Title: Unexpected Grace
Author: Cocoa-Snape
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs exclusively to JKR...she is a goddess. I am making no money from this.
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Unexpected Grace by Cocoa-Snape
Chapter 4: The perfect amount
A week before the final triwizard task was set to begin, Dumbledore noticed that Severus was very quiet. Neither man could escape this thing they sensed looming over them, and it had led to many a solemn evening. But Dumbledore knew this was different.
"Severus, I know you are shouldering many burdens at present. It would be a shame to add to an already heavy load. I sense something else weighing upon you."
Snape shifted uncomfortably on the Headmaster's red couch. He spoke hesitantly, as if his words were bare feet treading on shards of glass, "I want to thank you for all your help these past weeks, Albus. It's just…controlling one's mind is much easier when you're…comfortable," he finished, finally settling on that word. A few moments later, he began nervously, unsure of how to string these difficult words together, "Do you think you could…" Snape looked down at the floor, "It's been so long, Albus…I'm worried I'll crumble."
Dumbledore knew suddenly what Severus wanted and did not waste any time before replying, "Absolutely not!"
"Please, Albus," Snape found himself imploring. Finding some measure of courage he said, in a voice too desperate to be his own, "Just for ten seconds, Albus. I just need to know that I can keep the walls up. I've forgotten what it feels like."
That was a lie. He hadn't forgotten. Such pain was not something one ever forgot. But it had been over 13 years and he needed to know.
"I will not inflict pain upon you, Severus," Dumbledore said in a harsh, firm voice, "Anything else. Not that."
Snape could see the frustration and anguish in Dumbledore's normally happy eyes and it took him aback. Suddenly very sorry he had opened his mouth in the first place, he added quickly, "Of course, Albus. I'm sorry I asked. It was wrong of me…"
Dumbledore raised his hand to stop Severus's apologies. He was angry. If only Severus knew that he was angry at himself – angry for having the nerve to ask Severus to return to that evil and not having the strength to grant Severus's request.
The two sat in awkward silence for a very long time. The more time passed, the less Snape could fathom his audacity at having asked Albus Dumbledore to cast an Unforgivable on him.
At some point, each sensing it was long past the time to begin their evening session, they both rose to their feet and stepped in the open space just outside the sitting room. Dumbledore removed his wand out of his robes – he was using his wand these days to exert increased force with the Legilimens spell. Snape was wandless, as always.
Not a word was uttered between them as Dumbledore entered Snape's mind. He began rapidly sifting through the younger wizard's memories with absurd ease. No matter how many times they had done this, Snape knew he would never get used to the experience of having someone inside his head, rifling through his most private thoughts. It left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, weak.
As Dumbledore began focusing his attentions on a specific group of memories, Snape fought to control and slow the elder wizard's progress. Their sessions these days were significantly more difficult as Dumbledore would not tell him what he was searching for – thereby mimicking Voldemort's invasions. It was up to Snape to figure out what questions the Legilimens wanted answered, what memories he was determined to see and then adjust accordingly with misdirection and concealment.
Dumbledore, Snape sensed, was moving over memories and emotions connected with himself. Before he could stop it, Dumbledore had retrieved and was viewing a very recent memory of the two of them having tea. Knowing full well that it would be disastrous should the Dark Lord glimpse a memory of his servant joking with his greatest enemy about not having ordered cardamom scones for him after another hard Occlumency session, Snape deftly altered the memory.
While Dumbledore talked about his day, Snape's overriding emotions were boredom and annoyance, and his thought, similarly tampered with, was 'If I have to listen to one more minute of his inane pedantic babble, I'm going to Apparate myself to the bottom of Hogwarts Lake.'
But Dumbledore was unrelenting. Applying considerable force upon this strand of thought, he successfully shattered Severus's emotional front.
Snape could hear Dumbledore's thoughts in his mind, "You let me get in too far, Severus."
"Damn it, Albus. What am I supposed to do under that kind of scrutiny?"
"You know exactly what to do – more diversion. Oh and clean up your overlay, your edges are slipping slightly."
Unable to fathom how Albus could possibly notice something he himself could not see, Snape snorted in frustration.
