says, staring at their blackened spines. Her eyes travel to where the sofa had once lain. "and your sofa is destroyed."
"It may be difficult for you to believe, but I am not a penniless scoundrel. I am perfectly capable of buying new furniture."
"You shouldn't have to," she mumbles bitterly.
He ignores her. "I need to get your memories to the headmaster. Would you like to accompany me?"
She shakes her head. "I don't want to see him."
"Very well," he says, turning to leave. "Get something to eat, and don't you dare enter my lab."
Potter nods and pushes herself up from the ground. Severus trudges toward the kitchen and he hears her light footfalls behind him. He would ordinarily take the floo to visit the headmaster, but he's had enough of fire for one day, and it wouldn't be wise to leave the girl unsupervised around an open flame again. He reaches for the door, and Potter plops down at the table, still watching him.
"Sir," she says, and he turns. "Thank you."
Her words are exceedingly genuine. They unsettle him. He does not deserve her thanks.
"You're welcome, Potter."
He leaves.
Albus doesn't seem at all surprised when Severus informs him of Potter's destruction.
"Her wild magic is growing stronger."
"You say that as if it's a good thing," Severus remarks sourly. Only Albus can take something as horrific as a near fatal fire and use it to his advantage.
"Strong wild magic is an indication of a particularly strong witch or wizard. I too, had exceedingly strong bursts of magic as a child," Albus says, his eyes twinkling. "She just needs to learn how to harness her power."
"Well, now that the damn memory is gone, I suspect that she will be doing much less accidental magic."
"That may be," Albus says, running his fingers through his long, silver beard with a pensive expression. "Speaking of the girl's magic, I do believe it's time to find her a new wand."
Severus doesn't know what to say to that. He had nearly forgotten that Potter's wand had been left behind in the graveyard. She'll have to be matched with a new one. Perhaps the old man will take the girl to Ollivander's.
For the love of Merlin, don't ask me to do it.
"I'll need you to take Ms. Potter to Diagon Alley. She can pick up her school things for the year. I'd also like her to try out James' and Lily's old wands. If neither of them bond with her, then she'll have to visit Mr. Ollivander."
Fuck.
"Don't you think it will be a little suspicious for me to be accompanying the girl who lived?"
The last thing he needs to do is make the Dark Lord more suspicious of his loyalties. He had visited the man only once since he'd been reborn in the graveyard. That night had been rough, but he'd given the Dark Lord enough intel about Dumbledore and the inner workings of the Order of the Phoenix that he'd been spared. But Severus wasn't a fool. The Dark Lord did not trust him. Not really. Not yet.
"You still have a supply of Remus Lupin's hair from preparing the Wolfsbane, do you not?"
Severus nods, not liking where this is going.
"Good. You can use Polyjuice to disguise yourself."
"Surely, there is someone else who'd be willing to take her."
"Would you like me to ask Sirius?" Albus jokes.
Severus rolls his eyes. "Couldn't you have Gringotts send over the wands and owl order the girl's school things?"
Albus chuckles, reveling in Severus's discomfort. "I could, but I think it's important to determine whether Harriet is able to compose herself in public. It will be good practice for her."
"Hmmph."
"Don't look so miserable, Severus. You'll be free of the girl soon."
What does that mean? Severus doesn't like the manipulative edge in the other man's voice. He narrows his eyes at him.
"She'll be going back to her relative's home next week."
The corner of his nose raises in a snarl. He's sending her back to Petunia, back to the place where she'd hung herself. The memory of the girl swinging from the tree flits through his mind.
"Do you think that's wise?"
"Madame Pomphrey tells me that she's completely healed, so I see no reason to keep her at Hogwarts. It's more important that she spend time with her Aunt in order to preserve the wards." He explains. "Don't look so disturbed, Severus. She will survive. I wouldn't send her back unless I thought she was ready."
"And how would you know if she was ready? You've barely spent any time with her since she arrived."
"She's promised me that she won't attempt to kill herself again. Do you honestly believe otherwise?"
Severus clenches his teeth together. "No. But she is not yet healed. She should remain in a stable environment."
"Order members will be guarding the house, and they will report anything out of the ordinary. She will be safe there."
Severus doesn't bother to comment on his plan. The old man never listens. He'll never learn.
His fingers itch to curl around a liquor bottle. He needs to feel the burn.
Thanks for reading! Please review!