Title: Unexpected Grace
Author: Cocoa-Snape (aka CocoaSnape)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs exclusively to JKR…she is a goddess. I am making no money from this and I intend no copyright infringement.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Unexpected Grace
by CocoaSnape
Chapter 11: Much more dangerous
Very little compared to sleeping in one's bed, Snape noted as he climbed under the covers. He'd been out of the hospital wing for a few days now and had relished reclaiming his privacy and sanity in his Pomfrey-free quarters.
It was still rather early for bedtime by Snape's standards, but he had a big day come tomorrow. Albus had informed him that if he still planned on using the time turner, he ought to as soon as possible, since the limits of its usefulness were fast approaching. Albus had also insisted on a good night's sleep in order to ease the transition into the new time period.
Snape had hoped to be in slightly better physical condition before traveling back the requisite weeks. He was still using a cane to walk, but with the right spells he could manage short distances without it, albeit with a pronounced limp. That would have to be good enough. He planned to leave first thing in the morning, after receiving some last minute instructions from Albus.
Not more than a few minutes after he laid down for the night, Snape jolted upright, clutching his suddenly aching left arm. He grit his teeth as the stabbing pain intensified and waited for it to transform into that terrifying familiar dull ache.
Eyeing the writhing snake, burning dark and angry on his forearm, Snape's heart began to race and he found it difficult to catch his breath.
He hadn't quite been expecting this yet – being summoned so soon after his last encounter, an encounter that had left him so near death. But, Snape reminded himself, it had been over a month since he'd last seen that madman. And no doubt the Dark Lord wanted to see how his servant had fared. Snape dressed hurriedly and steeled his mind, preparing to do what he might to prove himself worthy.
As he grabbed his cane, he issued a silent reminder to discard it before Apparating to the Dark Lord. Best not to show any sign of weakness.
His last stop on his way out was the floo. He considered speaking with Albus, but quickly decided against it and scribbled a note. He did not want to see Albus's anxiety, and he certainly did not want Albus to see his. Besides, the last thing he needed was to give Albus another opportunity to try and talk him out of going back.
With a cold sweat, Severus Snape was, for the first time, worried that he might agree.
-
-
-------------------------------------------------------
-
-
The moment Dumbledore had received Severus's note informing him of Voldemort's summons, he set about searching for something to occupy his tumultuous mind.
Eventually, he'd settled on cleaning. It was not something Dumbledore did very often, and found it both warranted and sufficiently time-consuming. Once he'd located the old bottle of polish he'd borrowed from Filch ages ago, he began painstakingly polishing each one his delicate gold and silver instruments. Best to do these things by hand when one needed distraction.
Now, three hours into the task, Dumbledore realized he'd ended up making more of a mess of his quarters than anything else. But he stubbornly turned his efforts to the sword of Gryffindor, while contemplating Severus's insistent attitude on returning as a spy and his own puzzling reaction to it.
Dumbledore had dedicated the better part of 25 years to stopping the threat that was Voldemort. He knew better than anyone what needed to be done to win this war. Despite the genuine idealism of his heart, he was, he had to be, a practical wizard, always ready and prepared to face and make hard choices, impossible decisions and horrible sacrifices. And there was no question in his mind of the immeasurable value of having a spy inside Voldemort's circle.
What Dumbledore could not have anticipated was his hesitation and uncertainty in the face of Severus's well thought out, logical, and persuasive arguments about the matter.
Dumbledore couldn't remember the last time he'd had such trouble thinking clearly. One of his greatest strengths was his ability to put the greater good above all else, even under the most difficult of circumstances. But in their discussions, it had been Severus who had been on the side of sacrifice, and he on the side of sentiment. It was Severus who had considered what needed to be done and how, the one who had led him toward the most profitable course of action for the Order.
All Dumbledore could think of, then and now, was that horrible morning when Severus had returned to him in agony, and how he never wanted for Severus to suffer like that again.
-
-
-------------------------------------------------------
-
-
Dumbledore was so lost in his troubled thoughts, he didn't feel Severus slipping past the outer wards and into the castle. Only when his own wards gave way did it register – Severus was back.