"Do you want to take a minute to regroup?"
"No," Snape replied stubbornly.
A moment later, Dumbledore seized on another memory, the two meeting in Snape's first year to discuss his syllabus. Dumbledore was giving Severus advice on teaching and the younger wizard seemed in a rage over it, thinking, 'You actually think I'm here to teach, don't you, you patronizing son of a bitch? Merlin I hate you and your pompous speeches, you self-aggrandizing bastard.'
Snape could feel the surge of pressure Dumbledore was exerting on his mental walls. He was demanding truth…he wanted to see. The compulsion was so strong, Snape thought Dumbledore must have also uttered the Imperius as he could almost hear the command in his brain, 'Show me, Severus.'
Snape's mind was like a dam about to give way. He could feel the splintering, then the crack as his barriers broke, releasing a sudden barrage of images.
A deep warmth spreading through his chest as he holds a golden piece of parchment in his hands.
A chuckle leaving his throat as he watches Albus making a mess of his beard with a jelly-filled donut.
His head sunk in a red pillow, fast asleep.
Snape firmly twisted on the strand of memories, at last curbing Dumbledore's access, but not before Dumbledore could instruct, "That wall needs to be much firmer, Severus."
"I realize that!" Snape huffed in annoyance. "But I'm not Merlin, Albus!"
"You don't need to be, Severus. Here, let me show you."
Barely a moment later, Severus felt Dumbledore entering the recesses of his mind, but not as before – instead of overbearing force, this was more akin to the pressure of an embrace.
"Emotions are entities unto themselves. Don't hide them, Severus. Blend them into the folds of your mind. Make them indecipherable…"
Before Snape could begin to fathom how one could do that, he felt the answer.
Albus was gently guiding him to channel his emotions to a deep fold in his mind. He could suddenly feel the very edges of Albus's magic brushing his own and then adjusting it…transmuting his magical energy into something singularly stronger, into a power he did not know he could possess. The completed camouflage was spectacular and Snape briefly wondered if this was what Albus's mind was like.
The task now complete, Dumbledore released his hold on Severus's mind. And for the first time since their sessions had begun, Severus Snape felt startled by the loss.
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On his way back to the dungeons, Snape's thoughts were spinning in a tumultuous whirlwind. This latest foray into Occlumency had left him astonished. He had never doubted that Dumbledore's skill was without bound, but to actually be able to see it, to feel it, was something else entirely.
Nevertheless, the session had left him embarrassed by his inadequacy. He had wanted to show Albus that he could do better; he had been desperate to impress him. Snape ran his fingers through his hair, surprised at the solidity of the skull beneath. He would never admit it to the elder wizard, but he did not like closing their sessions feeling beaten. And so far Dumbledore had won.
When he arrived in Dumbledore's sitting room the following evening, he commanded a steely countenance. Dumbledore was halted in mid-sitting motion when Snape proclaimed, "Let's begin shall we," in a tone that was anything but questioning.
Being faced with this new sense of urgency, Dumbledore responded in kind. He immediately entered Snape's mind with enormous force and once again Snape was faced with the memory of the two having tea. This time Snape was well-prepared. Heeding Dumbledore's earlier advice, he capitalized on diversionary tactics, sending the other man a slew of other memories, each more emotionally dense than the next, essentially 'burying' Dumbledore in a pile of rubbish.
Once Dumbledore had extracted himself from the mess Severus had deliberately created, he again subjected the hold of Severus's walls to an exacting pressure, attempting to summon a positive memory of himself. But apparently there were none to be had; more pressure on Dumbledore's behalf only released a memory of Snape's choosing. Dumbledore recognized it at once.
Severus, before the Holidays of his sixth year, is asking the Headmaster as he passes him in the hall to be allowed to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas.
At the time, the rules had not permitted students to stay. Dumbledore had changed the rules the next year on Severus's account, but by then it was too late.
"I'm sorry, Severus, but Hogwarts' rules don't allow for students to stay."
"I can't leave, sir, please."
"Why is that, Severus?"
