Chapter 6

In Private

Sage opened his eyes to near complete darkness. There was only one candle lit in the room and no windows. He was in a bed, but it wasn't his bed and he was pretty sure it wasn't the hospital wing. Was he home? A distinct piece of him wanted to be. He was alone most of the time at home, and alone was familiar and comfortable.

His brain felt like it was being smashed as he moved his head. He still felt cold. His eyes drifted around the room. Big bed. Dark grey and a dark shade of wine he could see on the sheets and blanket surrounding him. It frightened him slightly, in his feverish stupor, that he didn't know where he was. He couldn't really move either. It must not be too long after his attack, he was still in pain.

"Professor?" he called out as loudly as he could, which ended up being similar to his normal speaking voice. A few moments later, there was movement and the door creaked open. His eyes did not work right with the sudden burst of light.

"Uncle?" he said tentatively.

"You have never been blacked out this long after."

Sage tried to sit up a little, but then realized that he couldn't. He just laid there waiting for his uncle to come closer. A few more candles lit up. It hurt his eyes at first, but after a few minutes he could see a bit better.

"Where a-am I?"

Professor Snape sat down in a chair that had been placed next to the bed.

"My rooms. We couldn't bring you up to the hospital wing, because Poppy is pretty, for a lack of a better word, nosey. We decided that it would be better if I just looked after you."

"She can't see the…" He drifted off, not comfortable in saying it.

"No Sage, like I said, that's one thing that must stay secret. We must keep it between the four of us." Professor Snape leaned forward and felt Sage's forehead again. It was still hot. The temperature had gone down, but it was not gone. He reached into his robes and took out two small bottles and placed them on the table next to the bed.

"If you need them, the blue is the sleeping, and the red is for your migraine. You know how to take them."

Sage nodded. He'd been taking those potions since he had first met Professor Snape.

"How l-long was I out, sir?"

Professor Snape looked at his watch. "About five hours. That is a long time to be passed out. How do you feel?"

"A'right I ga-uess. I can't re-ally move. I feel a little pr-prickly all over and sssome burning on my arms. My ha-head feels like it wants to pop, and I'm still cold."

Severus nodded. The feeling was exactly like the Cruciatus curse and it looked like it when he was having the attacks too. He had always wondered how that could be, but there were mysteries about Sage that even he did not really understand.

Sage saw a slight look of pain flash across his uncle's face. "W-what is it, uncle?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"Uncle…. Is this g-going to kill me one d-day? These powers."

Professor Snape looked back up into Sage's eyes and leaned closer to him, "Why do you ask that?"

Sage shrugged slightly and then winced. It hurt even when he moved so slightly. "Well, wa-when I'm having the, uhh, at-tacks. I feel like I wa-want to die. That I'd ra-rather die."

"I know." Severus answered looking Sage in his deep blue eyes.

Sage's eyebrows went up. Professor Snape knew he was asking him how he knew. They had never discussed this before. There were certain things about the Dark Lord and his service, for both sides ironically, that he had successfully avoided for a very long time in the quiet between. It was no longer quiet, and it was no longer even just whispers. At some point, he would have to learn to talk to his nephew about it.

"The Cruciatus Curse, Sage, was very commonly used by," he paused as an unreadable emotion flitted across his face, "the Dark Lord. I have been under it before, many, many times. Its symptoms and effects are similar to or identical to what happens to you when you have visions. I know how you feel like you want to die. I am sorry I cannot do anything more to stop it." Then he added, "I would go through it for you if I could."

It would, at least, make more sense then; he deserved it. His nephew had not done anything in the whole of his life that was truly bad, and the only repayment the boy got for being special was a gilded cage with no bars. Severus also knew what that felt like, but again, he had done something to deserve it.

Sage took a deep pained breath, breaking the elder's thoughs. "When I h-had the one in L-London, I ra-realized something. Ju-just having you there ha-helps me get through the pa-pain. I hear ya-your voice and wha-when I con-concentrate on it, I tha-think it brings me out fa-faster."

