Dreamwalk
A/N the dreamwalk spell and draco inferio spells are my own creation
Amelia Amarotti's scream echoed through the tiny house, causing Severus to drop
the crucible with the healing salve he'd been decanting. Thick blue liquid splattered all over the floor of his lab, and the crucible smacked loudly onto the flagstones. He swore softly, not at the mess, which didn't concern him all that much, but at the fact that the woman he loved was still tormented by the dark wizard she'd killed, a man called Kittrick Slade.
Another nightmare, he thought darkly, bolting up the stairs, nearly sending himself sprawling as his foot caught on the rickety third stair. Damn! Been meaning to fix that.
He sprang up the last two stairs, dashed down the hallway, then took a right into the den. Their bedroom was just off the den, she'd fallen asleep waiting for him to come to bed, he'd been working late on a new healing potion, one to cure burns caused by dragonfire.
He'd almost had it finished when he'd heard Amelia scream. That didn't matter now either. All that mattered now was Amelia.
He yanked open the door to the bedroom. It was dark, though the moonlight streaming in the window illuminated the restless thrashing figure in the double bed.
"Lumos!" Snape hissed and the tip of his wand lit up.
He quickly lit the lamps on the side of the bed, then went to the whimpering Dark Hunter, took her by the shoulders and shook her sharply.
"Amelia! Wake up! Right now!" he made his voice harsh, nasty, even though he hated himself for using that tone on her. But he'd learned the hard way that the only way she could escape the nightmare was if he was stern and unbending as iron. Sweet and gentle got nowhere.
She jerked in his arms like a puppet on a string. Her eyes opened wide, staring at something only she could see. Slowly, she blinked.
"Amelia, look at me!" he ordered. "Come back to me!"
She gasped, then woke, gazing at him, trembling with shock, like a lost child. "Oh God, Sev! It was him, he was there in my head. I couldn't get him out of my mind, I can still feel him there, he won't leave!"
"Shhh. You're okay. It was a dream, just a dream," he soothed, drawing her into his arms. "He's dead, remember? You sent him down to hell and he can't hurt you or anyone else ever again."
She buried her face in his shirt, her shoulders heaving with suppressed sobs. "I think he came back from hell, Severus. He's haunting me, I swear it. Every night I dream of him, I can't get rid of him, he's always in the back of my head. Help me, Sev, please! I
can't take this anymore."
"Neither can I," he heaved a sigh. "Amelia, love, there's only one way I can help you. You've got to let me inside your head, so I can walk through the dream with you. I know it's hard, but you've got to trust me."
"I do. I do. But I'm so ashamed . . .I'm letting a ghost and a memory terrify me. . ." she sniffled.
"Hey, we've all got our own personal demons, isn't that what you keep telling me? Slade's yours, my father's mine, one of them anyway . . .You know I'll never pry into your thoughts without your permission, I've got more control than that," he murmured, stroking her back over and over. "Come on, sweetheart. Drop your shields
and let me in, won't you?"
"Okay." The word trembled off her lips, she was shaky but still defiant. Her blue eyes met his dark ones.
He hated seeing her so vulnerable, her confidence battered to pieces, scared and weeping like a little child afraid of the dark. Or what lived in the dark, which was ultimately more horrifying. There was good reason for her to be scared, as he knew all too well, for she had looked upon the face of real nightmares. Those who
have seen the face of evil are forever scarred by it.
The way she was looking at him now reminded him of his mother, Eileen Prince Snape. Amelia had that same pleading helpless look in her eyes, he could recall the exact stare on his mother after one of Tobias' rages.
It had always made him feel like crying, yet at the same time angry that he could do nothing to drive away the monster that was hurting her.
Except this time he could, he reminded himself. He knew how to fight back now, to drive the monster Slade away for good and all.
All he had to do was take a walk with Amelia through her own private hell. Face what you fear and it loses power over you. That was a truth any good Auror knew.
But saying it and doing it were two different things.
This was the first time she'd actually agreed to let him inside her mind, despite the nightmares' increasing frequency. Like him, she valued her independence and privacy, at first she'd refused to even admit she couldn't deal with the dreams on her own. Six nights straight of screaming herself hoarse and crying herself to sleep in his
arms had finally cracked her stubborn pride.