The young Snape hesitates, apparently considering whether to tell the Headmaster the truth. Dumbledore misses the younger man's hesitation, his mind burdened with a new report he has heard that morning on the rising threat of Voldemort.
"I have research to do in the library, sir. You won't even know I'm here. Please."
"I'm sorry, Severus, but the answer is no."
"But you're letting Lupin stay," the boy snaps.
"He is a special case. Professor Wilkes had agreed to look after him as he has no home to go to."
Severus thinks about telling Dumbledore, 'You call what I have a home? My mother's dead and my bastard of a father all but killed her.' But he remains silent and walks away.
Moments later, Severus is intercepted by Rosier, who brags about his early prediction, "I told you he never cared about you. Why don't you come stay with me? My father says we have an invitation from the Malfoys for New Year's. You can come. Avery and Wilkes are coming too."
Severus looks relieved at the opportunity to get away from home and accepts the invitation.
Dumbledore knew Severus hadn't needed to modify that memory. It had done the work for him. Now he was demanding another memory, summoning something Severus would hope to keep secret from behind his tightly kept defenses. Yet again, the memory delivered was not what Dumbledore was expecting, and what is more it was not a memory that Dumbledore was particularly keen on revisiting. But Dumbledore had to hand it to Severus, he was controlling his mental access masterfully. The anger in these memories was palpable – something Voldemort would undoubtedly love to see.
It is towards the end of Severus's sixth year, the year of the Shrieking Shack incident and Severus has just learned of the consequences (or lack thereof) to the Marauders.
"Severus, I'm sorry that Mr. Lupin's situation prevents me from taking stronger action against Mr. Black," the Headmaster says calmly.
Snape's rage is radiating off his body as he shouts, "So what you're saying is that my life is meaningless because I'm not one of your precious fucking Gryffindors?"
"I will not stand for that language, Mr. Snape. It seems to me you want revenge instead of justice. You have every right to be angry. But I don't think punishing Mr. Lupin is the right thing to do here."
"Of course not!" Snape says mockingly, "Why would you punish them? They're all you give a shit about. You pretend to care, but you don't, you just turn a blind eye to everyone else, unless they make a mistake. Then you notice."
"You're wrong. I do care about you, Severus," Dumbledore replies solemnly.
Snape's face contorts into an ugly sneer as he spits violently, "Don't you ever call me that again! Not ever again! I can't believe I ever cared about what you thought of me. At least today taught me how stupid I was to ever give a damn about that."
As the memory faded away, Dumbledore had to admit, Severus was painting a very convincing picture of his disdain for him. In fact, he could more than see it, he could now feel it, emanating off of every strand of memory and thought in Severus's mind – the pure unmitigated hatred was like an impenetrable cloud. Dumbledore could sense Severus's emotions bubbling up all around him. How much he hated Dumbledore's smile, his cheery facade that schemed and manipulated others. How he simultaneously envied and dreaded his power, wanting it all for himself so that he could end this mock servitude that now was his life.
Dumbledore exerted considerable pressure once again, demanding detail – demanding to see more than old school memories and short snippets of thoughts and emotions. Snape responded without any effort – he sent the memory he needed crashing on Dumbledore's senses.
Dumbledore wasn't too surprised at what it was, but was impressed with the way Severus had put it together. It was an argument over another DADA appointment, but Severus carefully adjusted the memory to skirt or exclude the fact that the argument was concerned less about Severus actually wanting the position than it was about whom Dumbledore had chosen in his stead.
Severus had applied for the position every year, in part with the quixotic hope that he might one day get the job, in part out of the necessity of proving to Voldemort that he was ambitious as ever. But despite all this, Severus understood Albus's reasons for denying him the post – he even agreed with him. But Lupin? This was adding insult to injury. The public was already of the general opinion that Dumbledore did not trust him enough to give him the job, which was humiliating enough, but now to give it to Lupin – Snape found this to be a painful betrayal.
Dumbledore cringed slightly as the memory hit him. It had been their worst argument since Severus had taken up the Potions position and it had not even been two years ago.
Both men stand on opposite sides of Dumbledore's desk.