It took less than a minute for Severus to make it up the staircase, where Dumbledore was apprehensively waiting at the door for him.
"Severus, it's so good to see you, my boy! Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Snape replied. With some difficulty, Snape hobbled over to the sitting room sofa, refusing Dumbledore's attempts to help him. "Albus, that's really not necessary. As I said, I'm fine."
Dumbledore countered, "You don't look fine."
"I'm alive, aren't I?" Snape replied with an amused smirk.
"Yes. Yes you are," Dumbledore said fondly. "But you are hurt."
"No," Snape lied, his grimaces of pain testifying to the contrary.
Dumbledore's keen eyes narrowed in Severus's direction.
Well aware that Albus's mind was whirling around the Cruciatus, Snape quickly corrected him, "It's not what you think, Albus. I just overexerted myself a bit walking to and from the Apparition point. Seems I am not yet ready for a marathon," Snape joked. He was in a very good mood. After all, it wasn't every day you managed to hoodwink the Dark Lord and survive.
"Should I get Poppy?"
"That won't be necessary."
A long minute of silence passed between them. Dumbledore was quite aware that Severus was struggling with how to begin, so finally he posed the gentle question, "He believes you?"
"He believes me," Snape confirmed, unable to find other words to express the relief of not having been wrong, of having that constant dread lifted off of his shoulders, at least temporarily.
"That is wonderful, Severus. I am…relieved. And I'm sure you must be as well." Dumbledore gestured to the teapot on the coffee table, "How about some tea while we talk?"
"Please."
Water was heated instantly and the tea poured. Dumbledore conjured a pillow and placed it behind Severus's back.
He was interested in the prophecy…just as you predicted. But unfortunately, he didn't share his strategy on how and when he plans on obtaining that information."
"These things will come in time, Severus," Dumbledore consoled. "No need to fret about that now. But you're skipping ahead, I believe."
"Yes." A pause. "He was very pleased at my return. We were right. It was a test."
"You sound almost surprised. After all, you were the one who convinced me."
"No…yes…well, I didn't expect…As strange as it must seem, I'd say based on our interactions, I may have the same standing as last time."
Snape didn't say it. He needn't have. Dumbledore knew exactly what that meant. Severus had always been one of Voldemort's favorites.
Snape continued, "You should have seen him – the perverse glee that I was okay. He seems to admire my capacity for pain." Snape paused before continuing, "The thought hadn't occurred to me beforehand. I had considered the test as one of loyalty alone."
Dumbledore considered Severus's words for a long moment before replying pensively, "Voldemort believes he has resurrected himself. By surviving his torture, you, in essence, have done the same. He may think of you as his protégé, now more than ever."
"Lucky me," Snape replied with a roll of his eyes. "Ultimately, Albus, it took very little on my part to convince him that I'm a triple agent."
Dumbledore and Snape had discussed the matter extensively. It was up to Snape to read the Dark Lord enough to know which story he would find the most believable in that moment. There were only two options, tell the Dark Lord he worked for him without Dumbledore's knowledge, or to tell him that he was a triple agent (and that Dumbledore believed he was a double agent for the side of the Light).
The former had its advantages – he would likely need to provide less information to the Dark Lord, since the Dark Lord would not know he was a member of the Order. But the latter provided more safety and leeway, which was why Dumbledore had strongly recommended that route if possible. Snape had had mere moments to access the Dark Lord mind on the matter. He recalled that crucial moment all too well.
-
-
"What did you tell that old fool after our last meeting?"
Snape barely perceived the emotions flitting across the Dark Lord's eyes as he said it. But that, and something in his tone was unmistakable and Snape knew immediately which cover story to present.
"I did not have to explain myself, my Lord. I have allowed him to believe that I am acting on his orders…to spy on you, my Lord."
"Is that so?" came the narrow-eyed reply.
Snape could all but see the wheels turning in the Dark Lord's head. He forced himself to remain calm as those red eyes scrutinized every part of him. Snape met the piercing gaze without an ounce of hesitation.
Those moments felt like minutes, but eventually, a malevolent smirk of amusement appeared on the Dark Lord's visage. "He believes you are his secret weapon – and in the end, you will be his downfall. I cannot think of anything so fitting. You were always so very clever, Severus."