"Breathe with me now, Amy," he urged, taking one deep breath and then exhaling slowly for a count of ten. He did that four more times, until her breathing was back to normal, not the panicked gasps of a hunted animal. "Good, very good. Now breathe in and hold for a count of three. One. Two. Three. Exhale. Again."
Slowly he coaxed her into the meditative trance so crucial to his
dreamwalking spell.
This was very advanced magic, a non-verbal wandless spell that required the deepest concentration and commitment by the caster. Only a wizard skilled in mind disciplines such as Occlumency and Legilimency could even attempt to cast it. Not only did it require discipline over mind and emotions, it also made one vulnerable to
being read by the person the spell was cast on. There was no way to
avoid it, in order to walk another's memories and help he or she
overcome them, you had to open your own mind in turn.
That was why it was used so infrequently and only in the direst circumstances. Such as this one, when all other Memory Charms had failed.
You're crazy, Snape, a part of his mind—the selfish
part—hissed. If you cast dreamwalk she'll be able to see all of your
secrets, every awful thing you've ever done, including betraying Lily
to her enemies.
So what? he snarled back. Maybe I'm tired of hiding my past from her, maybe she ought to know the truth about the real Severus Snape, so then she can decide once and for all if she truly loves me, all of me, good and bad. This was the only way to break the vicious cycle Amelia was suffering through, and if the risks were great, so too was the reward. My whole life has been one risk after another. Might as well make it count, Snape. Faint heart ne'er won fair lady.
With that, he centered himself, and looked deep into her aqua eyes, falling down an endless black tunnel, merging his thoughts with hers . . .
Only to emerge on a deserted street somewhere in rural Virginia, where reports from the DHIA (Dark Hunter Intelligence Agency) had placed the latest sighting of the dark wizard Kittrick Slade, who called himself the Black Widow.
Over twenty deaths were attributed to him, his preferred victims were women and children, usually between five and twenty-six. He made no distinction between Muggle and wizard, slaying both without discrimination. An equal opportunity murderer.
He liked to play with his prey before he killed, often torturing the mother in front of the child, or vice versa. He enjoyed blood and pain, it gave him a rush like no other.
The files on his victims told Amelia the methods and time of death, but nothing could prepare her for actually touching Slade's mind, immersing herself in his twisted soul so she could track him down.
The feel of his mind on hers was nauseating, like stepping into a vat of untreated sewage naked. His emotions were murky, covered with black scum, the cold satisfaction of a remorseless killer rejoicing in his own cleverness, and reveling in the agony of his victims.
She recalled little Viola Johnson, just turned seven, one of his
early victims, and was immediately assaulted by the image of Slade hurting her.
Worse even than the blood-drenched memory was the feeling that came with it—the sick satisfaction of having snared another victim, the pleasure her screams evoked . . .
She'd thrown herself out of the link, revolted to the core of her being, and ended up on her knees on the side of the road, retching up her toenails.
Oh good God, I can't do this. I really can't. I was only feeling him for a few seconds and it's made me so sick . . .Tears streamed down her face and she fought to keep from vomiting again.
I can't do this.
But I have to. I have to. For all those poor kids and their moms, all their families, who'll never get to see them grow up, graduate, grow old together. I HAVE to do this. I'm the only one who can.
She was a Dark Hunter, it was her job to catch monsters like Slade and bring them to justice, or a swift death, whichever came first. She sensed that Slade would never submit to the indignity of a prison sentence, he'd prefer to fight to the death. And death was what he would have when she faced him at last,
she vowed. He deserved Inferio—Fireball—at the very least. But first she must find him and the only way to defeat his masking spells was with her empathic talent.
The very darkness of his emotions and their coldness made it child's play for one of her power to track him, it was like waving a red flag
in front of a bull. It was accustoming herself to his awful touch that was hard.
Twice more she attempted to cast her mind forth, empathically seeking him. Twice more her mind brushed his and she flinched away, unable to make contact.
Stop it, dammit! You have to do this, now quit whining and just do it! Are you a Dark Hunter or a coward crybaby? The third time she succeeded, urged on by her stinging mental scorn. The dark slimy muck of Slade's feelings oozed over into her mind, but this time she was prepared and she gritted her teeth mentally and hung on.