"Headmaster, I must express my concern with your appointment of that werewolf."
"His name is Remus Lupin," Dumbledore corrects.
"Headmaster, this is preposterous!" Snape fumes. "I said nothing when you appointed that incompetent narcissist Lockhart, but—"
"I remember you saying quite a great deal."
"Not nearly as much as I wanted to say," Snape snaps.
"I'm sure."
"But if you expect me to keep quiet about this…"
"Hoped, would be a better word," Dumbledore replies evenly.
"Are you mocking me, Headmaster? Because this is intolerable."
The memory skipped forward.
Snape is still on his feet, fists clenched tightly at his sides, but Dumbledore is seated in his chair, looking positively worn out.
Dumbledore interrupts Snape mid-sentence, "Severus, you are exhausting me. Can we please call it a night?"
As if he didn't hear Dumbledore, Snape continues with fervor, as though he were saying something new, something different than he had been saying for the past hour. "A werewolf, Albus? A werewolf!"
"Hisname, Severus," Dumbledore replies, with increasing agitation, "is Remus Lupin, and I think your argument is with him personally. You need to let go, Severus."
Apparently this was the wrong thing to say because it only seemed to fuel Snape further. A new rage enters his eyes as he shouts, "How can I, when you continue to treat me like a second class citizen?"
"I've explained the reasons behind my decision to you many times, Severus," Dumbledore responds calmly. "Don't make this about that. You know I meant that you need to let go of your previous disagreements with Remus."
"Disagreement? He tried to kill me!"
"Now you know perfectly well that's not true. He had no part in that."
Snape stops for a moment, the dejected disbelief visible on his face. When he speaks, his words are harsh, an angry whisper, "Even now you favor them over me. Even now! I've given you 12 years…"
"I don't recall ever forcing you to stay, Severus."
The words hit Snape like a slap in the face. His body shakes as he speaks, "You want me to leave then? Is that what this is about? Your way of forcing me out?"
"Now you're putting words in my mouth. I only meant to say that you are free to leave if you are truly unhappy. You know I want you to stay."
"And next year?" Snape retorts, his voice raised once again.
"We will undoubtedly be having the same argument," Dumbledore replies with a defeated expression.
"And who will you appoint to the post then? Perhaps you can convince Azkaban to let Black out for a year. A murderer would seem to be a fitting choice given the pattern," Snape sneers with a savage glint in his eyes.
"Severus—" Dumbledore begins.
Snape interrupts sharply, his tone mocking, "I suppose it's good to know you draw the line at Death Eaters having the post."
"Severus—" Dumbledore says sharply, his voice a warning.
"What you must think of me!" Snape snarls now, spit flying out of his mouth. "If you'd rather appoint a dangerous monster to the position rather than me."
"Severus, That is enough!" Dumbledore shouts, slamming his hand down on his desk. "I am finished speaking with you about this matter. It is getting us nowhere. And for future reference, as Headmaster, I don't appreciate accusations of ineptitude."
Snape struggles to control his breathing and immediately lowers his eyes, as if remembering his place. "Of course, Headmaster," he replies in a low voice.
But his thoughts are apparently not nearly so submissive…
'How pathetic you are. So powerful and yet completely unaware that I despise you with every fiber of my being. What a narcissistic bastard you are to think that I continue to swear my allegiance to you – you who think my life less than worthless. The day I see you dead will be the happiest of my life.'
Dumbledore had seen more than enough. He disengaged him from Severus's mind so abruptly, Snape felt jarred by the release. He watched as Dumbledore made his way over to his favorite sitting room armchair and slumped down, apparently exhausted, looking every bit his age.
"I think you are more than ready, Severus," Dumbledore began in a whisper. "That was certainly…very convincing."
"Albus?" Snape inquired, moving to sit on the familiar red couch across from the elder wizard. He had a frown of his own and was clearly startled by the troubled look on Dumbledore's face.
The silence that followed was so uncomfortable that Snape was determined to break it, even though he had no idea what to say. Surely Dumbledore didn't think all of that was real?
"Albus, surely you don't think…"
"I know, Severus. Of course I know."