Snape did his best not to recoil at the almost affectionate tone. "Thank you, my Lord."
-
-
In the end, the triple agent cover story had, in fact, made Snape a quadruple agent for the Order of the Phoenix.
"How did you explain my trust in you?" Dumbledore inquired.
"I told him that I had spent the past 14 years insinuating myself into your good graces, garnering your trust. That you were a sucker for a repentant soul. And…." Snape continued, "that old age had begun to weaken your Legilimency."
"Did you now?" Dumbledore asked playfully.
"But damn it, Albus, if there haven't been times over the years that I didn't wish that were just a little bit true!"
Dumbledore chuckled and Snape couldn't help smiling himself.
-
-
-------------------------------------------------------
-
-
Two cups of tea later, Snape had exhausted every last detail of the meeting.
"In the end, I think I'm as well positioned as we could hope for."
Severus said it so nonchalantly, but Albus knew all too well how much Severus had overcome to get to this point – the nightmare he had suffered and then the nightmares he had had to fight in order to return to that monster. And even though a large part of Albus wished that Severus hadn't taken the risk, he knew that Severus had done it largely for him. And so he made sure that Severus felt the sincerity of his next words.
"Naturally, the Order is very grateful for what you're doing, Severus. But I want you to know, dear boy, that I am very proud of you."
Snape turned his gaze away as casually as he could, determined not to meet Dumbledore's eyes in that moment, so that he might not see the way those simple words affected him. He had never been good at accepting praise, especially from Albus. He caught a glimpse of the sword and the polish on the Headmaster's desk and used it to change the subject.
"I see you've had a busy night," Snape said, taking in Dumbledore's ramshackled office in a sweeping gesture.
Dumbledore smiled. "I couldn't sleep."
"Ah…so this is what you do when you're restless?" Snape asked, gesturing toward the sword. "Wreak havoc on your office and obsessively polish the family heirlooms?"
Snape had said it in jest, but to his surprise, Dumbledore merely smiled at him.
"Albus? You…I…Bloody Merlin, you can't mean?…I'm right, aren't I?!"
"I never said anything of the sort, Severus," Dumbledore denied with a twinkle in his eye.
"You're really Gryffindor's—"
Dumbledore smoothly interrupted, "Would you care for more tea, Severus?"
Snape gaped at Albus for a long moment before nodding.
"So, Severus, are you still planning on using the time turner tomorrow morning then, or has this evening changed your plans?"
What? Oh…" Snape said, trying to concentrate on Dumbledore's words rather than the meaning of what he'd just learned. "Yes, I'm still going."
"I think you should reconsider. After all, you are in pain, and…"
"Albus, we've discussed this. I won't be doing anything strenuous. I'll cancel most of my classes, and sit at my desk for a few to make a show of it. It won't be a problem."
"If you insist."
"Well, I suppose I should go." Snape made to stand, but his winced sharply at the movement.
Dumbledore immediately moved to his side in concern. Taking a seat beside the other man, he said, "Severus, turn around."
"Albus—" Snape began in protest.
"Severus," Dumbledore sighed, "could you stop being so difficult, just for once?"
At that, Snape reluctantly adjusted his position on the sofa so that his back was facing Dumbledore. Even that slight motion was painful – the aching in his back had become worse, but he pretended it was nothing. "I'd really rather you didn't bother, Albus."
"Perhaps you're right. I'll just call Poppy then," Dumbledore suggested.
"Don't start with the threats now," Snape said in mock outrage.
"Then stop arguing and let me have a look," Dumbledore replied and pulled out his wand.
Even with his back turned, Snape could sense the motion and instinctively asked in a rush, "What are you going to do?"
"You don't trust me?" Dumbledore asked. "I think I picked up a few things while in the hospital wing with you."