Where are you, you psycho? Show me where you are, what you're planning.
She couldn't get a whole picture, only fragments, but she could sense he was wary, and worried about police coming from the west. He was far away from her at this time, perhaps in the mountains, but she could find him.
Over the next few days she touched Slade's mind many times, so delicately he never knew he was being spied on. Gradually it became a little easier, though the initial contact still made her shudder and feel ill. But that was nothing compared to what
those women and children had endured.
No one heard them scream, except that maniac. But I swear they'll be remembered, if I have to build their memorial with my own two hands.
She chased him through Virginia and Maryland, at last bringing him to bay in Pennsylvania, in a deserted farmhouse that had once belonged to some Amish people. His latest victim was also there, and she was final witness to the fact that Hunter Amarotti followed procedure to the letter, telling him who she was and demanding he surrender to the U.S.M.A. (United States Magical Association) on
charges of murder, torture, and the use of forbidden magic. He had snarled a string of profanity at her that had ended with, "Crucio!"
She'd blocked it, sensing it was coming through the link, and responded with, "Draco Inferio!"—Dragonfire—an offensive spell that Fireflash, her former partner, had showed her.
He'd not been expecting that—or her. He'd grown overconfident and arrogant, convinced that his concealment spells and charms were all he needed to avoid the Dark Hunters. Having Hunter Amarotti appear in that farmhouse really shook him up. Then she blocked the most powerful spell in his arsenal and cast one he'd
never heard of, much less learned the countercharm to.
Draco Inferio worked as quickly as Fireflash had said it would. She'd pointed her finger, said two words and let her rage at what he was and had done, both to her and others, power the spell.
A burst of bluish-gold fire erupted from her finger and hit him squarely in the face. He'd gone up like a firework at the Fourth of July.
It was quick, a better death than the others he'd dealt. Yet his dying scream still haunted her. As did what she had seen and felt in his twisted mind.
Chief Hamilton had been sympathetic when she'd explained to him about the nightmares and flashbacks, he'd recommended some counseling, which she'd gone to dutifully. But Analyst McGraw hadn't been able to help her, his Memory Charm had failed, and he couldn't comprehend the depth of the evil she'd touched. Within a
month the nightmares were back, worse than ever.
This time they'd begun to seriously affect her job performance, she wasn't sleeping and in her exhausted state she screwed up an easy collar. End result, the chief pulled her from active duty, put her on sabbatical medical leave. "Until you straighten out your head, Amarotti. I'm real sorry, I know that Slade was enough to make anyone nuts, and we're all grateful to you for putting him on ice, but I think it's time for you to take a long vacation. Why don't you go to Britain, I hear Scotland's beautiful this time of year, relax, have fun, and forget about all of this?"
"Yes, sir. That sounds like good advice, sir," she answered, gritting her teeth so hard she was surprised they didn't fall out. You just don't get it, do you? I can't just forget about Slade, not when I've been living in his head for over three weeks. Dead or not, a part of him still lingers and it's driving me mad.
Everyone thinks all I have to do is forget, but they're wrong. Nobody understands what kind of hell he put me through, what it did to me. It marked me somehow and I'm scared to death to find out it's permanent, and I don't want to relive all of those awful memories again, even if it's the only way I'll ever be free of them. All I want is to find a quiet place to rest, somewhere peaceful, where I can hide and be safe.
"Only you'll never be safe or at peace until you confront what you fear, Amelia
Amarotti," Severus intoned sternly, appearing at her elbow. "You know that as well as I do."
"What? Sev, is that you? What the blazes are you doing here?"
"Helping you." He held out a hand. "Come with me. Let's take a look at what's scaring you about those dreams."
"Memories."
"Semantics." He waved a hand dismissively. "Let's go. It's time to lay Slade's ghost to rest once and for all."
She shrank from him, a look of abject terror on her face. "No! You want me to go back. I can't, please don't make me, Sev! You don't want to see what I saw, feel the things I felt. You can't understand . . ."