Professor Snape felt something strange come over him. Was it relief? No, not exactly, but something similar. It made him feel good but it wasn't relief. Relief was a component but not truly what he was feeling. He had felt it before, he was sure. A long time ago.

He did know one thing. He could sympathize with his nephew. He too had not had a very good childhood, had lost a father early, and had spent a lot of time alone. His schoolmates had been either as afraid and as tentative about him as they were about Sage. He had felt annoyed at people bothering him, talking all the time, and asking him questions. He just had never been around that before either. In fact, those things still bothered him. The constant need to talk.

Someone had once broken him of all those less desirable qualities, and for a brief time he had been happy, but that had started to wane long before she was even gone.

Severus did not want Sage to be burdened by the things he had been burdened by, but that was already difficult to remedy. It was not any easier that the whole school now associated the boy with their slimy git of a Potions master.

If it weren't for the big blue eyes and softer looks, Sage would look just like a Snape too. As it was they had many similar features but Sage's were smoothed by his mother's excessively pretty Malfoy blood. Sage didn't look like he had much Potter in him, but then again Sage's father looked nothing like his annoying younger half-brother, James. Their…rivalry…had intensified to fever pitch after Jace had graduated.

Sage stared at his uncle, who was apparently deep in thought. Most people would have read Severus as expressionless, but Sage could see a very vague hint of sadness in his eyes. He also noticed him staring at his face.

The soft, dark blankets were covering his head when he woke up. Sage wished his own bed was this comfortable. He moved around, no pain. Well, no relative pain, still chilly, and a headache. So far as Sage was concerned this was feeling good. He sat up with ease and noticed a pile at the end of the bed. Clothes. He pushed the covers back and got out of the bed into the chill of the dungeon. Sage put up the palm of his hand and the unlit candles in the room lit up so that he could see what he was doing. His uncle had taught him how to perform some of the more useful spells without wand or incantation a long time prior. He had learned this one during his first lesson with Professor Snape, when he was just seven years old. Well, he learned how to do it without speaking the incantation a little after that.

Sage found the bathroom with ease and started up a scalding hot shower. The water warmed him up as much as it could, but he still felt a little cold. When he was dried up, he looked through the clothes that were sitting by the bed. He pulled on some dark grey fleece lounge pants, a long sleeved black t-shirt.

When he peered out the door from the bedroom, he did not see his uncle. The fire was lit and burning strong. He figured that it was more for his benefit than Professor Snape's. There was a small kitchen near the living room and Sage went about making some tea.

When he went to sit down by the fire, he was startled. His uncle was laying on the couch fast asleep. Sage had never seen him sleep before. Well, I suppose it's pretty stupid for me to think he never sleeps. He set the tea kettle down on the table in front of the couch and put his own cup on the table in front of the black leather armchair on the right of the couch.

Severus woke to find Sage sitting cross-legged in the armchair next to him with a overly large book propped open on his lap and a tea-cup in his right hand. The professor sat up, not used to waking up to the presence of anyone.

Sage looked at him a bit startled, "I'm sorry, sir, do you mind, I mean, I should have asked first, but you were, erm, indisposed," he said lifting the book up a bit.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow, still looking a bit groggy, "No, that's the one thing I do not mind you doing. Which is it?"

Sage raised the spine of the book so Severus could see. Lost Spells, Charms, and Curses. The professor remembered the book quiet well. Full of useful things. "You should know many of those. Those that you do not, I'm sure you could figure out on your own."

Sage nodded, "I like the narratives about them, useful. Cup of tea?"

Before Professor Snape answered, Sage caught a cup and saucer that had come flying through the air at them. Snape blinked twice, in aggravation.

"However, I do mind things flying across my chambers at me first thing in the morning without an incantation to warn me not to move my head. Lest I be-."

Suddenly, a spoon cracked Severus in the back of the head and fell onto the couch. "Hit," he finished.

"Sorry, sir, I actually didn't summon the spoon. It just came along."