Snape could feel Dumbledore begin to run the wand over his back, could feel the tip trailing in smooth arcs up and down and side to side, and then suddenly a strange tingling sensation that transformed into a gentle warmth that spread through his taut muscles, coaxing them to loosen. Albus seemed to be concentrating on one spot in particular, on the right lower part of his back, and Severus dimly wondered how Albus knew that was where the worst of his pain was centered. He could sense Albus behind him, silent in concentration, and it was almost as though he could visualize the incantation that Albus was forging in his head. As his muscles loosened further, he stifled a groan at how good this felt, realizing that enough time had passed that he should issue another protest, even though the last thing he wanted was for this welcome relief to end.
And then he felt Albus whisper behind him, "How is that?"
"What to say to that? Snape considered the question for a moment – he wanted to say it felt heavenly. "It's fine."
"Take off your coat."
"What?"
"Your coat."
"Why?" Snape asked, then realized he had said it in almost a panic.
"Severus, don't be silly now. You must be wearing at least ten layers of clothing. This will work much better without it. Here, let me help you."
Snape didn't know how it happened, but the next thing he knew Albus had helped him take off his waist coat while lecturing him on how acquiring a summer wardrobe wouldn't be amiss. And then the wand returned to his back once more, now trailing circles against the thin cotton fabric of his shirt.
Oh. That did feel much better, and much more intense.
Heavenly heat was flooding into him, and he could now feel the little puffs of breath that were Albus's whispered incantations, suddenly making him acutely aware of how very close Albus was behind him.
Relief spread across his back, even as a palpable discomfort grew throughout the rest of him. His pulse quickened and his throat felt suddenly bone dry.
"Does that feel better?" Albus whispered gently, almost directly in his ear.
"Yes," Snape managed to squeak out, and to his horror, a deep flush entered his face and spread over his neck and down into his chest.
And then, without warning, Albus's hands were touching the base of his back, and all the blood drained from Snape's face. He flinched, and barely stopped himself from bolting up from the sofa.
"What's wrong, Severus? Did I hurt you?"
"No," Snape replied quickly. "I was feeling better...I mean I am feeling better. Thank you, Albus."
"Severus, are you sure I didn't—"
"I'm fine," Snape replied. Taking in the look of confusion on Albus's face, Snape realized he needed to pull himself together fast and find a much better excuse. It took him but a second, but he wasn't an exceptional Occlumens for nothing.
Indicating the spot Albus had touched on his back, Snape said with a slight grimace. "It's just a bit sore, that's all," he lied, making sure not to look at Albus directly as he said it. "But the spell worked wonders actually, thank you. It feels much better." Being sure to leave no doubt as to his discomfort, he made no effort to leave just yet. "I'd like it if you could show me that charm."
"I'm glad of it, my boy," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I'll write up the charm for you first thing in the morning."
Snape paused deliberately, intent on appearing as at ease as possible after his startled reaction to Albus's touch. "Well, I suppose I should turn in," he said casually, but he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
"Would you like me to walk you to your quarters?"
"No, no, that's not necessary. I'll just take it slow. Goodnight, Albus."
"Goodnight, Severus. Sleep well."
Snape made his way with almost an exaggeratedly slow pace to the oak door of Dumbledore's chambers, struggling to control his racing heart. Once he closed the door, however, and was on the stairs, he took them hurriedly down and out past the gargoyle, stopping immediately to lean against the stone wall in the corridor where he closed his eyes and heaved several deep breaths.
For one crazy moment he thought he was ill, feverish. Until he recognized the feeling for what it was.
'What the bloody hell are you doing, Severus?'
Snape walked briskly back to his quarters, completely oblivious to the pain in his back.
-
-
-------------------------------------------------------
-
-
Snape adjusted the covers, but knew by now that sleep would be a hopeless proposition tonight. He'd tried to occupy his mind with something else – first by considering his lesson plans for the preceding classes he was about to teach, then by reading his favorite Potions journal, and now, by counting the flecks of granite in the ceiling. Anything to stop his mind from wandering there again.
But it was no use. Inevitably, he found himself reliving those minutes again. Albus, just inches behind him, whispering into his ear. Albus, touching him, running his hand over his back. And then…imagining that it had been far more, imagining that hand creeping around his waist, imagining…
No. Snape stopped the errant thought immediately and for the umpteenth time that evening reminded himself that Albus was his mentor and his best friend. And that nothing Albus had done had ever suggested anything more.