"But I can. I grew up with an abusive monster, I watched him hurt my mother and she watched him hurt me, day after day, just like those victims of Slade's. I knew acquaintances at school who were cruel vicious beasts who loved using curses and hexes to torture the innocent and like you I was helpless to prevent it. I know what it's
like to live in hell, Amelia, nobody knows better." He grabbed her arm, holding her fast. "Come with me now and we'll walk through those memories together and I'll lead you out safely to the other side. Nothing will hurt you so long as I'm there. Nothing ever. Trust me. Face your fear and you vanquish it."
"I know. But I can't do this, not now, Severus!" she tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
"Now's the best time. Quit fighting me."
"Let me go, damn you! I'm not ready. Please, Severus, don't make me go back there." Tears were streaming down her face.
"You have to, it's the only way."
"No! If you love me, Severus Snape, don't make me! Please!"
"Sorry." It cost him everything he had not to give into her, but he clenched his jaw and turned a deaf ear to her heartrending pleas.
"You can't run away any more. That's not an option. I love you too damn much to let this rule you."
"No, you don't. That's a bloody lie!" she raged.
"You know it's not. You're probably going to hate me for this, but too bad." He set his jaw, then he snatched her up and tossed her over his shoulder. "Hell, I'm going to hate myself for this."
"NO! Don't take me there!" she beat on his shoulder in a frenzy. "Let me go, Snape, right now!"
"Can't. I'm really sorry but you need to see this."
Ignoring her wails he hauled her back through her mind, though she fought him every step of the way. She threw guilt and terror at him, and only his shields enabled him to block the onslaught. Bloody hell, but she's so strong! She almost threw me out of her mind. Got to concentrate, Snape, can't let her get to you like that, but it's like
holding onto a bloody dragon's tail. The dreamscape shuddered, bucking and wavering as she attempted to wrest it from him. He projected calm and love at her for all he was worth. Stop it, I'm trying to help you! Trust me.
In the end his will prevailed, bolstered by determination and love, and because a part of her had agreed to this, he was able to return with her to the scene of her first encounter with Slade's mind.
Once again, she relived that moment, in all of its shame and terror.
"You see? I was going to give up, I was going to let him walk, because I was too much of a coward to touch his mind."
"But you didn't. You endured and you went after him. You chose right in the end."
"But I hesitated. Dark Hunters should never hesitate."
"Where's that written?" he sneered. "Pretty lame excuse. So you were scared. Big deal. So's everyone. But you didn't let it stop you."
"I almost did. It cost me time finding him."
"Almost doesn't count. Quit wallowing in guilt, Amarotti. An hour more less wouldn't have changed anything. Come on, there's lots more to see."
He pulled her onward.
Together they went back through all of her memories, each and every one that Slade had tainted with his presence. He forced her to confront them, goading her with a combination of razor sarcasm and iron-hard truth, making her look into the face of the beast and then move on. The wrong was Slade's, not hers, she should not feel guilt
for what he had done or felt. "You can't save everyone, Amarotti. Be glad you did what you could."
It was horrible, it hurt like hell, but it had to be done. Self- doubt was crippling her, eating her alive. It would finish her as a Dark Hunter if it kept up much longer. And they needed her too badly to lose her now.
Thus he bullied her, driving her to exorcise her demons, battling alongside her to lessen the impact Slade's evil had upon her soul. He knew exactly how it felt, as he'd gone through the same thing with Dumbledore, a day after making the Unbreakable Vow.
Dumbledore had resurrected the ghosts of his childhood and adolescence, things he had buried in the deepest darkest hole in his mind, and had made him face them.
In that way he would be less vulnerable to Voldemort, better able to withstand him should he return and manage to come prowling into Snape's memories, there would be less trauma for The Dark Wizard to use against the younger wizard.
"Insurance," Dumbledore had called it. "A necessary evil."
"Damn bloody sadist," was what he'd called the older magician, after one particularly nasty session left him curled up on the office floor, crying uncontrollably like the seven-year-old he'd been.
Dumbledore had said much the same thing Snape had to Amelia, "Sorry, but it's for your own good, you can hate me all you want, but it won't stop me."
Though not even Dumbledore dared to explore the more recent past just yet, sensing the younger man had dealt with enough just confronting the terrors of his childhood, any more and he might snap.
He left that for another time, when the wounds made by reopening these particular memories had healed fully.
