Chapter 15: Sage's Problem

Sage retreated down to the dungeons, anticipating that Professor Snape would want to have a little chat with him once he was through upstairs. Now he knew why his uncle hated Karkaroff so greatly, the man was a leech. Not only did he just look like someone could snap him in half, but for a pureblood, Sage could not feel any strong magical power about the man. Pompous would have been a good word to describe Karkaroff, and presumptuous as well.

Sage smirked. The man had thought he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire!

As if I would desire to play at games while I know the Dark Lord is to return. If only Karkaroff knew, he would run off, I am sure of it. Ohh yes, I would not want to be around the Death Eaters I betrayed at Voldemort's resurrection.

Karkaroff had thought he was up all night because he was afraid the Goblet would not choose his name.

If that were my only worry. If that was what was keeping me up at night. How could he be thick enough to think that the Goblet would not pick a me, a Magi? Even on my worst day! No, no, that certainly would not keep me up all night. More like the picture of me laying dead on the ground with blood spurting from every orifice and Voldemort standing over me with that sickening cackle. Or of Dumbledore on fire. Or death.

The door to the Professor's chambers came upon him quickly while he was lost in his thoughts. He muttered the password and strode in. It felt strange being there when his uncle was not. He paced around a few steps before deciding to start the fire and sit down on the black leather couch.

Before long Sage grew bored just sitting and waiting and decided to get a book to read to occupy his busy mind with something that was not morbid. He settled on a book on transference and began to read.

Sage heard the clicking of shoes on the stone floors and looked towards the door expectantly. The door flung open and the Professor stalking in muttering to himself, thinking he was likely alone. The man stopped on a dime, suddenly, and looked straight at him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

Sage looked up at him, his brow furrowed, "I should have thought you would have wanted to speak with me, sir. And to work with me as well, like every night."

Severus scowled while looking closely at his nephew's face. He walked over to the couch and stood by the arm of the couch right next to where Sage was sitting. Reaching down, he grabbed the book from his nephew's hand and then placed it on the table.

Sage's eyes narrowed slightly, unsure of what his uncle was thinking.

"Get up," Severus said impatiently and irritably.

Sage swallowed and obliged. He did not take his eyes off the older man. Severus reached up with a long fingered hand and grabbed Sage's chin, raising it up. Sage's eyes grew wider. Severus scrutinized him, moving his chin from side to side. Finally he let go of it roughly.

"You look pitiable. You have not slept in days, have you?"

Sage felt millions of muscle fibers in his body relax at the same time as he exhaled loudly. Severus raised his eyebrow.

"No sir."

"Why did you not take the dreamless sleep potion I gave you?"

"You said not to take it too often, as it is addictive. Not to mention that it would lose its effectiveness if my system built up a tolerance. I can't take it everyday, sir, can I?"

The professor's lips pursed. "I see that you are not getting passed this, are you?"

Sage looked down and blinked his eyes a few times.

"Look at me when I am talking to you," Severus said plainly.

"I suppose not, uncle," Sage said raising his eyes once more. His face seemed to sink completely.

"Why didn't you tell me that you weren't sleeping?" He asked turning his back on Sage.

Sage shrugged, "I didn't think you'd want to hear any excuses sir."

He turned back around on Sage, "Excuses? You did not think that I cared."

Sage frowned and he looked rather uncomfortable. "Well, Uncle, I…" He stammered.

"I do care. A lot of people care about this, Sage. There are many people who care about you. The headmaster speaks of nothing else to me, Minerva as well. They think you are depressed, they think that this is all too much for you. I must admit, I am beginning to think that you are not strong enough to handle this. I do not know what to do, Sage. I cannot fix this. You must be stronger than this. I am sick of the way you are looked on with pity. You don't want to be pitied, do you?" He asked like sandpaper.

"No, I don't."

"Have you noticed at all, that you are asking for pity, the way you are letting this beat you? Miss Granger does nothing at all in class besides looking at you with those, those puppy eyes, as if you were about to die straight away. Everyday I see you looking more and more like you are not even here."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Gods, don't be sorry. I'm sick of you saying that you are sorry. You just need to get by this, and soon Sage. My patience is wearing dangerously thin. What do you hope to gain by wallowing? Even if the prophecies were true, would you want to live for nothing, do nothing, and then die for nothing." Perhaps Dumbledore's words had stuck with Professor Snape far more than he thought they had.

"No, sir...I don't know, sir." Does it make a difference?

Severus put a hand on his hip and glared potently, his dark eyes shining like a gun barrel.

"What do you propose to do about this then, you cannot go on like this. I cannot go on like this."

"I, er, sir I don't think I know what to do." He looked down and scowled at his own response. He sounded like a blithering idiot, consumed by his own ineptitude and weakness. Why does it have to be this way?

"I do believe you remember very clearly one thing I asked you to do that I feel you are still quite capable of even though you are clearly incapable of many other things…"

Sage looked back up, his eyes weary and his face showing his emotional sickness and weakness as if it were a disease.

"Better," Severus said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

Sage's lip quivered slightly and he inhaled through his nose, his eyes closing slightly. His mind felt like soup suddenly and it was sloshing around. The floor even felt like an illusion below his feet. His hands, though he knew were a part of him, felt strangely foreign, as if they were not a part of what he really was. Like they were not his. His perceptions had grown increasingly more distorted, and he didn't know what to make of it. He just knew that he was tired and yet couldn't sleep. Can't I just banish it all?I just want it to go away.