When he had first come to Hogwarts to take the teaching post, still very much an arrogant youth, how quickly all that anger and resentment toward Albus had turned into something else. He hadn't even really known Albus then, just as the Headmaster. And perhaps, he considered, the feelings then arose more out of a misguided attachment born out of a grateful reverence and an idolization of Dumbledore's power. A young foolish boy lusting after the only man who'd ever shown him an ounce of real affection.
However imprudent they might have been, the feelings had been real. And although then he'd been arrogant enough to hope, he could have not permitted the possibility of rejection. So he simply stopped having those feelings. Case closed. That is not to say it was easy. Far from it, but if there was one thing Severus Snape was good at, it was accepting that certain things were never meant for him, including the type of happiness people found in each other.
And now for these same notions to return again? Snape corrected his logic abruptly. Not the same. Nothing about this was the same, or nearly as simple. Fourteen years ago, Albus had merely saved him from death, but over the years, he'd given him back his life. Albus may not have been a lover, but he had become a better friend to him than he could have ever hoped for. And once, he might have thought that that would be enough.
In truth, Snape acknowledged that those feelings had never really gone away fourteen years ago, but had only grown in their honesty, and were now based in years of friendship, sacrifice and trust. Making it so much harder to pretend they weren't there.
He might have had a chance at keeping up the pretense, Snape thought, had it not been for recent events.
He'd known it was happening – should have known, but he had allowed himself to get swept up in each of Albus's kindnesses, each conversation, each comfort, in each moment that intensified their friendship. The reassurance of seeing Albus nearly all day every day, the thrill of that something new developing between them. He'd lost himself in it. How could not? Snape couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable, so cherished. And of course Albus would make him feel that way – he made everyone feel that way – as if they were the most important thing in the world. It was his gift.
And then Albus had done the unthinkable and delivered the last crushing blow to any and all rationalizations. He'd opened his mind to him. And how was he supposed to respond? With curiosity or amusement? Perhaps that was what Albus had expected. Indeed Snape had, for the briefest of moments before being completely overcome with a barrage of other emotions – privilege, awe and euphoria. And ultimately, to his eternal shame, desire.
That he had taken all of what had happened between them in the past weeks, in that singular moment, and had let it turn into 'this' – it made him feel deeply ashamed. He cursed himself for falling into the trap of thinking, even subconsciously, that it had been more. But worst of all, for needing it to be.
And now, staring intently at the stone ceiling, Snape knew this could not continue. Fourteen years ago his only real concern at the Headmaster finding out would have been the resultant humiliation. But now, the consequences were far more severe – losing Albus. And for what? For something that could be, when he had so much. Genuine smiles, friendly gestures of affection, unforced intimacy and comfortable companionship. A mentor to discuss every serious issue under the sun and a friend to share the most trivial of topics in the middle of a sleepless night.
It was then and there that Snape decided he would forget all of this. He had done it once before, buried the feelings, transmuted them into friendship. And now, however impossible it seemed, he would do it again. He had to.
Because it would be nothing short of madness to continue along this road – tempting, easy, but mad. Not to mention that Snape knew it was incredibly dangerous to feel these things. Dangerous if the Dark Lord were to catch a glimpse of his emotions.
More dangerous perhaps, Snape reflected, if Albus did.
-
-
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: Thanks everyone for the response to the last chapter. I was overwhelmed with your kind words. Thanks for sticking by this slow to update story. I pour my soul into this one, and it means a lot!
My goal with this chapter was to finally get an inside look of Snape's feelings (just as he's figuring them out for himself no less!!). Regarding Snape's discovery, I also wanted to leave a lot up to your imagination if you follow. An important note based on some comments I've gotten – and this is pertinent to this chapter as well - Dumbledore is not omniscient in this story, just as he is not in canon.
For those who might be interested, I've started the sequel to Light on the Dark Side of Me, entitled In Memory's Wake (posted here). Although this is a snarry, I promise Dumbledore and Snape's relationship (paternal, strong friendship) will figure very largely in the plot. Much more significantly, in fact, than in the prequel. Hope you check it out.
Thanks so much for reading.
Can't wait to hear your thoughts on the chapter.