Snape had said afterwards that he never would have figured Dumbledore to have guts enough to take him apart like that and then put him back together.
Dumbledore had laughed, not unkindly, and replied, "I'm not always the kind, doddering, innocent old man I seem, Severus."
Then he'd taught Snape the dreamwalk spell, saying one never knew when it might come in handy.
Sometimes Snape wondered if the Headmaster wasn't a Seer as well as the strongest wizard in the world. Either way, those sessions had left him with a great deal of respect for the elder wizard, more than he'd ever had for his own father.
But more importantly, he'd learned from Dumbledore how to help Amelia. They were at the final scene, the battle between Slade and Amelia. She cast the Draco Inferio spell, Slade died.
"I shouldn't have used that spell," she lamented.
"Would you have preferred Avada Kedavra then?"
"No. I should have strangled the scumbag with my bare hands.
Then he would have known the meaning of true agony."
"Oh, but he does," Snape assured her. "Whatever hell took him in, I'm sure he's suffering the same way he made his victims suffer. Including you."
"Me? I wasn't one of his victims. They're all dead, except that last woman."
"I'd say you were a casualty of war too, my dear. What we just did was nothing to sneer at. Only a handful of wizards would have been able to walk your mind and deal with what waited there. But now it's done and over with."
He set her back on her feet. They were back where they'd started, on that deserted Virginia road, only this time there was no sense of danger or foreboding.
"I suppose I should thank you for that, Sev, but all I want to do is slug you in the jaw."
"I felt the same way after Dumbledore did it to me," he admitted candidly.
Her eyes narrowed. "But he didn't finish the job. You still have a shadow hovering over you."
He grimaced. "I know. It's not something I'm proud of."
"Let me help you the way you did me."
"Uh, no. I'd rather not," he said quickly, backing away.
"Too damn bad," she growled. Then she grabbed his hand. "What was it you said to me, Mr. Snape? Now's the best time. Let's take a walk, Severus."
"You aren't going to like what you find there. There are things in my past I've never told you," he warned, feeling his stomach clench.
"Like I wanted you to see what really happened to me, Sev? I'm an empath, my love. The deepest darkest secrets of the human soul are no stranger to me, not after Slade. And if I can face his, I can face yours too. Trust me."
"Oh, hell. Might as well get it over with," he grumbled sourly. "Just remember, I did warn you, Amelia."
"I love you, I really do, but you need to see this. Let's go, Severus."
She tugged him into another misty gray tunnel, and he followed reluctantly, like a sulky child dreading a beating.
"So now you know the truth. All of it. What do you think now, Amelia Amarotti?" Snape demanded, his lip curling into what would become a trademark sneer of disgust. "Am I worth saving, former Death Eater that I am? Can you love a man who was tempted into darkness?"
"I can. Because that man had the courage to walk away. All of us have flirted with darkness at one point or another. Few of us ever act on it. Fewer still travel the dark road and choose to leave it, never to return. Given the life you had, it's a miracle you chose to come back to the light."
"Love brought me back."
"Yes. Your love for Lily."
Snape shook his head vehemently. "No. Not Lily. You, Amelia. I felt guilt and remorse over her death, and it was that which led me to Dumbledore. But what I felt for Lily was puppy love, a silly schoolboy crush. I know that now. It was but a shadow of what
I feel for you. Regret and remorse started me down the path to redemption,Dumbledore gave me a purpose to strive for, but you're what made me walk the rest of the way into the light again. Only you and no one else. You're the very best thing in my life, Amelia."
"As you are to me. You don't have to be perfect, I'll love you anyway. Now don't you think it's time you forgave yourself, Severus Snape, so you can get on with your life? I'm starting to get impatient."
"All right. I made a mistake, but I forgive myself for it. Let the past remain in the past, it has no power over me. There! It's done," he declared softly, feeling the tremendous weight of guilt tear free of his soul. For the first time in over five years he was free of the dark taint.
He looked at Amelia and smiled, tears trickling down his face. "This is the real Severus Snape. Thank you so much. Now let's go home. A gentleman never keeps a lady waiting."
He clasped her hand in his own and together they walked back from dreams into reality once more. This time no shadows haunted their footsteps.
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