His face grew more pale, he swallowed one more time and locked his eyes with his uncle's. He pursed his lips for a few moments before he let his jaw slacken. Words jammed in his throat, so badly in fact that he never got to the point where he opened his mouth to speak them. His hands kept grasping one another and massaging themselves in a fidgeting but soothing manner.

Finally he opened his mouth, "I…" The word carried much longer than it should have as the rest of his words were reluctant to follow. "I… I need, er, need help, uncle… please."

Severus raised his eyebrows and stared at him, looking down his nose. It could have been mistaken for an imperious look, but it was more of a confused and shocked.

Sage shifted his weight to his other foot uncomfortably. "You, you told me last year that I should have come to you, trusted you, and told you what was going on. And, that, well, that I should have asked for help when I needed it before I did something brash. I, I, erm, really need help now, sir, before, before maybe I do something stupid again." He shifted uneasily again and crossed his arms over his chest protectively.

"Sit down before you fall over," his uncle answered him letting his face relax.

Sage ran his hand through his hair and sat back down on the couch. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. His hands almost immediately began shaking.

Severus sighed and sat down in the chair next to the couch. He too leaned forward. Uneasy, he took a deep breath.

"Tonight, you acted quite independenly, performing a spell that must have taken concentration that you have not been able to maintain in your training. Now, why were you capable of doing so?"

Sage turned his head and looked at him questioningly. His brow furrowed with thought. "Well, sir, I guess I was distracted by what was going on. I knew Harry didn't enter himself, and I didn't want anyone to accuse him. Then, when Karkaroff said, well, you know what he said, I just got upset and aggravated. It focused my attention and irritation onto him. I guess that's what got me focused enough to do it. I, just, well sir, I don't know why I cannot seem to do so with my training."

Severus let out a sigh, doing his best not to get angry and to keep his composure. It wasn't in his immediate nature to be patient with these things. The Dark Lord would not be resting.

He put his hand up to his chin and pointed at Sage, "And with Moody, it was the same. You got angry over what he said about you and then you were defending me. Correct?"

Sage sat back and looked at him strangely. He was as confused by the parallel as Snape was, "Yes, sir, I think so."

"Well, it seems you have some interesting defensive tendencies. You feel threatened, or see others you care for threatened, and you can do very advanced magic. Yourself, myself, Potter? You get distracted away from your thoughts and are able to focus. Perhaps it really is not very conscious, Sage. I never thought on it very much, but perhaps your powers are breaking through in extreme situations, getting passed whatever barriers you have in a normal situation. When else do you feel better?"

Sage sighed, "Whenever I can distract myself from it. Sometimes, well, when I play my guitar."

Severus's face screwed up in disgust but he quickly hid it from Sage.

"You are of no use to anyone like this, Sage, do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Fine then. It is quite evident you need to get through this, and quite evident that you cannot get through this under the pressure of training. You cannot focus minutely anyway. It is a waste of both of our time. Just so that we are clear. I find this wholly unacceptable, but it remains clear that unacceptable or not some changes have to be made so that you can be done with this. Only then will we be able to get anything accomplished. Thus, I will let you move one step back with the expectation that, when the time comes, you will move three steps forward."

He stood up and walked over to the mantle, leaning against it and looking down at Sage. "You will continue with your academic work, but we will not be attempting any practical training of your powers. That has proved quite impossible anyway. Instead, try to let yourself be distracted away from those damn morbid thoughts of yours. Play your…guitar. Look for those things which draw your thoughts away from morbidity, whatever they may be, and then try to seek them out, within the rules of course. But, if I see you digressing in other areas, this new relaxed tactic will end. Clear?"

"Yes sir," Sage answered, pushing his hair back behind his ears.

"Fine, now get yourself back up to your room, and I will send you a strong sleeping draught that I am sure will give you some rest."

Sage watched as his uncle walked by him and went toward the kitchen. He felt strangely comfortable and stuck to the couch.

"Erm, sir, can I just stay here?"

Severus spun around, his shoulder-length hair whipping along with him, "Whatever for?" He asked, on his last nerve of patience and tolerance.

Sage pulled his head back and stared at the Professor for a second before managing to say, "Because, I, er, don't want to be alone."

Severus looked at him as if he were a potion gone horridly wrong, actually, as if he were one of Longbottom's creations, "Dolt, you have at least sixty people up there with you, you are far from alone!"

"I just don't…I'm afraid I am going to have another vision or dream or something. It's, uh, none of them can help or do anything… Err, I'll just go," he said, getting up slowly. The words 'I feel safer with you' were not going to come out.

Severus scowled loudly, "Fine, you can stay. But I am not going to facilitate you pitying yourself. You can get your own bedding, and if you want to stay you can sleep on the couch."

"Yes, sir. Umm, thanks."

The man growled in return, shaking his head negatively before he finally said, "Go to it, and I will get the potion from my stores."

Sage came back carrying a pillow and a blanket. A bottle was now sitting on the table by the couch. His face souring, he put the bedding on the chair and looked up to Severus, who was glaring at him while drinking his tea.

Before too long, Sage was fast asleep the couch. He had hardly been able to lay down on the couch and pull up the blanket before he got knocked in the head with a consuming sleep. That potion had finally given him access to the sleep he so direly needed.

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