The Potions master did something out of the ordinary for him, he sighed and didn't yell about the spoon hitting him. He poured out his own tea and performed his own warming spell on it before his over-eager nephew could try and do anything else for him.

Severus cursed the fact that the Pomfrey couldn't watch over the boy, but Albus had been right, she couldn't know some things about his nephew. Now he had a crick in his neck from the couch and a bump on the head from a spoon hitting him at break-neck speed. Well, at least he was used to having to put up with the little minion and take care of him during and after those damned attacks.

"Focus, and the spoon wouldn't come along," he said finally, without too much malice.

"I did."

"Not good enough, apparently."

"Touche, sir. Sorry."

Professor Snape brushed it off. Even though Sage was pretty much the only person who offered him apologies, he still wasn't used to them. "How are you feeling?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Better. I'm ready to get back to classes I think. I just have a headache," Sage said, scratching his arm.

A slight smile formed around one corner of Snape's lips. "Well, you'll have to wait until Monday. It's Saturday morning."

"I slept that long! I had the attack on Thursday morning."

Severus huffed with aggravation. "In case you don't remember. The attack you had was really serious. You had red marks all over you. Don't take it so lightly. You need rest."

Sage sat back in surprise a bit. "I know, uncle, but it's over now."

"Is it?" Snape returned.

Sage closed the book on his lap and rested his elbows on it. Professor Snape could tell that the boy didn't have any idea what he had been insinuating.

"It isn't over. It won't ever be over. They are going to get worse. You had to sleep so long because your body can't take it. We need to find ways to build up your strength and resilience to it." But there were no instruction manuals that came with the magically anomalous.

"I wish it would just go away," Sage said softly.

"How many times have I told you. There will come a time when you will be happy to have them, happy to be what you are. Quit wishing it all away, it's childish and accomplishes nothing but making you look like a child."

Sage sat motionless. Why did his uncle have to raise his voice? It made his head feel like it was going to pop open and spew puss all over.

They just sat there staring at each other. Severus with aggravation, Sage with a pounding head. It was a minute before Sage blinked and looked down.

"I've told you many times before. They may be so painful now because you are young. True sight is very strong magic, too strong for a fourteen year old wizard-."

"Then why are they getting worse the older I get?" Sage interrupted him.

"Don't interrupt me and perhaps I will tell you..."

"Sorry sir, I'll listen."

Snape growled. "I think that they will continue to get worse for a time as you grow older and start to learn about your powers. Now is the time where what is inside of you will start to come out because you are learning to use it. It will seem to grow stronger, but what is really growing stronger is your awareness of it. When your body is stronger and your focus is stronger, I expect you will be able to control more aspects of your sight and other powers. Perhaps the pain, perhaps not."

"Do you thinks so? I mean, that I could make the pain go away myself, while still having the visions?"

"Not for sure, but with what we know about how magical powers work, it makes sense. Sage, any young wizard that performs too much or too advanced magic for their age suffers from many of the things you do only to a lesser extent: sickness and fatigue are common. Only difference is that you don't have a choice. Those powers that are supposed to come on gradually, are already in you full force. Dumbledore agrees that with time, you will outgrow it too."

Sage sat quietly for a few minutes trying to take in and understand what he had just been told. "What happens if I can't catch up to my powers, you know, physically and mentally. If I can't focus enough to control the visions?"

It was now Severus' turn to sit quietly. He stared blankly at Sage. What should he tell him, the truth? Did he even know the truth? He could tell him what he suspected, but that was a little much for the boy.

"We cannot be sure," he said finally.

"I have a right to know, sir. I know you have to have some idea. If I have to live this, then I need to know. Maybe it will help me."

Normally Professor Snape would have gotten angry at being questioned that way, but the boy did have a point. And it was his nephew, which privately won more tolerance from him than even the Slytherins.

They were expecting Sage to just be an adult, but they weren't treating him like much of one. Severus would have wanted to know, if he were Sage. He would have been frustrated too. He had to deal with pain that no adult should ever have to go through, the least he could do was tell him the truth. Even if the truth hurt.