The dejection in Dumbledore's voice was truly frightening. Before Snape could think of a reply, Dumbledore continued in a voice so soft that Snape struggled to catch the words, "Your life is far from worthless to me, Severus."
"What?" Snape asked, his brow crinkled in confusion. Suddenly remembering his last overlaid thought, 'What a narcissistic bastard you are to think that I continue to swear my allegiance to you – you who think my life less than worthless,' Snape became desperate to correct Dumbledore's misperceptions. "Albus, don't you see…I was thinking about the Dark Lord. Those words were meant for him, not you!"
"I know that, Severus. I know that…"
But what Snape perceived as wounded feelings, Dumbledore felt keenly as guilt. Here he was preparing to send Severus back to a life of servitude to Voldemort, a life he had provoked once before. The recognition of this horrifying link, manifested all too well in the slippage of one man's memories for the other, was almost impossible to bear.
Still very troubled by Dumbledore's despondency, Snape insisted, "Those were overlaid emotions, Albus. I would never think—"
"Ahh, but now you're lying to me, Severus. Not all of it was tampered with, as you well know. You did once feel that way about me."
It was petty and even a little ridiculous, Dumbledore knew, to turn their attentions back upon the past, especially given all that was required in the present, but the idea that Severus had hated him, even once, long ago, left a burning ache in his chest that he could not understand.
In the meantime, Snape, who had been momentarily halted by Dumbledore's correction, commenced in reply with an honesty that shocked even himself, "If I ever felt that way about any of it, Albus, I can barely remember why except that I was a foolish arse. I made the worst mistake of my life when I yielded to my feelings of betrayal and rejection. Nothing could have played better into the Dark Lord's hands. I should have come to you."
"That may be the case, Severus, but you had good reason to be angry with me, and I daresay even to hate me," Dumbledore concluded with a sigh.
I hated you because I loved you, you fool. I just didn't know it.
How Snape wished he could say something, to tell Dumbledore just that.
In the absence of words, and at a loss for what to do, Snape reverted to an old trick of Dumbledore's. He poured him a cup of tea, pushed it towards him, and urged his friend to drink.
"Albus, please have some tea," Snape pleaded.
For once in his life, Dumbledore did not seem the least bit interested in tea. Snape, feeling distraught and not a little alarmed, retrieved the proffered cup again and began urgently preparing Albus's tea for him. He gave a healthy squeeze of lemon and then added an obscene amount of honey. The perfect amount, Dumbledore noted, a twinkle in his eyes.
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Author's note: First and foremost, apologies for my update speed. Unfortunately, I am beyond busy these days...as I am just starting a new job. I beg for your patience and consideration. While I cannot promise much of an improvement, my updates (while they may be infrequent) will not stop until the story is complete - that much I can promise.
I wonder sometimes if my writing is too subtle to the point of being unclear. For example...the meaning of what Albus extracted from Severus: "His head sunk in a red pillow, fast asleep." Clearly our dear Headmaster did not get it, but given that this is supposed to be a positive 'memory' of Albus, I hope you knew what I meant here. It eludes back to chapter 1...where Severus is fast asleep on Dumbledore's red couch post-confession. This couch/sitting room is his sanctuary and hence so has become the color red with Severus now associates with Albus. Too bad Dumbledore didn't get to see more. No telling what he would have seen next! yum
Once again, ((bear hugs)) and ((unrestrained kisses)) to all those who have reviewed. I'm the biggest kid when I see I've gotten a review for this story.
I want to once again thank my other half, my partner M, for her remarkable work on this chapter. Once again, she has outdone herself and pushed me to new heights.
I hope you all continue reading this story of mine. I simply adore writing it...if that doesn't sound too narcissistic. But something about this unrealized ADSS relationship completely infatuates me. I only hope I'm doing it some measure of justice.
The next chapter I promise (if I dare do that without disappointing) will be huge in terms of plot. It begins with Dumbledore waiting for Severus, the morning after Snape returns to Voldemort for the 'first' time at the end of GoF. Dumbledore is very worried - as he should be - because things are not too good for our Potions Master.
Please review and give the author a huge smile on her silly face!