"Already, the attacks are dangerous to you, you know that-."

"Uncle, please…" Sage said, knowing that his uncle was just dragging it out. Sugar-coating it. It was insulting.

Severus sighed resolutely and looked down at his nephew. Sage stared at him with those damn Malfoy eyes, those damn soft icy blue eyes. Finally, he spoke. "You will die, horribly. In pain."

Sage's face was blank as ever. It hadn't changed. Then he just opened the book back up on his lap and said, "Thank you, sir."

Severus looked at him for a minute reading the book, noticing the very strong front the boy was trying quite successfully to put up, and then he stood and walked out of the room, needing the same escape from the conversation that the boy found in hiding behind a book. He went to his classroom and started brewing that damn potion for the werewolf.

Professor Snape slowly began chopping ingredients for the Wolfsbane potion. He couldn't rid his thoughts of Jace, Sage's father, being tortured before finally being killed by the Dark Lord. Or Lily being killed with those big green eyes pleading, protecting her child. Or of Sage under the pain of the attacks.

As the images appeared in his mind, his chopping became furious before he suddenly stopped, the handle of the blade was cold in his hands. His hands were stark white and looked ghastly and unreal next to the darkness of the handle. He stared at the flesh with his dark eyes, before slamming the knife down on the table and scowling.

What was wrong with him, this wasn't like him? Normally he could keep all of these things in check. The boy must be having some effect on him. Seeing Sage all day everyday reminded him of his own half-brother, Jace, which reminded him of death.

Death. Death reminded him of so many different times, so many difficult times. Death that he caused, death that he witnessed, and death that he lamented. Death reminded him of Lily. Perfect sweet Lily Evans. His would-have-been savior if he hadn't been a stubborn prat of a boy.

Lily and Jace. Two people that Severus should have paid more attention to. Two people that Severus never had a chance to tell - . He shook his head. It didn't matter, they were gone. Not that he had even known then. It took one death to bring him back to reality and another death for him to fully understand that he could never be forgiven for what he had done. Everything in his life bore the mark of the consequences of his youthful idiocy, and it was a mark that could not go away. There was no washing it off.

He shook his head. The more pain Sage was in, the more it reminded Severus of his own buried pain, living with what he had inflicted on others much worse than anything he had personally endured.

The images made him angry, bitter, impatient, and intemperate. His other hand was gripped tightly around a bottle. Finally, he just threw it across the room and blue shards of glass scattered around the floor, some coming back so far as his feet he had thrown it so hard. It was either throw it, or his own wandless magic was going to explode it unintentionally right in his hand.

For someone who was used to being in control, he felt horridly no control. He had just told his nephew that he could die, which was true, but also that he, Severus Snape, could do nothing to prevent it. Well, he was teaching him, but ultimately it would be the boy and only the boy who could do anything about any of it.

The first step was getting Sage to accept his powers and that was difficult enough. Sage used them, yes, to the best of his ability, but he truly had no idea what the possibilities were. The powers were merely an amusement to him, while everyone else saw them either as a danger or as a rare and unmatchable gift.

Sage needed to push himself beyond what Severus was able to teach him. From what they knew about his kind, the power inside of him should drive him towards where he needed to be; the boy's magic was not typical wizard magic. There would be a point no one could take Sage any further because they were not the same.

Severus suspected that the one thing Sage was truly afraid of was himself and his own power. Most adults and surely the Ministry had done nothing to dispel that conception, because they were afraid of Sage too. Although he expected a lot, he was at least aware that his nephew was just a boy, even if he was a year older than most of the 3rd years, and there was a certain amount of immaturity to be expected. You could not just scare the boy and be scared of him simultaneously.

Severus was sure that Sage had learned about consequences and not just experienced them. Childish impulsivity was something that was not in Sage's repertoire of knowledge, and he rather hoped he did not learn any from the Gryffindors. That would make his nephew dangerous.